By Hanns Heinz Ewers 1911
Translated by Joe E. Bandel 2009
Copyright 2009 by Joe E. Bandel Protected under United States Copyright Law as a derivative work of a foreign Author originally published prior to 1923
“That worthy Gentleman there,” he continued. “has in his time advanced medical knowledge many miles. You know how children come into the world Alma, and you also know how they are created. But you don’t know the secret mysteries of life that this benefactor of humanity has discovered! He knows how to create children without the mother and father ever seeing each other!
The noble prince would be at peace in his dungeon or at rest in his fresh grave knowing that you, dear girl, with the good help of this old gentleman and under the expert care of this good doctor Petersen will become the mother of his child.”
Alma looked across over at the Privy Councillor. She didn’t like this sudden shift, this weird transformation of turning a handsome well born prince into an old and very ugly professor. It didn’t appeal to her at all.
Frank Braun noticed as well and began a new line of persuasion, trying to get her to think of something else.
“Naturally the prince’s child, Anna, your child, must remain hidden after it comes into this world. He must remain hidden until he is fully grown to protect him from the persecution and intrigue of his evil family. Naturally he would be a prince, just like his father.”
“My child would be a prince?” She whispered.
“Yes, of course,” he confirmed. “Or maybe a princess. That is something we can not know. It will inherit the castle, the grounds and several millions in money. But you will not be permitted to force yourself on him and compromise everything.”
That did it. Fat tears ran down her cheeks. She was already in her role feeling the grief and sorrow of having to give up her beloved child. She was a prostitute, but her child would be a prince! She couldn’t be in his life. She would have to remain quiet, suffer and endure everything- for her child. It would never know who it’s mother was.
A heavy sob seized her, shook her entire body. She threw herself over the table, buried her head in her arms and wept bitterly.
Tenderly, almost lovingly he laid his hand on her neck softly stroking her wild loose hair. He could taste the sugar water in the lemonade that he had mixed as well and took her very seriously in this moment.
“Magdalena,” he whispered to her. “Magdalena-”
She righted herself, stuck her hand out to him.
“I promise you that I will never press myself on him. He will never hear me or see me, but- but-“
“What is it girl?” He asked softly.
She grabbed his arm, fell onto her knees in front of him and buried her head in his lap.
“Only once- only once!” She cried. “Can’t I see him just one time? From a distance, perhaps out of a window?”
“Will you finish this trashy comedy,” the Privy Councillor threw at him.
Frank Braun looked wildly at him and knew his uncle was right but something in his blood rebelled and he hissed back:
“Quiet you old fool! Don’t you see how beautiful this is?”
He bent back down over the prostitute, “Yes, girl. You shall see him, your young prince. I will take you along when he leads his soldiers for the first time, or to the theater when he is sitting above in the box. You can see him then.”
She didn’t answer, but she squeezed his hand and tears mixed in with her kisses. Then he slowly straightened her up, carefully set her back in the chair and gave her some more to drink. It was a large glass half full of cognac.
“Will you do it?” He asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I will. What should I do?”
He reflected a moment, “First- first- we will draw up a little contract.”
He turned to the assistant doctor.
“Do you have some paper, doctor? And a quill? Good! Then you can write. Write everything twice, if you please.”
He dictated, said that the undersigned of their own free will would agree to be at the disposal of his Excellency ten Brinken for the purpose of this experiment. She would solemnly promise to faithfully obey all the orders of this gentleman. And further, that after the birth of the child she would completely renounce all claim to it.
In return his Excellency would immediately place fifteen thousand marks into a savings account in the name of the undersigned and turn this account over to her upon the delivery of the child. He would further provide for her maintenance and support up to that time and carry all costs as well as giving her a monthly allowance of one hundred Marks to use as she pleased.
He took the paper and read it out loud one time.
“It doesn’t say anything about the prince!” She said.
“Naturally it doesn’t,” he declared. “That must remain highly secret.”
She could see that, but there was still something that bothered her.
“Why-“ she asked. “Why did you pick me? Any woman would gladly do what she could for the poor prince.”
He hesitated. This question was a little unexpected but he found an answer.
“Well, you know,” he began. “it is like this- The prince’s childhood sweetheart was a very beautiful Duchess. He loved her with all his heart as only a real prince can love and she loved the handsome young noble just as much. But she died.”
“How did she die?” Alma asked.
“She died of- of the measles. The prince’s beloved had golden red hair just like yours. She looked exactly like you. The prince’s last wish is that the mother of his child look like the beloved of his youth. He gave us her picture and described her to us exactly. We searched all over Europe and never found the right one- until tonight when we saw you.”
She was flattered and laughed. “Do I really look like the beautiful Duchess?”
He cried, “You could have been sisters! By the way, can we take your photograph? It would make the prince very happy to see your picture!”
He handed the writing quill over to her, “Now sign, child!”
She took the paper and wrote “Al-“ Then she stopped.
“There is a fat hair in the quill.”
She took a napkin and cleaned the quill with it.
“Damn,” murmured Frank Braun. “It occurs to me that she is not yet an adult. Legally we must also have her father’s signature. Oh well, this will do for the contract. Just write!
By the way, what is your father’s name?”
She said, “My father is Master Baker Raune in Halberstadt.”
Then she wrote her father’s name in clumsy slanting letters. Frank Braun took the paper out of her hand and looked at it. He let it fall and picked it up again staring at it.
“By all that’s Holy,” he cried out loud. “That- that is-“
“What’s the matter now, Sir doctor?” asked the assistant doctor.
He handed the contract over to him, “There- there, look at the signature.”
Dr. Petersen looked at the sheet of paper.
“So,” he asked puzzled. “I don’t see anything remarkable about it.”
“No, no. Naturally not, you wouldn’t,” cried Frank Braun. “Give the contract to the Privy Councillor. Now read that, uncle Jakob!”
The professor examined the signature. The girl had forgotten to finish writing her first name. “Al Raune” was written on the paper.
“Of all things. A remarkable coincidence,” said the professor.
He folded both sheets carefully together and stuck them in his breast pocket.
But his nephew cried, “A coincidence? Well it might be a coincidence. Everything that is remarkable and mysterious is just a coincidence to you!”
He rang for the waiter.
“Wine, wine,” he cried. “Give me something to drink. Alma Raune, Al Raune, if you will.”
He sat down at the table and leaned over toward the Privy Councillor.
