A Young Girl's Diary

by Unknown

Here is something awfully interesting: Herr von Kraics came yesterday from Radufalva, his best friend left him the Radufalva estate out of gratitude, because 8 years ago he gave up his fiancee with whom the friend was in love. It’s true, Colonel Bruckner says that K. is a wretched milksop; but I don’t think so at all; he has such fiery eyes, and looks a real Hungarian nobleman. Hella says that he used to run himself frantically into debt, because every six months he had an intimacy with some new woman; and all the presents he gave reduced him almost to beggary. Still, it’s difficult to believe that, for however fond a woman may be of flowers and sweets, one does not quite see why that should reduce anyone to beggary. Before we went to sleep last night Hella told me that Lajos had already been “infected” more or less; she says there is not an officer who has not got venereal disease and that is really what makes them so frightfully interesting. Then I told her what Ada had told me about the actor in St. P. But Hella said: I doubt if that’s all true; of course it is more likely since he was an actor, and especially since he was in the army at one time, but generally speaking civilians are wonderfully healthy!!! And she could not stand that in her husband. Every officer has lived frantically; that’s a polite phrase for having had venereal disease, and she would never marry a man who had not lived. Most girls, especially when they get a little older; want the very opposite! and then it suddenly occurred to me that that was probably the real reason why Dora bade farewell to Lieutenant R., and not the friendship with Mother; it is really awfully funny, and no one would have thought it of her. Hella’s father thinks me charming; he is really awfully nice. Hella’s uncle hardly ever says anything, and when he does speak he is difficult to understand; Hella’s father says that his sister-in-law wears the breeches. That would never do for me; the man must be the master. “But not too much so” says Hella. She always gets cross when her father says that about wearing breeches. I got an awful start yesterday; we went out on the veranda because we heard the boys talking, and found Hella’s great uncle lying there on an invalid couch. She told me about him once, that he’s quite off his head, not really paralysed but only pretends to be. Hella is terribly afraid of him, because long ago, when she was only 9 or 10 years old, he wanted to give her a thrashing. But her uncle came in, and then he let her go. She says he was only humbugging, but she is awfully afraid of him all the same. He keeps his room, and he has a male attendant, because no nurse can manage him. He ought really to be in an asylum but there is no high class asylum in Hungary.

September 9th. There was a frightful rumpus this morning; the great uncle, the people here call him “kutya mog” or however they spell it, and it means mad dog, well, the great uncle spied in on us. He can walk with a stick, our room is on the ground floor, and he came and planted himself in front of the window when Hella was washing and I was just getting out of bed. Then Hella’s father came and made a tremendous row and the uncle swore horribly in Hungarian. Before dinner we overheard Hella’s father say to Aunt Olga: “They would be dainty morsels for that old swine, those innocent children.” We did laugh so, we and innocent children!!! What our fathers really think of us; we innocent!!! At dinner we did not dare look at one another or we should have exploded. Afterwards Hella said to me: “I say, do you know that we have the same name day?” And when I said: “What do you mean, it seems to me you must have gone dotty this morning,” she laughed like anything and said: “Don’t you see, December 27th, Holy Innocents’ Day!” Oh it did tickle me. She knew that date although she’s a Protestant because December 27th is Marina’s birthday, and in our letters we used to speak of that deceitful cat as “The Innocent.”

The three boys and I have begun to use “Du” to one another, at supper yesterday Hella’s father said to Erno: “You seem frightfully ceremonious still, can’t you make up your minds to drop the ‘Sie?’” So we clinked glasses, and afterwards when Jeno and I were standing at the window admiring the moon, he said: “You Margot, that was not a real pledge of good-fellowship, we must kiss one another for that; hurry up, before anyone comes,” and before I could say No he had given me a kiss. After all it was all right as it was Jeno, but it would not have done with Lajos, for it would have been horrid because of Hella, or Ilonka as they call her here.

Hella has just told me that they saw us kissing one another, and Lajos said: “Look Ilonka, they are setting us a good example.” We are so awfully happy here. It’s such a pity that on the 16th Jeno and Lajos have got to leave for the Academy, where Jeno is to enter and Lajos is in his third year: Erno, the least interesting of the three, is staying till October. But that is always the way of life, beautiful things pass and the dull ones remain. We go out boating every day, yesterday and to-day by moonlight. The boys make the boat rock so frightfully that we are always terrified that it will upset. And then they say: “You have your fate in your own hands; buy your freedom and you will be as safe as in Abraham’s bosom.”

September 12th. The great uncle hates us since what happened the other day; whenever he sees us he threatens us with his stick, and though we are not really afraid, because he can’t do anything to us, still it’s rather creepy. One thinks of all sorts of things, stories and sagas one has read. That is the only thing I don’t quite like here. But we are leaving on the 18th. Of course Lajos and Jeno will often come to see the Bruckners; I’m awfully glad. I don’t know why, I always fancied that they could only speak Magyar; but that is not so at all, though they always speak it at home when they are alone. Hella told me to-day for the first time that all the flowers on the table by her bed one Sunday in hospital had been sent by Lajos; and she did not wish to tell me at that time because he wished her to keep it a secret. This has made me rather angry, for I see that I have been much franker with her than she has been with me.

September 16th. The boys left to-day, and we stayed up till midnight last night. We had been to N— K—, I don’t know how to spell these Hungarian names, and we did not get back till half past 11. It was lovely. But it seems all the sadder to-day, especially as it is raining as well. It’s the first time it’s rained since I came. Partings are horrid, especially for the ones left behind; the others are going to new scenes anyhow. But for the people left behind everything is hatefully dull and quiet. In the afternoon Hella and I went into Jeno’s and Lajos’ room, it had not been tidied up yet and was in a frightful mess. Then Hella suddenly began sobbing violently, and she flung herself on Lajos’ bed and kissed the pillow. That is how she loves him! I’m sure that is the way Mad. loves the lieutenant, but Dora is simply incapable of such love, and then she can talk of her true and intimate friendship with Mother. Hella says she has always been in love with Lajos, but that her eyes were first opened when she saw Jeno and me going about together and talking to one another. Now she will love Lajos for evermore. Next year they will probably get engaged, she can’t be engaged till she is 14 for her parents would not allow it. It is for her sake that he is going into the Hussars because she likes the Hussars best. They all live frightfully hard, and are tremendously smart.

September 21st. Since Saturday we have been back In Vienna, and Father, Mother, and Dora came back from Rodaun on Thursday. Dora really is too funny; since Ada stayed with us and walked in her sleep Dora is afraid she has been infected. She does not seem to know what the word really means! And while I was away she slept with Mother, and Father slept in our room, because she was afraid to sleep alone. Of course no one takes to walking in their sleep simply from sleeping alone, but that was only a pretext; Dora has never been very courageous, in fact she is rather a coward, and she was simply afraid to sleep alone. If Father had been afraid too, I suppose I should have had to come back post-haste, and if I had been afraid to travel alone, and there had been no one to come with me, that would have been a pretty state of affairs. I told them so. Father laughed like anything at my “combinations,” and Dora got in a frightful wax. She is just as stupid and conceited as she was before she fell in love. So Hella is right when she says: Love enobles [veredelt]. Erno made a rotten joke about that when he heard Hella say it once. He said: “You’ve made a slip of the tongue, you meant to say: Love makes fools of people [vereselt].” Of course that’s because he’s not in love with anyone.

September 22nd. School began again to-day. Frau Doktor M. is perfectly fascinating, she looks splendid and she said the same to both of us. Thank goodness she’s the head of our class again. In French we have a new mistress Frau Doktor Dunker, she is perfectly hideous, covered with pimples, a thing I simply can’t stand in any one; Hella says we must be careful never to let her handle our books; if she does we might catch them. In Maths and Physics we have another new mistress, she is a Doktor too, and she speaks so fast that none of us can understand her; but she looks frightfully clever, although she is very small. We call her “Nutling” because she has such a tiny little head and such lovely light-brown eyes. Otherwise the staff is the same as last year, and there are a few new girls and some have left, but only ones we did not know intimately. This is Franke’s last year at the Lyz., she will be 16 in April and has a splendid figure. Her worst enemy must admit that. Dora is having English lessons from the matron, and she is awfully pleased about it, for she is one of her favourites and it will help her too in her matriculation.

September 25th. Yesterday and the day before Mother was so ill that the doctor had to be sent for at half past 10 at night. Thank goodness she is better now. But on such days I simply can’t write a word in my diary; I feel as if I oughtn’t to. And the days seem everlasting, for nobody talks much, and it’s awful at mealtimes. Mother was up again to-day, lying on the sofa.

September 29th. I’ve had such an awful toothache since the day before yesterday. Dora says it’s only an ache for a gold filling like Frau Doktor M.‘s. Of course that’s absurd; for first of all, surely I ought to know whether my own tooth hurts or not, and secondly the dentist says that the tooth really is decayed. I have to go every other day and I can’t say I enjoy it. At the same time, this year we have such a frightful lot to learn at school. The Nutling is really very nice, if one could only understand better what she says, but she talks at such a rate that in the Fifth, where she teaches too, they call her Waterfall. Nobody has ever given Frau Doktor M. a nickname, not even an endearing one. The only one that could possibly be given to her is Angel, and that could not be a real name, it’s quite unmeaning. In the drawing class we are going to draw from still life, and, best of all, animal studies too, I am so delighted.