“No. She is my stenographer.”
“So much the better. And now will you please get out, or let us carry you out, as the car is to be destroyed.”
“I prefer to be destroyed with it.”
“As you wish. But allow me to ask you one more question. You are a public prosecutor. I never could understand how a man could be a public prosecutor. You make your living by bringing other men, poor devils mostly, to trial and passing sentence on them. Isn’t that so?”
“It is. I do my duty. It was my office. Exactly as it is the office of the hangman to hang those whom I condemn to death. You too have assumed a like office. You kill people also.”
“Quite true. Only we do not kill from duty, but pleasure, or much more, rather, from displeasure and despair of the world. For this reason we find a certain amusement in killing people. Has it never amused you?”
“You bore me. Be so kind as to do your work. Since the conception of duty is unknown to you—”
He was silent and made a movement of his lips as though to spit. Only a little blood came, however, and clung to his chin.
“One moment!” said Gustav politely. “The conception of duty is certainly unknown to me—now. Formerly I had a great deal of official concern with it. I was a professor of theology. Besides that, I was a soldier and went through the war. What seemed to me to be duty and what the authorities and my superior officers from time to time enjoined upon me was not by any means good. I would rather have done the opposite. But granting that the conception of duty is no longer known to me, I still know the conception of guilt—perhaps they are the same thing. In so far as a mother bore me, I am guilty. I am condemned to live. I am obliged to belong to a State, to serve as a soldier, to kill and to pay taxes for armaments. And now at this moment the guilt of life has brought me once more to the necessity of killing people as it did in the war. And this time I have no repugnance. I am resigned to the guilt. I have no objection to this stupid congested world going to bits. I am glad to help and glad to perish with it.”
The public prosecutor made an effort to smile a little with his lips on which the blood had coagulated. He did not succeed very well, though the good intention was manifest.
“Good,” said he. “So we are colleagues. Well, as such, please do your duty.”
The pretty girl had meanwhile sat down by the side of the road and fainted.
At this moment there was again the tooting of a car coming down the road at full speed. We drew the girl a little to one side and, standing close against the cliff, let the approaching car run into the ruins of the other. The brakes were applied violently and the car reared up in the air. It came to a standstill undamaged. We seized our rifles and quickly had the newcomers covered.
“Get out!” commanded Gustav. “Hands up!”
Three men got out of the car and obediently held up their hands.
“Is any one of you a doctor?” Gustav asked.
They shook their heads.
“Then be so good as to remove this gentleman. He is seriously hurt. Take him in your car to the nearest town. Forward, and get on with it.”
The old gentleman was soon lying in the other car. Gustav gave the word and off they went.
The stenographer meanwhile had come to herself and had been watching these proceedings. I was glad we had made so fair a prize.
“Madam,” said Gustav, “you have lost your employer. I hope you were not bound to the old gentleman by other ties. You are now in my service. So be our good comrade. So much for that; and now time presses. It will be uncomfortable here before long. Can you climb, Madam? Yes? Then go ahead and we’ll help you up between us.”
We all climbed up to our hut in the tree as fast as we could. The lady did not feel very well up there, but we gave her some brandy, and she was soon so much recovered that she was able to admire the wonderful view over lake and mountains and to tell us also that her name was Dora.
Immediately after this, there was another car below us. It steered carefully past the overturned one without stopping and then gathered speed.
“Poltroon!” laughed Gustav and shot the driver. The car zigzagged and dashing into the wall stove it in and hung suspended over the abyss.
“Dora,” I said, “can you use firearms?”
She could not, but we taught her how to load. She was clumsy at first and hurt her finger and cried and wanted court-plaster. But Gustav told her it was war and that she must show her courage. Then it went better.
“But what’s going to become of us?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” said Gustav. “My friend Harry is fond of pretty girls. He’ll look after you.”
“But the police and the soldiers will come and kill us.”
“There aren’t any police and suchlike any more. We can choose, Dora. Either we stay quietly up here and shoot down every car that tries to pass, or else we can take a car and drive off in it and let others shoot at us. It’s all the same which side we take. I’m for staying here.”
And now there was the loud tooting of another car beneath us. It was soon accounted for and lay there wheels uppermost.
Gustav smiled. “Yes, there are indeed too many men in the world. In earlier days it wasn’t so noticeable. But now that everyone wants air to breathe, and a car to drive as well, one does notice it. Of course, what we are doing isn’t rational. It’s childishness, just as war is
