“Two prentice lads once wandered
To strange lands far away.”
Suddenly the torpor of her brain was dispelled. Reality assumed its merciless shape in her conscience. She had to leave here, everything would be different.... Unchecked tears flowed down her cheeks.
She had no courage to pack the contents of the drawers, nor the heart to have the open boxes nailed down. Anything that seemed final filled her with horror.
Somewhere a door creaked. Anne woke to her helplessness. She pretended to hurry and strained her efforts to hide her feelings before those she loved.
The boys were preparing for their examinations. Thomas noticed nothing. In the egotism of his own happiness he passed blindly beside Anne’s shy, wordless pain. He was pleased with everything, only his wife’s apathy irked him.
A half-opened drawer, an empty cupboard, could stop Anne for hours. In her poor tortured brain memories alone had room. Everything spoke of the past. Even in the attics she only met with memories.
Uncle Sebastian’s shaky winged armchair; the grimy engravings of Fischer von Erlach and Mansard; the out of date coloured map of Pest-Buda.... She took the map to the light of the attic window. For a long time she contemplated the lines of the short crooked streets, the Danube painted blue, the small vessels of the boat-bridge, the small churches, the many empty building plots.
She could not find her way on the map. Over her childhood’s memories a new big city had risen, had swallowed in its growth the old streets, removed the markets, spread beyond the limits of the tattered map, spread even beyond the cold, confident dreams of Ulwing the builder.
Wearily Anne went down the stairs and evening found her again immobile in front of an open cupboard. She sat on the ground and on her knee lay an old shrunken cigar case, embroidered with beads....