‘Reiting?’

Then Beineberg took the cap off the signalling lamp and cast a wide beam of light towards the place where the voice was coming from.

A few massive beams lit up with sharp shadows, and for a while nothing could be seen but a cone of dancing dust.

But the steps grew more definite and came closer.

Then - very close - another foot fell against the wood, and in the next moment, in the broad base of the cone of light, they saw - ash-pale in the murky light - Basini’s face.

 

Basini was smiling. A friendly, sweet smile. Rigidly fixed, like the smile in a painting, it rose out of the light’s frame.

Torless sat pressed against his beam, and felt the muscles in his eyes twitching.

Now Beineberg listed Basini’s disgraceful deeds; evenly, his voice hoarse.

Then came the question: ‘So, aren’t you at all ashamed?’ Then a glance from Basini to Reiting, apparently saying, ‘Now it’s time for you to help me.’ And at that moment Reiting struck Basini in the face with his fist, so that he tottered backwards, stumbled against a beam and fell. Beineberg and Reiting jumped after him.

The lamp had tipped over, and its light flowed, uncomprehending and lethargic, across the floor to Törless’s feet ...

From the sounds that reached him, Törless could make out that they were taking Basini’s clothes from his body and whipping him with something thin and flexible. They had clearly had all this prepared. He heard Basini’s whimpering and muted complaints, incessantly begging for mercy; finally all he heard was a groan, like suppressed weeping, and occasional muffled curses and Beineberg’s hot, passionate breathing.

He had not moved from his spot. At first he had been seized by a bestial desire to leap in with the others and deliver the beating, but he was restrained by the feeling that he was too late, that he would be superfluous. Paralysis lay heavy over his limbs.

He looked at the floor in front of him with apparent indifference. He didn’t pitch his hearing to follow the sounds, and he didn’t feel his heart beating more quickly than usual. With his eyes he followed the light that poured into a lake at his feet. Flecks of dust lit up, and an ugly little spider’s web. The beam of light went on seeping into the gaps between the beams and suffocated in a dusty, dirty gloom.

Törless would have spent an hour sitting like that without noticing. He wasn’t thinking about anything, and yet internally he was extremely busy. He was observing himself. But only as though he was really looking into the void, as though he was only seeing himself sideways-on, in a vague glow. Now, out of this vagueness - from the side - slowly, but ever more visibly, a desire was clearly emerging into consciousness.

Something made Törless smile. Then the desire grew even stronger. It drew him down from his seat - on to his knees; on to the floor. It drove him to press his body against the boards; he felt his eyes growing large like a fish’s eyes, he felt his heart knocking against the wood through his naked body.

Now there really was a massive excitement within Törless, and he had to cling to a beam to brace himself against the vertigo that was drawing him down.

Beads of sweat stood out on his brow, and he asked himself anxiously what all this could possibly mean.

Startled out of his apathy, he started listening out for the others through the darkness.

It had grown quiet over there; only Basini moaning quietly to himself as he felt for his clothes.

Torless felt pleasantly touched by those moaning sounds. A shudder ran up and down his back, as though on the feet of spiders; then it settled between his shoulder-blades and, with delicate claws, drew his scalp backwards. To his disgust Törless realized that he was in a state of sexual arousal. He thought back, and without being able to remember when it had started, he knew that it had accompanied that curious desire to press himself against the floor. It made him ashamed; but it had filled his head like a surging wave of blood.

Beineberg and Reiting felt their way back and sat down silently beside him. Beineberg looked at the lamp.

In that moment Törless was pulled back down again. It emanated from his eyes — he could feel that now - it went from his eyes, like a hypnotic stiffness, to his brain. It was a question, a ... no, a desperation ... oh, how well he knew it ... the wall, the visitors’ garden, the low hovels, that childhood memory ... it was the same! the same! He looked at Beineberg.