Night Games: And Other Stories and Novellas by Arthur Schnitzler

of the dilapidated wooden shutters on
the windows. He saw the little gold ring with the semi-precious stone on
the ring finger of her right hand, which was lying on top of the red bedspread, and the slender, silver bracelet that encircled the wrist of the left
hand that she had stretched out toward him in waving him farewell from
the bed as he was leaving. She had pleased him so much that when he left
he was firmly determined to see her again. It happened, however, that
just at this time another woman had prior claims on him, a woman who,
since she was being kept by a banker, didn't cost him a kreuzer-a consideration given his circumstances. And so it happened that he had never
gone to Hornig's again, and had never made use of her married sister's
address, with whom she lived, and where he could have written her. Thus
he had never seen her again after that one night. But however much
might have changed in her life since then, she herself couldn't have
changed so much that she would calmly stand by and let happen-that
which had to happen if she rejected his plea.
    He had to wait an hour at the registry office before he held the slip
of paper with Leopoldine's address in his hand. Then he took a closed carriage to the corner of the street where Leopoldine lived, and climbed
down.

    The house was fairly new, four stories high, not prepossessing to
look at, and situated opposite a fenced-in lumber yard. On the second
floor, a neatly dressed maid opened the door. At his question of whether
Frau Wilram was at home, she looked at him hesitatingly, whereupon he
handed her his visiting card-Wilhelm Kasda, Lieutenant of the 98th Infantry Regiment, Alser Barracks. The maid came back at once with the
answer that Frau Wilram was very busy-what did the lieutenant want?
And only then did it occur to him that Leopoldine probably didn't know
his last name. As he was pondering whether he should present himself
simply as an old friend or facetiously as a cousin of Herr von Hornig, the
door opened and an elderly, poorly dressed man with a black briefcase
emerged and walked toward the outer door. Then a female voice called,
"Herr Krassny," which the latter, already on the staircase, did not seem to
hear. Then the woman who had called out came into the reception room
herself and called to Herr Krassny again, so that this time he turned
around. But Leopoldine had already noticed the lieutenant and had immediately recognized him, as her glance and her smile disclosed. She did
not look at all like the creature he remembered. She was now stately and
fuller of figure; yes, she even seemed to have become taller, and she
wore her hair in a simple and flat, almost severe style. But the oddest
thing of all was that on her nose she wore a golden pince-nez whose cord
she had wound around her ear.
    "How do you do, Lieutenant?" she said. And now he noticed that
her features were really quite unchanged. "Please go right in, I'll be
ready in a moment." She pointed to the door from which she had just
come, turned to Herr Krassny, and seemed to be admonishing him
sharply with regard to some commission, but in a voice so low that Willi
could not understand what she was saying. Meanwhile Willi entered a
large, light-filled room, in the middle of which stood a long table with
pens and ink, a ruler, pencils, and ledgers. On the walls to the right and
the left stood two tall filing cabinets, and on the rear wall, over a table
covered with newspapers and business prospectuses, hung a huge map of Europe. Willi was inadvertently reminded of the travel agency of a
provincial town in which he had once had some business. But a moment
later he saw the rundown hotel room with its dilapidated shutters and the
shabby pillowcase-and he felt very strange, almost as if he were in a
dream.

    Leopoldine entered, closed the door behind her, and, playing with
the pince-nez that she had now removed, extended her hand to the lieutenant in a