Chapter 21

Rotwang awoke; but he knew quite well he was dead. And this consciousness filled him with the deepest satisfaction. His aching body no longer had anything to do with him. That was perhaps the last remains of life. But something worried him deeply, as he raised himself up and looked around in all directions: Hel was not there.

Rotwang woke up, but he knew he was dead. The knowledge filled him with deep satisfaction. His aching body no longer had anything to do with him. Perhaps the ache was the last trace of life. But as he sat up and looked around, something worried him deeply. Hel was not there.

Hel must be found....

Hel must be found....

An existence without Hel was over at last. A second one?—No! Better than to stay dead.

A life without Hel was finally over. Another one? No! Better than staying dead.

He got up on his feet. That was very difficult. He must have been lying as a corpse for a good long time. It was night, too. A fire was raging out there, and it was all very noisy.... Shrieking of human beings....

He got to his feet. It was very difficult. He must have been lying there like a corpse for a long time. It was night, too. A fire was raging outside, and there was a lot of noise.... People were screaming....

Hm....

Hmm....

He had hoped to have been rid of them. But, apparently the Almighty Creator could not get along without them. Now—but one purpose. He just wanted his Hel. When he had found Hel, he would—he promised himself this!—never again quarrel with the father of all things, about anything at all....

He had hoped to be rid of them. But apparently, the Almighty Creator could not do without them. Now he had just one purpose. He wanted his Hel. He promised himself that once he found Hel, he would never again quarrel with the father of all things about anything at all....

So now he went.... The door leading to the street was open and hanging crookedly on its hinges. Strange. He stepped in front of the house and looked deliberatingly around. What he saw seemed to be a kind of Metropolis; but a rather insane kind of Metropolis. The houses seemed as though struck still in St. Vitus’ dance. And an uncommonly rough and impolite sort of people was ramping around a flaming bonfire, upon which a creature of rare beauty was standing, seeming, to Rotwang, to be wondrously at ease.

So now he went.... The door to the street was open, hanging crookedly on its hinges. Strange. He stepped outside and looked around thoughtfully. What he saw seemed to be a kind of Metropolis, but a rather insane one. The houses looked as though they had been frozen in the middle of St. Vitus’ dance. A remarkably rough and rude crowd was rushing around a flaming bonfire. A creature of rare beauty stood on the fire, looking, to Rotwang, wonderfully at ease.

Ah—it was that, ah yes—that, in the existence which, thank the Lord, lay far behind him, he had tried to create, to replace his lost Hel—just to make the handiwork of the Creator of the world look rather silly.... Not bad for a beginning ... hm ... but, good God, compared with Hel; what an object; what a bungle....

Ah, yes, that was what he had tried to create in the life he had left far behind, thank the Lord. He had tried to replace his lost Hel, just to make the Creator of the world look rather silly.... Not bad for a start ... hm ... but, good God, compared with Hel, what a thing, what a mess....

The shrieking individuals down there were quite right to burn the thing. Though it appeared to him to be rather a show of idiocy to destroy his test-work. But perhaps that was the custom of the people in this existence, and he certainly did not want to argue with them. He wanted to find Hel—his Hel—and nothing else....

The screaming people down there were quite right to burn the thing. Though he thought destroying his test work was rather idiotic. But perhaps that was the custom of the people in this existence, and he certainly did not want to argue with them. He wanted to find Hel, his Hel, and nothing else....

He knew exactly where to look for her. She loved the cathedral so dearly, did his pious Hel. And, if the flickering light of the bonfire did not deceive him,—for the greenish sky gave no glimmer—Hel was standing, like a frightened child in the blackness of the cathedral door, her slender hands clasped firmly upon her breast, looking more saint-like than ever.

He knew exactly where to look for her. His pious Hel loved the cathedral dearly. The greenish sky gave no light, but the bonfire flickered. If its light did not deceive him, Hel was standing in the dark cathedral doorway like a frightened child. Her slender hands were clasped tightly against her chest, and she looked more saintly than ever.

Past those who were raving around the bonfire—always politely avoiding getting in their way—Rotwang quietly groped his way to the cathedral.

Rotwang quietly felt his way past the people raving around the bonfire and toward the cathedral. He was always careful to avoid getting in their way.

Yes, it was his Hel.... She receded into the cathedral. He groped his way up the steps. How high the door looked.... Coolness and hovering incense received him.... All the saints in the pillar niches had pious and lovely faces, smiling gently, as though they rejoiced with him that he was now, at last, to find Hel, his Hel, again.

Yes, it was his Hel.... She moved away into the cathedral. He felt his way up the steps. How high the door looked.... Cool air and lingering incense greeted him.... All the saints in the niches in the pillars had devout, lovely faces. They smiled gently, as if they shared his joy that he would finally find Hel, his Hel, again.

She was standing at the foot of the belfry steps. She seemed to him to be very pale and indescribably pathetic. Through a narrow window the first pale light of the morning fell upon her hair and brow.

She stood at the bottom of the belfry steps. To him, she looked very pale and moved him beyond words. The first pale morning light fell through a narrow window onto her hair and forehead.

“Hel,” said Rotwang, his heart streaming over; he stretched out his hands. “Come to me, my Hel.... How long, how long I had to live without you!”

“Hel,” said Rotwang, his heart overflowing. He stretched out his hands. “Come to me, my Hel.... How long, how long I had to live without you!”

But she did not come. She started back from him. Her face full of horror, she started back from him.

But she did not come. She recoiled from him. Her face full of horror, she recoiled from him.

“Hel,” begged the man, “why are you afraid of me? I am no ghost, although I am dead. I had to die, to come to you. I have always, always longed for you. You have no right to leave me alone now! I want your hands! Give them to me!”

“Hel,” the man begged, “why are you afraid of me? I’m dead, but I’m not a ghost. I had to die to come to you. I’ve always, always longed for you. You have no right to leave me alone now! I want your hands! Give them to me!”

But his groping fingers snatched into space. Footsteps were hurrying up the steps of the stone-staircase which led to the belfry.

But his searching fingers grasped at empty air. Footsteps hurried up the stone stairs leading to the belfry.

Something like anger came over Rotwang’s heart. Deep in his dulled and tortured soul reposed the memory of a day upon which Hel had likewise fled from him—to another.... No, don’t think, don’t think of it.... That was a part of his first existence, and it would be quite senseless to go through the same again—in the other, and, as humanity in general hoped, better world.

Something like anger filled Rotwang’s heart. Deep in his dulled and tortured soul lay the memory of another day. That day, Hel had fled from him to another man.... No, don’t think, don’t think of it.... That belonged to his first life. It would be senseless to go through the same thing again in the other world. Humanity generally hoped that world would be better.

Why was Hel fleeing from him? He groped along after her. Climbed up stairs upon stairs. The hastening, frightened footsteps remained constantly before him. And the higher the woman before him fled, the more wildly did his heart beat in this mighty ascent, the redder did Rotwang’s eyes become filled with blood, the more furiously did his anger boil up within him. She should not run away from him—she should not! If only he could catch her by the hand he would never, never let her go again! He would forge a ring about her wrist with his metal hand—and then she should never try to escape him again ... to another!

Why was Hel running away from him? He groped his way after her, climbing flight after flight of stairs. Her hurried, frightened footsteps were always ahead of him. The higher she fled, the more wildly his heart beat as he climbed. Rotwang’s eyes grew redder with blood, and his anger boiled more fiercely within him. She must not run away from him. She must not! If only he could catch her by the hand, he would never, never let her go again! He would forge a ring around her wrist with his metal hand. Then she would never try to escape him again ... to another!

They had both reached the belfry. They raced along under the bells. He blocked the way to the stairs. He laughed, sadly and evilly.

They had both reached the bell tower. They raced beneath the bells. He blocked the way to the stairs. He laughed sadly and wickedly.

“Hel, my Hel, you can no longer escape me!”

“Hel, my Hel, you can't escape me anymore!”

She made a swift, despairing leap, and hung on the rope of the bell which was called Saint Michael. Saint Michael raised his ore-voice, but it sounded as though broken, complaining wildly. Rotwang’s laughter mingled with the sound of the bell. His metal arm, the marvellous achievement of a genius, stretched, like the phantom arm of a skeleton, far out on the sleeve of his coat, and snatched at the bell-rope.

She leaped in sudden desperation and grabbed the rope of the bell called Saint Michael. Saint Michael raised its metallic voice, but it sounded broken, crying out wildly. Rotwang’s laughter mingled with the sound of the bell. His metal arm was the marvelous achievement of a genius. It stretched far out from his coat sleeve, like the phantom arm of a skeleton, and snatched at the bell rope.

“Hel, my Hel, you can no longer escape me!”

“Hel, my Hel, you can’t escape me anymore!”

The girl staggered back against the breastwork. She looked around. She was trembling like a bird. She could not go down the stairs. Neither could she go any higher. She was trapped. She saw Rotwang’s eyes and saw his hands. And, without hesitation, without reflection, with a ferocity which swept a blaze of scarlet across the pallor of her face, she swung herself out of the belfry window, to hang upon the steel cord of the lightning conductor.

The girl staggered back against the parapet. She looked around, trembling like a bird. She could not go down the stairs. She could not go any higher, either. She was trapped. She saw Rotwang’s eyes and his hands. Without hesitating or stopping to think, she swung herself out of the belfry window. Her face, pale a moment before, flushed scarlet with ferocity as she grabbed the lightning conductor’s steel cable and hung from it.

“Freder—!!” she screamed. “Help me—!!”

“Freder!” she screamed. “Help me!”

Below—far below, near the flaming pyre, lay a trampled creature, his forehead in the dust. But the scream from above smote him so unexpectedly that he shot up, as if under the lash, he sought and he saw—

Far below, near the blazing funeral pyre, a trampled creature lay with his forehead in the dust. But the scream from above struck him so unexpectedly that he sprang up as if whipped. He looked and saw...

And all those who had been dancing in wild rings around the bonfire of the witch saw, as he—stiffened—petrified: The girl who hung, swallowlike, clinging to the tower of the cathedral, with Rotwang’s hands stretching out towards her.

All those who had been dancing in wild circles around the witch’s bonfire saw what he saw. Like him, they froze, petrified. The girl was clinging to the cathedral tower like a swallow, with Rotwang’s hands reaching toward her.

And they all heard how, in the shouted answer: “I am coming, Maria, I am coming—!” there cried out all the relief and all the despair which can fill the heart of a man to whom Heaven and Hell are equally near.

And they all heard his shouted answer: “I am coming, Maria, I am coming!” In that cry was all the relief and despair that can fill a man's heart when Heaven and Hell are equally near.