Chapter 11

15 min

“Yes,” said Josaphat hoarsely, “but that was a dream....”

“Yes,” Josaphat said hoarsely, “but that was a dream....”

“Of course it was a dream.... And they say dreams are bubbles, don’t they? But just listen to this, Josaphat.... I emerged from this dream back into reality with a feeling of sadness, which seemed to hack me, as with a knife, from head to foot. I saw Maria’s brow, that white temple of goodness and virginity, besmirched with the name of the great harlot of Babylon. I saw her send Death out over the city. I saw how abominations upon abominations loosened themselves from about her and fluttered away, swarming through the city—plague spirits, messengers of evil before the path of Death. I stood out there and looked over at the cathedral, which seemed to me to be desecrated and soiled. Its doors stood open. Dark, human snakes were creeping into the cathedral, and collecting themselves upon the steps. I thought: Perhaps, among all those pious people, is my Maria too.... I said to my father: ‘I wish to go to the cathedral....’ He let me go. I was no captive. As I reached the cathedral the organ was thundering like the Trump of Doom. Singing from a thousand throats. Dies Irae.... The incense clouded above the head of the multitude, which was kneeling before the eternal God. The crucifix hovered above the high altar, and, in the light of the restless candles, the drops of blood on the thorn-crowned brow of the son of Mary seemed to come to life, to run. The saints in the pillar niches looked at me sadly, as though they knew of my evil dream.

“Of course it was a dream.... And they say dreams are bubbles, don’t they? But just listen to this, Josaphat.... I woke from the dream feeling sad, as if a knife were cutting me from head to foot. I saw Maria’s forehead, that white temple of goodness and virginity, stained with the name of the great harlot of Babylon. I saw her send Death out over the city. I saw abominations upon abominations break loose from her and flutter away, swarming through the city. They were plague spirits, messengers of evil going before Death. I stood outside and looked at the cathedral, which seemed defiled and dirty. Its doors were open. Dark, human snakes were creeping into the cathedral and gathering on the steps. I thought: Perhaps my Maria is among all those pious people too.... I said to my father: ‘I want to go to the cathedral....’ He let me go. I was not a prisoner. When I reached the cathedral, the organ was thundering like the trumpet of doom. A thousand voices were singing. Dies Irae.... Incense clouded the air above the crowd, who were kneeling before the eternal God. The crucifix hung above the high altar. In the flickering candlelight, the drops of blood on the thorn-crowned forehead of the son of Mary seemed to come alive and run. The saints in the niches in the pillars looked at me sadly, as if they knew about my evil dream.

“I sought Maria. Oh, I knew quite well that all the thousands could not hide her from me. If she were here I should find her out, as a bird finds its way to its nest. But my heart lay as if dead in my breast. Yet I could not help looking for her. I wandered about the place where I had already waited for her once before.... Yes—so may a bird wander about the place where was its nest which it cannot find again, because the lightning or the storm has destroyed it.

“I looked for Maria. Oh, I knew very well that all those thousands of people could not hide her from me. If she were here, I would find her, as a bird finds its way to its nest. But my heart lay in my chest as if it were dead. Yet I could not stop looking for her. I wandered around the place where I had waited for her once before.... Yes, a bird might wander around the place where its nest had been. It cannot find its nest again because lightning or a storm has destroyed it.

“And, when I came to the side-niche, in which Death stands, as a minstrel, playing upon a human bone, the niche was empty, Death had disappeared....

“And when I came to the side niche where Death stands as a minstrel, playing a human bone, it was empty. Death had disappeared....

“It was as though the Death of my dream had not returned home to his following....

“It was as if the Death from my dream had not returned home to his followers....

“Do not speak, Josaphat! It is really of no importance ... a coincidence.... The carving was, perhaps, damaged—I do not know! Believe me: it is of no importance.

“Don’t speak, Josaphat! It really doesn’t matter ... a coincidence.... Perhaps the carving was damaged. I don’t know! Believe me, it doesn’t matter.

“But now a voice yelled out:

“But now a voice shouted:

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

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

“It was the voice of Desertus, the monk. His voice was like a knife. The voice peeled bare my spine. Deathly stillness reigned in the church. Among all the thousands round about, not one seemed to breathe. They were kneeling and their faces, pale masks of horror, were turned towards the preacher.

“It was the voice of Desertus, the monk. His voice was like a knife. It stripped my spine bare. The church was deathly silent. Among all the thousands gathered there, not one seemed to breathe. They were kneeling, their faces pale masks of horror, turned toward the preacher.

“His voice flew through the air like a spear.

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

“'Turn away from your sins! The kingdom of heaven is near!'

“Before me, by a pillar, stood a young man, once a fellow member of mine, of the ‘Club of the Sons.’ If I had not personally experienced how vastly human faces can change, in a short time, I should not have recognised him.

“Before me, by a pillar, stood a young man who had once been a fellow member of the ‘Club of the Sons.’ I would not have recognized him if I had not seen for myself how much faces can change in a short time.

“He was older than I, and was, it is true, not the happiest of us all, but the gayest. And the women loved him and feared him equally, for he was in no way to be captivated, either by laughter or by tears. Now he had the thousand-year-old face of men, who, yet living, are dead. It was as if a cruel executioner had removed his eye-lids, that he was condemned never to sleep, so that he was perishing of weariness.

“He was older than I was. He was not the happiest of us all, but he was the most cheerful. Women loved and feared him equally, because neither laughter nor tears could win him over. Now he had the thousand-year-old face of a man who is dead though still alive. It was as if a cruel executioner had removed his eyelids. As if he were condemned never to sleep and were dying of exhaustion.

“But it surprised me more than all to find him here, in the cathedral, for he had been, all his life long, the greatest of scoffers.

“But what surprised me most was finding him here in the cathedral. He had been the greatest scoffer all his life.

“I laid my hand on his shoulder. He did not start. He only just turned his eyes—those parched eyes.

“I put my hand on his shoulder. He did not flinch. He only turned his eyes, those parched eyes.

“I wanted to ask him: ‘What are you doing here, Jan?’ But the voice of the monk, that awful, spear-hurling voice, threw its sharpness between him and me.... The monk Desertus began to preach....”

“I wanted to ask him: ‘What are you doing here, Jan?’ But the monk’s awful voice came between us, sharp as a thrown spear.... The monk Desertus began to preach....”

Freder turned around and came to Josaphat with violent haste, as though a sudden fear had taken him. He sat down by his friend, speaking very rapidly, with words which tumbled over each other in streaming out.

Freder turned around and rushed to Josaphat, as if suddenly afraid. He sat down beside his friend and spoke rapidly, his words tumbling over one another.

At first he had hardly listened to the monk. He had watched his friend, and the congregation which was still kneeling, head pressed to head. And, as he looked at them, it seemed to him as though the monk were harpooning the congregation with his words, as though he were throwing spears, with deadly, barbed hooks, right down into the most secret soul of the listeners, as though he were tugging groaning souls out of bodies, quivering with fear.

At first, he had hardly listened to the monk. He had watched his friend and the congregation, still kneeling with their heads pressed together. As he looked at them, it seemed as if the monk were harpooning the congregation with his words. It was as if he were throwing spears with deadly barbed hooks deep into each listener’s most secret soul. It was as if he were tugging groaning souls from bodies quivering with fear.

“Who is she, who has laid fire to this city? She is herself a flame—an impure flame. You were given of a brand, might. She is a fiery blaze over man. She is Lilith, Astarte, Rose of Hell. She is Gomorrha, Babylon—Metropolis! Your own city—this fruitful, sinful City!—has born this woman from out the womb of its hell. Behold her! I say unto you: Behold her! She is the woman who is to appear before the judgment of the world.

“Who is she, this woman who has set fire to the city? She is a flame herself, an impure flame. You were given power from a burning brand. She is a fiery blaze over man. She is Lilith, Astarte, Rose of Hell. She is Gomorrha, Babylon, Metropolis! Your own city, this fruitful, sinful City!, has given birth to this woman from the womb of its hell. Look at her! I tell you: Look at her! She is the woman who will appear before the judgment of the world.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.

“Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.

“Seven angels shall stand before God, and there shall be given unto them seven trumpets. And the seven angels, which have the seven trumpets, shall prepare themselves to sound. A star shall fall from heaven to earth and there shall be given up the key to the pit of the abyss. And it shall open the pit of the abyss and there shall go up a smoke out of the pit as the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air shall be darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit. And an angel shall fly in mid heaven, saying with a great voice: ‘Woe, woe, woe, for them that dwell on the earth!’ And another angel shall follow after him and shall say: ‘Fallen, fallen, is Babylon the great!'

“Seven angels will stand before God, and they will be given seven trumpets. The seven angels with the trumpets will prepare to sound them. A star will fall from heaven to earth, and it will be given the key to the pit of the abyss. It will open the pit, and smoke will rise from it like smoke from a great furnace. The smoke from the pit will darken the sun and the air. An angel will fly in the middle of the sky, calling out in a loud voice: ‘Woe, woe, woe to those who dwell on earth!’ Another angel will follow and say: ‘Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!’”

“Seven angels come out from the heavens, and they bear in their hands the bowls of the wrath of God. And Babylon the great will be remembered in the sight of God, to give unto her the cup of the wine of the fierceness of His wrath—she who is sitting there upon a scarlet-coloured beast full of the names of blasphemy, having seven heads and ten horns. And the woman is arrayed in purple and scarlet, decked with gold and precious stones and pearls, having in her hand a golden cup, full of abominations and unclean things. And upon her forehead a name is written: Mystery.... Babylon the Great.... The Mother of Harlots and of the Abominations of the Earth.

“Seven angels come down from heaven, carrying the bowls of God’s wrath. And God will remember Babylon the Great and give her the cup of wine filled with his fierce wrath. She sits on a scarlet beast covered with names that insult God. The beast has seven heads and ten horns. The woman is dressed in purple and scarlet and adorned with gold, precious stones, and pearls. In her hand she holds a golden cup, full of abominations and unclean things. A name is written on her forehead: Mystery.... Babylon the Great.... The Mother of Harlots and of the Abominations of the Earth.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear! For the woman whom ye see is the great city, which reignest over the kings of the earth. Come forth, my people, out of her, that he have no fellowship with her sins! For her sins have reached even unto heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities!

“Anyone who has ears to hear, listen! For the woman you see is the great city that rules over the kings of the earth. Come out of her, my people, so that you share no part in her sins! For her sins have reached heaven, and God has remembered her wickedness!

“Woe, woe, the great city, Babylon, the strong city! For in one hour is thy judgment come! In one hour shalt thou be made desolate. Rejoice over her, thou heaven, and ye saints, and ye apostles; for God will judge your judgment on her. And a strong angel takes up a stone and casts it into the sea, saying: ‘Thus with a mighty fall, shall Babylon the great city be cast down, and shall be found no more at all!'

“Alas, alas, Babylon, the great and mighty city! In one hour your judgment has come! In one hour you will be destroyed. Rejoice over her, heaven, and you saints and apostles. For God will judge her for what she did to you. And a mighty angel picks up a stone and throws it into the sea, saying: ‘So Babylon, the great city, will be cast down with a mighty fall, and will never be found again!'

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear!

“Anyone who has ears to hear, listen!

“The woman who is called Babylon, the Mother of the Abominations of the Earth, wanders as a blazing brand through Metropolis. No wall and no gate bids her halt. No tie is sacred. An oath turns to mockery before her. Her smile is the last seduction. Blasphemy is her dance. She is the flame which says: ‘God is very wrath! Woe unto the city in which she shall appear!’”

“The woman called Babylon, the Mother of the Abominations of the Earth, roams Metropolis like a blazing torch. No wall or gate can stop her. No bond is sacred. She makes a mockery of every oath. Her smile is the final temptation. Her dance is blasphemy. She is the flame that says: ‘God is full of wrath! Woe to the city where she appears!’”

Freder bent across to Jan.

Freder leaned across toward Jan.

“Of whom is he speaking?” he asked, with strangely cold lips. “Is he speaking of a person? ... of a woman?...”

“Who is he talking about?” he asked, his lips strangely cold. “Is he talking about a person? ... A woman? ...”

He saw that the brow of his friend was covered with sweat.

He saw that his friend's forehead was covered in sweat.

“He is speaking of her,” said Jan, as though he were speaking with paralysed tongue.

“He is speaking of her,” said Jan, as if his tongue were paralyzed.

“Of whom?”

“Who?”

“Of her ... don’t you know her?”

“I don’t know,” said Freder, “whom you mean....”

“I don’t know,” said Freder, “who you mean....”

And his tongue, too, was heavy, and as though made of clay.

His tongue, too, felt heavy, as if it were made of clay.

Jan gave no answer. He had hunched up his shoulders as though he were bitterly cold. Bewildered and undecided, he listened to the intermediate rolling of the organ.

Jan did not answer. He hunched his shoulders as if he were bitterly cold. Confused and unsure, he listened to the organ rolling between pauses.

“Let us go!” he said tonelessly, turning around. Freder followed him. They left the cathedral. They walked along together in silence for a long time. Jan seemed to have a destination of which Freder did not know. He did not ask. He waited. He was thinking of his dream and of the monk’s words.

“Let’s go!” he said in a flat voice, turning around. Freder followed him. They left the cathedral and walked together in silence for a long time. Jan seemed to be heading somewhere, but Freder did not know where. He did not ask. He waited. He was thinking about his dream and the monk’s words.

At last Jan opened his mouth; but he did not look at Freder, he spoke into space:

At last Jan spoke. But he did not look at Freder. He spoke into space:

“You do not know who she is.... But nobody knows.... She was suddenly there.... As a fire breaks out.... No one can say who fanned the flame.... But there it is, and now everything is ablaze....”

“You don’t know who she is.... But nobody knows.... She suddenly appeared.... Like a fire breaking out.... No one can say who fanned the flame.... But the fire is there, and now everything is burning....”

“A woman...?”

“Yes. A woman. Perhaps a maid, too. I don’t know. It is inconceivable that this being would give herself to a man ... (Can you imagine the marriage of ice?) ... Or if she were to do so, then she would raise herself up from the man’s arms, bright and cool, in the awful, eternal virginity of the soulless....”

“Yes. A woman. Perhaps a virgin, too. I don’t know. I can’t imagine this being giving herself to a man ... (Can you imagine ice marrying?) ... Or if she did, she would rise from his arms, bright and cool, in the terrible, eternal virginity of the soulless....”

He raised his hand and seized his throat. He tugged something away from him which was not there. He was looking at a house which lay opposite him, on the other side of the street, with a gaze of superstitious hostility, which made his hands run cold.

He raised his hand and grabbed his throat. He pulled at something that wasn't there. He stared at a house across the street with a superstitious hostility that made his hands go cold.

“What is the matter with you?” asked Freder. There was nothing remarkable about this house, except that it lay next to Rotwang’s house.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Freder. There was nothing unusual about the house, except that it stood next to Rotwang’s house.

“Hush!” answered Jan, clasping his fingers around Freder’s wrist.

“Hush!” Jan replied, gripping Freder’s wrist.

“Are you mad?” Freder stared at his friend. “Do you think that the house can hear us across this infernal street?”

“Are you crazy?” Freder stared at his friend. “Do you think the house can hear us across this damned street?”

“It hears us!” said Jan, with an obstinate expression. “It hears us! You think it is a house just like any other? You’re wrong.... It began in this house....”

“It hears us!” said Jan, looking stubborn. “It hears us! Do you think it’s a house like any other? You’re wrong.... It began in this house....”

“What began?”

“The spirit....”

Freder felt that his throat was very dry. He cleared it vigorously. He wanted to draw his friend along with him. But he resisted him. He stood at the parapet of the street, which sheered down, steep as a gorge, and he was staring at the house opposite.

Freder felt that his throat was very dry. He cleared it vigorously. He wanted to pull his friend along, but his friend resisted. He stood at the railing beside the street, which dropped away as steeply as a gorge. He was staring at the house across the street.

“One day,” he said, “this house sent out invitations to all its neighbours. It was the craziest invitation on earth. There was nothing on the card but: ‘Come this evening at ten o’clock! House 12, 113th Street!’ One took the whole thing to be a joke. But one went. One did not wish to miss the fun. Strangely enough no one knew the house. Nobody could remember ever having entered it, or having known anything of its occupants. One turned up at ten. One was well dressed. One entered the house and found a big party. One was received by an old man, who was exceedingly polite, but who shook hands with nobody. It was an odd thing that all the people collected here seemed to be waiting for something, of which they did not know. One was well waited upon by servants, who seemed to be born mutes, and who never raised their eyes. Although the room in which we were all gathered was as large as the nave of a church, an unbearable heat prevailed, as though the floor were glowing hot, as though the walls were glowing hot, and all this in spite of the fact that, as one could see, the wide door leading to the street stood open.

“One day,” he said, “this house sent invitations to all its neighbors. It was the craziest invitation imaginable. The card said only: ‘Come this evening at ten o’clock! House 12, 113th Street!’ Everyone thought it was a joke. But everyone went. No one wanted to miss the fun. Strangely enough, no one knew the house. Nobody could remember ever entering it or knowing anything about the people who lived there. Everyone arrived at ten, dressed in their best clothes. They entered the house and found a big party. An old man welcomed them. He was extremely polite, but he shook hands with no one. Strangely, everyone there seemed to be waiting for something, though they did not know what. Servants took good care of the guests. The servants seemed to have been born unable to speak, and they never raised their eyes. The room where we had all gathered was as large as the nave of a church. Yet the heat was unbearable, as though the floor and walls were glowing hot. And all this despite the wide door to the street, which we could see was open.

“Suddenly one of the servants came up from the door to our host, with soundless step, and seemed wordlessly, with his silent presence, to give him some information. Our host inquired: ‘Are we all met?’ The servant inclined his head. ‘Then close the door.’ It was done. The servants swept aside and lined themselves up. Our host stepped into the middle of the great room. At the same moment so perfect a silence prevailed that one heard the noise of the street roaring like breakers against the walls of the house.

“Suddenly, one of the servants walked silently from the door to our host. Without speaking, he seemed to convey some information simply by standing there. Our host asked: ‘Is everyone here?’ The servant nodded. ‘Then close the door.’ The door was closed. The servants moved aside and lined up. Our host stepped into the middle of the great room. At that same moment, a perfect silence fell. The noise of the street could be heard roaring against the walls of the house like breaking waves.

“'Ladies and gentlemen,’ said the old man courteously, ‘may I have the honour of presenting my daughter to you!'

“‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the old man said politely, ‘may I have the honor of introducing my daughter to you!’

“He bowed to all sides, and then he turned his back. Everyone waited. No one moved.

“He bowed in every direction, then turned his back. Everyone waited. No one moved.

“'Well, my daughter,’ said the old man, with a gentle, but somehow horrible voice, softly clapping his hands.

“'Well, my daughter,’ said the old man, softly clapping his hands. His voice was gentle, but somehow horrible.

“Then she appeared on the stairs and came slowly down the room....”

“Then she appeared on the stairs and slowly walked down into the room....”

Jan gulped. His fingers, which still held Freder’s wrist in their clutch, gripped tighter, as though they wished to crush the bones.

Jan gulped. His fingers were still gripping Freder’s wrist. They tightened as if they wanted to crush the bones.

“Why am I telling you this?” he stammered. “Can one describe lightning? Or music? Or the fragrance of a flower? All the women in the hall suddenly blushed violently and feverishly and all the men turned pale. Nobody seemed capable of making the least movement or of saying a single word.... You know Rainer? You know his young wife? You know how they loved each other? He was standing behind her. She was sitting, and he had laid his hands on her shoulders with a gesture of passionate and protective affection. As the girl walked by them—she walked, led by the hand of the old man, with gentle ringing step, slowly through the hall—Rainer’s hands slipped from his wife’s shoulders. She looked up at him, he down at her; and in the faces of those two were burnt, like a torch, a sudden, deadly hatred....

“Why am I telling you this?” he stammered. “Can anyone describe lightning? Or music? Or the scent of a flower? All the women in the hall suddenly blushed fiercely and feverishly, and all the men turned pale. No one seemed able to move or say a single word.... You know Rainer? You know his young wife? You know how they loved each other? He was standing behind her as she sat. He had placed his hands on her shoulders in a gesture of passionate, protective affection. The old man led the girl by the hand as she walked slowly through the hall, her steps gently ringing. As she passed Rainer and his wife, his hands slipped from her shoulders. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her. A sudden, deadly hatred burned in both their faces like a torch....

“It was as though the air was burning. We breathed fire. At the same time there radiated from the girl a coldness—an unbearable, cutting coldness. The smile which hovered between her half-open lips seemed to be the unspoken closing verse of a shameless song.

“It was as if the air were burning. We breathed fire. At the same time, an unbearable, cutting cold radiated from the girl. The smile on her half-open lips seemed like the unspoken final verse of a shameless song.

“Is there some substance through the power of which emotions are destroyed, as colours are by acids? The presence of this girl was enough to annul everything which spells fidelity in the human heart, even to a point of absurdity. I had accepted the invitation of this house because Tora had told me she would go too. Now I no longer saw Tora, and I have not seen her since. And the strange thing was that, among all these motionless beings who were standing there as though benumbed, there was not one who could have hidden his feelings. Each knew how it was with the other. Each felt that he was naked and saw the nakedness of the others. Hatred, born of shame, smouldered among us. Tora was crying. I could have struck her.... Then the girl danced. No, it was no dance.... She stood, freed from the hand of the old man, on the lowest step, facing us, and she raised her arms about the width of her garment with a gentle, a seemingly never-ending movement. The slender hands touched above her hair-parting. Over her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, her knees, there ran an incessant, a barely perceptible trembling. It was no frightened trembling. It was like the trembling of the final spinal fins of a luminous, deep-sea fish. It was as though the girl were carried higher and higher by this trembling, though she did not move her feet. No dance, no scream, no cry of an animal in heat, could have so lashing an effect as the trembling of this shimmering body, which seemed, in its calm, in its solitude, to impart the waves of its incitement to every single soul in the room.

“Is there some substance that destroys emotions the way acids destroy colors? This girl’s presence alone was enough to erase every feeling of loyalty in the human heart, to the point of absurdity. I had accepted the invitation to this house because Tora had told me she would go too. Now I no longer saw Tora, and I have not seen her since. The strange thing was that none of those motionless people, standing there as if numb, could have hidden his feelings. Each knew how the others felt. Each felt naked and saw the nakedness of the others. Hatred, born of shame, smoldered among us. Tora was crying. I could have struck her.... Then the girl danced. No, it was no dance.... Freed from the old man’s hand, she stood on the lowest step, facing us. She raised her arms, spreading her garment wide, in a gentle movement that seemed never to end. Her slender hands met above the parting in her hair. A constant, barely visible trembling ran over her shoulders, breasts, hips, and knees. It was not a frightened trembling. It was like the trembling of the fins at the end of a glowing deep-sea fish’s spine. The trembling seemed to carry the girl higher and higher, though she did not move her feet. No dance, no scream, no cry of an animal in heat, could have struck us so fiercely. In its calm and solitude, her shimmering, trembling body seemed to send waves of excitement through every soul in the room.

“Then she went up the steps, stepping backwards, with tentative feet, without lowering her hands, and she disappeared into a velvet-deep darkness. The servants opened the door to the street. They lined up with backs bent.

“Then she backed up the steps, placing her feet carefully, without lowering her hands. She disappeared into a darkness as deep as velvet. The servants opened the door to the street. They lined up, bowing.

“The people still sat motionless.

“The people still sat without moving.

“'Good night, ladies and gentlemen!’ said the old man....”

Jan was silent. He took his hat from his head. He wiped his forehead.

Jan said nothing. He took off his hat. He wiped his forehead.

“A dancer,” said Freder, with cold lips, “but a spirit...?”

“A dancer,” Freder said, his lips cold, “but a spirit...?”

“Not a spirit! I will tell you another story.... A man and a woman, of fifty and forty, rich and very happy, have a son. You know him, but I will not mention any names....

“Not a spirit! I’ll tell you another story.... A man of fifty and a woman of forty are rich and very happy. They have a son. You know him, but I won’t mention any names....

“The son sees the girl. He is as though mad. He storms the house. He storms the girl’s father: ‘Let me have her! I am dying for her!’ The old man smiles, shrugs his shoulders, is silent, is exceedingly sorry, the girl is not to be attained.

“The son sees the girl. He is like a madman. He storms the house. He demands of the girl’s father: ‘Let me have her! I am dying for her!’ The old man smiles and shrugs. He says nothing. He is very sorry, but the girl cannot be had.

“The young man wants to lay hands on the old man, but he is whirled out of the house and thrown into the street, by he does not know whom. He is taken home. He falls ill and is at Death’s door. The doctors shrug their shoulders.

“The young man tries to grab the old man. But someone hurls him out of the house and into the street. He does not know who did it. He is taken home. He falls ill and is near death. The doctors shrug.

“The father, who is a proud but kindly man, and who loves his son above anything on earth, makes up his mind to visit the old man, himself. He gains entrance to the house without difficulty. He finds the old man, and with him, the girl. He says to the girl: ‘Save my son!'

“The father is a proud but kind man who loves his son more than anything in the world. He decides to visit the old man himself. He enters the house without difficulty. He finds the old man with the girl. He says to the girl: ‘Save my son!'

“The girl looks at him and says, with the most graciously inhuman of smiles: ‘You have no son....’

“The girl looks at him and smiles with a gracious, utterly inhuman smile. She says, ‘You have no son....’

“He does not understand the meaning of these words. He wants to know more. He urges the girl. She always gives the same answer. He urges the old man—he lifts his shoulders. There is a perfidious smile about his mouth....

“He does not understand what these words mean. He wants to know more. He presses the girl, but she always gives the same answer. He presses the old man, who shrugs. A treacherous smile plays on his lips....

“Suddenly the man comprehends.... He goes home. He repeats the girl’s words to his wife. She breaks down and confesses her sin—a sin which, after twenty years, has not yet died down. But she is not concerned with her own fate. She has no thought apart from her son. Shame, desertion, loneliness—all are nothing; but the son is everything.

“Suddenly the man understands.... He goes home and repeats the girl’s words to his wife. She breaks down and confesses her sin. After twenty years, that sin has not yet died down. But she is not concerned about her own fate. She thinks only of her son. Shame, abandonment, loneliness, all mean nothing to her. But her son is everything.

“She goes to the girl and falls on her knees before her: ‘I beg you, in the name of God’s mercy, save my son...!’ The girl looks at her, smiles and says: ‘You have no son....’ The woman believes that she has a lunatic before her. But the girl was right. The son, who had been a secret witness to the conversation between the husband and the mother, had ended his life....”

“She goes to the girl and falls to her knees before her: ‘I beg you, in the name of God’s mercy, save my son...!’ The girl looks at her, smiles, and says: ‘You have no son....’ The woman thinks the girl is mad. But the girl was right. The son had secretly witnessed the conversation between the husband and the mother. He had taken his own life....”

“Marinus?”

“Yes.”

“... A terrible coincidence, Jan, but still, not a spirit.”

“... A terrible coincidence, Jan, but still not a spirit.”

“Coincidence?—Not a spirit?—And what do you call it, Freder,” continued Jan, speaking quite close to Freder’s ear, “when this girl can appear in two places at once?”

“Coincidence? Not a spirit?” Jan continued, speaking close to Freder’s ear. “Then what do you call it, Freder, when this girl can appear in two places at once?”

“That’s absolute rubbish....”

“That’s total nonsense....”

“Rubbish—? It’s the truth, Freder! The girl was seen standing at the window in Rotwang’s house—and, at the same time, she was dancing her sinful dance in Yoshiwara....”

“Nonsense? It’s the truth, Freder! The girl was seen standing at the window in Rotwang’s house. At the same time, she was dancing her sinful dance in Yoshiwara....”

“That is not true—!” said Freder.

“That is not true!” said Freder.

“It is true!”

“You have seen the girl ... in Yoshiwara—?”

“You've seen the girl ... in Yoshiwara?”

“You can see her yourself, if you like....”

“What’s the girl’s name?”

“Maria....”

Freder laid his forehead in his hands. He bent double, as in the throes of an agony, which otherwise God does not permit to visit mankind.

Freder put his forehead in his hands. He doubled over as if in agony, the kind God otherwise does not allow people to suffer.

“You know the girl?” asked Jan, bending forward.

“Do you know the girl?” asked Jan, leaning forward.

“No!”

“But you love her,” said Jan, and behind these words lurked hatred, crouched to spring.

“But you love her,” said Jan. Behind his words, hatred crouched, ready to spring.

Freder took his hand and said: “Come!”

Freder took his hand and said, “Come!”

“But,” continued Freder, fixing his eyes upon Josaphat, who was sitting there quite sunken together, while the rain was growing gentler, like hushed weeping, “Slim was suddenly standing there, beside me, and he said: ‘Will you not return home, Mr. Freder?’”

“But,” Freder continued, looking at Josaphat, who sat slumped in his chair. The rain was growing gentler, like quiet weeping. “Slim suddenly stood beside me and said, ‘Won’t you go home, Mr. Freder?’”

Josaphat was silent for a long time: Freder, too, was silent. In the frame of the open door, which led out to the balcony, stood, hovering, the picture of the monster clock, on the New Tower of Babel, bathed in a white light. The large hand jerked to twelve.

Josaphat was silent for a long time. Freder was silent too. In the frame of the open balcony door hovered the image of the monster clock on the New Tower of Babel. It was bathed in white light. The large hand jerked to twelve.

Then a sound arose throughout Metropolis.

Then a sound rose throughout Metropolis.

It was an immeasurably glorious and transporting sound, as deep and rumbling as, and more powerful than any sound on earth. The voice of the ocean when it is angry, the voice of falling torrents, the voice of very close thunder-storms, would be miserably drowned in this Behemoth din. Without being shrill, it penetrated all walls, and, as long as it lasted, all things seemed to swing in it. It was omnipresent, coming from the heights and from the depths, being beautiful and horrible, being an irresistible command.

It was an immeasurably glorious and thrilling sound, as deep and rumbling as any sound on earth, but more powerful. This Behemoth din would utterly drown out the roar of an angry ocean, falling torrents, and nearby thunderstorms. Though not shrill, it penetrated every wall. For as long as it lasted, everything seemed to sway in it. It was everywhere, coming from the heights and the depths. It was beautiful and horrible, an irresistible command.

It was high above the town. It was the voice of the town.

Metropolis raised her voice. The machines of Metropolis roared: They wanted to be fed.

The eyes of Josaphat and Freder met.

Josaphat and Freder's eyes met.

“Now,” said Josaphat, “many are going down into a city of the dead, and are waiting for one who is called Maria, and whom they have found as true as gold....”

“Now,” said Josaphat, “many are going down into a city of the dead. They are waiting for Maria, whom they have found to be as true as gold....”

“Yes!” said Freder, “you are a friend, and you are quite right.... I shall go with them....”

“Yes!” said Freder. “You are a friend, and you are quite right.... I’ll go with them....”

And, for the first time this night, there was something like hope in the ring of his voice.

And for the first time that night, his voice held something like hope.