“The Fräulein!” he finally stammered.
She stared at him. “It’s you? It’s you again?”
“The Fräulein!” he repeated. “Please call her!”
She appeared not to understand fully.
“But she hasn’t come home yet!” she finally said.
“Not home?”
“No. She isn’t back yet. What do you want to see her for? Don’t you know where she is? Has something happened? What is it you want from her?”
He was no longer paying any attention to her. Marisabelle must still be upstairs! He turned and ran up. The girl stared after him. At the Dorfmeisters’ flat he rang the bell and banged on the door with his fists. He leant one hand against the door and rested his head on it briefly, before quickly bringing both hands to his face and closing his eyes, and although he was still gasping for breath, he suddenly smiled; he smiled as if in a dream, as if it were once more Marisabelle’s hands in which he had buried his face.
He heard light, hurried steps; he straightened up, and the door opened.
It was Marisabelle, woken from her sleep, her hair dishevelled, a fur coat slung over her shoulders. He stepped silently over the threshold, not taking his eyes off her, hands outstretched towards her.
She looked back at him in amazement.
“I…” he finally stammered, “I’m free! It was Montemayor.”
She shrank back.
“What?” she stuttered. “Who?”
“Montemayor! The man who killed Mortimer… It was because of his wife… He told her he jumped on the car and shot him during the ride from the station.”
She retreated a further couple of steps.
“Why are you here then?” she finally asked.
He didn’t understand. “Why am I here?” he asked, and took a breath and tried to laugh as he looked at her.
“Yes, what made you come back?”
“Where?”
“Where? Here of course!”
“Where else?” he shouted. “Where should I return other than to you!”
“Keep your voice down!” she hissed. “You’re mad! Go away!”
He didn’t understand.
“Go away!” she repeated.
“You want me to leave?”
“Yes! Immediately!”
“I don’t understand you,” he said.
“I don’t understand you either!” she shouted. “What on earth induced you to come running back here! What if someone sees you?”
He stared at her. He wanted to say something, but his lips didn’t respond.
“Did you too think,” he finally stammered, “that you wouldn’t see me again?”
“Well, at any rate not now!”
“Ah,” he stammered, “you only did it because you thought I’d be lost otherwise?”
“You’re not anymore, though, are you?” she shouted. “You say that you’ve been released!”
“Is that any reason why I should go away?”
“Someone may see you! How could you leave without waking me? How could you let me go on sleeping upstairs here? You compromised me!”
“I compromised you?”
“Of course!”
“And in the night,” he shouted, “I didn’t compromise you?”
“In the night you were on the run!”
“In other words, you only did it because you thought I’d had it?”
“Do you hold that against me?”
“I don’t, but why are you ruining everything?”
“You’re doing it yourself! You’re putting me in an impossible position!”
“That I should have thought of you before anyone else?”
“No, by coming here! What does that make me then?”
“The same what you were for me in the night!”
“So?” she shouted. “And what about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’re now free, you say! You’re no longer what you were! And besides, it’s no longer night now. What on earth did you mean by compromising me?”
“That’s the last thing I wanted to do!” he stammered.
“Yet you’re doing it now! And what’s more, first you come to me and say you’re lost, and now you come and tell me none of it is true and nothing has happened.”
“I thought,” he mumbled, “that you’d be happy for me.”
“Of course,” she said, “but nevertheless, how on earth can you put me in such a position?”
“What position?”
She didn’t answer. They just looked at each other.
“What position?” he repeated. “You mean of seeing me again?”
She was silent.
“Are you trying to tell me I had no right to come back?”
“I’d have done anything for you, but you shouldn’t have then turned around and told me that it wasn’t necessary. It’s all over now, and you shouldn’t remind me of what I did. Don’t you understand?”
So that’s how it is, he thought. Understand? Oh yes, I do understand. At least I’m beginning to understand. There are women one shouldn’t see again, and there are men who shouldn’t make a nuisance of themselves. Drivers, for example, if they’ve had a fling with a girl from a posh family. There are girls that one shouldn’t compromise, and others who’d gladly let themselves be arrested for a man. Those whom one shouldn’t question about what they had been up to, and others who would have it splashed all over the papers that they wanted to sacrifice themselves for you. Girls to whom one mustn’t return, and others who wait for years and to whom one doesn’t return…
“Don’t you see,” she said, “you can’t just turn up here like that? You’re compromising me, you must show me some consideration! If I got carried away last night,”—she cast her eyes to the ground—“that was something else. But now you can’t just barge in like that. You’re forgetting that…” She broke off, searching for words.
“You’re quite right,” he said after a pause. “I’m forgetting that you’re not some girl from the suburbs that I can see when and where I please. I’m forgetting that you’ve got to heed your reputation, otherwise your family will disown you. I’m forgetting that it’s impossible for us to be seen together, that everything that you did for me was just a one-night stand, just a matter of a few hours, and that you can’t be my lover. I’m forgetting that I have to forget this. Nevertheless, I thank you,” he said, and came close to her and kissed her hands. “I thank you for doing what you did.”
With that, he looked at her for a moment, then let her hands fall and turned. She grabbed his arm. “Listen,” she said, “I don’t want you to think that I…”
She fell silent. There was the sound of someone coming up the stairs. They were quick, hurried steps, two treads at a time. The next moment Marisabelle’s brother appeared in the doorway. He looked at them both, as if wanting to say something. However, when Sponer approached the door, he stepped back onto the landing.
Sponer crossed the threshold. At that moment the young Raschitz leapt from the side towards him. Sponer, as quick as a flash, turned round towards him and knocked him to the ground.
Then he walked away.
He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, through the suburbs. In his eyes there was a strange expression, as if he didn’t quite see where he was going.
After for some time, he lit a cigarette. After a couple of puffs, however, he noticed that it tasted of honey. He still had one of Mortimer’s cigarettes. He threw it away. It was more than half an hour before he came to his district. However, he didn’t turn off in the direction of his flat, but went to Fiala’s house instead.