Read Online The End of the World in Breslau by Marek Krajewski - Free Book Online
Authors: Marek Krajewski
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with the same problem. It was Völlinger. Mock ran to him.
“I really have to talk to you,” Mock shouted over the din of a tram turning the corner. “Let’s go somewhere where you can’t see that cursed building. There’s a little bar here,” he pointed to a passage, sheltered by an arched vault, that lead to Stockgasse.
Escaping from the wind that raged in the narrow streets around the Town Hall, they entered a tavern at Stockgasse 10 bearing the sign petruske gastwirt. The place was filled to the rafters with students, carters, thieves and an assortment of petty thugs who swiftly made themselves scarce at the sight of Mock. What counted to Mock at that moment was not how they knew him, but the fact that they had freed up a table. He occupied it with Völlinger and nodded to a gloomy waiter, who clearly considered his job to be some kind of divine retribution. The sourpuss stood two large glasses of glühwein in front of them and retreated behind the bar, fixing his tormented eyes on an enormous jar of a cloudy suspension in which there swam herrings, gherkins and other hard-to-identify snacks.
“My dear Mock,” Völlinger took a draught of the clove speciality with obvious pleasure. “I have given you my expert astrological opinion. Analysing your and your wife’s cosmograms, I have marked out several dates for the possible conception of an heir. The first of these is in a few days’ time.”
“I thank you very much,” Mock said. “But let’s get back to bridge and the Griffins tenement …”
“I assure you I would never …” Völlinger could not get himself to utter the word “cheat”. “I wouldn’t dare …”
“Enough,” Mock interrupted him. “Tell me about your fears regarding the Griffins tenement.”
“I first saw it in a photograph.” Völlinger’s eyes skimmed over the pictures on the walls whose subjects were about as obvious as the contents of the jar. “I had just passed my school-leaving exams and was on my way to study medicine in Breslau. Since I had never been to the city before, I wanted to find out more about it. In a shop in Lauban, I was looking through a photographic album called The Old City of Breslau when I came across the Griffins tenement. I felt a rush of deadly fear and closed the book. I had experienced déjà vu; I realized I had often seen that building in a terrible nightmare. In this recurring dream I would be running up a staircase, away from someone. I would get outside onto the roof, look down, and see what appeared to be enormous white birds, and then I would get dizzy. I wouldn’t fall, but the dizziness would turn into a pain in my head which then usually woke me up. So when I saw the photograph I felt such searing fear that I even abandoned the idea of studying in this city. As you know, I studied in Leipzig and Berlin. I did, however, spend my final two terms in Breslau because it is closest to Lauban, where my deceased father, God bless him, suffered his last days in dreadful agony. One evening I was waiting for a droschka with some friends after leaving Lamla wine bar. I was rather tipsy, but I will never forget the acute fear I experienced when I realized we were standing outside that accursed building. My friends quickly caught on to my phobias and began to play practical jokes on me. They would engross me in conversation then lead me up to the building, or they would send me postcards of it … I tried to fight these fears with self-hypnosis. In vain. That’s it, Counsellor. I’m simply frightened of that tenement.”
Völlinger drank the last drops of his wine and began to struggle with his umbrella. Mock realized that the question he wanted to ask might compromise his intelligence, but he could not stop himself.
“Can you explain your fear regarding the building?” he asked, expecting a gibe from the astrologer, or an expression of regret, or, at best, a repetition of his words about the futility of self-hypnosis. But what he heard astounded
“I really have to talk to you,” Mock shouted over the din of a tram turning the corner. “Let’s go somewhere where you can’t see that cursed building. There’s a little bar here,” he pointed to a passage, sheltered by an arched vault, that lead to Stockgasse.
Escaping from the wind that raged in the narrow streets around the Town Hall, they entered a tavern at Stockgasse 10 bearing the sign petruske gastwirt. The place was filled to the rafters with students, carters, thieves and an assortment of petty thugs who swiftly made themselves scarce at the sight of Mock. What counted to Mock at that moment was not how they knew him, but the fact that they had freed up a table. He occupied it with Völlinger and nodded to a gloomy waiter, who clearly considered his job to be some kind of divine retribution. The sourpuss stood two large glasses of glühwein in front of them and retreated behind the bar, fixing his tormented eyes on an enormous jar of a cloudy suspension in which there swam herrings, gherkins and other hard-to-identify snacks.
“My dear Mock,” Völlinger took a draught of the clove speciality with obvious pleasure. “I have given you my expert astrological opinion. Analysing your and your wife’s cosmograms, I have marked out several dates for the possible conception of an heir. The first of these is in a few days’ time.”
“I thank you very much,” Mock said. “But let’s get back to bridge and the Griffins tenement …”
“I assure you I would never …” Völlinger could not get himself to utter the word “cheat”. “I wouldn’t dare …”
“Enough,” Mock interrupted him. “Tell me about your fears regarding the Griffins tenement.”
“I first saw it in a photograph.” Völlinger’s eyes skimmed over the pictures on the walls whose subjects were about as obvious as the contents of the jar. “I had just passed my school-leaving exams and was on my way to study medicine in Breslau. Since I had never been to the city before, I wanted to find out more about it. In a shop in Lauban, I was looking through a photographic album called The Old City of Breslau when I came across the Griffins tenement. I felt a rush of deadly fear and closed the book. I had experienced déjà vu; I realized I had often seen that building in a terrible nightmare. In this recurring dream I would be running up a staircase, away from someone. I would get outside onto the roof, look down, and see what appeared to be enormous white birds, and then I would get dizzy. I wouldn’t fall, but the dizziness would turn into a pain in my head which then usually woke me up. So when I saw the photograph I felt such searing fear that I even abandoned the idea of studying in this city. As you know, I studied in Leipzig and Berlin. I did, however, spend my final two terms in Breslau because it is closest to Lauban, where my deceased father, God bless him, suffered his last days in dreadful agony. One evening I was waiting for a droschka with some friends after leaving Lamla wine bar. I was rather tipsy, but I will never forget the acute fear I experienced when I realized we were standing outside that accursed building. My friends quickly caught on to my phobias and began to play practical jokes on me. They would engross me in conversation then lead me up to the building, or they would send me postcards of it … I tried to fight these fears with self-hypnosis. In vain. That’s it, Counsellor. I’m simply frightened of that tenement.”
Völlinger drank the last drops of his wine and began to struggle with his umbrella. Mock realized that the question he wanted to ask might compromise his intelligence, but he could not stop himself.
“Can you explain your fear regarding the building?” he asked, expecting a gibe from the astrologer, or an expression of regret, or, at best, a repetition of his words about the futility of self-hypnosis. But what he heard astounded
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