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Der dritte Mann - pp 113
Eine Stunde lang wartete er, auf- und abwandernd wegen der Kälte, innerhalb der Einfriedung des Riesenrads. Der zerstörte Prater, dessen nacktes Gebein aus der Schneedecke ragte, war nahezu menschenleer.
Near fragment in time
Und die Wohnung hab ich gesehn, auf mein Wort, irgendwo in Döbling, in der Nähe des Kuglerparks oder des Wertheimsteinparks, damit die Kinder immer frische Luft haben, ich war direkt drin in dieser anheimelnden Wohnung, die du dem Weib eingerichtet hast, und ich hab so manche Kleinigkeit wiedergefunden, die ich vermisse, und deine Kinder hab ich auch gesehn, richtig, es waren drei, so halbwüchsige Bankerte, widerliche, und sie sind um dich herumgesprungen und haben dich manchmal „Onkel“ genannt und manchmal ganz schamlos „Papa“ und du hast sie ihre Schulaufgaben abgehört und das Kleinste ist auf dir herumgeklettert, denn du warst ein glücklicher Papa, wie er im Buch steht.
pp 53 from Eine blaßblaue Frauenschrift by
Near fragment in space
We went then to the roundabouts. He chose to ride not on a dappled horse - I had noticed already his dislike of horses -but on a swan. He enjoyed it, but he didn't want to go round again. It was an experience complete in itself.
Then came the Wurschtlmann. He's so famous the Prater is named for him and you can see why. A hideous rubber man with a red nose who, for a few kreutzer one can thump and pound and wallop to one's heart's content, knowing that he will right himself undamaged and come up for more. Give him a name - that of your mean-minded boss, your bullying commanding officer - and you can punch him insensible and walk away, purged.
'Would you like to have a go, Sigismund?'
Even before he shook his head I saw him instinctively shield his hands, hiding them behind his back - and that was the first time I remembered the concert.
In the end, though, the Prater is about the ferris wheel whose fame has spread throughout the Empire. It towers over everything else, its carriages take you a hundred metres into the sky. To be up there and look down on the city is to ride with the gods.
So I asked him: 'What about the giant wheel? Would you like to go on it ?'
His hand tightened in mine. A tremor passed over his face. She had not been frightened even at six years old, but the boy was scared.
'The view is very beautiful from the top. You can see all Vienna.'
He stood still in the middle of the path. He tilted his head and gave a small sniff.
'I want very much to be brave,' he said in his low, cracked voice. 'I very much want it.'
And suddenly it all dissolved - my long antagonism, my restraint, the resentment that I felt at being asked for what belonged only to my daughter. I saw him sitting beside his dead mother in the Polish forest, waiting for her to wake … Saw him wobbling on the Encyclopedia of Art, playing and playing because he could no longer talk. I remembered the silent patience with which he'd endured his uncle's bullying, saw the graze on his forehead of which he'd said no word.
And I knelt beside him and took him in my arms.
'You are brave, Sigi. You're very brave, my darling,' I said - and kissed him.
So now I can tell you this. They are entirely exact descriptions of what happens, those ones in the fairy tales which tell you what occurs when you kiss an ugly frog, a hairy beast, with proper love.Sigi didn't kiss me back or cling to me. He just straightened his shoulders and then in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice, he said: 'Now we will go up,' - and then led me to the brightly painted carriages swaying high above our heads.
pp 177-178 from Madensky Square by
Then came the Wurschtlmann. He's so famous the Prater is named for him and you can see why. A hideous rubber man with a red nose who, for a few kreutzer one can thump and pound and wallop to one's heart's content, knowing that he will right himself undamaged and come up for more. Give him a name - that of your mean-minded boss, your bullying commanding officer - and you can punch him insensible and walk away, purged.
'Would you like to have a go, Sigismund?'
Even before he shook his head I saw him instinctively shield his hands, hiding them behind his back - and that was the first time I remembered the concert.
In the end, though, the Prater is about the ferris wheel whose fame has spread throughout the Empire. It towers over everything else, its carriages take you a hundred metres into the sky. To be up there and look down on the city is to ride with the gods.
So I asked him: 'What about the giant wheel? Would you like to go on it ?'
His hand tightened in mine. A tremor passed over his face. She had not been frightened even at six years old, but the boy was scared.
'The view is very beautiful from the top. You can see all Vienna.'
He stood still in the middle of the path. He tilted his head and gave a small sniff.
'I want very much to be brave,' he said in his low, cracked voice. 'I very much want it.'
And suddenly it all dissolved - my long antagonism, my restraint, the resentment that I felt at being asked for what belonged only to my daughter. I saw him sitting beside his dead mother in the Polish forest, waiting for her to wake … Saw him wobbling on the Encyclopedia of Art, playing and playing because he could no longer talk. I remembered the silent patience with which he'd endured his uncle's bullying, saw the graze on his forehead of which he'd said no word.
And I knelt beside him and took him in my arms.
'You are brave, Sigi. You're very brave, my darling,' I said - and kissed him.
So now I can tell you this. They are entirely exact descriptions of what happens, those ones in the fairy tales which tell you what occurs when you kiss an ugly frog, a hairy beast, with proper love.Sigi didn't kiss me back or cling to me. He just straightened his shoulders and then in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice, he said: 'Now we will go up,' - and then led me to the brightly painted carriages swaying high above our heads.