Homo Sapiens: Overboard by Stanislaw Przybyszewski and translated by Joe E Bandel
XIII.
Falk had to wait another half hour. The stupid clock was always fast.
His head was heavy, the morphine lingered paralyzing in his limbs. On top of that, he had a fever, his heart raced, and now and then he had to lean forward, feeling sharp stabs in his chest. He looked around.
At the counter, two railway officials were playing cards with the waiter.
He wanted a beer, but he probably shouldn’t disturb the waiter. Then he looked at the large glass door and read several times: Waiting Room. Yes, he had to wait.
He looked back at the counter.
Strange that he hadn’t noticed the fourth man earlier.
The man had a black mustache and a bloated face. He watched the game for a while, then planted himself in front of the mirror, admiring himself smugly.
Yes, of course; you’re very handsome—very handsome…
Did he have a lover too? Surely… he must appeal to women’s tastes. If Mikita… well, yes…
Pity, pity that he had to disturb the waiter after all… He knocked. “Excuse me, waiter, but I’m thirsty!”
The waiter took it as a reprimand and apologized profusely.
No, no, he didn’t mean it like that, Falk treated the waiter with the utmost courtesy.
Now he had to go. And it was so nice there—in the waiting room.
When he stepped into the train compartment, he felt an unusual sense of happiness.
The compartment was empty.
What luck! He couldn’t sit with anyone now. That would disturb him unbearably. He wouldn’t be able to think a single thought.
He looked at his watch. Five more minutes.
He pressed his head against the compartment window. Outside, the light of a gas lamp captivated him.
The light looked like a pointed triangle with the base upward: it was very flared, so the edges flickered like darting arrows.
That’s exactly how the tongues of fire must have looked, descending on the apostles’ heads.
He snapped awake.
That he saw all this. Holz would’ve made at least a drama out of it.
Pity he didn’t have a notebook! Pity, pity! He really should work with a notebook to uncover the soul.
The train started moving.
What? How? He was supposed to leave her? Her? No, impossible!
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and a horrific fear rose within him.
From her!?
Something urged him to open the door and run out to her—fall before her, clutch her knees, and tell her he couldn’t live without her, that she must belong to him—that—that… It choked him. He grabbed his head and groaned loudly.
He heard the train racing relentlessly, ceaselessly, nothing, nothing could stop it.
Yes, but! Another train would have to come from the other side, and both would crash, their engines locking together, the cars piling up to the sky…
The air was so bad in this wretched cage—just like in the café.
He tore the window open.
In an instant, the compartment filled with unpleasant, wet cold. He calmed down and closed the window.
One thing became clear: he couldn’t leave, he mustn’t: his mind would fall apart—yes, what had he said to Isa? His soul would crumble… yes, crumble into tiny pieces, just like Grabbe’s God—I crumbled into pieces, and each piece a God, a redeemer, a new Rabbi Jeshua, sacrificing himself for others…
I don’t want to sacrifice myself, I want to be happy, he screamed. Suddenly, he caught himself.
What was wrong with him? Why this whole unconscious frenzy? Was he right? Was love just a disease, a fever to expel rotting matter—a recovery process—nonsense—a—a—Good God! How the train raced.
He stretched out fully. The compartment began to shake unbearably. Yes, something sank beneath him, he walked as if on a linen sheet. He was bold. He wanted to show the village boys that he, the landlord’s son, was bolder than all of them together. They were cowards. Now he’d show them. And he walked on the lake, frozen over for just a day, walked, the ice cracking all around, he walked on the ice like on a boggy floor, and then suddenly…
Falk pulled himself up and lay down again.
And again, he felt the sinking and sinking, instinctively stretching out his hands to hold on.
No! He couldn’t leave her. She must… He’d force her… He’d force her… She loves him, she’s just cowardly, like all women… She longs for him, he knew it for certain.
Oh God, God, if only the train would stop.
And he paced back and forth in the wretched cage, his pulse racing, a horrific unrest unraveling his conscious thought. He kept catching himself with thoughts and feelings crawling up, God knows from where, tormenting him.
What did Mikita want from her? She was his, wholly his… Did Mikita want to violate her soul?
Suddenly, he noticed the train slowing; a joyful thrill ran down his spine: Finally! Finally!
Then he saw they passed a station without stopping, and he realized the train was speeding up again as before.
Now he could have wept aloud! What would that do? He had to wait, be patient…
He sank into dull resignation.
He wasn’t a child, he had to wait, he had to learn to control himself.
He sat by the window and tried to see something. But the night was so black—so deep, oh so deep, deeper than the day ever thought… And the abysses within him were so deep…
He closed his eyes.
Then he suddenly saw a clearing in his father’s forest.
He saw two elks fighting. He saw the animals striking each other with their massive antlers, retreating to charge with a terrifying leap. Then he saw their antlers lock together, how they tried to break free with wild jerks, spinning in circles… Suddenly: a jolt, he thought he heard the antlers crack: one elk broke free and drove its great antlers into the other’s flank. It gored him. It burrowed the antlers deeper and deeper, boring and boring, blood foaming out, tearing the flesh apart, ravaging the entrails with greedy fury.
Horrible! Horrible! Falk cried out.
Beside them stood the female they fought for, grazing. She paid no attention to the wild battle of the rutting males.
Falk tried to distract his mind, but in his eyes, he saw fiery rings expanding into glowing giant circles, wider and wider—hardly could he grasp their expanse, and in the center, he saw the victor, bleeding, trembling, but proud and mighty. On his antlers, he shook his rival’s entrails. But then he saw the victorious elk begin to spin, faster and faster, circling around itself, faster still… a fiery vortex seized him and dragged him along—like a fallen planet, Falk saw him fall—where to? Where to?
The vortex—the vortex… yes, God, where had he heard that, about the vortex that sucks in, that pulls down…
And again, everything went black before his eyes.
He saw Mikita before him. He rushed at him. He grabbed him and dragged him through the corridor, and then they crashed down. The railing broke. And they, a tangled heap, plummeted with terrible force onto the stone tiles of a black abyss…
Falk looked around, uncomprehending. He clearly heard someone enter the compartment.
He suddenly recognized the conductor. A surge of joy filled him. “Where? Where’s the next station?”
“In two minutes, we’re there.” He came fully to his senses.
A bustling unrest seized him. He looked at his watch. Only three hours had he traveled, so he’d be back in three hours—and then to Isa—to Isa…
The train stopped. Falk got off. “When does the train go back?”
“Tomorrow at 10 a.m.”
Falk’s knees buckled. He collapsed completely.
Stern’s Hotel. Hotel de l’Europe, Hotel du Nord! he heard shouted around him.
He gave his suitcase to someone and let himself be driven.
When he woke late the next day at noon, he found himself in a hotel room.
Hmm; quite comfortable for a hotel room. His limbs ached, but he clearly felt he’d overcome an illness.
Yes, because he was so nervous, and his nervousness was his health. The esteemed doctors would figure that out eventually…
Then he got out of bed and rang.
When the waiter came, he asked where he was, ordered coffee… strange: he hadn’t gone mad after all.
He felt a vast, solemn calm within him.
So I’ll stay here. Well, it’s quite nice here.
He had writing paper brought and wrote a letter to his mother, explaining why he couldn’t come, how she should handle the trustees, and that he’d likely spend the whole summer abroad…
He reread his mother’s letter to see if she needed any further information. His eyes fell involuntarily on the name Marit.
Yes, and so, in closing, he sent heartfelt greetings to the angel of kindness and charm.
When he finished the letter, he drank coffee and went back to sleep.
He fell asleep immediately.
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