We stopped at an open-air café in driving back and drank some beer, and then we returned to Count C.'s and ate ices. Beer and ices are not a nice mixture. Don't try it if you have not already done so.
We saw my collaborator off, and then started ourselves for Vienna. The railway line runs quite close to Duino, so we had one more glimpse of the old castle from the train. There had been a thunder-storm in the afternoon, and the sky was still covered with black clouds. The sea was leaden-coloured and the far horizon blotted out by thick gray mist and rain streaks, but as we flattened our noses against the window-pane to "take a last fond look," one bright ray from the setting sun shone through the darkness of the thunder-clouds. It brightened the old gray walls of the castle, and bathed them in rosy light; it lingered lovingly round the great Roman tower, and lit up the red and white Hohenlohe banner that floated in the breeze.
And so I saw Duino for the last time.
CHAPTER XII
ON NOTHING AT ALL
Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir.
My collaborator is to blame for this chapter. She found that when the eleven chapters already written and the Introduction and the Conclusion (reckoning the two last as chapters) were added together, the result would be thirteen. And so I am to write one more, and there is nothing to write about. I feel myself to be a martyr offered up on the altar of superstition.
Superstition is all very well, but I think it can be carried too far. I was a victim to this fatal number 13 only the other day. I came in to lunch rather late, and was just going to sit down, when the "Energetic Lady" jumped up from the table with a howl of despair, taking her plate with her, and began to eat at a sideboard. She had seen that when I sat down there would be thirteen at table. Of course, I could not allow her to be made uncomfortable, so the result was that I had to go and sit at a little table by myself, and eat my lunch in lonely misery. I have known people too (I will not mention names) who would not start on a journey, or arrive at a place—in fact, I believe they absolutely do nothing—on the thirteenth of the month. I am rather superstitious myself about some things. I confess I always throw three grains of salt over my left shoulder if I should by any chance spill some; also I always tap my first and fourth fingers on something wooden, and say "unberufen" when I have made some such remark as "I have not had toothache for more than three years"; and then I invariably take off my hat to a single magpie. But then you cannot call these things superstitions—they are merely the force of habit.