THE DINING-ROOM
- Each new key means one more thing to worry about - Attilia comforted herself, looking at the unfinished rooms of her palace on the Tisa. She searched for Damascene in vain, not so that he would complete his task, but to prove to herself that "her child" was capable of building a fine palace. However, the builder was nowhere to be found. Attilia loved to wander around the building, daydreaming and gazing at the lovely things Damascene had prepared for her, but which lay in disarray all over the place. From time to time she imagined that Damascene had left a message for her somewhere, a letter. She could not believe he had simply left without a parting word. Though he did have a viable excuse. He was wounded, after all, but it hurt her that he had paid a single visit to her father's house, still bandaged up, and not sought her out. He had merely spoken briefly to her father about the other John, and that was all.
One afternoon, as she dozed on a sofa in the half-completed palace, Attilia was listening to the sounds around her as she lay in a semi-sleep. The entrance hall was full of different and as yet unarranged objects prepared for furnishing the palace, and one of the Nikolich servants was making an inventory of them out loud. He repeated the objects as he wrote them down on a sheet of paper:
- One sofa, one serving-table, two seats, one settle, one sketch, another sketch, one sieve, one saltcellar, one sauceboat, one spittoon....
In a flash it dawned on Attilia that all the things in the hall began with the same letter. It was as if Damascene was playing a word game with her. This did not really tell her anything, except that he had obviously remembered her father telling him at that first lunch how she used to play "word games" as a child. Or else, he had recalled that, as a little girl, she had played the game with "her child." This touched her deeply. So the message was there, but it was rather strange because not one word could be composed by moving from one 's' to the next.
Attilia suddenly had an idea. From a drawer she took out the key to the dining-room and ran to it. She was amazed when she got there. The walls were still bare brick, but the ceiling was completely finished and painted. It gleamed in its shining plaster and gold leaf. The scene it represented was a blue sky with the Sun, the Moon and the stars. The Sun looked the weirdest. It was in the shape of a gold clock whose hands had stopped at 10 to 10. There was something else extraordinary about the sky: it only had four stars. The lowest hung above a window in which there lay a little ship, as if encased in a glass prison. It was identical to the one Damascene had made for Attilia out of the bread-crust and the pipe cleaner that first day in her father's house.
- I wonder if it means a voyage - thought Attilia - Perhaps Damascene wants to send me on a journey! Perhaps I have to navigate by the stars so as not to get lost. But that can't be all...
Then she carefully examined the things placed along the walls. At first glance they seemed to have been piled up there without any order. She fixed her eyes on them for a moment and then breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that the objects in the dining-room began with a different letter from those in the hall. She had better try to work this out. She began chanting the first letter of the pieces of furniture from right to left of the door, but nothing happened. Then she tried again, this time from left to right. Her heart beat with joy when the message unrolled. It sounded quite incredible and incomprehensible, but it was there. The first letters of the objects spoken in turn could be fitted into three words:
"An arshin equals a hundred miles" - said the objects ranged along the dining-room walls in the Nikolich palace. And the sentence ended in a window containing a saw. Damascene had definitely left a message in the house. All she had to do was read it carefully.
- Yagoda - called Attilia cheerfully. She ordered the coachman to measure the distance between the first and second star on the dining room ceiling.
The coachman was quite astounded, but did as he was told.
- An arshin and a half - he shouted down from the ladder.
- Which town lies a hundred and fifty miles from here? - asked Attilia urgently.
- In which direction, Miss? We are, as you might say, at Ada. If we go south, who knows where we might end up - Belgrade, or even further....
- That means we know nothing - thought Attilia and fastened her eyes again on the clock-shaped Sun. What if we imagine the clock to be a compass? On her chest dangled the watch-compass on the golden neck chain. She opened it and looked. 10 to 10 is north-west! - she cried and asked Yagoda: Which town lies a hundred and fifty miles north-west of here?
- Budapest, Miss, what else?
- Go on measuring - Attilia shouted up to him. The distance between the second and third star on the dining-room ceiling was a little shorter than between the first two - an arshin and thirty. This meant going 130 miles further than Budapest. On Damascene's map of the heavens Attilia could now move without a compass, guided just by the stars. The second part of the path led her almost due West. That was clear from the stars on the dining-room ceiling.
The distance between the third and fourth star was barely more than one arshin, and, if Attilia's calculations were correct, measured another 100 miles. Again, the star led her due West. But, the fourth star was not painted the same as the others. It was in the shape of a gold cross.
- Harness the horses! - Attilia shouted to Yagoda and giggled to herself thinking:
- Surely Damascene's not sending me to a monastery?
The very next day she asked her father's permission to set off on a journey. He gave her the gold-lacquered coach, with Yagoda as coachman, the hounds and a mounted escort of his armed huntsmen. He dressed the men in ceremonial uniforms, and he sent a messenger ahead of them on a fast horse to find lodgings in Budapest. Attilia sat her borzoi from the music-room beside her in the coach and they set off early the following morning.
She spent the night in Pest, then ate a cake in a pastry-shop in Buda near the Church of St. Stephen. She bid Yagoda enquire what lay 130 miles west of Budapest.
- Well, what would you expect to find? - asked the pastry-cook, in great surprise. Everyone knows that - it's Vienna.
- Then it's on to Vienna!
And so young Miss Attilia continued onwards to Vienna, wondering what lay beyond that city, while it fell to Yagoda to find lodgings for her, his men, the horses and the dogs. In Vienna, strictly following Damascene's instructions from the dining-room ceiling, Attilia commanded that they travel on due West. At Sankt Pölten they halted in front of a shop full of gleaming violins. Above the shop front was a sign in gold letters saying:
This time Attilia asked the way forward herself.
If we go on from here towards Linz, is there a large monastery on the way - she enquired of the old violin-maker.
- Of course there is - said the old man. It's on your way, gnädiges Fräulein: Kremsmünster!
Five days later, Attilia was sitting in an inn in the town of Kremsmünster, writing a letter to her father. She wanted to paint for him something of the unforgettable experience she had had in this town over the previous three days.
Dear Father,
The town of Kremsmünster lies in a plain, beside the small river Krems. Although the town itself is not big, it has some very fine houses. Above the town on side is a hill on which is a large monastery, beautifully decorated. It is inhabited by Catholic monks, called Benedictines, whose superior is called the prelate (which corresponds to our archimandrite). The town belongs to the monastery. We hadn't got within two miles of the monastery when an emissary of the prelate appeared and later caught up with us. He is the Forstmeister (which means, chief of the huntsmen). He manages all the land and forests surrounding the town and monastery, including the animals, fishponds and fishing. He rode, followed by four hunters with rifles, who were elegantly and richly dressed. When he approached us, he asked who was in charge of our party, and since Yagoda rode ahead in his ceremonial uniform, he confirmed that it was he. At that the emissary doffed his green velvet cap with a white plume, and delivered greetings from the prelate, with the request that we do not kill the animals and birds. On hearing this request, Yagoda gave orders that the hunters should not fire their guns, nor the hounds hunt rabbits, and he guaranteed the Forstmeister his personal responsibility for the monastery estate on which he assured him there would be no damage.
He commanded the hunters leading the hounds to tie them up immediately. I ordered the servants to tether my hound, too, for if they had not been thus secured, they could have caused great damage, as we had never before seen so many rabbits and various birds, nor so many herds of deer and chamois.
The Forstmeister, seeing that we were extremely accommodating, bid his hunters kill two pheasants and bring them to him. This was an easy task as there were great numbers on the ground and in the trees. The hunters duly brought him two pheasants, and the Forstmeister presented them to our coachman. He went on with us for about half a mile, then said goodbye to Yagoda and rode off with his men into the town, with us following on. When we reached the town, we separated to our various lodgings.
That same evening the prelate sent two monks to us to invite me and all our company to lunch with him the next day. The following day we arrived at the monastery at the agreed time of around eleven o'clock.
The prelate received us very graciously in the antechamber and led us into his palace, asking us to take a seat. Coffee and brandy were served and whatever we requested was brought to us. The prelate talked of various things, of the war, of the country from which we had come, and so time passed until lunch. When we entered the palace, food was already on the table. The dishes were made of silver and the table itself marble, about one and a half meters long and two wide. The marbled streaks were of bright colors running into each other, red, green, blue, white and yellow. The smooth table edge, as broad as the palm of a hand, was gilded. In the center of the table stood a large shallow dish, almost an arshin wide. In the middle of the dish was a pipe which ran down into the central support beneath the table, and on top of the pipe was affixed a whale cast in solid silver. It represented the biblical whale which threw the prophet Jonah out of its abdomen. The whale alone, without the dish, they told us, weighed twenty pounds. Its scales were made of gold, intermixed with silver. On the inner edge of the great dish were two joined slender carts, one silver and the other gilded, on which were placed blue crystal glasses, decorated with gold leaf, and filled with beer. Later, wine was served from the same glasses.
As soon as we sat down, the prelate touched the dish with his hand, and all of a sudden two jets of water spouted out of the whale's nostrils. They were thin like a goose feather and rose to about two arshins high, while similar water jets gushed from the whale's teeth (two lower jets, as thin as thread, had already started to pour from the mammal's ears).
The palace ceiling was covered with paintings and gold leaf. The pictures were taken from various historical events. The walls were cut from stone blocks, and in one corner where the dining table was, stood a marble receptacle above which, set in the wall, was a gilded copper pipe with a tap. Cold water flowed from the tap, from which they filled the glasses and brought them to the table. The receptacle was used to wash the glasses later, and the water drained away at the bottom. The drapes on the doors and windows were luxurious, with gold fringes, tassels and cords. During lunch songs were played on a church organ. The floor was made of boards of walnut, inlaid with other woods.
After lunch, we withdrew the prelate's room, where coffee and dessert were served.
The morning after this visit, the prelate gave me an escort as far as Vienna, and further if I wished.
- He is a lieutenant, one of my most trusted men - added the prelate - you know him, he was at lunch with us.
That is how our journey ended, dear Father, in the best possible way, and who is coming home to you tomorrow but your daughter
Attilia
So Attilia set off back, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the visit to the prelate. His lieutenant did escort her on a handsome black stallion and in Sankt Pölten offered her lemonade in a wayside inn. That evening Attilia summoned the lieutenant, who had ridden alongside the carriage all day long, to sit inside it. Not slowing his horse's gallop for a moment, he threw the reins to the coachman Yagoda, withdrew his feet from the stirrups, stretched out along the horse's back, and let himself down onto the running-board of the coach, leaving his horse to gallop on.
The borzoi growled at first, then started to snuggle up to the lieutenant. The lieutenant settled back on the seat and took a book out of his sleeve.
- What, pray, is that, Lieutenant? - asked Attilia, laughing.
- Something that you will certainly wish to read and that will, I am sure, surprise you.
- I am not easily surprised, Lieutenant.
- Then read it.
The lieutenant's black-gloved hand with the gold snuffbox in the shape of a ring handed the book to Attilia. On the cover it read:
Attilia opened the book, and lieutenant showed her where to start. She read with increasing amazement. In the book was written, word for word, the following:
... the town of Kremsmünster lies in a plain, beside the small river Krems. Although the town itself is not big, it has some very fine houses. Above the town on one side is a hill on which is a large monastery, beautifully decorated. It is inhabited by Catholic monks, called Benedictines, whose superior is called the prelate (which corresponds to our archimandrite). The town belongs to the monastery. We hadn't got within two miles from the monastery when an emissary of the prelate appeared and later caught up with us. He is the Forstmeister (which means, chief of the huntsmen). He manages all the land and forests surrounding the town and monastery, including the animals, fish farms and fishing. He rode, followed by four hunters with rifles, who were elegantly and richly dressed.
With consternation and horror, Attilia continued reading the description of that visit to Kremsmünster in 1744. In exactly the same words, everything that was described in the book was identical to the letter she had written to her father. The deer, the chamois, the encounter with the Forstmeister and his hunters, the tying of the hound, how the forstmeister and his men had shot the pheasants and presented them to the travelers, the sumptuous lunch at the prelate's palace, the silver dishes and marble table, the whale-shaped fountain with the golden scales... and finally, the songs played on the church organ. The extract ended with the words:
After lunch, we withdrew to the prelate's room, where dessert and coffee were served.
Attilia sat for a time on the seat covered with velvet the color of her hair. She held the book in her hands, not saying a word. Everything in the book was the same as what had just happened in her own life.
- Good Heavens, where did you find this? And who is this Pishchevich? Is he a cousin of yours? - asked Attilia in astonishment, handing the book back to her fellow-traveler with a slight shiver.
- Even the number of the pheasants they gave us is the same. I don't know anymore if it was I who visited the prelate two days ago, or a century ago and if I have just come out of Kremsmünster or out of this book.
- Right out of this book, my lovely Miss Attilia - said the lieutenant and continued - You must have had a lot of admirers in Kremsmünster....
- Yes, I did. But wait...let me collect myself together. You really have surprised me.... Yes, in Kremsmünster one young man especially intrigued me.... By the name of Alexander.
- Tell me about it, for you now surprise me. And I, too, am not easily surprised, Miss Attilia.... Go on, I am ready
- Do you really want to know?
- I'm listening
- And so you should - said Attilia and giggled.
- So, one fine morning, damn me, he comes over, this Alexander, good-looking, dark, and hairy, sits down on my bed with the flowers and talks to me, while devouring me with his eyes. Bit by bit. First, my tits. Then my mouth. He makes love to me and goes away. I ask myself what he wanted of me.... In the afternoon, there he is again, straight and black, soft hair and a hard ass. He sits on my bed with the flowers, murmurs something like a bubbling brook, smacks my tits, makes love to me and goes away. I don't know what he wanted or why he comes.... In the morning, he comes round again, handsome, well-built, shoulders like a double-door wardrobe. He sits down on my bed with the flowers. He touches me all over, makes love to me and goes away. And so on, every day. I really don't know what he wanted of me. What do you think, Lieutenant?
At these words, the lieutenant burst into peals of laughter, embraced Attilia, and said:
- I know what he wanted. He wanted to propose to you, Miss Attilia.
With these words, the lieutenant pulled Attilia over onto his lap and slapped her little breasts and Attilia whispered ecstatically into his ear:
- Quick, catch me up! I'm going to finish!
A few moments after the climax of their lovemaking, Miss Attilia surrendered her relaxed self to the swaying of the carriage and, cuddled in her lover's arms, thought:
- I'll find no better Alexander than this one!
From where she lay she could not see the fondling hand of her fiancé. Inside his glove in place of a forefinger was - a silver thimble.
(If you have not read The Bedchamber, proceed to that chapter. If you have, then this is the end of the story.)