Three Comrades, The by Erich Maria Remarque

Author:Erich Maria Remarque
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and company
Published: 2014-03-27T15:06:00.220225+00:00

The sticky warmth weighted in the room like lead.

"Has it stopped yet?" I asked.

"No," said the doctor.

Pat looked at me. I smiled. It fixed in a grimace. "Half an hour more," said I.

The doctor looked at his watch. "An hour and a half, if not two. It's raining."

The drops were rustling lightly down among the leaves and shrubs of the garden. I peered into the dark with blinded eyes. How long ago was it since we had got up, Pat and I, in the night and gone out into the garden and sat among the stocks and wallflowers and Pat had hummed children's lullabies? How long since the moon shone so white on the pathway and Pat, like a lithe animal, ran down it between the bushes?

For the hundredth time I went to the door. I knew it was useless; but it shortened the waiting. The air was misty. I cursed; I knew what that would mean for Köster. A bird cried out of the darkness.

"Shut up," I growled. Bird of ill omen! it flashed through my mind. "Rubbish," said I aloud. A beetle was droning somewhere—but it did not come nearer—it did not come nearer. It kept up an even, steady hum; now it stopped— now it was there again—and again. I suddenly trembled. That wasn't a beetle; that was a car a long way off, going into the curves at top speed. I stood stock-still—I held my breath and opened my mouth to hear better. Again . . . again . . . the light, high-pitched buzzing, as of an angry wasp . . . And now, stronger, I could clearly detect the sound of the compressor—then the sky line, stretched to breaking-point, suddenly broke into a soft infinity, burying under it might and fear and terror. . . .

I ran back to the house. Supporting myself in the doorway, "They're coming!" I said. "Doctor, Pat, they're coming! I can hear them already!"

The doctor had treated me as if I were half-crazed the whole evening. He came too and listened. "It'll be some other car," said he at last.

"No, I know the engine."

He looked at me irritably. He thought himself something of a car fan, apparently. With Pat he was patient and thoughtful as a mother; but when I mentioned cars he would glare at me through his spectacles and know better. "Impossible," said he shortly and went inside again.

I remained outside. I was trembling with excitement. "Karl! Karl!" said I. Muffled sounds, whining sounds in quick succession—the car must be in the village, going at breakneck speed between the houses. The whine grew fainter; it was behind the wood—and now it swelled again, racing, triumphant—a bright beam swept through the mist: the headlights; a roar like thunder . . . Incredulous, the doctor was beside me. Suddenly the full piercing light quite blinded us and with a scream of brakes the car pulled up at the garden gate.

I ran towards it. The professor stepped out at once. He took no notice of me, but went straight to the doctor.

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