



Produced by David Widger





THE DEAD ARE SILENT

By Arthur Schnitzler

Copyright, 1907, by Courtland H. Young


HE could endure the quiet waiting in the carriage no longer; it was
easier to get out and walk up and down. It was now dark; the few
scattered lamps in the narrow side street quivered uneasily in the wind.
The rain had stopped, the sidewalks were almost dry, but the rough-paved
roadway was still moist, and little pools gleamed here and there.

"Strange, isn't it?" thought Franz. "Here we are scarcely a hundred
paces from the Prater, and yet it might be a street in some little
country town. Well, it's safe enough, at any rate. She won't meet any of
the friends she dreads so much here."

He looked at his watch. "Only just seven, and so dark already! It is an
early autumn this year... and then this confounded storm I..." He turned
his coat-collar up about his neck and quickened his pacing. The glass in
the street lamps rattled lightly.

"Half an hour more," he said to himself, "then I can go home. I could
almost wish--that that half-hour were over." He stood for a moment
on the corner, where he could command a view of both streets. "She'll
surely come to-day," his thoughts ran on, while he struggled with his
hat, which threatened to blow away. "It's Friday.... Faculty meeting
at the University; she needn't hurry home." He heard the clanging of
street-car gongs, and the hour chimed from a nearby church tower. The
street became more animated. Hurrying figures passed him, clerks of
neighboring shops; they hastened onward, fighting against the storm.
No one noticed him; a couple of half-grown girls glanced up in idle
curiosity as they went by. Suddenly he saw a familiar figure coming
toward him. He hastened to meet her.... Could it be she? On foot?

She saw him, and quickened her pace.

"You are walking?" he asked.

"I dismissed the cab in front of the theatre. I think I've had that
driver before."

A man passed them, turning to look at the lady. Her companion glared at
him, and the other passed on hurriedly. The lady looked after him. "Who
was it?" she asked, anxiously.

"Don't know him. We'll see no one we know here, don't worry. But come
now, let's get into the cab."

"Is that your carriage?"

"Yes."

"An open one?"

"It was warm and pleasant when I engaged it an hour ago."

They walked to the carriage; the lady stepped in.

"Driver!" called the man.

"Why, where is he?" asked the lady.

Franz looked around. "Well, did you ever? I don't see him anywhere."

"Oh--" her tone was low and timid.

"Wait a moment, child, he must be around here somewhere."

The young man opened the door of a little saloon, and discovered his
driver at a table with several others. The man rose hastily. "In a
minute, sir," he explained, swallowing his glass of wine.

"What do you mean by this?"

"All right, sir... Be there in a minute." His step was a little unsteady
as he hastened to his horses. "Where'll you go, sir?"

"Prater--Summer-house."

Franz entered the carriage. His companion sat back in a corner,
crouching fearsomely under the shadow of the cover.

He took both her hands in his. She sat silent. "Won't you say good
evening to me?"

"Give me a moment to rest, dear. I'm still out of breath."

He leaned back in his corner. Neither spoke for some minutes. The
carriage turned into the Prater Street, passed the Tegethoff Monument,
and a few minutes later was rolling swiftly through the broad, dark
Prater Avenue.

Emma turned suddenly and flung both arms around her lover's neck. He
lifted the veil that still hung about her face, and kissed her.

"I have you again--at last!" she exclaimed.

"Do you know how long it is since we have seen each other?" he asked.

"Since Sunday."

"Yes, and that wasn't good for much."

"Why not? You were in our house."

"Yes--in your house. That's just it. This can't go on. I shall not enter
your house again.... What's the matter?"

"A carriage passed us."

"Dear girl, the people who are driving in the Prater at such an hour,
and in such weather, aren't noticing much what other people are doing."

"Yes--that's so. But some one might look in here, by chance."

"We couldn't be recognized. It's too dark."

"Yes--but can't we drive somewhere else?"

"Just as you like." He called to the driver, who did not seem to hear.
Franz leaned forward and touched the man.

"Turn around again. What are you whipping your horses like that for?
We're in no hurry, I tell you. Drive--let me see--yes--drive down the
avenue that leads to the Reichs Bridge."

"The Reichsstrasse?"

"Yes. But don't hurry so, there's no need of it."

"All right, sir. But it's the wind that makes the horses so crazy."

Franz sat back again as the carriage turned in the other direction.

"Why didn't I see you yesterday?"

"How could I?"...

"You were invited to my sister's."

"Oh--yes."

"Why weren't you there?"

"Because I can't be with you--like that--with others around. No, I just
can't." She shivered. "Where are we now?" she asked, after a moment.

They were passing under the railroad bridge at the entrance to the
Reichsstrasse.

"On the way to the Danube," replied Franz. "We're driving toward the
Reichs Bridge. We'll certainly not meet any of our friends here," he
added, with a touch of mockery.

"The carriage jolts dreadfully."

"We're on cobblestones again."

"But he drives so crooked."

"Oh, you only think so."

He had begun to notice himself that the vehicle was swaying to and
fro more than was necessary, even on the rough pavement. But he said
nothing, not wishing to alarm her.

"There's a great deal I want to say to you today, Emma."

"You had better begin then; I must be home at nine o'clock."

"A few words may decide everything."

"Oh, goodness, what was that!" she screamed. The wheels had caught in a
car-track, and the carriage turned partly over as the driver attempted
to free it. Franz caught at the man's coat. "Stop that!" he cried. "Why,
you're drunk, man!"

The driver halted his horses with some difficulty. "Oh, no--sir--"

"Let's get out here, Emma, and walk."

"Where are we?"

"Here's the bridge already. And the wind is not nearly as strong as
it was. It will be nicer to walk a little. It's so hard to talk in the
carriage."

Emma drew down her veil and followed him. "Don't you call this windy?"
she exclaimed as she struggled against the gust that met her at the
corner.

He took her arm, and called to the driver to follow them.

They walked on slowly. Neither spoke as they mounted the ascent of the
bridge; and they halted where they could hear the flow of the water
below them. Heavy darkness surrounded them. The broad stream stretched
itself out in gray, indefinite outlines; red lights in the distance,
floating above the water, awoke answering gleams from its surface.
Trembling stripes of light reached down from the shore they had just
left; on the other side of the bridge the river lost itself in the
blackness of open fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance; they looked
over to where the red lights soared. A train with lighted windows rolled
between iron arches that seemed to spring up out of the night for an
instant, to sink back into darkness again. The thunder grew fainter and
more distant; silence fell again; only the wind moved, in sudden gusts.

Franz spoke at last, after a long silence. "We must go away."

"Of course," Emma answered, softly.

"We must go away," he continued, with more animation. "Go away
altogether, I mean