Bahnwrter Thiel: Chapter 3

Although Thiel made his way back to his forest solitude with the greatest possible haste,
he arrived fifteen minutes later than his official time of duty.
His colleague, with whom he shared the job, a man who had tuberculosis as a result of
the quick, unavoidable temperature changes in this region, was already prepared to go,
standing on the small, sandy platform of the little hut whose big number, black on white,
shone for a long way through the trees.
The two men shook hands, exchanged a few, short pieces of information and parted. One
of them disappeared into the hut, the other went across the track, taking the path, which
Thiel had used. One could hear his convulsive cough, first nearby, then further away
through the trees, and with his colleagues departure, the only human noise in this
solitude went silent. Thiel began the day, as always, arranging things for the night in the
narrow, square stone cage of the signalman's hut. He did this mechanically, while his
mind was pre-occupied with the impression of the last few hours. He placed his supper on
the narrow, brown painted table by one of the two slit-like side-windows, from which one
could comfortably see across the track. Then he lit a fire in the small, rusty stove and
placed a pot of cold water on it. Finally, after he put the tools in order: shovel, spade,
vice, etc., he began with the cleaning of his lantern, which he filled immediately
afterwards with fresh paraffin.
This done, the bell announced with three sharp strikes that a train from the direction of
Breslau had left the next station. Without showing the smallest sign of haste, Thiel
lingered inside the hut. He eventually made his way, flag and ammunition pouch in his
hand, slowly into the open air and moved in a shuffling and sluggish manner over the
narrow sandy path to the rail-crossing about twenty paces away. Thiel closed and opened
the barriers before and after each train, conscientiously, although the path was only rarely
used by a passing pedestrian.
He finished his work and now leaned, waiting, against the black and white barrier-post.
The track cut right and left in a straight line into the boundless, green forest, and to both
sides, the mass of needles held back, as it were, leaving a lane free between them, which
the reddish-brown, gravel-strewn railway embankment filled out. The black, parallelrunning lines glistened in their entirety like a monstrous, iron mesh of a net whose narrow
strands came together at a point on the horizon.
The wind picked up and blew soft waves down along the edge of the forest and into the
distance. From the telegraph poles which ran alongside the track, a buzzing harmony
sounded. On the wires, which entwined themselves like the web of a giant spider from
pole to pole, flocks of twittering birds huddled together in close rows. A woodpecker,
laughing, flew away over Thiel's head. He did not even deign to glance at the bird.

11

The sun, which hung just under the edges of the mighty clouds before sinking into the
black-green sea of tree-tops, poured streams of crimson over the forest. The pillared
arcade of the trunks of the pine trees on the side of the embankment lit up, as it were,
from the inside, and glowed like hot iron.
And the rail lines began to glow, like fiery snakes and then went out. And now the glow
climbed slowly from the ground into the sky, leaving behind in the cold fading light, the
trunks of the pine trees, then the largest part of their crowns, and finally, only touching
the extreme edge of the tree-tops with a red shimmer. Silently and solemnly, the scene
was carried out like an exalted play. The signalman still stood motionless at the barrier.
Finally he took a step forward. A dark point on the horizon, there where the lines met
each other, grew bigger. Growing from second to second, it seemed as if it stood in one
place. Suddenly, it had movement and got nearer. Through the lines came a vibration and
a buzzing, a rhythmical clicking, a muffled noise, which becoming louder and louder, and
was not unlike the hoof-beats of a roaring, approaching squadron of cavalry.
A panting and roaring filled the air in fits and starts from the distance. Then, suddenly, the
silence was ripped apart. A racing thundering and raging filled the air, the lines bent, the
earth shook - a strong gust of air - a cloud of dust, steam and smoke, and the black,
snorting monster went by. And as it had grown, so the noise died away, little by little. The
dust went away. Shrunken to a point, the train disappeared in the distance and the old,
divine silence came over his corner of the forest.
'Minna,' whispered the signalman, as if he woke from a dream, and he went back to his
hut. After he had brewed himself a weak cup of coffee, he sat down and stared at a dirty
piece of newspaper he picked up from somewhere on the track, taking a sip from time to
time.
Little by little, a strange uneasiness came over him. He pushed the piece of newspaper
into the stove's glowing embers, whose light filled the room. He ripped off his jacket and
waistcoat in order to lighten himself. Since that did not help, he got up, took a spade out
of the corner and went off to the field which the inspector gave him.
It was a narrow sandy strip densely overgrown with weeds. Like snow-white foam, the
young blossoms lay on the branches of the two dwarf fruit-trees.
Thiel became calm, and a quiet pleasure came over him.
Now, to work.
The spade cut into the ground, grinding. The wet clods of earth fell back with a thud, and
broke apart.
For a time he dug without interruption. Then he paused suddenly and said loudly and
audibly to himself, while he shook his head back and forth anxiously, No, no, that really
cannot be, and again, No, no, that really cannot be.

12

It suddenly occurred to him, that now Lene would indeed have to come out here often in
order to tend the field, putting his mystical existence on the railway in serious jeopardy.
And suddenly, his joy of having the field turned into revulsion. Hastily, as if he had it in
mind to do something terrible, he tore the spade out of the ground and carried it back to
the hut. Here, once again, he sunk into deep thought. He didnt know why, but the
prospect of having Lene with him on duty for long days on end was intolerable. It seemed
to him, as if he had something of value to defend, as if someone were trying to encroach
upon that which was most sacred to him. His muscles tensed involuntarily in a light
cramp, while a short, forced laugh came from his lips. He was shocked by the echo of this
laugh. He looked up and lost the thread of his thoughts. When he found it again, he
burrowed back into his thoughts, into his old condition.
And suddenly, it was as if a thick, black curtain tore into two pieces, and his fogged-over
eyes gained a clear view. He felt for the first time like he had awoken from a two-yearlong death-like sleep, and he now looked at all the recent hair-raising experiences with an
disbelieving shake of the head. The sad story of his eldest son, which was forever sealed
in his memory due to the events of the last few hours, burrowed into his soul.
Compassion and remorse seized him like a deep shame. He realized he had known of
Tobiass humiliation the whole time, never before finding the strength to admit to himself
how Tobias suffered.
Through all of his self-tormenting ideas, of all of his sinful recognition, a heavy tiredness
came over him, and so he fell asleep with his back bowed, his forehead on his hand
which lay on the table.
For a time, he lay like this when, in a muffled voice, he called the name of Minna several
times.
A roaring and thundering filled his ears, like an immense troubling mass of water inside
his head; it became dark around him, he opened his eyes and awoke. His limbs shook, a
cold fearful sweat tore through all his pores, his pulse was irregular, his face was wet
from tears.
It was pitch-dark. He wanted to look over to the door, but he did not know which way to
turn. Staggering, he got up, his great anxiety persisted. The forest outside was roaring like
a surging sea, the wind threw hail against the windows of the hut. Thiel aimlessly felt
about with his hands. For a moment, he felt as if he were a drowning man. Then
suddenly, a blue, dazzling light shone like drops of unearthly light fading away into the
dark atmosphere to become instantly smothered.
This moment was enough for the signalman to pull himself together. He reached for his
lantern which, fortunately, he caught hold of. At this moment it began to thunder on the
furthest edge of the Brandenburg night-sky. At first, muffled and rolling with restraint, it
rolled nearer in short, surging waves until the monstrous force of the storm broke,
flooding over the atmosphere, threatening, shaking and roaring.

13

The panes rattled, the earth quaked.

Thiel turned light on. The first place he looked, after he regained his composure, was his
watch. There were hardly five minutes before the arrival of the express-train. Since he
thought that he had not heard the signal-bell, he went to the barrier as quickly as the
storm and the darkness would allow. While he busied himself closing the barrier, the
signal-bell rang. The wind dispersed its sound and threw it in all directions. The pinetrees bent and their branches rubbed against each other, eerily creaking and squeaking.
For a moment the moon became visible; it lay just like a pale-yellow shawl between the
clouds. In its light, one saw the wind burrowing into the black crowns of the pine-trees.
The hanging leaves of the birch-trees on the railway embankment blew and flapped like
ghostly horses' tails. Down below lay the lines of the track which, glistening from the
wet, absorbed the pale moonlight.
Thiel tore his cap from his head. The rain made him feel comfortable as it ran, mixing
with his tears, over his face. His thoughts were churning; unclear memories of that which
he had seen in the dream seemed to cancel each other out. One thought stood out Tobias
was being abused and indeed in such a horrific manner that Thiels heart stood still at the
thought. Another thought then took over he had seen his dead wife. She had come from
somewhere out of the distance on one of the railway-lines. She looked very ill, and
instead of clothes, she wore rags. She had gone past Thiel's hut without looking at it and
finally - here his recollection became unclear - she had for some reason or other moved
forward with great difficulty, even collapsing several times.
Thiel considered his hallucination further, and now he knew she was in flight. He now
had no doubt that her face was filled with anxiety and despite her anxious demeanor, she
dragged herself further onward, feet failing her. Oh those terrible glances!
But there was something that she was carrying with her, wrapped in cloth, something
limp, bloody, pale, and the way in which she looked down at it, reminded him of earlier
events.
He thought about his dying wife, who had just given birth to their child, whom she had to
leave behind, looking steadily with an expression which Thiel could no more forget than
he could forget that he had a mother and a father.
Where had she come from tonight? He did not know. But now it was clear in his soul: she
had rejected him in not looking at him; she had dragged herself further and further away
through the stormy, dark night. He had shouted to her, 'Minna, Minna!' and he was
awoken by this.
Just then, two red, round lights penetrated the darkness like the goggle-eyes of a huge
monster. A blood-colored glow preceded those eyes which turned the raindrops before it
into drops of blood blood that appeared to be raining down from heaven.

14

Thiel felt a horror, and as the train came ever nearer; dream and reality for him melted
into one. Again, he saw the wandering woman on the rails, and his hand felt for his
pouch, as if he had the intention of bringing the speeding train to a halt. Fortunately, it
was too late, for the lights already shimmered before Thiel's eyes, and the train roared by.
For the remainder of the night, Thiel found little peace. He felt an urge to be at home. He
longed to see little Tobias again. He felt as if he had been separated from him for years.
Out of worry for the boy, he tried to make himself leave his duty station, but he could not.
In order to pass the time, Thiel decided, as soon as it became light, to inspect his stretch
of track. In his left hand a stick, in his right hand a long, iron spanner, he went out into
the dark-grey dawn-light on to work on the rails.
Now and again he tightened a bolt with the spanner or hit one of the round iron bars,
which bound the lines together.
The rain and wind had gone and between the tattered strips of cloud, a few pieces of pale
blue sky could be seen.
The monotonous knocking of his soles on the hard metal, together with the sleepy noise
of the dripping trees calmed Thiel bit by bit.
At six o'clock in the morning, he was relieved and started on the path for home without
delay.
It was a lovely Sunday morning.
The clouds had parted and sunk half way below the horizon. The sun poured through in
its ascent, sparkling like a huge, blood-red jewel, a pure sheet of light over the forest.
In sharp lines, the bundles of rays shot through the maze of the trunks, here an island of
soft bracken whose frond of finely worked lace glistened and glowed, there the silvergrey lichen of the forest-floor turning into a red coral.
Fiery dew glowed on the grass. A deluge of light appeared to pour over of the earth.
There was a freshness in the air that did the heart good, and in Thiel's head, the images of
the previous night gradually faded, and by the time he came in the small room and saw
little Tobias more red-cheeked than ever lying in the sun-lit bed, the images had totally
disappeared.
There was no doubt that the images were gone! During the course of the day, Lene
thought several times that she noticed something strange in him; like in the church-pew,
when, instead of looking into the good book, he looked at her from the side. And then
also at lunch-time when without saying a word, he took the baby, which Tobias usually
had to mind and placed it in her lap. Apart from these things, however, there was nothing
the least strange about him.

15

Thiel, who had not napped during the day, crept to bed toward nine o'clock since he had
day-duty the following week. Just as he was at the point of falling asleep, his wife
announced to him that she would go with him the following morning into the forest in
order to work the land and plant potatoes.
Thiel winced; he was completely awake now. His eyes, however, stayed firmly shut.
Lene said that it was high time she did something with the potatoes, and she added that
she had to bring the children with her, since it would presumably take the whole day. The
signalman muttered a few incomprehensible words, to which Lene did not pay any
attention. She had turned her back to him and busied herself in the light of a tallow candle
undoing her bodice and letting down her skirt.
Suddenly she turned around, without knowing why and looked into the earth toned face
of her husband which was distorted with passion. He stared at her with burning eyes, half
sat up, his hands on his bed clothes.
'Thiel!' his wife shouted, half angry, half shocked. Like a sleep-walker, he awoke from
his stupor; he muttered a few confused words, threw himself back on to the pillow, and
pulled the bed cover over his ears.
Lene was the first who got up the following morning. Without making any noise, she
prepared everything necessary for the outing. She laid her smallest child in the stroller,
then she woke and dressed Tobias. When Tobias learned where he was going, he had to
smile. After everything was prepared and the coffee was standing ready on the table,
Thiel awoke. Displeasure was the first feeling he experienced at the sight of all the things
prepared. He probably would have liked to have said something against it, but he did not
know where to begin. And anyway, how could he convince Lene not to go?
Gradually, Tobaiss small, increasingly beaming face began to influence Thiel. Finally,
because of the joy the idea of the outing brought Tobias, Thiel was incapable of
objecting. Nevertheless, he could not escape his feeling of unease during the walk
through the forest. He pushed the small stroller arduously through the deep sand and
decorated it with all kinds of flowers that Tobias had collected.
The boy was exceptionally cheerful. He hopped around in his little brown velvet-cap
between the ferns and sought in a loose and somewhat clumsy manner to catch the clearwinged dragonflies, which flickered around overhead. As soon as they arrived, Lene went
to inspect the field. She threw the small sack with the pieces of potato which she had
brought for seed onto the edge of the woods. She knelt down and ran the dark colored
sand through her hard fingers.
Thiel observed her eagerly: 'How is it?'

16

'Just as good as the Spree-Ecke!' The signalman felt a burden lifted from his soul. He
feared that she would not have approved. He scratched the stubble of his beard
thoughtfully.
After the woman had hastily consumed a thick crust of bread, she threw off her shawl and
jacket and began to dig, with the speed and stamina of a machine.
At particular intervals, she straightened herself up and took in deep breaths of air, but it
was only for a moment each-time. If the small baby had to be breast-fed, she did it
hastily with a panting breast, dripping with sweat.
'I have to go to walk the track, I will take Tobias with me!' shouted the signalman from
the platform in front of the hut.
What! Nonsense! she shouted back. Who will stay with the baby? Come over here!
she shouted back louder, while the signalman, as if could not hear her, went off with little
Tobias.
At first, she wondered whether she ought to run after them. Only the loss of time
prevented her from leaving her work. Thiel went along the track with Tobias. The small
boy was very excited; everything was new and strange to him. He did not understand
what the thin, black lines, warmed by the sun-light meant. Incessantly, he asked all kinds
of peculiar questions. Of all the things, the ringing inside the telegraph-poles was the
most strange to him. Thiel knew the sound of each single one in his area so well that he
could tell which part of the line he was on with his eyes closed.
Often he stopped, holding Tobias by the hand, so that they could listen to the wonderful
sounds, which streamed from the wood like the sonorous chanting from the inside of a
church. The poles towards the south of his area had an especially full and beautiful chord.
There was a throng of sounds from the insides which rang forth, uninterrupted, in one
long breath. Tobias ran around the weather-beaten wood trying to discover through an
opening in one of the poles the maker of the lovely sound. The signalman became solemn
like in church. With time he thought he could make out a voice that reminded him of his
dead wife. He imagined this to be a choir of holy spirits led by her voice. This idea
awakened a yearning in him that moved him to tears.
Tobias asked for some flowers and Thiel, as usual, found some for him.
The dense patch of blue flowers made it appear as if pieces of blue sky had sunk to the
floor of the woods. Like little fluttering colored flags, butterflies flitted silently between
the shining white birch trunks and a gentle drizzle fell through their pale green leafy
crowns.
Tobias picked flowers and his father looked at him thoughtfully. Occasionally Thiel
raised his head and looked through the gaps in the clouds in the sky which absorbed the
golden light of the sun like an enormous, perfectly blue crystal bowl.

17

'Father, is that the Dear Lord?' the small boy asked suddenly, on seeing a small brown
squirrel darteding over to a pine-tree, standing alone and scraping the trunk.
'Silly boy,' was all that Thiel could reply, while torn-away pieces of bark fell from the
trunk in front of his feet.
The mother was still digging, when Thiel and Tobias came back. Half of the field had
already been turned over.
The trains followed each-other in short intervals, and Tobias watched them roar past, each
time open-mouthed.
Even Lene took pleasure in his funny faces.
The lunch, consisting of potatoes and the remainder of a cold pork-roast, was consumed
in the hut. Lene had tidied up, and Thiel helped, appearing to want to make the best of the
situation. He talked with his wife during the meal about all kinds of work related things,
asking her whether she could imagine that in a single piece of rail there were forty-six
bolts, and in some even more.
In the morning Lene finished turning over the soil; in the afternoon the potatoes were to
be planted. She declared that Tobias would look after the baby, and she took him with her.
'Make sure...' shouted Thiel after her, seized by sudden anxiety, '...make sure that he does
not go too close to the rail lines!'
A shrug of the shoulders was Lene's answer.
The Silesian express-train was announced, and Thiel had to be at his post. He had barely
arrived at the barrier when he heard it roaring towards him.
The train became visible, - it came closer - in countless, quick bursts, the steam hissed
from the locomotive's black stack. There: one, two, three, milky-white streams of steam
welled upwards, straight as an arrow. The steam brought with it the whistle of the
locomotive - three times, in succession, short, piercing and frightening. Theyre
braking, thought Thiel, but why? And again, the piercing emergency whistle sounded in a
long, unbroken line, waking the echo.
Thiel moved forward so he could see down the line. Mechanically, he pulled the red flag
out of the case and held it out in front of him over the lines. - Jesus Christ! - Was he
blind? Jesus Christ! - Oh Jesus, Jesus Christ! What was that? There! - There, between the
lines... 'Stop!' shouted the signalman with all his might. It was too late. A dark mass had
been pulled under the train and was thrown around between the wheels, back and forth,
like a rubber-ball. A few moments later, and he heard the jarring and squealing of the
brakes. The train stopped.

18

Thiels isolated stretch of track came to life. Guards and ticket-inspectors ran to the end
of the train. Out of every window peered curious faces - the crowd came together and
moved to the front.
Thiel was panting; he had to hold on to himself, in order not to fall to the ground like a
dying bull. They waved to him, 'No!'
A shriek tore the air at the place of the accident, a howl followed, like it was coming from
an animal's throat. Who was that?! Lene?! It was not her voice, and yet...
A man came hurrying along the track.
'Signalman!'
'What has happened here?'
'An accident!' ...The messenger recoiled, for the signalman's eyes moved strangely. His
hat was crooked, his red hair seemed to be standing up.
'He is still alive, perhaps there is still a chance.'
A groan was the only answer.
'Come quickly! Quickly!'
Thiel suddenly pulled himself together with immense strain. His limp muscles tightened;
he stood erect, his face was vacant and dead.
He ran with the messenger, he did not see the deathly pale, shocked faces of the travelers
in the train windows. A young woman shouted out, there was a business traveler in a fez,
a young couple, apparently on their honeymoon. What did they matter to him? He did not
pay any attention the the contents of this rattling box, his ears were filled with Lene's
howling. Swimming around before his eyes, he saw innumerable yellow spots, like glowworms. He recoiled; he stood there. Out of the dance of the glow-worms emerged
something pale, limp and bleeding: a forehead beaten black and blue, blue lips, over
which black blood dripped. It was him.
Thiel did not speak. His face took on a ghastly expression. He smiled as if absent; finally
he bent down, and felt the limp, dead limbs heavy in his arms; he wrapped the red flag
around him.
He left.
To where?
'To the district doctor! To the district doctor!' everybody shouted.

19

'We will take him with us,' called the baggage-master, and made a stretcher out of workclothes and books in his wagon. 'Now then?'
Thiel made no sign of letting go of Tobias. They urged him. Useless. The baggage-master
passed the stretcher out of the luggage-wagon and ordered a man to assist the father.
Time is costly. The guard's whistle sounded. Coins rained out of the windows.
Lene behaved as if she were beside herself. 'The poor, poor woman,' she was called in the
compartment, 'The poor, poor mother!'
The guard whistled again - another whistle - the locomotive threw out white, hissing
steam from its cylinders and stretched its iron sinews; a few seconds later, and the
courier-train thundered at double-speed through the forest in a streaming cloud of smoke.
The signalman, having changed his mind, laid the half-dead boy on the stretcher. There
he lay, there in his broken figure. Now and again a long, rattling breath raised his chest,
which could be seen under his tattered shirt. His small arms and small legs, not only
broken at the joints, took on an unnatural shape. The heel of his small foot was turned
towards the front. His arm hung loosely over the edge of the stretcher.
Lene whimpered continuously; every trace of her former defiance removed from her
nature. She repeated continually the claim, that she ought to be cleared of all blame for
the incident.
Thiel seemed not to notice her; with a terribly frightened expression, his eyes clung to the
child.
It became quiet all around, deadly quiet; black and hot, the lines lay on the brilliant
gravel. At midday the wind had gone, and the forest stood motionless, like stone.
The men quietly discussed a course of action with one another. One would have to go
back to the station in order to get to Friedrichshagen.
Thiel seemed to be considering whether he ought to go along. But at the moment, there
was nobody there who could take over his duties. A silent hand-movement signalled to
his wife to take the stretcher; she did not dare to refuse, although she was concerned for
the infant left-behind. Thiel accompanied the procession to the end of his duty area, then
he stopped and watched them for a long time. Suddenly he struck the flat of his hand on
his forehead, which echoed for a long way.
He wanted to wake himself up, 'It is dream, like yesterday,' he said to himself, - useless. Swaying more as he ran, he reached his hut. Inside, he fell on to the ground, face-down.
His cap rolled into the corner, his carefully-looked-after watch fell out his pocket, the top
sprung open, the glass broke. It was as if an iron fist had stopped him and grabbed him by
the neck so tightly that he was not able to move. With much moaning and groaning, he

20

sought to free himself from this steel grip. His forehead was cold, his eyes dry, his throat
burned.
The signal-bell brought him to. Thiel was able to get up and do his duty. His feet were as
heavy as lead, the track circled around him like the spoke of a huge wheel, whose axle
was his head. However, he mustered enough strength to hold himself upright for some
time.
The passenger-train came along. Tobias had to be in there. The nearer it moved, the more
the pictures swam before Thiel's eyes. Finally, he saw only the boy, broken to pieces, with
his bloody mouth. Then it was night.
After a while, he awoke from his consciousness. He found himself lying close to the
barrier in the hot sand. He stood up, shook the grains of sand from his clothes and spat
them out of his mouth. His head cleared a little more, and he was able to think more
calmly.
In the hut, he immediately picked his watch up from the floor and laid it on the table. It
had not stopped, despite the fall. For two hours, he counted the seconds and the minutes,
while he imagined what was happening to Tobias. Now Lene arrived with him; now she
stood in front of the doctor. Now he examined and felt the boy and shook his head.
'Bad, very bad - but perhaps... Who knows?' He examined him more closely. 'No,' he said
then, 'No, its over.'
'Over, over!' moaned the signalman. He got up and shouted, his rolling eyes raised to the
ceiling, his raised hands, balled involuntarily into fists. He screamed lout enough to burst
the small room apart, 'He must, must live! I tell you, he must, must live!' He kicked open
the hut's door again, through which the red fire of the evening sunset broke in, and he ran
faster and faster back to the barrier. Here, he stopped for a while, as if perplexed. Then
suddenly he moved, both arms stretched out, into the middle of the track as if he wanted
to stop something. His wide open eyes gave the impression of blindness.
Stepping backward, he seemed to retreat from something unseen. He exclaimed strongly
through his teeth in single, half-comprehensible words, 'You, do you hear, just stay. You,
just listen, stay. Give him back, he's beaten black and blue. Yes, yes, good, I will beat her
black and blue, do you hear? Just stay, give him back to me.'
It seemed as if something were moving past him, for he turned and moved, in order to
follow it in the other direction.
'You, Minna!' - His voice became a whimper, like that of a small child - 'You, Minna, do
you hear? Give him back, I want to...' He felt around in the air as if to hold somebody
back. 'Little woman, yes, then I want her... And then I want to beat her also, black and
blue, beat her as well, and I want to beat her with the cleaver, do you see? The kitchen
cleaver, the kitchen cleaver, I want to hit her with, and then she will die.

21

Yes, with the cleaver, the kitchen cleaver, yes, black blood!' There was froth around his
mouth, his glazed-over pupils moved violently.
A gentle evening breeze blew softly and continually over the forest, and fiery-pink curly
clouds hung in the western sky.
He had followed the invisible something, for about one hundred steps, when he stopped,
apparently despondent, the man stretched his arms out, pleading, imploring. He strained
his eyes and shaded them with his hand, as if to discover the unreal in the distance once
again. Finally, his hands dropped, and the strained expression on his face turned into a
dull lack of expression; he turned around and dragged himself back along the track, from
whence he came.
The sun poured its last light over the forest and then faded. The trunks of the pine-trees
stretched like pale, decaying limbs between the tree-tops, which hung on them like a
layer of grey-black mold. The hammering of a woodpecker penetrated the silence. Across
the cold, steel-blue sky went a single, red-cloud. It was as cold as a cellar, and the
signalman froze. Everything was new to him, everything strange. He did not know what
it was that he was walking on, or that which surrounded him. Then a squirrel hurried over
the track, and Thiel thought. He had to think about the Dear Lord, without knowing why.
'The Dear Lord jumps over the track, the Dear Lord jumps over the track.' He repeated
this sentence several times, in order to, as it were, find some explanation. He interrupted
himself, a glimmer entered his mind, 'But my God, thats really crazy!' He sought to bring
order into his thoughts - useless! He roamed and wandered endlessly. He shuddered with
the knowledge of his powerlessness.
Out of the nearby small birch-wood, came the cry of a child. It was a cry of rage. Almost
against his will, he hurried to it, and he found the infant, whom he had forgotten. The
baby was crying and thrashing around, lying in the stroller without a blanket and bedding.
What did Thiel want to do? What brought him over here? A swirling torrent of feelings
and thoughts engulfed him.
'The Dear Lord jumps over the track.' Now he knew what that meant. 'Tobias' - She had
murdered him, Lene, he was entrusted to her - 'Stepmother, cruel-mother,' he grunted,
'and her brat lives!' A red fog clouded his mind, the eyes of the child penetrated through
him; he felt something soft, fleshy between his fingers. Gurgling and whistling, mixed
with a hoarse crying out, met his ears, and he did not know from whom they came.
Then something entered his mind, like drops of hot sealing-wax, and it lifted itself like a
stain from his spirit. Regaining consciousness, he heard the echo of the next train ringing
through the air.
Suddenly, he understood, what he had wanted to do: his hand loosened itself from the
throat of the child, which turned under his grip. It wrestled for breath and then it began to
cough and to cry.

22

'It lives, thank the Lord, it lives!' He left it lying there and he hurried to the crossing. Dark
smoke rolled across the track in the distance, and the wind pushed it down to the ground.
Behind it, he heard the puffing of a locomotive, which sounded like the sudden tormented
breathing of an ill giant.
A cold twilight lay over the area.
After a while, when the smoke-clouds parted, Thiel recognized the gravel-train, which
was going back with empty wagons and was carrying those who had been working
throughout the day on the line.
The train had a flexible schedule and was allowed to stop anywhere, in order to pick up
workers and drop others off. A good ways before Thiel's hut, the train began to brake. A
loud squeaking, clattering, rattling and clinking penetrated for a long way into the
evening silence until the train stood silent after a single, shrill, long-drawn-out whistle.
About fifty male and female workers, were distributed in the trucks. Almost all of them
were standing, a few of the men with bared heads. All were mysteriously solemn. When
they became visible to the signalman, a whispering started up between them. The older
ones took their pipes from between their yellow teeth and held them respectfully in their
hands. Now and again, a woman would turn to blow her nose. The guard climbed down
on to the track and went up to Thiel. The workers saw how solemnly he shook his hand,
whereon Thiel walked with slow, deliberate military steps to the last wagon.
None of the workers dared to speak to him, although all of them knew him.
Out of the last wagon, the small Tobias was lifted out.
He was dead.
Lene followed him; her face was a bluish-white, brown circles lay around her eyes.
Thiel did not deign to look at her; but she was shocked at the sight of her husband. His
cheeks were hollow, his eyelashes and beard were stuck together, his hair seemed to her
to be more grey than before. There were the marks of dried tears all over his face; there
was a restless light in his eyes. She was overcome with horror by this.
For a while, an unholy stillness ruled. A deep, terrible pensiveness took hold of Thiel. It
became darker. A pack of deer stood to the side on the railway-embankment. The roebuck
stood in the middle, between the lines. He turned his thin neck curiously around, then the
locomotive whistled, and like lightning, he disappeared together with his herd.
At that moment, when the train pulled out, Thiel collapsed.
The train stopped again, and a discussion took place about what should be done now. It
was decided to put the child's body in the signalman's hut for the time being and to take

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the raving signalman, whom they had no means of bringing back to consciousness, home
on the stretcher.
And so it was. Two men carried the stretcher with the unconscious man, followed by
Lene, who continually sobbing, her faced covered with tears, pushed the stroller with the
baby through the sand.
Like a huge, glowing, crimson ball, the moon lay between the pine-tree-trunks on the
forest-floor. The higher it rose, the smaller and paler it seemed to become. Finally, it hung
like a hanging lamp, over the forest, pushing a mass of hazy light through all the holes
and gaps in the tree-tops, which coloured the faces of the people in the little procession as
if they were dead bodies.
Quickly but carefully, they moved forward through the densely packed young-wood, then
further on through the tall trees which had been standing there for centuries. The pale
light had collected as if in large, dark basins.
The unconscious man rolled from side to side and began to hallucinate. Several times he
punched out with his fists and, with closed eyes, tried to get up.
It was a lot of trouble to get him across the Spree; they had to cross a second time to fetch
the wife and the child.
When they got up on to the small rise of the hamlet, they met a few inhabitants, who
immediately learned about the accident.
The whole hamlet came out.
In the face of her acquaintances, Lene broke out wailing again.
They carried the ill man, with some difficulty, up the stairs into his flat and brought him
directly to the bed. The workers turned around immediately, in order to go back and fetch
little Tobias' body.
Old experienced people recommended cold compresses, and Lene followed their advice
with eagerness and prudence. She placed towels into ice-cold spring water and renewed
them, for the burning forehead of the unconscious man had quickly heated them through.
Fearfully she watched the breathing of the ill man, which seemed to her to become more
regular by the minute.
The excitement of the day had taken a lot out of her, and she decided to sleep a little, but
she found no rest. Whether she opened or closed her eyes, the days events consumed
her. The infant slept, she paid little attention to it compared to normal. She had become a
totally different person. Nowhere was there a mark of her earlier defiance. Yes, this ill
man with the colourless, face, shiny with sweat, ruled her in his sleep.

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A cloud covered the moon, it became darker in the room, and Lene heard only the heavy,
but regular, breathing of her husband. She considered whether she ought to turn the light
on. It was eerie for her in the darkness. But when she wanted to stand up, all her limbs
became heavy as lead, her eyelids closed, she fell asleep.
After the course of a few hours, when the men returned with body of the child, they
found the house door wide open. Confused by this, they went up the stairs into the upper
flat, whose door was also wide open.
They called the name of the woman several times, without getting an answer. Finally they
stuck a match on the wall, and the light, bursting forth, revealed a ghastly discovery.
'Murder! Murder!'
Lene lay in her own blood, her face unrecognisable, her skull battered with a cleaver.
'He has murdered his wife! He has murdered his wife!'
Panicking, they ran around. The neighbours came, one of them ran to the cradle. 'Holy
heaven!' And he recoiled, pale, with a terror-stricken expression. There lay the child with
a slit throat.
The signalman had disappeared; the search, which was started the same night, was
unsuccessful. In the morning the relief signalman found him between the lines, sitting on
the spot, where Tobias had been run over.
He held the brown stocking-cap in his hand and fondled it continually, as if it were alive.
The signalman directed a few questions at him, however, he received no answer, and soon
noticed that he was dealing with an insane person.
The man at the main signal-box telegraphed for help.
Even more men tried to entice him from the rail lines with some friendly persuasion to
no avail!
The express train, which passed at this time, had to stop; and it was only when the trainstaff overpowered him that they succeeded in removing the sick man from the track.
Thiel immediately began to rage.
They had to bind his hands and feet, and the policeman who had been summoned
supervised his transport to the Berlin prison, from which, however, he was transferred on
the first day to the lunatic asylum of the Charit. On his delivery, he still held the small
brown cap in his hands, and he guarded it with jealous care and tenderness.

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Notes
black and white
Black and white were the old national colours of the German province of Prussia, where
the story takes place.
of the forest
In the third chapter, Hauptmann uses two breaks in the text. These are indicated by a line
separating the paragraphs. This is the first of these breaks, signalling a change from the
former descriptive text to the action text.
piece of newspaper
The German refers to the piece of newspaper with the pronoun 'it'. For a better
translation, this has been substituted with the noun.
unearthly light
This is perhaps a reference to a shooting-star.
a mother and a father
Here, Hauptmann tries to impress upon the reader that Thiel cannot forget his wife's
expression, just as much as the fact that nobody can forget that they have a mother and a
father. Hauptmann may have used this expression in order to maintain the naturalistic
theme in the book.
goggle-eyes of a monster
This is a direct translation from the German.
behind Thiel's fore-head
This means in Thiel's mind.
letting down her skirt
See note for page 6 for 'tucked up skirt'.
Spree-Ecke
This is the area of land which Thiel and Lene had used for potato farming until they
received the notice of the termination of the lease. 'Spree-Ecke' is literally the Spreecorner, implying that the field was situated on a bend of the river Spree.
very excited
The German uses 'not a little', best translated as 'very'.
belovd spirits
German often uses the adjective 'lieb', approximate meaning 'dear', and is usually
attributed to loved ones and to deities. There is no direct equivalent in English, but here,
'belovd' suffices.

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Dear Lord
German often uses the adjective 'lieb', approximate meaning 'dear', and is usually
attributed to loved ones and to deities. There is no direct equivalent in English, but here,
'Dear' suffices.
Lene's answer
This is the second, and final, break in the text of chapter three, when there is a move to
the accident and Thiel's decline. See also the note page 8 on 'of the forest'.
between the lines
The remarks between the dashes could have been made by the author, by the train
driver/guard or by Thiel himself.
waved
Here, the German ceases to use the imperfect tense for the action of the story. It reverts to
the present, which technically is the historic present tense, which is translated as a past
tense in English. Note however, that many of the description verbs remain in the
imperfect, together a few of the action verbs.
fez
The fez is a traditional Arabic head covering. It is best described to be like a dark-red
upturned flower pot, made from thick woollen material, with a black tasselled cord
attached to the centre of the flat-end, extending down the side.
rattling box
This means the carriage full of people.
black and blue
The phrase 'black and blue' exists in German, but as 'brown and blue'.
It was him.
The German refers to 'it' not 'him'. The reference is to 'Tobiaschen', a neuter noun.
around him
The German refers to 'it' not 'him'. The reference is to 'Tobiaschen', a neuter noun.
district doctor
The German for 'district doctor' is 'Bahnarzt', literally 'railway doctor'. In these fairly
backward areas of Germany at this time, the railway was the only outside link there was,
and therefore, a doctor was appointed by the railway administration for a particular area.
procession
The procession consists of Lene and the unnamed man, ordered to assist the family, who
are carrying the stretcher, on which Tobias is lying.

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reached
The German text reverts to the imperfect tense for the action of the story from the
present. See also the note for page 12 on 'waved'.
became night
This does not mean that it literally became night, but for Thiel, it became night, in that he
fainted.
back to me
This section, in which Thiel is rambling, is very difficult to translate directly, so
paraphrasing has been used to overcome certain difficulties. Some modal verbs are given
in the German text with no infinitive, and so an appropriate one has been added for
translation purposes.
will die
The German does not use the standard verb for people dying ('sterben'), but uses the verb
for animals dying ('verrecken'). This has perhaps been done to emphasize Thiel's hate for
Lene.
track
The German uses the word for 'path' and not 'track'; but since we have been told that
Thiel has been walking along the track, the word is used here and later on for continuity.
Dear Lord
German often uses the adjective 'lieb', approximate meaning 'dear', and is usually
attributed to loved ones and to deities. There is no direct equivalent in English, but here,
'Dear' suffices.
track
The German uses the word for 'path' and not 'track'; but since we have been told that
Thiel has been walking along the track, the word is used here and later on for continuity.
Gurgling...they came
The order of this sentence has been changed for translation.
bared heads
This means that they were not wearing a cap or a hat.
young wood
This was an area of land on which saplings had been planted to replace those trees which
were cut down.
spring
Spring is used for continuity of translation, although in the hamlet, there may indeed have
been a well. The German word used is 'Brunnen', which has several meanings, the most

28

likely of which is 'spring'. A favoured alternative would be 'well', but taking its isolation
into account, this is unlikely.
ruled...sleep
Hauptmann had described earlier how Lene had ruled over Thiel (see chapter one), and
now he describes how Thiel has rule over Lene.
stocking-cap
This could be translated as 'fur-cap', but considering the time of year, June, it is more
likely to be a stocking-cap. However, Hauptmann earlier described Tobias, on walking to
the line on Monday morning, to be wearing a velvet-cap. This could be an error on
Hauptmann's part.
signalman
Up to this point, Thiel has been described as the signalman. From the time of Tobias'
return, dead, Thiel is totally unable to do the job of signalman, and so Hauptmann may
have considered Thiel to have resigned the position; also, Hauptmann does not refer to
Thiel as the signalman following his collapse. This reference to 'signalman' is for the
relief-signalman.
Charit
The Charit is a famous hospital in Berlin, to whose psychiatric section ('lunatic asylum')
Thiel is transferred.

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