“Dear God, where am I?” he said and felt dizzy at the thought.
“We’re going to drink claret! Mead and German beer!” yelled one of the men, “and you’ll drink with us!”
Two maids came in. One had two colors in her cap,10 and they poured and curtsied. The judge felt a shiver go down his spine.
“What is this? What is happening?!” he said, but he had to drink with them. They set to work on the poor man, and he was quite disconsolate. When one of them said that he was drunk, he didn’t doubt the man at all. He just asked them to call him a cab, a
He had never been in such raw and simple company. You would think the country had fallen back into paganism. “This is the worst moment in my life!” he thought, but at the same time he got the idea that he could slip down under the table, crawl over to the door, and slip out. But when he reached the entrance, the others noticed what he was doing and grabbed him by the legs. Then, luckily for him, the galoshes slipped off, and with them, all the magic.
The councilman saw quite distinctly a clear light burning in front of him, and behind it was a large property. He recognized it and the property next to it. They were on East Street, such as we all know it. He headed for a gate, and next to it the watchman sat sleeping.
“Good God! Have I been lying here on the street dreaming?” he asked. “Of course, this is East Street, with its blessed light and color. It’s simply dreadful how that glass of punch affected me!”
Two minutes later he was sitting in a cab on his way to Christian’s Harbor. He thought about the fear and distress he had overcome and praised with all his heart the reality of our own time with all its defects, still so much better than where he had just been. And that was sensible of the councilman, of course.
3. THE WATCHMAN’S ADVENTURE
“Hm, there’s actually a pair of galoshes lying there!” said the watchman. “They must belong to the lieutenant who lives up above there. They’re lying right by the gate.”
The honest fellow would have rung the bell right away and delivered them since the lights were still on, but since he didn’t want to waken the others in the house he didn’t do it.
“It must be pretty comfortable to walk around with those things on,” he thought. “They are such soft leather.” They fit beautifully. “How strange the world is! The lieutenant could go to his warm bed, but he doesn’t do that; he’s pacing about. He’s a happy fellow, has neither a wife nor children, and goes to parties every night. I wish I were him, I’d be a happy man then!”
As he said that, the galoshes worked their magic. The watchman passed into the lieutenant’s person and thoughts. There he stood, up in the lieutenant’s room, holding between his fingers a little pink piece of paper with a poem on it, written by the lieutenant himself, for who has not at one time or another been inspired to write poetry? And if you write down the thoughts, then the poem is there. On the paper was written:
Yes, you write these kinds of lines when you’re in love, but a sensible man wouldn’t have them printed. A lieutenant, love and poverty: that’s a triangle, or just as good, you can say it’s the broken half of the square of happiness. The lieutenant felt that way, and that’s why he leaned his head against the windowsill and sighed deeply:
“That poor watchman out on the street is far happier than I am! He doesn’t want for anything. He has a home, a wife, and children, who cry with him in sorrow and are happy with his joys. If I were more fortunate than I am, I could trade places with him, because he is happier than I am.”
At that moment the watchman became the watchman again since it was through the magic galoshes that he had become the lieutenant. As we have seen, he felt much less satisfied, and wanted to be what he really was. So the watchman was the watchman again.
“That was a bad dream,” he said, “but diverting too. I thought I was the lieutenant up there, and it wasn’t fun at all. I missed my wife and the kids, who are always ready to smother me with kisses.”
He sat down again and nodded off. The dream wasn’t completely out of his mind. He was still wearing the galoshes. A falling star flew across the sky.
“There one fell!” he said, “but there are enough of them anyway. I would like to see those things closer up, especially the moon because then it wouldn’t disappear between two hands. The student that my wife washes for says that when we die, we fly from star to star. That’s a lie, but it would be rather fun anyway. I wish I could just make a little jump up there, and my body could just stay here on the steps.”
