de-en  Stefan Zweig: Schachnovelle - Kapitel 2
He had pointed to the deckchair next to him. With pleasure I followed his invitation. We were without neighbours. Dr. B. took his reading glasses off, placed them beside him and began: "It was so kind of you to say that you, as a Viennese, remembered my family's name. But I assume you will hardly have heard about the lawyer's office led jointly by me and my father and later by me alone, for we did not have any cases which attracted the media's attention, and avoided new clients on principle. In fact, we actually did not have a real lawyer's office any longer, but limited ourselves solely to legal consultation and especially property management of the large monasteries which my father as a former delegate of the Clerical Party felt close to. Besides we were entrusted with - one may probably talk about that now, since the monarchy is history - the management of the funds of some of the members of the imperial family. These connections to the court and the clergy - my uncle was the emperor's personal physician, another abbot in Seitenstetten - reached back two generations; we only had to maintain them, and it was a tacit, I would say silent activity, which was assigned to us by this inherited trust, actually not requiring much more than the strictest discretion and reliability, two qualities which my deceased father possessed to the highest degree; he has actually succeeded, through his prudence, in preserving considerable assets for his clients, both in the years of inflation and in those of the revolution. When Hitler came to power in Germany and began to plunder the property of the church and the monasteries, several negotiations and transactions went through our hands, even from across the border, in order to save at least the mobile possessions from confiscation, and we both knew more about certain secret political negotiations of the curia and the imperial house than the public will ever know. But it was the inconspicuousness of our office - we did not even have a sign on the door - as well as the caution that we both pointedly shunned all monarchist circles, offered the safest protection against unbidden inquiries. Indeed, no agency in Austria has ever surmised in all these years that the clandestine couriers of the imperial court always picked up or deposited their most important mail right in our inconspicuous office on the fourth floor.

The National Socialist had now, long before they armed their armies to fight against the world, begun to organize another equally dangerous and trained army in all neighbouring countries, the legion of the disadvantaged, the disregarded, the mortified. In every department, in every business, their so-called 'cells' had lodged themselves; everywhere, even up to the private rooms of Dollfuß and Schuschnigg their listening posts and spies were to be found. They had even in our inconspicuous law office, as I unfortunately learned too late, their agent. He was, of course, nothing but a despicable and talentless clerk, whom I had hired on the recommendation of a priest solely to give the firm the appearance of a regular business to the outside world; in fact, we used him for nothing more than unimportant errands, had him answer the telephone and sort the files, that is, those files that were utterly irrelevant and innocuous. He was of course never allowed to open the mail, I wrote all important letters single-handedly on the type-writer without making copies, I myself took every relevant document home with me and scheduled clandestine talks solely to take place in the priory of the monastery or in my uncle's consulting room. Thanks to these precautionary methods our "listening post" did not find out anything about the relevant processes; but due to an unfortunate coincidence this ambitious and vain chap must have noticed that he was distrusted and that all kinds of interesting things happened behind his back. Perhaps once, when I was absent, one of the couriers had carelessly spoken of 'His Majesty' instead of, as agreed,'Baron Fern', or the blackguard must have opened letters illicitly - anyhow - before I could become suspicious - he obtained orders from Munich or Berlin to monitor us. Only much later, long after I was incarcerated, I remembered that his initial nonchalance in the service had changed to sudden zealous behavior in the last few months and he had almost intrusively offered several times to bring my correspondence to the post office. I too can also not absolve myself from a certain carelessness, but after all, haven't even the greatest diplomats and members of the military been insidiously tricked by Hitler's machinations? How precisely and affectionately the Gestapo had long since turned their attention to me, became very obvious when on the very same evening, on which Schuschnigg announced his abdication, and one day before Hitler moved into Vienna, I had already been arrested by SS men. Luckily I had been able to still burn the most important papers, when I just heard Schuschnigg's farewell speech, and I sent the rest of the documents with the crucial receipts for the monasteries' assets and the ones for two archdukes hidden in a clothes basked in a clothes basket to my uncle by my old, reliable housekeeper, really at the very last minute, before the thugs broke into my door." Dr B. broke off to light a cigar. In the flaring light I noticed a nervous twitch around the right corner of his mouth, which had already attracted my attention before, and as could be noticed, was repeated every few minutes. It was only a fleeting movement, hardly more than a hint, but it lent his whole face a strange unease.

"You probably assume now that I will tell you now about the concentration camp, to which all of those who kept faith with our old Austria were certainly transfered to, about the humilations, agonies, tortures that I suffered there. But none of this happened. I came into a different category. I was not driven to those unfortunates on whom one gave vent to long-kept resentments using physical and psychological humiliations, but was assigned to that other quite small group whom the National Socialists hoped to extort either money or important information from. As such, my humble person was of course completely irrevelant for the Gestapo. But they must have learned that we were the straw men, the custodians and confidants of their bitterest opponents, and what they hoped to pry out of me was incriminating material; material against the monasteries, to whom they wanted to prove the transfer of assets, material against the imperial family and all those in Austria who devotedly supported the monarchy. They assumed – and indeed not incorrectly – that of those funds which had gone through our hands, substantial holdings were still hidden, inaccessible to their excessive greed. For that reason they fetched me immediately on the first day in order to force these secrets out of me with their tried and true methods. People in my category, from whom important papers or money were to be squeezed out, therefore were not deported to concentration camps, but were set aside for special treatment. They perhaps remember that our emperor and on the other hand Baron Rothschild, whose relatives they hoped to extort millions from, were by no means put into prison camps behind barbed wire, but with seeming favor were transferred to a hotel, the Hotel Metropole, where everyone received a separate room, and which was at the same time the headquarters of the Gestapo. To an insignificant man like me, this honour was also given.

One's own room in a hotel - doesn't this sound quite decent? But you can believe me that it was by no means a more humane, but rather a shrewder method directed toward us, when instead of stuffing twenty of us 'prominent people' into a barrack, they put us into a reasonably heated and separate hotel room. Because the pressure with which they wanted to extract the necessary 'material' from us should work in a more subtle manner than than by crude corporal punishment or physical torture: through the most cunning isolation you can imagine. Nobody hurt us, one simply put us into absolute nothingness, for you know nothing on earth creates as much pressure on the human soul than nothingness. By locking each one of us up in an absolute vaccum, in a room that was hermetically sealed from the outside world, such a pressue, instead of being created from the outside through beatings and cold was to be created within ourselves, something which would finally force our closed lips open. At first sight the room assigned to me did not really look uncomfortable. There was a door, a bed, a chair, a washbasin, a barred window. But the door was kept closed day and night, no book, no newspaper, no piece of paper, no pencil was permitted on the table, the window faced a fire wall; all around myself and even at my own body, absolute nothingness had been created. Every object had been taken away from me, the clock, so that I would not know the time, the pencil, so that I could not write, the knife, so that I could not slit my wrists; even the smallest means of numbing my awareness, like a cigarette, was denied me. Apart from the guard, who was not allowed to speak a word or answer a question, I never saw a human face, I never heard a human voice; Eye and ear, all of my senses, from morning to night and from night until morning, were deprived of the slightest nourishment, one was alone with oneself, with one's body and the four or five mute objects, table, bed, window, washbasin, irretrievably alone; one lives like a diver under a glass bell in the black ocean of silence and indeed, like a diver who already senses that the rope that connects one to the outside world is severed and can never be retrieved from the silent depths. There was nothing for me to do, nothing to listen to, nothing to see, all around me and permanently nothingness surrounded me, the complete emptiness without space and time. You walked up and down, and your thoughts followed suit, up and down, again and again. But even thoughts, as insubstantial as they appear, need a point of support, otherwise they begin to gyrate and revolve around themselves senselessly. Even they do not tolerate nothingness. You were waiting for something, from morning till evening, and nothing happened. You were waiting again and again. Nothing happened. You waited, waited, waited, you thought, you thought, you thought, until your temples hurt. Nothing happened. You stayed alone. Alone. Alone.

The period I lived outside time, outside the world, lasted for fourteen days. If a war had broken out at that time, I would not have heard about it. My world consisted of only a table, door, bed, washbasin, chair, window and wall, and I always stared at the same wallpaper on the same wall. Every line of its jagged pattern trenched like an iron gouge into the innermost fold of my brain, as often as I stared at it. Then finally the questioning started. You were suddenly called away, without rightly knowing whether it is was day or night. You were called up and led through a couple of hallways, you did not know where to; then, you waited somewhere without knowing where, and you suddenly stood in front of a table around which a couple of uniformed people were sitting. On the table lay a pile of papers, the files about which one did not know what they contained; and then the questions began, the true and the false, the clear and the tricky, the cover questions and the loaded questions, and while one was answering, strange, angry fingers were flipping through the papers about which one did not know what they contained, and strange, angry fingers were writing something in a record and one did not know what they were writing. But the most dreadful thing about this interrogation for me was that I could never guess and figure out what the Gestapo people in fact knew of the files in my office and what they wanted to get out of me in the first place. As I have already told you, I had sent the really compromising papers in the nick of time to my uncle via the housekeeper. But had he received them? Hadn't he received them? And how much had that chancery clerk revealed? How many of the letters had they intercepted meanwhile, how many had they perhaps already extorted from an inept clergyman in the German monasteries that we represented. And they questioned me and questioned me. Which papers I bought for that monastery, with which banks I corresponded, whether I know a Mr. so-and-so or not, whether I received letters from Switzerland and from Steenookerzeel? And since I could never work out how much they had already found out, every answer became a tremendous responsibility. If I admitted something they had not known, then I might be sending someone unnecessarily to his doom. If I denied too much, I would damnify myself.

But the hearing was not yet the worst. The worst thing was returning to my nothingness after the hearing, to the same room with the same table, the same bed, the same washing bowl, the same wallpaper. Then, barely alone with myself, I tried to reconstruct what I should have answered the smartest and what I would have to say the next time in order to deflect again the suspicion that I perhaps evoked with a rash comment. I considered, I thought through, I searched, I reviewed my own statements for every word that I had said to the investigating judge, I recapitulated every question that was asked, every answer that I had given, I tried to consider what they might have entered into the minutes about them, and yet I knew that I would never be able to guess and know what this was. But these thoughts, once kick-started in empty space, did not stop whirling in my head, never stopped going round and round in my head, again and again anew, in always different combinations, and that continued, even into sleep - , after every interrogation by the Gestapo my own thoughts took just as relentlessly over the role of torture by questioning and inquiring and tormenting me, and perhaps even more cruelly, because those interrogations ended after just after one hour, and mine never, thanks to the perfidious torture of this loneliness. And around me there was nothing but the table, the wardrobe, the bed, the wallpaper, the window, no diversion, no book, no newspaper, no unfamiliar face, no pencil to take notes, no match to play with, nothing, nothing, nothing. Only now I realized how devilishly consequential, how psychologically murderously the hotel room's working principle had been conceived. In the concentration camp, perhaps you would have carried stones in a cart until your hands bled and your feet froze in your shoes. You would have been packed together with two dozen people in the stench and the cold. But you would have seen faces, you would have been able to gaze at a field, a cart, a tree, a stone, anything, while here the sameness is always around you, always the sameness, the dreadful sameness. Here there was nothing to divert me from my thought, my delusions, my sickly recurring thoughts. And it was exactly what they wanted, I was to choke and choke on my thoughts till they suffocated me and I could do nothing but finally spit out everything I knew, to reveal, reveal everything they wanted to know, to finally hand over the documents and the people. Bit by bit I sensed how my nerves were beginning to give way under this dreadful pressure of nothingness, and, aware of the danger, I tensed up to the point of shredding my nerves to find or invent some diversion. To occupy myself I tried to recite and reconstruct everything that I had ever learned by heart: the folk songs and the rhymes of childhood, the Homer of the gymnasium, the paragraphs of the civil law book. Then I tried to do sums, to add arbitrary numbers, to divide, but being in nothingness my memory did not have the strength to hang on to anything. I couldn't focus on anything. The same thought kept thrusting into my mind, flickering there between other thoughts: What do they know? What did I say yesterday, what do I need to say next time?

This situation, which in fact is indescribable, lasted four months. Well - four months, that‘s easy to write: only one dozen letters! That is easy to say: four months four syllables. In a quarter of a second the lips could articulate such a sound: four months! But no one can describe, can measure, can visualize, not to another, not to oneself, how long a time in a spaceless and timeless dimension lasts, and no one can explain to anyone how it tears you to pieces and destroys you, this nothingness and nothingness and nothingness around you, always only this table and bed and washbasin and wallpaper, and always the silence, always the same guard who, without looking at you, shoves the food inside the room, always the same thoughts that circle in the nothingness around the nothingness until you become mad. I became worriedly aware of small signs that my brain was getting messed-up. At the beginning I had still been clear-headed during the interrogations, I had tesified calmy and prudently; this kind of double thinking, what I should say and what I shouldn't had still worked. Now I could articulate even the most simple sentences only but stammeringly, for while I testified, I hypnotisedly stared at the pen, which recordingly moved over the paper, as if I wanted to chase my own words. I felt my strength declining, I felt the moment drawing nearer and nearer when I, to save myslf, would say everything I knew, and perhaps even more, in which, to escape the choking of this nothingness, I would betray twelve people and their secrets without achieving anything more but a breath's rest for myself.. One evening I had really almost reached that point: when the jailer, at a moment of my choking, happened to bring me my food, I suddenly yelled after him: "Lead me to the interrogation! I want to tell it all! I want to testify to everything I know! I want to tell you where the documents are, where you will find the money! I will tell you everything, everything!" Luckily he did not hear me anymore. Perhaps he did not want to hear me either.

In this extreme adversity, something unexpected happened, something that offered rescue, rescue at least for a certain time. It was the end of July, a dark, overcast, rainy day; I remember this detail so exactly because the rain drummed on the window panes of the corridor through which I was taken to the interrogation. I had to wait in the examining magistrate's chambers.. One always had to wait at each interrogation: making one wait was also part of their technique. Firstly your nerves were exposed raw by being called up, by suddenly being taken from your cell in the middle of the night, and then, having already prepared your mind and will for the coming interrogation and strengthened yourself to resist, they left you to wait, pointed and futile waiting, one hour, two hours, three hours, before being interrogated, so as to tire your body and wear down your soul. And I was kept waiting for a particularly long time on this Thursday, the 27th. July; two long hours standing, waiting in the ante-room; I remember this date so exactly for one particular reason; there was a calendar on the wall in this ante-room, where of course I was not permitted to sit down and spent two hours kicking my heels, and I cannot explain to you how in my hunger for printed matter, for the written word. I stared and stared at this number, these few words on the wall: 'July 27'; they literally burnt themselves into my brain. And then I waited again, and waited and stared at the door, when it would finally open, at the same time considering what the inquisitors could ask me this time, yet knowing that they would ask me something completely different to that for which I had prepared myself. But despite all this, the agony of waiting and standing was, at the same time, a blessing, a pleasure, because this room was at least a different room than mine, slightly larger and with two windows instead of one, and without the bed and without the washbasin and without the particular crack on the window sill that I looked had at a million times. The door was painted differently, a different armchair stood against the wall, and on the left were a filing cabinet with files as well as a wardrobe with hooks on which three or four wet military coats, the coats of my torturers, hung. I thus had something new, something different to look at, finally something different for my starving eyes, and they clawed greedily at every detail. I observed every wrinkle on these coats, I noticed, for example, a drop hanging from one of the wet collars, and as ridiculous as it may sound to you, I waited with an absurd excitement to see whether this drop would eventually want to run off along the wrinkle, or whether it would yet resist gravity and remain stuck longer - yes, I stared and stared breathlessly for minutes at this drop as if my life depended on it. Then, when it finally rolled down, I counted the buttons on the coats again, eight on one jacket, eight on the other, ten on the third, then I compared the lapels once more; my starved eyes touched all these ridiculous, unimportant little things, swirling round them, encompassing everything with a craving that I am unable to describe. And suddenly my gaze remained rigidly attached to something. I had discovered that the side pocket on one of the coats was bulging a little bit. I approached closer and believed I recognized what was contained in this somewhat bulging pocket from its rectangular shape: a book! My knees started shaking: a BOOK! For four months I had not had a book in my hand, and even the mere idea of a book in which one could see words strung together, lines and pages, a book from which one could read, follow, receive new, strange, distracting thoughts into one's brain had somewhat of an intoxicating and, at the same time, a numbing quality. Hypnotized, my eyes stared at the little bulge that formed by the book inside the pocket, my eyes were smolderingly staring at this inconspicuous spot as if they wanted to burn a hole in the coat. Finally, I could not restrain my greed; involuntarily, I moved closer. Just the thought of being able to touch a book through the fabric with my hands made my nerves glow up to my nails. Almost without knowing it, I was getting closer and closer. Luckily the warden did not pay attention to my obviously strange behavior; perhaps it also seemed only natural to him that a man, after two hours of standing upright, wanted to lean against the wall a little bit. Finally I stood quite close to the coat and had intentionally put my hands behind my back so that they could inconspicuously touch the coat. I touched the cloth and actually did feel something rectangular through the fabric, something that was flexible and softly crackling - a book! A book! And like a flash the thought came to me: steal the book! Maybe it will work, and you can hide it in your cell and then read, read, read, finally read again! The thought, which had barely penetrated me, acted like a strong poison; suddenly I heard roaring in my ears and my heart was pounding, my hands became ice-cold and uncontrollable. But after the first numbing, I edged myself quietly and cunningly even closer to the coat, always fixated on the guard with my hands hidden behind my back and pushed the book higher and higher out of the pocket from below. And then: a grip, a slight, careful pull and suddenly I had the small, not very extensive book in my hand. Only now was I afraid of what I was doing. But I couldn't go back. but where to put it? I pushed the volume behind my back underneath my pants to the spot where the belt held it and from there gradually over to my hip so that I could hold it in military fashion by the trouser seam with my hand when walking. Now it was time for the first test. I stepped away from the wardrobe, one step, two steps, three steps. It worked. It was possible to hold the book while walking if I only pressed my hand firmly to the belt.

Then came the interrogation. It required more effort than ever on my part, for in fact, while I was answering, I concentrated all my energy, not on my statements, but above all on keeping the book inconspicuous. Fortunately, this time the interrogation was short, and I brought the book safely into my room - I don't want to delay you with all the details because once it slipped dangerously from my trousers in the middle of the hall, and I had to simulate a severe coughing fit in order to bend down and put it back intact under my belt. But what a second for that, when I stepped back into my hell, finally alone and yet no longer alone!

Now you probably think I would have immediately seized the book, leafed through it, read it. Not at all! First I wanted to enjoy the anticipation of having a book, artificially prolong the wonderfully nerve tingling pleasure of imagining what kind of book this stolen one should be: above all it should have very fine print, contain many, many letters and lots and lots of thin pages so that I could spend a longer time reading. And then I wished it would be a work that was mentally demanding, nothing easy, nothing light, but something that could be learnt, learnt by heart, poetry, and best of all - what a foolhardy dream! – Goethe or Homer. But finally I could no longer restrain my greed, my curiosity. Stretched out on the bed so that the guard, if he were to suddenly open the door, could not catch me, trembling, I pulled out the book out from under my belt.

The first glance was a disappointment and even a kind of embittered anger. This book, captured at such enormous danger, saved with such fervid expectation, was nothing but a review of chess, a collection of one hundred fifty master matches. Had I not been bolted and locked, I would have thrown the book through an open window in my initial rage, for what was I supposed to, what was I able to do with this nonsense? As a boy in high school, like most other boys, out of boredom, I tried to play a game of chess now and then. ... But what should I do with all this theoretical stuff? You can't play chess without a partner and certainly not without chess pieces, without a board. Sullenly, I leafed through the pages in order to perhaps still discover something readable, an introduction, a set of instructions. But I found nothing but the bare, square diagrams of the individual chess matches and under them symbols that were initially unintelligible to me: a2-a3, S f1-g3 and so forth. It all seemed to me like some sort of Algebra, to which I could find no key. Gradually at first, I deciphered that the letters a, b and c were used for the longitudinal rows, the numbers 1 to 8 were used for the traverse rows and together they determined the respective position of each individual chess piece. Thus, the purely graphical diagrams had a language after all. Perhaps, i thought, I could design a kind of chessboard in my cell for me and then try to re-enact these matches. It seemed like a sign of God to me that my bed sheet happened to be roughly checkered. Correctly folded, it could be laid in such a way at the end to get sixty-four fields together. So first I hid the book under the mattress and just tore out the first page. Then I began to make models of the chess pieces – king, queen and so on – from small bread crumbs that I stinted myself for that purpose, of course in a ridiculously imperfect way. After endless attempts, I was finally able to undertake re-enacting the position depicted in the chess book on the checkered bedsheet. But when I tried to re-enact a complete game, this failed at first completely with my ridiculous crumb chessmen, half of which I had colored darker with dust to allow for a distinction. I got up mixed incessantly during the first few day; five times, ten times, twenty times I had to re-start this one game again and again. But who on earth had available as much unused and useless time as I, the slave of nothingness, who had so much immense greed and patience at his disposal? After six days I was already completing the match flawlessly. After a further eight days I did not even need the crumbs on the bedsheet any longer in order to reify for myself the position from the chess book, and after a further eight days the plaid bedsheet became expendable. Automatically, the initially abstract characters of the book – a1,a2, c7 c8 – changed behind my forehead into visual, vivid positions. The adjustment was completely successful: I had projected the chessboard with its chess pieces within my brain and, thanks to the mere notation, also reviewed the corresponding position, just like a trained musician for whom it suffices to simply look at the score to hear all voices and their harmony. After another fortnight, I was effortlessly able to re-enact every game of the book by heart - or as the technical term says: "blind"; only now did I begin to understand which immeasurable blessing my bold theft had won for me. For suddenly I had a task - a futile, an aimless one, so to speak, yet one which destoyed nothingness for me, with the one hundred and fifty tournament games I owned a wonderful weapon against the stifling monotony of space and time. In order to preserve unabated the appeal for me of the new pursuit, from then on I precisely organized every day for myself: two matches in the morning, two matches in the afternoon, and then another quick repetition in the evening. As a result, my day was filled that otherwise extended formlessly like jelly. I was busy without tiring myself, for the chess match had the wonderful virtue of not slackening the brain by banning the mental energies to a narrowly limited field even with the most exhausting performance of thought, but rather sharpening its agility and resilience. Gradually, after what was at first simply a mechanical re-enactment of these championship games, a delightful, artistic understanding began to awake in me. I learned to understand the intricacies, the treacheries and acuities in the attack and in the defense. I grasped the technique of planning ahead, combining, riposting and soon recognized the personal trait of every single chess master in his individual behavior as unfailingly as one detects a poet's verse from a few lines. What had begun as just a time-filling occupation became enjoyment, and the figures of the great chess strategists, like Aljechin, Lasker, Bogoljubow, Tartakower, entered my solitude as beloved comrades. Endless diversion daily enlivened the silent cell, and it was precisely this, the regularity of my exercises, that restored my by now shaken self-assurance to my assurance to my capacity for thought. I felt my brain refreshed and even newly sharpened, so to speak. The fact that my thinking had become clearer and more precise proved itself during the interrogations. Unconsciously, I had perfected myself on the chessboard in the defense against false threats and covert tricks. From that point on, I no longer gave myself away in the interrogations, and it even seemed to me that the Gestapo people gradually began to regard me with a certain respect. Perhaps they secretly asked themselves, since they saw everyone else break down, from which secret sources I alone summoned up the power of such steadfast resistance.

This time of happiness when I systematically re-enacted this book's one hundred and fifty games lasted about two and a half to three months. Then I unexpectedly came to a dead end. Suddenly I was standing before nothing. For as soon as I had re-enacted every single game twenty or thirty times, it lost its charm of novelty, of surprise, its formerly so exciting, so inspiring power was exhausted. What point was there to repeat chess matches that I knew by heart, move by move, again and again. I had barely made the first opening move when its process automatically uncoupled itself inside me so to speak; there was no longer any surprise, any tension, any problems. In order to keep myself busy, to create the effort and diversion that was already becoming indispensable to me, I actually would have needed another book with different games. But since this was completely impossible, there was only one way on this strange straying path: I had to invent new games instead of the old ones. I had to try to play by myself or more precisely against myself.

Now, I do not know to what extent you have thought about the intellectual setting in this game of games. But even the most cursory reflection might be enough to make it clear that in chess as a pure mental game that is detached from chance, to want to play against oneself logically amounts to an absurdity. Essentially, the attraction of chess is uniquely based on the fact that its strategy develops differently in two different brains, that in this mental war Black does not know the particular maneuvers of White and is constantly seeking to guess and thwart, while for his part White in turn strives to overtake and parry the secret intentions of Black. Now if Black and White formed one and the same person, the absurd situation would result that one and the same brain would know and yet not know something at the same time, that functioning as Partner White it could, on command, completely forget what it had wanted and intended a minute beforehand as partner Black. Such a double thought process actually assumes a complete division of awareness, a random fading-in and fading-out ability of the brain function, as with a mechanical device. Wanting to play against oneself thus represents in chess such a paradox as jumping over one's own shadow. Well, to make a long story short, I tried this impossibility, this absurdity in my desperation for months. But I had no choice other than this absurdity, if I was not to degenerate into utter madness or a complete mental marasmus. Because of this terrible situation, I found myself compelled to at least try this mental split into a black and a white ego in order to not be crushed by the gruesome nothingness within myself." Dr.B. leaned back in his reclining chair and closed his eyes for a minute. It was as if he wanted to forcibly suppress a disturbing memory. Again this strange twitch, that he was unable to control moved around the left corner of his mouth. Then he lifted himself up a little higher in his armchair.

"Well - up to this point I hope I have explained everything to you quite clearly. But unfortunately I am not sure that I can illustrate the rest to you in such a clear manner. For this new activity requires such an unconditional focusing of the brain that every simultaneous self-control is impossible. I already pointed out to you that in my opinion it is quite absurd to want to play a game of chess against yourself; but even this absurdity would be at least minimally feasible with a real chess board in front of you because the chess board would allow, by its very existence a certain distance, a material exterritorialism. With a real chess board, with real chess pieces, you can use pauses for reflection, you can physically place yourself onto one side now, then on the other side of the board and thus closely observe the situation from the black player's viewpoint, then from the white player's viewpoint. But compelled, as I was, to project these conflicts against myself or, if you prefer, with myself, into an imaginery space, I was compelled to distinctly retain in my consciousness the particular disposition on the sixty-four fields, and in addition, to calculate for myself not only the current configuration but also even the possible, further moves of both partners, and indeed – I know how absurd all this sounds – to imagine myself two times and three times , no , six times , eight times, twelve times, for each of my egos, for Black and White always four and five moves ahead. I had to - pardon me for asking you to think about this madness of a game in the abstract space of fantasy - anticipate four or five moves as the white player, as well as the black player, to plan ahead all the possible future positions, as if I had two brains, the white brain and the black brain. But even this division of self was still not the most dangerous thing about my fanciful experiment, but rather that through the independent inventing of games I suddenly lost my bearings and got confused. The only reenactment of the champion matches , as I had practiced it in the previous weeks, in the end had been nothing but a reproductive performance of a given subject and as such was no more strenuous than if I had learned poems by heart or memorized articles of the law. It was a limited and disciplined activity and for that reason an excellent mental exercise. My two games that I rehearsed in the morning, and the two that I rehearsed in the afternoon represented a certain workload that I attended to without being excited in any way. They made up a normal occupation for me, and in addition, if I made a mistake in the course of a game or did not know what to do, I always had the support of the book. For just this reason this activity had been so salubrious and rather comforting for my shaken nerves because a re-enactment of unfamiliar games did not put myself into the game. I remained indifferent as to whether Black or White won. It was still Aljechin or Bogoljubov who were competing for the champion's palm and my own person, my mind, my soul enjoyed the peripetias and beauties of every game solely as a spectator, as a connoisseur. But the moment I tried to play against myself, I subconsciously started to challenge myself. Each of my two egos, my black one and my white one, had to compete with each other and each of them became ambitious, impatient to beat the other one, to win; as my black ego I was feverishly waiting after each move what I would do as my white ego. Each of my two egos triumphed when the other made an error and was enraged at the same time over his own clumsiness.

All this seems senseless, and in fact, such a contrived schizophrenia, such a splitting of consciousness with its its insertion of dangerous agitation, would be unthinkable in a normal person in a normal state. But do not forget that I was forcibly wrenched from all normalcy, a detainee innocently confined, subtly tortured with loneliness for months, a human being who long ago wanted to unload his pent-up rage against something. And since I had nothing else but this silly game against myself, my rage, my desire for revenge fanatically drove me into this game. Something in me wanted to be right, and yet I had only this other ego in me that I could fight; thus I worked myself up into an almost manic frenzy during the game. At first I had still reflected calmly and considerately, I had paused between two games to recuperate from the exhaustion; but little by little my irritated neves did not allow me to wait any longer. Hardly had my white ego made its move, my black ego feverishly pushed forward; the game had hardly finished when I already challenged myself to the next one, for every time one of the two chess-egos had been defeated by the other one and demanded a chance to get even. I will never be able to say even approximately how many games I played against myself in my cell over these recent months as a result of this mad insatiability – perhaps a thousand, perhaps more. It was an obsession that I was unable to fight off. From morning to night, I thought of nothing but bishops and pawns and rook and king and "a" and "b" and "c" and checkmate and castling. It pushed me with my whole being and feeling into the checkered square. Out of the joy of playing a lust to play had grown. Out of the lust to play a compulsion to play grew, a mania, a frenetic fury that pervaded not only my waking hours but gradually even my sleep as well. I could think only chess, only in chess movements, chess problems. Sometimes I woke up with a damp forehead and realized that I must have continued to play unwittingly, even in my sleep. And when I dreamed of people, it occurred solely in the movements of the bishop, the rook, the knight's back and forth. Even if I was called for questioning, I could not concisely think of my responsibility; I have the feeling I must have expressed myself quite confusingly during the last interrogations for the interrogators sometimes looked at each other disconcertedly. But in reality I was only waiting in my ill-fated greediness, while they asked me and consulted among each other, to be led back into my prison cell, to continue my game, my mad game, a new game and another one and another one. Each interruption was an interference to me; even the quarter hour in which my jailer cleaned up the prison cell, the two minutes when he brought my food, tortured my feverish impatience; sometimes the small dish with my meal still there untouched in the evening, I had forgotten to eat because of the game. The only physical response I had was a terrible thirst; it must have been the fever of constant thinking and playing; I emptied the bottle in two gulps and pestered the guard to get me more, only to feel my tongue dry in my mouth again in the next moment. Finally, my excitement increased while playing and I did nothing else from morning till night - to such a degree that I could not sit still a moment more; I kept walking up and down, faster and faster and faster and faster, up and down, and more and more heated, the more the decision of the game approached; the greed to win, to conquer, to be victorious over myself gradually became a kind of rage, I trembled with impatience, because the one check for me was always too slow for the other one in me. One of them pushed the other one; as ludicrous as this may seem to you, I started to berate myself - "faster, faster!" or "get on with it, get on with it!" when one ego in myself did not reposte fast enough to the other one. Of course it is quite obvious to me now that this conditon was quite like a pathological type of mental overexicitement, for which I can give no other name but the presently unknown medical term: chess poisoning. Finally this manomanic obsession started not only to affect my brain but also my body. I became emaciated, I slept restlessly and distressed, I needed a special effort every time I woke up to winch open my lead eyelids; sometimes I felt so weak that when I touched a drinking glass, I had trouble bringing it to my lips, my hands trembled; but when the game started, a wild force overcame me: I walked up and down with clenched fists, and as if through a red mist, I sometimes heard my own voice, as though it was a hoarse and evil cry of "check" or "mate!" to itself.

How this ghastly, this indescribable situation came to a head, I myself cannot report. All I know about it is that one morning I woke up and it was a different kind of awakening than before. My body was as if it were detached from me, I rested softly and pleasantly. A deep, pleasant tiredness, which I had not known for months, lay on my lids, lay there so warmly and comfortingly that at first I could not decide to open my eyes. I lay there for minutes, already awake, still enjoying this heavy numbness, this indifferent resting with lasciviously numb senses. Suddenly it seemed to me as if I was hearing voices behind me, lively human voices who were communicating with each other, and you cannot imagine how incredibly pleased I was, because for months, soon it would be almost a year, I had heard no other words but the hard, harsh, wicked words from the judges' panel. " You are dreaming," I said to myself. "You are dreaming! Whatever you do, don't open your eyes! Let it last, this dream, otherwise you will see the cursed cell around you again, the chair, the wash basin, the table and the wall paper with the eternal, never changing pattern. You are dreaming - keep dreaming!" But curiosity retained the upper hand. Slowly and cautiously I opened my eyes. And wonder: it was another room in which I was, a room, wider, roomier than my hotel cell. A window that was not barred allowed light to enter unhindered, allowing a view of green trees moving in the wind instead of my rigid fire wall, its walls shining white and smooth, white and smooth the ceiling rising above me - in truth, I was lying in a new, an unknown bed, and in fact it was no dream, behind me I heard softly whispering voices. I must have involuntarily stretched myself in my surprise, for I heard an approaching step behind me. A woman movng softly came in, a woman with a white cap, a nurse, a sister. A shower of delight fell over me: I hadn't seen a woman in a year. I stared at the lovely appearance and it must have been a wild ecstatic glance, because "Keep calm!" Keep calm!" the approaching one appeased urgently. But I listened only to her voice- wasn't that a human being, who spoke? Was there really a human being on the earth, who didn't interrogate, torture me. In addition to that - incomprehensible miracle! - a soft, warm, almost tender female voice. Greedily I stared at her mouth, for in this hellish year it had become improbable to me that one human being could speak kindly to another. She smiled at me - yes, she smiled! There were still people who could smile kindly - then she put her finger to her lips in warning and walked on quietly. But I couldn't obey her command. I still hadn't seen enough from the miracle. Forcibly I tried to get up in the bed to gaze after her, to gaze after this miracle of a human being who was so benevolent. ... But when I wanted to support myself at the edge of the bed, I didn't succeed. Where else my right hand had been, finger and joint, I felt something strange, a thick, big, white wad, obviously an extensive bandage. I was amazed by this whiteness, thickness, something strange on my hand at first without understanding, then I slowly began to understand where I was, and to think about what might have happened to me. ... Someone must have hurt me or I had hurt my hand myself. I was in a hospital.

At noon the doctor came, a kind, older gentleman. He knew the name of my family and respectfully mentioned my uncle, the imperial personal physician, so respectfully that I immediately got the feeling that he meant well with me. In the further process he asked me a lot of questions, especially one that surprised me - whether I have been a mathematician or a chemist. I answered in the negative.

"Strange", he muttered. "In your fever you kept shouting such strange formulas - c3, c4. None uf us knew, what to do. I asked what had happened to me. He smiled strangely.

"Nothing serious. An acute irritation of the nerves," and after he had looked around carefully, added quietly: "Lastly, a quite understandable one. Since March 13, right?" I nodded.

„No wonder with this method,“ he muttered.

„You‘re not the first. But don't worry." The way he whispered this to me soothingly and thanks to his kind look, I knew that I was very safe with him.

Two days later, the kind doctor told me pretty frankly what had happened. The guard had heard me scream out loud in my cell and at first believed that someone I was fighting with had broken in. But as soon as he showed himself at the door, I had thrown myself at him and shouted at him with wild exclamation like: "Go ahead, you scoundrel, you coward!", trying to grab him by the throat and finally attacking so wildly that he had to call for help. When I was then being dragged in my rabid state for the doctor's examination, I suddenly tore myself loose, fell on the window in the corridor, smashing the window, and cut my hand as a result - you can still see the deep scar here. The first nights in the hospital I had spent in a kind of brain fever, but now he finds my sensorium completely clear. Admittedly," he added quietly, "I'd rather not report this to the gentlemen, otherwise they'll take you back there in the end. You can count on me, I'll do my best." What this helpful doctor told my tormentors about me is beyond my knowledge. In any case, he reached what he wanted to achieve: my dismissal. It may be that he declared me certifiable, or perhaps I had already become unimportant to the Gestapo because Hitler had occupied Bohemia ever since, and that was the end of the Austrian case for him. So all I had to do was sign the obligation to leave our native country within a fortnight, and those fourteen days were so full of all the thousands of formalities that the former citizen of the world now needs for emigration - military papers, police, tax, passport, visa, health certificate - that I had no time to think very much about the past. Apparently, mysteriously regulating forces in our brain work to automatically switch off whatever can be annoying and dangerous for the soul, for whenever I wanted to think back to the time in my cell, the light in my brain goes out, so to speak; only after weeks and weeks, actually only here on the ship, did I find the courage to again reflect on what had happened to me.

And now you will understand why I behaved so unseemly and probably incomprehensibly towards your friends. I was strolling through the smoking room by chance when I saw your friends sitting in front of the chessboard; involuntarily I felt my foot rooted in amazement and horror. Because I completely forgot that you can play chess on a real chessboard and with real pieces, and I forgot that in this game two completely different people are sitting opposite each other. It truly took me a few minutes to remember that what those players were doing there was basically the same game I tried against myself for months in my helplessness. The ciphers I used during my grim retreat were only a substitute and symbol for these pieces with legs; my surprise that these pieces back on the board were the same as my imaginary fantasy in the realm of thought might perhaps be similar to that of an astronomer who, using the most complicated methods on paper, has calculated a new planet and then really spots it in the sky as a white, clear, substantial star. As if held tight magnetically, I stared at the board and saw my diagrams, knight, rook, king, queen and pawns as real figures, carved from wood; in order to oversee the placement of the game, I first had to mutate them back spontaneously from my abstract world of ciphers into that of the moving pieces. Gradually I was overcome by the curiosity to watch such a real game between two partners. And then the embarrassing thing happened that I, forgetting all courtesy, meddled in their game. But your friend's wrong chess move hit me like a stab in the heart. It was a pure instinct that I held him back, an impulsive approach, how to grab, without thinking, a child leaning over a railing. It was only later that I realized the gross impropriety of which I was guilty by my urgency." I hurried to assure Dr. B. how happy we all were to owe this coincidence to his acquaintance, and that after all he entrusts to me, it will now be doubly interesting for me to see him tomorrow at the improvised tournament. Dr. B. made a restless movement.

"No, don't really expect too much. It will be nothing but a test for me... a sample, whether I... if I am at all able to play a normal game of chess, a game on a real chess board with actual pieces and a living partner... because I now doubt more and more whether those hundreds and perhaps thousands of games I played were actually real chess games and not just a kind of dream chess, a fever chess, a fever game in which, as always happens in dreams, intermediate stages were skipped. I hope you won't seriously expect me to have the audacity to stand up to a chess master, and even the first in the world. What interests and intrigues me is only the posthumous curiosity to find out whether that was still chess in the cell back then or already madness, whether I was then standing just in front of or already beyond the dangerous cliff - only this, only this alone." At that moment the gong sounded from the end of the ship, announcing dinner. We had to have - Dr. B. had told me everything in much more detail than I can summarize here - chatted away for almost two hours. I thanked him heartily and took my leave. But I had not yet moved along the deck when he followed me already and added obviously nervous and even slightly stuttering: "One more thing! Do you want to tell the gentlemen in advance so that I don't seem rude afterwards: I am only playing one game... it should be nothing more than a final stroke - an ultimate conclusion and not a new beginning... I don't want to get into this passionate playing fever a second time, which I am able to remember only with horror... and by the way... by the way, the doctor warned me back then... I was expressly warned. Everyone who has been addicted to a mania remains in danger forever, and with chess intoxication - even if it has been cured - it would be better not to come close to a chessboard... So you understand - just this one trial game for myself and no more." Punctually at the agreed hour, three o'clock, we were gathered in the smoking room the next day. Our group of people had increased by two aficionados of the royal game, two ship officers, who had especially asked to be relieved from duty to be able to watch the tournament. As on the previous days, Czentovic also made people wait for him, and after the obligatory choice of the colors, the memorable match of this obscure human being against the famous world champion began. I am sorry to say that it was only played for us quite incompetent viewers, and that the sequence of moves was lost for the annals of the art of chess just as Beethovens piano improvisations are for music. 'The next afternoon we did try to reconstruct the game from memory yet it was in vain, we had all probably paid too much avid attention to the two players instead of the course of the game. Because the mental contrast in the habitus of the two partners became more and more physically malleable during the course of the game. Czentovic, the routinier, remained immobile like a rock the whole time, his eyes lowered, staring rigidly at the chess board; for him the act of thinking seemed to be well-nigh a physical effort requiring all of his organs to enable total concentration. Dr. B., on the other hand, moved completely relaxed a d unbiased. As the amateur by rights in the most beautiful sense of the word, who during play only enjoys the game, the "diletto", he let his body relax completely, chatting with us during the first breaks explaining, lit a cigarette in a facile manner and only looked directly at the board for a minute when it was his turn. Each time it looked as if he had expected his opponent's move in advance.

The obligatory opening moves ensued quite quickly. It wasn't until the seventh or eighth move that something like a certain plan seemed to develop. Czentovic prolonged his pauses for deliberation; that made us feel, that the real fight to gain the advantage began. But to tell the truth, the gradual development of the situation, as in any real tournament game, was quite a disappointment for us laymen. For the more the pieces intertwined into a strange ornament, the more impenetrable the actual state became for us. We were unable to see what one opponent or the other intended and which of the two actually had the advantage. We merely realized that individual pieces moved forward like levers to blow open the enemy front, but we were unable - since, for these superior players, every movement was always in concert with several moves ahead - to grasp the strategic intention in this back and forth. To this was gradually added a paralyzing fatigue, which was mainly due to Czentovic's endless pauses for reflection, which obviously also began to irritate our friend. I watched anxiously, as the longer the game dragged on, the more he began to move around restlessly on his chair, soon lighting one cigarette after another out of nervousness, then reaching for the pencil to jot something down. Then and again he ordered a mineral water that he hastily downed glass by glass; it was evident that he deduced a hundred times faster than Czentovic. Every time, after endless consideration, he decided to move a piece forward with his heavy hand, our friend just smiled like someone who sees something long-awaited arriving and has already riposted. He must have anticipated all the possibilities of his opponent through his fast working mind; the longer Czentovic's resolution was delayed, the more his impatience grew and an angry and almost hostile tension pressed onto his lips. But Czentovic wouldn't let himself be pressured in the least. The fewer pieces there were on the field, the more he thought stubbornly and silently and paused longer and longer. At the forty-second move, after two and three quarters long hours, we were all sitting around the tournament table, tired and almost indifferent. One of the ship's officers had already left, another had taken a book for reading and looked up for a moment after every change. But then suddenly the unexpected happened during Czentovic's chess move. As soon as Dr. B. noticed that Czentovic grabbed the knight to bring it forward, he crouched together like a cat before pouncing. His whole body began to tremble, and as soon as Czentovic had done the knight move, he sharply pushed the queen forward, triumphantly saying: "Yeah! Ready," he leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Czentovic with a challenging look. A hot light suddenly smoldered in his pupils.

We bent over the board involuntarily to understand the move so triumphantly announced. At first glance, no direct threat was visible. So our friend's statement had to refer to a development that we short-thinking amateurs could not yet calculate. Czentovic was the only one of us who had not moved by that challenging announcement; he sat as steadfastly as if he had totally not heard the insulting "Done!" Nothing happened. You suddenly heard, since we all involuntarily held our breath, the ticking of the clock, which had been placed on the board to check the time for each move.. Three minutes passed, seven minutes, eight minutes - Czentovic did not move but it seemed to me as if an inner strain made his thick nostrils expand still further. To our friend this silent waiting seemed as unbearable as to ourselves. He suddenly got up with a jolt and started to walk up and down the smoking room, slowly first, then faster and still faster. Everybody looked at him somewhat amazed but none was more worried than me, because I noticed that his steps despite all the vehemence of his walking forward and backward always covered only the same distance in the room; it was as if he each time he ran into an invisible barrier in the middle of the room, which made him turn back. And shuddering, I realized that he was unconsciously reproducing walking up and down the extent of his former cell; just as he must have run up and down in the months of being locked up like a confined animal in a cage, exactly in the way he was clenching his hands and crouching his shoulders; thus and only then he must have walked up and down there a thousand times, the red lights of madness in his eyes and indeed the feverish gaze. And yet his intellectual power seemed to be completely intact; because now and then he impatiently turned towards the table to find out if Czentovic had meanwhile decided on his next move. But there were nine, there were ten minutes. Then finally something happened that none of us had expected. Czentovic slowly raised his heavy hand, which until then had been lying immovably on the table. Anxiously we all waited to see what he would do. But Czentovic did not make a move but with his upturned hand pushed all chess pieces slowly from the board in one decisive jolt. It took a moment for us to understand: Czentovic had surrendered the game. He had surrendered so as not to be checkmated in front of us all. The improbable thing had happened, the world champion, the champion of countless tournaments, had lowered the flag before an unknown, a man who had not touched a chessboard for twenty or twenty-five years. Our friend, the anonymous Ignotus, defeated the strongest chess player in the world in open combat!

Without realizing it, we had gotten up one by one in our excitement. Each of us had the feeling that we had to say or do something to vent our joyful horror. The only one who remained motionless in his calmness was Czentovic. Only after a measured pause did he raise his head and stare at our friend with a stony look.

"Another game?" he asked.

"Of course," Dr. B. replied with unpleasant enthusiasm and sat down immediately, even before I could remind him of his intention to leave after one game, and began to set up the pieces again with feverish haste. He moved them together with such exuberance that twice a pawn slipped to the ground through his trembling fingers; my former embarrassing discomfort at his unnatural agitation grew into a kind of fear. For a visible excitement had come over the previously quiet and calm man; the twitch traveled more and more frequently around his mouth, and his body trembled as if shaken by an abrupt fever.

"Don't" I whispered softly to him. "Not now! Leave it at that for today! It is too exhausting for you." "Exhausting! Ha!" he laughed out loudly and wickedly. "I could have played seventeen games in the meantime instead of this dilly-dallying! The only exhausting thing for me is not to fall asleep at this pace! - Well! Why don't you start without me!" He had said these last words in a fierce almost insulting way to Czentovic. He looked at him in a calm and measured manner, but his stony gaze had something of a clenched fist. Suddenly there was something new between the two players; a dangerous tension, a passionate hatred. It was no longer two partners who wanted to pit their skills playfully against each other, it was two enemies who were sworn to destroy each other. Czentovic hesitated a long time before he made the first move, and I was overcome by the clear feeling that he deliberately hesitated for so long. Apparently the trained tactician had already found out that his slowness tired and irritated his opponent. So he stopped no less than four minutes before making the most normal, the simplest of all openings by advancing the king's pawn the usual two squares. Our opposed him with his king pawn right away, but again Czentovic took an endless, hardly bearable pause; it was as if a strong bolt of lighning struck and you are waiting with your heart trembling for the thunder to arrive, and the thunder just does not arrive. Czentovi did not move. He deliberated quietly, slowly and, as I felt more and more certain, maliciously slowly, but he gave me plenty of time to observe Dr. B. He had just gulped down the third glass of water; involuntarily reminding me that he had told me about his feverish thirst in the prison cell. All the symptoms of abnormal arousal were clearly visible; I saw his forehead become wet and the scar on his hand redder and sharper than before. But still he controlled himself. Only when Czentovic with his fourth move again contemplated endlessly, did he lose his composure and suddenly snapped at him: "Come on now, go and make your move!" Czentovic looked coldly at him. "To my knowledge we agreed on a ten minute limit for each move. I don't play in less time on principle." Dr. B. bit his lip; I noticed his sole under the table bobbing against the floor more and more restlessly, and I was becoming even more nervous from the oppressive premonition that something preposterous was brewing in him. In fact, a second incident occurred on the eighth move. Dr. B., who had been waiting and losing more and more of his self-control, could not restrain himself any longer; he shifted back and forth and subconsciously started drumming on the table with his fingers. Again Czentovic lifted his heavy peasant's head.

"May I ask your to stop drumming? It brothers me. I can't play like this." "Ha!" laughed Dr. B. briefly. "You can see that." Czentovic's forehead turned red. "What do you mean by this?" he asked sharply and angrily.

Dr. B. laughed once again curtly and wickedly. „Nothing. Except that you're obviously very nervous." Czentovic kept silent and bowed his head. It was seven minutes before he made his next move, and at this deadly pace the game dragged on. Czentovic became more and more petrified, so to speak; in the end, he always utilized the maximum of the agreed pause for reflection before deciding on one move, and from one interval to the next our friend's behavior became stranger. It seemed as if he no longer took part in the game at all, but was occupied with something completely different. He stopped his heated up and down walking and remained motionless in his place. Staring into the void with a rigid and almost insane gaze, he constantly muttered incomprehensible words to himself; either he lost himself in endless combinations, or - this was my innermost suspicion - he worked out completely different games, because every time Czentovic had finally moved, one had to urge him back from his absence of mind. Then he always needed a few minutes to find his way around the situation; more and more the suspicion crept up on me that he had actually forgotten Czentovic and all of us in this cold form of insanity, which could suddenly unload itself in some intensity. And in fact, on the nineteenth move, the crisis broke out. As soon as Czentovic moved his piece, Dr. B. suddenly thrust his bishop three squares forward without really looking at the board and shouted so loudly that we all got a start: "Check! Check on the king!" We immediately looked at the board in anticipation of a special move. But after a minute, what none of us expected happened. Czentovic raised his head very, very slowly and looked - which he had never done before - in our circle from one to the other. He seemed to enjoy something immeasurably, for gradually a content and clearly derisive smile began on his lips. Only after he enjoyed this triumph, which was still incomprehensible to us, did he turn to our round with false courtesy.

"I'm sorry - but I don't see a check. Does any of the gentlemen see a check against my king?" We looked at the board and then concerned over to Dr. B. Czentovic's king's field was indeed - a child could see that it was fully covered by a pawn against the bishop, so no check was possible on the king. We became restless. Could our friend have pushed a piece too close or too far afield in his hastiness? Drawn to our attention by our silence, Dr. B. now also stared at the board and began to stammer violently: "But the king belongs on f7... it is wrong, completely wrong. You moved incorrectly! Everything is all wrong on this board... the pawn belongs on g5 and not on g4... this is a completely different game... This is..." Suddenly he faltered. I had grabbed him violently by the arm or rather pinched him so hard in the arm that even in his feverish confusion, he had to feel my grip. He turned around and stared at me like someone who was sleepwalking.

"What . . . what do you want?" I said nothing other than "Remember!" at the same time tracing my finger over the scar on his hand. Involuntarily following my movement, he stared glassy-eyed at the blood-red line. Then he suddenly began to tremble, and a shiver ran through his whole body.

"For the love of God," he whispered through pale lips. "Have I done or said something stupid . . . am I going to end up in my cell again . . .?" "No," I whispered softly. "But you must terminate the game immediately, it's high time. Remember what the doctor told you!" Dr B suddenly got to his feet. "Pray do excuse me for my stupid mistake," he said in his old-fashioned polite voice and bowed to Czentovic. "Naturally what I said is complete nonsense. Of course it remains your game". Then he turned to us. "I must also ask you gentlemen to forgive me. But I did warn you beforehand not to expect too much from me. Forgive me for making a fool of myself - it was the last time I tried my hand at chess." He bowed and walked in the same humble and mysterious manner with which he first appeared. Only I knew why this man would never touch a chessboard again, while the others remained a little confused with the uncertain feeling of having narrowly escaped something uncomfortable and dangerous. "Damned fool!" McConnor growled in his disappointment. Czentovic was the last to get up from his chair and cast a glance at the half-finished game.

"Too bad," he said magnanimously. "The attack wasn't so badly planned at all. For an amateur, this gentleman is actually unusually gifted."
unit 1
Er hatte auf den Deckchair neben sich gedeutet.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 2
Gerne folgte ich seiner Einladung.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 3
Wir waren ohne Nachbarn.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 14
unit 26
Aber nichts dergleichen geschah.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 27
Ich kam in eine andere Kategorie.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 29
An sich war meine bescheidene Person natürlich der Gestapo völlig uninteressant.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 34
Auch mir unscheinbarem Mann wurde diese Auszeichnung erwiesen.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 35
Ein eigenes Zimmer in einem Hotel – nicht wahr, das klingt an sich äußerst human?
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 40
Auf den ersten Blick sah das mir zugewiesene Zimmer durchaus nicht unbehaglich aus.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 41
Es hatte eine Tür, ein Bett, einen Sessel, eine Waschschüssel, ein vergittertes Fenster.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 46
Man ging auf und ab, und mit einem gingen die Gedanken auf und ab, auf und ab, immer wieder.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 48
Man wartete auf etwas, von morgens bis abends, und es geschah nichts.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 49
Man wartete wieder und wieder.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 50
Es geschah nichts.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 51
unit 52
Nichts geschah.
1 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 53
Man blieb allein.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 54
Allein.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 55
Allein.
1 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 56
Das dauerte vierzehn Tage, die ich außerhalb der Zeit, außerhalb der Welt lebte.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 58
Dann endlich begannen die Verhöre.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 59
Man wurde plötzlich abgerufen, ohne recht zu wissen, ob es Tag war oder Nacht.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months ago
unit 64
Aber hatte er sie erhalten?
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 65
Hatte er sie nicht erhalten?
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 66
Und wieviel hatte jener Kanzlist verraten?
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 68
Und sie fragten und fragten.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 71
unit 72
Leugnete ich zuviel ab, so schädigte ich mich selbst.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 73
Aber das Verhör war noch nicht das Schlimmste.
3 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months ago
unit 87
Ich konnte mich auf nichts konzentrieren.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 88
Immer fuhr und flackerte derselbe Gedanke dazwischen: Was wissen sie?
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 89
Was habe ich gestern gesagt, was muß ich das nächste Mal sagen?
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 90
Dieser eigentlich unbeschreibbare Zustand dauerte vier Monate.
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 91
Nun – vier Monate, das schreibt sich leicht hin: just ein Dutzend Buchstaben!
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 92
Das spricht sich leicht aus: vier Monate vier Silben.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 93
In einer Viertelsekunde hat die Lippe rasch so einen Laut artikuliert: vier Monate!
3 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 95
An kleinen Zeichen wurde ich beunruhigt gewahr, daß mein Gehirn in Unordnung geriet.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 100
Ich will alles sagen!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 101
Ich will alles aussagen!
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months ago
unit 102
Ich will sagen, wo die Papiere sind, wo das Geld liegt!
3 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months ago
unit 103
Alles werde ich sagen, alles!‹ Glücklicherweise hörte er mich nicht mehr.
2 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 104
Vielleicht wollte er mich auch nicht hören.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 107
Im Vorzimmer des Untersuchungsrichters mußte ich warten.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 108
Immer mußte man bei jeder Vorführung warten: auch dieses Wartenlassen gehörte zur Technik.
5 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 110
Und man ließ mich besonders lange warten an diesem Donnerstag, dem 27.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 112
Juli‹ an der Wand anstarrte und anstarrte; ich fraß sie gleichsam in mein Gehirn hinein.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 119
Und plötzlich blieb mein Blick starr an etwas haften.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 120
Ich hatte entdeckt, daß an einem der Mäntel die Seitentasche etwas aufgebauscht war.
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 122
Mir begannen die Knie zu zittern: ein BUCH!
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 127
Fast ohne es zu wissen, drückte ich mich immer näher heran.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 131
Ein Buch!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 132
Und wie ein Schuß durchzuckte mich der Gedanke: stiehl dir das Buch!
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 137
jetzt erst erschrak ich vor meiner Tat.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 138
Aber ich konnte nicht mehr zurück.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 139
jedoch wohin damit?
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 141
Nun galt es die erste Probe.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 142
Ich trat von der Garderobe weg, einen Schritt, zwei Schritte, drei Schritte.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 143
Es ging.
2 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 144
Es war möglich, das Buch im Gehen festzuhalten, wenn ich nur die Hand fest an den Gürtel preßte.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 145
Dann kam die Vernehmung.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 149
Nun vermuten Sie wahrscheinlich, ich hätte sofort das Buch gepackt, betrachtet, gelesen.
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 150
Keineswegs!
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 153
– Goethe oder Homer.
2 Translations, 6 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 154
Aber schließlich konnte ich meine Gier, meine Neugier nicht länger verhalten.
3 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 159
Aber was sollte mir dieses theoretische Zeug?
4 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 160
Schach kann man doch nicht spielen ohne einen Partner und schon gar nicht ohne Steine, ohne Brett.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 3 weeks ago
unit 162
Alles das schien mir eine Art Algebra, zu der ich keinen Schlüssel fand.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 165
unit 166
Ich versteckte also zunächst das Buch unter der Matratze und riß nur die erste Seite heraus.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 183
Dann geriet ich unvermuteterweise an einen toten Punkt.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 184
Plötzlich stand ich neuerdings vor dem Nichts.
1 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 190
Ich mußte versuchen, mit mir selbst oder vielmehr gegen mich selbst zu spielen.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 199
Es war, als ob er eine verstörende Erinnerung gewaltsam unterdrücken wollte.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 200
Wieder lief das merkwürdige Zucken, das er nicht zu beherrschen wußte, um den linken Mundwinkel.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 201
Dann richtete er sich in seinem Lehnstuhl etwas höher auf.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 202
»So – bis zu diesem Punkte hoffe ich, Ihnen alles ziemlich verständlich erklärt zu haben.
2 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 237
Mein Körper war gleichsam abgelöst von mir, ich ruhte weich und wohlig.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 241
›Du träumst, sagte ich mir.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 242
›Du träumst!
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 243
Tu keinesfalls die Augen auf!
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 245
Du träumst – träume weiter!‹ Aber die Neugier behielt die Oberhand.
4 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 246
Ich schlug langsam und vorsichtig die Lider auf.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 251
Ein Schauer des Entzückens fiel über mich: ich hatte seit einem Jahr keine Frau gesehen.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 253
Bleiben Sie ruhig!‹ beschwichtigte mich dringlich die Nahende.
1 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 2 weeks ago
unit 254
Ich aber lauschte nur auf ihre Stimme – war das nicht ein Mensch, der sprach?
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 255
Gab es wirklich noch auf Erden einen Menschen, der mich nicht verhörte, nicht quälte?
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 256
Und dazu noch – unfaßbares Wunder!
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 257
– eine weiche, warme, eine fast zärtliche Frauenstimme.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 260
Aber ich konnte ihrem Gebot nicht gehorchen.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 261
Ich hatte mich noch nicht sattgesehen an dem Wunder.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 263
Aber wie ich mich am Bettrande aufstützen wollte, gelang es mir nicht.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 266
Man mußte mich verwundet haben, oder ich hatte mich selbst an der Hand verletzt.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 267
Ich befand mich in einem Hospital.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 268
Mittags kam der Arzt, ein freundlicher älterer Herr.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 271
Ich verneinte.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 272
›Sonderbar‹, murmelte er.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 273
›Im Fieber haben Sie immer so sonderbare Formeln geschrien – c3, c4.
4 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 274
Wir haben uns alle nicht ausgekannt.‹ Ich erkundigte mich, was mit mir vorgegangen sei.
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 275
Er lächelte merkwürdig.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 276
›Nichts Ernstliches.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 278
Seit dem 13.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 279
März, nicht wahr?‹ Ich nickte.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 280
›Kein Wunder bei dieser Methode‹, murmelte er.
4 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 281
›Sie sind nicht der erste.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 283
Zwei Tage später erklärte mir der gütige Doktor ziemlich freimütig, was vorgefallen war.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 290
jedenfalls erreichte er, was er erreichen wollte: meine Entlassung.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 300
unit 301
unit 302
Aber dieser falsche Zug Ihres Freundes traf mich wie ein Stich ins Herz.
3 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 305
Dr. B. machte eine unruhige Bewegung.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 306
»Nein, erwarten Sie wirklich nicht zu viel.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 319
Dr. B. dagegen bewegte sich vollkommen locker und unbefangen.
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 321
Jedesmal hatte es den Anschein, als hätte er den Zug des Gegners schon im voraus erwartet.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 322
Die obligaten Eröffnungszüge ergaben sich ziemlich rasch.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 323
Erst beim siebenten oder achten schien sich etwas wie ein bestimmter Plan zu entwickeln.
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 334
Aber Czentovic ließ sich keineswegs drängen.
3 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 335
unit 338
Aber da geschah plötzlich bei einem Zuge Czentovics das Unerwartete.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 342
Ein heißes Licht glomm plötzlich in seiner Pupille.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 343
unit 344
Auf den ersten Blick war keine direkte Bedrohung sichtbar.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 347
Nichts geschah.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 350
Unserem Freunde schien dieses stumme Warten ebenso unerträglich wie uns selbst.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 355
Aber es wurden neun, es wurden zehn Minuten.
1 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 356
Dann endlich geschah, was niemand von uns erwartet hatte.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 357
Czentovic hob langsam seine schwere Hand, die bisher unbeweglich auf dem Tisch gelegen.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 358
Gespannt blickten wir alle auf seine Entscheidung.
4 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 360
Erst im nächsten Augenblick verstanden wir: Czentovic hatte die Partie aufgegeben.
2 Translations, 6 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 361
Er hatte kapituliert, um nicht vor uns sichtbar mattgesetzt zu werden.
2 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 364
Ohne es zu merken, waren wir in unserer Erregung einer nach dem anderen aufgestanden.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 366
Der einzige, der unbeweglich in seiner Ruhe verharrte, war Czentovic.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 367
unit 368
»Noch eine Partie?« fragte er.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 372
»Nicht!« flüsterte ich ihm leise zu.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 373
»Nicht jetzt!
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 374
Lassen Sie's für heute genug sein!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 375
Es ist für Sie zu anstrengend.« »Anstrengend!
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 376
Ha!« lachte er laut und boshaft.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 377
»Siebzehn Partien hätte ich unterdessen spielen können statt dieser Bummelei!
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 378
Anstrengend ist für mich einzig, bei diesem Tempo nicht einzuschlafen!
3 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 379
– Nun!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 388
Czentovic rührte sich nicht.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 392
Aber noch beherrschte er sich.
2 Translations, 0 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 394
»Wir haben meines Wissens zehn Minuten Zugzeit vereinbart.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 396
In der Tat ereignete sich bei dem achten Zug ein zweiter Zwischenfall.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 398
Abermals hob Czentovic seinen schweren bäurischen Kopf.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 399
»Darf ich Sie bitten, nicht zu trommeln?
2 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 400
Es stört mich. Ich kann so nicht spielen.« »Ha!« lachte Dr. B. kurz.
5 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 401
»Das sieht man.« Czentovics Stirn wurde rot.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 402
»Was wollen Sie damit sagen?« fragte er scharf und böse.
2 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 403
Dr. B. lachte abermals knapp und boshaft.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 404
»Nichts.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 405
Nur daß Sie offenbar sehr nervös sind.« Czentovic schwieg und beugte seinen Kopf nieder.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 409
Er ließ sein hitziges Aufundniederlaufen und blieb an seinem Platz regungslos sitzen.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 412
Und tatsächlich, bei dem neunzehnten Zug brach die Krise aus.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 414
Schach dem König!« Wir blickten in der Erwartung eines besonderen Zuges sofort auf das Brett.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 415
Aber nach einer Minute geschah, was keiner von uns erwartet.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 419
»Bedaure – aber ich sehe kein Schach.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 422
Wir wurden unruhig.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 423
unit 425
Sie haben falsch gezogen!
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 428
Er wandte sich um und starrte mich wie ein Traumwandler an.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 430
Er folgte unwillkürlich meiner Bewegung, sein Auge starrte glasig auf den blutroten Strich.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 431
Dann begann er plötzlich zu zittern, und ein Schauer lief über seinen ganzen Körper.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 432
»Um Gottes willen«, flüsterte er mit blassen Lippen.
2 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 434
»Aber Sie müssen sofort die Partie abbrechen, es ist höchste Zeit.
4 Translations, 5 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 435
Erinnern Sie sich, was der Arzt Ihnen gesagt hat!« Dr. B. stand mit einem Ruck auf.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 437
»Es ist natürlich purer Unsinn, was ich gesagt habe.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 438
Selbstverständlich bleibt es Ihre Partie.« Dann wandte er sich zu uns.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 439
»Auch die Herren muß ich um Entschuldigung bitten.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 440
Aber ich hatte Sie gleich im voraus gewarnt, Sie sollten von mir nicht zuviel erwarten.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 443
»Damned fool!« knurrte McConnor in seiner Enttäuschung.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 444
unit 445
»Schade«, sagte er großmütig.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 446
»Der Angriff war gar nicht so übel disponiert.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
unit 447
Für einen Dilettanten ist dieser Herr eigentlich ungewöhnlich begabt.«
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 249  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 282  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 116  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 117  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 118  6 months, 1 week ago
DrWho • 8472  commented on  unit 270  6 months, 1 week ago
DrWho • 8472  commented on  unit 166  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 372  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 281  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 280  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 277  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 270  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 264  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 262  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 248  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 238  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 165  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 176  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 447  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 447  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 441  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 309  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 304  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 345  6 months, 1 week ago
DrWho • 8472  commented on  unit 297  6 months, 1 week ago
DrWho • 8472  commented on  unit 345  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 336  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 37  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 446  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 443  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 442  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 424  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 422  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 420  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 209  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 365  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 364  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 191  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 208  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 398  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 193  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 188  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 187  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 180  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 211  6 months, 1 week ago
3Bn37Arty • 2772  commented on  unit 215  6 months, 1 week ago
3Bn37Arty • 2772  commented on  unit 209  6 months, 1 week ago
Merlin57 • 3758  commented on  unit 192  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 143  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 140  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 128  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 123  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 70  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 116  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 400  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 432  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 433  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 434  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 436  6 months, 1 week ago
Merlin57 • 3758  commented on  unit 93  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 434  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 399  6 months, 1 week ago
Merlin57 • 3758  commented on  unit 39  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 391  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 396  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 417  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 423  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 447  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 428  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 425  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 444  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 447  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 230  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 234  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 311  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 312  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 317  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 326  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 447  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 440  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 439  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 438  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 437  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 435  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 431  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 430  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 428  6 months, 1 week ago
anitafunny • 6261  commented on  unit 329  6 months, 1 week ago
bf2010 • 4802  commented on  unit 403  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 434  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 376  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 347  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 378  6 months, 1 week ago
lollo1a • 3447  commented on  unit 438  6 months, 1 week ago