The Tanners

“She was a good-hearted woman. We children always, constantly still speak of her whenever and wherever we’re reunited. We live scattered all across this round, wide world, and this is excellent, for we all have such heads on us, you see, that they shouldn’t come together for very long. There’s a ponderousness to each of us that would be burdensome if we appeared together in human society. But this is something that, thank goodness, we avoid, and each of us knows perfectly well why that’s imperative. And yet we love one another with appropriate fraternal love. One of my brothers is a fairly prominent scholar, another a stock market specialist, and yet another nothing more than just my brother, for I love him more than a brother — and thinking of him, it never occurs to me to emphasize any of his qualities except simply the fact that he is my brother: mine, someone who looks just like me, and nothing more. I would like to live here in your home together with this brother of mine. The room is large enough for both of us. But no doubt this isn’t possible. What does the room cost?”

“What does your brother do?”

“He’s a landscape painter! How much would you charge for the room? — Oh, that much? This is assuredly not too expensive for this room, but for us it’s far too much. Besides which, come to think of it, now that I am peering at you more keenly: The two of us would hardly be suitable, strolling in and out of this house as though we belonged here. We are still so coarse, you’d be disappointed in us. What’s more, our habits are a bit rough on duvet covers, furniture, linens, window curtains, doorknobs and stair landings — you’d be horrified and would lose your temper with us, or perhaps you would forgive us and strive to turn the other cheek, which would be even more humiliating. I don’t wish to be the cause of your having trouble with us at some later point. Surely you would! Do hear me out. I can see it all perfectly clearly. Basically, the two of us have, in the long run, little respect for anything fine and delicate. People such as ourselves should be left standing before wealthy garden gates — free to make derisive remarks about all the splendor and attention to detail. We are great deriders! Adieu!”

The eyes of the beautiful woman had begun to gleam intensely, and now all at once she said: “I should like to take in you and your brother after all. As for the price, I am certain we can reach some agreement.”

“No, it’s best that we don’t.”

Simon was already heading downstairs. Then the lady’s voice called out after him: “Please stay a little longer.” And she hurried after him. At the bottom she caught up with Simon and forced him to stand still and listen to her: “What could you be thinking of, leaving again so soon. Can’t you see that I want, that I would like to keep the two of you? Even if you don’t pay a thing. What does it matter? Not at all, not at all, just come with me, come. Come into this room with me. Marie! Where are you? Bring in the coffee at once.”

Inside she said to Simon: “I wish to get to know you and your brother. How could you go running off like that? I am so often all alone in this isolated house that I feel frightened. My husband is always gone, off on some distant journey, he is an explorer and goes sailing off on seas the very existence of which his poor wife hasn’t even an inkling. Am I not a poor woman? What is your name? What’s the name of the other one, your brother? My name is Klara. Just call me Miss Klara. It pleases me to hear this simple name. Are you feeling a bit more trusting now? This would make me so, so very happy. Don’t you think we’ll be able to live together and get along? Certainly we’ll be able to — I think you must be quite gentle. I’m not afraid to have you in my home. You have honest eyes. Is your brother older than you?”

“Yes, he is older and a much better person than I am.”

“You are an honest man to say such a thing.”

“My name is Simon, and my brother is Kaspar.”

“My husband’s name is Agappaia.”

She turned pale as she spoke these words, but quickly pulled herself together and smiled.

Simon wrote to his brother Kaspar: