Beware of Pity (19 page)

“I won’t go into detail, but he dragged her to his lawyer’s chambers, where he did a great deal of telephoning about other matters. Then he took her to a bank and asked for the manager, to get advice on the way she should invest the money from the sale, and opened an account for her; he took her on to two mortgage banks and an obscure real estate agent, as if he needed information from them. And she went along with it, she sat quietly and patiently in the waiting rooms of all these offices while he went about his pretended business inside. Twelve years of enslavement to the Princess had long ago accustomed her to waiting as the most natural thing in the world; it did not oppress or humiliate her, she just waited with her hands quietly folded, casting down her blue eyes when anyone passed by. She did as Kanitz told her, patient and obedient as a child. She signed forms at the bank without reading them, and wrote receipts for sums that she had not yet been paid so unthinkingly that Kanitz began to suffer from the unpleasant suspicion that this idiot might have been just as happy to get a hundred and forty thousand or even a mere hundred and thirty thousand crowns. She said yes when the bank manager advised her to invest in railway stock, she said yes when he also advised bank securities, and each time she looked anxiously at Kanitz. It was clear that all these business practices, these forms and signatures, even the sight of money itself naked and unashamed caused her great uneasiness,
and all she wanted was to escape such incomprehensible affairs and sit quietly in a room, reading, knitting or playing the piano, instead of having her hopelessly impractical mind and anxious heart confronted with decision-making.

“But Kanitz tirelessly took her around on these errands of his own invention, partly because he really wanted to be sure, as he had promised, that the money from the sale was invested as securely as possibly, partly to keep her bemused. This went on from nine in the morning to five-thirty in the evening. By then they were both so exhausted that he suggested a little rest in a café. Everything essential had been done, he told her, the sale was as good as concluded, she would only have to sign the contract at the notary’s office at seven o’clock and receive the money. Her face lit up at once.

“‘Oh, then I could leave first thing in the morning?’ The two cornflower-blue eyes were smiling radiantly at him.

“‘Why, of course,’ Kanitz reassured her. ‘In an hour’s time you’ll be free as air, with no more worries about money and property. Your investments are perfectly secure, and will bring you six thousand crowns a year. You can live anywhere in the world, wherever you like.’

“And out of civility, he asked where she was thinking of going. Her face, so bright a moment ago, clouded over again.

“‘I thought it would be best to go to my relations in Westphalia at first. I think there’s a train going by way of Cologne tomorrow morning.’

“Kanitz immediately showed great enthusiasm. He told the head waiter to bring the railway timetable, looked through it and worked out all the connections. The express from Vienna through Frankfurt to Cologne, then change trains in Osnabrück. The most convenient train, he said, would be the nine-twenty
express in the morning. By evening, that would get her to Frankfurt, where he advised her to spend the night so as not to tire herself too much. In his nervous enthusiasm he leafed on, and found an advertisement for a Protestant hostel where she could stay. She needn’t worry about buying her ticket, he said, he would do that, and he would be there without fail in the morning to take her to the station. Such discussion passed the time more quickly than he had expected, and at last he could look at his watch and say, ‘But now we must be off to the notary’s office.’

“In just under an hour it was all over. In just under an hour our friend had cheated the heiress out of three-quarters of her fortune. When his accomplice Gollinger saw the name of Kekesfalva Castle and then the low sale price, he winked, unnoticed by Fräulein Dietzenhof, and gave his old companion in underhand dealings an admiring glance. Put it into words, and this friendly admiration said something like, ‘Good work, old fellow! Quick off the mark, eh?’ The notary too looked through his glasses at Fräulein Dietzenhof with interest; like everyone else, he had read about the Princess’s disputed estate in the papers, and as a lawyer he thought there was something not at all right about the haste with which Kekesfalva was being sold on. Poor woman, he thought, you’ve fallen into the wrong hands. But it is not a notary’s business to warn either buyer or seller about a sale. He has to stamp the deed, get it registered, and see that the fees are paid. So the good man, who had seen many dubious deals done before and sealed them with the imperial eagle of Austria, just bowed his head, folded up the document, and civilly asked Fräulein Dietzenhof to be the first to sign.

“The shy creature took fright. Undecidedly, she looked at her mentor Kanitz, and only when he had encouraged her with a
nod did she go up to the table and write ‘Annette Beate Maria Dietzenhof’ in her neat, clear, upright German hand. Our friend followed her. Now it was all done, the deed signed and stamped, the price of the transaction in the notary’s hands, and the bank account into which the cheque was to be paid next day was given. With that one stroke of his pen, Leopold Kanitz had doubled or tripled his fortune. From now on, he alone was lord and master of Kekesfalva.

“The notary carefully blotted the still wet ink of the signatures, then they all three shook his hand, and went down the stairs, Fräulein Dietzenhof first, followed by Kanitz with bated breath, and after him Dr Gollinger. It annoyed Kanitz very much that the latter kept tapping his accomplice’s ribs from behind with his stick, and murmuring in his drink-sodden voice (in tones that only Kanitz could hear), ‘
Scoundrellus maximus, scoundrellus maximus
!’ Nor was Kanitz happy that Dr Gollinger took his leave at the door with an ironically deep bow, because that left him alone with his victim, and he didn’t like it.

“My dear Lieutenant Hofmiller, you must try to understand this unexpected change of mood. I won’t turn emotional and say that our friend’s conscience had suddenly pricked him. Since the signing of the agreement, however, the material situation of the two parties to it had changed considerably with that one stroke of his pen. You must remember that for the whole of those two days, Kanitz as buyer had been at odds with that poor girl as seller. She had been the enemy whom he must outwit strategically; she must be trapped and forced to capitulate. But now those financial-cum-military manoeuvres were over. Napoleon Kanitz had won hands down, and so the poor, quiet young woman walking with him down Walfischgasse side by side like two shadows, was no longer an opponent. And strange as it
sounds, nothing troubled our friend more in that moment of his swift victory than the fact that his victim had made it too easy for him. If you are going to do another human being wrong, for some mysterious reason it does the perpetrator of the injustice good to find out, or to imagine, that his victim has acted badly or unfairly in some detail or other. It salves his conscience to impute at least some small part of the blame to the person who has been deceived. But Kanitz could not accuse his victim of anything, not the least little thing; she had delivered herself up to him with her hands bound, looking at him all the time with unsuspecting gratitude in her cornflower-blue eyes. What could he say to her, now that he had done the deed? Congratulate her on the sale, meaning on her loss? He was feeling more and more uncomfortable. I’ll see her to the hotel, he thought quickly, and that will be an end of it.

However, the victim beside him was also visibly uneasy. Her own demeanour was different, was thoughtfully hesitant. Although Kanitz had bowed his head, this change did not escape him. He sensed, from her faltering footsteps (he dared not look at her face), that she was busily thinking something over. Anxiety overcame him. At last, he said to himself, she’s realised that I am the buyer myself. Now she’ll probably fling accusations at me, she’s probably already regretting her stupid haste, and maybe she’ll run straight off to her lawyer tomorrow after all.

“But then—they had gone together all the way down Walfischgasse in silence, shadow beside shadow—then at last she plucked up courage, cleared her throat, and began. ‘Forgive me … but as I am leaving first thing in the morning, I would very much like to settle everything … Above all I want to thank you for taking so much trouble and … and … and ask you to
tell me at once … tell me how much I owe you for all you have done. It’s taken up so much of your time, managing everything for me and … because I’m leaving early tomorrow … I’d very much like to have everything in order first.’

“Our friend’s feet faltered, and his heart missed a beat. This was too much! He had not been prepared for it. He was
overcome
by the painful feeling you have if you hit a dog in anger, and the beaten animal comes crawling to you on his belly, looks at you with pleading eyes and licks your cruel hand.

“‘No, no,’ he protested, dismayed. ‘You owe me nothing, nothing at all.’ And at the same time he felt sweat breaking out of every pore. He thought he was ready for anything, he had learnt, years ago, to calculate every reaction in advance, and now something entirely new had happened to him. In his hard years working as an agent he had had doors slammed in his face, he had known people who wouldn’t return his greeting, and there were some streets in the district where he operated that he preferred to avoid. But for someone he had tricked to thank him for it too—that had never happened before. And he felt ashamed in front of this first human being who trusted him in spite of everything, in spite of all he had done. Against his own will, he felt an urge to apologise.

“‘No,’ he stammered, ‘for God’s sake no … you don’t owe me anything, I won’t accept anything. I only hope I’ve done right, I hope I’ve acted as you would have wished … perhaps it would have been better to wait, indeed I’m afraid you could … you could have got rather more then … but you wanted to sell quickly, and I think that’s better for you. By God, yes, I do believe that’s better for you.’

“He was getting his breath back, and at that moment he spoke with genuine honesty.

“‘Someone like you who knows nothing about business does well to leave it alone. Someone like that should … should be content with less so long as it’s secure … Don’t,’ he added, swallowing hard, ‘don’t, I most earnestly beg you, don’t let people lead you astray by saying that you made a poor sale, or sold too cheap. After every sale people of a certain kind are sure to come along later, talking grandly and saying they would have paid more, they’d have paid much more … but when it came to it they wouldn’t have paid cash, they’d all have lumbered you with bills of exchange or stocks and shares or promissory notes … that’s not right for you, really not, I swear it, I swear to you as I stand here before you, that bank is a first-class establishment and your money is safe. You’ll get it paid regularly to the day and the hour … I swear you will. This way is better for you.’

“Meanwhile they had reached the hotel. Kanitz hesitated. I ought at least to ask her out, he thought, ask her to supper, or maybe to go to a theatre. But she was already putting out her hands to him.

“‘I think I ought not to impose on you any longer … it’s been troubling me all day to think of your giving up so much time to me. You’ve devoted yourself exclusively to my affairs for two days, and I really do feel no one could have done it more whole-heartedly. Once again I … I do thank you most sincerely. No one … ’ and here she blushed a little, ‘no one has ever been so kind and helpful to me before … I wouldn’t have believed I could possibly be freed from my situation so quickly, that it could all be done so well and made so easy for me … I thank you very,
very
much indeed.’

“Kanitz took her hand, and could not help looking at her as he did so. Some of her usual anxious manner had been dispelled by her warmth of feeling. Her usually pale and frightened face
suddenly showed glowing animation. She looked almost childlike with her speaking blue eyes and that little smile of gratitude. Kanitz sought for words in vain. But she was already wishing him goodnight and walking away, slender, light and sure of foot; her bearing had changed, it was the bearing of someone freed from a burden. Unsure of himself, Kanitz watched her go. He was still feeling: ‘There’s something else I wanted to say to her.’ But the clerk at the reception desk had already given her the key to her room, and the pageboy took her to the lift. It was over.

“So that was how the sacrificial lamb parted from the
slaughterer
. But Kanitz stood there dazed for some minutes, as if it was his own head that he had struck with the hatchet, and stared at the deserted hotel foyer. Finally he let the crowd streaming along in the street outside carry him away, although he had no idea where he was going. No one had ever looked at him like that before, with such friendly gratitude. He involuntarily heard that ‘Thank you very,
very
much!’ ringing in his ears, spoken by the woman he had robbed and deceived! He kept stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. And suddenly, outside the big glassware shop in Kärntnerstrasse, it so happened that as he was staggering mindlessly past the facade as if half asleep, he caught sight of his own reflection in one of the mirrors on display. He stared at himself as you might look at the photograph of a criminal in the newspaper, trying to work out just which of the man’s features give away his criminality, the jutting chin, the cruel set of the lips, the hard eyes? He stared at himself, and seeing his own eyes behind his glasses he suddenly recollected the pair of eyes she had shown him just now. It would be good to have eyes like that, he thought, shaken badly, not red-rimmed, greedy, nervous eyes like mine. It would be
good to have blue, shining eyes, full of ardent trust (my mother sometimes looked like that on a Friday evening, he remembered). Yes, it would be good to be that sort of person—better to let yourself be deceived than carry out the deception, better to be a decent human being with nothing on your conscience. No one else has God’s blessing. All my clever tricks, he thought, haven’t made me happy. I am still a restless, unhappy man. And so Leopold Kanitz went on down the street, a stranger to himself, and he had never felt more wretched than today, the day of his greatest triumph.