Elisabeth Langgasser
MARS
The incident related here took place in the year 1920
in
0.,
a small town in the French-occupied Rhineland.
One night the young wife of ' an innkeeper was lying awake
propped up against her bed-pillows, for she was in the last stages of
pregnancy and had trouble in breathing. Suddenly she thought she
heard the sound of drums in the distance, which seemed now to ap–
proach and now to recede according to the direction of the wind.
Frightened' for the space of one heartbeat-as is natural when
the night gives forth strange sounds-she recalled at once that vari–
ous houses in the town were soon to be requisitioned for billets. For
several days, the inscriptions
Hommes, Chevaux,
and
Officiers–
words that had an ominous significance for the inhabitants of the
drab little town-had gleamed from most of the doors. Figures were
chalked beside the words, indicating the number of available rooms
and the means of the owner of each house. The townspeople could
easily have changed or erased the figures, had not the radius of
their fear been greater than the visible reach of their arms.
Now, as
if
called to account, the innkeeper's wife once more re–
viewed all that had been done in the kitchen, cellar and rooms of
the inn, partly to prepare a proper reception for the uninvited guests,
and partly in observance of the ancient practice of concealing valu–
able possessions--though the past weeks had proved that there was
at least no danger of petty looting. On the eve of great events, how–
ever, it is human to fall back on primitive usages and meet what
is terrifying with childish games that flutter around Fate, boldly
desirous, like Cupid around the crest and armor of his father.
A gust of wind from the southwest bellied the starched window
curtains. At the same time the woman felt her child kicking vehe-
