A Young Girl's Diary · Chapter 3First Year, Age Eleven to Twelve (2)
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
By the way, in the raffle I won a vase with 2 turtledoves and a bag of sweets and R. won a knife, fork and spoon. That annoyed him frightfully. Inspee won a fountain pen, just what I want, and a mirror which makes one look a perfect fright. A good job too, for she fancies herself such a lot.
August 29th. O dear, such an awful thing has happened. I have lost pages 30 to 34 from my diary. I must have left them in the garden, or else on the Louisenhohe. It’s positively fiendish. If anyone was to find them. And I don’t know exactly what there was on those pages. I was born to ill luck. If I hadn’t promised Hella to write my diary every day I should like to give up the whole thing. Fancy if Mother were to get hold of it, or even Father. And it’s raining so fearfully to-day that I can’t even go into the garden and still less on the Louisenhohe above all not alone. I must have lost it the day before yesterday, for I didn’t write anything yesterday or the day before. It would be dreadful if anyone were to find it. I am so much upset that I couldn’t eat anything at dinner, although we had my favourite chocolate cream cake. And I’m so unhappy for Father was quite anxious and Mother too and they both asked what was the matter with me and I nearly burst out crying before everyone. We had dinner in the hotel to-day because Resi had gone away for 2 days. But I couldn’t cry in the room before Father and Mother for that would have given the show away. My only hope is that no one will recognise my writing, for Hella and I use upright writing for our diary, first of all so that no one may recognise our writing and secondly because upright writing doesn’t use up so much paper as ordinary writing. I do hope it will be fine to-morrow so that I can hunt in the garden very early. I have been utterly in the dumps all day so that I didn’t even get cross when Inspee said: “Have you been quarrelling with your future husband?”
August 30th. It’s not in the garden. I begged Mother to let us go to Louisenhutte this afternoon. Mother was awfully nice and asked what I was so worried about, and whether anything had happened. Then I couldn’t keep it in any longer and burst out crying. Mother said I must have lost something, and this gave me an awful fright. Mother thought it was Hella’s letter, the one which came on Tuesday, so I said: No, much worse than that, my diary. Mother said: Oh well, that’s not such a terrible loss, and will be of no interest to anyone. Oh yes, I said, for there are all sorts of things written in it about R. and his society. Look here, Gretel, said Mother, I don’t like this way you talk about R.; I really don’t like you to spend all your time with the Warths; they’re really not our sort and R. is not a fit companion for you; now that you are going to the high school you are not a little girl any longer. Promise me that you’ll not be eternally with the Warths.—All right, Mother, I will break it off gradually so that nobody will notice. She burst out laughing and kissed me on both cheeks and promised me to say nothing to Inspee about the diary for she needn’t know everything. Mother is such a dear. Still 3 hours and perhaps the pages are still there.
Evening. Thank goodness! In front of the shelter I found 2 pages all pulped by the rain and the writing all run and one page was in the footpath quite torn. Someone must have trodden on it with the heel of his boot and 2 pages had been rolled into a spill and partly burned. So no one had read anything. I am so happy. And at supper Father said: I say, why are your eyes shining with delight? Have you won the big prize in the lottery? and I pressed Mother’s foot with mine to remind her not to give me away and Father laughed like anything and said: Seems to me there’s a conspiracy against me in my own house. And I said in a great hurry: Luckily we’re not in our own house but in a hotel, and everyone laughed and now thank goodness it’s all over. Live and learn. I won’t let that happen again.
August 31st. Really I’m not so much with the W’s and with R. I think he’s offended. This afternoon, when I went there to tea, he seized me by the wrist and said: Your father is right, you’re a witch. “You need a castigation.” How rude of him. Besides, I didn’t know what castigation meant. I asked Father and he told me and asked where I had picked up the word. I said I had passed 2 gentlemen and had heard one of them use it. What I really thought was that castigation meant tickling. But it is really horrid to have no one to talk to. Most of the people have gone already and we have only a week longer. About that castigation business. I don’t like fibbing to Father, but I really had to. I couldn’t say that R. wanted to give me a castigation when I didn’t know what it meant. Dora tells a lot more lies than I do and I always love catching her in a lie for her lies are so obvious. I’m never caught. It only happened once when Frau Oberst von Stary was there. Father noticed that time, for he said: You little rogue, you tarradiddler!
September 3rd. Such a horrid thing has happened. I shall never speak to R. again. Oswald is quite right in calling him a cad. If I had really fallen out of the swing I might have broken my leg 4 days before we have to start from home. I can’t make out how it all happened. It was frightful cheek of him to tickle me as he did, and I gave him such a kick. I think it was on his nose or his mouth. Then he actually dared to say: After all I’m well paid out, for what can one expect when one keeps company with such young monkeys, with such babies. Fine talk from him when he’s not 14 himself yet. It was all humbug about his being 15 and he seems to be one of the idlest boys in the school, never anything but Satisfactory in his reports, and he’s not in the fifth yet, but only in the fourth. Anyhow, we’ve settled our accounts. Cheeky devil. I shall never tell anyone about it, it will be my first and I hope my last secret from Hella.
September 6th. We are going home to-morrow. The last few days have been awfully dull. I saw R. once or twice but I always looked the other way. Father asked what was wrong between me and the Warths and R., so that our great friendship had been broken off. Of course I had to fib, for it was absolutely impossible to tell the truth. I said that R. found fault with everything I did, my writing, my reading aloud. (That’s quite true, he did that once) and Father said: Well, well, you’ll make it up when you say goodbye to-morrow. Father makes a great mistake. I’ll never speak a word to him again.
For her birthday, although it’s not come yet, Dora is to have a navy blue silk dustcloak. I don’t think the colour suits her, and anyhow she’s much too thin to wear a dustcloak.
September 14th. Hella came back the day before yesterday. She looks splendid and she says I do too. I’m so glad that she’s back. After all I told her about R. She was very angry and said I ought to have given him 2 more; one for the tickling and one for the “baby” and one for the “young monkey.” If we should happen to meet him, shan’t we just glare at him.
September 17th. Inspee has really got the silk dustcloak but I think the tartan hood looks rather silly. Still, I didn’t say so, but only that the cloak fitted beautifully. She has tried it on at least five times already. I don’t know whether Father really wants to treat her as a grown-up lady or whether he is making fun of her. I believe he’s only making fun. She doesn’t really look like a grown-up lady. How could she when she’s not 14 yet? Yesterday afternoon such a lot of girls were invited, and of course Hella was invited on my account and we had a grand talk. But most of them bragged frightfully about the country where they said they had been. We were 9 girls. But Hella is the only one I care about.
September 21st. School begins to-morrow. By the way, we have agreed to call it Liz [Lyzeum = High School] and not School. I’m frightfully curious.
September 22nd, 19—. School began to-day. Hella came to fetch me and we went along together. Inspee peached on us to Mother, saying we ran on in front of her. We don’t want her as governess. There are 34 of us in the class. Our teachers are a Frau Doktor, 2 mistresses, one professor, and I think a drawing mistress as well. The Frau Doktor teaches German and writing. She put us together on the 3rd bench. Then she made a speech, then she told us what books to get, but we are not to buy them till Monday. We have 3 intervals, one long and 2 short. The long one is for games, the short ones to go out. I usen’t to go out at the elementary school and now I don’t need to. Mother always says that it’s only a bad habit. Most of the girls went out, and even asked to leave the room during lesson time. To-day we hadn’t any proper lessons. They are to begin to-morrow, but we don’t know what. Then we came home.
September 23rd. To-day we had the mistress who teaches geography and history, she has no degree. Inspee says that she had her last year, but she could not stand her, she’s so ugly. Father was angry and said to Inspee: You silly goose, don’t fill her head with such stuff. Show what you are worth as elder sister. One can learn something from every mistress and every master if one likes. But I can’t say, we’re really fond of Fraulein Vischer and I don’t much care for geography and history. Besides I’m not learning for her but for myself. Frau Dr. Mallburg is awfully nice and pretty. We shall always write Frau Dr. M. for short. When she laughs she has two dimples and a gold stopping. She is new at the school. I don’t know if we are to have singing too. In French we have Madame Arnau, she is beautifully dressed, black lace. Hella has a lovely pen and pencil case; it’s quite soft, we must have it soft so that it shan’t make a row when it falls down during lesson time. I think it cost 7 crowns or 1.70 crowns, I don’t know exactly. To-day lessons went on until 12, first German, then arithmetic, then religion for Catholics, and then we came away. Hella waited for me, for the Herr Pastor did not come.
September 24th. We thought the book shops would be open to-day but we were wrong. Hella’s mother said, that’s what happens when the chicks think themselves wiser than the hens. In the afternoon Hella came to our house and Inspee had been invited by the Fs. I don’t go there, for it’s so dull, they play the piano all day. I have enough piano at my lessons. My music lessons will begin when the school time-table has been fixed up. Perhaps on October 1st, then I must write to Frau B., she told me to write myself. She tells all her pupils to do that. I would rather have had Hella’s music mistress. But she has no time to spare and I think she charges more. At least she wouldn’t always be holding me up “Fraulein Dora” as a model. We are not all so musical as Fraulein Dora. In the evening Inspee was reading a great fat book until 10 or 12 o clock and she simply howled over it. She said she had not, but I heard her and she could hardly speak. She says she had a cold, liar.
September 25th. To-day they gave us the professors’ time-table, but it won’t work until the professors from the Gymnasium know exactly when they can come. Our Frau Doktor might be teaching in a Gymnasium, but since there is only one here she teaches in our school. To-morrow we are going to have a viva voce composition: Our Holidays. We may write 8 or 10 sentences at home before we come, but we must not look at what we have written in class. I’ve written mine already. But I’ve not said anything about Robert. He’s not worth thinking about anyhow. I did not even tell Hella everything.
September 25th. We had the viva voce composition and Frau Doktor said, very good, what is your name? Grete Lainer I said and she said: And is that your chum next you? Now she must tell us how she spent her holidays. Hella did hers very well too and Frau Doktor said again, very good. Then the bell rang. In the long interval Frau Doktor played dodge with us. It was great fun. I was it six times. In the little intervals we were quite alone for the staff has such a lot to do drawing up the time-table. A pupil-teacher from the F. high school is in our class. She sits on the last bench for she is very tall. As tall as Frau Doktor.
September 26th. To-day we had Professor Riegel for the first time in natural history. He wears eye-glasses and never looks any of us in the face. And in French Madame A. said that my accent was the best. We’ve got an awful lot on and I don’t know whether I shall be able to write every day. The younger girls say Professor Igel instead of Riegel and the Weinmann girl said Nikel.
September 30th. I’ve had simply no time to write. Hella hasn’t written anything since the 24th. But I must write to-day for I met Robert in Schottengasse. Good morning, Miss, you needn’t be so stuck up, he said as he went by. And when I turned round he had already passed, or I would have given him a piece of my mind. I must go to supper.
October 1st. I can’t write, Oswald has come from S., he has sprained his ankle, but I’m not so sure because he can get about. He is awfully pale and doesn’t say a word about the pain.
October 4th. To-day is a holiday, the emperor’s birthday. Yesterday Resi told me something horrid. Oswald can’t go back to S. He has been up to something, I wish I knew what, perhaps something in the closet. He always stays there such a long time, I noticed that when I was in the country. Or perhaps it may have been something in his society. Inspee pretends she knows what it is but of course it isn’t true, for she doesn’t know any more than I do. Father is furious and Mother’s eyes are all red with crying. At dinner nobody says a word. If I could only find out what he’s done. Father was shouting at him yesterday and both Dora and I heard what he said: You young scamp (then there was something we couldn’t understand) and then he said, you attend to your school books and leave the girls and the married women alone you pitiful scoundrel. And Dora said. Ah, now I understand and I said: Please tell me, he is my brother as well as yours. But she said: “You wouldn’t understand. It’s not suitable for such young ears.” Fancy that, it’s suitable for her ears, but not mine though she’s not quite three years older than I am, but because she no longer wears a short skirt she gives herself the airs of a grown-up lady. Such airs, and then she sneaks a great spoonful of jam so that her mouth is stuffed with it and she can’t speak. Whenever I see her do this, I make a point of speaking to her so that she has to answer. She does get in such a wax.
October 9th. I know all about it now. . . That’s how babies come. And that is what Robert really meant. Not for me, thank you, I simply won’t marry. For if one marries one has to do it; it hurts frightfully and yet one has to. What a good thing that I know it in time. But I wish I knew exactly how, Hella says she doesn’t know exactly herself. But perhaps her cousin who knows everything about it will tell her. It lasts nine months till the baby comes and then a lot of women die. It’s horrible. Hella has known it for a long time but she didn’t like to tell me. A girl told her last summer in the country. She wanted to talk about it to Lizzi her sister, really she only wanted to ask if it was all true and Lizzi ran off to her mother to tell her what Hella had said And her mother said; “These children are awful, a corrupt generation, don’t you dare to repeat it to any other girl, to Grete Lainer, for instance,” and she gave her a box on the ear. As if she could help it! That is why she didn’t write to me for such a long time. Poor thing, poor thing, but now she can tell me all about it and we won’t betray one another. And that deceitful cat Inspee has known all about it for ages and has never told me. But I don’t understand why that time at the swing Robert said: You little fool, you wont get a baby simply from that. Perhaps Hella knows. When I go to the gymnastic lesson to-morrow I shall talk to her first and ask her about it. My goodness how curious I am to know.
October 10th. I’m in a great funk, I missed my gymnastic lesson yesterday. I was upstairs at Hella’s and without meaning it I was so late I did not dare to go. And Hella said I had better stay with her that we would say that our sum was so difficult that we had not got it finished in time. Luckily we really had a sum to do. But I said nothing about it at home, for to-morrow Oswald is going to G. to Herr S’s. I thought that I knew all about it but only now has Hella really told me everything. It’s a horrible business this . . . I really can’t write it. She says that of course Inspee has it already, had it when I wrote that Inspee wouldn’t bathe, did not want to bathe; really she had it. Whatever happens one must always be anxious about it. Streams of blood says Hella. But then everything gets all bl . . . That’s why in the country Inspee always switched off the light before she was quite undressed, so that I couldn’t see. Ugh! Catch me looking! It begins at 14 and goes on for 20 years or more. Hella says that Berta Franke in our class knows all about it. In the arithmetic lesson she wrote a note: Do you know what being un . . . is? Hella wrote back, of course I’ve known it for a long time. Berta waited for her after class when the Catholics were having their religion lesson and they went home together. I remember quite well that I was very angry, for they’re not chums. On Tuesday Berta came with us, for Hella had sent her a note in class saying that I knew everything and she needn’t bother about me. Inspee suspects something, she’s always spying about and sneering, perhaps she thinks that she’s the only person who ought to know anything.
October 16th. To-morrow is Father’s and Dora’s birthday. Every year it annoys me that Dora should have her birthday on the same day as Father; What annoys me most of all is that she is so cocky about it, for, as Father always says, it’s a mere chance. Besides, I don’t think he really likes it. Everyone wants to have their own birthday on their own day, not to share it with someone else. And it’s always nasty to be stuck up about a thing like that. Besides, it’s not going to be a real birthday because of the row about Oswald. Father is still furious and had to stay away from the office for 2 days because he had to go to G. to see about Oswald going there.
October 17th. It was much jollier to-day than I had expected. All the Bruckners came, so of course there was not much said about Oswald only that he has sprained his ankle, (I know quite well now that that’s not true) and that he is probably going to G. Colonel B. said: The best thing for a boy is to send him to a military academy, that keeps him in order. In the evening Oswald said: That was awful rot what Hella’s father said, for you can be expelled from a military academy just as easily as from the Gymnasium. That’s what happened to Edgar Groller. Oswald gave himself away and Dora promptly said: Ah, so you have been expelled, and we believed you had sprained your ankle. Then he got in an awful wax and said: O you wretched flappers, I’ve gone and blabbed it all now, and he went away slamming the door, for Mother wasn’t there.
October 19th. If we could only find out what Oswald really did. It must have been something with a girl. But we can’t think what Father meant about a married woman. Perhaps a married woman complained of him to the head master or to the school committee and that’s how it all came out. I feel awfully sorry for him, for I think how I should have felt myself if everything had come out about Robert and me. Of course I don’t care now. But in the summer it would have been awful. Oswald hardly says a word, except that he has talks with Mother sometimes. He always pretends that he wants to read, but it’s absurd, for with such a love trouble one can’t really read. I have not told Berta Franke all about it, but only that my brother has had an unhappy love affair and that is why he is back in Vienna. Then she told us that this summer a cousin of hers shot himself because of her. They said in the newspapers that it was because of an actress, but really it was because of her. She is 14 already.
October 20th. We spend most of our time now with Berta Franke. She says she has had a tremendous lot of experience, but she can’t tell us yet because we are not intimate enough. By and by she says. Perhaps she is afraid we shall give her away. She wants to marry when she is 16 at latest. That’s in 2 years. Of course she won’t have finished school by then, but she will have left the third class. She has three admirers, but she has not yet made up her mind which to choose. Hella says I mustn’t believe all this, that the story about the three admirers at once is certainly a cram.
October 21st. Berta Franke says that when one is dark under the eyes one has it and that when one gets a baby then one doesn’t have it any more until one gets another. She told us too how one gets it, but I didn’t really believe what she said, for I thought she did not know herself exactly. Then she got very cross and said: “All right, I won’t tell you any more. If I don’t know myself.” But I can’t believe what she said about husband and wife. She said it must happen every night, for if not they don’t have a baby; if they miss a single night they don’t have a baby. That’s why they have their beds so close together. People call them marriage beds!!! And it hurts so frightfully that one can hardly bear it. But one has to for a husband can make his wife do it. I should like to know how he can make her. But I didn’t dare to ask for I was afraid she would think I was making fun of her. Men have it too, but very seldom. We see a lot of Berta Franke now, she is an awfully nice girl, perhaps Mother will let me invite her here next Sunday.
October 23rd. Father took Oswald away to-day. Mother cried such a lot. When Oswald was leaving I whispered to him: I know what’s the matter with you. But he did not understand me for he said: Silly duffer. Perhaps he only said that because of Father who was looking on with a fearful scowl.
October 27th. Everything seems to have gone wrong. Yesterday I got unsatisfactory in history, and in arithmetic to-day I couldn’t get a single sum right. I’m frightfully worried about missing that gymnastic lesson. It will be all right if Mother gives me the money to-morrow, for if she goes herself she will certainly find out about it.
October 28th. To-day the head mistress was present at our French lesson and said awfully nice things about me. She said I was good enough in French to be in the Third and then she asked me whether I was as good in the other subjects. I didn’t want to say either Yes or No, and all the other girls said Yes, she’s good at everything. The head patted me on the shoulder and said: I’m glad to hear that. When she had gone I cried like anything and Madame Arnau asked: Why, what’s the matter? and the other girls said: In arithmetic she had Unsatisfactory but she can really do her sums awfully well. Then Madame said: “You’ll soon wipe off that Unsatisfactory.”
October 30th. To-day I had a frightful bother with Fraulein Vischer in the history lesson. Yesterday when I got into the tram with Mother there was Fraulein V. I looked the other way so that Mother shouldn’t see her and so that she should not tell Mother about me. When she came in to-day she said: Lainer, do you know the rules? I knew directly what she meant and said “I did bow to you in the tram but you didn’t see me.” “That’s a fine thing to do, first you do wrong and then try to excuse yourself by telling a lie. Sit down!” I felt awful for all the girls looked at me. In the 11 interval Berta Franke said to me: Don’t worry, she’s got her knife into you and will always find something to complain of. She must have spoken to Frau Doktor M., for in the German lesson the subject for viva voce composition was Good Manners. And all the girls looked at me again. She didn’t say anything more. She’s a perfect angel, my darling E. M., her name is Elisabeth; but she does not keep her name-day because she’s a Protestant; that’s an awful shame because November 19th is coming soon.
October 31st. I’ve been so lucky. Nothing’s come out about the gymnastic lesson though Mother was there herself. And in mental arithmetic to-day I got a One. Fraulein Steiner is awfully nice too and she said: Why, L. what was the matter with you in your sums the other day, for you’re so good at arithmetic? I didn’t know what to do so I said: Oh I had such a headache the other day. Then Berta Franke nearly burst out laughing, it was horrid of her; I don’t think she’s quite to be trusted; I think she’s rather a sneak. When the lesson was over she said she had laughed because “headache” means something quite different.
November 1st. To-day we began to work at the tablecloth for Father’s Christmas present. Of course Inspee bagged the right side because that’s easier to work at and I had to take the left side and then one has the whole caboodle on one’s hand. For Mother I’m making an embroidered leather book cover, embroidered with silk and with a painted design; I can do the painting part at school in Fraulein H.‘s lesson, she’s awfully nice too. But I like Frau Doktor M. best of all. I’m not going to invite Berta Franke because of the way she laughed yesterday, and besides Mother doesn’t like having strange girls to the house. November 2nd. I don’t know all about things yet. Hella knows a lot more. We said we were going to go over our natural history lesson together and we went in to the drawing-room, and there she told me a lot more. Then Mali, our new servant, came in, and she told us something horrid. Resi is in a hospital because she’s ill. Mali told us that all the Jews when they are quite little have to go through a very dangerous operation; it hurts frightfully and that’s why they are so cruel. It’s done so that they can have more children; but only little boys, not little girls. It’s horrid, and I should not like to marry a Jew. Then we asked Mali whether it is true that it hurts so frightfully and she laughed and said: It can’t be so bad as all that, for if it were you wouldn’t find everyone doing it. Then Hella asked her: But have you done it already, you haven’t got a husband? She said: Go on, Miss! One mustn’t ask such questions it’s not ladylike. We were in an awful funk, and begged her not to tell Mother. She promised not to.