Chapter 5 chapter Five

I didn't take into account Mott's sabbatical and his growing interest in travel at the time.He was delighted with my opera and promised to do his best to help, but unfortunately the travel plans were already fixed, so he only promised to study his part together in the autumn.I gave him a separate copy of the sheet music for his character.He took the score with him, and then, as was his custom, there was no news for several months. So within this period of time we were able to be together again.Gertrude and I have developed a strong friendship.I am sure she must have understood my feelings from that moment at the piano, but she never said a word and treated me in the same way.Not only does she love my music, she also loves me in person, as I do, and she senses that there is a natural sympathy between the two of us, where one always understands and empathizes with the other's emotional shifts of.In this way, she and I lived in harmony and friendship without fanaticism.Sometimes I am content with the quiet, worthwhile days spent with her.All the while I thought that passion must come at last, for every friendship of hers was but a charity to me, and I suffered for it, and storms of love and longing shook me from time to time and made friendship strange and nonchalant.I was often extremely confused, trying to convince myself that she happened to be a stable, cheerful, and calm person.But my feelings tell me that this is an illusion, and Gertrude can fully understand that love will inevitably bring her storms and dangers.I often think of it later, and I feel that if I had attacked her with all my strength, captured her, and tried my best to draw her to me, she would have obeyed me and would have followed me forever.But I was apprehensive about her cheerfulness, and all her tenderness and affection for me were nothing but embarrassing sympathy.I couldn't shake the thought that if she could find another healthy and handsome man whom she liked as much as I did, she would not be able to maintain our peaceful friendship so long.Later, this thought appeared in my mind again and again.I would give up my music and everything in my life for a straight leg and a flattering look.

It was during this period that Tesser approached me again.He is indispensable to my work, so he was the first to know my secrets, the content and plans of my operas, and he carefully took my works home for study.When he came to see me again, his baby face with the blond beard was flushed with satisfaction and the passion the music aroused. "Your opera is great!" he exclaimed to me excitedly. "I've already practiced the overture on the piano! Now let's go and have a good drink, and I say, if you don't mind, I'll have a drink for our friendship. Of course I don't want to make it hard for you."

I readily accepted, and we had a pleasant evening.Tessel took me to his home for the first time.He had recently taken in a younger sister who had been left alone after her mother's death.After living alone for a long time, Tessel found his new family life so comfortable that he didn't know how to praise his sister.His sister was a simple, carefree girl, like him, with bright, childish, kind, cheerful eyes, and her name was Bridgette.She brought us pastries and pale green Austrian wine, and cigarette cases with long Virginia cigars.So we drank the first drink to her health, and the second to our friendship, and while we ate, drank, and smoked, good Tessel was in the room full of joy Walking around, sitting at the piano for a while, leaning on the sofa with the guitar in his arms, and playing the violin at the corner of the table, singing beautiful songs at will, his happy eyes Glittering, all in homage to me, to my opera.It turned out that his sister shared his passion and no less belief in Mozart.The songs of "Magic Flute" and "Don Giovanni" were flying in the small apartment, and the drinking and talking were temporarily interrupted, replaced by the sound of violin, piano and guitar, accompanied by the accurate and wonderful whistle of my brother from time to time Voice.

I also played violin in the band for a brief summer season, resigning in the fall because my work required my full time and interest.The conductor of the band was not happy about my departure, and in the end he was even very rude to me. Fortunately, Tessel bravely intervened and stopped him with a smile. Under the loyal maintenance of Tessel, I completed the score of the instrumental part of the opera music.He scrutinized my thoughts carefully and pointed out all my faults in orchestral handling without mercy.He also often gets angry and reprimands me like a rough commander, and he will not stop until a certain place he thinks is not acceptable but I think it is possible and stubbornly insists on deleting or modifying according to his opinion.He always gave me examples when I was doubtful and unclear.When I lost confidence or lacked courage, he took out the score to explain to me, introduced to me the successful experience of Mozart or Lotkin, and called my hesitation, timidity and stubbornness as "stupid". Cattle".We yelled, quarreled, and blamed each other. If it happened in Tessel's apartment, Bridget would listen attentively, bring us wine and cigarettes from time to time, stroke the crumpled music sheets with regret, and carefully Smooth them out again.She loved me because she loved her brother, and she regarded me as a master of music.Every Sunday, I always go to Tessel's house for dinner. As long as the weather is fine, we will go out together by tram after dinner.We went for walks in the mountains and forests, chatted and sang at the same time, and the brother and sister sang various folk tunes of their hometown over and over again without my asking.

①Albert Lortging (Albert Lortging, 1801-1851), German opera writer. Once we were eating snacks in a country hotel, and there was a kind of country dance music coming from the window. After eating snacks, we went to sit in the garden, drinking apple juice for a while, and Bridgette sneaked into the room over there. Slip away, and when we noticed it and looked out the window, she was dancing past under the window, looking like a summer morning, fresh and refreshing.When she returned, Tessel threatened her with his finger, saying she should invite him too.Flushed and embarrassed, she turned him down and looked at me.

"What's the matter?" asked her brother. "Nothing," she replied simply.But I inadvertently discovered that she was winking at his brother with her eyes, asking him to pay attention to me.So Tessel said, "That's it." I didn't say anything at the time, but I always felt very strange.She danced in front of me and seemed a bit confused.It wasn't until later that I realized that their trip might have gone faster and farther, and the situation would have been completely different, without my obstructive partner.Since then I have seldom joined their Sunday outings.

By the time rehearsals for the soprano role in the opera were over, Gertrude had already found it embarrassing for me to visit her so often and spend time intimately with her at the piano, and I must have been ashamed to find excuses to continue this. Kind of dealings.To my astonishment, she suggested to me that I would regularly come to her house to practice accompaniment for her, so that I would spend two or three afternoons at her house every week.The old gentleman was very glad to see me getting along with her, besides, this girl who lost her mother at an early age has always been the hostess of the family, and everything is up to her.

The garden was already filled with the splendor of early summer, full of flowers and chirping birds around the silent house, and whenever I entered the garden from the street, through the avenue lined with dark old stone statues, Every time I approach the house hidden in the greenery, I feel like entering a holy place. Here, the outside sounds are very faint, and it is difficult for the outside world to penetrate.Bees are buzzing among the blooming flowers in front of the window, and the sun shines into the room through the dense leaves. I sit at the grand piano and listen to Gertrude singing, listening to her relaxed, high-spirited, lively and tactful singing. Singing, we looked at each other and smiled after singing a song. There is such harmony and trust between the two of us, just like a pair of brothers and sisters.I have thought about it several times.I could easily have my eternal happiness by reaching out, and yet I never did, because I was willing to wait until she finally expressed her desire and desire too.But Gertrude seems to be very satisfied with this pure friendship, and has no other demands at all. I often feel that she is asking me not to shake this peaceful harmony and not to destroy our spring.

I'm disappointed by this, the only thing that comforts me is that she loves my music so deeply, knows me so well and is so proud of me. This went on until June, when Gertrude went on holiday in the mountains with her father, and I didn't go.Whenever I pass by the door of her house, I always see deserted behind the sycamore tree, and the door is locked.My pain started again, and it got worse as the night wore on. So I always went to Tessel's house with the score at dusk, and participated in their peaceful and happy life, drinking Austrian wine, and playing Mozart's music together.Then I walked home in the soft night breeze, and saw couples walking in the park along the way; when I got home, I lay on the bed exhausted, but I couldn't fall asleep for a long time.Until now, I still don't understand why I can get along so well with Gertrude.I will never be able to resist her charm, she attracts me, shocks me, conquers me.Sometimes she was dressed in light blue, sometimes gray; sometimes lively, sometimes serious, I listened to her voice.I couldn't understand afterwards that I was able to listen to her sing without proposing to her with enthusiasm.I rose out of bed in bewilderment and excitement, turned on the lights and went to work, weaving voices and instruments together, repeating the song of longing in a new, frenetic rhythm.But comfort often refused to come, making me restless and sleepless all night, chanting Gatrude's name in a daze and meaninglessly, but Gatrude was not in front of me, so comfort and hope left me, only I feel that the future is bleak and hopeless.I called out to God and asked him why he teased me like this, why he kept silent to me, deprived me of the happiness that even the poorest man can enjoy, and gave me only this cruel consolation, my longing was repeatedly emptied Instead of my fantasy, it became the voice I was looking for and something elusive.

I was also able to control my emotions during the day.I gritted my teeth early in the morning and went to work, then took long walks to calm myself and cold showers to clear my head.At dusk I went to the bright Tessels to escape the night that was approaching me, and found hours of peace, and sometimes even joy, with them.Tesser must have discovered that I was ill, but blamed it on my creation, and advised me to take good care of my health, although he was also enthusiastic about this work, and he was as excited about my opera as I was myself.Sometimes I wanted to be alone with him, so I invited him out to spend an evening in the shady garden of a hotel, but the couples, the blue night sky, the many lanterns and fireworks, and the excitement The scent of lust, all that is common to summer nights in the city, could not cheer me up.

My mood worsened when Hesel also left to accompany Bridgette on a mountain vacation.He invited me to go with him with the utmost sincerity, but I was very much afraid that my handicap should spoil their fun; so I did not accept the invitation at last.I was left alone in the city for two full weeks, exhausted from insomnia, with little progress on my work. At this time, Gertrude gave me a box full of Alpine roses from Wallace, Switzerland. When I saw her handwriting and those brown flowers that had faded, I felt that Gertrude was using her Those lovely eyes looked at me, and I couldn't help being ashamed of my brutishness and despair.I thought it would be more expedient to let her know of my situation, and wrote her a note the next morning.I told her, kind of jokingly, that I was losing sleep from missing her and that I was no longer able to accept her friendship because I loved her.As I wrote the letter the emotion seized me again, so that the letter began calmly and almost humorously, and ended violently and fieryly. The post office delivered greeting letters and postcards from the Tessel brothers and sisters almost every day.They would never have expected all their letters to be a disappointment to me, for I was expecting a letter from another. The letter finally arrived, in a large gray envelope with Gertrude's beautiful and elegant handwriting, and the letter inside. Dear friends: Your letter has put me in a bind.I see you are in pain and sick, no Then I must reprimand you for attacking me like this.you know i like it very much You; but I feel that the present situation suits me so well that I would not in the least wish to add to change.If I saw the danger of losing you, I would do anything Keep yours.But I cannot answer the enthusiasm in your letter.exist During our breakup, you have to be patient for a while, and when we meet again, we will be together again discuss.Then everything will be solved. Your Gertrude This letter, though very different from what I had expected, was a great comfort to me.This is her greeting to me, she tolerated me, let me propose to her, did not refuse me.This letter also brought me her voice and smile, as well as her almost indifferent but cheerful personality.The picture of her that I longed for, although there is no one, but the image of her person appears in my mind again and again.I felt her presence, her eyes expecting me to trust her, and I felt a sudden mixture of shame and pride, a feeling that helped me overcome my sinking sadness and my eager longing.What I got was not comfort, but strength and bravery.I checked into a small country hotel about two hours from the city with my work.I used to sit in the shade of a withered lilac tree and meditate, wondering about my past life.How lonely and cautious I am walking my own way, not knowing where I am going!I have no roots, I have no homeland.My relations with my parents were superficial, of polite correspondence; I abandoned my vocation to pursue that dangerous creative fantasy, of which I could never be satisfied.My friends don't know me, and Gertrude is the only one who can get along with me and understand me completely.I live to create, that is, it gives me the meaning of life, but how it is like chasing after the wind, how like a castle in the air!Does it really make sense?Can a person's wish be realized and fulfilled?Is the accumulation of lines of notes, imaginative passion played, really able to give others an hour of comfortable enjoyment under the best circumstances? Then I worked hard again, and finally finished the core part of the opera this summer. Although there are many shortcomings on the surface, at least the first draft is finished.Sometimes I am very happy, and I imagine with great satisfaction how my work will win the support of people, such as singers, musicians, orchestra directors, and chorus directors, who will all have to carry out my wishes and make my works worthy of thousands. Tens of thousands of people have been impacted.At other times I grew melancholy and fearful that all these activities and endeavors would exhaust a lonely wretch, whom everyone sympathized with, with fruitless dreams and fantasies.And sometimes I lose confidence, trying to find evidence that my work is impossible to stage, all mistakes and exaggerations.But this is rarely the case, and I basically believe in the life and power of my work.My works are also honest and fiery, filled with my own experience, flowing with my blood, even if I don't want to hear them today, and I am writing completely different pieces, then this opera is still my whole youth, When certain beats meet me again, I feel like a strong spring breeze blowing towards me from the desolate valley of passionate youth.I reflected that all its enthusiasm and strength came from a weak, needy, longing heart, and I did not know whether my whole life at that time was as lovely as it is now, or whether it was painful of. Summer was drawing to a close, and I had written the overture to the opera one dark night with heavy rain, and the next morning the icy raindrops dwindled, the sky was gray, and the gardens revealed autumnal vistas.I packed my bags and went back to the city. Of all my acquaintances, only the Tessel brothers and sisters have returned.The two brothers and sisters were rosy and radiant. It seemed that the journey was very pleasant, as if in an opera, with rich and intense activities.The two of us went over the overture from beginning to end.When Tessel put his hands on his sister's shoulders and said to her, "Bridgette, look, this is a great musician!", my heart was almost as happy as a festival. I eagerly and excitedly look forward to the arrival of Gertrude, and I am very confident in it.I'm going to show her a beautiful piece of work, and I know she'll understand and appreciate it as if it were her own.What worries me most is Heiglich Motte, whose help I cannot do without, and who has not heard from him for several months. Finally he appeared, and before Gertrude returned.He came to my room one morning and gazed into my face for a long time. "You look so ugly," he said, shaking his head. "Yeah, creation is not easy!" "Have you seen the part of your role?" "Have you seen it? I have recited it so well that I can sing it. You can listen to it whenever you want. Damn this music!" "Do you think so?" "Just wait and see. Now is your best time, just wait and see! When the opera starts, your reputation will be ruined, and your peace in the attic will be over. Well, it is you When are we going to perform? I have only a few places for your consideration. How long will it be before they are all finished?" I showed him everything I could, and he immediately took me to his apartment.So for the first time I heard him sing the hero, I always imagined how he would perform the role based on my emotions, and now I feel the power of my music and his voice.Only now can I see in my mind the panorama of what is going on on the stage, only now do I feel the fire that I kindle come to me, burn me, it's no longer mine, it's no longer mine The work has a life of its own and affects me with a strange force.For the first time, I felt a separation between a work and its creator, which I can hardly believe today.My work began to form, move, and show its vitality. Although it is still in my hands, it no longer belongs to me, just like a child growing up and living with his father, and gradually forming his own strength. So he looked at his father independently and with strange eyes, but he still wore his father's surname and his father's mark was engraved on his forehead.And when the opera was officially staged, I often still had this terrible feeling of division. Mott is very good at the tenor role, and I readily agree with some changes that he thinks need to be made.Later, he curiously asked about the soprano candidate, because he only played half of the play, so he wanted to know if I had hired a female singer to practice singing.When I first spoke to him about Gertrude, I tried to be as calm and nonchalant as possible.He knew her name, but he had no contact with Mr. Imdo's family. When he heard that Gertrude had learned to sing this role, he was very surprised. "Then she must have a fine voice," he said candidly. "Sings loudly and easily. Will you take me to her house to hear it once?" "I'm going to invite her anyway. You have to listen to Miss Imdo's singing a few times, and there must be some things that need to be revised. As soon as they return to the city from the mountain, I will invite her to come." "You're a lucky man, Cohn. You've also had Tesselt to help you write the orchestral part. Just wait and see, this play will be a blockbuster." I didn't say anything, I couldn't relax my thoughts about the future and the fate of my opera, and I had to wait until everything was finished before I could breathe a sigh of relief.However, since I heard Mott sing, I have confidence in the power of the work. When I told Tesser about this, he was very angry and exclaimed: "Of course I have long believed that Mott has an extraordinary power, as long as he is not so sloppy and careless. But he always only cares Myself, I have never been willing to work hard on music. He is a daredevil, and he is the same everywhere!" That day, when I walked through the garden of Imdo towards the house in the fall of the leaves, to visit Gertrude who had finally returned, my heart was pounding.She became more beautiful, her back was straighter, and her face was a little tanned. She greeted me with a smile, stretched out her hand to me, her lovely voice, bright eyes, and her The whole noble and unrestrained manner charmed me at once, and all my worries and desires were put aside, and I was happy to be again in her pure side.She asked me to be free, so that I had no opportunity to mention my letters and requests, and she was silent about it, only as a gesture of not wanting our friendship to be damaged or endangered in any way.Nor did she wish to avoid me, and was often alone with me, and she expressed confidence in me that I would respect her wishes and never propose to her unless she herself encouraged me to do so.We chatted endlessly about what I had been working on for months, and I told her that Mott was the leading man in the play and praised him.I asked her to allow me to bring Mott to her. I think it is indispensable for the two protagonists to study and discuss together, and she agreed. "Of course I am very glad to do it," she said. "Of course you know that I have never sung in front of strangers before, and Mr. Mott in particular makes me uncomfortable. Not only because he is a famous singer. And there's something that scares me, at least when I'm on stage. Well, let's try." I dare not cover and boast for my friend so as not to make her afraid of Mort.I'm sure she'll be happy to continue working with him after the first rehearsal. A few days later, I came to her house by car with Mott. We waited for a while before the host came out to receive her very politely and calmly.The old man made no objection to my frequent visits and my close relationship with Gertrude, but he smiled when anyone tried to ask him to confirm this.This time I brought Mott and he didn't like it much.Mott has a noble demeanor and well-dressed clothes, but Mr. Imdo doesn't seem to value his two advantages.The brusque, haughty, and notorious singer tried to appear as civilized and cultivated as possible, not only in his manners, but in his speech with the utmost propriety and propriety. "Shall we practice singing?" Gertrude asked after a short break, and everyone stood up and walked to the concert hall.I sat down at the grand piano, briefly introduced the prelude and each act, and then asked Gertrude to sing.She was unfamiliar with singing, and she was careful not to let go of her voice.Mott, on the contrary, did not hesitate to let go of his voice when it was his turn to sing.His singing captivated us both, and now even Gertrude is convinced.Mott, who was accustomed to socializing with ladies in high society, did not notice her until now, and he sang to her voice, talking to her sincerely, in a tone that was kind but not excessive. From that moment on, all prejudices disappear, and music unites us and brings us into harmony.My work is always in a half-dead, half-finished state, which makes me feel more and more worried.Now I understand that as long as the main body is changed, there is no need to make any essential changes, so I will feel calmer in my heart.I can't hide my joy, I have to thank my two friends with actions.We left Mr. Imdor's house in high spirits, and Heinrich Motter kindly invited me to eat at one of his favorite restaurants.While drinking champagne, he called me by you in an unusual way, and he continued to call me that, and I was happy, so I let him call me. "It's a good day for us to celebrate," he said, laughing. "It's true and wonderful that we did it beforehand. It will be different later on. You're among the big names in theater now, young man." , we must drink to this, and hope you don't give up halfway like most people do." For a long time, Gertrude was a little timid in front of Mott, and it was only when he sang that he was more free.He was very restrained and considerate.Gradually Gertrude was pleased with his presence, treated him as he treated me, and asked him to come again without hesitation every time he left.Later, the time when the three of us were together slowly decreased.The two main roles have been discussed and rehearsed, and Imdo's regular winter music evenings have begun again, and Mott often comes to attend, but does not perform. I did sometimes feel that Gertrude was beginning to distance himself from me, and that he was always trying to avoid me; but I often managed to get rid of this thought, and was ashamed of my suspicions.I thought Gertrude very well suited to be the mistress of a social household, and it was a pleasant feeling to see her so charming, so proud, yet lovable, among the guests. Weeks flew by like flies.I sat down to work with peace of mind, and wanted to spend as much time as possible in Xiemin's opera in winter. I made an agreement with Tessel to go to his and his sister's place every night.In addition, I had many correspondence and social activities, because my songs were sung everywhere, and all my string works were performed in Berlin.Questions and criticisms poured in, and suddenly everyone seemed to know that I was writing an opera, even though I didn't talk about it with anyone other than Gertrude, Tessel and Mott over this.Fortunately, it doesn't matter for now, mainly because I like these symbols of success very much, and it seems that I finally have a bright future early. I have been away from my parents for a whole year.So I went back home at Christmas time.My mother was very kind to me, but the prejudices of the past remained, and there was a gulf of incomprehension between us. She did not believe that I would pursue art as a career, and doubted the seriousness of my hard work.She began to describe in vivid detail what she had heard and seen about me, which pleased me more than she expressed conviction, but she remained basically as skeptical of my apparent achievements as she was of my own. All art work the same.It's not that she doesn't love music, she used to like to sing, but in her eyes, taking music as a career is a bit pitiful. She has also listened to some of my music works, either she doesn't understand, or her evaluation is very low. My father believed me more.As a businessman.His first consideration was my physical life.He has always supported me financially without any complaints, especially after I left the orchestra, I have to pay all my living expenses again, and now I see that I will start earning my own money and have a future, and sooner or later I will be able to earn a living independently, the wealth he gave me It can be used as a necessary fund for an affluent life, and of course I am very happy in my heart.By the way, I found out how he was lying in bed. It turned out that the day before I got home, he had fallen and hurt his leg. I echoed my father's penchant for lightly discussing shallower philosophical issues, which brought us closer than ever, and I enjoyed hearing his proven practical philosophy of life.I confided to my father some of my misfortunes that I had never been ashamed to tell.During the narration, I suddenly remembered a famous quote by Mott, and told my father about it.Mott once expressed a point of view to me, though not in earnest, that youth is the most difficult time in life, and that older people are generally happier and more contented than younger people.My father laughed, and after a moment of thought, he said: "Of course we old people say the opposite. But what your friend said has some truth. I believe that there is indeed a clear boundary between youth and old age in a person's life. Young people advocate egoism, old people start to live for others. What I mean is: young people have a lot of joy and a lot of pain in their lives, because they live only for themselves. For them, every hope and thought is important Yes, they enjoyed every kind of pleasure, but they also tasted every kind of pain, and some of them, seeing the impossibility of their wishes, immediately gave up their lives. This is youth. Most of them Men, on the other hand, pass from there to a period of living more for others, not out of virtue, but quite naturally. Most of them have families. When they have children, They think little of themselves and their wishes. Others forget themselves in office, politics, art, or science. The young love fun, the old love work. No one marries to have children, but when He had children, and they could change him, and he found at last that all he had done was for them. In connection with this, young people love to talk about death, but they rarely think about it. The old people are just the opposite. Young people think about how to live forever, so all wishes and considerations always revolve around themselves. But the old people think that the end is ahead, and a person who seeks for himself will end up with nothing in the end. The result is nothing. And he pursues another kind of eternity and faith, he does not want to live like a worm. He fights for his wife, children, career, job and motherland, and he knows who he is for all day Toiled and tormented. Your friend is quite right on this point: a man is happier living for others than for himself. It is only that old men are not fond of heroism, and in fact No. The best old people grow up from the hardest young people, and they don't mature like old grandfathers from school days." I stayed at home for a week, spending most of the time at my father's bedside. He was not a patient patient, and except for a slight injury to his foot, he was in good health and full of energy.I apologized to my father for not being as caring and considerate as I used to be, but he said it was a matter for both parties, and if we tried to reach a mutual understanding early on - which is actually very difficult to do - it would improve the future between us friendly.He advised me discreetly and kindly how to behave with women.I don't want to talk about Gertrude's affairs, and the other aspects are as brief as possible. "Don't worry!" Dad said with a smile. "You'll make a good husband, a wise woman will soon see. You don't go to a very poor woman, she may only think about your money. If you can't find a woman you like and like, And that's not all. Love between a young man and a woman is very different from a married couple who give themselves up to grow old. Youth is always thinking of yourself and thinking only of yourself. Once you start a family, you have other things to worry about. I It's also someone who has been there, of course you know it well. I have a crush on your mother, and we married for love. But this situation only lasted for a year or two, and then the relationship stopped, and finally even disappeared without a trace The two of us were stunned and didn't know what to do. It happened that the children were born, first your two older sisters, we worried about them, but they died young. For the sake of the children, we asked less from each other, and the barriers again Disappeared, and then the love came back again, not the old one, of course, but a different kind of love. Since then, the love has been stable and needs no repairs, and it has lasted for more than thirty years. Not all marriages concluded by love are能够如此美满，甚至可以说是很少如此美满的。” 我当然并不信奉这种观点，然而，却因而增进了同父亲之间的新的友好的关系，心里感到愉快，开始重新眷恋起自己的家乡，在这过去的几年中，我对故乡几乎是淡忘了。当我动身离去时，后悔自己不曾拜访父老乡亲，决定以后要和老一辈人多多接触。 工作、旅行以及我的弦乐作品的演出，使我一度中断了去依姆多先生家。当我重新再去时，发现莫特成了依姆多家的常客了，而过去他只在我陪同下才去的。老依姆多对他仍然冷淡，甚至有点怠慢，而盖特露德和他看来已成了密友。对此我也很欢喜，我没有嫉妒的理由，我深信，象莫特和盖特露德这样两个完全不同的人会意气相投的，可是不可能互相满足并且相爱；就是在我看见他和她一起唱歌，两人的声音美妙地混合在一起时，我也并不怀疑自己的看法。他们两人都长得好看，身材高大、风度翩翩；他黝黑而严肃，她白净而开朗。最近我不时发现她那天生的开朗性格变得有点闷闷不乐，有时甚至显得又疲倦又阴郁。她常常严肃地审视着我，带着一种好奇的神色，象一个受压抑而心情恐惧的人和我交流着目光。当我朝她点点头，报以愉快的一瞥时，她才慢慢舒展开紧张的面容，勉强地笑了笑，这使我心头隐隐作痛。 不过我很少作这样的观察，盖特露德在其他时候还同从前一样开朗并光彩照人，因而我把自己的观察看作是主观想象或者是一时的不舒服。不过有一次可真把我吓坏了。当时一位客人正在演奏贝多芬的作品，她退到后面。坐在一个黑暗的角落里，认为别人不会注意她。片刻之前，她在明亮的灯光下招待客人时看上去还是很愉快、开朗的模样。而现在呢，她退到后面，并且显然对音乐无动于衷，她侧着头，脸上的表情显得疲倦、恐惧和羞涩，简直就象一个孤苦无依的孩子。这种情况持续了好几分钟，我瞧着她，感到心脏都停止了跳动。她忍受着痛苦，烦躁不安地坐着，那模样已经够坏的了，但是她在我面前却还装出高兴的样子。对我也隐瞒着一切，这使我大为恐慌。演奏一结束，我就朝她走去，在她身边坐下，设法找些不相千的闲话同她谈。我说今年的冬天很不平静，连我也觉得有点不舒服，说的时候还尽量用了轻松愉快的口吻。最后我还谈起今年早春时节，我们曾在一起演奏、歌唱和讨论我的歌剧的初稿。 这时她才说：“嗅，那可真是美好的时光。”随后便又不响了，可这句话倒是一个自白，而且用了一种不自觉的诚恳语气，使我心里涌起希望和对她的感谢之情。 我极愿意向她叙述夏天的情形。她的个性有了变化，就是在我的面前也不时显出拘谨和不定心的畏怯，而我却把这些看成为对我有利的标志。我看到她因自己少女的自尊受到伤害而努力自卫时，心里十分感动。可我什么也不敢说，她的不稳定的情绪使我痛苦，而我又认为自己必须保持沉默的诺言。我从来不懂得如何和女人周旋。我犯了同海因利希?莫特相反的错误：我象对待朋友一般对待女人。 我不能够长期容忍自己遭受欺骗；我对盖特露德性格的改变只了解一半便暂告中断，我要减少拜访她的次数，尽量避免作亲密的谈话。我愿意保护她，要让她不再有羞怯和畏惧的心理，因为她仍然显露出痛苦和心神不宁的样子。她已经发现了这一点，如我所知，她对我的退缩也并没有不高兴。我希望，随着冬天的消逝，一个宁静、美丽的时期会在活泼的交往中重新降临到我们身上，为此，我愿意苦苦等待。但是这位美丽的小姐经常让我痛苦，不禁使我渐渐的不安起来，嗅到了一点不妙的味道。 二月来到了，在这盼望已久的早春时节我仍处于紧张状态。现在莫特也很少来我这里，严冬时他忙于演唱歌剧，目前他正受到两家大剧院的重礼聘请，尚未作出抉择，因为他也没有遇到过这种新的情况。看来他还没有新情妇，至少和绿蒂闹翻后，我没有在他家见到任何别的女人。 不久前我们庆祝了他的生日，后来就没有再看见他。 一种需要驱使我去找他，由于我和盖特露德之间关系的改变，由于过度劳累，也由于漫长冬日的困乏，我单纯为了闲聊而寻找他。他请我坐下，端给我一杯樱桃酒，便开始谈起剧院来，他显得很疲乏。心不在焉，却又非常温和。我一边听，一边朝房间的四周打量着，正要问他近来可曾去依姆多家时，无意中却看见桌上有一封信，信封上是盖特露德的笔迹。我还来不及多作考虑，便有一种恐惧和愤懑向我袭来。这仅是一封客客气气的邀请信，但我却不这么想，我多么希望自己也能收到这样一封信啊。 我尽量保持镇静，不一会儿就告辞了。我知道事情业已违反自己的愿望。这仅是一份请柬，一件小事，一次偶然的巧合而已——可是我知道事实并非如此。在这一瞬间里，我看透了～切，明白了一切，知道最近一段时期所发生的事。我决心考验自己，并且冷静地等待，但是所有这些想法不过是借口和逃避，其实我已被利箭刺伤，伤口在汩汩地流着血。当我回到家，坐在自己的小屋里，可怕的真相便象冰冷的麻醉剂似地慢慢流过全身，我感到自己的生命遭到了摧残，我的信念和希望都已破灭。 好多天我既不流泪也不痛苦。我想也不想就作出决定，不再继续活下去。确切地说，我刚放弃求生的意念，活下去的愿望便荡然无存了。我考虑着死亡就象在从事一件事业，是一件不可抗拒非做不可的事，不必去考虑它做起来是愉快还是痛苦。 事先我想有些事情还必须料理一番，首先要去拜访盖特露德一次——可以说是出于正常礼节——我的感情需要取得不可缺少的证明。我还想把她从莫特身边拉过来；虽然他看来比盖特露德的过失少些，我却不想去看他。我到盖特露德家，没有遇见她，第二天又去了，同她和依姆多先生闲谈了几分钟，直到他让我们两人单独在一起，他还以为我要和她一起练琴。 现在她一个人面对着我，我再度好奇地打量着她，她略略有了改变，但她的美貌和从前相比毫无逊色。 “请原谅我，盖特露德，”我坚决地说道，“我不得不又来打扰您。夏天时我曾给您写过一封信——我现在可以得到答复吗？我要出门旅行，可能离开很长时间，不过我会等待的，直到您自己……” 她顿时脸色苍白，惊讶地望着我，我为她解围地继续说道：“您是想说'不'吧，是不是？我也已料到了。我只是想证实一下而已。” 她悲哀地点点头。 “那么是海因利希吧？” 她又点点头，突然又显得很害怕，紧紧抓住了我的手。 “请原谅我！请您别对他干出什么事来！” “我没有想到对他干什么事，请您放心，”我说着，不禁微微一笑，因为想起了玛利昂和绿蒂，她们也很怕他，而他还打她们。也许他还会打盖特露德，那就会彻底毁了她那开朗高雅和充满自信的整个儿气质。 “盖特露德，”我又一次开口说道，“您还是再考虑考虑吧！不是因为我的缘故，我知道发生了什么事！可是莫特不会使您幸福的。再见了，盖特露德。” 我始终保持着冷静清醒的头脑。直到现在盖特露德用那样一种声调和我说话，和我曾从绿蒂处听到的一样。当时她用完全病态的目光凝视着我，并哀求道：“请您别这样就走，您不该这么对待我！”这句话说得我心都碎了，我努力镇定自己。 我向她伸出手去，并且表白说：“我不愿意使您痛苦。我也不愿意伤害海因利希。但是您等着看吧，您能容忍他对您动武吗！他会毁了一切他所爱的人。” 她摇摇头，松开了我的手。 “再见吧！”她轻轻地说。“我是无辜的。您从好的方面想着我吧，还有海因利希！” 事情就此结束了。我回到家里，象安排商业事务似的继续安排我的工作。痛苦梗塞了我的咽喉，简直无法摆脱这种痛苦的思绪。不管我还剩余多少时日、钟点，不管我在这些时间里生活得好还是坏，对我全然无所谓。我整理了我那一大堆乐谱，包括那出已完成了一半的歌剧，然后写了一封信给台塞尔，请他无论如何要保存这部作品。完了后我就努力思考该如何去死。我爱我的父母，却实在想不出什么好的死法可以使他们兔受惊吓。最后我决定抛却一切顾虑用手枪自杀。所有其他问题在我看来都是虚无飘规模糊不清的。只有一个念头是坚定不移的，那就是我不再继续活下去。我已经预感到在我冰冷的决心后面，是我对生活的恐惧，它在用空洞的眼睛可怖地注视着我，比较之下，那昏暗的、几乎是冷漠的死亡也远远没有如此丑恶和恐怖。 第二天中午过后，我已把一切都考虑妥当。我还要到城里去一次，有几本书必须还给图书馆。我心里很平静，知道自己活不过今晚，我处在一个道难者的半麻木状态之中，虽然想象到可怖的痛苦，却没有感到痛苦。我只是希望在真实的痛苦来临之前，尽可能毫无知觉地结束生命。这就是我的指望。我宁愿忍受真实的痛苦，也胜似受痛苦的威胁，我但愿自己再度恢复清醒，就可以一口饮下那一港杯致我于死地的毒酒。于是我急急忙忙赶路，赶紧办完事情便可回到家中。为了不经过盖特露德家，我不得不绕了一段弯路。我想象得出自己看见她的住宅会产生无法忍受的痛苦，面临垮台不如早早逃避。 我回到自己的寓所，喘过一口气，打开大门，不停顿地走上楼梯，这时心里才略觉安定。倘若现在还有痛苦追随在我身后，还有魔爪想攫取我，还有极端的痛苦绞痛我的心，那么我只须在我本人和解脱之间跨出一步、花上几秒钟便可以了。 一个穿制服的男人正从楼上下来，和我打了个照面。我闪开身子，急匆匆走过他身边，我害怕自己不得不停下步来。但是他脱下帽子并且叫出了我的名字。我摇摇晃晃地注视着他。我的名宇、我的停留，使一种恐怖感一下子充满了我的全身，我突然感到浑身软瘫，觉得非倒下不可，似乎再也走不完那几步路，踏进自己的房间了。 这段时间里，我一直痛苦地朝这个陌生的男人瞠目而视着，后来使精疲力竭地一屁股坐在楼梯上了。他询问我是否病了，我摇摇头。他手里始终捏着什么东西，他想给我，我却不想去接，最后他硬把它塞在我手中。我拚命拒绝，说：“我不要。” 他喊叫女房东，她恰好不在。于是他握住我的胳臂想把我抱起来，我一看无法摆脱，而他也不会让我一个人呆着，我觉得他还在使劲拉我，便站起身子径直朝房间走去，他紧紧追随在后。我觉得他在用怀疑的目光打量着我，便指指我那跛脚，装出很痛的样子，他倒相信了。我找出钱包给了他一个马克，他道谢后仍然把那东西硬塞在我手里，我这才发现，这个我不愿要的东西原来是一封电报。 我软弱无力地站在桌边，陷于沉思之中。现在居然有人想阻拦我，想打破我的计划。what is this?一封电报，谁打来的？不相干，对我毫无作用。目前给我打电报是一种粗暴行为。我已把一切都料理妥当，在最后一瞬间却来了一封电报。我再低头一看，桌上还有一封信。 我把信放进衣袋，信改变不了我。可是电报却让我不安心，使我牵肠挂肚，乱了我的方寸。我面对电报坐下，沉思起来，拿不定主意，看还是不看。它肯定会干涉我的自由，对此我是深信不疑的。不知道是什么人企图阻拦我。有人不让我逃避痛苦，有人要我被痛苦吞噬而死，避免留下任何伤口、裂痕和痉挛的迹象。 我真不明白，为什么一封电报叫我如此坐卧不安。我坐在桌边沉思良久，不敢拆开电报，预感到其中埋藏着一种力量，这股力量要强迫我容忍我们不能忍受的生活，要强行把我拉回到我所要逃避的地方去。最后我还是打开了电报；颤抖着拿在手里慢慢辨认着，好似在翻译一种自己不熟悉的外国语。电文的内容如下：“父病危，速归，妈妈。”我渐渐明白了电报的意义。昨天我还想着我的双亲，担心自己将给他们造成痛苦，当然这仅仅是极表面的担心。现在他们在行使自己的权力，他们提出抗议，要把我拉回到他们身边。圣诞节时我和父亲的谈话也立即出现在我脑海中。他说过，年轻人出于利己主义和独立的感情，他们会由于一个未遂的愿望而轻易捐生；但是谁会想到他的生命I和别的许多人的生活连在一起的呢，这些人是不允许他按照自己的欲望走得这么远的。如今我正是连在这样一根纽带上！我的父亲快死了，母亲孤零零陪伴着他，她召唤着我。他的病危和她的苦恼在这一瞬间还不能抓住我的心，我还是相信自己痛苦欲绝的认识；不过在目前这种情况下，还把我自己的包袱扔给他们，不理睬他们的请求，自顾逃避痛苦，是行不通的，这一点我倒是看得清清楚楚。 黄昏时分我穿戴整齐来到火车站，心里虽然不高兴，也只得按照需要购买了车票，把找回的零钱装进钱包，汇入站在月台上等候的长长的人群，登上了一节车厢。我找了一个角落坐下，等待着冗长的黑夜过去。一个青年人走进车厢，环顾四周之后便和我打了一个招呼，在我对面坐了下来。他问了我一些话，而我只是木然对着他看，我毫无所思，毫无所想，但求他不要打扰我。他咳嗽着站起身子，从口袋里掏出一块黄色的皮予，又另外找了一个位置。 列车盲目地、白痴般地在黑夜中奔驰，就象我一样愚笨、认真，生怕耽误了什么，又想挽救什么。几个钟点以后，当我手伸进口袋时，碰着了那封信。它居然还在，我心里想着，一边随手把它拆开了。 信是我的出版商写来的，提到了音乐会和报酬，他告诉我，一切都顺利，我可以继续写下去，慕尼黑一位大批评家还发表了评论文章，他向我道贺。信里还附有一份杂志的剪报，是一篇文章，以我和我作品的名字为标题，长篇大论地评述当代音乐现状，又讲了瓦格纳和勃拉姆斯，接着就谈到了我的弦乐作品和我的歌曲，用了许多赞美的言词。当我读着这一行行黑色字体时，心里逐渐明白，我会受到人们欢迎并且享誉世界的。一瞬间我禁不住哭了。 这封信和这篇文章让我睁开了眼睛，我回首这个世界，意外地发现自己并没有消失和沉沦，而是生活在世界之中，并且属于这个世界。我必须活下去，我必须愉快地活下去。What should I do?啊，五天以来所发生的一切都浮现在我眼前，我的感觉和想法都是郁闷的，一切都是那么可厌、苦涩和可鄙。这一切都成了一份死刑判决书，而我却没有执行它，现在也只能不执行它了。 列车在隆隆地前进。我打开窗户，看着向后移动的黑色景致：伸着黑色枝权的可怜的光秃秃的树木、大屋顶下的庭园和远处起伏的山丘。所有这一切似乎都不乐意生存，似乎都很痛苦和反感。别人可能认为是美丽的一切，我眼中却是凄凉的。我想起了一首歌曲人这是上帝的旨意吗？）｝。 我就这样注视着窗外的树本、原野和屋顶，倾听着车轮有规律的节奏，不由得急切地想起了搅扰自己的一切，那些遥远的事物都毫不令人绝望地涌入我的脑海，当然这样是不能持久的。我几乎连父亲也没有想到。他倒下了，和树木、暮色一起被遗忘了。我的思想违背我自己的意志和愿望又回到了它不该去的地方。那里有一座古树成行的花园，花园里有一幢邸宅，入口处种着棕榈树，邸宅的四壁挂有古老、发暗的画像，我走进去，登上楼梯，走过所有古老的画像，没有人瞧见我，我象一个影子似地走进房内。一个苗条的女人背向着我，一头乌金色的秀发。我看见了他们两个人，她和他，紧紧拥抱在一起，我看见我的朋友海因利希?莫特在微笑，笑容显得既忧郁又狰狞，他一贯如此，好似他早已明白自己也可以欺负和虐待这位金发美女，好似除此之外便没有什么可做的了。让最美丽的女子落在这个可怜虫和破坏者手里真是愚蠢而且毫无意义，一切爱情和幸福都会化为乌有。这真是愚蠢而且毫无意义，但是事实就是如此。 当我从睡眠中，或者说从一种失去知觉的状态中醒来时，发现窗前晨光嘉微，天色开始发亮了。我舒展了一下僵硬的四肢，胆怯和忧虑袭上心头，只见前面是一片颓败和荒凉的景色。这时我才想起了父亲和母亲。 清晨时分，当我看见故乡的小桥和屋宇渐渐靠近时，天色仍是灰蒙蒙的。火车站又脏又乱，这使我更觉得疲乏和恶心了，简直不想下车；但是我还是提起我那简单的行李，登上一辆行驶在光滑柏油路上的离我最近的车子，车子驶过略略冰冻的土地，驶过颠簸不平的石子路面，在我们家宽敞的大门口停下了，这扇大门在我的记忆中，是从不关闭上锁的。 可是现在，大门却关得严严的，我慌乱而惊恐地拉动门铃，没有人来开门，也没有任何回声。我抬头望望楼上，觉得自己象是在一场难堪的恶梦里，一切都是关闭上锁的。看来只好翻墙进去了。马车夫惊讶地望着我，呆呆地等着。我推开另外一道门，这些年来我几乎没有来过这里。门开启了，一直走去便到了我父亲的帐房间，我走进去时，那些办事员和过去一样穿着灰色外套安静地坐在那里，看见我进去便都站起身来问安，因为我是唯一的继承人。簿记员克莱姆先生还和二十年前一样，毫无变化，他驼着背，悲哀而又疑虑地望着我。 “为什么把大门关了？”我问。 “前边没有人。” “我父亲现在怎么样？” “在医院里，太太也在那里。” “他还活着吧？” “今天上午还在，不过听说等不到……” “啊，怎么样？” “怎么样？嗯，还是脚的毛病。我们大家都认为是治疗错 error.先生突然疼痛极了，叫嚷得真可怕。当即把他送进了医院。 确诊是血中毒。昨天两点半钟我们给您发了电报。 " “噢，谢谢你们。请叫人给我送一份面包和一杯葡萄酒，再给我准备一辆马车，请快些！” 有人跑去吩咐了，周围重又一片寂静，不一会儿有人给我送来一盘面包和一杯酒，我吃喝完毕，登上一辆马车，立即到了医院，许多头戴白帽子的女护士，身着蓝条纹布罩衫的男看护在走廊里奔来奔去。有人拉着我的手把我引入一间病房，我看见母亲含着眼泪向我点头，我的父亲躺在一张低矮的铁床上，模样完全变了，显得干枯瘦小，他那短短的友胡子一根根竖着，特别显眼。 父亲还活着，他睁开眼睛认出了我，虽然仍在发高烧。 “你还在搞音乐吗？”他轻声问，那声调和目光仍同从前一样善良而略带嘲讽。他疲乏地用一种带有讥消的智慧的目光望望我，再也没有说别的话，我感到他的目光透进了我的心里，已经明白了一切。 “父亲，”我说。但他只是笑笑，再度用半带嘲讽的目光望望我，那目光却已经有点弥散了，然后又重新闭上了眼睛。 “你的脸色真难看！”母亲一面拥抱我，一面说。“你怎么瘦成这样？” 我没有什么可说的，这时进来了一个青年医生，紧接着又进来一位年老的医生，给垂危病人注射了吗啡剂，于是那双聪明的眼睛又得以无所不知地观察周围，可惜却再也睁不大了。 我们坐在他身边，看他躺着，逐渐平静下来，他的脸容已经变了，已到弥留时刻。父亲又活了几个小时，黄昏时分才断了气。我只感到一种沉重的痛苦和极端的疲乏，瞪着干枯的眼睛坐在死者床边，天黑时终于昏昏沉沉地睡着了。