The Tanners

Klara was in tears over his declaration. She had long since drawn him close to her and with her beautiful hands, which had grown cool in the night air, was touching his burning cheeks. “What you just said to me, there was no need for you to say it, I knew these things already, already knew them, already — knew.” —Her voice took on that tenderness we employ when we wish to convince animals we’ve hurt a little to feel love and trust for us again. She was happy, her soft voice resonating with long high notes of joy. Her entire body appeared to be speaking when she said: “You do well to love me now that I’m compelled to love. Now my love will be twice as joyful. Perhaps I shall be unhappy some day, but how blissful I’ll be in my unhappiness. Only once in our lives do we women feel joyous at being made unhappy, but we know how to savor this unhappiness. But how can I be speaking to you of pain? Just look how indignant I am at having spoken like this — how can I dare to have you at my side and not believe in my own happiness? You make a person believe, you make belief possible. Remain my friend always. You are my sweet boy. Your hair glides through my hands, and your head, full of such unfathomable thoughts of friendship, rests in my lap. How beautiful this makes me feel; you’re making me feel like this — you must kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me on the mouth. I wish to compare your kisses, Kaspar’s and yours. I want to imagine it is him kissing me when you kiss me. A kiss is such a wonderful thing. If you kiss me now, it will be a soul kissing me, not a mouth. Did Kaspar tell you how I kissed him and how I asked him to kiss me too? He should kiss differently, he must learn to kiss like you, but no, why should he kiss like you? The way he kisses, I must kiss him back at once, but you kiss in such a way that a person has to let you kiss her again, just like now. Remain fond of me, remain as dear as you are, and kiss me one more time so that, as you said before, I’ll feel that you belong to me. A kiss makes this so comprehensible. This is how women like to be instructed. You have quite a good understanding of women, Simon. One shouldn’t be able to tell this just by looking at you. Now come, let us go.”

They got to their feet, and when they had walked a little way they met the three others. Hedwig took her leave of her brothers and Frau Klara. Sebastian accompanied the girl. When the two had walked some distance away, Klara quietly asked Kaspar: “Can you trust your sister to the company of this gentleman?” Kaspar replied: “Would I be allowing this if it weren’t all right?”

When they got home, they heard a shot ring out in the forest. “He’s shooting again,” Klara said quietly. “What’s the point of these shots?” Kaspar asked, and Simon, laughing, interjected the swift reply: “He’s shooting because things still seem odd to him. There’s still a sort of idea behind it, and when that ceases to interest him, he’ll soon give it up, you’ll see.” Once more they heard a shot. Klara furrowed her brow with a sigh, then attempted to suffocate her apprehension with laughter. But this laughter sounded harsh, and for a moment both brothers flinched.

“You’re acting strange,” Aggapaia said to his wife, suddenly appearing at the front door just as they were about to go in. She remained silent as though she hadn’t heard him. Then all of them went to bed.

This same night Klara, being unable to sleep, wrote a letter to Hedwig: