The clockmaker shook his head. It still weighed on his mind that he and the builder could never understand each other. He was proud of his brother. He felt his will, his strength, but that was wellnigh all he knew about him. Had he rejoiced, had he suffered in life? Had he ever loved, or did he have no love for anybody?... He thought of Barbara, his brother’s dead wife, whom Brother Christopher had snatched from him and taken to the altar, because he did not know that he, Sebastian, had loved her silently for a long time. His forehead went up in many wrinkles.... We human beings trample our fellow creatures under our feet because we don’t know them.
Anne took his hand and wrung it slowly. “Do tell me a story, do!”
Inside, in front of the courtyard window, the builder turned the pages of an old book.
Uncle Sebastian sat down and lifted Anne into his lap. Casting occasional glances on his brother’s face, as if he were reading in it, he began to tell his story.
“It happened a long, long time ago, even before I was born, in the time of the Turkish Pasha’s rule. A gay city it was then, was Buda. In every street shops dealing in masks and fancy dresses were opened. When Carnival time came, folk used to walk a-singing in the streets of the castle; old ones, young ones, in gaudy fancy dress, with little iron lamps—such a crazy procession! The fun only stopped at the dawn of Ash-Wednesday. All fancy dress shops were closed and bolted. All were locked, except one in Fortune’s Street which remained open even after Ash-Wednesday—all the year round.
“Singly, secretly, people went to visit it, at night, when the castle gates had been closed and the fires at the street corners put out. Among the buyers were some that had haughty faces. These bought themselves humble-looking masks. The cruel men bought kind ones, godless men pious ones, the stupid clever ones, the clever simple ones. But the greatest number were those who suffered and they bought masks which showed a laughing face. That is what happened. It is a true story,” growled Uncle Sebastian, “and it is just as true that those who once put a mask on never took it off again. Only on rare occasions did it fall off their faces, on dark nights when they were quite alone, or when they loved, or when they saw money....”
Again he looked at his brother’s face and then continued in a whisper:
“The business flourished. Kings, princes, beautiful princesses, priests, soldiers, burghers, everybody, even the Town Councillors, went to the shop. Its reputation had even spread down to the lower town. People from the other side of the Danube came too. After a time, the whole world wore masks. Nobody talked about it but all wore them and the people forgot each other’s real faces. Nobody knows them any more. Nobody....”
Uncle Sebastian didn’t tell any more and in the great silence the ticking of the clocks became loud.
“I didn’t like that story,” said Anne, “tell me about naughty children and fairies. That’s prettier....”