Dream Story by Arthur Schnitzler

Author:Arthur Schnitzler
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9780141960128
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2009-11-24T16:00:00+00:00

V

It was four in the morning as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. The first thing he did was to go into his consulting-room and lock the mask and habit carefully away in a cupboard, and, as he wanted to avoid waking Albertine, took his shoes and clothes off before entering the bedroom. Carefully he turned up his bedside lamp. Albertine was lying quite still, her arms behind her neck, her half-open lips distressingly contorted by the play of shadows: it was a face unknown to Fridolin. He bent over her brow, which puckered at once as if in response to being touched, while her features became curiously distorted; then suddenly she laughed out loud so shrilly in her sleep that Fridolin was startled. Involuntarily he called out to her by name. As if in response, she laughed again in an utterly alien, almost uncanny manner. Fridolin called out to her more loudly. And now slowly and wearily her eyes opened wide, and she looked at him blankly as if she did not recognize him.

‘Albertine!’ he cried for the third time. Only then did she seem to come to her senses. An expression of revulsion and fear came into her eyes. She raised her arms in a futile and somehow desperate gesture, gaping at him openmouthed.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Fridolin with bated breath. She continued to stare at him in horror, so he added soothingly, ‘Albertine, it’s me.’ She took a deep breath, tried to smile and, letting her arms fall back on to the bed-cover, asked in a distant voice, ‘Is it morning already?’

‘Almost,’ replied Fridolin. ‘It’s past four. I’ve just got home.’ She didn’t say anything, so he continued, ‘The Court Counsellor is dead. He was dying when I got there… and of course I couldn’t… leave the relatives alone at once.’

She nodded, yet hardly seemed to have heard or understood as she stared through him vacantly. He couldn’t help feeling – irrational though the notion seemed to him at once – that she must be aware of what he had been through during the night. He bent over her and stroked her forehead. She shuddered slightly.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked again.

She just shook her head slowly. He stroked her hair. ‘Albertine, what’s wrong with you?’

‘I was dreaming,’ she said distantly.

‘What were you dreaming about?’ he asked mildly.

‘Ah, so many things. I can’t quite remember.’

‘Perhaps you might be able to.’

‘It was all so confused – and besides, I’m tired. But you must be tired too?’

‘Not in the least, Albertine, and I won’t get much sleep now. You know how it is when I get home this late – in fact the sensible thing would be to settle down at my desk at once – it’s precisely when it’s early in the morning like this that –’ He broke off. ‘But are you sure you wouldn’t like to tell me your dream instead?’ He smiled a little awkwardly.

‘You really should lie down and rest,’ she replied. He hesitated a moment, then did as she wished and stretched out beside her.

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