Anarchistbanjo's World

Alraune by Hanns Heinz Ewers and translated by Joe E Bandel

He interrupted her, “It doesn’t matter where you live, come with
me.”
In the meantime back in the café the Privy Councilor offered the
women something to drink. They wanted sherry brandy and asked if
he could possibly pay their other tab, two beers, pancakes and a cup
of coffee. The Privy Councilor paid, then tried his luck. He had a
proposal to make and they might be interested he said. But only one
of them could accept his very profitable offer and they would have to
throw dice to see who got it.
Thin Jenny laid her arm on his shoulder. “We better roll those
dice quick old man, that’s for sure! The ladies and I–we want to know
what an old goat like you can teach us in bed that we don’t already
know!”
Elly, a petite doll headed blonde seconded her.
“What my friend means is don’t waste our time. Bring on the
money!”
She sprang up and got some dice. “Now children, let’s find out
who gets to accept the old man’s proposal.”
But fat Anna, the one they called “The Hen”, protested.
“I always lose at dice,” she said. “Won’t you pay some
consolation money, uncle, for the ones that don’t win?”
“Certainly,” said the Privy Councilor. “Five marks for each of
you.”
He laid three fat pieces of silver on the table.
“You are swell!” Jenny praised him and confirmed it by ordering
another round of Sherry-Brandy. She was also the winner. She took
the three pieces of money and handed them to the others.
“There, you have your consolation money. Now open up you old
rascal and tell me all of the shameful things that you want me to do. I
am prepared.”
“Then listen dear child,” began the Privy Councilor. “It concerns
some very unusual things–”
“You are a man, aren’t you?” the prostitute interrupted him. “I’m
not a virgin anymore and haven’t been one for a long time. Our dear
God has some strange beasts running around in his zoo and I’ve
picked up a few things along the way. It will be hard to show me
something new.”
“But you don’t understand me at all, dear Jenny,” said the
Professor. “I demand nothing like that of you at all. I want you to take
part in a scientific experiment.”
“I knew it,” Jenny blurted out. “I knew it–You are a Doctor
aren’t you old man?–I had a Doctor once that always began with
scientific experiments–He was the greatest pig of them all!–Now
Prosit, uncle. That’s fine with me. I will fulfill all of your delightful
fantasies.”
The Privy Councilor toasted and drank to her.
“We shall see soon enough how free from prejudice you really
are–To make it short, this concerns an experiment with artificial
insemination.”
“A what?” the girl started. “Artificial–insemination? What’s the
need for that?–The common way seems to work well enough!”
The dark haired Clara grinned.
“I think it would be better to have an experiment to prevent
pregnancy.”
Dr. Petersen came to his master’s aid.
“Will you permit me to try and explain to them?”
When the Privy Councilor nodded he gave a little lecture about
the basic concept, the results that had been obtained so far and the
possibilities for the future. He stressed sharply that the procedure was
completely painless and that all the animals they had worked with up
to now had remained completely healthy.
“What kind of animals?” Jenny asked.
The assistant doctor answered, “Up until now only rats, monkeys
and guinea-pigs – ”
That set her off, “Guinea-pigs!–I might be a pig–I’ve been called
an old sow! But no one has ever called me a Guinea pig! And you,
you fat headed old hedgehog, want me to allow you to treat me like a
Guinea pig?–Never, do you understand! That is something Jenny
Lehman will not do!”
The Privy Councilor tried to calm her down, gave her another
schnapps.
“You don’t understand dear child–” he began.
But she wouldn’t let him finish.
“I understand well enough,” she said. “I should give myself up to
some greasy beast–or be inoculated with some filthy serum–or germ–I
might even end up on your vivisection table.”
She was getting into it now, becoming overcome with anger and
passion.
“Or I should bring some monster into this world that you can
show at the circus! A child with two heads and a rat’s tail or one that
looks half Guinea pig–I know where they abort such monstrous
things–and you want to breed them. I should give myself up for that?
Let you artificially inseminate me?–Look out old pig–here is what I
think of your artificial insemination.”
She sprang up, bent over the table and spit into the Privy
Councilor’s face. Then she raised the little glass, quietly drank it,
turned quickly around and proudly walked away.
At the same moment Frank Braun appeared in the door and
waved for them to come outside.
“Come here Herr Doctor, come here quick!” Dr. Petersen called
out to him as he was trying to wipe the Privy Councilor clean.
“Now what’s going on?” the attorney asked as he stepped up to
the table.
The professor squinted at him. He appeared to be bitter and
angry. The three prostitutes were shouting in confusion as Dr.
Petersen explained what had happened.
“What should we do now?” he finished.
Frank Braun shrugged his shoulders, “Do? Nothing at all. Pay
and go–nothing else–By the way, I’ve found what we need.”
They went out. The red haired prostitute stood in front of the
door waving down a taxi with her parasol. Frank Braun pushed her
inside, then let the Privy Councilor and his assistant climb in. He
called out the address to the coachman and climbed in with the others.
“Permit me to make introductions,” he cried. “Miss Alma–his
Excellency Privy Councilor ten Brinken–and the good doctor Herr
Karl Petersen.”
“Are you crazy?” The professor began.
“Not at all Uncle Jakob,” said the attorney quietly. “Fräulein
Alma will learn your name anyway if she stays for a long time at your
home or your clinic whether you like it or not.”
He turned to the prostitute, “Excuse me, Fräulein Alma. My
uncle is a little old!”
He couldn’t see the Privy Councilor in the dark but he could
clearly hear how his uncle pressed his wide lips together in impotent
rage. It pleased him and he thought that his uncle would finally loose
it but he was wrong. The Privy Councilor remained calm.
“So have you already told the young lady what this is about?
Does she understand?”
Frank Braun laughed in his face. “She has no idea! I have not
spoken a word about it, have only been with Fräulein Alma scarcely a
hundred steps from across the street–I’ve scarcely spoken ten words
with her–but I have seen how she dances–”
“But Herr Doctor,” the assistant doctor interrupted him. After
what we have just experienced wouldn’t it be better to let her know?”
“Dear Petersen,” the attorney said arrogantly. “Calm down. I am
convinced that this is just the girl we need and I think that is enough.”
The coach stopped in front of a wine locale and they entered.
Frank Braun asked for a private room in the back and the waiter led
them to one. Then he looked at the wine selection and ordered two
bottles of Pommery and a bottle of cognac.
“Hurry up!” he cried.
The waiter brought the wine and left. Frank Braun closed the
door. Then he stepped up to the prostitute.
“Please Fräulein Alma, may I take your hat?”
She gave him her hat and her wild, unpinned hair cascaded down
and curled around her forehead and cheeks. Her face was clear with
just a few freckles and her green eyes shimmered. Small rows of
bright teeth shone out between thin pale lips and she was surrounded
by a consuming, almost unnatural sensuality.
“Take off your blouse,” he said.
She obeyed quietly. He loosened both buttons of her shift at the
shoulders and pulled it down to reveal two almost classically formed
breasts that were only a little too firm. Frank Braun glanced over at
his uncle.
“That will be enough,” he said. “The rest will look just as good.
Her hips certainly leave nothing more to desire.”
Then he turned back to the prostitute. “Thank you Alma. You
may get dressed again.”
The girl obeyed, took the cup that he offered and emptied it.
During that hour he made sure that her cup never stood empty for
more than a minute. Then he chatted with her. He talked about Paris,
spoke of beautiful women at the de la Galette in Moulin and at the
Elysée in Montmartre. He described exactly how they looked,
described their shoes, their hats and their dresses. Then he turned to
the prostitute.
“You know Alma, it is really a shame to see you running around
here. Please don’t think badly of me but haven’t I seen you before
somewhere else? Were you ever in the Union Bar or the Arcadia?”
No, she had never been in them or in the Amour Hall. Once she
had gone with a gentleman to the old Ballroom but when she went
back alone the next night she was turned away at the door because she
wasn’t dressed properly.
“Of course you need to be dressed properly,” Frank Braun
confirmed. “Do you think you will ever again stand all dressed up in
front of that ballroom door?”
The prostitute laughed, “It doesn’t really matter–a man is a
man!”
He paid no attention and told her fabulous stories of women that
had made their fortunes in the great ballrooms. He spoke of beautiful
pearl necklaces and large diamonds, carriages and teams of white
horses. Then suddenly he asked.
“Tell me, how long have you been running around here?”
She said quietly, “It’s been four years since I ran away from
home.”
He questioned her, pulled out of her bit by bit what he wanted to
know. He drank with her, filling her glass and pouring cognac into her
champagne without her noticing. She was almost twenty years old and
had come from Halberstadt. Her father was an honest Baker,
honorable and distinguished like her mother and like her six sisters.
She had first lain with a man a few days after her confirmation.
He was an associate of her father’s. Had she loved him? Not at all–
well only when–yes and then there was another and then another.
Both her father and her mother had beaten her but she would still run
off and stay out all night. It went on like that for a year – until one day
her parents threw her out. Then she pawned her watch and traveled to
Berlin. She had been here ever since–
Frank Braun said, “Yes, yes. That is quite a story.” Then he
continued, “But now, today is your lucky day!”
“Really,” she asked. “Why do you say that?”
Her voice rang hoarse like it was under a veil, “One day is just a
good as another to me–All I need is a man, nothing else!”
But he knew how to get her interest, “But Alma, you have to be
contented with any man that wants you! Wouldn’t you like it if it
were the other way around?–If you could have anyone that you
wanted?”
Her eyes lit up at that. “Oh yes, I would really like that!”
He laughed, “Well have you ever met anyone on the street that
you wanted and he wouldn’t give you the time of day? Wouldn’t it be
great if you could choose him instead?”
She laughed, “You, my boy. I would really like to–”
“Me as well,” he agreed. “Then and any time you wanted. But
you can only do that when you have money and that is why I said that
today is your lucky day because you can earn a lot of money today if
you want.”
“How much,” she asked.
He said, “Enough money to buy you all the dresses and jewelry
that will get you into the finest and most distinguished ballrooms.
How much?–Let’s say ten thousand–or make it twelve thousand
Marks.”
“What!” gasped the assistant doctor.
The professor, who had never even considered such a sum
snapped, “You seem to be somewhat free with other people’s
money.”
Frank Braun laughed in delight. “Do you hear that Alma, how
the Privy Councilor is beside himself over the sum that he should give
you? But I must tell you that it is not free. You will be helping him
and he should help you as well. Is fifteen thousand alright with you?”
She looked at him with enormous eyes.
“Yes, but what do I need to do for it?”
“That is the thing that is so funny,” he said. “You don’t need to
do anything right now, only wait a little bit. That’s all.”
She drank, “Wait?” She cried gaily, “I’m not very good at
waiting. But if I must for fifteen thousand Marks I will! Prosit boy!”
and she emptied her glass.
He quickly filled it up again.
“It is a splendid story,” he declared. “There is a gentleman, he is
a count–well, really a prince, a good looking fellow. You would really
like him. But unfortunately you can’t see him. They have him in
prison and he will be executed soon. The poor fellow, especially since
he is as innocent as you or I. He is just somewhat irascible and that’s
how the misfortune happened. While he was intoxicated he got into a
quarrel with his best friend and shot him. Now he must die.”
“What should I do?” She asked quickly. Her nostrils quivered.
Her interest in this curious prince was fully aroused.
“You,” he continued. “You can help him fulfil his last wish–”
“Yes,” she cried quickly. “Yes, yes!–He wants to be with a
woman one more time right? I will do it, do it gladly–and he will be
satisfied with me!”
“Well done, Alma,” said the attorney. “Well done. You are a
good girl– but things are not that simple. Pay attention so you
understand.
After he had stabbed–I mean shot his friend to death he ran to his
family. They should have protected him, hid him, helped him to
escape but they didn’t do that at all. They knew how immensely rich
he was and thought there was a good possibility that they would
inherit everything from him so they called the police instead.”
“The Devil!” Alma said with conviction.
“Yes, they did,” he continued. “It was frightfully mean of them.
So he was imprisoned and what do you think he wants now?”