But she was woman enough to draw parts of his innermost being, waiting like ripening grains for the fertilizing moment, prematurely to the surface.

These were, then, his strange ideas and fantastic temptations. But sometimes he felt equally close to throwing himself on the ground and screaming with despair.

 

Božena was still not paying any attention to Törless. She seemed to be doing it out of spite, just to annoy him. Suddenly she interrupted her conversation: ‘Give me some money, I’ll get some tea and schnapps.’

Törless gave her one of the silver coins he had received from his mother that afternoon.

She fetched a battered spirit-lamp from the window-sill and lit the paraffin; then shuffled slowly down the stairs.

Beineberg gave Törless a nudge. ‘Why are you being so pathetic? She’ll think you don’t dare.’

‘Leave me out of it,’ said Törless, ‘I don’t feel like it. Just go on talking to her. Why is she forever going on about your mother?’

‘Ever since she’s learned my name she claims she was once in service with my aunt and knew my mother. Part of it seems to be true, but partly she’s certainly lying — just for the hell of it; although I don’t understand what’s so funny about it.’

Törless blushed; a strange thought had occurred to him. But then Božena returned with the schnapps and sat back down on the bed beside Beineberg. And she immediately resumed their earlier conversation.

‘... Yes, your mama was a beautiful girl. You don’t look at all like her, with your sticking-out ears. She was a merry one, too. She’ll have turned a few heads, I’m sure. And quite right, too.’

After a pause something particularly amusing seemed to have occurred to her: ‘Your uncle, the officer in the dragoons, you remember? Karl I think his name was, he was a cousin of your mother’s, how he used to court her in those days! But on Sunday, when the ladies were at church, I was the one he’d come after. Every few minutes I’d have to bring something else to his room. He was smartly dressed, I remember that, but he had a nerve ...’ She accompanied these words with a telling laugh. Then she expanded on this subject, which apparently gave her especial pleasure. She spoke in an impertinent and familiar way, apparently intent on sullying every word. ’... I mean, your mother liked him, too. If she’d had any idea what was going on! I think your aunt would have thrown both of us out of the house. That’s the way the fine ladies are, especially when they don’t have a husband yet. Dear Božena this and dear Božena that - that’s how it was all day long. But when the cook was expecting, you should have heard what they had to say! I reckon she thought the likes of us only washed their feet once a year. She said nothing to the cook, but I could hear them talking about it if I happened to be working in the room. Your mother would pull a face as though she wanted to drink nothing but eau-de-Cologne. And not long after that your aunt’s belly was up to her nose ...’

While Božena was talking, Törless felt almost defencelessly exposed to her vulgar insinuations.

He could see what she was describing vividly before him. Beineberg’s mother became his own. He remembered the bright rooms of his parents’ apartment.