Chapter 10

Whenever Josaphat tried, during the days which followed, to break through the barrier which was drawn around Freder, there was always a strange person there, and always a different one, who said, with expressionless mien:

In the days that followed, whenever Josaphat tried to get past the barrier around Freder, a strange person was always there. It was always a different person, who said without expression:

“Mr. Freder cannot receive anybody. Mr. Freder is ill.”

“Mr. Freder can't see anyone. Mr. Freder is ill.”

But Freder was not ill—at least not as illness generally manifests itself among mankind. From morning until evening, from evening until morning, Josaphat watched the house, the crown of the tower of which was Freder’s flat. He never saw Freder leave the house. But for hours at a time he saw, during the night, behind the white-veiled windows, which ran the breadth of the wall, a shadow wandering up and down—and saw at the hour of twilight, when the rooves of Metropolis still shone, bathed in the sun, and the darkness of the ravines of its streets was flooded out by streams of cold light, the same shadow, a motionless form, standing on the narrow balcony which ran around this, almost the highest house in Metropolis.

But Freder was not ill, at least not in the way people usually are. From morning to evening and from evening to morning, Josaphat watched the building. Freder’s apartment was at the top of its tower. Josaphat never saw him leave. But at night, for hours at a time, he saw a shadow pacing behind the white-curtained windows that stretched across the wall. At twilight, he saw the same shadow standing motionless on the narrow balcony around the building. It was one of the tallest buildings in Metropolis. The city’s rooftops still shone in the sunlight, while streams of cold light flooded the dark ravines of its streets.

Yet what was expressed by the shadow’s wandering up and down, by the motionless standing still of the shadow form, was not illness. It was uttermost helplessness. Lying on the roof of the house which was opposite Freder’s flat, Josaphat watched the man who had chosen him as friend and brother, whom he had betrayed and to whom he had returned. He could not discern his face but he read from the pale patch which this face was in the setting sun, in the shower-bath of the searchlight, that the man over there, whose eyes were staring across Metropolis, did not see Metropolis.

Yet the shadow pacing back and forth, then standing motionless, did not suggest illness. It showed utter helplessness. Josaphat lay on the roof of the house opposite Freder’s flat, watching him. Freder had chosen Josaphat as a friend and brother. Josaphat had betrayed him and then returned to him. He could not make out Freder’s face. It was a pale patch in the setting sun and the flood of the searchlight. But Josaphat could tell that Freder’s eyes, though staring across Metropolis, did not see it.

Sometimes people would emerge beside him, would speak to him, expecting an answer. But the answer never came. Then the people would go, crushed.

Sometimes people appeared beside him and spoke to him, expecting an answer. But he never answered. Then they left, crushed.

Once Joh Fredersen came—came to his son, who stood on the narrow balcony, seeming not to know that his father was near. Joh Fredersen spoke to him for a long time. He laid his hand on his son’s hand, which was resting on the railing. The mouth received no answer. The hand received no answer. Only once did Freder turn his head, then with difficulty, as though the joints of his neck were rusted. He looked at Joh Fredersen.

Once, Joh Fredersen came to his son. Freder stood on the narrow balcony, seeming not to know his father was there. Joh Fredersen spoke to him for a long time. He laid his hand on his son’s hand, which rested on the railing. His words received no answer. His hand received no answer. Only once did Freder turn his head. He did so with difficulty, as though the joints in his neck were rusted. He looked at Joh Fredersen.

Joh Fredersen went.

Joh Fredersen went.

And when his father had gone Freder turned his head back again on idle joints and stared out once more across Metropolis, which was dancing in a whirl of light, staring with blind eyes.

When his father had gone, Freder turned his head back, his neck limp, and stared blindly across Metropolis again. The city danced in a whirl of light.

The railing of the narrow balcony on which he stood appeared as an insuperable wall of loneliness, of deep, inward consciousness of having been deserted. No calling, no signalling, not even the loudest of sounds penetrated this wall which was washed about by the strong, lustrous surf of the great Metropolis.

The railing of the narrow balcony where he stood seemed like an impassable wall of loneliness. It reflected his deep, inward sense of having been deserted. No calls or signals, not even the loudest sounds, could penetrate this wall. The powerful, gleaming surf of the great Metropolis washed around it.

But Josaphat did not want to have ventured the leap from heaven to earth, to have sent a man, who was but performing his duty, into infinity, impotently to make a halt before this wall of loneliness.

But Josaphat did not want it all to end helplessly before this wall of loneliness. He had dared to leap from heaven to earth and sent a man who was only doing his duty into infinity.

There came a night which hung, glowing and vaporous over Metropolis. A thunder storm, which was still distant, burnt its warning fires in deep clouds. All the lights of the great Metropolis seemed more violently, seemed more wildly to lavish themselves on the darkness.

One night hung glowing and hazy over Metropolis. A distant thunderstorm lit deep clouds with warning fires. All the lights of the great Metropolis seemed to pour themselves into the darkness with greater force and wildness.

Freder stood by the railing of the narrow balcony his hot hands laid on the railing. A sultry, uneasy puff of wind tugged at him, making the white silk which covered his now much emaciated body to flutter.

Freder stood at the railing of the narrow balcony, his hands hot against it. A sultry, unsettling gust of wind tugged at him. It made the white silk covering his now much thinner body flutter.

Around the ridge of the roof of the house right opposite him there ran, in a shining border, a shining word, running in an everlasting circuit around, behind itself....

A shining word ran around the roof ridge of the house directly opposite him. It followed a shining border, circling endlessly behind itself....

Phantasus.... Phantasus.... Phantasus....

Phantasus.... Phantasus.... Phantasus....

Freder did not see this row of words. The retina received it—not the brain.

Freder did not see the row of words. His eyes registered them, but his brain did not.

Eternal hammering similarity of the wandering word....

The wandering word, endlessly, hammeringly the same....

Phantasus.... Phantasus.... Phantasus....

Phantasus.... Phantasus.... Phantasus....

Suddenly the word picture was extinguished and in its place numbers sparkled out of the darkness, disappearing again, again emerging, and this coming and disappearing, coming again and again disappearing, and coming anew had the effect in its unmistakability, of a penetrating, persistent call.

Suddenly, the word picture went dark. In its place, numbers sparkled out of the darkness, then disappeared and reappeared. They kept coming and going, again and again. Their repeated appearance was unmistakable, like a piercing, persistent call.

Freder’s eyes caught the numbers.

Freder noticed the numbers.

They turned around, they came back again.

They turned around and came back.

Thoughts stumbled through his brain.

Thoughts stumbled through his mind.

90— — —? and 7— — —? a second 7——?

90...? And 7...? A second 7...?

What did that mean?... How obtrusive these numbers were.

What did that mean?... These numbers were so hard to ignore.

Freder closed his eyes. But now the numbers were within him. He saw them flame up, sparkle, go out ... flame up, sparkle, go out.

Freder closed his eyes. But now the numbers were inside him. He saw them flare up, sparkle, and fade ... flare up, sparkle, and fade.

Was that—no ... or yes?

Was that, no ... or yes?

Did not these numbers, some time ago, what seemed to him an immeasurably long period ago, also convey something to him?

Hadn't these numbers meant something to him once, too? That was some time ago, though it seemed immeasurably long ago to him.

99 — — — 90 — — —

99 . . . 90 . . .

Suddenly a voice in his head said:

Suddenly, a voice in his head said:

Ninetieth Block.... Ninetieth Block.... House seven ... seventh floor....

Ninetieth Block.... Ninetieth Block.... House seven ... seventh floor....

Freder opened his eyes. Over there, on the house just opposite, the numbers jerked up, asked and called....

Freder opened his eyes. On the building directly across from him, the numbers jerked upward, asking and calling....

Freder bent forward over the railing so that it seemed he must hurtle into space. The numbers dazzled him. He made a movement with his arm as though he wanted to cover them up or put them out.

Freder leaned so far over the railing that he seemed about to fall into space. The numbers dazzled him. He moved his arm as if he wanted to cover them up or put them out.

They went out. The shining border went out. The house stood in gloom, only half its height washed around by the shimmer from the white street. The stormy sky, becoming suddenly visible, lay above its roof and lightning seemed to be crackling.

They went out. The shining border went out. The house stood in darkness, its lower half lit by the glow from the white street. The stormy sky suddenly appeared above the roof, and lightning seemed to crackle.

In the faded light, over there, stood a man.

A man stood over there in the fading light.

Freder stepped back from the railing. He raised both hands before his mouth. He looked to the right, to the left; he raised both arms. Then he turned away, as if removed by a natural power from the spot on which he stood, ran into the house, ran through the room, stopped still again....

Freder stepped back from the railing. He raised both hands to his mouth. He looked right, then left. He raised both arms. Then he turned away, as if a force of nature had pulled him from where he stood. He ran into the house, ran through the room, and stopped again....

Carefully ... carefully now....

Carefully ... carefully now....

He reflected. He pressed his head between his fists. Was there among his servants, one single soul who could be trusted not to betray him to Slim?

He thought. He pressed his head between his fists. Was there a single servant he could trust not to betray him to Slim?

What a miserable state—what a miserable state—!

What a miserable state, what a miserable state!

But what alternative had he to the leap in the dark, the blind trust—the ultimate test of confidence?

But what choice did he have except to take a leap in the dark, to trust blindly? It was the ultimate test of confidence.

He would have liked to extinguish the lights in his room, but he did not dare to, for up to this day he had not been able to bear darkness about him. He paced up and down. He felt the perspiration on his forehead and the trembling of his joints. He could not calculate the time which elapsed. The blood roared in his veins like a cataract. The first flash of lightning flickered over Metropolis, and, in the tardy responding rumble of thunder the rushing of the rain at last, mixed itself soothingly. It swallowed up the sound of the opening of the door. When Freder turned around Josaphat was standing in the middle of the room. He was dressed in workman’s uniform.

He wanted to turn off the lights in his room, but he did not dare. Even now, he could not bear to be in the dark. He paced up and down. He felt sweat on his forehead and his joints trembling. He could not tell how much time had passed. The blood roared through his veins like a waterfall. The first flash of lightning flickered over Metropolis. As the thunder rumbled belatedly in response, the rush of rain finally joined it, soothing him. The rain drowned out the sound of the door opening. When Freder turned around, Josaphat was standing in the middle of the room. He was dressed in a worker’s uniform.

They walked up to each other as though driven by an outward power. But, halfway, they both stopped and looked at each other, and each had for the other the same horrified question on his face. Where have you been since I saw you last? To what hell have you descended?

They walked toward each other as if driven by an outside force. But halfway there, they both stopped and looked at each other. Each had the same horrified question on his face. Where have you been since I last saw you? What hell have you descended into?

Freder with his feverish haste, was the first to collect himself. He seized his friend by the arm.

In his feverish haste, Freder was the first to regain his composure. He grabbed his friend by the arm.

“Sit down!” he said in his toneless voice, which occasionally held the morbid dryness of things burnt. He sat down beside him, not taking his hand from the arm. “You waited for me—in vain and in vain.... I could not send you a message, forgive me!”

“Sit down!” he said in a toneless voice that sometimes had the grim dryness of something burned. He sat down beside him, keeping his hand on his arm. “You waited for me, again and again, but I never came.... I couldn't send you a message. Forgive me!”

“I have nothing to forgive you, Mr. Freder,” said Josaphat, quietly. “I did not wait for you.... On the evening on which I was to have waited for you, I was far, far away from Metropolis and from you....”

“I have nothing to forgive you for, Mr. Freder,” Josaphat said quietly. “I didn't wait for you.... On the evening I was supposed to wait for you, I was far, far away from Metropolis and from you....”

Freder’s waiting eyes looked at him.

Freder looked at him expectantly.

“I betrayed you, Mr. Freder,” said Josaphat.

“I betrayed you, Mr. Freder,” said Josaphat.

Freder smiled, but Josaphat’s eyes extinguished his smile.

Freder smiled, but the look in Josaphat’s eyes made his smile fade.

“I betrayed you, Mr. Freder,” repeated the man. “Slim came to me.... He offered me much money.... But I only laughed.... I threw it at his head. But then he laid on the table a slip with your father’s signature.... You must believe me, Mr. Freder. He would never have caught me with the money. There is no sum of money for which I would have sold you.... But when I saw your father’s handwriting.... I still put up a fight. I would gladly have throttled him. But I had no more strength.... JOH FREDERSEN was written on the slip.... I had no more strength then....”

“I betrayed you, Mr. Freder,” the man repeated. “Slim came to me.... He offered me a lot of money.... But I just laughed.... I threw the money at his head. But then he put a slip of paper with your father’s signature on the table.... You must believe me, Mr. Freder. He could never have won me over with money. There is no amount of money for which I would have sold you.... But when I saw your father’s handwriting.... I still fought back. I would gladly have strangled Slim. But I had no strength left.... JOH FREDERSEN was written on the slip.... I had no strength left then....”

“I can understand that,” said Joh Fredersen’s son.

“I can understand that,” said Joh Fredersen’s son.

“Thank you.... I was to go away from Metropolis—right far away.... I flew.... The pilot was a strange man. We kept flying straight towards the sun. The sun was setting. Then it occurred to my empty brain that now the hour would come in which I was to wait for you. And I should not be there when you came.... I wanted to turn back. I asked the pilot. He wouldn’t. He wanted to carry me away by force, farther and farther from Metropolis. He was as obstinate as only a man can be when he knows Slim’s will to be behind him. I begged and I threatened. But nothing was of any use. So then, with one of his own tools, I smashed in his skull.”

“Thank you.... I was supposed to leave Metropolis and go far away.... I flew.... The pilot was a strange man. We kept flying straight toward the sun. The sun was setting. Then it occurred to my empty brain that it was almost time for me to wait for you. And I wouldn’t be there when you came.... I wanted to turn back. I asked the pilot, but he refused. He wanted to take me away by force, farther and farther from Metropolis. He was as stubborn as only a man who knows he has Slim’s will behind him can be. I begged and threatened him. But nothing worked. So then, with one of his own tools, I smashed in his skull.”

Freder’s fingers, which were still resting on Josaphat’s arm, tightened their hold a little; but they lay still again immediately.

Freder’s fingers were still resting on Josaphat’s arm. They tightened their grip slightly, but immediately lay still again.

“Then I jumped out, and I was so far away from Metropolis that a young girl who picked me up in the field did not know the great Metropolis even by name.... I came here and found no message from you, and all that I found out was that you were ill....”

“Then I jumped out. I was so far from Metropolis that a young girl who picked me up in the field had never heard of it.... I came here and found no message from you. All I found out was that you were ill....”

He hesitated and was silent, looking at Freder.

He hesitated and said nothing, looking at Freder.

“I am not ill,” said Freder, looking straight ahead. He loosened his fingers from Josaphat’s arm and bent forward, laying the palms of both hands flat on his head. He spoke into space.... “But do you believe, Josaphat, that I am mad?”

“I’m not ill,” said Freder, looking straight ahead. He let go of Josaphat’s arm and bent forward, pressing both palms flat against his head. He spoke into the air.... “But do you think I’m mad, Josaphat?”

“No.”

“No.”

“But I must be,” said Freder, and he shrank together, so narrow that it seemed as if a little boy, filled with a mighty fear, were sitting in his place. His voice sounded suddenly quite high and thin and something in it brought the water to Josaphat’s eyes.

“But I must be,” said Freder. He drew himself in so tightly that he looked like a little boy overcome with fear. His voice suddenly sounded high and thin. Something in it brought tears to Josaphat’s eyes.

Josaphat stretched out his hand, fumbled, and found Freder’s shoulder. His hand closed around his neck and drew him gently towards him, holding him still and fast.

Josaphat reached out, fumbled, and found Freder’s shoulder. He closed his hand around Freder’s neck and gently pulled him closer, holding him firmly in place.

“Just tell me about it, Mr. Freder!” he said. “I do not think there are many things which seem insuperable to me since I sprang, as though from heaven to earth, from the aeroplane which was steered by a dead man. Also,” he continued in a soft voice, “I learnt in one single night that one can bear very much when one has some one near one who keeps watch, asks nothing and is simply there.”

“Just tell me about it, Mr. Freder!” he said. “I don't think many things seem impossible to me now. Not since I jumped from a plane flown by a dead man, as if falling from heaven to earth. Also,” he continued softly, “I learned in a single night that you can bear a great deal. You can bear it when someone is near you, keeping watch, asking nothing, and simply being there.”

“I am mad, Josaphat,” said Freder. “But—I don’t know if it is any consolation—I am not the only one....”

“I’m mad, Josaphat,” said Freder. “But I don’t know if it’s any comfort. I’m not the only one....”

Josaphat was silent. His patient hand lay motionless on Freder’s shoulder.

Josaphat said nothing. His patient hand rested still on Freder’s shoulder.

And suddenly, as though his soul were an over-filled vessel, which had lost its balance, toppled over and poured out in streams, Freder began to speak. He told his friend the story of Maria, from the moment of their first meeting in the “Club of Sons,” to when they saw each other again right down under the earth in the City of the Dead—his waiting for her in the cathedral, his experiences in Rotwang’s house, his vain search, the curt “no” at Maria’s home, up to the moment when, for her sake, he wanted to be the murderer of his own father—no, not for her sake: for that of a being who was not there, whom he only believed himself to see....

Suddenly, Freder began to speak, as if his soul were an overflowing vessel that had tipped over and poured out in streams. He told his friend the story of Maria, beginning with their first meeting in the “Club of Sons.” He told him how they met again deep underground in the City of the Dead. He spoke of waiting for her in the cathedral, his experiences in Rotwang’s house, and his fruitless search. He told him about the curt “no” he received at Maria’s home. He went on to the moment when, for her sake, he wanted to murder his own father. No, not for her sake, but for the sake of a being who was not there, whom he only believed he saw....

“Was that not madness—?”

“Wasn't that madness?”

“Hallucination, Mr. Freder....”

“Hallucination, Mr. Freder....”

“Hallucination—? I will tell you some more about hallucination, Josaphat, and you mustn’t believe that I am speaking in delirium or that I am not fully master of my thoughts. I wanted to kill my father.... It was not my fault that the attempt at parricide was unsuccessful.... But ever since that moment I have not been human.... I am a creature that has no feet, no hands and hardly a head. And this head is only there eternally to think that I wanted to kill my own father. Do you believe that I shall ever get free from this hell—? Never, Josaphat. Never—never in all eternity. I lay during the night hearing my father walking up and down in the next room. I lay in the depths of a black pit; but my thoughts ran along behind my father’s steps, as though chained to his soles. What horror has come upon the world that this could happen? Is there a comet in the heavens which drives mankind to madness? Is a fresh plague coming, or Anti-Christ? Or the end of the world? A woman, who does not exist, forces herself between father and son and incites the son to murder against the father.... It may be that my thoughts were running themselves a little hot at the time.... Then my father came in to me....”

“Hallucination? I’ll tell you more about hallucination, Josaphat. You mustn’t think I’m delirious or that I’m not fully in control of my thoughts. I wanted to kill my father.... It was not my fault that my attempt to kill him failed.... But ever since that moment, I have not been human.... I am a creature with no feet, no hands, and hardly a head. And my head is there only to think forever that I wanted to kill my own father. Do you believe I will ever escape this hell? Never, Josaphat. Never, never in all eternity. During the night, I lay listening to my father walk up and down in the next room. I lay in the depths of a black pit. But my thoughts followed my father’s steps, as though chained to his soles. What horror has come upon the world to make this possible? Is there a comet in the heavens driving mankind mad? Is another plague coming, or the Anti-Christ? Or the end of the world? A woman who does not exist comes between father and son and urges the son to murder his father.... Maybe my thoughts were running a little wild at the time.... Then my father came in to see me....”

He stopped and his wasted hands twisted themselves together upon his damp hair.

He stopped and twisted his thin hands together on his damp hair.

“You know my father. There are many in the great Metropolis who do not believe Joh Fredersen to be human, because he seems not to need to eat and drink and he sleeps when he wishes to; and usually he does not wish to.... They call him The Brain of Metropolis, and if it is true that fear is the source of all religion then the brain of Metropolis is not very far off from becoming a deity.... This man, who is my father came up to my bed.... He walked on tip-toe, Josaphat. He bent over me and held his breath.... My eyes were shut. I lay quite still and it seemed to me as though my father must hear my soul crying within me. Then I loved him more than anything on earth. But if my life had been dependent on it, I should still not have been able to open my eyes. I felt my father’s hand smoothing my pillow. Then he went again as he had come, on tip-toe, closing the door quite soundlessly behind him. Do you know what he had done?”

“You know my father. Many people in the great Metropolis do not believe Joh Fredersen is human. He seems not to need food or drink, and he sleeps when he wants to. Usually, he does not want to.... They call him The Brain of Metropolis. If fear is the source of all religion, then the brain of Metropolis is not far from becoming a deity.... This man, my father, came up to my bed.... He walked on tiptoe, Josaphat. He bent over me and held his breath.... My eyes were closed. I lay perfectly still, and I felt sure my father could hear my soul crying within me. At that moment, I loved him more than anything on earth. But even if my life had depended on it, I could not have opened my eyes. I felt my father’s hand smoothing my pillow. Then he left as he had come, on tiptoe, closing the door silently behind him. Do you know what he had done?”

“No....”

“No....”

“No.... I don’t see how you could. I only realised it myself some hours later.... For the first time since the great Metropolis had stood, Joh Fredersen had omitted to press on the little blue metal plate and to let the Behemoth-voice of Metropolis roar out, because he did not wish to disturb his son’s sleep....”

“No.... I don’t see how you could. I only realized it myself a few hours later.... For the first time since the great Metropolis had been built, Joh Fredersen had not pressed the little blue metal plate to make the Behemoth-voice of Metropolis roar out. He did not want to disturb his son’s sleep....”

Josaphat lowered his head; he said nothing. Freder let his intertwined hands sink.

Josaphat lowered his head and said nothing. Freder lowered his clasped hands.

“Then I realised,” he continued, “that my father had quite forgiven me.... And when I realised that, I really fell asleep....”

“Then I realized,” he continued, “that my father had completely forgiven me.... And when I realized that, I really fell asleep....”

He stood up and remained standing, seeming to be listening to the rushing of the rain. The lightning was still flashing out over Metropolis, the angry thunder bounding after. But the rushing of the rain drowned it.

He stood up and stayed there, seeming to listen to the rushing rain. Lightning still flashed over Metropolis, followed by angry thunder. But the rushing rain drowned out the thunder.

“I slept ...” Freder went on—so softly that the other could scarcely follow his words—“then I began to dream.... I saw this city—this great Metropolis—in the light of a ghostly unreality. A weird moon stood in the sky; as though along a broad street this ghostly, unreal light flowed down upon the city, which was deserted to the last soul. All the houses were distorted and had faces. They squinted evilly and spitefully down at me, for I was walking deep down between them, along the glimmering street.

“I slept ...” Freder went on, speaking so softly that the other man could barely make out his words. “Then I began to dream.... I saw this city, this great Metropolis, in a ghostly, unreal light. A strange moon hung in the sky. Its ghostly, unreal light flowed down on the city as if along a broad street. The city was completely deserted. All the houses were distorted and had faces. They squinted down at me with evil and spite, for I was walking far below them along the shimmering street.

“Quite narrow was this street as though crushed between the houses; it was as though made of a greenish glass—like a solidified, glazen river. I glided along it and looked down through it into the cold bubbling of a subterranean fire.

“The street was very narrow, as though crushed between the houses. It seemed to be made of greenish glass, like a river frozen into glass. I glided along it and looked down through it at the cold bubbling of an underground fire.

“I did not know my destination, but I knew I had one, and went very fast in order to reach it the sooner. I quietened my step as well as I could, but its sound was excessively loud and awakened a rustling whisper over the crooked house-walls as though the houses were murmuring against me. I quickened my pace and ran, and, at last, raced along, and the more swiftly I raced the more hoarsely did the echo of the steps sound after me, as though there were an army at my heels, I was dripping with sweat....

“I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I had a destination. I went very fast to reach it sooner. I tried to walk as quietly as I could, but my footsteps were very loud. They stirred a rustling whisper along the crooked walls of the houses, as though the houses were murmuring against me. I walked faster, then ran, and finally raced along. The faster I raced, the more hoarsely my footsteps echoed behind me. It sounded as though an army were at my heels. I was dripping with sweat....

“The town was alive. The houses were alive. Their open mouths snarled after me. The window-caverns, open eyes, winked blindly, horribly, maliciously.

“The town was alive. The houses were alive. Their open mouths snarled after me. The windows were like caves and open eyes. They winked blindly, horribly, maliciously.

“Graspingly, I reached the square before the cathedral....

“Reaching out, I made my way to the square in front of the cathedral....

“The cathedral was lighted up. The doors stood open—no, they did not stand open. They reeled to and fro like swing-doors through which an invisible stream of guests was passing. The organ rolled, but not with music. Croaking, bawling, screeching and whimpering sounded from the organ and intermingled were wanton dance tunes, wailing whore-songs.

“The cathedral was lit up. The doors stood open. No, they did not stand open. They swung back and forth like swing doors through which an invisible stream of guests was passing. The organ roared, but not with music. Croaking, bawling, screeching, and whimpering came from the organ, mixed with lewd dance tunes and wailing whore songs.

“The swing-doors, the light, the organ’s witches sabbath, everything appeared to be mysteriously excited, hurried, as though there were no time to be lost, and full of a deep evil satisfaction.

“The swinging doors, the light, the organ’s witches’ sabbath, everything seemed strangely excited and hurried. It was as if there were no time to lose. Everything seemed full of deep, evil satisfaction.

“I walked over to the cathedral and up the steps. A door laid hold of me, like an arm, and wafted me gustily in the cathedral.

“I walked over to the cathedral and climbed the steps. A door grabbed me like an arm and swept me into the cathedral on a gust of wind.

“But that was as little the cathedral as the town was Metropolis. A pack of lunatics seemed to have taken possession of it, and not even human beings, at that. Dwarf-like creatures, resembling half monkey, half devil. In place of the saints, goat-like figures, petrified in the most ridiculous of leaps, reigned in the pillar niches. And around every pillar danced a ring, raving to the bawling of the music.

“But that was no more the cathedral than the town was Metropolis. A pack of lunatics seemed to have taken it over. They did not even seem human. They were dwarf-like creatures, half monkey and half devil. Goat-like figures had replaced the saints in the niches of the pillars. They were frozen in the most ridiculous leaps. Around every pillar, a circle of people danced wildly to the blaring music.

“Empty, ungodded, splintered, hung the crucifix above the high altar, from which the holy vessels had vanished.

“The crucifix hung above the high altar, empty and splintered, its figure of Christ gone. The holy vessels had vanished from the altar.

“A fellow, dressed in black, the caricature of a monk, stood in the pulpit, howling out in a pulpit-voice:

“A man dressed in black stood in the pulpit, a caricature of a monk. He howled in a preacher’s voice:

“'Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand!'

“'Repent! The kingdom of heaven is near!'

“A loud neigh answered him.

“A loud neigh answered him.

“The organ-player—I saw him, he was like a demon—stood with his hands and feet on the keys and his head beat time to the ring-dance of the spirits.

“The organ player stood with his hands and feet on the keys. I saw him. He was like a demon. His head kept time with the spirits’ circle dance.

“The fellow in the pulpit pulled out a book, an enormous, black book with seven locks. Whenever his fingers touched a lock it sprang up in flame and shot open.

“The man in the pulpit pulled out an enormous black book with seven locks. Whenever his fingers touched a lock, it burst into flames and flew open.

“Murmuring incantations, he opened the cover. He bent over the book. A ring of flames suddenly stood around his head.

“Muttering incantations, he opened the cover. He bent over the book. A ring of flames suddenly appeared around his head.

“From the heights of the cathedral it struck midnight. But it was as though it was not enough for the clock to proclaim the hour of demons just once. Over and over again did it strike the ghastly twelve, in dreadful, bated haste.

“From high in the cathedral, the clock struck midnight. But it seemed that proclaiming the hour of demons once was not enough. Over and over, the clock struck the ghastly twelve, in a dreadful, breathless rush.

“The light in the cathedral changed colour. Were it possible to speak of a blackish light this would be the expression best applied to the light. Only in one place did it shine, white, gleaming, cutting, a sharply whetted sword: there where death is figured as a minstrel.

“The light in the cathedral changed color. If light could be called blackish, that would best describe it. In only one place did it shine white, gleaming and cutting like a sharply honed sword: where death was depicted as a minstrel.

“Suddenly the organ stopped, and suddenly the dance. The voice of the preacher-fellow in the pulpit stopped. And through the silence which did not dare to breathe, rang the sound of a flute. Death was playing. The minstrel was playing the song which nobody plays after him, on his flute which was a human bone.

“Suddenly the organ stopped, and so did the dance. The preacher in the pulpit stopped speaking. In the silence, which did not dare to breathe, a flute sounded. Death was playing. The minstrel played the song that nobody plays after him. His flute was a human bone.

“The ghostly minstrel stepped from out his side-niche, carved in wood, in hat and wide cloak, scythe on shoulder, the hour-glass dangling from his girdle. Playing his flute, he stepped out of his niche and made his way through the cathedral. And behind him came the seven Deadly Sins as the following of Death.

“The ghostly minstrel stepped out of his side niche. He was carved from wood and wore a hat and a wide cloak. A scythe rested on his shoulder, and an hourglass hung from his belt. Playing his flute, he made his way through the cathedral. Behind him came the seven Deadly Sins, following Death.

“Death performed a circle around every pillar. Louder and ever louder rang the sound of his flute. The seven Deadly Sins seized hands. As a widely swung chain they paced behind Death; and gradually their paces became a light dance.

“Death circled each pillar. The sound of his flute grew louder and louder. The seven Deadly Sins joined hands. They walked behind Death like a chain swinging wide. Gradually, their steps became a light dance.

“The seven Deadly Sins danced along behind Death, who was playing the flute.

“The seven Deadly Sins danced behind Death, who was playing the flute.

“Then the cathedral was filled with a light which seemed to be made from rose-leaves. An inexpressibly sweet, overpowering perfume hovered up, like incense, between the pillars. The light grew stronger and it seemed to ring. Pale red lightning flashed from the heights collecting itself in the central nave, to the magnificent radiance of a crown.

“Then the cathedral filled with a light that seemed to be made of rose petals. An indescribably sweet, overpowering fragrance rose like incense between the pillars. The light grew stronger and seemed to ring. Pale red lightning flashed from above and gathered in the central nave, forming the magnificent radiance of a crown.

“The crown rested on the head of a woman. And the woman was sitting upon a scarlet-coloured beast, having seven heads and ten horns. And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet and decked with gold, precious stones and pearls. She had in her hand a golden cup. On the crowned brow of the woman there stood, mysteriously written: Babylon.

“A crown rested on a woman’s head. She sat on a scarlet beast with seven heads and ten horns. She wore purple and scarlet clothes, adorned with gold, precious stones and pearls. She held a golden cup in her hand. On her crowned forehead, a word was mysteriously written: Babylon.

“Like a deity, she grew up and radiated. Death and the seven Deadly Sins bowed low before her.

“Like a goddess, she grew up and shone. Death and the seven Deadly Sins bowed before her.

“And the woman who bore the name Babylon had the features of Maria, whom I loved....

“And the woman named Babylon had the face of Maria, whom I loved....

“The woman arose. She touched the cross-arched vault of the lofty cathedral with her crown. She seized the hem of her cloak and opened it. And spread out her cloak with both hands.... Then one saw that the golden cloak was embroidered with the images of manifold demons. Beings with women’s bodies and snakes’ heads—beings half bull, half angel—devils adorned with crowns, human faced lions.

“The woman rose. Her crown touched the cross-arched ceiling of the towering cathedral. She grasped the hem of her cloak and opened it. She spread it out with both hands.... Then the images of many demons embroidered on the golden cloak became visible. There were beings with women’s bodies and snakes’ heads, beings half bull and half angel, devils wearing crowns, and lions with human faces.

“The flute song of Death was silenced. But the fellow in the pulpit raised his yelling voice:

“Death's flute song fell silent. But the man in the pulpit raised his voice and shouted:

“'Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand!'

“'Repent! The kingdom of heaven is near!'

“The church-clock was still hammering the wild twelve-time of midnight.

“The church clock was still wildly striking twelve at midnight.

“The woman looked Death in the face. She opened her mouth. She said to Death: ‘Go!'

“The woman looked Death in the face. She opened her mouth. She said to Death: ‘Go!'

“Then Death hung the flute on his girdle, by the hour-glass, took the scythe down from his shoulder and went. He went through the cathedral and went out of the cathedral. And from the cloak of the great Babylon, the demons freed themselves, come to life, and flew after Death.

“Then Death hung the flute on his belt, beside the hourglass. He took the scythe from his shoulder and went on. He passed through the cathedral and went outside. From the cloak of the great Babylon, the demons broke free. They came to life and flew after Death.

“Death went down the steps of the cathedral, into the town; black birds with human faces rustling around him. He raised the scythe as if indicating the way. Then they divided themselves and swooped apart. The broad wings darkened the moon.

“Death walked down the cathedral steps into the town. Black birds with human faces rustled around him. He raised the scythe as if to point the way. Then the birds split up and swooped away from each other. Their broad wings darkened the moon.

“Death flung back his wide cloak. He stretched himself up and grew. He grew much taller even than the houses of Metropolis. The highest hardly reached to his knee.

“Death threw back his wide cloak. He stretched upward and grew. He grew much taller than the houses of Metropolis. Even the tallest hardly reached his knee.

“Death swung his scythe and made a whistling cut. The earth and all the stars quivered. But the scythe did not seem to be sharp enough for him. He looked about him as though seeking a seat. The New Tower of Babel seemed to suit Death. He sat down on the New Tower of Babel, propped up the scythe, took the whet-stone from his girdle, spat on it and began to whet the scythe. Blue sparks flew out of the steel. Then Death arose and made a second blow. A rain of stars poured down from the sky.

“Death swung his scythe, cutting the air with a whistle. The earth and all the stars trembled. But the scythe did not seem sharp enough for him. He looked around as if searching for a seat. The New Tower of Babel seemed to suit Death. He sat down on the New Tower of Babel and propped up his scythe. He took the whetstone from his belt, spat on it, and began to sharpen the scythe. Blue sparks flew from the steel. Then Death stood up and swung a second time. A rain of stars poured down from the sky.

“Death nodded with satisfaction, turned around and set off, on his way through the great Metropolis.”

“Death nodded with satisfaction, turned around, and set off through the great Metropolis.”