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diff --git a/old/23061-0.txt b/old/23061-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 045ff58..0000000 --- a/old/23061-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1089 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dead Are Silent, by Arthur Schnitzler - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Dead Are Silent - 1907 - -Author: Arthur Schnitzler - -Release Date: October 17, 2007 [EBook #23061] -Last Updated: November 19, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEAD ARE SILENT *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -THE DEAD ARE SILENT - -By Arthur Schnitzler - -Copyright, 1907, by Courtland H. Young - - -HE could endure the quiet waiting in the carriage no longer; it was -easier to get out and walk up and down. It was now dark; the few -scattered lamps in the narrow side street quivered uneasily in the wind. -The rain had stopped, the sidewalks were almost dry, but the rough-paved -roadway was still moist, and little pools gleamed here and there. - -“Strange, isn’t it?” thought Franz. “Here we are scarcely a hundred -paces from the Prater, and yet it might be a street in some little -country town. Well, it’s safe enough, at any rate. She won’t meet any of -the friends she dreads so much here.” - -He looked at his watch. “Only just seven, and so dark already! It is an -early autumn this year... and then this confounded storm I...” He turned -his coat-collar up about his neck and quickened his pacing. The glass in -the street lamps rattled lightly. - -“Half an hour more,” he said to himself, “then I can go home. I could -almost wish--that that half-hour were over.” He stood for a moment -on the corner, where he could command a view of both streets. “She’ll -surely come to-day,” his thoughts ran on, while he struggled with his -hat, which threatened to blow away. “It’s Friday.... Faculty meeting -at the University; she needn’t hurry home.” He heard the clanging of -street-car gongs, and the hour chimed from a nearby church tower. The -street became more animated. Hurrying figures passed him, clerks of -neighboring shops; they hastened onward, fighting against the storm. -No one noticed him; a couple of half-grown girls glanced up in idle -curiosity as they went by. Suddenly he saw a familiar figure coming -toward him. He hastened to meet her.... Could it be she? On foot? - -She saw him, and quickened her pace. - -“You are walking?” he asked. - -“I dismissed the cab in front of the theatre. I think I’ve had that -driver before.” - -A man passed them, turning to look at the lady. Her companion glared at -him, and the other passed on hurriedly. The lady looked after him. “Who -was it?” she asked, anxiously. - -“Don’t know him. We’ll see no one we know here, don’t worry. But come -now, let’s get into the cab.” - -“Is that your carriage?” - -“Yes.” - -“An open one?” - -“It was warm and pleasant when I engaged it an hour ago.” - -They walked to the carriage; the lady stepped in. - -“Driver!” called the man. - -“Why, where is he?” asked the lady. - -Franz looked around. “Well, did you ever? I don’t see him anywhere.” - -“Oh--” her tone was low and timid. - -“Wait a moment, child, he must be around here somewhere.” - -The young man opened the door of a little saloon, and discovered his -driver at a table with several others. The man rose hastily. “In a -minute, sir,” he explained, swallowing his glass of wine. - -“What do you mean by this?” - -“All right, sir... Be there in a minute.” His step was a little unsteady -as he hastened to his horses. “Where’ll you go, sir?” - -“Prater--Summer-house.” - -Franz entered the carriage. His companion sat back in a corner, -crouching fearsomely under the shadow of the cover. - -He took both her hands in his. She sat silent. “Won’t you say good -evening to me?” - -“Give me a moment to rest, dear. I’m still out of breath.” - -He leaned back in his corner. Neither spoke for some minutes. The -carriage turned into the Prater Street, passed the Tegethoff Monument, -and a few minutes later was rolling swiftly through the broad, dark -Prater Avenue. - -Emma turned suddenly and flung both arms around her lover’s neck. He -lifted the veil that still hung about her face, and kissed her. - -“I have you again--at last!” she exclaimed. - -“Do you know how long it is since we have seen each other?” he asked. - -“Since Sunday.” - -“Yes, and that wasn’t good for much.” - -“Why not? You were in our house.” - -“Yes--in your house. That’s just it. This can’t go on. I shall not enter -your house again.... What’s the matter?” - -“A carriage passed us.” - -“Dear girl, the people who are driving in the Prater at such an hour, -and in such weather, aren’t noticing much what other people are doing.” - -“Yes--that’s so. But some one might look in here, by chance.” - -“We couldn’t be recognized. It’s too dark.” - -“Yes--but can’t we drive somewhere else?” - -“Just as you like.” He called to the driver, who did not seem to hear. -Franz leaned forward and touched the man. - -“Turn around again. What are you whipping your horses like that for? -We’re in no hurry, I tell you. Drive--let me see--yes--drive down the -avenue that leads to the Reichs Bridge.” - -“The Reichsstrasse?” - -“Yes. But don’t hurry so, there’s no need of it.” - -“All right, sir. But it’s the wind that makes the horses so crazy.” - -Franz sat back again as the carriage turned in the other direction. - -“Why didn’t I see you yesterday?” - -“How could I?”... - -“You were invited to my sister’s.” - -“Oh--yes.” - -“Why weren’t you there?” - -“Because I can’t be with you--like that--with others around. No, I just -can’t.” She shivered. “Where are we now?” she asked, after a moment. - -They were passing under the railroad bridge at the entrance to the -Reichsstrasse. - -“On the way to the Danube,” replied Franz. “We’re driving toward the -Reichs Bridge. We’ll certainly not meet any of our friends here,” he -added, with a touch of mockery. - -“The carriage jolts dreadfully.” - -“We’re on cobblestones again.” - -“But he drives so crooked.” - -“Oh, you only think so.” - -He had begun to notice himself that the vehicle was swaying to and -fro more than was necessary, even on the rough pavement. But he said -nothing, not wishing to alarm her. - -“There’s a great deal I want to say to you today, Emma.” - -“You had better begin then; I must be home at nine o’clock.” - -“A few words may decide everything.” - -“Oh, goodness, what was that!” she screamed. The wheels had caught in a -car-track, and the carriage turned partly over as the driver attempted -to free it. Franz caught at the man’s coat. “Stop that!” he cried. “Why, -you’re drunk, man!” - -The driver halted his horses with some difficulty. “Oh, no--sir--” - -“Let’s get out here, Emma, and walk.” - -“Where are we?” - -“Here’s the bridge already. And the wind is not nearly as strong as -it was. It will be nicer to walk a little. It’s so hard to talk in the -carriage.” - -Emma drew down her veil and followed him. “Don’t you call this windy?” - she exclaimed as she struggled against the gust that met her at the -corner. - -He took her arm, and called to the driver to follow them. - -They walked on slowly. Neither spoke as they mounted the ascent of the -bridge; and they halted where they could hear the flow of the water -below them. Heavy darkness surrounded them. The broad stream stretched -itself out in gray, indefinite outlines; red lights in the distance, -floating above the water, awoke answering gleams from its surface. -Trembling stripes of light reached down from the shore they had just -left; on the other side of the bridge the river lost itself in the -blackness of open fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance; they looked -over to where the red lights soared. A train with lighted windows rolled -between iron arches that seemed to spring up out of the night for an -instant, to sink back into darkness again. The thunder grew fainter and -more distant; silence fell again; only the wind moved, in sudden gusts. - -Franz spoke at last, after a long silence. “We must go away.” - -“Of course,” Emma answered, softly. - -“We must go away,” he continued, with more animation. “Go away -altogether, I mean--” - -“Oh, we can’t!” - -“Only because we are cowards, Emma.” - -“And my child?” - -“He will let you have the boy, I know.” - -“But how shall we go?” Her voice was very low. “You mean--to run away--” - -“Not at all. You have only to be honest with him; to tell him that you -cannot live with him any longer; that you belong to me.” - -“Franz--are you mad?” - -“I will spare you that trial, if you wish. I will tell him myself.” - -“No, Franz, you will do nothing of the kind.” - -He endeavored to read her face. But the darkness showed him only that -her head was turned toward him. - -He was silent a few moments more. Then he spoke quietly: “You need not -fear; I shall not do it.” - -They walked toward the farther shore. “Don’t you hear a noise?” she -asked. “What is it?” - -“Something is coming from the other side,” he said. - -A slow rumbling came out of the darkness. A little red light gleamed out -at them. They could see that it hung from the axle of a clumsy country -cart, but they could not see whether the cart was laden or not and -whether there were human beings on it. Two other carts followed the -first. They could just see the outlines of a man in peasant garb on the -last cart, and could see that he was lighting his pipe. The carts passed -them slowly. Soon there was nothing to be heard but the low rolling -of the wheels as their own carriage followed them. The bridge dropped -gently to the farther shore. They saw the street disappear into -blackness between rows of trees. Open fields lay before them to the -right and to the left; they gazed out into gloom indistinguishable. - -There was another long silence before Franz spoke again. “Then it is the -last time--” - -“What?--” Emma’s tone was anxious. - -“The last time we are to be together. Stay with him, if you will. I bid -you farewell.” - -“Are you serious?” - -“Absolutely.” - -“There, now you see, it is you who always spoil the few hours we have -together?--not I.” - -“Yes, you’re right,” said Franz. “Let’s drive back to town.” - -She held his arm closer. “No,” she insisted, tenderly, “I don’t want to -go back. I won’t be sent away from you.” - -She drew his head down to hers, and kissed him tenderly. “Where would we -get to if we drove on down there?” she asked. - -“That’s the road to Prague, dear.” - -“We won’t go quite that far,” she smiled, “but I’d like to drive on a -little, down there.” She pointed into the darkness. - -Franz called to the driver. There was no answer; the carriage rumbled -on, slowly. Franz ran after it, and saw that the driver was fast asleep. -Franz roused him roughly. “We want to drive on down that street. Do you -hear me?” - -“All right, sir.” - -Emma entered the carriage first, then Franz. The driver whipped his -horses, and they galloped madly over the moist earth of the road-bed. -The couple inside the cab held each other closely as they swayed with -the motion of the vehicle. - -“Isn’t this quite nice?” whispered Emma, her lips on his. - -In the moment of her words she seemed to feel the cab mounting into the -air. She felt herself thrown over violently, readied for some hold, but -grasped only the empty air. She seemed to be spinning madly like a top, -her eyes closed, suddenly she found herself lying on the ground, a great -silence about her, as if she were alone, far away from all the world. -Then noises began to come into her consciousness again; hoofs beat the -ground near her; a low moaning came from somewhere; but she could -see nothing. Terror seized her; she screamed aloud. Her terror grew -stronger, for she could not hear her own voice. Suddenly she knew what -had happened; the carriage had hit some object, possibly a mile-stone; -had upset, and she had been thrown out. Where is Franz? was her next -thought. She called his name. And now she could hear her voice, not -distinctly yet, but she could hear it. There was no answer to her call. -She tried to get up. After some effort she rose to a sitting, posture, -and, reaching out, she felt something, a human body, on the ground -beside her. She could now begin to see a little through the dimness. -Franz lay beside her, motionless. She put out her hand and touched -his face; something warm and wet covered it. Her heart seemed to -stop beating--Blood?--Oh, what had happened? Franz was wounded and -unconscious. Where was the coachman? She called him, but no answer -came. She still sat there on the ground. She did not seem to be injured, -although she ached all over. “What shall I do?” she thought; “what shall -I do? How can it be that I am not injured? Franz!” she called again. A -voice answered from somewhere near her. - -“Where are you, lady? And where is the gentleman? Wait a minute, -Miss--I’ll light the lamps, so we can see. I don’t know what’s got into -the beasts to-day. It ain’t my fault, Miss, sure--they ran into a pile -of stones.” - -Emma managed to stand up, although she was bruised all over. The fact -that the coachman seemed quite uninjured reassured her somewhat. -She heard the man opening the lamp and striking a match. She waited -anxiously for the light. She did not dare to touch Franz again. “It’s -all so much worse when you can’t see plainly,” she thought. “His eyes -may be open now--there won’t be anything wrong....” - -A tiny ray of light came from one side. She saw the carriage, not -completely upset, as she had thought, but leaning over toward the -ground, as if one wheel were broken. The horses stood quietly. She saw -the milestone, then a heap of loose stones, and beyond them a ditch. -Then the light touched Franz’s feet, crept up over his body to his face, -and rested there. The coachman had set the lamp on the ground beside the -head of the unconscious man. Emma dropped to her knees, and her heart -seemed to stop beating as she looked into the face before her. It was -ghastly white; the eyes were half open, only the white showing. A thin -stream of blood trickled down from one temple and ran into his collar. -The teeth were fastened into the under lip. “No--no--it isn’t possible,” - Emma spoke, as if to herself. - -The driver knelt also and examined the face of the man. Then he took -the head in both his hands and raised it. “What are you doing?” screamed -Emma, hoarsely, shrinking back at the sight of the head that seemed to -be rising of its own volition. - -“Please, Miss--I’m afraid--I’m thinking--there’s a great misfortune -happened--” - -“No--no--it’s not true!” said Emma. “It can’t be true!--You are not -hurt? Nor am I--” - -The man let the head he held fall back again into the lap of the -trembling Emma. “If only some one would come--if the peasants had only -passed fifteen minutes later.” - -“What shall we do?” asked Emma, her lips trembling. - -“Why, you see, Miss, if the carriage was all right--but it’s no good as -it is--we’ve got to wait till some one comes--” he talked on, but Emma -did not hear him. Her brain seemed to awake suddenly, and she knew what -was to be done. “How far is it to the nearest house?” she asked. - -“Not much further, Miss--there’s Franz-Josef’s land right there. We’d see -the houses if it was lighter--it won’t take five minutes to get there.” - -“Go there, then; I’ll stay here--Go and fetch some one.” - -“I think I’d better stay here with you, Miss. Somebody must come; it’s -the main road.” - -“It’ll be too late; we need a doctor at once.” - -The coachman looked down at the quiet face, then he looked at Emma, and -shook his head. - -“You can’t tell,” she cried. - -“Yes, Miss--but there’ll be no doctor in those houses.” - -“But there’ll be somebody to send to the city--” - -“Oh, yes, Miss--they’ll be having a telephone there, anyway! We’ll -telephone to the Rescue Society.” - -“Yes, yes, that’s it. Go at once, run--and bring some men back with you. -Why do you wait? Go at once. Hurry!” - -The man looked down again at the white face in her lap. “There’ll be no -use here for doctor or Rescue Society, Miss.” - -“Oh, go!--for God’s sake go!” - -“I’m going, Miss--but don’t get afraid in the darkness here.” - -He hurried down the street. “‘Twasn’t my fault,” he murmured as he ran. -“Such an idea! to drive down this road this time o’ night.” - -Emma was left alone with the unconscious man in the gloomy street. - -“What shall I do now?” she thought “It can’t be possible--it can’t.” The -thought circled dizzily in her brain--“It can’t be possible.” Suddenly -she seemed to hear a low breathing. She bent to the pale lips--no--not -the faintest breath came from them. The blood had dried on temple and -cheek. She gazed at the eyes, the half-closed eyes, and shuddered. Why -couldn’t she believe it?... It must be true--this was Death! A shiver -ran through her--she felt but one thing--“This is a corpse. I am here -alone with a corpse!--a corpse that rests on my lap!” With trembling -hands she pushed the head away, until it rested on the ground. Then -a feeling of horrible alone-ness came over her. Why had she sent the -coachman away? What should she do here all alone with this dead man in -the darkness? If only some one would come--but what was she to do then -if anybody did come? How long would she have to wait here? She looked -down at the corpse again. “But I’m not alone with him,” she thought, -“the light is there.” And the light seemed to her to become alive, -something sweet and friendly, to which she owed gratitude. There was -more life in this little flame than in all the wide night about her. It -seemed almost as if this light was a protection for her, a protection -against the terrible pale man who lay on the ground beside her. She -stared into the light until her eyes wavered and the flame began to -dance. Suddenly she felt herself awake--wide awake. She sprang to her -feet. Oh, this would not do! It would not do at all--no one must find -her here with him. She seemed to be outside of herself, looking at -herself standing there on the road, the corpse and the light below her; -she saw herself grow into strange, enormous proportions, high up into -the darkness. “What am I waiting for?” she asked herself, and her brain -reeled. “What am I waiting for? The people who might come? They don’t -need me. They will come, and they will ask questions--and I--why am I -here? They will ask who I am--what shall I answer? I will not answer -them--I will not say a word--they cannot compel me to talk.” - -The sound of voices came from the distance. - -“Already?” she thought, listening in terror. The voices came from the -bridge. It could not be the men the driver was bringing with him. But -whoever it was would see the light--and they must not see it, for then -she would be discovered. She overturned the lantern with her foot, -and the light went out. She stood in utter darkness. She could see -nothing--not even him. The pile of % stones shone dimly. The voices came -nearer. She trembled from head to foot; they must not find her here. -That was the only thing of real importance in all the wide world--that -no one should find her here. She would be lost if they knew that -this--this corpse--was her lover. She clasps her hands convulsively, -praying that the people, whoever they were, might pass by on the farther -side of the road, and not see her. She listens breathless. Yes, they are -there, on the other side--women, two women, or perhaps three. What are -they talking about? They have seen the carriage, they speak of it--she -can distinguish words. “A carriage upset--” What else do they -say? She cannot understand--they walk on--they have passed -her--Ah--thanks--thanks to Heaven!--And now? What now? Oh, why isn’t -she dead, as he is? He is to be envied; there is no more danger, no more -fear for him. But so much--so much for her to tremble for. She shivers -at the thought of being found here, of being asked, “Who are you?” She -will have to go to the police station, and all the world will know about -it--her husband--her child. She cannot understand why she has stood -there motionless so long. She need not stay here--she can do no good -here--and she is only courting disaster for herself. She makes a step -forward--Careful! the ditch is here--she crosses it--how wet it is--two -paces more and she is in the middle of the street. She halts a moment, -looks straight ahead, and can finally distinguish the gray line of the -road leading onward into darkness. There--over there--lies the city. She -cannot see it, but she knows the way. She turns once more. It does -not seem so dark now. She can see the carriage and the horses quite -distinctly--and, looking hard, she seems to see the outline of a human -body on the ground. Her eyes open wide. Something seems to clutch at her -and hold her here--it is he--she feels his power to keep her with him. -With an effort she frees herself. Then she perceives that -it was the soft mud of the road that held her. And she walks -onward--faster--faster--her pace quickens to a run. Only to be away from -here, to be back in the light--in the noise--among men. She runs along -the street, raising her skirt high, that her steps may not be hindered. -The wind is behind her, and seems to push her along. She does not know -what it is she flees from. Is it the pale man back there by the ditch? -No, now she knows, she flees the living, not the dead, the living, who -will soon be there, and who will look for her. What will they think? -Will they follow her? But they cannot catch up with her now, she is so -far away, she is nearing the bridge, there is danger. No one can know -who she was, no one can possibly imagine who the woman was who drove -down through the country road with the dead man. The driver does not -know her; he would not recognize her if he should ever see her again. -They will not take the trouble to find out who she is. Who cares? It was -wise of her not to stay--and it was not cowardly either. Franz himself -would say it was wise. She must go home; she has a husband, a child; she -would be lost if any one should see her there with her dead lover. There -is the bridge; the street seems lighter--she hears the water beneath -her. She stands there, where they stood together, arm in arm--when was -it? How many hours ago? It cannot be long since then. And yet--perhaps -she lay unconscious long, and it is midnight now, or near morning, and -they have missed her at home. Oh, no--it is not possible. She knows -that she was not unconscious, she remembers everything clearly. She runs -across the bridge, shivering at the sound of her own steps. Now she sees -a figure coming toward her; she slows her pace. It is a man in uniform. -She walks more slowly, she does not want to attract attention. She feels -the man’s eyes resting on her--suppose he stops her! Now he is quite -near; it is a policeman. She walks calmly past him, and hears him stop -behind her. With an effort she continues in the same slow pace. She -hears the jingle of street-car bells--ah, it cannot be midnight yet. She -walks more quickly--hurrying toward the city, the lights of which begin -there by the railroad viaduct--the growing noise tells her how near she -is. One lonely stretch of street, and then she is safe. Now she hears -a shrill whistle coming rapidly nearer--a wagon flies swiftly past her. -She stops and looks after it; it is the ambulance of the Rescue Society. -She knows where it is going. “How quickly they have come,” she thinks; -“it is like magic.” For a moment she feels that she must call to them, -must go back with them. Shame, terrible, overwhelming shame, such las -she has never known before, shakes her from head to foot--she knows how -vile, how cowardly she is. Then, as the whistle and the rumble of -wheels fade away in the distance, a mad joy takes hold of her. She is -saved--saved! She hurries on; she meets more people, but she does not -fear them--the worst is over. The noise of the city grows louder, the -street is lighter, the skyline of the Prater street rises before her, -and she knows that she can sink into a flood tide of humanity there and -lose herself in it. When she comes to a street lamp she is quite calm -enough now to take out her watch and look at it. It is ten minutes to -nine. She holds the watch to her ear--it is ticking merrily. And she -thinks: “Here I am, alive, unharmed--and he--he--dead. It is Fate.” She -feels as if all had been forgiven--as if she had never sinned. And what -if Fate had willed otherwise? If it were she lying there in the ditch, -and he who remained alive? He would not have run away--but then he is -a man. She is only a woman, she has a husband, a child--it was her -right--her duty--to save herself. She knows that it was not a sense of -duty that impelled her to do it. But what she has done was right--she -had done right instinctively--as all good people do. If she had stayed -she would have been discovered by this time. The doctors would question -her. And all the papers would report it next morning; she would have -been ruined forever, and yet her ruin could not bring him back to life. -Yes, that was the main point, her sacrifice would have been all in -vain. She crosses under the railway bridge and hurries on. There is the -Tegethoff Column, where so many streets meet. There are but few people -in the park on this stormy evening, but to her it seems as if the life -of the city was roaring about her. It was so horribly still back there. -She had plenty of time now. She knows that her husband will not be home -before ten o’clock. She will have time to change her clothes. And then -it occurs to her to look at her gown. She is horrified to see how soiled -it is. What shall she say to the maid about it? And next morning the -papers will all bring the story of the accident, and they will tell of a -woman. Who had been in the carriage, and who had run away. She trembled -afresh. One single carelessness and she is lost, even now. But she has -her latch-key with her; she can let herself in; no one will hear her -come. She jumps into a cab and is about to give her address, then -suddenly she remembers that this would not be wise. She gives any number -that occurs to her. - -As she drives through the Prater street she wishes that she might feel -something--grief-horror--but she cannot. She has but one thought, one -desire--to be at home, in safety. All else is indifferent to her. When -she had decided to leave him alone, dead, by the roadside--in that -moment everything seemed to have died within her, everything that -would mourn and grieve for him. She has no feeling but that of fear for -herself. She is not heartless--she knows that the day will come when her -sorrow will be despair--it may kill her even. But she knows nothing now, -except the desire to sit quietly at home, at the supper table with her -husband and child. She looks out through the cab window. She is driving -through the streets of the inner city. It is brilliantly light here, -and many people hurry past. Suddenly all that she has experienced in -the last few hours seems not to be true, it is like an evil dream; -not something real, irreparable. She stops her cab in one of the side -streets of the Ring, gets out, turns a corner quickly, and takes another -carriage, giving her own address this time. She does not seem able to -think of anything any more. “Where is he now?” She closes her eyes and -sees him on the litter, in the ambulance. Suddenly she feels that he is -here beside her. The cab sways, she feels the terror of being thrown out -again, and she screams aloud. The cab halts before the door of her home. -She dismounts hastily, hurries with light steps through the house door, -unseen by the concierge, runs up the stairs, opens her apartment door -very gently, aind slips unseen into her own room. She undresses hastily, -hiding the mud-stained clothes in her cupboard. To-morrow, when they are -dry, she can clean them herself. She washes hands and face, and slips -into a loose housegown. - -The bell rings. She hears the maid open the door, she hears her -husband’s voice, and the rattle of his cane on the hat-stand. She feels -she must be brave now or it will all have been in vain. She hurries to -the dining-room, entering one door as her husband comes in at the other. - -“Ah, you’re home already?” he asks. - -“Why, yes,” she replies, “I have been home some time.” - -“They evidently didn’t hear you come in.” - -She smiles without effort. But it fatigues her horribly to have to -smile. He kisses her forehead. - -The little boy is already at his place by the table. He has been waiting -some time, and has fallen asleep, his head resting on an open book. - -She sits down beside him; her husband takes his chair opposite, takes -up a paper, and glances carelessly at it. Then he says: “The others are -still talking away there.” - -“What about?” she asks. - -And he begins to tell her about the meeting, at length. Emma pretends to -listen, and nods now and then. But she does not hear what he is saying, -she feels dazed, like one who has escaped terrible danger as by a -miracle; she can feel only this: “I am safe; I am at home.” And while -her husband is talking she pulls her chair nearer the boy’s and lifts -his head to her shoulder. Fatigue inexpressible comes over her. She can -no longer control herself; she feels that her eyes are closing, that she -is dropping asleep. - -Suddenly another possibility presents itself to her mind, a possibility -that she had dismissed the moment she turned to leave the ditch where -she had fallen. Suppose he were not dead! Suppose--oh, but it is -impossible--his eyes--his--lips--not a breath came from them! But there -are trances that are like death, which deceive even practised eyes, and -she knows nothing about such things. Suppose he is still alive--suppose -he has regained consciousness and found himself alone by the -roadside--suppose he calls her by her name? He might think she had been -injured; he might tell the doctors that there was a woman with him, and -that she must have been thrown to some distance. They will look for her. -The coachman will come back with the men he has brought, and will tell -them that she was there, unhurt--and Franz will know the truth. Franz -knows her so well--he will know that she has run away--and a great anger -will come over him. He will tell them her name in revenge. For he is -mortally injured, and it will hurt him cruelly that she has left him -alone in his last hour. He will say: “That is Mrs. Emma ------. I am her -lover. She is cowardly and stupid, too, gentlemen, for she might have -known you would not ask her name; you would be discreet; you would have -let her go away unmolested. Oh, she might at least have waited until you -came. But she is vile--utterly vile--ah!--” - -“What is the matter?” asks the Professor, very gravely, rising from his -chair. - -“What? What?” - -“Yes, what is the matter with you?” - -“Nothing.” She presses the boy closer to her breast. - -The Professor looks at her for a few minutes steadily. - -“Didn’t you know that you had fallen asleep, and--” - -“Well?-- And--” - -“And then you screamed out in your sleep.” - -“Did I?” - -“You screamed as if you were having a nightmare. Were you dreaming?” - -“I don’t know--” - -And she sees her face in a mirror opposite, a face tortured into a -ghastly smile. She knows it is her own face, and it terrifies her. She -sees that it is frozen; that this hideous smile is frozen on it, and -will always be there, all her life. She tries to cry out. Two hands are -laid on her shoulders, and between her own face and the mirrored one her -husband’s face pushes its way in; his eyes pierce into hers. She knows -that unless she is strong for this last trial all is lost. And she -feels that she is strong; she has regained control of her limbs, but the -moment of strength is short. She raises her hands to his, which rest -on her shoulders; she draws him down to her, and smiles naturally and -tenderly into his eyes. - -She feels his lips on her forehead, and she thinks: “It is all a -dream--he will never tell--he will never take revenge like that--he is -dead--really dead--and the dead are silent--” - -“Why did you say that?” she hears her husband’s voice suddenly. - -She starts. “What did I say?” And it seems to her as if she had told -everything, here at the table--aloud before every one--and again she -asks, shuddering before his horrified eyes, “What did I say?” - -“The dead are silent,” her husband repeats very slowly. - -“Yes,” she answers. - -And she reads in his eyes that she can no longer hide anything from him. -They look long and silently at each other. “Put the boy to bed,” he says -at last. “You have something to tell me, have you not?” - -“Yes--” - -She knows now that within a few moments she will tell this man -everything--this man, whom she has deceived for many years. - -And while she goes slowly through the door, holding her boy, she feels -her husband’s eyes still resting on her, and a great peace comes over -her, the assurance that now many things would be right again. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s The Dead Are Silent, by Arthur Schnitzler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEAD ARE SILENT *** - -***** This file should be named 23061-0.txt or 23061-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/6/23061/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Dead Are Silent - 1907 - -Author: Arthur Schnitzler - -Release Date: October 17, 2007 [EBook #23061] -Last Updated: November 19, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEAD ARE SILENT *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE DEAD ARE SILENT - </h1> - <h2> - By Arthur Schnitzler - </h2> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h4> - Copyright, 1907, by Courtland H. Young - </h4> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p> - HE could endure the quiet waiting in the carriage no longer; it was easier - to get out and walk up and down. It was now dark; the few scattered lamps - in the narrow side street quivered uneasily in the wind. The rain had - stopped, the sidewalks were almost dry, but the rough-paved roadway was - still moist, and little pools gleamed here and there. - </p> - <p> - “Strange, isn’t it?” thought Franz. “Here we are scarcely a hundred paces - from the Prater, and yet it might be a street in some little country town. - Well, it’s safe enough, at any rate. She won’t meet any of the friends she - dreads so much here.” - </p> - <p> - He looked at his watch. “Only just seven, and so dark already! It is an - early autumn this year... and then this confounded storm I...” He turned - his coat-collar up about his neck and quickened his pacing. The glass in - the street lamps rattled lightly. - </p> - <p> - “Half an hour more,” he said to himself, “then I can go home. I could - almost wish—that that half-hour were over.” He stood for a moment on - the corner, where he could command a view of both streets. “She’ll surely - come to-day,” his thoughts ran on, while he struggled with his hat, which - threatened to blow away. “It’s Friday.... Faculty meeting at the - University; she needn’t hurry home.” He heard the clanging of street-car - gongs, and the hour chimed from a nearby church tower. The street became - more animated. Hurrying figures passed him, clerks of neighboring shops; - they hastened onward, fighting against the storm. No one noticed him; a - couple of half-grown girls glanced up in idle curiosity as they went by. - Suddenly he saw a familiar figure coming toward him. He hastened to meet - her.... Could it be she? On foot? - </p> - <p> - She saw him, and quickened her pace. - </p> - <p> - “You are walking?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “I dismissed the cab in front of the theatre. I think I’ve had that driver - before.” - </p> - <p> - A man passed them, turning to look at the lady. Her companion glared at - him, and the other passed on hurriedly. The lady looked after him. “Who - was it?” she asked, anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t know him. We’ll see no one we know here, don’t worry. But come now, - let’s get into the cab.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that your carriage?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “An open one?” - </p> - <p> - “It was warm and pleasant when I engaged it an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - They walked to the carriage; the lady stepped in. - </p> - <p> - “Driver!” called the man. - </p> - <p> - “Why, where is he?” asked the lady. - </p> - <p> - Franz looked around. “Well, did you ever? I don’t see him anywhere.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh—” her tone was low and timid. - </p> - <p> - “Wait a moment, child, he must be around here somewhere.” - </p> - <p> - The young man opened the door of a little saloon, and discovered his - driver at a table with several others. The man rose hastily. “In a minute, - sir,” he explained, swallowing his glass of wine. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by this?” - </p> - <p> - “All right, sir... Be there in a minute.” His step was a little unsteady - as he hastened to his horses. “Where’ll you go, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Prater—Summer-house.” - </p> - <p> - Franz entered the carriage. His companion sat back in a corner, crouching - fearsomely under the shadow of the cover. - </p> - <p> - He took both her hands in his. She sat silent. “Won’t you say good evening - to me?” - </p> - <p> - “Give me a moment to rest, dear. I’m still out of breath.” - </p> - <p> - He leaned back in his corner. Neither spoke for some minutes. The carriage - turned into the Prater Street, passed the Tegethoff Monument, and a few - minutes later was rolling swiftly through the broad, dark Prater Avenue. - </p> - <p> - Emma turned suddenly and flung both arms around her lover’s neck. He - lifted the veil that still hung about her face, and kissed her. - </p> - <p> - “I have you again—at last!” she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know how long it is since we have seen each other?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Since Sunday.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and that wasn’t good for much.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not? You were in our house.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—in your house. That’s just it. This can’t go on. I shall not - enter your house again.... What’s the matter?” - </p> - <p> - “A carriage passed us.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear girl, the people who are driving in the Prater at such an hour, and - in such weather, aren’t noticing much what other people are doing.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—that’s so. But some one might look in here, by chance.” - </p> - <p> - “We couldn’t be recognized. It’s too dark.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—but can’t we drive somewhere else?” - </p> - <p> - “Just as you like.” He called to the driver, who did not seem to hear. - Franz leaned forward and touched the man. - </p> - <p> - “Turn around again. What are you whipping your horses like that for? We’re - in no hurry, I tell you. Drive—let me see—yes—drive down - the avenue that leads to the Reichs Bridge.” - </p> - <p> - “The Reichsstrasse?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. But don’t hurry so, there’s no need of it.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, sir. But it’s the wind that makes the horses so crazy.” - </p> - <p> - Franz sat back again as the carriage turned in the other direction. - </p> - <p> - “Why didn’t I see you yesterday?” - </p> - <p> - “How could I?”... - </p> - <p> - “You were invited to my sister’s.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh—yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Why weren’t you there?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I can’t be with you—like that—with others around. No, - I just can’t.” She shivered. “Where are we now?” she asked, after a - moment. - </p> - <p> - They were passing under the railroad bridge at the entrance to the - Reichsstrasse. - </p> - <p> - “On the way to the Danube,” replied Franz. “We’re driving toward the - Reichs Bridge. We’ll certainly not meet any of our friends here,” he - added, with a touch of mockery. - </p> - <p> - “The carriage jolts dreadfully.” - </p> - <p> - “We’re on cobblestones again.” - </p> - <p> - “But he drives so crooked.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you only think so.” - </p> - <p> - He had begun to notice himself that the vehicle was swaying to and fro - more than was necessary, even on the rough pavement. But he said nothing, - not wishing to alarm her. - </p> - <p> - “There’s a great deal I want to say to you today, Emma.” - </p> - <p> - “You had better begin then; I must be home at nine o’clock.” - </p> - <p> - “A few words may decide everything.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, goodness, what was that!” she screamed. The wheels had caught in a - car-track, and the carriage turned partly over as the driver attempted to - free it. Franz caught at the man’s coat. “Stop that!” he cried. “Why, - you’re drunk, man!” - </p> - <p> - The driver halted his horses with some difficulty. “Oh, no—sir—” - </p> - <p> - “Let’s get out here, Emma, and walk.” - </p> - <p> - “Where are we?” - </p> - <p> - “Here’s the bridge already. And the wind is not nearly as strong as it - was. It will be nicer to walk a little. It’s so hard to talk in the - carriage.” - </p> - <p> - Emma drew down her veil and followed him. “Don’t you call this windy?” she - exclaimed as she struggled against the gust that met her at the corner. - </p> - <p> - He took her arm, and called to the driver to follow them. - </p> - <p> - They walked on slowly. Neither spoke as they mounted the ascent of the - bridge; and they halted where they could hear the flow of the water below - them. Heavy darkness surrounded them. The broad stream stretched itself - out in gray, indefinite outlines; red lights in the distance, floating - above the water, awoke answering gleams from its surface. Trembling - stripes of light reached down from the shore they had just left; on the - other side of the bridge the river lost itself in the blackness of open - fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance; they looked over to where the red - lights soared. A train with lighted windows rolled between iron arches - that seemed to spring up out of the night for an instant, to sink back - into darkness again. The thunder grew fainter and more distant; silence - fell again; only the wind moved, in sudden gusts. - </p> - <p> - Franz spoke at last, after a long silence. “We must go away.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” Emma answered, softly. - </p> - <p> - “We must go away,” he continued, with more animation. “Go away altogether, - I mean—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, we can’t!” - </p> - <p> - “Only because we are cowards, Emma.” - </p> - <p> - “And my child?” - </p> - <p> - “He will let you have the boy, I know.” - </p> - <p> - “But how shall we go?” Her voice was very low. “You mean—to run away—” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all. You have only to be honest with him; to tell him that you - cannot live with him any longer; that you belong to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Franz—are you mad?” - </p> - <p> - “I will spare you that trial, if you wish. I will tell him myself.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Franz, you will do nothing of the kind.” - </p> - <p> - He endeavored to read her face. But the darkness showed him only that her - head was turned toward him. - </p> - <p> - He was silent a few moments more. Then he spoke quietly: “You need not - fear; I shall not do it.” - </p> - <p> - They walked toward the farther shore. “Don’t you hear a noise?” she asked. - “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Something is coming from the other side,” he said. - </p> - <p> - A slow rumbling came out of the darkness. A little red light gleamed out - at them. They could see that it hung from the axle of a clumsy country - cart, but they could not see whether the cart was laden or not and whether - there were human beings on it. Two other carts followed the first. They - could just see the outlines of a man in peasant garb on the last cart, and - could see that he was lighting his pipe. The carts passed them slowly. - Soon there was nothing to be heard but the low rolling of the wheels as - their own carriage followed them. The bridge dropped gently to the farther - shore. They saw the street disappear into blackness between rows of trees. - Open fields lay before them to the right and to the left; they gazed out - into gloom indistinguishable. - </p> - <p> - There was another long silence before Franz spoke again. “Then it is the - last time—” - </p> - <p> - “What?—” Emma’s tone was anxious. - </p> - <p> - “The last time we are to be together. Stay with him, if you will. I bid - you farewell.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you serious?” - </p> - <p> - “Absolutely.” - </p> - <p> - “There, now you see, it is you who always spoil the few hours we have - together?—not I.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you’re right,” said Franz. “Let’s drive back to town.” - </p> - <p> - She held his arm closer. “No,” she insisted, tenderly, “I don’t want to go - back. I won’t be sent away from you.” - </p> - <p> - She drew his head down to hers, and kissed him tenderly. “Where would we - get to if we drove on down there?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the road to Prague, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “We won’t go quite that far,” she smiled, “but I’d like to drive on a - little, down there.” She pointed into the darkness. - </p> - <p> - Franz called to the driver. There was no answer; the carriage rumbled on, - slowly. Franz ran after it, and saw that the driver was fast asleep. Franz - roused him roughly. “We want to drive on down that street. Do you hear - me?” - </p> - <p> - “All right, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Emma entered the carriage first, then Franz. The driver whipped his - horses, and they galloped madly over the moist earth of the road-bed. The - couple inside the cab held each other closely as they swayed with the - motion of the vehicle. - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t this quite nice?” whispered Emma, her lips on his. - </p> - <p> - In the moment of her words she seemed to feel the cab mounting into the - air. She felt herself thrown over violently, readied for some hold, but - grasped only the empty air. She seemed to be spinning madly like a top, - her eyes closed, suddenly she found herself lying on the ground, a great - silence about her, as if she were alone, far away from all the world. Then - noises began to come into her consciousness again; hoofs beat the ground - near her; a low moaning came from somewhere; but she could see nothing. - Terror seized her; she screamed aloud. Her terror grew stronger, for she - could not hear her own voice. Suddenly she knew what had happened; the - carriage had hit some object, possibly a mile-stone; had upset, and she - had been thrown out. Where is Franz? was her next thought. She called his - name. And now she could hear her voice, not distinctly yet, but she could - hear it. There was no answer to her call. She tried to get up. After some - effort she rose to a sitting, posture, and, reaching out, she felt - something, a human body, on the ground beside her. She could now begin to - see a little through the dimness. Franz lay beside her, motionless. She - put out her hand and touched his face; something warm and wet covered it. - Her heart seemed to stop beating—Blood?—Oh, what had happened? - Franz was wounded and unconscious. Where was the coachman? She called him, - but no answer came. She still sat there on the ground. She did not seem to - be injured, although she ached all over. “What shall I do?” she thought; - “what shall I do? How can it be that I am not injured? Franz!” she called - again. A voice answered from somewhere near her. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you, lady? And where is the gentleman? Wait a minute, Miss—I’ll - light the lamps, so we can see. I don’t know what’s got into the beasts - to-day. It ain’t my fault, Miss, sure—they ran into a pile of - stones.” - </p> - <p> - Emma managed to stand up, although she was bruised all over. The fact that - the coachman seemed quite uninjured reassured her somewhat. She heard the - man opening the lamp and striking a match. She waited anxiously for the - light. She did not dare to touch Franz again. “It’s all so much worse when - you can’t see plainly,” she thought. “His eyes may be open now—there - won’t be anything wrong....” - </p> - <p> - A tiny ray of light came from one side. She saw the carriage, not - completely upset, as she had thought, but leaning over toward the ground, - as if one wheel were broken. The horses stood quietly. She saw the - milestone, then a heap of loose stones, and beyond them a ditch. Then the - light touched Franz’s feet, crept up over his body to his face, and rested - there. The coachman had set the lamp on the ground beside the head of the - unconscious man. Emma dropped to her knees, and her heart seemed to stop - beating as she looked into the face before her. It was ghastly white; the - eyes were half open, only the white showing. A thin stream of blood - trickled down from one temple and ran into his collar. The teeth were - fastened into the under lip. “No—no—it isn’t possible,” Emma - spoke, as if to herself. - </p> - <p> - The driver knelt also and examined the face of the man. Then he took the - head in both his hands and raised it. “What are you doing?” screamed Emma, - hoarsely, shrinking back at the sight of the head that seemed to be rising - of its own volition. - </p> - <p> - “Please, Miss—I’m afraid—I’m thinking—there’s a great - misfortune happened—” - </p> - <p> - “No—no—it’s not true!” said Emma. “It can’t be true!—You - are not hurt? Nor am I—” - </p> - <p> - The man let the head he held fall back again into the lap of the trembling - Emma. “If only some one would come—if the peasants had only passed - fifteen minutes later.” - </p> - <p> - “What shall we do?” asked Emma, her lips trembling. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you see, Miss, if the carriage was all right—but it’s no good - as it is—we’ve got to wait till some one comes—” he talked on, - but Emma did not hear him. Her brain seemed to awake suddenly, and she - knew what was to be done. “How far is it to the nearest house?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Not much further, Miss—there’s Franz-Josef’s land right there. We’d - see the houses if it was lighter—it won’t take five minutes to get - there.” - </p> - <p> - “Go there, then; I’ll stay here—Go and fetch some one.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I’d better stay here with you, Miss. Somebody must come; it’s the - main road.” - </p> - <p> - “It’ll be too late; we need a doctor at once.” - </p> - <p> - The coachman looked down at the quiet face, then he looked at Emma, and - shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “You can’t tell,” she cried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Miss—but there’ll be no doctor in those houses.” - </p> - <p> - “But there’ll be somebody to send to the city—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, Miss—they’ll be having a telephone there, anyway! We’ll - telephone to the Rescue Society.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, that’s it. Go at once, run—and bring some men back with - you. Why do you wait? Go at once. Hurry!” - </p> - <p> - The man looked down again at the white face in her lap. “There’ll be no - use here for doctor or Rescue Society, Miss.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, go!—for God’s sake go!” - </p> - <p> - “I’m going, Miss—but don’t get afraid in the darkness here.” - </p> - <p> - He hurried down the street. “‘Twasn’t my fault,” he murmured as he ran. - “Such an idea! to drive down this road this time o’ night.” - </p> - <p> - Emma was left alone with the unconscious man in the gloomy street. - </p> - <p> - “What shall I do now?” she thought “It can’t be possible—it can’t.” - The thought circled dizzily in her brain—“It can’t be possible.” - Suddenly she seemed to hear a low breathing. She bent to the pale lips—no—not - the faintest breath came from them. The blood had dried on temple and - cheek. She gazed at the eyes, the half-closed eyes, and shuddered. Why - couldn’t she believe it?... It must be true—this was Death! A shiver - ran through her—she felt but one thing—“This is a corpse. I am - here alone with a corpse!—a corpse that rests on my lap!” With - trembling hands she pushed the head away, until it rested on the ground. - Then a feeling of horrible alone-ness came over her. Why had she sent the - coachman away? What should she do here all alone with this dead man in the - darkness? If only some one would come—but what was she to do then if - anybody did come? How long would she have to wait here? She looked down at - the corpse again. “But I’m not alone with him,” she thought, “the light is - there.” And the light seemed to her to become alive, something sweet and - friendly, to which she owed gratitude. There was more life in this little - flame than in all the wide night about her. It seemed almost as if this - light was a protection for her, a protection against the terrible pale man - who lay on the ground beside her. She stared into the light until her eyes - wavered and the flame began to dance. Suddenly she felt herself awake—wide - awake. She sprang to her feet. Oh, this would not do! It would not do at - all—no one must find her here with him. She seemed to be outside of - herself, looking at herself standing there on the road, the corpse and the - light below her; she saw herself grow into strange, enormous proportions, - high up into the darkness. “What am I waiting for?” she asked herself, and - her brain reeled. “What am I waiting for? The people who might come? They - don’t need me. They will come, and they will ask questions—and I—why - am I here? They will ask who I am—what shall I answer? I will not - answer them—I will not say a word—they cannot compel me to - talk.” - </p> - <p> - The sound of voices came from the distance. - </p> - <p> - “Already?” she thought, listening in terror. The voices came from the - bridge. It could not be the men the driver was bringing with him. But - whoever it was would see the light—and they must not see it, for - then she would be discovered. She overturned the lantern with her foot, - and the light went out. She stood in utter darkness. She could see nothing—not - even him. The pile of % stones shone dimly. The voices came nearer. She - trembled from head to foot; they must not find her here. That was the only - thing of real importance in all the wide world—that no one should - find her here. She would be lost if they knew that this—this corpse—was - her lover. She clasps her hands convulsively, praying that the people, - whoever they were, might pass by on the farther side of the road, and not - see her. She listens breathless. Yes, they are there, on the other side—women, - two women, or perhaps three. What are they talking about? They have seen - the carriage, they speak of it—she can distinguish words. “A - carriage upset—” What else do they say? She cannot understand—they - walk on—they have passed her—Ah—thanks—thanks to - Heaven!—And now? What now? Oh, why isn’t she dead, as he is? He is - to be envied; there is no more danger, no more fear for him. But so much—so - much for her to tremble for. She shivers at the thought of being found - here, of being asked, “Who are you?” She will have to go to the police - station, and all the world will know about it—her husband—her - child. She cannot understand why she has stood there motionless so long. - She need not stay here—she can do no good here—and she is only - courting disaster for herself. She makes a step forward—Careful! the - ditch is here—she crosses it—how wet it is—two paces - more and she is in the middle of the street. She halts a moment, looks - straight ahead, and can finally distinguish the gray line of the road - leading onward into darkness. There—over there—lies the city. - She cannot see it, but she knows the way. She turns once more. It does not - seem so dark now. She can see the carriage and the horses quite distinctly—and, - looking hard, she seems to see the outline of a human body on the ground. - Her eyes open wide. Something seems to clutch at her and hold her here—it - is he—she feels his power to keep her with him. With an effort she - frees herself. Then she perceives that it was the soft mud of the road - that held her. And she walks onward—faster—faster—her - pace quickens to a run. Only to be away from here, to be back in the light—in - the noise—among men. She runs along the street, raising her skirt - high, that her steps may not be hindered. The wind is behind her, and - seems to push her along. She does not know what it is she flees from. Is - it the pale man back there by the ditch? No, now she knows, she flees the - living, not the dead, the living, who will soon be there, and who will - look for her. What will they think? Will they follow her? But they cannot - catch up with her now, she is so far away, she is nearing the bridge, - there is danger. No one can know who she was, no one can possibly imagine - who the woman was who drove down through the country road with the dead - man. The driver does not know her; he would not recognize her if he should - ever see her again. They will not take the trouble to find out who she is. - Who cares? It was wise of her not to stay—and it was not cowardly - either. Franz himself would say it was wise. She must go home; she has a - husband, a child; she would be lost if any one should see her there with - her dead lover. There is the bridge; the street seems lighter—she - hears the water beneath her. She stands there, where they stood together, - arm in arm—when was it? How many hours ago? It cannot be long since - then. And yet—perhaps she lay unconscious long, and it is midnight - now, or near morning, and they have missed her at home. Oh, no—it is - not possible. She knows that she was not unconscious, she remembers - everything clearly. She runs across the bridge, shivering at the sound of - her own steps. Now she sees a figure coming toward her; she slows her - pace. It is a man in uniform. She walks more slowly, she does not want to - attract attention. She feels the man’s eyes resting on her—suppose - he stops her! Now he is quite near; it is a policeman. She walks calmly - past him, and hears him stop behind her. With an effort she continues in - the same slow pace. She hears the jingle of street-car bells—ah, it - cannot be midnight yet. She walks more quickly—hurrying toward the - city, the lights of which begin there by the railroad viaduct—the - growing noise tells her how near she is. One lonely stretch of street, and - then she is safe. Now she hears a shrill whistle coming rapidly nearer—a - wagon flies swiftly past her. She stops and looks after it; it is the - ambulance of the Rescue Society. She knows where it is going. “How quickly - they have come,” she thinks; “it is like magic.” For a moment she feels - that she must call to them, must go back with them. Shame, terrible, - overwhelming shame, such las she has never known before, shakes her from - head to foot—she knows how vile, how cowardly she is. Then, as the - whistle and the rumble of wheels fade away in the distance, a mad joy - takes hold of her. She is saved—saved! She hurries on; she meets - more people, but she does not fear them—the worst is over. The noise - of the city grows louder, the street is lighter, the skyline of the Prater - street rises before her, and she knows that she can sink into a flood tide - of humanity there and lose herself in it. When she comes to a street lamp - she is quite calm enough now to take out her watch and look at it. It is - ten minutes to nine. She holds the watch to her ear—it is ticking - merrily. And she thinks: “Here I am, alive, unharmed—and he—he—dead. - It is Fate.” She feels as if all had been forgiven—as if she had - never sinned. And what if Fate had willed otherwise? If it were she lying - there in the ditch, and he who remained alive? He would not have run away—but - then he is a man. She is only a woman, she has a husband, a child—it - was her right—her duty—to save herself. She knows that it was - not a sense of duty that impelled her to do it. But what she has done was - right—she had done right instinctively—as all good people do. - If she had stayed she would have been discovered by this time. The doctors - would question her. And all the papers would report it next morning; she - would have been ruined forever, and yet her ruin could not bring him back - to life. Yes, that was the main point, her sacrifice would have been all - in vain. She crosses under the railway bridge and hurries on. There is the - Tegethoff Column, where so many streets meet. There are but few people in - the park on this stormy evening, but to her it seems as if the life of the - city was roaring about her. It was so horribly still back there. She had - plenty of time now. She knows that her husband will not be home before ten - o’clock. She will have time to change her clothes. And then it occurs to - her to look at her gown. She is horrified to see how soiled it is. What - shall she say to the maid about it? And next morning the papers will all - bring the story of the accident, and they will tell of a woman. Who had - been in the carriage, and who had run away. She trembled afresh. One - single carelessness and she is lost, even now. But she has her latch-key - with her; she can let herself in; no one will hear her come. She jumps - into a cab and is about to give her address, then suddenly she remembers - that this would not be wise. She gives any number that occurs to her. - </p> - <p> - As she drives through the Prater street she wishes that she might feel - something—grief-horror—but she cannot. She has but one - thought, one desire—to be at home, in safety. All else is - indifferent to her. When she had decided to leave him alone, dead, by the - roadside—in that moment everything seemed to have died within her, - everything that would mourn and grieve for him. She has no feeling but - that of fear for herself. She is not heartless—she knows that the - day will come when her sorrow will be despair—it may kill her even. - But she knows nothing now, except the desire to sit quietly at home, at - the supper table with her husband and child. She looks out through the cab - window. She is driving through the streets of the inner city. It is - brilliantly light here, and many people hurry past. Suddenly all that she - has experienced in the last few hours seems not to be true, it is like an - evil dream; not something real, irreparable. She stops her cab in one of - the side streets of the Ring, gets out, turns a corner quickly, and takes - another carriage, giving her own address this time. She does not seem able - to think of anything any more. “Where is he now?” She closes her eyes and - sees him on the litter, in the ambulance. Suddenly she feels that he is - here beside her. The cab sways, she feels the terror of being thrown out - again, and she screams aloud. The cab halts before the door of her home. - She dismounts hastily, hurries with light steps through the house door, - unseen by the concierge, runs up the stairs, opens her apartment door very - gently, aind slips unseen into her own room. She undresses hastily, hiding - the mud-stained clothes in her cupboard. To-morrow, when they are dry, she - can clean them herself. She washes hands and face, and slips into a loose - housegown. - </p> - <p> - The bell rings. She hears the maid open the door, she hears her husband’s - voice, and the rattle of his cane on the hat-stand. She feels she must be - brave now or it will all have been in vain. She hurries to the - dining-room, entering one door as her husband comes in at the other. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you’re home already?” he asks. - </p> - <p> - “Why, yes,” she replies, “I have been home some time.” - </p> - <p> - “They evidently didn’t hear you come in.” - </p> - <p> - She smiles without effort. But it fatigues her horribly to have to smile. - He kisses her forehead. - </p> - <p> - The little boy is already at his place by the table. He has been waiting - some time, and has fallen asleep, his head resting on an open book. - </p> - <p> - She sits down beside him; her husband takes his chair opposite, takes up a - paper, and glances carelessly at it. Then he says: “The others are still - talking away there.” - </p> - <p> - “What about?” she asks. - </p> - <p> - And he begins to tell her about the meeting, at length. Emma pretends to - listen, and nods now and then. But she does not hear what he is saying, - she feels dazed, like one who has escaped terrible danger as by a miracle; - she can feel only this: “I am safe; I am at home.” And while her husband - is talking she pulls her chair nearer the boy’s and lifts his head to her - shoulder. Fatigue inexpressible comes over her. She can no longer control - herself; she feels that her eyes are closing, that she is dropping asleep. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly another possibility presents itself to her mind, a possibility - that she had dismissed the moment she turned to leave the ditch where she - had fallen. Suppose he were not dead! Suppose—oh, but it is - impossible—his eyes—his—lips—not a breath came - from them! But there are trances that are like death, which deceive even - practised eyes, and she knows nothing about such things. Suppose he is - still alive—suppose he has regained consciousness and found himself - alone by the roadside—suppose he calls her by her name? He might - think she had been injured; he might tell the doctors that there was a - woman with him, and that she must have been thrown to some distance. They - will look for her. The coachman will come back with the men he has - brought, and will tell them that she was there, unhurt—and Franz - will know the truth. Franz knows her so well—he will know that she - has run away—and a great anger will come over him. He will tell them - her name in revenge. For he is mortally injured, and it will hurt him - cruelly that she has left him alone in his last hour. He will say: “That - is Mrs. Emma ———. I am her lover. She is cowardly and - stupid, too, gentlemen, for she might have known you would not ask her - name; you would be discreet; you would have let her go away unmolested. - Oh, she might at least have waited until you came. But she is vile—utterly - vile—ah!—” - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter?” asks the Professor, very gravely, rising from his - chair. - </p> - <p> - “What? What?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, what is the matter with you?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing.” She presses the boy closer to her breast. - </p> - <p> - The Professor looks at her for a few minutes steadily. - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t you know that you had fallen asleep, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Well?— And—” - </p> - <p> - “And then you screamed out in your sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Did I?” - </p> - <p> - “You screamed as if you were having a nightmare. Were you dreaming?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know—” - </p> - <p> - And she sees her face in a mirror opposite, a face tortured into a ghastly - smile. She knows it is her own face, and it terrifies her. She sees that - it is frozen; that this hideous smile is frozen on it, and will always be - there, all her life. She tries to cry out. Two hands are laid on her - shoulders, and between her own face and the mirrored one her husband’s - face pushes its way in; his eyes pierce into hers. She knows that unless - she is strong for this last trial all is lost. And she feels that she is - strong; she has regained control of her limbs, but the moment of strength - is short. She raises her hands to his, which rest on her shoulders; she - draws him down to her, and smiles naturally and tenderly into his eyes. - </p> - <p> - She feels his lips on her forehead, and she thinks: “It is all a dream—he - will never tell—he will never take revenge like that—he is - dead—really dead—and the dead are silent—” - </p> - <p> - “Why did you say that?” she hears her husband’s voice suddenly. - </p> - <p> - She starts. “What did I say?” And it seems to her as if she had told - everything, here at the table—aloud before every one—and again - she asks, shuddering before his horrified eyes, “What did I say?” - </p> - <p> - “The dead are silent,” her husband repeats very slowly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she answers. - </p> - <p> - And she reads in his eyes that she can no longer hide anything from him. - They look long and silently at each other. “Put the boy to bed,” he says - at last. “You have something to tell me, have you not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes—” - </p> - <p> - She knows now that within a few moments she will tell this man everything—this - man, whom she has deceived for many years. - </p> - <p> - And while she goes slowly through the door, holding her boy, she feels her - husband’s eyes still resting on her, and a great peace comes over her, the - assurance that now many things would be right again. - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s The Dead Are Silent, by Arthur Schnitzler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEAD ARE SILENT *** - -***** This file should be named 23061-h.htm or 23061-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/6/23061/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Dead Are Silent - 1907 - -Author: Arthur Schnitzler - -Release Date: October 17, 2007 [EBook #23061] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEAD ARE SILENT *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -THE DEAD ARE SILENT - -By Arthur Schnitzler - -Copyright, 1907, by Courtland H. Young - - -HE could endure the quiet waiting in the carriage no longer; it was -easier to get out and walk up and down. It was now dark; the few -scattered lamps in the narrow side street quivered uneasily in the wind. -The rain had stopped, the sidewalks were almost dry, but the rough-paved -roadway was still moist, and little pools gleamed here and there. - -"Strange, isn't it?" thought Franz. "Here we are scarcely a hundred -paces from the Prater, and yet it might be a street in some little -country town. Well, it's safe enough, at any rate. She won't meet any of -the friends she dreads so much here." - -He looked at his watch. "Only just seven, and so dark already! It is an -early autumn this year... and then this confounded storm I..." He turned -his coat-collar up about his neck and quickened his pacing. The glass in -the street lamps rattled lightly. - -"Half an hour more," he said to himself, "then I can go home. I could -almost wish--that that half-hour were over." He stood for a moment -on the corner, where he could command a view of both streets. "She'll -surely come to-day," his thoughts ran on, while he struggled with his -hat, which threatened to blow away. "It's Friday.... Faculty meeting -at the University; she needn't hurry home." He heard the clanging of -street-car gongs, and the hour chimed from a nearby church tower. The -street became more animated. Hurrying figures passed him, clerks of -neighboring shops; they hastened onward, fighting against the storm. -No one noticed him; a couple of half-grown girls glanced up in idle -curiosity as they went by. Suddenly he saw a familiar figure coming -toward him. He hastened to meet her.... Could it be she? On foot? - -She saw him, and quickened her pace. - -"You are walking?" he asked. - -"I dismissed the cab in front of the theatre. I think I've had that -driver before." - -A man passed them, turning to look at the lady. Her companion glared at -him, and the other passed on hurriedly. The lady looked after him. "Who -was it?" she asked, anxiously. - -"Don't know him. We'll see no one we know here, don't worry. But come -now, let's get into the cab." - -"Is that your carriage?" - -"Yes." - -"An open one?" - -"It was warm and pleasant when I engaged it an hour ago." - -They walked to the carriage; the lady stepped in. - -"Driver!" called the man. - -"Why, where is he?" asked the lady. - -Franz looked around. "Well, did you ever? I don't see him anywhere." - -"Oh--" her tone was low and timid. - -"Wait a moment, child, he must be around here somewhere." - -The young man opened the door of a little saloon, and discovered his -driver at a table with several others. The man rose hastily. "In a -minute, sir," he explained, swallowing his glass of wine. - -"What do you mean by this?" - -"All right, sir... Be there in a minute." His step was a little unsteady -as he hastened to his horses. "Where'll you go, sir?" - -"Prater--Summer-house." - -Franz entered the carriage. His companion sat back in a corner, -crouching fearsomely under the shadow of the cover. - -He took both her hands in his. She sat silent. "Won't you say good -evening to me?" - -"Give me a moment to rest, dear. I'm still out of breath." - -He leaned back in his corner. Neither spoke for some minutes. The -carriage turned into the Prater Street, passed the Tegethoff Monument, -and a few minutes later was rolling swiftly through the broad, dark -Prater Avenue. - -Emma turned suddenly and flung both arms around her lover's neck. He -lifted the veil that still hung about her face, and kissed her. - -"I have you again--at last!" she exclaimed. - -"Do you know how long it is since we have seen each other?" he asked. - -"Since Sunday." - -"Yes, and that wasn't good for much." - -"Why not? You were in our house." - -"Yes--in your house. That's just it. This can't go on. I shall not enter -your house again.... What's the matter?" - -"A carriage passed us." - -"Dear girl, the people who are driving in the Prater at such an hour, -and in such weather, aren't noticing much what other people are doing." - -"Yes--that's so. But some one might look in here, by chance." - -"We couldn't be recognized. It's too dark." - -"Yes--but can't we drive somewhere else?" - -"Just as you like." He called to the driver, who did not seem to hear. -Franz leaned forward and touched the man. - -"Turn around again. What are you whipping your horses like that for? -We're in no hurry, I tell you. Drive--let me see--yes--drive down the -avenue that leads to the Reichs Bridge." - -"The Reichsstrasse?" - -"Yes. But don't hurry so, there's no need of it." - -"All right, sir. But it's the wind that makes the horses so crazy." - -Franz sat back again as the carriage turned in the other direction. - -"Why didn't I see you yesterday?" - -"How could I?"... - -"You were invited to my sister's." - -"Oh--yes." - -"Why weren't you there?" - -"Because I can't be with you--like that--with others around. No, I just -can't." She shivered. "Where are we now?" she asked, after a moment. - -They were passing under the railroad bridge at the entrance to the -Reichsstrasse. - -"On the way to the Danube," replied Franz. "We're driving toward the -Reichs Bridge. We'll certainly not meet any of our friends here," he -added, with a touch of mockery. - -"The carriage jolts dreadfully." - -"We're on cobblestones again." - -"But he drives so crooked." - -"Oh, you only think so." - -He had begun to notice himself that the vehicle was swaying to and -fro more than was necessary, even on the rough pavement. But he said -nothing, not wishing to alarm her. - -"There's a great deal I want to say to you today, Emma." - -"You had better begin then; I must be home at nine o'clock." - -"A few words may decide everything." - -"Oh, goodness, what was that!" she screamed. The wheels had caught in a -car-track, and the carriage turned partly over as the driver attempted -to free it. Franz caught at the man's coat. "Stop that!" he cried. "Why, -you're drunk, man!" - -The driver halted his horses with some difficulty. "Oh, no--sir--" - -"Let's get out here, Emma, and walk." - -"Where are we?" - -"Here's the bridge already. And the wind is not nearly as strong as -it was. It will be nicer to walk a little. It's so hard to talk in the -carriage." - -Emma drew down her veil and followed him. "Don't you call this windy?" -she exclaimed as she struggled against the gust that met her at the -corner. - -He took her arm, and called to the driver to follow them. - -They walked on slowly. Neither spoke as they mounted the ascent of the -bridge; and they halted where they could hear the flow of the water -below them. Heavy darkness surrounded them. The broad stream stretched -itself out in gray, indefinite outlines; red lights in the distance, -floating above the water, awoke answering gleams from its surface. -Trembling stripes of light reached down from the shore they had just -left; on the other side of the bridge the river lost itself in the -blackness of open fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance; they looked -over to where the red lights soared. A train with lighted windows rolled -between iron arches that seemed to spring up out of the night for an -instant, to sink back into darkness again. The thunder grew fainter and -more distant; silence fell again; only the wind moved, in sudden gusts. - -Franz spoke at last, after a long silence. "We must go away." - -"Of course," Emma answered, softly. - -"We must go away," he continued, with more animation. "Go away -altogether, I mean--" - -"Oh, we can't!" - -"Only because we are cowards, Emma." - -"And my child?" - -"He will let you have the boy, I know." - -"But how shall we go?" Her voice was very low. "You mean--to run away--" - -"Not at all. You have only to be honest with him; to tell him that you -cannot live with him any longer; that you belong to me." - -"Franz--are you mad?" - -"I will spare you that trial, if you wish. I will tell him myself." - -"No, Franz, you will do nothing of the kind." - -He endeavored to read her face. But the darkness showed him only that -her head was turned toward him. - -He was silent a few moments more. Then he spoke quietly: "You need not -fear; I shall not do it." - -They walked toward the farther shore. "Don't you hear a noise?" she -asked. "What is it?" - -"Something is coming from the other side," he said. - -A slow rumbling came out of the darkness. A little red light gleamed out -at them. They could see that it hung from the axle of a clumsy country -cart, but they could not see whether the cart was laden or not and -whether there were human beings on it. Two other carts followed the -first. They could just see the outlines of a man in peasant garb on the -last cart, and could see that he was lighting his pipe. The carts passed -them slowly. Soon there was nothing to be heard but the low rolling -of the wheels as their own carriage followed them. The bridge dropped -gently to the farther shore. They saw the street disappear into -blackness between rows of trees. Open fields lay before them to the -right and to the left; they gazed out into gloom indistinguishable. - -There was another long silence before Franz spoke again. "Then it is the -last time--" - -"What?--" Emma's tone was anxious. - -"The last time we are to be together. Stay with him, if you will. I bid -you farewell." - -"Are you serious?" - -"Absolutely." - -"There, now you see, it is you who always spoil the few hours we have -together?--not I." - -"Yes, you're right," said Franz. "Let's drive back to town." - -She held his arm closer. "No," she insisted, tenderly, "I don't want to -go back. I won't be sent away from you." - -She drew his head down to hers, and kissed him tenderly. "Where would we -get to if we drove on down there?" she asked. - -"That's the road to Prague, dear." - -"We won't go quite that far," she smiled, "but I'd like to drive on a -little, down there." She pointed into the darkness. - -Franz called to the driver. There was no answer; the carriage rumbled -on, slowly. Franz ran after it, and saw that the driver was fast asleep. -Franz roused him roughly. "We want to drive on down that street. Do you -hear me?" - -"All right, sir." - -Emma entered the carriage first, then Franz. The driver whipped his -horses, and they galloped madly over the moist earth of the road-bed. -The couple inside the cab held each other closely as they swayed with -the motion of the vehicle. - -"Isn't this quite nice?" whispered Emma, her lips on his. - -In the moment of her words she seemed to feel the cab mounting into the -air. She felt herself thrown over violently, readied for some hold, but -grasped only the empty air. She seemed to be spinning madly like a top, -her eyes closed, suddenly she found herself lying on the ground, a great -silence about her, as if she were alone, far away from all the world. -Then noises began to come into her consciousness again; hoofs beat the -ground near her; a low moaning came from somewhere; but she could -see nothing. Terror seized her; she screamed aloud. Her terror grew -stronger, for she could not hear her own voice. Suddenly she knew what -had happened; the carriage had hit some object, possibly a mile-stone; -had upset, and she had been thrown out. Where is Franz? was her next -thought. She called his name. And now she could hear her voice, not -distinctly yet, but she could hear it. There was no answer to her call. -She tried to get up. After some effort she rose to a sitting, posture, -and, reaching out, she felt something, a human body, on the ground -beside her. She could now begin to see a little through the dimness. -Franz lay beside her, motionless. She put out her hand and touched -his face; something warm and wet covered it. Her heart seemed to -stop beating--Blood?--Oh, what had happened? Franz was wounded and -unconscious. Where was the coachman? She called him, but no answer -came. She still sat there on the ground. She did not seem to be injured, -although she ached all over. "What shall I do?" she thought; "what shall -I do? How can it be that I am not injured? Franz!" she called again. A -voice answered from somewhere near her. - -"Where are you, lady? And where is the gentleman? Wait a minute, -Miss--I'll light the lamps, so we can see. I don't know what's got into -the beasts to-day. It ain't my fault, Miss, sure--they ran into a pile -of stones." - -Emma managed to stand up, although she was bruised all over. The fact -that the coachman seemed quite uninjured reassured her somewhat. -She heard the man opening the lamp and striking a match. She waited -anxiously for the light. She did not dare to touch Franz again. "It's -all so much worse when you can't see plainly," she thought. "His eyes -may be open now--there won't be anything wrong...." - -A tiny ray of light came from one side. She saw the carriage, not -completely upset, as she had thought, but leaning over toward the -ground, as if one wheel were broken. The horses stood quietly. She saw -the milestone, then a heap of loose stones, and beyond them a ditch. -Then the light touched Franz's feet, crept up over his body to his face, -and rested there. The coachman had set the lamp on the ground beside the -head of the unconscious man. Emma dropped to her knees, and her heart -seemed to stop beating as she looked into the face before her. It was -ghastly white; the eyes were half open, only the white showing. A thin -stream of blood trickled down from one temple and ran into his collar. -The teeth were fastened into the under lip. "No--no--it isn't possible," -Emma spoke, as if to herself. - -The driver knelt also and examined the face of the man. Then he took -the head in both his hands and raised it. "What are you doing?" screamed -Emma, hoarsely, shrinking back at the sight of the head that seemed to -be rising of its own volition. - -"Please, Miss--I'm afraid--I'm thinking--there's a great misfortune -happened--" - -"No--no--it's not true!" said Emma. "It can't be true!--You are not -hurt? Nor am I--" - -The man let the head he held fall back again into the lap of the -trembling Emma. "If only some one would come--if the peasants had only -passed fifteen minutes later." - -"What shall we do?" asked Emma, her lips trembling. - -"Why, you see, Miss, if the carriage was all right--but it's no good as -it is--we've got to wait till some one comes--" he talked on, but Emma -did not hear him. Her brain seemed to awake suddenly, and she knew what -was to be done. "How far is it to the nearest house?" she asked. - -"Not much further, Miss--there's Franz-Josef's land right there. We'd see -the houses if it was lighter--it won't take five minutes to get there." - -"Go there, then; I'll stay here--Go and fetch some one." - -"I think I'd better stay here with you, Miss. Somebody must come; it's -the main road." - -"It'll be too late; we need a doctor at once." - -The coachman looked down at the quiet face, then he looked at Emma, and -shook his head. - -"You can't tell," she cried. - -"Yes, Miss--but there'll be no doctor in those houses." - -"But there'll be somebody to send to the city--" - -"Oh, yes, Miss--they'll be having a telephone there, anyway! We'll -telephone to the Rescue Society." - -"Yes, yes, that's it. Go at once, run--and bring some men back with you. -Why do you wait? Go at once. Hurry!" - -The man looked down again at the white face in her lap. "There'll be no -use here for doctor or Rescue Society, Miss." - -"Oh, go!--for God's sake go!" - -"I'm going, Miss--but don't get afraid in the darkness here." - -He hurried down the street. "'Twasn't my fault," he murmured as he ran. -"Such an idea! to drive down this road this time o' night." - -Emma was left alone with the unconscious man in the gloomy street. - -"What shall I do now?" she thought "It can't be possible--it can't." The -thought circled dizzily in her brain--"It can't be possible." Suddenly -she seemed to hear a low breathing. She bent to the pale lips--no--not -the faintest breath came from them. The blood had dried on temple and -cheek. She gazed at the eyes, the half-closed eyes, and shuddered. Why -couldn't she believe it?... It must be true--this was Death! A shiver -ran through her--she felt but one thing--"This is a corpse. I am here -alone with a corpse!--a corpse that rests on my lap!" With trembling -hands she pushed the head away, until it rested on the ground. Then -a feeling of horrible alone-ness came over her. Why had she sent the -coachman away? What should she do here all alone with this dead man in -the darkness? If only some one would come--but what was she to do then -if anybody did come? How long would she have to wait here? She looked -down at the corpse again. "But I'm not alone with him," she thought, -"the light is there." And the light seemed to her to become alive, -something sweet and friendly, to which she owed gratitude. There was -more life in this little flame than in all the wide night about her. It -seemed almost as if this light was a protection for her, a protection -against the terrible pale man who lay on the ground beside her. She -stared into the light until her eyes wavered and the flame began to -dance. Suddenly she felt herself awake--wide awake. She sprang to her -feet. Oh, this would not do! It would not do at all--no one must find -her here with him. She seemed to be outside of herself, looking at -herself standing there on the road, the corpse and the light below her; -she saw herself grow into strange, enormous proportions, high up into -the darkness. "What am I waiting for?" she asked herself, and her brain -reeled. "What am I waiting for? The people who might come? They don't -need me. They will come, and they will ask questions--and I--why am I -here? They will ask who I am--what shall I answer? I will not answer -them--I will not say a word--they cannot compel me to talk." - -The sound of voices came from the distance. - -"Already?" she thought, listening in terror. The voices came from the -bridge. It could not be the men the driver was bringing with him. But -whoever it was would see the light--and they must not see it, for then -she would be discovered. She overturned the lantern with her foot, -and the light went out. She stood in utter darkness. She could see -nothing--not even him. The pile of % stones shone dimly. The voices came -nearer. She trembled from head to foot; they must not find her here. -That was the only thing of real importance in all the wide world--that -no one should find her here. She would be lost if they knew that -this--this corpse--was her lover. She clasps her hands convulsively, -praying that the people, whoever they were, might pass by on the farther -side of the road, and not see her. She listens breathless. Yes, they are -there, on the other side--women, two women, or perhaps three. What are -they talking about? They have seen the carriage, they speak of it--she -can distinguish words. "A carriage upset--" What else do they -say? She cannot understand--they walk on--they have passed -her--Ah--thanks--thanks to Heaven!--And now? What now? Oh, why isn't -she dead, as he is? He is to be envied; there is no more danger, no more -fear for him. But so much--so much for her to tremble for. She shivers -at the thought of being found here, of being asked, "Who are you?" She -will have to go to the police station, and all the world will know about -it--her husband--her child. She cannot understand why she has stood -there motionless so long. She need not stay here--she can do no good -here--and she is only courting disaster for herself. She makes a step -forward--Careful! the ditch is here--she crosses it--how wet it is--two -paces more and she is in the middle of the street. She halts a moment, -looks straight ahead, and can finally distinguish the gray line of the -road leading onward into darkness. There--over there--lies the city. She -cannot see it, but she knows the way. She turns once more. It does -not seem so dark now. She can see the carriage and the horses quite -distinctly--and, looking hard, she seems to see the outline of a human -body on the ground. Her eyes open wide. Something seems to clutch at her -and hold her here--it is he--she feels his power to keep her with him. -With an effort she frees herself. Then she perceives that -it was the soft mud of the road that held her. And she walks -onward--faster--faster--her pace quickens to a run. Only to be away from -here, to be back in the light--in the noise--among men. She runs along -the street, raising her skirt high, that her steps may not be hindered. -The wind is behind her, and seems to push her along. She does not know -what it is she flees from. Is it the pale man back there by the ditch? -No, now she knows, she flees the living, not the dead, the living, who -will soon be there, and who will look for her. What will they think? -Will they follow her? But they cannot catch up with her now, she is so -far away, she is nearing the bridge, there is danger. No one can know -who she was, no one can possibly imagine who the woman was who drove -down through the country road with the dead man. The driver does not -know her; he would not recognize her if he should ever see her again. -They will not take the trouble to find out who she is. Who cares? It was -wise of her not to stay--and it was not cowardly either. Franz himself -would say it was wise. She must go home; she has a husband, a child; she -would be lost if any one should see her there with her dead lover. There -is the bridge; the street seems lighter--she hears the water beneath -her. She stands there, where they stood together, arm in arm--when was -it? How many hours ago? It cannot be long since then. And yet--perhaps -she lay unconscious long, and it is midnight now, or near morning, and -they have missed her at home. Oh, no--it is not possible. She knows -that she was not unconscious, she remembers everything clearly. She runs -across the bridge, shivering at the sound of her own steps. Now she sees -a figure coming toward her; she slows her pace. It is a man in uniform. -She walks more slowly, she does not want to attract attention. She feels -the man's eyes resting on her--suppose he stops her! Now he is quite -near; it is a policeman. She walks calmly past him, and hears him stop -behind her. With an effort she continues in the same slow pace. She -hears the jingle of street-car bells--ah, it cannot be midnight yet. She -walks more quickly--hurrying toward the city, the lights of which begin -there by the railroad viaduct--the growing noise tells her how near she -is. One lonely stretch of street, and then she is safe. Now she hears -a shrill whistle coming rapidly nearer--a wagon flies swiftly past her. -She stops and looks after it; it is the ambulance of the Rescue Society. -She knows where it is going. "How quickly they have come," she thinks; -"it is like magic." For a moment she feels that she must call to them, -must go back with them. Shame, terrible, overwhelming shame, such las -she has never known before, shakes her from head to foot--she knows how -vile, how cowardly she is. Then, as the whistle and the rumble of -wheels fade away in the distance, a mad joy takes hold of her. She is -saved--saved! She hurries on; she meets more people, but she does not -fear them--the worst is over. The noise of the city grows louder, the -street is lighter, the skyline of the Prater street rises before her, -and she knows that she can sink into a flood tide of humanity there and -lose herself in it. When she comes to a street lamp she is quite calm -enough now to take out her watch and look at it. It is ten minutes to -nine. She holds the watch to her ear--it is ticking merrily. And she -thinks: "Here I am, alive, unharmed--and he--he--dead. It is Fate." She -feels as if all had been forgiven--as if she had never sinned. And what -if Fate had willed otherwise? If it were she lying there in the ditch, -and he who remained alive? He would not have run away--but then he is -a man. She is only a woman, she has a husband, a child--it was her -right--her duty--to save herself. She knows that it was not a sense of -duty that impelled her to do it. But what she has done was right--she -had done right instinctively--as all good people do. If she had stayed -she would have been discovered by this time. The doctors would question -her. And all the papers would report it next morning; she would have -been ruined forever, and yet her ruin could not bring him back to life. -Yes, that was the main point, her sacrifice would have been all in -vain. She crosses under the railway bridge and hurries on. There is the -Tegethoff Column, where so many streets meet. There are but few people -in the park on this stormy evening, but to her it seems as if the life -of the city was roaring about her. It was so horribly still back there. -She had plenty of time now. She knows that her husband will not be home -before ten o'clock. She will have time to change her clothes. And then -it occurs to her to look at her gown. She is horrified to see how soiled -it is. What shall she say to the maid about it? And next morning the -papers will all bring the story of the accident, and they will tell of a -woman. Who had been in the carriage, and who had run away. She trembled -afresh. One single carelessness and she is lost, even now. But she has -her latch-key with her; she can let herself in; no one will hear her -come. She jumps into a cab and is about to give her address, then -suddenly she remembers that this would not be wise. She gives any number -that occurs to her. - -As she drives through the Prater street she wishes that she might feel -something--grief-horror--but she cannot. She has but one thought, one -desire--to be at home, in safety. All else is indifferent to her. When -she had decided to leave him alone, dead, by the roadside--in that -moment everything seemed to have died within her, everything that -would mourn and grieve for him. She has no feeling but that of fear for -herself. She is not heartless--she knows that the day will come when her -sorrow will be despair--it may kill her even. But she knows nothing now, -except the desire to sit quietly at home, at the supper table with her -husband and child. She looks out through the cab window. She is driving -through the streets of the inner city. It is brilliantly light here, -and many people hurry past. Suddenly all that she has experienced in -the last few hours seems not to be true, it is like an evil dream; -not something real, irreparable. She stops her cab in one of the side -streets of the Ring, gets out, turns a corner quickly, and takes another -carriage, giving her own address this time. She does not seem able to -think of anything any more. "Where is he now?" She closes her eyes and -sees him on the litter, in the ambulance. Suddenly she feels that he is -here beside her. The cab sways, she feels the terror of being thrown out -again, and she screams aloud. The cab halts before the door of her home. -She dismounts hastily, hurries with light steps through the house door, -unseen by the concierge, runs up the stairs, opens her apartment door -very gently, aind slips unseen into her own room. She undresses hastily, -hiding the mud-stained clothes in her cupboard. To-morrow, when they are -dry, she can clean them herself. She washes hands and face, and slips -into a loose housegown. - -The bell rings. She hears the maid open the door, she hears her -husband's voice, and the rattle of his cane on the hat-stand. She feels -she must be brave now or it will all have been in vain. She hurries to -the dining-room, entering one door as her husband comes in at the other. - -"Ah, you're home already?" he asks. - -"Why, yes," she replies, "I have been home some time." - -"They evidently didn't hear you come in." - -She smiles without effort. But it fatigues her horribly to have to -smile. He kisses her forehead. - -The little boy is already at his place by the table. He has been waiting -some time, and has fallen asleep, his head resting on an open book. - -She sits down beside him; her husband takes his chair opposite, takes -up a paper, and glances carelessly at it. Then he says: "The others are -still talking away there." - -"What about?" she asks. - -And he begins to tell her about the meeting, at length. Emma pretends to -listen, and nods now and then. But she does not hear what he is saying, -she feels dazed, like one who has escaped terrible danger as by a -miracle; she can feel only this: "I am safe; I am at home." And while -her husband is talking she pulls her chair nearer the boy's and lifts -his head to her shoulder. Fatigue inexpressible comes over her. She can -no longer control herself; she feels that her eyes are closing, that she -is dropping asleep. - -Suddenly another possibility presents itself to her mind, a possibility -that she had dismissed the moment she turned to leave the ditch where -she had fallen. Suppose he were not dead! Suppose--oh, but it is -impossible--his eyes--his--lips--not a breath came from them! But there -are trances that are like death, which deceive even practised eyes, and -she knows nothing about such things. Suppose he is still alive--suppose -he has regained consciousness and found himself alone by the -roadside--suppose he calls her by her name? He might think she had been -injured; he might tell the doctors that there was a woman with him, and -that she must have been thrown to some distance. They will look for her. -The coachman will come back with the men he has brought, and will tell -them that she was there, unhurt--and Franz will know the truth. Franz -knows her so well--he will know that she has run away--and a great anger -will come over him. He will tell them her name in revenge. For he is -mortally injured, and it will hurt him cruelly that she has left him -alone in his last hour. He will say: "That is Mrs. Emma ------. I am her -lover. She is cowardly and stupid, too, gentlemen, for she might have -known you would not ask her name; you would be discreet; you would have -let her go away unmolested. Oh, she might at least have waited until you -came. But she is vile--utterly vile--ah!--" - -"What is the matter?" asks the Professor, very gravely, rising from his -chair. - -"What? What?" - -"Yes, what is the matter with you?" - -"Nothing." She presses the boy closer to her breast. - -The Professor looks at her for a few minutes steadily. - -"Didn't you know that you had fallen asleep, and--" - -"Well?-- And--" - -"And then you screamed out in your sleep." - -"Did I?" - -"You screamed as if you were having a nightmare. Were you dreaming?" - -"I don't know--" - -And she sees her face in a mirror opposite, a face tortured into a -ghastly smile. She knows it is her own face, and it terrifies her. She -sees that it is frozen; that this hideous smile is frozen on it, and -will always be there, all her life. She tries to cry out. Two hands are -laid on her shoulders, and between her own face and the mirrored one her -husband's face pushes its way in; his eyes pierce into hers. She knows -that unless she is strong for this last trial all is lost. And she -feels that she is strong; she has regained control of her limbs, but the -moment of strength is short. She raises her hands to his, which rest -on her shoulders; she draws him down to her, and smiles naturally and -tenderly into his eyes. - -She feels his lips on her forehead, and she thinks: "It is all a -dream--he will never tell--he will never take revenge like that--he is -dead--really dead--and the dead are silent--" - -"Why did you say that?" she hears her husband's voice suddenly. - -She starts. "What did I say?" And it seems to her as if she had told -everything, here at the table--aloud before every one--and again she -asks, shuddering before his horrified eyes, "What did I say?" - -"The dead are silent," her husband repeats very slowly. - -"Yes," she answers. - -And she reads in his eyes that she can no longer hide anything from him. -They look long and silently at each other. "Put the boy to bed," he says -at last. "You have something to tell me, have you not?" - -"Yes--" - -She knows now that within a few moments she will tell this man -everything--this man, whom she has deceived for many years. - -And while she goes slowly through the door, holding her boy, she feels -her husband's eyes still resting on her, and a great peace comes over -her, the assurance that now many things would be right again. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Dead Are Silent, by Arthur Schnitzler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEAD ARE SILENT *** - -***** This file should be named 23061.txt or 23061.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/6/23061/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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