The Bridge on the Drina - PDFDrive.com Page 48

everyone present and his untiring and irresistible hospitality forced them all to

  take heart. Then he went back to Peter's wife. The plum brandy had in fact

  loosened the constriction in her throat. Now she was calmer and only gazed

  pensivelyinfrontofher.Mihailowouldnotleaveherside,butwentontalking

  toherastoachild,tellingherhowallthistoowouldpassandherPetercome

  back from Sarajevo alive and well, and they would all go home again to their

  houseatOkolište.

  'IknowPeter.Iwasathischristening.Theytalkedaboutthatchristeningfora

  long time. I remember it as if it had been today. 1 was a young man then, just ripeformarriage,whenIwentwithmyfather,whowaskumtoJanko'schildren,

  tochristenthatPeterofyours.'

  HetoldthetaleofthechristeningofPeterGatalwhicheveryonealreadyknew

  butwhichinthesestrangehoursseemedasifnewtothem.

  The men and women drew closer to listen, and in listening forgot their danger

  andpaidnoattentiontothesoundofthegunsasoldMihailotoldhistale.

  Inthegoodtimesofpeace,whenthefamousPopNikolawaspriestinthetown, JankoGatalofOkolište,aftermanyyearsofmarriageandawholesuccessionof

  daughters,hadason.OnthefirstSundayafterthebirth,theybroughtthechildto

  be christened and besides the joyous father and the kum, a number of relatives and neighbours came too. Even on the way down from Okolište they stopped

  often and had a nip from the kum's big flat flask of plum brandy. When on crossing the bridge they came to the kapia, they sat down for a short rest and anothernip.Itwasacolddayinlateautumnandtherewasnocoffeemakeron

  the kapia, norhadthetownTurkscometheretositanddrinkcoffee.Therefore

  the people of Okolište sat down as if they were at home, opened their bags of

  foodandbeganafreshflaskofplumbrandy.Toastingoneanothercordiallyand

  eloquently, they forgot all about the baby and the priest who was to christen it

  after the service. As in those days—the seventies of last century—there were

  stillnobells,anddarednotbe,themerrypartydidnotnoticethepassingoftime

  andthattheservicehadlongbeenfinished.Intheirconversations,whereinthey

  boldly and at great length mingled the future of the baby with the past of its

  parents, time had no longer any importance or any measure. Several times the

  conscience of the kum smote him and he suggested that they should move on, buttheotherssilencedhim.

  'Well, friends, let us eo and finish what we have to do, by the law and the

  Christianfaith,'mutteredthe kum.

  'Why the hurry, in God's name; no one in this parish has ever stayed

  unchristened,'answeredtheothersandeachofferedhimadrinkfromhisflask.

  Thefathertooatonetimetriedtohurrythemon,butintheendtheplumbrandy

  silencedandreconciledthemall.Hiswifewhouptillthenhadbeenholdingthe

  babyinherarmswhichwerebluefromcold,nowputitdownonthestoneseat

  and wrapped it in a coloured shawl. The baby was as quiet as if it were in its cradle,nowsleeping,nowopeningitseyesinquisitivelyasiftotakepartinthe

  generalgaiety('Onecanseethatheisatruetownsman,'saidthe kum. 'Heloves

  goodcompanyandfun.').

  'Yourhealth,Janko,'shoutedoneoftheneighbours.'Mayyoursonbeluckyand

  live long. God grant that he do you honour among the Serbs in all good and

  prosperity.Godgrantthat....'

  'Howwoulditbeifwegotonwiththechristening?'interruptedthefather.

  'Don't worry about the christening,' they all cried and once more passed round

  theflaskofplumbrandy.

  'Ragib Effendi Borovac has never been christened either, but you see what a

  fellow he is; his horse bends under him,' shouted one of the neighbours amid

  generallaughter.

  Butiftimehadlostallmeaningforthemenonthe kapia, ithadnotdonesofor

  Pop Nikola, who had till then been waiting in front of the church, but by this

  time had grown angry. He wrapped his fox-skin cape about him and marched

  downfromMejdanintothetown.Theresomeonetoldhimthatthemenwiththe

  childwereonthe kapia. Hewenttheretogivethemagoodbrowbeating,ashe

  well knew how, but they welcomed him with so much heartfelt and sincere

  respect,withsuchsolemnexcusesandwarmwishesandgoodwordsthateven

  PopNikola,whowasahardandsevereman,butarealtownsmanatheart,gave

  wayandacceptedadrinkfromaflaskandsomesnacks.Hebentoverthebaby

  andcalleditlittlebabynames,whilethechildlookedupcalmlyatthehugeface

  withitsbigblueeyesandbroadreddishbeard.

  Itwasnotquitetrue,astheysaid,thatthelittleonewaschristenedthenandthere

  onthe kapia, butitistruethattheystayedtherealongtimetalking,drinkingand

  proposingmanytoasts.Itwasnotuntillateintheafternoonthatthewholegay

  company made its way up to Mejdan and the church was opened and

  the kum, stutteringandunsureofhiswords,renouncedthedevilinthenameof

  thenewtownsman.

  'Itwassowechristened kum Peter,mayheremainsafeandsound.Hehasnow

  passed his fortieth year and as you see has lacked for nothing,' old Mihailo

  ended.

  Everyone accepted another coffee and a glass of plum brandy, forgetting the

  realityofthemomentwhichmightsweepthemallaway.Alltalkedmorefreely

  andeasily.Somehowitnowseemedcleartothemthattherewereotherthingsin

  life, more joyful and human things, than this darkness, fear and murderous

  shooting.

  Sothenightpassedandwithitlifewenton,filledwithdangerandsufferingbut

  stillclear,unwaveringandtruetoitself.Ledonbyancientinheritedinstinctthey

  brokeitupintomomentaryimpressionsandimmediateneeds,losingthemselves

  completely in them. For only thus, living each moment separately and looking

  neither forward nor back, could such a life be borne and a man keep himself

  aliveinhopeofbetterdays.

  Sothedaybroke.Thatmeantonlythattheartilleryfirebecamemoreintenseand the senseless and incomprehensible game of war continued. For in themselves

  days no longer had either name or sense; time had lost all meaning and value.

  Men knew only how to wait and to tremble. Save for that, words, work and

  movementshadallbecomeautomatic.

  So, or similarly, did men live in the steep quarters below the Fortress and at

  Mejdan.

  Below,inthemarketplaceitself,fewcitizenshadremained.Fromthefirstdayof

  the war there had been an order that all shops must remain open so that the

  soldiersinpassingcouldmakeminorpurchases,andevenmoretoprovetothe

  citizens that the war was far away and presented no danger to the town. That

  order had remained in force, no one knew why, even now during the


  bombardment,buteveryonefoundsomegoodexcusetokeephisshopclosedfor

  the greater part of the day. Those shops which were near the bridge and the

  Stone Han, like those of Pavle Ranković and Alihodja, were closed all day for

  theyweretooexposedtothebombardment.Sotoo,Lotte'shotelwascompletely

  desertedandclosed,itsroofhadbeendamagedbyshell-fireandthewallspitted

  withshrapnel.

  Alihodjaonlycamedownfromhishouseonthehillonceortwiceadaytoseeif

  everythingwereinorder,andthenreturnedhome.

  Lotte and her whole family had left the hotel on the first day after the

  bombardmentofthebridgebegan.TheycrossedtotheleftbankoftheDrinaand

  tookrefugethereinalargenewTurkishhouse.Thehousewassomewayfrom

  the road, sheltered in a hollow and surrounded by dense orchards from which

  onlyitsredroofemerged.Itsownerwithallhisfamilyhadgonetothevillages.

  Theyhadleftthehotelatdusk,whenasaruletherewasacompletelullinthe

  bombardment. Of the staff, the only one who remained was the loyal and

  unchanging Milan, an old bachelor but always immaculately turned out. For a

  longtimepasttherehadbeennooneforhimtothrowoutofthehotel.Allthe

  others,asoftenhappensinsuchcircumstances,hadfledassoonasthefirstshell

  whistled over the town. As always, in this transplantation also, Lotte had

  controlled and arranged everything, personally and without opposition. She

  decidedwhatwasmostnecessaryandmostvaluabletotakewiththem,andwhat

  to leave behind, what each should wear, who was to carry Deborah's crippled

  and feeble-minded son, who was to look after Deborah herself, weeping and

  sickly,andwhotakecareoftheportlyMina,whowasoutofhermindfromfear.

  So, taking advantage of the darkness of the hot summer night, all of them—

  Lotte,Deborah,ZahlerandMina—crossedthebridgewiththeirfewbelongings

  and the sickly child on a pushcart, with their cases and bundles in their hands.

  After thirty years the hotel was now for the first time completely closed and

  remained without a living soul in it. Darkened, damaged by the shell-fire, it

  alreadylookedlikearuin.Theytoo,assoonastheymadetheirfirststepsacross

  the bridge, aged or weak, crippled or fat, bow-legged or unaccustomed to

  walking, suddenly seemed like Jewish refugees who had been walking all the

  roadsoftheworldinsearchofrefuge.

  SotheycrossedtothefartherbankandcametothebigTurkishhousetospend

  thenight.TheretooLottearrangedeverythingandputeverythinginorder,their

  refugeeluggageandthemselves.Butwhenitwastimeforhertoliedowninthat

  strangehalf-emptyroom,withoutherthingsandherpaperswithwhichshehad

  spent her life, her heart failed her and for the first time since she had been

  conscious of her own existence, her forces all at once gave way. Her scream

  echoedthroughtheemptyTurkishhouse,somethingthatnoonehadeverheard

  orsuspectedcouldexist.Lotte'sweepingwasterrible,heavyandstifledlikethat

  ofaman,uncontrolledanduncontrollable.Thewholefamilywasovercomewith

  astonishment. At first there was an almost religious silence and then a general

  weeping and wailing. For them the breakdown of Aunt Lotte's forces was a

  heavierblowthanthewaritselfandtheflightandthelossofhomeandproperty,

  for with her it was possible to surmount and overcome everything but without

  hertheycouldthinkofnothinganddonothing.

  When the next day dawned, a brilliant summer day, filled with the singing of

  birds,withrosycloudsandheavydew,insteadoftheonetimeLotte,whoupto

  the day before had controlled the destinies of all her family, there remained

  huddled on the floor a weak old Jewess who could not look after or care for

  herself, who shivered from reasonless fear and who wept like a child, not

  knowinghowtosayofwhatshewasafraidortellwhatitwasthatpainedher.

  Then another miracle took place. That old, cumbersome, drowsy Zahler, who

  even in his youth had never had a will of his own but had been content to let

  Lotteguidehimasshedidalltherestofthefamily,whoinfacthadneverbeen

  young,nowrevealedhimselfastherealheadofthefamily,withmuchwisdom

  andresolution,capableofmakingthenecessarydecisionsandwithenoughforce

  to put them into practice. He consoled and looked after his sister-in-law like a

  sickchildandtookcareofeveryoneasshehaddonerightuptothedaybefore.

  He went down into the town during a lull in the bombardment and brought

  necessary food, goods and clothing from the deserted hotel. He found a doctor somewhere and brought him to the sick woman. The doctor diagnosed that the

  sickoldwomanhadhadacompletenervousbreakdown,andsaidthatsheshould

  be taken somewhere else as quickly as possible, outside the area of military

  operations, and prescribed some drops. Zahler arranged with the military

  authoritiestogetacartandtransportthewholefamilyfirsttoRogaticaandthen

  to Sarajevo. It was only necessary to wait a day or two until Lotte was fit to

  travel.ButLottelayasifparalytic,weptatthetopofhervoiceandmutteredin

  herpicturesqueandmangledlanguagedisconnectedwordsofutterdesperation,

  fear and repulsion. Deborah's unlucky child crawled around her on the bare

  floor, looked inquisitively into his aunt's face and called to her with those

  incomprehensible cries which Lotte had once understood so well and to which

  shedidnotnowreply.Sherefusedtoeatanythingortoseeanyone.Shesuffered

  terribly from strange hallucinations of purely physical suffering. Sometimes it

  seemedtoherthattwoplanksbeneathhersuddenlyopenedlikeatrapdoorand

  that she fell between them into an unknown abyss and that, save for her own

  screams,therewasnothingtosaveherandsupporther.Atothertimesitseemed

  toherthatshehadinsomewaybecomehuge,butlightandverystrong,asifshe

  hadgiant'slegsandpowerfulwingsandranlikeanostrich,butwithstepslonger

  thanfromVišegradtoSarajevo.Theseasandriverssplashedunderhertreadlike

  puddles, and towns and villages cracked under her steps like gravel and glass.

  That made her heart beat fiercely and her breath come in gasps. She did not

  knowwherethatwingedracewouldtakehernorwhereitwouldstop,sheonly

  knewthatshewasescapingfromthosedeceivingplankswhichopenedbeneath

  herwiththespeedoflightning.Sheknewthatshetroddownandleftbehindher

  a land in which it was not good to stay and that she stepped over villages and

  greattownsinwhichmenliedandcheatedwithwordsandfigures.Whenthen-

  words became involved and their figures entangled, they at once changed their


  game,asaconjurorchangeshisscene,andcontrarytoallthathadbeensaidor

  wasexpected,gunsandriflesadvancedwithother,newmenwithbloodshoteyes

  with whom there could be no conversation, no compromise and no agreement.

  Facedwiththisinvasionshewassuddenlynolongerapowerfulandgiantbird

  that ran, but a weak, defenceless poor old woman on the hard floor. And these

  peoplecameinhordes,inthousands,inmillions;theyshot,theycutthroats,they

  drowned people, they destroyed without mercy or reason. One of them was

  bending over her; she could not see his face but felt the point of his bayonet

  pressedonthatspotwheretheribsseparateandapersonissoftest.

  'Ah..a..a..a..aah!No,don't!Don't!'Lottewokewithashriekandtorepieces

  outofthethingreyshawlthatcoveredher.

  Thelittlecretinsquattedthere,leaningagainstthewall,andwatchedherwithhis

  black eyes in which was more curiosity than fear or sympathy. Mina burst in

  from the next room, reassured Lotte, wiped the cold sweat from her face and

  gaveherwatertodrinkintowhichshecarefullynumberedthedropsofvalerian.

  The long summer day over the green valley seemed endless, so that one could

  notrememberwhenithaddawnedorbelievethatitwouldeverbedusk.Herein

  the house, it was warm but not oppressive. Steps echoed in the house; other

  citizenskeptarrivingfromthetownorsomesoldierorofficerwanderedabout.

  There was food and fruit in abundance. Milan brewed coffee continually. It

  mightallhaveseemedlikesomeextendedfestivalvisittothevillages,haditnot

  been for Lotte's despairing scream which broke out from time to time and the

  sullenthunderofthegunswhichsoundedinthatshelteredhollowlikehowlsof

  rage which showed that all was not well with the world, that universal and

  individualmisfortunewasnearerandgreaterthanitseemedinthewideserenity

  oftheday.

  ThatwaswhatwarhaddonetoLotte'shotelanditsoccupants.

  PavleRanković'sshopwasalsoshut.OntheseconddayofthewarPavle,with

  otherprominentSerbs,hadbeentakenasahostage.Someofthemwereatthe