The Train Was On Time (10 page)

But then with a happy smile Willi opened a soiled white door, very high and wide, and there was a restaurant with
comfortable chairs, and attractively set tables with flowers on them, autumn flowers, thought Andreas, the kind you see on graves, and he thought: This will be my last meal before my execution. Willi led them over to an alcove that could be curtained off, and there were more comfortable chairs and an attractively set table, and it was all like a dream. Wasn’t I standing a minute ago under a signboard with letters on it in black and white: Lvov?

Waiter! A smart Polish waiter wearing shiny shoes, shaved to perfection and grinning, only his jacket was a bit soiled. They all grin here, thought Andreas. The waiter’s jacket was a bit soiled, but never mind, his shoes were like a grand duke’s and he was shaved like a god … highly polished black shoes.…

“Georg,” said Willi, “these gentlemen would like a wash and a shave.” It sounded like an order. No, it was an order. Andreas had to laugh as he followed the grinning waiter. He felt as if he had been invited to the home of a genteel grandmother or a genteel uncle, and Uncle had said: Unshaven or unwashed children may not come to table.…

The washroom was spacious, clean. Georg brought hot water. “Perhaps the gentlemen would like some toilet soap, excellent quality, fifteen marks.” “Bring it,” said Andreas with a laugh, “Papa will pay for everything.”

Georg brought the soap and repeated with a grin: “Papa will pay.” The blond fellow had a wash too; they stripped to the waist, soaped themselves, dried themselves voluptuously, their arms and all over their yellowish-white, unaired soldiers’ skin. It’s lucky I brought along my socks, thought Andreas, I’ll wash my feet too, and I can put on my clean socks.

Socks must be very expensive here, and why should I leave the socks in my pack? I’m sure the partisans have socks. He washed his feet and laughed at the blond fellow, who looked very astonished. The blond fellow really was in a daze.

It feels great to have a smooth chin again, as smooth as a Pole’s, and I’m only sorry that tomorrow morning I’ll have stubble on it again, thought Andreas. The blond fellow did not need to shave, he had only a trace of down on his upper lip. Andreas wondered for the first time how old the blond fellow might be, as he drew on his nice clean shirt, with a proper civilian collar so he could leave off that stupid army neckband; a blue shirt that had once been quite dark but was now sky-blue. He buttoned it up and drew on his tunic, his shabby gray tunic with the wound badge. Perhaps the badge was made in this fellow’s patriotic-flag factory, he thought. Oh yes, he had meant to figure out the blond fellow’s age. He has no beard, of course, but Paul had no beard either, and Paul is twenty-six. This fellow might be seventeen or he might be forty, he has a strange face, I expect he’s twenty. Besides, he’s already a private first class, he must have been serving for more than a year or almost two. Twenty—twenty-one, Andreas figured. All right. Tunic on, collar done up, it really felt great to be clean.

No thanks, they could find their way back to the alcove alone. By this time a few officers, whom they had to salute, were sitting in the restaurant. That was awful, having to salute, saluting was terrible, and it was a relief to be back in the shelter of the alcove.

“That’s how I like to see you, boys,” said Willi. Willi was drinking wine and smoking a cigar. The table had already been set with various plates, forks, knives, and spoons.

Georg waited on them silently. First came a soup. Bouillon, Andreas thought. He prayed softly, a long prayer; the others had already begun their soup, and he was still praying, and it was odd that they did not comment.

After the soup came some sort of potato salad, just a tiny portion. With it an aperitif. Like in France. Then came a series of meat dishes. First some meat patties … then something very
peculiar-looking. “And what is this?” Willi asked majestically, but he laughed as he said it.

“That?” Georg grinned. “That’s pork heart … very good pork heart.…” Then came a cutlet, a good juicy cutlet. A real “last meal,” thought Andreas, just right for a condemned man, and he was shocked to find how good it all tasted. It’s disgraceful, he thought. I ought to be praying, praying, spending the whole day somewhere on my knees, and here I am eating pork heart.… It’s disgraceful. Next came vegetables, the first vegetables, peas. Then finally some potatoes. And then more meat, something resembling a goulash, a very tasty goulash. More vegetables, and a salad. Finally something green. And wine with everything; Willi poured, very majestically, laughing as he did so.

“We’ll blow the whole mortgage today, long live the Lvov mortgage!” They drank a toast to the Lvov mortgage.

A whole series of desserts. Like in France, Andreas thought. First some creamy pudding, with real eggs in it. Then a piece of cake with hot vanilla sauce. With this they had more wine, poured by Willi, a very sweet wine. Then came something very small, a tiny object lying on a white plate. It was something with chocolate icing, puff pastry with chocolate icing and cream inside, real cream. Pity it’s so small, thought Andreas. No one said a word, the blond fellow was still in a daze, it was frightening to see his face, he kept his mouth open and chewed and ate and drank. And finally there actually came some cheese. Why damn it all, exactly like in France, cheese and bread, and that was it. Cheese closes the stomach, thought Andreas; they drank white wine with it, white wine from France … Sauternes.…

My God, hadn’t he drunk Sauternes in Le Treport on a terrace overlooking the sea, Sauternes, delicious as milk, fire, and honey, Sauternes in Le Treport on a terrace overlooking the sea on a summer evening, and hadn’t those beloved eyes
been with him that evening, almost as close as all those years ago in Amiens? Sauternes in Le Treport. It was the same wine. He had a good memory for tastes. Sauternes in Le Treport, and she had been close to him with mouth and hair and her eyes, the wine makes all this possible, and it’s good to eat bread and cheese with white wine.…

“Well, boys,” said Willi, in the best of spirits, “did you enjoy your meal?” Yes, they had really enjoyed it, they felt very content.

They had not overeaten. You must drink wine with your meal, it’s wonderful. Andreas prayed … you must say grace after a meal, and he prayed for a long time—while the others leaned back in their chairs and smoked, Andreas propped his elbows on the table and prayed.…

Life is beautiful, he thought, it was beautiful. Twelve hours before my death I have to find out that life is beautiful, and it’s too late. I’ve been ungrateful, I’ve denied the existence of human happiness. And life was beautiful. He turned red with humiliation, red with fear, red with remorse. I really did deny the existence of human happiness, and life was beautiful. I’ve had an unhappy life … a wasted life as they say, I’ve suffered every instant from this ghastly uniform, and they’ve nattered my ears off, and they made me shed blood on their battlefields, real blood it was, three times I was wounded on the field of so-called honor, outside Amiens, and down at Tiraspol, and then in Nikopol, and I’ve seen nothing but dirt and blood and shit and smelled nothing but filth … and misery … heard nothing but obscenities, and for a mere tenth of a second I was allowed to know true human love, the love of man and woman, which surely must be beautiful, for a mere tenth of a second, and twelve hours or eleven hours before my death I have to find out that life was beautiful. I drank Sauternes … on a terrace above Le Treport by the sea, and in Cayeux, in Cayeux I also drank Sauternes, also on a summer evening, and my beloved was
with me … and in Paris I used to spend hours at those sidewalk cafes soaking up some other glorious golden wine. I know for sure my beloved was with me, and I didn’t need to comb through forty million people to find happiness. I thought I had forgotten nothing, I had forgotten everything … everything … and this meal was wonderful.… And the pork heart and the cheese, and the wine that gave me the power to remember that life is beautiful … twelve hours, or eleven hours, to go.…

Last of all he thought once more about the Jews of Cernauti, then he remembered the Jews of Lvov, and the Jews of Stanislav and Kolomyya, the cannon down there in the Sivash marshes. And the man who had said: Those are precisely the advantages of the 37 antitank weapon.… And that poor ugly shivering whore in Paris whom he had pushed away in the night.…

“Come on, mate, have another drink!” said Willi roughly, and Andreas raised his head and drank. There was still some wine left, the bottle was standing in the ice bucket; he emptied his glass and Willi refilled it.

All this is happening in Lvov, everything I’m doing here, he thought, in a mansion of the old Hapsburg Empire, in an old dilapidated Imperial mansion, in one of the great rooms of this house where they used to entertain on a grand scale, give glamorous balls where they danced the waltz, at least—he counted under his breath—at least twenty-eight years ago, no, twenty-nine, twenty-nine years ago there was no war yet. Twenty-nine years ago all this was still Austria … then it was Poland … then it was Russia … and now, now it’s all Greater Germany. They used to have balls … they danced the waltz, wonderful waltzes, and they would smile at one another and dance … and outdoors, in the big garden that must be behind the house, in that big garden they would kiss, the lieutenants and the girls … and maybe the majors and the wives, and the host, he must have been a colonel or a general and he pretended not to see what
was going on … or maybe he was a very senior civil servant or some such thing … maybe.…

“Come on, mate, have another drink!” Yes, he’d like some more wine … time is running out, he thought, I wonder what time it is. It was eleven, or eleven-fifteen, when we left the station, by now it must be two or three o’clock … twelve more hours, no, more than that. The train doesn’t leave till five, and then I’ve got till … soon. That Soon was all blurred again now. Forty miles beyond Lvov, it won’t be more than that. Forty miles, that’ll be an hour and a half by train, that would make it six-thirty, it’ll be light by then. All of a sudden, just as he was raising his glass to his lips, he knew it would never be light again. Thirty miles … an hour or three quarters of an hour before the first hint of dawn. No, it’ll still be dark, there’ll be no dawn! That’s it! That’s it exactly! Five forty-five, and tomorrow is already Sunday, and tomorrow Paul begins his new week, and all this week Paul has the six o’clock mass. I shall die as Paul is mounting the steps to the altar. That’s absolutely certain, when he starts reciting the antiphons without an altar boy. He once told me that you can’t count on altar boys nowadays. When Paul is reciting the antiphons between Lvov and … he must look and see which place is thirty miles beyond Lvov. He must get hold of the map. He glanced up and saw that the blond fellow was still dozing in his chair; he was tired, he had had sentry duty. Willi was awake and smiling happily, Willi was drunk, and the map was in the other man’s pocket. But there was plenty of time. More than twelve hours, fifteen hours to go … in these fifteen hours he had to see to a lot of things. Say my prayers, say my prayers, no more sleep … whatever happened, no more sleep, and I’m glad I’m so sure now. Willi also knows he’s going to die, and the blond fellow is ready to die too, their lives are over; it will soon be full, the hourglass is nearly full, and death has only a few, a very few, more grains of sand to add.

“Well, boys,” said Willi, “sorry, but it’s time we were moving. Nice here, wasn’t it?” He nudged the blond fellow, who woke up. He was still dreaming, his face was all dreams, and his eyes no longer had that nasty slimy look; there was something childlike about them, and that might have been because he had had a real dream, had been genuinely happy. Happiness washes away many things, just as suffering washes away many things.

“Because now,” said Willi, “now we have to go to the rubber-stamp place. But I’m not giving anything away yet!” He was rather hurt that nobody asked him; he beckoned to Georg and paid something over four hundred marks. The tip was a princely one. “And a taxi,” said Willi. They picked up their luggage, buckled their belts, put on their caps, and went out past the officers, past the civilians, and past the ones in the brown uniforms. And there was much amazement in the eyes of the officers and of the ones in the brown uniforms. And it was just like in every bar in Europe, in French bars, Hungarian, Rumanian, Russian, and Yugoslav bars, and Czech and Dutch and Belgian and Norwegian and Italian and Luxembourg bars: the same buckling of belts and putting on of caps and saluting at the door, as if one were leaving a temple inhabited by very stern gods.

And they left the Imperial mansion, the Imperial driveway, and Andreas cast one more glance at that crumbling façade, the waltz façade, before they got into the taxi … and were off.

“Now,” said Willi, “now we’re going to the rubber-stamp place, they open at five.”

“May I have another look at the map?” Andreas asked the blond fellow, but before the latter could pull the map out of his Luftwaffe pack they were stopping again. They had driven only a short distance along the wide brooding Imperial avenue. Beyond lay open country and a few villas, and the house they had stopped at was a Polish house. The roof was flattish, the
façade a dirty yellow, and the narrow tall windows were closed with shutters reminiscent of France, shutters with very narrow slits, very flimsy-looking, painted gray. It was a Polish house, this rubber-stamp place, and something told Andreas immediately that it was a brothel. The whole ground floor was hidden by a thick beech hedge, and as they walked through the front garden he saw that the groundfloor windows were not shuttered.…

He saw russet-colored curtains, dirty russet-colored, almost dark brown with a touch of red. “You can get any stamp in the world here,” said Willi with a laugh. “You just have to know the ropes and be firm.” They stood with their luggage outside the front door after Willi had pulled the bell, and it was some time before they heard any sound in the silent, mysterious house. Andreas was sure they were being watched. They were watched for a long time, so long that Willi began to get uneasy. “Damn it all,” he said peevishly, “they don’t have to hide anything from me. They hide everything suspicious, see, when someone they don’t know comes to the door.” But at that moment the door opened, and an oldish woman came toward Willi with outstretched arms and a fulsome smile.