time, first of all I had my lesson anyhow, and secondly something awful
happened to Dora. She left her diary lying about in the school; and
because we have our religion lesson in the Fifth I saw a green bound
book lying under the third bench. Great Scott, I thought, that looks
like Dora’s diary. I went up as quickly as I could and put my satchel
over it. Later in the lesson I picked it up. When I got home
at 1 o’clock I did not say anything at first. After dinner
she began rummaging all over the place, but without saying
anything to me, and then I said quite quietly: “Do you hap--pen
to be look--ing for your di--ar--y? Here it is; you--left--it
in--the--fifth--class--un--der--the--third--bench.” (I kept her on
tenter hooks that way.) She got as white as a sheet and said: “You _are_
an angel. If any one else had found it, I should have been expelled
and Mad. would have had to drown herself.” “Oh, it can’t be as bad as all
that,” I said, for what she said about Mad. was frightfully exciting. In
class I had looked chiefly at what she had written about V. But I could
not read it there, because it was written very small and close together
and was several pages, but I had not looked much at what she had written
about Mad. “Did you read it?” “No, only where it happened to come open
because there’s a page torn out.” “About V. or about Mad?” “A little about
Mad; but tell me all about it; I shan’t tell anyone. For if I’d wanted
to betray you, you know quite well. . . .” And then she told me all
about Mad. But first I had to promise that I would not even tell Hella.
Mad. is secretly engaged to a man to whom she has given “the utmost
gifts of love,” that is to say she has . . . . She is madly in love with
him, and they would marry directly but he is a lieutenant too, and they
have not enough money for the security. She says that when one really
loves a man one can bear everything for his sake. She has often been to
his rooms, but she has to be frightfully careful for her father would
kill her if he found out. Dora has seen the lieutenant and says he is
very handsome, but that V. is much handsomer. Mad. says that you can’t
trust men as a rule, but that her lover is quite different, that he is
true as steel. I am sure V. is too.
May 21st. When Mad. came to-day I simply could not look at her while
Mother was there and Dora says I made an awful fool of myself. For
I went out walking with them to-day, and when we met a smart-looking
officer I hemmed and looked at Dora. But she didn’t know why. Mad. is
the daughter of a high official in the French military service and she
only took her teacher’s degree in order to get free from her Mother’s
“_tyranny_;” she nagged at her frightfully and until she began to give
lessons she was never allowed to go out alone. Dora says she is very
refined in her speech, especially when she is talking about _these_
things. Of course about _them_ she always speaks German, for it’s
much more difficult to say it in French, and probably Dora would not
understand it and then Mad. would only have to translate it. She is
called Sylvia and he calls her Sylvette. Mad. says that if one is madly
in love with a man one does whatever he asks. But I don’t see that one
need do that, for he might ask the most idiotic things; he might ask you
to get the moon out of the skies, or to pull out a tooth for his sake.
Dora says she can understand it quite well; that I still lack _the true
inwardness of thought and feeling_. It looks like utter nonsense. But
since it sounds fine I’ve written it down, and perhaps I shall find
a use for it some day when I’m talking to Walter. Mad. is always
frightfully anxious lest she should get a baby. If she did she’s sure
her father would kill her. The lieutenant is in the flying corps. He
hopes he’s going to invent a new aeroplane, and that he will make a lot
of money out of it. Then he will be able to marry Mad. But it would be
awful if _something happened_ and she got a baby already.
May 22nd. Dora asked me to-day how it was I knew all about these things,
whether Hella had told me. I did not want to give Hella away, so I said
quite casually: “Oh, one can read all about that in the encyclopedia.”
But Dora laughed and said: “You are quite on the wrong scent; you can’t
find a tenth of all those things in the encyclopedia, and what you do
find is no good. In _these_ matters it is _absolutely no good_ depending
on books.” First of all she would not tell me any more, but after a
time she told me a good deal, especially the names of certain parts, and
about _fertilisation_, and about the microscopic baby which really comes
from the husband, and not as Hella and I had thought, from the wife.
And how one knows whether a woman is _fruitful_. That is really an awful
word. In fact almost every word has a second meaning of _that_ sort, and
what Dora says is quite true, one must be fearfully careful when one is
talking. Dora thinks it would be best to make a list of all such words,
but there are such a frightful lot of them that one never could. The
only thing one can do is to be awfully careful; but one soon gets used
to it. Still it happened to Dora the other day that she said to V.: I
don’t want any _intercourse_. And that really means “the utmost gifts
of love,” so Mad. told her. But V. was so well-mannered that he did
not show that he noticed anything; and it did not occur to Dora until
afterwards what she had said. It’s really awfully stupid that every
ordinary word should have such a meaning. I shall be so frightfully
careful what I say now, so that I shan’t use any word with two meanings.
Mad. says it’s just the same in French. We don’t know whether it is the
same in English and we could never dream of asking that awful fright,
Miss Lundy. Very likely she does not know the first thing about it
anyhow. I know a great deal more than Hella now, but I can’t tell her
because of betraying Dora and Mad. Perhaps I can give her a hint to
be more careful in what she says, so as not to use any word with two
meanings. That is really my duty as a friend.
May 23rd. I quite forgot. Last week Oswald had his written matriculation
exam, he wrote a postcard every day and Mother was frightfully annoyed
because he made such silly jokes all the time that we could not really
tell how he got on. Dora and I are awfully excited because next Monday
we are going to the aerodome with Frau Richter and her niece who is at
the conservatoire. Lieutenant Streinz is going to fly too. Of course
we’ll motor out because the railway is not convenient. Of course Viktor
will be there, but he is motoring over with some other officers. It’s
a great pity, for it would have been lovely if he’d been in our car. By
the way, I saved the class to-day, the school inspector has been this
week and examined our class first in History and then in German, and I
was the only one who knew all that Frau Doktor M. had told us about the
Origin of Fable. The insp. was very complimentary and afterwards Frau
Doktor M. said: its quite true one can always depend upon Lainer; she’s
got a trustworthy memory. When we were walking home she was awfully
nice: “Do you know, Lainer, I feel that I really must ask your pardon.”
I was quite puzzled and Hella asked: But why? She said: “It seemed to me
this year that you were not taking quite so much interest in your German
lessons as you did last year; but now you’ve _reinstated_ yourself in my
good opinion.” Afterwards Hella said: I say you know, Frau Doktor M. is
not so far wrong when I think of all that we used to read last year so
that we might know everything when the lesson came, and when I think of
what we do this year!!! You know very well -- -- -- --. Hella is quite
right, but still one can learn in spite of _those things_, one can’t be
_always_ talking about them. And then it’s quite easy to learn for such
an angel as Frau Doktor M. Hella says that I got as red as a turkey cock
from pride because I could say it all in the very words of Frau Doktor
M., but it was not so, for first of all I was not a bit puffed up about
it, and secondly I really don’t know myself how I managed to say it
all. I only felt that Frau Doktor M. is so annoyed when no one offers to
answer a question, and so I took it on.
May 25th. Confound it, I could slap myself a hundred times. How could I
be so stupid! Now we’re not allowed to go to the aerodome. Father only
let us go because Viktor is in Linz and Father believed he was going
to stay there another fortnight. And at dinner to-day I made a slip and
said: “It is a pity there’s no room for five in our car. If Fraulein
Else were not coming Lieutenant Richter could come with us.” Dora kicked
me under the table and I tried to brazen it out, but Father was so angry
and said. “Hullo, is the flying man coming? No, no, children, nothing
doing. I shall make your excuses to Frau Richter directly. I’m not
having any, did not I tell you you weren’t to see the fellow any more?”
Of course this last was to Dora. Dora did not say anything but she did
not eat any pudding or fruit, and as soon as we were back in our room
she gave it me hot, saying: You did that on purpose, you little beast,
but really you are only a child whom I never ought to have trusted, and
so on. It’s really too bad to say I did it _on purpose_, as if I envied
her. Besides it’s bad for me as well as for her, for I like him very
much too, for he makes no difference between us and treats me exactly
like Dora. Of course we are not on speaking terms now, and what
infuriated me more than anything was that she said she grudged every
word she had said to me in _this_ connection: “Pearls before Swine.”
What a rude thing to say. So I am an S. But I should like to know who
told most. I forsooth? Anyhow I’m quite sure that I shall never talk to
her again about _anything of that sort_. Thank goodness I have a friend
in Hella. She would never say or think anything of the kind of me.
May 26th. Neither of us could sleep a wink all night; Dora cried
frightfully, I heard her though she tried to stifle it, and I cried too,
for I was thinking all the time what I could do to prevent Viktor
from thinking unkindly of me. That would be awful. Then I thought of
something, and chance or I ought to say luck helped me. Viktor does not
walk to school with us any longer, because the girls of the Fifth have
seen us several times, but he comes to meet Dora when she comes away at
1 o’clock. So quite early I telephoned to him at a public telephone call
office, for I did not dare to do it at home. Dora was so bad that she
could not go to school so I was going alone with Hella. I telephoned
saying a friend was ringing him up, that was when the maid answered the
telephone, and then she called him. I told him: that whatever happened
he was not to think unkindly of me and I must see him at 1 o’clock
because Dora was ill. He must wait at the corner of ---- Street. All
through lessons I was so upset that I don’t in the least know what we
did. And at 1 o’clock he was there all right, and I told him all about
it and he was so awfully kind and he consoled me; _he_ consoled _me_.
That’s quite different from the way Dora behaved. I was so much upset
that I nearly cried, and then he drew me into a doorway and _put his arm
round me_ and with his _own_ handkerchief wiped away my tears. I shall
never tell Dora about that. Then he asked me to be awfully kind to Dora
because she had such a _lot_ to bear. I don’t really know _what_ she has
to bear, but still, for his sake, because it’s really worth doing it for
that, after dinner I put a note upon her desk, saying: V. sends oceans
of love to you and hopes you will be all right again by Monday. At the
same time his best thanks for the book. I put the note in Heidepeter’s
Gabriel, which she had lent to me to read and put it down very
significantly. When she read it she flushed up, swallowed a few times
and said: “Have you seen him? Where was it and when?” Then I told her
all about it and she was frightfully touched and said: “You really are
a good girl, only frightfully undependable.” What do you mean,
undependable? She said: Yes undependable, for one simply must not blurt
out things in that way; never mind, I will try to forget. Have you
finished Heidepeter’s Gabriel yet? “No,” I said, “I’m not going to read
anyone’s book with whom I’m angry.” In the end we made it up, but of
course we did not talk any more about it and I did not say a word about
that business with the handkerchief.
May 29th. On June 10th or 12th, Mother and Dora are going to Frazensbad,
because they both have to take mud baths. Besides, Father says that a
change will give Dora new thoughts, so that she won’t go about hanging
her head like a sick chicken. To-day Dora told me something very
interesting. Unmarried men have little books and with these they can go
to visit women “of a certain kind” in Graben and in the Karntnerstrasse.
There, Dora says, they have to pay 10 florins or 10 crowns. In Dora’s
class there is a girl whose father is police surgeon, and they have all
to be examined every month to see if they are healthy, and if not they
can’t visit these “ladies,” and that’s why the Preusses can never keep a
servant. In my bath yesterday I noticed that I had a certain line, so
I must be fr--. But I shan’t have more than 1 or 2 children at most for
the line is very faint. When I’m studying I often think of such things,
and then I read a whole page and turn over and have not the remotest
idea what I’ve been reading. It’s very tiresome, for soon the other
school insp. for maths. and the other subjects is coming, and I should
not like to make a fool of myself; especially not because perhaps the
inspectors talk us over with one another about who is clever and who
stupid.
May 30th. The concert was glorious. When I hear such grand music I
always have to keep myself well in hand for I fear I should cry. It’s
very stupid, of course, but at such times I can only think of sad
things, even if it’s just a small piece. Dora can play Brahms’ Hungarian
Dances, too, but that never makes me want to cry. I only get annoyed
because I can’t play them myself. I could all right, but I have not got
patience to practice long enough. I never tell anyone that I want to
cry when I am listening to music, not even Hella, though I tell her
everything, except of course about Mad. Yesterday I made a fool of
myself; at least so Dora says. I don’t know how it happened, we were
talking about books at supper, and I said: “What’s the use of books,
one can’t learn anything out of them; everything is quite different from
what they say in books.” Then Father got in a wax and said: “You little
duffer, you can thank your stars there are books from which you can
learn something. Anyone who can’t understand a book always says it is no
good.” Dora gave me a look, but I didn’t know what she meant, and I
went on: “Yes, but there’s an awful lot that the encyclopedia puts all
wrong.” “What have you been ferreting in the encyclopedia for; we shall
have to keep the key of the bookcase in a safer place.” Thank goodness
Dora came to my help and said: “Gretel wanted to look up something
about the age of elephants and mammoths, but it’s quite different in the
encyclopedia from what Prof. Rigl told her last year.” I was saved. Dora
can act splendidly; I’ve noticed it before. In the evening she rowed me,
and said: “You little goose, will you never learn caution; first that
stupidity about Viktor and to-day this new blunder! I’ve helped you out
of a hole once but I shan’t do it again.” And then she spent all the
time writing a letter, to him of course--! Hella and I have just been
reading a lot of things in the encycl., about _Birth_ and _Pregnancy_,
and I on my own about abor--; we came across the words Embyro
and Foetus, and I said nothing at the time but tied 2 knots in my
handkerchief to remind me, and yesterday I looked them up. Mad. need
not be anxious even if she _really_ did get like that. But every doctor
knows about it and one often dies of it. I wonder if Mad. knows anything
about it. We were talking about the _differences_ between men and women,
and it came out that when Hella has her bath she is still washed by Anna
who has been with them for 12 years. Nothing would induce me to allow
that, I would not let anyone wash me, except Mother; certainly not Dora,
for I don’t want her to know what _I_ look like. The nurse in the hosp.
told Hella that she is developed just like a little nymph, so lovely and
symetrical. Hella says that is nothing unusual, that every girl looks
like that, that the female body is _Nature’s Work of Art_. Of course
she’s read that somewhere, for it does not really mean anything.
_Nature’s_ work of art; it ought to be: a work of art made by husband
and wife!!!
May 30th. Dora and Mother are going to Franzensbad on June 6th, directly
after Whitsuntide. Dora has got another new coat and skirt, grey with
blue stripes; yesterday our white straw hats came, it suits me very well
says Hella and everyone, with white ribbons and wild roses. There might
have been a fearful row about what’s just happened. When I went to
telephone I had my Christmas umbrella with the rose-quartz handle and
I left it in the telephone box; the girl in the tobacco shop found it
there, and as she knows me she brought it here and gave it to the porter
who brought it upstairs. Thank goodness it occurred to me at once to say
that I went into the tobacco shop to buy stamps and I must have left it
in the _shop_. No one noticed anything.
May 31st. They wanted me to go and stay with Hella for the month when
Mother and Dora are away. It would be awfully nice, but I’m not going
to, for I want to stay with Father. What would he do all alone at meal
times, and whom would he have to talk to in the evenings? Father was
really quite touched when I said this and he stroked my hair as he can
and no one else, not even Mother. So I’m going to stay at home whatever
happens. Flowers are very cheap now, so I shall put _different_ flowers
on the table every day, I shall go to the Market every day to buy a
little posy, so that they can always be fresh. It would be stupid for me
to go to the Brs., why should I, Resi has been with us for such a long
time, she knows how to do everything even if Mother is not there and
everything else I can arrange. Father won’t want for anything.
June 1st. We’ve had such an experience to-day! It’s awful; it’s quite
true then that one takes off _every stitch_ when one is madly fond of
anyone. I never really believed it, and I’m sure Dora did not, although
Mad. hinted it to her; but _it’s true_. We’ve seen it _with our own
eyes_. I was just sitting and reading Storm’s The Rider of the Grey
Horse and Dora was arranging some writing paper to take to Franzensbad
when Resi came and said: Fraulein Dora, please come here a moment, I
want you to look at something! From the tone of her voice I saw there
was something up so I went too. At first Resi would not say what it
was but Dora was generous and said: “It’s all right, you can say
_everything_ before her.” Then we went into Resi’s room and from behind
the curtain peeped into the mezzanin. A young _married couple_ live
there!!! At least Resi says people say they are _not_ really married,
but simply live together!!!! And what we saw was awful. She was
absolutely naked lying in bed without any of the clothes on, and he
was kneeling by the bedside quite n-- too, and he kissed her all over,
_everywhere!!!_ Dora said afterwards it made her feel quite sick. And
then he stood up--no, I can’t write it, it’s too awful, I shall never
forget it. So _that’s_ the way of it, it’s simply frightful. I could
never have believed it. Dora went as white as a sheet and trembled so
that Resi was terribly frightened. I nearly cried with horror, and yet
I could not help laughing too. I was really afraid he would stifle her
because he’s so big and she’s so small. And Resi says he is certainly
much too big for her, and that he nearly tears her. I don’t know why
he should tear her but certainly he might have crushed her. Dora was
so terrified she had to sit down and Resi hurried to get her a glass of
water, because she believed she was going to faint. I had not imagined
it was anything like _that_, and Dora certainly had not either. Or she
would never have trembled so. Still I really don’t see why she should
tremble like that. There is no reason to be frightened, one simply need
not marry, and then one need never strip off every stitch, and oh dear,
poor Mademoiselle who is so small and the lieutenant is very tall.
But just think if anyone is as fat as Herr Richter or our landlord. Of
course Herr Richter is at least 50, but last January the landlord had
another little girl, so something _must have happened_. No, I’m sure
it’s best not to marry, for _it_ is really too awful. We did not look
any more for then came the worst, suddenly Dora began to be actually
sick, so that she could hardly get back to our room. If she had not
been able to, everything would have come out. Mother sent for the doctor
directly and he said that Dora was very much overworked; that it was a
good thing she was going away from Vienna in a few days. No girl ought
to study, it does not pay. Then he said to me: “You don’t look up to
much either. What are you so hollow-eyed for?” “I’m so frightened about
Dora,” I said. “Fiddlededee,” said the doctor, “that does not give
anyone black rings round the eyes.” So it must be true that one gets to
look ill when one always has to think about _such_ things. But how can
one help it, and Hella says: It’s awfully interesting to have black
rings under the eyes and men _like_ it.
We were going to make an excursion to-morrow to Kahlenberg and
Hermannskogel, but probably it won’t come off. Its 11 already and I’m
fearfully tired from writing so much; I must go to bed. I do hope I
Shall be able to sleep, but -- -- -- --
June 3rd. Father took Hella and me to Kahlenberg; we enjoyed ourselves
tremendously. After dinner, when Father was reading the paper in the
hotel, we went to pick flowers, and I told Hella all about what we’d
seen on Friday. She was simply speechless, all the more since she had
never heard what Mad. told us about taking off everything. She won’t
marry either, for it’s too disagreeable, indeed too horrid.--The doctor
said too: This perpetual learning is poisonous for young girls _in the
years of development_. If he only knew _what_ we had seen. Hella is
frightfully annoyed that she was not there. She can be jolly glad, I
don’t want to see it a second time, and I shall never forget it all my
life long; what I saw at the front door was nothing to this. Then
Hella went on making jokes and said: “I say, just think if it had
been Viktor.” “Oh, do shut up,” I screamed, and Father thought we were
quarrelling and called out: “You two seem to be having a dispute in the
grand style.” If he’d only known what we were talking about!!! Oswald
has been home since Friday evening; he did not arrive till half past 10.
But he did not come on the excursion with us yesterday, although Father
would have liked him to; he said he would find it much too dull to spend
the day with two “flappers;” that means that we’re not grown up enough
for him and is a piece of infernal cheek especially as regards Hella.
She says she will simply ignore him in future. Since I am his sister
I can’t very well do that, but I shan’t fetch and carry for him as he
would like me to. He’s no right to insult even his sister.
Dora has just said to me: It’s horrible that one has to endure that (you
know what!!! -- -- -- --) when one is married. Resi had told her about
those two before, and that only the Jews do it just like _that_. She
said that other people did not strip quite naked and that perhaps it’s
different in some other ways!! -- -- -- But Mad. implied that it was
just _that_ way, only she did not say anything about the crushing; but
I suppose that’s because of the cruelty of the Jews -- -- --. I’m afraid
every night that I’m going to dream about it, and Dora has dreamed about
it already. She says that whenever she closes her eyes she sees it all
as if it were actually before her.
June 4th. We understand now _what_ Father meant the other day when he
was speaking about Dr. Diller and his wife and said: “But they don’t
suit one another at all.” I thought at the time he only meant that it
looks so absurd for so tiny a woman to go about with a big strong
man. But that’s only a minor thing; the main point is something quite
different!!!! Hella and I look at all couples now who go by arm in arm,
thinking about them from _that_ point of view, and it amuses us so much
as we are going home that we can hardly keep from laughing. But really
it’s no laughing matter, especially for the woman.