A Young Girl's Diary

by Unknown

Now I’ve got something much more important to tell you. But you must promise me dirst that you will tear up my letter directly you have read it. Otherwise please send it back to me unread.

Just fancy. Here in B. there is a young married woman living with her mother and her cousin, a girl who is studying medicine; they are Poles and I have always had an enthusiastic admiration for the Poles. The young wife has got a divorce from her husband, for she was infected by him on the wedding night. Of course you remember what being infected is. But really it is something quite different from what we imagined. Because of that she got a frightful eruption all over her body and her face, and most likely all her hair will fall out; is it not frightful? Her cousin, the medical student, who is apparently very poor, is there to nurse her. Our servant Rosa told me about it, she heard of it from the housemaid where they have rooms. As you know, one can’t talk to Lizzi about anything of that kind, and so I did not learn any more; but the other day, when I went to buy some picture postcards, I met the three ladies. The young wife was wearing a very thick veil, so that one could see nothing. They were sitting on a bench in the garden in front of their house, and I bowed in passing, on the way back. They bowed, and smiled in a friendly way. In the afternoon I had to lie down, for I was feeling very bad because of . . . .!! Then I suddenly heard some people talking on the veranda just outside my window—the veranda runs all round the house. At first I saw shadows passing, and then they sat down outside. I recognised the soft voice of the Polish student directly, and I heard her say to the wife of the mayor of J.: “Yes, my unfortunate cousin’s experience has been a terrible one; that is because people sell girls like merchandise, without asking them, and without their having the least idea what they are in for.” I got up at once and sat down close to the window behind the curtain so that I could hear everything. The mayor’s wife said: “Yes, it’s horrible what one has to go through when one is married. My husband is not one of that sort but — — —” And then I could not understand what she went on to say I overheard this conversation on Thursday. But that’s not all I have to tell you. Of course my first thought was, if only I could have a talk with her; for she spoke about enlightenment and although we are both of us already very much enlightened, still, as a medical student, she must know a great deal more than we do, so that we can learn from her. And since she said that girls ought not to be allowed to run blindly into marriage, I thought she would probably tell me a little if I went cautiously to work. There was a word which she and the mayor’s wife used more than once, segsual and I don’t know what it means, and I’m sure you don’t know either, darling Rita. She said something about segsual intimacies; of course when people talk about intimacies, one knows it has a meaning, but what on earth does segsual mean? It must mean something, since it is used with intimacy. Well, let me get on. On Saturday there was a party, and the medical student came, and I left my Alpine Songs lying on the piano, and somebody picked it up and turned over the pages, and the word went round that the person to whom it belonged must sing something. At first I did not let on, but went out for a moment, and then came back saying: “I’m looking for my music book, I left it lying about somewhere.” There was a general shout, and everyone said: “We’ve agreed that the person to whom that book belongs has got to sing.” Now I knew that Fraulein Karwinska had accompanied the singing on such evenings before. So I said: “I shall be delighted to sing, provided Fraulein K. will accompany me, For you gentlemen play too loud for my voice.” Great laughter, but I had got what I wanted. We were introduced, and I thought to myself: You will soon improve the acquaintance. On Sunday for once in a way I got up quite early, at half past 6, for Fraulein K. can only go out walking early in the morning since she spends the whole day with her cousin. She sits near the Luisenquelle, so I went there with a book, and as soon as she came I jumped up, said “good-morning,” and went on: “I’m afraid I’ve taken possession of your bench.” “Not at all,” she said, “Do you study on Sundays?” “Oh no, this is only light reading,” I answered, and I made haste to sit on the book, for in my hurry I had not noticed what it was. But luck was with me. She sat down beside me and said: “What is it you are reading that you hide so anxiously? I suppose it’s something that your mother must not know about.” “Oh no,” said I, “we have not brought any such books to the country with us.” “I take it that means that you do manage to get them when you are in town?” “Goodness me, one must try and learn a little about life; and since no one will ever tell one anything, one looks about for oneself to see if one can find anything in a book.” “In the encyclopedia, I suppose?” “No, that’s no good, for one can’t always find the truth there.” She burst out laughing and said: “What sort of truth do you want?” “I think you can imagine very well what sort of things I want to know.” Of course one can speak more plainly to a medical student than one can to other girls, and she was not in the least disgusted or angry but said: “Yes, it’s the same struggle everywhere.” Then I made use of your favourite phrase and said: “Struggle, what do you mean? What I really want to know about is being infected.” Then she flushed up and said: “Who’s been talking to you about that? It seems to me that the whole town is chattering about my unhappy cousin. You must see that I can’t tell you that.” But I answered: “If you don’t, who will? You study medicine, and are seeing and talking about such things all day.” “No, no, my dear child (you can imagine how furious that made me), you are still much too young for that sort of thing.” What do you think of that, we are too young at 14 1/2, it’s utterly absurd. I expect that really her studies have not gone very far, and she would not admit it. Anyhow, I stood up, and said: “I must not disturb you any longer,” and bowed and went away; but I thought to myself: “A fig for her and her studies; fine sort of a doctor she’ll make!” What do you think about it all? We shall still have to trust to the encyclopedia, and after all a lot of what we can learn there is all right, and luckily we know most things except the word segsual. Next winter I expect we shall find it easier than we used to to get to the bookcase in your house. I don’t bow to the silly idiot any more.

But darling Rita, with regard to the “innocent child,” I don’t want to influence you in any way, and I shan’t be angry with you for preferring an unworthy person to me!!! Faithless though you are, I send you half a million kisses, your ever faithful friend, H. P.S. I have been 4 days writing this letter; tear it up, whatever you do!!!

Now that I have copied the letter, I really can’t see why Hella wants me to tear it up. There’s nothing so very dreadful in it. But there is one thing I shan’t be able to do for Hella, to help her in looking up things in the encyclopedia. I think I should always feel that Mother would suddenly come in and stand behind us. No, I simply can’t do it.

August 13th. Through that stupid copying I have been prevented writing about my own affairs, although they are far more important. Last Wednesday the Society for the Preservation of Natural Beauties had arranged a great excursion to Inner-Lahn in breaks. Dora did not want to go at first, but Father said that if it would give us pleasure, he would very much like to go with us, and Mother would be only too delighted to see that we were enjoying something once more. And two days before the excursion Dora finally decided that she would like to go; I knew why at once; she thought that by that time all the places would have been taken, and that we should have been told: Very sorry, no more room. But luckily she had made a great mistake. For the secretary said: With pleasure; how many places shall I reserve? and so we said: 7; namely, Father, Dora, and I, Aunt Alma (unfortunately), Marina (very unfortunately), and the two boys (no less unfortunately). “That will need an extra conveyance,” replied the secretary, and we thought we should make a family party. But it was not so: Next Dora sat a gentleman whom I had seen once or twice before, and he paid her a tremendous amount of attention. Besides that there were 2 strange gentlemen, Frau Bang and her 2 daughters and her son, who is not quite all there; opposite was Hero Siegfried, a young lady who is I believe going on the stage, the two Weiner girls and their Mother (notwithstanding!!!), then I, and afterwards Marina, Father, Aunt Alma, and the two boys opposite. I don’t know who made up the other break-loads. At 6 in the morning we all met outside the school, for the schoolmaster acted as our guide. I did not know before that he has two daughters and a son who has matriculated this year. First of all they held a great review, and the gentlemen fortified themselves with a nip and so did some of the ladies; I did not, for I hate the way in which a liqueur burns one’s throat so that every one, at any rate girls and ladies, make such faces when they are drinking, that is why I never drink liqueur. I did not care much about the drive out, for it was very cold and windy, most of us had red noses and blue lips; I kept on biting my lips to keep them red, for one looks simply hideous when one’s lips are white or blue, I noticed that in Dora when we were skating last winter. Father went only on our account, and Aunt Dora stayed at home so that Aunt Alma could go. Marina wears “snails” now, the sight of her is enough to give one fits. Dora gets on with her quite well, which is more than I can say for myself. Only when we got out aid I notice that Siegfried’s sister, Fraulein Hulda, had been sitting next the aspiring actress. She is awfully nice, and many, many years ago she must have been very pretty; she has such soft brown eyes, and her hair is the same colour as her brother’s; but he has glorious blue eyes, which get quite black when he is angry, as he was when he was talking about his father. I should tremble before him in his wrath. He is so tall that I only come up to his shoulder. Father calls him the red tapeworm; but that’s really not fair. He is very broad but so thin. In Unter-Toifen we stopped for breakfast, eating the food we had brought with us; about half an hour; then the schoolmaster hurried us all away, for we had quite 10 miles to walk. The two boys made a party with other boys, and we five girls, we 2, the 2 Weiners, and Marina, led the way. Aunt Alma walked with a clergyman’s wife from Hildesheim, or whatever it was called, and with the schoolmaster’s wife. It was awfully dull at first, so that I began to be sorry that I had begged Father to let us go. But after we had gone a few miles the schoolmaster’s son and three bright young fellows came along and walked with us. Then we had such fun that we could hardly walk for laughing, and the elders had continually to drive us on. Marina was quite unrestrained, I could never have believed that she could be so jolly. One of the schoolmaster’s daughters fell down, and some one pulled her out of the brook into which she had slid because she was laughing so much. I really don’t know what time we got to Inner-Lahn, for we were enjoying ourselves so much. Dinner had been ordered ready for us, and we were all frantically hungry. We laughed without stopping, for we had all sat down just as we had come in, although Aunt Alma did not want us to at first. But she was outvoted. I was especially pleased to show Hero Siegfried that I could amuse myself very well without him, for he had frozen on to the aspiring actress, or she had frozen on to him—I don’t know which, or at least I did not know then! Since we were sitting all mixed up everyone had to pay for himself, and Father said next day we had spent a perfect fortune; but that was not in the hotel, it happened later, when we were buying mementoes. And I think Dora gave Marina 3 crowns, so that she could buy some things too. But Dora never lets on about anything of that sort. I must say I like her character better and better; in those ways she is very like Mother. Well, our purchases were all packed into two or three rucksacks, and were kept for a raffle in Unter-Toifen on the way back. I must have spent at least 7 crowns, for Father had given each of us 5 crowns before we started, and I still had a lot of my August pocket money left, and now I’ve got only 40 hellers. After we had had dinner and bought the things we lay about in the forest or walked about in couples. I had curled myself up for a nap when some one came up behind me, and when I sat up this someone put his hands over my eyes and said: “The Mountain Spirit.” And I recognised his hands instantly, and said: “Hero Siegfried!” Then he laughed like anything and sat down beside me and said: “You were enjoying yourself so much this morning that you had not even a glance to spare for me.” “Contrariwise (I’ve got that from Dora), I never foist myself on anyone, and never hang around anyone’s neck.” Then he wanted to put his arm round my waist (and probably, most probably, he would have kissed me), but I sprang to my feet and called Dora or rather Thea, for before the gentlemen we pretend that we never call one another anything but Thea and Rita. Father says that that is awfully silly, and no longer suitable for Dora (but of course it was alright for me!), but we keep to our arrangement. Then he raised my hand to his lips and said: “Don’t call!” But Dora came up, and with her the gentleman with the pincenez, who is a doctor of law belonging to the District Court of Innsbruck, and Marina and one of the young men, and I asked, “I say, when are we going to have tea?” “Just fancy, she is hungry again already,” they all said, and laughed like anything. And Dora looked frightfully happy. She was wearing an edelweiss buttonhole which she had not been wearing before; in the evening she told me that Dr. P. had given it her. If possible he is even taller than Hero Siegfried, for Dora is taller than I am and her head only comes up to his ear. At 3 o’clock the last party came up to the belvedere, we had got there earlier. The view was lovely. But I must say I can enjoy a fine view much better when I am alone, that is with Father or quite a few persons; it is no good when there’s such a crowd; each additional person seems to take something more away. In a lovely place and at the cemetery one must be alone. For a beautiful view usually makes one feel frightfully sad, and one ought not to have been laughing so much just before, or laugh directly afterwards. If I were alone in Inner-Lahn I’m sure I should become melancholy, for it is so gloriously beautiful there.

At 4 o’clock, after tea, we started back, for the schoolmaster thought the descent would not take more than two hours and a half, but we needed more than three. For we were all very tired, and a great many of them had sore feet, especially Aunt Alma! We had said before, that it would be too much for Aunt; but she had to come with us to take care of Marina, though Marina enjoyed herself extremely with a Herr Furtner, who is studying mining like Oswald, not in Leoben but in Germany. One does not really find out what a girl is like until one sees how she behaves with a man, or what she is like when one talks to her about certain things; as for the last, of course that’s impossible with Marina since the experience we had. But anyhow she is nicer than one would have thought at first sight. It was lovely on the way home. Driving back from Unter-Toifen we sat quite differently.

In our break, instead of the Weiners, there were three students from Munich, they were awfully nice, and we sang all the songs we knew; especially “Hoch vom Dachstein, wo der Aar nur haust,” and “Forelle” and “Wo mein Schatz ist,” were lovely, and the people in two different breaks sang together. And then some of them sang some Alpine songs and yodelled till the hills echoed. Two or three of the men in the third break were rather tipsy and Hero Siegfried!! was one of them. Aunt Alma had a frightful headache; it was utterly idiotic for her to come, and we did not know yet what was still to happen. At every house from which a girl had come there was a serenade. And next evening there was to be a great raffle of the mementoes we had bought, but Father would not let us go to that.

August 14th. It is desperately dull. I don’t know what on earth to do, so I am writing my diary. Besides, I have not written about the row yet. The next afternoon Aunt Alma came just as we were going out and said to Father: Ernst, please let me have a word with you. Now we all know Aunt Alma’s let me have a word with you. In plain language it means: I’m going to make a scene. She began: “Ernst, you know I never like these big parties with a lot of strangers, for no good can come of them. Still, I made up my mind to go for the sake of the children, and chiefly for the sake of your motherless children. (Nobody asked her to; and Aunt Dora had to stay at home on her account.) Do you know what sort of people were in our company? That impudent young student whom Gretel is always running after (did you ever hear anything like it! I should like to know when I ran after him; I suppose in the wood I put my arm round his waist, and I suppose that it was I who began the acquaintance on my birthday) and that girl who’s training for the stage did not come home after the excursion till the night was half over. God knows where they were! They were certainly no cleaner when they got home. (Naturally, for where could they have had a wash.) His father gave the young blackguard a fine talking to, but of course the girl’s mother takes her side. It would positively kill me to think of my Marina doing anything of the kind.” Father was able to get a word in at last: “But my dear Alma, what has all this to do with my girls? As far as I know these two people weren’t in our break, isn’t that so girls?” I was glad that Father turned to us, and I said: “Siegfried Sch. and the girl drove in the fourth break, I saw them getting in. And it was toute meme chause where he drove and with whom he was driving.” (Of course that’s not true, but I said it was because of Aunt.) “Such language and such a tone to your own Father!” Directly she said that Father was in such a passion as I have never seen him in before. “My dear Alma, I really must beg you not to interfere with my educational methods, any more than I ever attempt to interfere in your affairs.” Father said this quite quietly, but he was simply white with rage, and Dora told me afterwards that I was quite white too, also from rage of course. Aunt Alma said: “I don’t want to prophesy evil, but the future will show who is right Goodbye.” As soon as she had gone Dora and I rushed to Father and said: “Please Father, don’t be so frightfully angry; there’s no reason why you should.” And Father was awfully sweet and said: “I know quite well that I can trust you; you are my Berta’s children.” And then I simply could not contain myself, and I said: “No, Father, I really did flirt with Siegfried, and in the wood he put his arm round my waist; but I did not let him kiss me, I give you my word I did not. And if you want me to I’ll promise never to speak to him again.” And then Father said: “Really, Gretel, you have plenty of time yet for such affairs, and even if that red-haired rascal plays the gallant with you, he is only making himself a laughing-stock. And you don’t want that, do you, little witch?” Then I threw my arms round Father and promised him on my word of honour that I would never speak to Siegfried again. For it really distresses me very much that he should make himself ridiculous; and that he should go out walking half the night with that girl; such shamelessness!

We were so much upset that we did not go for a walk, and of course did not go to the raffle. But I’m frightfully sorry about those things I paid 7 crowns for. I do hope he did not win any of them.

August 15th. Just a few words more. Early this morning, as I was going to breakfast, in the corridor I met S. (it’s a good thing that is the initial both of his name and of Strick [rascal] as Father called him) and he said: “Good morning, Fraulein Gretchen. Why weren’t you at the raffle? Hadn’t you any share?”—“Oh yes, I had bought 7 crowns worth for it, but I had no fancy for the company I should meet.” — — Why, what has taken you all of a sudden? They were the same people as at the excursion! — — — “Precisely for that reason,” said I, and passed on. I think I gave him what for, for he simply must have understood. Father is really quite right, and it is not at all nice to abuse one’s parents to strangers as he is always doing. I could not say a word against my parents to anyone, although I’m often frightfully angry with them; of course not about Mother, for she is dead. But not even about Father; I would rather choke down the greatest injustice. For when we had that trouble with Aunt Alma about Marina, I was really not in the least to blame, but he scolded me so, even while Aunt Alma was there, so that I can never forget it. But still, to a stranger, to some one whom I had only just got to know, I would never say a word against anyone in our family; though I used to get on so badly with Dora, I never said much against her even to Hella; at most that she was deceitful, and that really used to be so, though she seldom is now.