Anarchistbanjo's World

Homo Sapiens: In the Maelstrom by Stanislaw Przybyszewski and translated by Joe E Bandel

Falk breathed heavily. 

“Then I heard him cry loudly: Murderer! And in this second I understood that I had committed a hideous crime… In the same moment he stepped toward me, I see his hand stretch out, in time I caught it, and pushed him back with my fist so violently that he staggered and fell. — — Since that time it has come…” 

Falk spoke almost inaudibly. 

Olga was seized by an uncanny feeling. Almost unconsciously she grabbed his both hands, held them tight, pressed and shook them and looked at him with growing fear. 

“Why, why must you be so unhappy?!” 

Falk was suddenly overcome by a feeling that he must throw himself at this woman’s feet, something forced him down with all power, he collected himself with great effort. 

“You, you…” he stammered. 

But suddenly he pulled his hands away and laughed with a short hoarse whistle. 

“Don’t look at me like that. Don’t do it! That touches me so uncannily.” He was seized by a whirl. He spoke quickly and laughed

constantly. 

“There are namely here in the city quite strange places where one can suddenly get temporary attacks of madness… Yes, there, at such a place, I believe it was in the African Cellar, I sat with a friend whom I love to madness… Ha, ha, also an overman! He abducted a painter’s wife here and ran away with her. Since then he has disappeared. I hate him, I hate him, he suddenly cried out. I must not even be with him, he hates me too, yes, now… We sat quite still then and drank. But suddenly our eyes met. Quite by chance. Yes, by chance—and they stuck to each other. I wanted to tear them loose, but it was impossible, our eyes had grown into each other. And then he suddenly begins to scream, in such an animal fear feeling that cold sweat ran over my whole body… There is something in the soul that must not be touched, otherwise the person falls apart… He, he, he… You see, the old man tore it open in my soul and since then it bleeds incessantly… The cursed old man, may the devil take him… He, he: that is something that lies beyond the brain—quite, quite beyond… The greatest, the holiest criminal on earth, Napoleon, yes Napoleon, this great holy criminal got cramps when he had the Duke of Enghien killed… I have illustrious models… I explained that very long and broad to Czerski… Have you ever heard that the Romans carried around such a holy Bacchus heart at the Saturnalia? Whoever got to see it had to die… Ha, ha, ha… the ancients knew it, they knew it very well, and they knew much more than is in your communist manifesto.” 

Suddenly he saw Olga staring at him with unspeakable fear. He became calm instantly. Then he smiled embarrassedly. 

“Yes, you probably have a little fear of me?” He sat down. “Do you perhaps have something to eat? I have eaten nothing today.” 

She got him bread and butter, but he did not touch it. He seemed to sink completely into deep brooding. 

A nameless pity seized Olga with the man she loved so boundlessly with her strong soul. His fever communicated itself to her, a wild whirl began to spin in her soul. It was as if something had sprung open in her, and the hot glow welled out unstoppably. She felt her whole body rear up and jerk in hot shiver. 

She lost her senses, a raging fury seized her, a desire tore at her for this man, she felt that she must now cry out: Here, take me then—take! 

But in the same moment she saw Falk’s eyes staring at her with a strange expression. 

“Olga, I torment you, I will go.” 

She jerked violently: the man seemed to read every thought in her soul. She became so confused that she only stared at him speechlessly. 

But Falk seemed to forget her again already. He fell into his former brooding. 

Suddenly he laughed with a strange laugh. 

“I namely also drove a friend to death; he was my wife’s fiancé, but his death does not touch me in the least. He is as indifferent to me as the Medici Venus to a cow. That probably comes from his death being necessary and having a purpose. By the way, I could kill him a second time now if he came to life again…” 

Hm… Olga, you don’t believe how morbidly brittle my psychic constitution is. Isa held me together for a long time. I namely had a feeling of love for her, so unheard-of strong that my whole soul was filled with it. But then this wonderful synthesis suddenly got a crack, a deep crack through quite strange and disgusting sensations… Well yes… He, he… Don’t you perhaps also have such little worms in your heart?… I read somewhere how a fellow says, when he appears before the almighty judge, then he will be quite astonished at the extent of the sufferings that his noble heart harbors… Ha, ha, ha… Splendidly said, splendidly… 

He was silent. 

Olga supported her head in both hands and looked at him mutely. “Do you perhaps have tea?” 

Then he saw great tears in her eyes, he saw them run silently and unstoppably over her cheeks. 

It looked terrible. The face was as if frozen in pain. Not a muscle twitched. It was for him a feeling of fright and horrible torment. He could not look at it. 

He stood up and went on tiptoe inaudibly out the door. 

A never known feeling of shame choked him. He had never felt it before. 

Only not home, only not home. He repeated it incessantly. 

He ran along the street, then around the corner and suddenly stopped: A huge glass sign in which gas burned inside: “To the Green Nightingale” he read. 

He came into a state of delighted bliss. 

Here he was with Isa on the day he met her… Just sit down for a moment and live through everything once more. 

The town hall clock began to strike. 

It was two o’clock. Then he had time enough to get home. 

He entered.