The Manticore

Dec. 21, Sun.: This morn. Liesl took me on a tour of the house, which was apparently built in 1824 by some forbear who had made money in the watch-and-clock business. The entrance hall is dominated by what I suppose was his masterpiece, for it has dials to show seconds, days of the week, days of the months, the months, the seasons, the signs of the zodiac, the time at Sorgenfrei and the time at Greenwich, and the phases of the moon. It has a chime of thirty-seven bells, which play a variety of tunes, and is ornamented with figures of Day and Night, the Seasons, two heads of Time, and God knows what else, all in fine verd-antique. Monstrous but fascinating, like Liesl, and she seems to love it. As we wandered through the house and climbed unexpected staircases and looked at the bewildering views from cunningly placed windows, I did my best to bring the conversation to the strange words of the Brazen Head about Father's death, but Liesl knows every trick of evasion, and in her own house I could not nail her down as I might in court. But she did say one or two things:

– You must not interpret too closely. Remember that I, speaking for the Head, had no time – not even ten seconds – to reflect. So I gave a perfectly ordinary answer, like any experienced fortune-teller. You know there are always things that fit almost any enquirer: you say those things and they will do the interpreting. "The woman he knew – the woman he did not know."… From what I know now, which is only what Ramsay has told me at one time or another, I would have said the woman he knew was your mother, and the woman he did not know was your stepmother. He felt guilty about your mother, and the second time he married a woman who was far stronger than he had understood. But I gather from the terrible fuss your stepmother made that she thought she must be the woman he knew, and was very angry at the idea that she had any part in bringing about his death… I really can't tell you any more than that about why I spoke as I did. I have a tiny gift in this sort of thing; that was why Eisengrim trusted me to speak for the Head; maybe I sensed something – because one does, you know, if one permits it. But don't brood on it and try to make too much of it. Let it go.

– My training has not been to let things go.

– But Davey, your training and the way you have used yourself have brought you at last to Zurich for an analysis. I'm sure Jo von Haller, who is really excellent, though not at all my style, has made you see that. Are you going to do more work with her?

– That's a decision I must make.

– Well, don't be in a hurry to say you will.

Went for a long walk alone this afternoon, and thought about Liesl's advice.

This eve. after dinner Eisengrim showed us some home movies of himself doing things with coins and cards. New illusions, it seems, for a tour they begin early in January. He is superb, and knows it. What an egotist! And only a conjuror, after all. Who gives a damn? Who needs conjurors? Yet I am unpleasantly conscious of a link between Eisengrim and myself. He wants people to be in awe of him, and at a distance: so do I.

Dec. 22, Mon.: I suppose Eisengrim sensed my boredom and disgust last night, because he hunted me up after breakfast and took me to see his workrooms, which are the old stables of Sorgenfrei; full of the paraphernalia of his illusions, and with very fine workbenches, at one of which Liesl was busy with a jeweller's magnifying-glass stuck in her eye… "You didn't know I had the family knack of clock-work, did you?" she said. But Eisengrim wanted to talk himself:

– You don't think much of me, Staunton? Don't deny it; it is part of my profession to sniff people's thoughts. Well, fair enough. But I like you, and I should like you to like me. I am an egotist, of course. Indeed, I am a great egotist and a very unusual one, because I know what I am and I like it. Why not? If you knew my history, you would understand, I think. But you see that is just what I don't want, or ask for. So many people twitter through life crying, "Understand me! Oh, please understand me! To know all is to forgive all!" But you see I don't care about being understood, and I don't ask to be forgiven. Have you read the book about me?