child stood, and stared into nothing.
'You are worried that you are leaving your friends. I understand, but everything has happened so fast and one cannot leave a forge idle ... '
The child made a rush for the door.
'Of course, you wish to say farewell. But hurry – we leave at five.'
Into the setting sun she ran. Into the wind that whipped trees and flowers, that tossed leaves and papers into the air ... A ribbon on a braid fell free and skeins of hair slashed her face and into her eyes. She ran, she pushed past workers holding their hats, past woman with shopping bags ... Panting and gasping, she entered the Reinerstrasse . What if he's not there? He wasn't yesterday or the day before ... Please God let him be there ... Please ... Please...
The man was there.
The child held her head in her hands, her chest was heaving, she didn't – couldn't speak ...
'What has happened?' he asked.
'Leaving,' she mouthed ...
'Leaving what?'
She dropped her head.
'The town?'
She nodded.
'Your Vater – he is no longer with the army?'
She nodded.
'He has a position, where?'
The child staggered to the small table. Wrote 'Wiener Neustadt'.
'I see. And you have come to tell me this. And when are you leaving? In a month? A week? Tomorrow? ... Now?'
'Yes.'
'Ah –'
'I don't want to ... I don't want to go ... be away from you ... from the music ... 'The pencil dropped to the floor.
The man smiled, a smile that was both tender and sad. 'No-one has ever wept for me –' he murmured. He took the child by the hand. 'Bless you for that. Now, dry your eyes, you don't want your papa to see tears –'
The child took the handkerchief, ran a hand over her eyes, stumbled towards the door ...
'Wait!'
She stopped.
'Write your name.'
She picked up the pencil and wrote. Again she moved to the door. ' Auf Wiedersehen ,' she whispered.
Along the street she rushed, then stopped. Once more she had heard his voice. 'God keep you, Little One,' he called.
From the house in the Reinerstrasse for the last time, she ran. Still sobbing, she entered the marketplace. She leaned against the trunk of a tree until her breathing steadied.
She was only a child, yet she was learning the greatest of all life's wisdoms. That it is not pain, or even cruelty that makes a heart break. It is love.
Outside the house in the street by the granary, the cart was waiting ...
PART 2
The Worker on the
Factory Floor
One
In Wiener Neustadt the day was coming to an end.
At a factory in the industrial part of the town the gates had opened and the workers were tumbling out. Trailing behind them were two girls of about fourteen. They ambled across the yard and into the street.
One was dark and one was fair and each wore her hair with side curls, as was the fashion ...
They came to a corner, waved their goodbyes and went their own ways.
The fair girl crossed the street and proceeded to cut through a field. Here and there clusters of purple and pink told of violets and cyclamens. She bent to pick some, choosing only those perfect in size and shape; wound them into a bunch and tied them together with a length of wool.
It was spring. The time of rebirth, the most beautiful of the seasons. She breathed its soft air and in an old oak's trembling leaves, heard music that told of the joy of it ...
The field led to a graveyard. The girl pushed at the listing gate. She moved through waves of grass, past ancient and forgotten tombs, by angels with broken wings and empty urns, to where the new headstones stood.
At one she stopped. She brushed the stone free of dust and leaves and set down the blooms.
She stood quietly. She heard the sounds of silence; saw the spring colours glow in the evening sun. She lifted her fingers to her lips and placed a kiss on the warm stone.
This she did every day ...
She moved away. Soon night would fall and her father would be hungry when he arrived home.
There was a time when he would have gone to the tavern. But that was in another place
'You are worried that you are leaving your friends. I understand, but everything has happened so fast and one cannot leave a forge idle ... '
The child made a rush for the door.
'Of course, you wish to say farewell. But hurry – we leave at five.'
Into the setting sun she ran. Into the wind that whipped trees and flowers, that tossed leaves and papers into the air ... A ribbon on a braid fell free and skeins of hair slashed her face and into her eyes. She ran, she pushed past workers holding their hats, past woman with shopping bags ... Panting and gasping, she entered the Reinerstrasse . What if he's not there? He wasn't yesterday or the day before ... Please God let him be there ... Please ... Please...
The man was there.
The child held her head in her hands, her chest was heaving, she didn't – couldn't speak ...
'What has happened?' he asked.
'Leaving,' she mouthed ...
'Leaving what?'
She dropped her head.
'The town?'
She nodded.
'Your Vater – he is no longer with the army?'
She nodded.
'He has a position, where?'
The child staggered to the small table. Wrote 'Wiener Neustadt'.
'I see. And you have come to tell me this. And when are you leaving? In a month? A week? Tomorrow? ... Now?'
'Yes.'
'Ah –'
'I don't want to ... I don't want to go ... be away from you ... from the music ... 'The pencil dropped to the floor.
The man smiled, a smile that was both tender and sad. 'No-one has ever wept for me –' he murmured. He took the child by the hand. 'Bless you for that. Now, dry your eyes, you don't want your papa to see tears –'
The child took the handkerchief, ran a hand over her eyes, stumbled towards the door ...
'Wait!'
She stopped.
'Write your name.'
She picked up the pencil and wrote. Again she moved to the door. ' Auf Wiedersehen ,' she whispered.
Along the street she rushed, then stopped. Once more she had heard his voice. 'God keep you, Little One,' he called.
From the house in the Reinerstrasse for the last time, she ran. Still sobbing, she entered the marketplace. She leaned against the trunk of a tree until her breathing steadied.
She was only a child, yet she was learning the greatest of all life's wisdoms. That it is not pain, or even cruelty that makes a heart break. It is love.
Outside the house in the street by the granary, the cart was waiting ...
PART 2
The Worker on the
Factory Floor
One
In Wiener Neustadt the day was coming to an end.
At a factory in the industrial part of the town the gates had opened and the workers were tumbling out. Trailing behind them were two girls of about fourteen. They ambled across the yard and into the street.
One was dark and one was fair and each wore her hair with side curls, as was the fashion ...
They came to a corner, waved their goodbyes and went their own ways.
The fair girl crossed the street and proceeded to cut through a field. Here and there clusters of purple and pink told of violets and cyclamens. She bent to pick some, choosing only those perfect in size and shape; wound them into a bunch and tied them together with a length of wool.
It was spring. The time of rebirth, the most beautiful of the seasons. She breathed its soft air and in an old oak's trembling leaves, heard music that told of the joy of it ...
The field led to a graveyard. The girl pushed at the listing gate. She moved through waves of grass, past ancient and forgotten tombs, by angels with broken wings and empty urns, to where the new headstones stood.
At one she stopped. She brushed the stone free of dust and leaves and set down the blooms.
She stood quietly. She heard the sounds of silence; saw the spring colours glow in the evening sun. She lifted her fingers to her lips and placed a kiss on the warm stone.
This she did every day ...
She moved away. Soon night would fall and her father would be hungry when he arrived home.
There was a time when he would have gone to the tavern. But that was in another place
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