time till Mother is quite well again. I didn’t remember her at all, for
I was only four or five when she went away from Vienna. You dear little
black beetle she said to me and gave me a kiss. I didn’t like the
_black_ much, but Hella says that suits me, that it’s _piquant_.
_Piquant_ is what the officers always say of her cousin in Krems, Father
says she is a beauty, and she’s dark like me. But I’d rather be fair,
fair with brown eyes or better still with violet eyes. Shall I grow up a
beauty? Oh I do hope I shall!
December 23rd. I am frightfully excited about to-morrow. I wonder what
I shall get? Now I must go and decorate the Christmas tree. Inspee said:
Hullo, is _Gretl_ going to help decorate this year? She’s never done it
before! I should like to know why not. But Aunt Dora took my side. “Of
course she’ll help decorate too; but please don’t stuff yourselves
with sweets.” “If Dora doesn’t eat anything I shan’t either,” said I
promptly.
Evening. Yesterday was our last day at school. The holidays are from the
23rd to January 2nd. It’s glorious. I shall be able to go skating every
day. Of course I had no time to-day and shan’t have to--morrow. I wonder
whether I should send the Gold Fairy a Christmas card. I wish she had a
prettier name. Anastasia Klastoschek; it is so ugly. All Czech names
are so ugly. Father knows a Count Wilczek, but a still worse name is
Schafgotsch. Nothing would induce me to marry anyone called Schafgotsch
or Wilczek even if he were a count and a millionaire. Yesterday we
paid our respects to the staff, Verbenowitsch and I went to Frau Doktor
because she is fondest of us, or is _said_ to be. Nobody wanted to go to
Professor Rigl, Igel, we always say Nikel, for when he has respects paid
to him he always says: “Aw ri’.” But it would have been rude to leave
him out and so the monitors had to go. When Christmas was drawing near
Frau Doktor told us that we were none of us to give presents to the
staff. “I beg you, girls, to bear in mind what I am saying, for if you
do not there will only be trouble. You remember what happened on St.
Nicholas’ day. And you must not send anything to the homes of the staff,
nor must the Christ Child leave anything on any one’s doorstep.” As she
said this she looked hard at me and Edith Bergler, so she knows who left
the Krampus. I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open. Hurrah, to-morrow
is Christmas Eve!!!
December 24th. Christmas Eve afternoon is horrid. One does not know what
to be at. I’m not allowed to go skating so the best thing is to write.
Oswald came home yesterday. Everyone says he’s looking splendid; I think
he’s awfully pale and he snorted when everyone said he had such a fine
colour; of course, how can he look well when he has such a _heartache_.
I wish I could tell him that I understand what he feels, but he’s too
proud to accept sympathy from me. He has wished for an army revolver for
Christmas, but I don’t think he’ll get one for boys at the middle school
are not allowed to have any firearms. Not long ago at a Gymnasium in
Galicia one of the boys shot a master out of revenge; they said it was
because the boy was getting on badly with his work, but really it was
about a girl, although the master was 36 years old. This morg. I was
in town with Oswald shopping; we met the Warths, Elli and . . . Robert.
Oswald said that Elli was quite nice-looking but that Robert was an ugly
beast. Besides, he can’t stand him he said, because he glared at me so.
If only he knew what happened in the summer! I was awfully condescending
to Robert and that made him furious. If one could only save you girls
from all the troubles which the world calls “Love,” said Oswald on the
way home. I was just going to say “I know that you’re unhappy in love
and I can feel for you,” when Inspee came round the corner of the
Bognergasse with her chum and 2 officers were following them, so none
of them saw us. “Great Scott, Frieda’s full-fledged now,” said Oswald,
“she’s a little tart.” I can’t stand that sort of vulgarity so I did
not say another word all the way home. He noticed and said to Mother:
“Gretl’s mouth has been frozen up from envy.” That’s all. But it was
really disgusting of him and now I know what line to take.
Just a moment for a word or two. The whole Christmas Eve has gone to
pot. A commissionaire came with a bouquet for Dora and Father is fuming.
I wish I knew who sent it. I wonder if it was one of those 2 officers?
Of course Inspee says she has not the ghost of an idea. What surprises
me is that Oswald has not given her away. All he said was: I say, what
a lark! But Father was down on him like anything, “You hold your jaw
and think of your own beastly conduct.” I didn’t envy him; I don’t think
much of Dora’s looks myself, but apparently she pleases _someone_. In
the bouquet there was a poem and Dora got hold of it quickly before
Father had seen it. It was awfully pretty, and it was signed: One for
whom you have made Christmas beautiful! The heading is: “The Magic
Season.” I think Dora’s splendid not to give herself away; even to me
she declares she does not know who sent it; but of course that may be
all humbug. I think it really comes from young Perathoner, with whom
she’s always skating.
December 28th. I’ve had absolutely no time to write. I got everything I
wanted. Aunt Dora gave both of us an opera glass in mother-of-pearl in
a plush case. We are going to all the school performances, Father’s
arranged it; he has subscribed to _all_ the performances during the
school year 19-- to 19--. I am so delighted for Frau Doktor M. will come
too. I do hope I shall sit next to her.
December 31st. To-day I wanted to read through all I have written, but I
could not manage it but in the new year I really must write every day.
January 1st, 19--. I must write a few sentences at least. For the
afternoon we had been invited to the Rydberg’s the Warths were there and
Edle von Wernhoff!! I was just the same as usual with Lisel but I would
not say a word to R. They left before us, and then Heddy asked me what
was wrong between me and R. He had said of me: Any one can have the
_black goose for me_. Then he said that any one could take me in. I was
so stupid that I would believe anything. I can’t think what he meant,
for he never took me in about anything. Anyhow I would not let _him_
spoil new year’s day for me. But Hella is quite right for if the
first person one meets on January 1st is a common person that’s a bad
beginning. The first thing this morning when I went out I met our old
postman who’s always so grumpy if he’s kept waiting at the door.
I looked the other way directly and across the street a fine young
gentleman was passing, but it was no good for the common postman had
really been the first.
January 12th. I am so angry. _We_ mayn’t go skating any more because
Inspee has begun to complain again of her silly old ears and Mother
imagines that she got her earache last year skating. It’s all right to
keep _her_ at home; but why shouldn’t _I_ go? How can _I_ help it when
_she_ gets a chill so easily? In most things Father is justice itself,
but I really can’t understand him this time. It’s simply absurd, only
it’s too miserable to call it absurd. I’m in a perfect fury. Still, I
don’t say anything.
February 12th. I have not written for a whole month, I’ve been working
so hard. To-day we got our reports. Although I’ve been working so
frightfully hard, again I only got a 2 in Diligence. Frau Doktor M. made
a splendid speech and said: As you sow, so you shall reap. But that’s
not always true. In Natural History I did not know my lesson twice but
I got a 1, and in History I only did not know my lesson once and I got
Satisfactory. Anyhow Fraulein V. does not like me because of that time
when I did not bow to her in the tram. That is why in January, when
Mother asked about me, she said: “She does not really put her back
into her work.” I overheard Father say: After all she’s only a kid, but
to-day he made a frightful row about the 2 in Diligence. He might have
known why she gave me that. Dora, _so she says_, has only ones, but
she has not shown me the report. I don’t believe what I don’t see. And
Mother never gives her away to me.
February 15th. Father is furious because Oswald has an Unsatisfactory in
Greek. Greek is really no use; for no one uses Greek, except the people
who live in Greece and Oswald will never go there, if he is going to be
a judge like Father. _Of course_ Dora learns Latin; but not for me thank
you. Hella’s report is not particularly good and her father was in a
_perfect fury!!!_ He says she ought to have a better report than any one
else. She does not bother much and says: One can’t have everything. But
if she doesn’t get nothing but ones in the summer term she is not
to stay at the high school and will have to go to the middle school.
That’ll make her sit up. Father’s awfully funny too: What have you got
history books for, if you don’t read them? Yesterday when I was reading
my album of stories, Father came in and said: You like a story book
better than a history book, and shut the book up and took it away from
me. I was in such a temper that I went to bed at 7 o’clock without any
supper.
February 20th. I met the Gold Fairy to-day. She spoke to me and asked
why I did not come skating any more. The fancy dress Ice Carnival on the
24th was splendid she said. I said: Would you believe it, a year ago my
_sister_ had an earache, and _for that reason_ they won’t allow
_either_ of us to skate this year. She laughed like anything and said so
exquisitely: Oh, what a wicked sister. She looked perfectly ravishing:
A red-brown coat and skirt trimmed with fur, sable I believe, and a huge
brown beaver hat with crepe-de-chine ribbons, lovely. And her eyes and
mouth. I believe she will marry the man who is always going about with
her. Next autumn, when we get new winter clothes, I shall have a fur
trimmed red-brown. We must not always be dressed alike. Hella and Lizzi
are never dressed alike.
March 8th. I shall never say another word to Berta Franker she’s utterly
false. I’ve such a frightful headache because I cried all through
the lesson. She wrote to Hella and me in the arithmetic lesson: A
_Verhaltnis_ ** means something quite different. Just at that moment the
mistress looked across and said: To whom were you nodding? She said: To
Lainer. Because she laughed at the word “Verhaltnis.” It was not true.
I had not thought about the word at all. It wasn’t till I had read the
note that it occurred to Hella and me what _Verhaltnis_ means. After the
lesson Fraulein St. called us down into the teachers’ room and told
Frau Doktor M. that Franke and I had laughed at the use of the word
“Verhaltnis.” Frau Doktor said: What was there to laugh at? Why did you
not just do your sums? Fraulein St. said: You ought to be ashamed of
yourselves, young girls in the first class shouldn’t know anything about
such things. I shall have to speak to your mothers. In the German lesson
Frau Doktor M. told us to write an essay on the proverb: Pure the
heart and true the word, clear the brow and free the eye, these are our
safeguards, or something of that sort; I must get Hella to write it for
me, for I was crying all through the lesson.
** The German word Verhaltnis as used in the arithmetic lesson
means ratio, proportion. The word is in common use in
Germany for a love intimacy or liaison.--Translators’ Note.
March 10th. To-day Berta Franke wanted to talk things out with us; but
Hella and I told her we would not speak to her again. We told her to
remember _what sort_ of things she had said to us. She denied it all
already. We shouldn’t be such humbugs. It was mean of her. Really we
didn’t know anything and _she_ told us all about it. Hella has told
me again and again she wished we didn’t know anything. She says she’s
always afraid of giving herself away and that she often thinks about
that sort of thing when she ought to be learning her lessons. So do
I. And one often dreams about such things at night when one has been
talking about them in the afternoon. Still, it’s better to know all
about it.
March 22nd. I so seldom manage to write anything, first of all our
lessons take such a lot of time, and second because I don’t care about
it any more since what Father said the other day. The last time I wrote
was on Saturday afternoon, and Father came in and said: Come along
children, we’ll go to Schonbrunn. That will do you more good than
scribbling diaries which you only go and lose when you’ve written them.
So Mother told Father all about it in the holidays. I couldn’t have
believed it of Mother for I begged her to promise not to tell anyone.
And she said: One doesn’t promise about a thing like that; but I won’t
tell anyone. And now she must have told about it, although she said she
wouldn’t. Even Franke’s deceitfulness was nothing to that for after all
we’ve only known her since last autumn, but I could never have believed
that Mother would do such a thing. I told Hella when we were having tea
at the Tivoli and she said she would not altogether trust her mother,
she’d rather trust her father. But if that had happened to _her_, her
father would have boxed her ears with the diary. I did not want to show
anything, but in the evening I only gave Mother quite a little kiss. And
she said, what’s the matter, dear? has anything happened? Then I could
not keep it in and I cried like anything and said: You’ve betrayed me.
And Mother said: “I?” Yes, you; you told Father about the diary though
you promised me you wouldn’t. At first Mother didn’t remember anything
about it, but soon she remembered and said: “But, little one, I tell
Father everything. All you meant was that Dora was not to know.” That’s
quite true, it’s all right that Dora wasn’t told; but still Father need
not have been told either. And Mother was awfully sweet and nice and I
didn’t go to bed till 10 o’clock. But whatever happens I shan’t tell
her anything again and I don’t care about the old diary any more. Hella
says: Don’t be stupid; I ought just to go on writing; but another time
I should be careful not to lose anything, and besides I should not blab
everything to Mother and Father. She says she no longer tells her mother
anything since that time in the summer when her mother gave her a box on
the ear because that other girl had told her all about everything. It’s
quite true, Hella is right, I’m just a child still in the way I run to
Mother and tell her everything. And it’s not nice of Father to tease me
about my diary; I suppose he never kept one himself.
March 27th. Hurrah we’re going to Hainfeld for Easter; I am so
delighted. Mother has a friend there whose husband is doctor there, so
she has to live there all the year round. Last year in the winter she
and Ada stayed three days with us because her eyes were bad. Ada is
really nearly as old as Dora, but Dora said, like her cheek: “Her
intellectual level makes her much more suitable company for you than for
me.” Dora thinks herself cleverer than anyone else. They have 2 boys,
but I don’t know them very well for they are only 8 and 9. Mother’s
friend was in an asylum once, for she went off her head when her 2 year
old baby died. I remember it quite well. It must have been more than 2
years ago when Father and Mother were always talking of poor Anna who
had lost her child within 3 days. And I believed she had really lost it,
and once I asked whether they had found it yet. I thought it had been
lost in the forest, because there’s such a great forest at Hainfeld. And
since then I can’t bear to hear people say lost when they mean dead, for
it is so difficult to know which they really mean.
On the 8th of April the Easter holidays will begin and we shall go on
the 11th, on Maundy Thursday.
April 6th. I don’t know what to do about writing my diary. I don’t want
to take it with me and as for remembering everything and writing it down
afterwards I know quite well I should never do that. Hella says I should
only jot it down in outline, that’s what Frau Doktor M. always says, and
write it out properly after I come back from Hainfeld. That’s what she
does. They are going to the Brioni Islands. I’ve never seen the sea.
Hella says there’s nothing so wonderful about it. She’s been there four
times. Anyway she does not think so much of it as most people do. So it
can’t be anything so frightfully grand. Rather stupid I dare say.
April 12th. We got here yesterday. Ada is a darling but the two boys
are awfully vulgar. Ernstl said to Ada: I shall give you a smack on the
a---- if you don’t give me my pistol directly. Ada is as tall as her
mother. Their speech is rather countrified Even the doctor’s. He drinks
a frightful lot of beer; quarts I believe.
April 14th. Father came to-day. He’s awfully fond of the doctor. They
kissed one another. It did make me laugh. In the morning we were in
the forest; but there are no violets yet, only a few snowdrops, but a
tremendous lot of hellebores quite red.
April 15th. We got up at 4 yesterday morning. We did not go into the
church for Mother was afraid that the smell of incense and boots would
make Dora feel bad. What rot! It was lovely. This afternoon we are going
to Ramsau, it’s lovely there.
April 16th. Father went home to-day. We go home to-morrow. At
Whitsuntide Ada’s mother is going to bring her to be confirmed. They
are all coming to stay with us. I got stuck in a bog on the bank of the
Ramsau. It was awful. But the doctor pulled me out and then we did all
laugh so when we saw what my shoes and stockings were like. Luckily I
was able to catch hold of a tree stump or I should have sunk right in.
April 18th. Hella says it was splendid at the Brioni Islands. She is
frightfully sunburned. I don’t like that, so I shall _never_ go to the
_south_. Hella says that if one marries in winter one _must_ spend one’s
honeymoon in the south. That would not suit me, I should just put off my
marriage till the summer.
Ada is only 13 not 14 like Dora, and the parish priest makes a
tremendous fuss because she’s not confirmed yet. Her mother is going to
bring her to be confirmed soon. We are not going to be confirmed because
Father and Mother don’t want to be bothered with it. Still I should like
to be confirmed, for then one _has_ to have a watch, and one can ask for
something else at Christmas.
April 21st. Our lessons are something frightful just now. The school
inspector is coming soon. It’s always very disagreeable. Mme A. says:
The inspection is for the staff not for the pupils. Still, it’s horrid
for the pupils too first of all because we get blamed at the time
and secondly because the staff makes such a frightful row about it
afterwards. Dora says that a bad inspection can make one’s report 2
degrees worse. By the way, that reminds me that I have not yet written
why Oswald did not come home at Easter. _Although his reports were not
at all good_, he was allowed to go to Aunt Alma’s at Pola, because this
year Richard comes home for the holidays for the last time. After that
he’s going away for three years in the steamship “Ozean” to the East or
Turkey or Persia, I don’t quite know where. If Oswald likes he can go
into the Navy too in two years.
May 9th. The school inspector came to-day, first of all in natural
history, thank goodness I wasn’t in for it that time, and then in
German; I was in that, reading and in the table of contents of the
Wandering Bells. Thank goodness I got through all right.
May 14th. It’s Mother’s birthday to-day. We’ve had simply no time to
work anything for her, so we got a wonderful electric lamp for her bed
table, the switch is a bunch of grapes and the stand is made of brass.
She was so pleased with it. Yesterday Frau v. R. was here. She’s a
friend of Mother’s and of Hella’s mother. I should like to have music
lessons from Frau v. R., she gives lessons since her husband who was a
major died though she is quite well off.
May 15th. That must have been true about the inspection; in the interval
to-day Professor Igel-Nikel said to the Herr Religionsprofessor: Well,
he will go on coming all through the week and then we shall be all right
for this year. _We_, of course that means the staff. But really the
staff can’t help it if the pupils are no good. Though Oswald says it’s
all the fault of the staff. I shall be glad too when the inspection is
over. The staff is always quite different when the inspector is there,
some are better, some are stricter, and Mme. A. says: I always feel
quite ill with anxiety.
May 29th. At Whitsuntide Frau Doctor Haslinger came from Hainfeld with
Ada and the two boys for the confirmation. On Whitsunday the doctor came
too and in the evening they all went home again. Ada is very pretty, but
she looks countrified. I’m not going to be confirmed anyhow. We had to
wait 3 hours, though the Friday before Whitsunday was a very fine day.
Dora did not come; only Mother and I and Ada and her mother. The
women who were selling white favours all thought that I was one of the
candidates because I wore a white dress too. Ada was rather put out
about it. On Saturday we were in town in the morning and afternoon
because Ada liked that better than the Kahlenberg; on Sunday morning we
went to Schonbrunn and in the afternoon they went home. The watch they
gave to Ada was a lovely one and Dora and I gave her a gold chain for a
locket. She enjoyed herself immensely, except that on Sunday she had a
frightful headache. Because she is not used to town noises.
May 31st. Ada knows a good deal already, but not everything. I told her
a few things. In H. last winter a girl drowned herself because she was
going to have a baby. It made a great sensation and her mother told her
a little, but not everything. Ada once saw a bitch having her pups, but
she didn’t tell her mother about it; she thought that her mother might
be very angry. Still, she could not help it, the dog belonged to their
next door neighbour and she happened to see it in the out-house. Ada
is expecting _it_ to begin every day for she is nearly 14. In H. every
grown-up girl has an admirer. Ada says she will have one as soon as she
is 14; she knows who it will be.
June 3rd. Ada wrote to-day to thank Mother about the confirmation and
she wrote to me as well. It is strange that she did not make friends
with Dora but with me. I think that Dora won’t talk about _those_
things, at least only with her friends in the high school, especially
with Frieda Ertl. That is why Ada made friends with me, though I am 2
years younger. She is really an awfully nice girl.
June 19th. One thing after another goes missing in our class, first
it was Fleischer’s galoshes, then my new gloves, three times money was
missing, and today Fraulein Steiner’s new vanity bag. There was a great
enquiry. But nothing was found out. We all think it is Schmolka. But
no one will tell. To-day we could none of us attend to our lessons
especially when Sch. left the room at half past 11.
June 20th. In our closet the school servant found some beads on the
floor but since she did not know anything she threw them into the
dustbin. Was it really Sch.? It would be a dirty trick. Frl. St. is
frightfully upset because her betrothed gave her the vanity bag for a
birthday present and his photo was in it. But I’m really sorry for
Sch. Nobody will speak to her although nothing is proved yet. She is
frightfully pale and her eyes are always full of tears. Hella thinks too
that perhaps she didn’t do it, for she is one of Frl. St.’s favourites
and she is very fond of her herself. She always carries the copybooks
home for her.
June 22nd. Our closet was stopped up and when the porter came to see
what was the matter he found the vanity bag. But what use is it to Frl.
now; she can’t possibly use it any more. We giggled all through lessons
whenever we caught one another’s eye and the staff was in a frightful
rage. Only Frau Doktor M. said: “Now please get through with your
laughing over this extremely unsavoury affair, and then have done with
it.”
June 23rd. There was a frightful row to-day. Verbenowitsch was
collecting the German copybooks and when Sch. wanted to hand up her
copybook she said: Please give up your copybook yourself; I won’t have
anything to do with (then there was a long pause) you. We were all
apalled and Sch. went as white as a sheet. At 10 o’clock she begged
permission to leave the room because she felt bad. I’m sure her mother
will come to speak about it to-morrow.