December 20th. To-day was the last German lesson before Christmas, and not a word more has been said about our affair. Hella has proved splendidly right. Even Verbenowitsch, who curries favour with every member of the staff, has congratulated her, and so has Hammer, who is a newcomer and did not know Frau Doktor M. By the way, at 1 o’clock the other day we met Franke; she goes now to a school of dramatic art, and says that the whole tone of the place is utterly different, she is so glad to have done with the High School. She had heard of the affair with Prof. F. and she congratulated us upon our strength of character, especially Hella of course. She says that the matter is common talk in all the High Schools of Vienna, at least she heard of it from a girl at the High School for the Daughters of Civil Servants, a girl whose sister is at the School of Dramatic Art. She is very happy there, but she is annoyed that such an institution should still be called a school; it’s not a school in the least; we would be astonished to see how free they all are. She is very pretty and has even more figure than she used to have. She speaks very prettily too, but rather too loudly, so that everyone turned round to look at us. She hopes that she will be able to invite us to see her debut in one year!!! I should never be able to stand on a stage before a lot of strangers, I know I would never be able to get a word out.
December 21st. Hella is awfully unlucky. The day before yesterday she got such bad influenza and sore throat that she can’t go to Cracow. She says she is born to ill luck; this is the second Christmas that has been spoiled, two years ago the appendicitis operation, and now this wretched influenza. She hopes her mother will come to Vienna, but if so her father will be left quite alone. And how on earth shall we get on, Christmas without Mother, the first Christmas without Mother. I simply don’t dare to think of it, for if I did it would make me cry. Dora says too that it can’t be a proper Christmas without Mother. I wonder what Father will say when he sees Mother’s portrait. I do hope the frame will be ready to-morrow. Hella is especially unhappy because she is not able to see Lajos. Besides, she is madly in love at the same time with a lieutenant of dragoons whom we meet every day and who is a count, and he is madly in love with her. He knows that her father is a general, for when her father went to kiss the Emperor’s hand he took Hella part of the way with him in the motor, and she was introduced to the lieutenant then. So now he salutes her when they meet. He is tremendously tall and looks fearfully aristocratic. But what annoys me with Hella is that she invariably denies it when she is in love with anyone. I always tell her, or if she notices anything I don’t deny it. What’s the sense of it between friends? for example, the year before last she was certainly in love with the young doctor in the hospital. And in September when we came back from Theben with that magnificent lieutenant in the flying corps, I made no secret of the fact that I was frantically in love with him. But she did not believe me, and said: That is not real love, when people don’t see one another for months and flirt with others between whiles. That was aimed at Hero Siegfried. Goodness me, at him!! it’s really too absurd.
December 22nd. I am so delighted, Frau Doktor M., at least she is Frau Professor Theyer now, has written to me. I had sent her Christmas good wishes, and she sent a line to thank me, and at the same time she wished me a happy New Year, she took the lead in this; it was heavenly. I was frightfully annoyed because Dora said that she had done it only to save herself the trouble of writing again; I’m sure that’s not true. Dora always says things like that simply to annoy me. But her sweet, her divine letter, I carry it about with me wherever I go, and her photograph too. She sent Hella only a card, naturally, for that was all Hella had sent her. I can quite well fancy Frau Doktor M. as a stepmother, that is, not quite well, but better than anyone else. She wrote so sweetly about Mother, saying that of course I should find this Christmas less happy than usual. She is certainly right there. We can none of us feel as if the day after to-morrow is to be Christmas Eve. The only thing that I really enjoy thinking of is the way Father will stare when he sees the portrait. But really in the first years after such a loss one ought not to keep Christmas, for on such days one feels one’s sadness more than ever.
December 23rd. I have still a frightful lot to do for Christmas, but I must write to-day. There was a ring at the front door this morning at about half past 11. I thought it must be Hella come to fetch me, that she must be all right again, so I rushed out, tore the door open, prepared to greet Hella, and then I was simply kerblunxed, for there was a gentleman standing who asked most politely: Is anyone at home? I knew him in a moment, it was that Dr. Pruckmuller from Fieberbr. Meanwhile Dora had opened the drawing-room door, and now came the great proof of deceitfulness: She was not in the least surprised, but said: “Ah, Dr. Pruckmuller, I am so glad you have kept your word.” So it was plain that he had promised her to come, and I am practically sure she knew he was coming to-day, for she was wearing her best black silk apron with the insertions, such as we only wear when visitors are expected. What a humbug she is! So I went into the drawing-room too. Then Aunt Dora came in and asked him to supper this evening. Then he went away. All the time he had not said a word to me, it seemed as if he had not even noticed that there was such a person as me in the world Not until he was actually leaving did he say: “Well; Fraulein, how are you?” “Oh well,” said I, “I’m much as anyone can expect to be so soon after Mother’s death.” Dora got as red as fire, for she understood. I shall know how to treat him if he becomes my brother-in-law. But that may be a long way off; for he lives in Innsbruck, and Father is not likely to allow Dora to marry away to Innsbruck. At dinner I hardly said a word, I was so enraged at this deceitfulness. But there is more to come. At 7, or whatever time it was, Dr. Pruckmuller turned up. Dora appeared in a white blouse with a black bow, and had remained in her room till the last minute so that I might not know what she was wearing. For I had believed she would wear her black dress with the insertions, and so I was wearing mine. Oh well, that did not matter. At supper he talked all the time to Dora, so I purposely talked to Oswald. Then he said that on March 1st he was going to be transferred to Vienna. Once more Dora was not in the least astonished, so she must have known all about it! But now I remember quite well that in October the postman handed me a letter for her with the Innsbruck postmark. So she was corresponding with him openly the whole time, less than 6 months after Mother’s death. It really is too bad! But when I was chattering about the country, she kicked me under the table as a hint not to laugh so frightfully. And when my brother-in-law in spe, oh how it does make me laugh, two or three years ago, in Goisern I think it was, we used to call Dora Inspe, because she had said of Robert Warth and me: The bridal pair in spe! And now she is in the same position. When he went away in the evening I was trembling lest Father should invite him to the Christmas tree, but thank goodness when Father asked: “What are you doing with yourself to-morrow,” he answered: “To-morrow I am spending the day with my sister’s family, she is married to a captain out Wieden way.” Thank goodness that came to nothing, for we are not at all in the mood for visitors, especially the first Christmas without Mother. And if she knew — — — I wish I knew what really happens to the soul. Of course I gave up believing in Heaven long ago; but the soul must go somewhere. There are so many riddles, and they make one so unhappy; in a newspaper feuilleton the other day I saw the title of a chapter: The Riddle of Love. But this riddle does not make people sad, as one can see by Dora. Anyhow, all girls, that is all elder sisters, seem alike in this respect. I remember what Hella told me about Lizzi’s engagement. It is true, she had first made his acquaintance in London, not at home; but there was just the same deceitfulness. What on earth does it mean? Would it not be much more kindly and reasonable to tell your sister everything? Otherwise how can anyone expect one to be an ally. Oh well, I don’t care, I’m not going to let my Christmas Eve be disturbed by a thing like that; if one can call it a Christmas Eve at all. On Boxing Day, when he is to spend the evening here, I shall tell Hella that I want to come to her and her grandmother. After all, I am glad she has stayed in Vienna.
December 25th. Christmas Eve was very melancholy. We all three got Mother’s picture, life size in beautiful green frames, for our rooms. Dora sobbed out loud, and so I cried too and went up to Father and put my arms around him. His eyes were quite wet; for he adored Mother. Only Oswald did not actually cry, but he kept on biting his lips. I was so glad that Dr. P. was not there, for it is horribly disagreeable to cry before strangers. We both got lovely white guipure blouses, not lace blouses, then Aunt gave me a splendid album for 500 postcards, and she also gave me an anthology which I had asked for. Brahms’ Hungarian Dances, because Dora would not lend me hers last year because she said they were too difficult for me; as if that were any business of hers; surely my music mistress is a better judge; then some writing paper with my monogram, a new en-tout-cas with everything complete, and hair ribbons and other trifles. Father was awfully delighted with Mother’s portrait; of course we had not known that he was getting us life-size portraits of Mother, and from the last photograph of the winter before last we had quite a small likeness painted by Herr Milanowitz, who is a painter, and who knew Mother very well—in colour of course. And we got a lovely rococo frame to close up; when it is open it looks as if Mother were looking out of the window. That was my idea, and Herr Milanowitz thought it most original. Dora considered it very awkward that he would not take any money for it, but it made it possible for us to get a much more elegant frame. After Christmas; for New Year, we are going to send Herr M. some of the best cigars, bought with our own money, I wanted to send them for Christmas, but we don’t know anything about cigars, and we did not want to tell anyone because one can never know whether one won’t be betrayed and you will be told it is unintentional; but that is not true, for when one betrays anything one has always secretly intended to do so; and then one says it was a slip of the tongue; but one really knows all the time. I can’t write down all the extra things that Dora got, only one of them: At 7 o’clock just when Father was lighting the candles on the tree, a commissionaire brought some lovely roses with two sprays of mistletoe interwoven and beneath a nosegay of violets — — — of course from Dr. P. with a card, but she would not let anyone read that. All she said was: “Dr. P. sends everyone Christmas greetings; I believe he had really written: Merry Christmas,” but Dora did not dare to say that. Oh, and Hella gave me a bead bag, and I gave her a purse with the double eagle on it, for she wanted a purse that would have a military look. I never knew anyone with such an enthusiasm for the army as Hella; certainly I think officers look awfully smart; but surely it’s going too far when she feels that other men practically don’t exist. The others have to learn a lot, for example doctors, lawyers, mining engineers, not to speak of students at the College of Agriculture, for perhaps these last “hardly count” (that’s the phrase Hella is always using); but all of them have to learn a great deal more than officers do; Hella never will admit that, and always begins to talk of the officers of the general staff; as if they all belonged to the general staff! We have often argued about it. Still, I do hope she will get an officer for her husband, of course one who is well enough off to marry, for otherwise it’s no go; for Father says the Bruckners have no private means. It’s true he always says that of us too, but I don’t believe it; we are not so to say rich, but I fancy we should both of us have enough money for an officer to be able to marry us. Anyhow, Dora voluntarily renounces that possibility, if she is really going to marry Dr. P.
27th. Well, I went to Hella’s yesterday and stayed till 9, and on Christmas Day she was here. I see that I wrote above that the Bs. were not well off; it seems to me to be very much the reverse. We always get a great many things and very nice ones at Christmas and on our birthdays and name days (of course Protestants don’t have these last), but we don’t give one another such splendid things as the Bs. do. Hella had been given a piece of rose-coloured silk for a dress to wear at the dancing class which must have cost at least 50 crowns, and a lace collar and cuffs, which we had seen at the shop, and it had cost 24 crowns, then she had a gold ring with an emerald, and a number of smaller things which she never even looked at. And to see all the things her sister got, things for her trousseau! And the Bs. Christmas tree cost 12 crowns whilst ours cost only 7, though ours was just as good. So I think that the Bs. really have plenty of money, and I said to Hella: “You must be enormously rich.” And she said: “Oh well, not so rich as all that; I must not expect to marry an officer on the general staff. Lizzi has done very well for herself for Paul is a baron and is very well off. He is frantically in love with her; queer taste, isn’t it?” I quite agree, for Lizzi has not much to boast of in the way of looks, beautiful fair hair, but she is so awfully thin, not a trace of b — —, Hella has much more figure. And if one hasn’t any by the time one is 20 one is not likely to get one.
Something awfully funny happened to-day. Hella asked me: “I say, what’s the Christian name of that Dr. who is dangling after your sister?” Then it struck me for the first time that on his visiting card he only has Dr. jur. A. Pruckmuller, and then I remembered that last summer, when we first made his acquaintance, Dora said, It’s a pity he’s called August, the name does not suit him at all. Well, we laughed till we felt quite ill, for of course Hella began to sing: “O du lieber Augustin,” and then I thought of Der dumme August [clown’s nickname in circus] and we wondered what Dora would call him. Gusti or Gustel, or Augi, my darling Augi, my beloved Gusterl, oh dear, we were in fits of laughter. Then we discussed what names we should like to have for our husbands, and I said: Ewald or Leo, and Hella said: Wouldn’t you like Siegfried? But I put my hand on her mouth and said: “Shut up, or you will make me really angry, that is and must remain forgotten.” She said what she would like best would be to have a husband called Peter or Thamian or Chrysostomus; then for a pet name she would use Dami or Sosti; and then she said quite seriously that she would only marry a man called Egon, or Alexander, or at least Georg. Just at that moment her mother came in to call us to tea, and she said: “What’s an that about Alexander and Georg? You are such dreadful girls. If you are alone together for a couple of minutes (I had come at half past 2 and the Brs. have tea at 4, and that’s what Hella’s mother calls 2 minutes), you begin to talk of unsuitable things.” Hella was afraid her mother would think God knows what, so she said: “Oh no, Mother, we were only discussing what names we should like our fiances to have.” You ought to have seen how her mother went on. “That’s just it, that when you are barely 15 (I’m not 15 yet) you should have nothing but such things in your heads!” Such things, how absurd. At tea it was almost as dull as it was the other evening at home; for the Herr Baron was there, that is, they all say Du to one another now, for the wedding is to be in February, as soon as it is settled whether the Baron is to stay in London or to be transferred to Berlin. It must be funny to say “Du” to a strange man. Hella says she soon got used to it, and that she likes Paul well enough. When he brings Lizzi sweets, when he is taking her to the theatre, he always gives Hella a box for herself. Other people would certainly not do that, and I know other people who wouldn’t accept it. When I got home, Father said: Well, another time I think you’d better stay and sleep at the Brs., and I said: I did not want to be a killjoy here. And Oswald said: “What you need is a box on the ear,” Father was luckily out of the room already and so I said: “Your children, if you ever have any, can be kept in order by boxing their ears till they are green and blue, but you have no rights over your sisters, Father told you so in Fieberbrunn.” “Oh, I know Father always backs you two up, he has done so from the first.” “Please don’t draw me into your quarrels,” said Dora, as if she had been something quite different from me. And then Aunt Dora said: “I do wish you would not keep on quarreling.” “I didn’t begin it,” said I, and went away without saying goodnight; that is I went to Father’s room to say goodnight to him and I saw Aunt Dora in the hall, but I didn’t say goodnight to Oswald and Dora, for I’m not going to put up with everything. And now it’s half past 11 already, for I have been writing such a long time, and have cried such a lot, for I’m very unhappy. Even Hella doesn’t know how unhappy I am. I must go to bed now; whether I shall sleep or not is another question. If I can possibly manage it, I shall go alone to the cemetery to-morrow.
31st. Hella and I went to the cemetery to-day. Her father and mother returned to Cracow yesterday evening, and she told her grandmother she was going to spend the morning with me, and I said I was going to the Brs., so we went alone to Potzleinsdorf. Hella went for a walk round the cemetery while I went to darling Mother’s grave. I am so unhappy; Hella consoles me as much as she can, but even she can’t understand.
January 1, 19—! Of course we did not keep New Year’s Eve yesterday, but were quite alone and it was very melancholy. This morning Dr. P. brought Dora and Aunt Dora some roses and he gave me some lovely violets as a New Year’s greeting. He is leaving on the 4th, so he is coming here on the evening of the 3rd. I can’t say I look forward to it. To-morrow school begins thank goodness. I met a dust cart, that means good luck; Father says it is a scandal the way the dirt carts go on all through the day in Vienna, and that one should see one even on New Year’s day at 2 in the afternoon. But still, if it means good luck!
January 2nd. The dust cart did bring good luck. We had a real piece of luck to-day! In the big interval I noticed a little knot of girls in the hall, and suddenly I felt as if my heart would stop beating. Frau Doktor M., I should say Frau Professor Theyer, was standing among them, she saw us directly and held out her hand to us so we kissed it. She has come to visit her parents and her husband is with her; since she did not know for certain whether she would be able to come to the school she had not written either to me or to Hella about it. She is so lovely and so entrancingly loveable. When the bell rang for class and Frau Doktor Dunker came in I saw that she was still standing outside. So I put my handkerchief up to my face as if my nose were bleeding, and rushed out to her. And because I slipped and nearly fell, she held out her arms to me. Hardly had I reached her, when Hella came out and said: “Of course I understood directly; I said you were awfully bad, so I must go and look after you.” Then the Frau Professor laughed like anything and said: “You are such wicked little actresses; I must send you back immediately.” But of course she did not but was frightfully sweet. Then we begged her to let us stay with her, but she said: “No, no, I’ve been your teacher here, and I must not encourage you in mischief. But here is a better idea. Would you like to come and see me to-morrow?” “Rather,” we both exclaimed. She said she was staying in a hotel, but we must not come alone to a hotel, so she would see us at her parents, in Schwindgasse, and we were to come there at 4 or half past. Then we kissed both her hands and were so happy! To-morrow at 4! Oh dear, a whole night more and nearly a whole day to wait. “If your parents allow you,” she said; as if Father or even Hella’s grandmother would not allow that! All Father said was: “All right Gretel, but don’t go quite off your head first or you won’t be able to find your way to Schwindgasse. Is Hella as crazy as you are?” Of course, how can one be otherwise?