JUST DREAM

Chapter 10

Tell me the rest of the story, now that you've started. A secret party? Closed affair? Nothing but invited guests?" "I don't know. The last time there were thirty people, and the first time only sixteen." "A ball?" "Of course, a ball." He seemed to be sorry he had spoken of the matter at all. "And you're furnishing the music for the occasion?" "What do you mean—for the occasion? I don't know for what occasion. I simply play—with bandaged eyes." "Nachtigall, what do you mean?" Nachtigall sighed a little and continued: "Unfortunately my eyes are not completely bandaged, so that I can occasionally see something. I can see through the black silk handkerchief over my eyes in the mirror opposite. . . ." And he stopped. "In other words," said Fridolin impatiently and contemptuously, but feeling strangely excited, "naked females." "Don't say females," replied Nachtigall in an offended tone, "you never saw such women." Fridolin hemmed and hawed a little. "And what's the price of admission?" he asked casually. "Do you mean tickets and such? There are none." "Well, how does one gain admittance?" asked Fridolin with compressed lips and tapping on the table with his fingers. "You have to know the password, and it's a new one each time." "And what's the one for tonight?" "I don't know yet. I'll only find out from the coachman." "Take me along, Nachtigall."

"Impossible. It's too dangerous." "But a minute ago you yourself spoke ... of being willing to ... I think you can manage all right." Nachtigall looked at him critically and said: "It would be absolutely impossible in your street clothes, for everyone is masked, men and women. As you haven't a masquerade outfit with you, it's out of the question. Perhaps the next time. I'll try to figure out some way." He listened attentively, peered again through the opening in the curtain and said with a sigh of relief: "There's my carriage, good-bye." Fridolin hung on to his arm and said: "You can't get away that way. You've got to take me along." "But my dear man . . ." "Leave it to me. I know that it's dangerous. Perhaps that's the very thing that tempts me." "But I've already told you—without costume and mask———" "There are places to rent costumes." "At one o'clock in the morning?" "Listen here, Nachtigall. There's just such a place at the corner of Wickenburg Strasse. I walk past it several times a day." And he added, with growing excitement: "You stay here for another quarter of an hour, Nachtigall. In the meantime I'll see what luck I have. The proprietor of the costume shop probably lives in the same building. If he doesn't—well, then I'll simply give it up for tonight. Let fate decide the question. There's a cafe in the same building. I think it's called Cafe Vindobona. You tell the coachman that you've forgotten something in the cafe, walk in, and I'll be waiting near the door. Then you can give me the password and get back into your carriage. If I manage to get a costume I'll take a cab and immediately follow you. The rest will take care of itself. I give you my word of honor, Nachtigall, that if you run any risk, I'll assume complete responsibility."

Nachtigall had tried several times to interrupt Fridolin, but it was useless—— The former threw some money on the table to pay his bill, including a generous tip which seemed appropriate for the style of the night, and left. A closed carriage was standing outside. A coachman dressed entirely in black with a tall silk hat, sat on the box, motionless. It looks like a mourningcoach, Fridolin thought. He ran down the street and reached the corner-house he was looking for a few minutes later. He rang the bell, inquired from the care-taker whether the costumer Gibiser lived in the house, and hoped in the bottom of his heart that he would receive a negative answer. But Gibiser actually lived there, on the floor below that of the costume shop. The care-taker did not seem especially surprised at having such a late caller. Made affable by Fridolin's liberal tip, he stated that it was not unusual during the carnival for people to come at such a late hour to hire costumes. He lighted the way from below with a candle until Fridolin had rung the bell on the second floor. Herr Gibiser himself opened the door for him, as if he had been waiting there. He was a bald-headed, haggard man and wore an old-fashioned, flowered dressing-gown and a tasselled, Turkish cap which made him look like a foolish old man on the stage. Fridolin asked for a costume and said that the price did not matter, whereupon Herr Gibiser remarked, almost disdainfully: "I ask a fair price, no more." He led the way up a winding staircase into the store. There was an odor of silk, velvet, perfume, dust and withered flowers, and a glitter of silver and red out of the indistinct darkness. A number of little electric bulbs suddenly shone between the open cabinets of a long, narrow passage, the end of which was enveloped in darkness. There were all kinds of costumes hanging to the right and to the left. On one side knights, squires, peasants, hunters, scholars, Orientals and clowns; on the other, ladies-at-court, baronesses, peasant women, lady's maids, queens of the night. The corresponding head-dresses were

on a shelf above the costumes. Fridolin felt as though he were walking through a gallery of hanged people who were on the point of asking each other to dance. Herr Gibiser followed him. Finally he asked: "Is there anything special you want? Louis Quatorze, Directoire, or Old-German?" "I need a dark cassock and a black mask, that's all." At this moment the clink of glasses rang out from the end of the passage. Fridolin was startled and looked at the costumer, as though he felt an explanation were due. Gibiser, however, merely groped for a switch which was concealed somewhere. A blinding light was diffused over the entire passage down to the end where a little table, covered with plates, glasses and bottles, could be seen. Two men, dressed in the red robes of vehmic judges, sprang up from two chairs beside the table and a graceful little girl disappeared at the same moment. Gibiser rushed forward with long strides, reached across the table and grabbed a white wig in his hand. Simultaneously a young and charming girl, still almost a child, wearing a Pierrette costume, wriggled out from under the table and ran along the passage to Fridolin who caught her in his arms. Gibiser dropped the white wig and grabbed the two vehmic judges by their robes. At the same time he called out to Fridolin: "Hold on to that girl for me." The child pressed against Fridolin as though sure of protection. Her little oval face was covered with powder and several beauty spots, and a fragrance of roses and powder arose from her delicate breasts. There was a smile of impish desire in her eyes.