Alraune

• Prelude
• Chapter 01
• Chapter 02
• Chapter 03
• Chapter 04
• Chapter 05
• Chapter 06
• Chapter 07
• Chapter 08
• Chapter 09
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Afterword

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Alraune

By Hanns Heinz Ewers 1911
Translated by Joe E. Bandel 2008

Copyright 2008 by Joe E. Bandel Protected under United States Copyright Law as a derivative work of a foreign Author originally published prior to 1923

		Chapter 2

The explanation, how it happened that the idea for Alraune came about.

The sun had already set and the candles were burning on the chandelier in the Festival room as Privy Councillor ten Brinken entered. He appeared festive enough in a dress suit. There was a large star on the white vest and a gold chain in the buttonhole from which twenty small medals dangled.

The Legal Councillor stood up, greeted him, and then he and the old gentleman went around the room with threadbare smiles, saying kind words to everyone. They stopped in front of the celebrating girls and the old gentleman took two gold rings out of a beautiful leather case and formally presented them. The one with a sapphire was for blond Frieda and the ruby was for dark Olga. Then he gave a very wise speech to both of them.

"Would you like to sit for a spell?" Mr. Sebastian Gontram asked. "We've been sitting over there for four hours. Seventeen courses! Isn't that something! Here is the menu, is there anything you would like?"

The Privy Councillor thanked him, but he had already eaten.

Then Mrs. Gontram came into the room in a blue, somewhat old-fashioned silk gown with a train. Her hair was done up high.

"I can't eat anymore ice cream," she cried. "Prince Puckler had Billa put all of it on the cinnamon noodles!"

The guests laughed. They never knew what to expect in the Gontram house.

Attorney Manasse cried, "Bring the dish in here! We haven't seen Prince Puckler or fresh cinnamon noodles all day!"

Privy Councillor ten Brinken looked around for a chair. He was a small man, smooth shaven, with thick watery bags under his eyes. He was repulsive enough with swollen hanging lips, a huge meaty nose, and the lid of his left eye drooped heavy but the right stood wide open, squinting around in a predatory manner. Someone behind him said:

"Good Day Uncle Jakob."

It was Frank Braun. The Privy Councillor turned around; it was very unusual to see his nephew here.

"You're here?" He asked. "I can only imagine why."

The student laughed, "Naturally! But you are so wise Uncle. You look good by the way, and very official, like a University Professor in proud dress uniform with all your medals. I'm here incognito- over there with the other students stuck at the west table."

"That just proves your twisted thinking, where else would you be sitting?" His uncle said. "When you first-"

"Yes, yes," Frank Braun interrupted him. "When I finally get as old as you, then I will be permitted...and so on. That's what you would tell me, isn't it? All heaven be praised that I'm not yet twenty Uncle Jakob. I like it this way much better."

The Privy Councillor sat down. "Much better? I can believe that. In the fourth Semester and doing nothing but fighting, drinking, fencing, riding, loving and making poor grades!

I wrote your mother about the grades the University gave you. Tell me youngster, just what are you doing in college anyway?"

The student filled two cups, "Here Uncle Jakob, drink, then your suffering will be lighter! Well, I've been in classes already, not just one, an entire series of classes. I'm leaving. I'm not going back."

"Prosit!"

"Done?" Frank Braun laughed. "I'm much more than done. I'm overflowing! I'm done with college and I'm done with the Law. I'm going to travel. Why should I be in college? It's possible that the other students can learn from you professors but their brains must then comply with your methods. My brain will not comply. I find every single one of you unbelievably foolish, boring and stupid."

The Professor took a long look at him. "You are immensely arrogant, my dear boy," he said quietly.

"Really? The student leaned back, put one leg over the other. "Really? I scarcely believe that. But if so, it doesn't really matter. I know what I'm doing. First, I'm saying this to annoy you a bit. Second, to hear back from you that I'm right.

For example, you Uncle, are certainly a shrewd old fox, very intelligent, clever and you know a multitude of things. But in college weren't you just as insufferable as the rest of your respected colleagues? Didn't you at one time or another say to yourself that you wanted to perhaps just have fun?"

"Me? Most certainly not!" The Professor said. "But that is something else. When you first- Well, ok, you know already. Now tell me boy, where in all the world will you go from here? Your mother will not like to hear that you are not coming home.

"Very well," cried Frank Braun. I will answer you.

But first, why have you have rented this house to Gontram? He is certainly not a person that does things by the book. Still, it is always good when you can from time to time have someone like that.

His tubercular wife naturally interests you as a medical doctor. All the doctors in the city are enraptured by this phenomenon without lungs. Then there's the Princess that you would gladly sell your castle in Mehlem to.

Finally, dear Uncle, there are the two teenagers over there, beautiful, fresh vegetables aren't they? I know how you like young girls. Oh, in all honor, naturally. You are always honorable Uncle Jakob!"

He stopped, lit a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. The Privy Councillor squinted at him poisonously with the predatory right eye.

"What did you want to tell me?" He asked lightly.

The student gave a short laugh. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all!"

He stood up, went to the corner table, picked up a cigar box and opened it. They were the expensive cigars of the Privy Councillor.

"The smokes, dear Uncle. Look, Romeo and Juliet, your brand. The Legal Councillor has certainly not spared any expense for you!"

He offered one to the Privy Councillor.

"Thank you," growled the Professor. "Thank you. Now once again, what is it that you want to tell me?"

Frank Braun moved his chair closer.

"I will answer you Uncle Jakob, but first I need to reproach you. I don't like what you did, do you hear me? I know myself quite well, know that I've been wasting my life and that I continue...Leave that. You don't care and I'm not asking you to pay any of my debts.

I only request that you never again write such a letter to our house. You will write back to mother and tell her that I am very virtuous, very moral, work very hard and that I'm moving on and such stuff. Do you understand?"

"Yes, that I must lie," said the Privy Coucillor. It should sound realistic and witty, but it will sound slimy as a snail, even to her."

The student looked at him squarely, "Yes Uncle, you should even lie. Not on my account, you know that, but for mother."

He stopped for a moment gazing into his glass, and since you will tell these lies for me, I will now tell you this."

"I am curious," said the Privy Councillor a little uncertainly.

"You know my life," the student continued and his voice rang with bitter honesty. "You know that I, up until today, have been a stupid youth. You know because you are an old and clever man, highly educated, rich, known by all, decorated with titles and orders, because you are my uncle and my mother's only brother. You think that gives you a right to educate me. Right or not, you will never do it. No one will ever do it, only life will educate me."

The professor slapped his knee and laughed out loud. "Yes, life! Just wait youngster. It will educate you soon enough. It has enough twists and turns, beautiful rules and laws, solid boundaries and thorny barriers."

Frank Braun replied, "They are nothing for me, much less for me than for you. Have you, uncle Jakob, ever fought through the twists, cut through the wiry thorns and laughed at all the laws? I have."

"Pay attention uncle," he continued. "I know your life as well. The entire city knows it and the sparrows pipe their little jokes about you from the rooftops. But the people only talk to themselves in whispers, because they fear you, fear your cleverness and your money. They fear your power and your energy.

I know why little Anna Paulert died. I know why your handsome gardener had to leave so quickly for America. I know many more little stories about you. Oh, I don't approve, certainly not. But I don't think of you as evil. I even admire you a little perhaps because you, like a little king, can do so many things with impunity. The only thing I don't understand is how you are successful with all the children. You are so ugly."

The Privy Councillor played with his watch chain. Then he looked quietly at his nephew, almost flattered.

"You really don't understand that?"

The student replied, "No, absolutely not at all. But I do understand how you have come to it! For a long time you've had everything that you wanted, everything that a person could have within the normal constraints of society. Now you want more. The brook is bored in its old bed, steps here and there over the narrow banks. It is in your blood."

The professor raised his glass, reaching it out to him.

"Give me another, my boy," he said. His voice trembled a little and certainly rang out with solemnity. "You are right. It is in the blood, my blood and your blood."

He drank and reached out to shake hands with his nephew.

"You will write mother like I want you to?" Frank Braun asked.

"Yes, I will," replied the elder.

The student said, "Thank you uncle Jakob." He took the outstretched hand and shook it.

"Now go, you old Don Juan, call the Communicants! They both look beautiful in their sacred gowns, don't they?"

"Hmm," said the uncle. "Don't they look good to you?"

Frank Braun laughed. "Me? Oh, my God! No, uncle Jakob, I am no rival, not today. Today I have a higher ambition, perhaps when I am as old as you are! But I am not the guardian of their virtue. Those two celebrating roses will not improve until they have been plucked. Someone will, and soon. Why not you? Hey Olga, Frieda! Come on over here!"

But neither girl came over. They were hovering around Dr. Mohnen, filling his glass and listening to his suggestive stories.

The Princess came over; Frank Braun stood up and offered her his chair.

"Sit down, sit down!" she cried. "I have absolutely nothing to chat with you about!"

"Just a few minutes, your Highness, I will go get a cigarette," the student said. "My uncle has been waiting all night for permission to give you his compliments. He will be overjoyed."

The Privy Councillor was not overjoyed about it. He would have much rather had the little princess sitting there, but now he entertained the mother.

Frank Braun went to the window as the Legal Councillor and Mrs. Marion went up to the Grand Piano. Mr. Gontram sat down on the piano bench, turned around and said.

"I would like a little quiet please. Mrs. Marion would like to sing a song for us."

He turned to the Lady, "What would you like after that dear Lady? Another one I hope. Perhaps 'Les Papillions'? or perhaps 'Il Baccio' from Arditti? Give me the music for them as well!"

The student looked across, she always looked good, this old well formed lady. He believed she really had all the adventures that she related. At one time she had been the fiery Diva of Europe. Now she lived in this city that was still stuck back in the fourth century in her little villa. She took long walks through her gardens every evening, put flowers on the graves of her dead hounds and cried for a half-hour.

Now she sang. She had lost her magnificent voice years ago, but there was still a rare magic in her performance, out of the old school. The smile of the conqueror lay on her rouged lips and the thick face paint attempted to capture the former sweetness of her features. Her thick sweaty hands played with the ivory fan and her eyes searched the room as if trying to scratch and pull the applause out of the audience.

Oh yes, she certainly fit in here, Madame Marion Ve're de Ve're, fit in this house, like all the others that were guests. Frank Braun looked around. There sat his dear uncle with the Princess and behind them leaning against the door stood attorney Manasse and Chaplain Schroder. The long, gaunt, dark chaplain was the best wine connoisseur on the Mosel and the Saar. It was nearly impossible to find a wine cellar that he had not gone into and sampled. Schroder had written a never-ending clever book about the abstruse philosophy of Plotinus and at the same time had written the skits for the Puppet Theater in Cologne. He was enthusiastic particularly about the first Napoleon. He hated the Prussians and anyone that spoke of the Kaiser. Every year on the fifth of May he traveled back to Cologne and the Minority Church where he celebrated a High Mass for the tormented dead of the "Grand Army".

There sat the large, gold spectacled Stanislaus Schacht, candidate for a degree in Philosophy, in his sixteenth semester, too fat, too lazy to get off his chair. For years he had lived as a lodger at the widow of Professor Dr. von Dollinger's house. He had for a long time now been installed as the new master of the house. She was that little, ugly, over thin woman sitting beside him, always filling his glass and loading his plate with heaping portions of food. She didn't eat anything, but she drank as much as he did and with every new glass her ardor grew. She laughingly caressed his huge meaty arm with her bony finger.

Near her stood Karl Mohnen, Dr. jur and Dr. phil. He was a schoolmate and chess player. It was through chess that they had met and become great friends. By now he had studied almost as long as Stanislaus, only he was always taking exams, always changing his major. At the moment it was Philosophy and he was studying for his third exam. He looked like a clerk in a department store, quick, hurried and always moving.

Frank Braun always thought that he should go into business as a merchant. He would certainly be happy running a confectionery where he would have women to serve him. He was always looking for a rich party-on the street, large window promenades too. He had an aptitude for meeting new people and making new friends, especially traveling English women. He clutched onto them gladly, but sadly they had no money.

There was still another person there, the small Hussar Lieutenant with the little black mustache that was chatting with the girls. He, the young Count Geroldingen, could always be found back stage in every theater performance. He painted the sets, was talented with the violin and the best horse racer in the regiment. He was now telling Olga and Frieda something about Beethoven that was horribly boring. They were only listening because he was such a handsome little Lieutenant.

Oh yes, they all belonged here without exception. They all had a little gypsy blood despite titles and orders, despite tonsures and uniforms, despite diamonds and golden spectacles, despite all the civilized posturing. Some were devouring food; some were making small detours away from the path of civilized decency.

A roar resounded and merged with Mrs. Marion's singing. It was the Gontram rascals fighting on the stairs. Their mother went up to quiet them down. Then Wolfchen screamed in the next room and the girls had to carry the child up into the attic. They took Cyclops along, putting both to bed in the narrow child's wagon.

Mrs. Marion began her second song, "Shattentanz" from the opera "Dinorah".

The Princess asked the Privy Councillor about his latest endeavors and if she could come once more to see the remarkable frogs, amphibians and cute monkeys. Yes, she could certainly come. There was a new species of rose that she should really see. It was at his Mehlemer castle. He also had large white camellias that his gardener had planted; she would be interested in them as well.

But the Princess was more interested in the frogs and monkeys than the roses and camellias so he related his endeavors to transfer eggs from one frog to another and artificially inseminate them. He told her that he had already produced a beautiful female frog with two heads and another with fourteen eyes on its back.

He would dissect one and remove the eggs from it and fertilize them before transferring the little tadpoles to another frog and just like that, the cells would merrily divide and develop into new life with heads and tails, eyes and legs.

Then he told her about his efforts with monkeys relating that he had two young long tailed monkeys that were being suckled by their virgin mother. She had never even seen a male monkey!

That interested the Princess the most and she asked for all the details. She had read something about it but didn't understand all the Greek and Latin words. Maybe he could explain it to her in perfect German so she could understand?

The obscene cliches and behaviors dripped out of the Privy Councillor as he explained in anatomical detail just what he did. Spittle drooled down from the corners of his mouth and ran down his heavy, hanging lower lip.

He enjoyed this game, this obscene chatter, watching her voluptuously slurp up every shameful word. Then when he was close to saying an especially repulsive word, he would throw in "Your Highness" and savor with delight the titillation of the delicious contrast.

And how she listened to him! Her face becoming flushed, excited, almost trembling, sucking this Bordello atmosphere in with all of her pores, as he unveiled what really went on behind the thin scientific banner.

"Do you only inseminate monkeys, Mr. Privy Councillor?" She asked breathlessly.

"No," he said. "Also rats and Guinea pigs. Would you like to watch, Your Highness, when I-" He lowered his voice, almost whispered.

She cried, "Yes, yes! I must see it! Gladly, very gladly! When?"

Then she added with a slow, almost evil dignity. "Did you know, Mr. Privy Councillor, that nothing interests me more than the study of medicine. I believe I would have been a very talented doctor."

He looked at her and grinned widely. "No doubt, Your Highness."

And he thought, that she certainly would have been a much better Bordello Mother. But he was satisfied; he had his little fish hooked safely on his line.

Then he continued again about his new breed of rose and the camellias at his castle on the Rhein. It was so troublesome for him, and he had only taken possession of it as a favor. The location was such an excellent one and the view- Perhaps when her Highness finally decided to buy a place she might-

The Princess Wolkonski decided herself, without any hesitation at all.

"Yes, certainly Mr. Privy Councillor, yes, certainly, naturally I will take your castle!"

She saw Frank Braun going past and called out to him, "Hey, Mr. Studious! Mr. Studious! Come over here! Your uncle has promised that I can observe one of his experiments. Isn't that delightfully charming? Have you already seen what he does?"

"No," said Frank Braun. "I'm not at all interested."

He turned to go away but she grabbed him by the arm and stopped him.

"Give me a cigarette! Oh, and, yes, a glass of champagne please."

She shivered in hot desire, beads of sweat crept over her massive flesh. Her crude senses had been whipped to frenzy from her shameless talk with the elder. Her passion needed a goal, a target, and it broke over the young fellow like a huge wave.

"Tell me, Mr. Studious," her breath panted, her mighty breasts threatened to leap out of her dress. "Tell me, do you believe that- that- Mr. Privy Councillor-his science- his experiments with artificial insemination-does he do it with people as well?"

She knew very well that he didn't, but she needed to say it before she could get to what she really wanted with this young, fresh and handsome student.

Frank Braun laughed, instinctively understanding what she had in mind.

"But of course, Your Highness," he said lightly. "Most certainly! Uncle is already working on it, has discovered a new procedure so refined that the poor woman in question is not even aware of it. Not at all- until she wakes up one beautiful day and discovers that she is pregnant, probably in the fourth of fifth month!

Be very careful Your Highness, keep a watchful eye on Mr. Privy Councillor. Who knows, you might already be-"

"Heaven Forbid!" Screamed the Princess. "Yes, it could happen," he cried. "Wouldn't it be very unpleasant? When you have done absolutely nothing to make it happen!"

Crash! Something had fallen off the wall, fallen on Sophia, hitting the housemaid right on the head. The maid had screamed out loud and in her fright had dropped the silver tray she had been serving coffee on.

"A shame about the beautiful silver service," said Mrs. Gontram calmly. "What happened?"

Dr. Mohnen immediately took a quick look at the crying housemaid, cut a strand of hair away, washed the gaping edges of the wound and stopped the bleeding with a yellow Iron Chloride wad. He didn't forget to pat the beautiful girl on the cheeks and furtively squeeze one of her firm breasts. Then he gave her some wine to drink, spoke to her, lightly in her ear.

The Hussar Lieutenant stooped, picked up the thing that had caused the damage, raised it high and looked at it from all sides.

There were all kinds of remarkable things hanging on the wall. There was a Kaneka Idol, half male and half female, colorfully painted with yellow and red stripes. Two old heavy and deformed riding boots hung there complete with impressive Spanish spurs. There were all sorts of rusty weapons as well.

On the gray wall was also pressed the Doctorate Diploma of some old Gontram from a Jesuit College in Seville. Near it hung a wonderful ivory crucifix inlaid with gold. On the other side was a large heavy Buddhist cross with a rose in the center carved out of green Jade. Right above that you could see the large tear in the wallpaper where the nail had torn its way out of the brittle plaster.

It was a brown dusty thing made of rock hard wooden root. It looked like an ancient wrinkled person.

"Oh, it's our Alraune!" Mrs. Gontram said. "It's just as well that it fell on Sophie, she has a hard skull! When Wolfchen was born I gave that disgusting manikin to him. I was certain he would be able to break it to pieces but he couldn't."

The Legal Councillor explained, "This has been in our family for over two hundred years now. It has done this once before. My grandfather told us that once in the night it sprang off the wall and fell on his head. He was completely drunk when it happened though, he always liked having a few drops to drink."

"What is it really?" The Hussar Lieutenant asked.

"Well, it brings gold into the house," answered Mr. Gontram. "It is an old legend. Manasse can tell you all about it. Come over here, Mr. Colleague, tell us Mr. History, what is the legend of the Alraune?"

But the little attorney didn't want to. "Why? Everyone knows it already!" "No one knows it, Mr. Attorney," the Lieutenant cried at him. "No one. Your learning greatly overshadows that of modern education."

"So tell us, Manasse," said Mrs. Gontram. "I always wanted to know what that ugly thing was good for."

He began. He spoke dryly, matter of factly, as if he were reading some piece out of a book. He spoke unhurried, scarcely raising his voice while swinging the root manikin back and forth in his right hand like a baton.

"Alraune, Albraune, Mandragora, also called Mandrake. Mandragora is its official name, a plant belonging to the Nightshade family. It is found around the Mediterranean, SouthEast Europe and Asia up to the Himalayas. Its leaves and flowers contain a narcotic that was used in ancient times as a sleeping potion and during operations at the illustrious medical college in Salerno, Italy. The leaves were smoked and the fruit made into a love potion. It stimulates lust and increases potency. The plant is named Dudaim in the Old Testament where Jacob used it to increase Labaan's flock of sheep.

The root plays the leading role in the saga of the Alraune because of its strange resemblance to an old male or female figurine. It was mentioned by Pythagoras and already in his time believed capable of making a person invisible. It was used for magick or the opposite, as a talisman against witchcraft.

The German Alraune story began in the early Middle Ages in connection with the crusades. Known criminals were hung stark naked from a gallows at a crossroads. At the moment their neck was broken they lost their semen and it fell to the earth fertilizing it and creating a male or female Alraune. It had to be dug out of the ground beneath the gallows when the clock struck midnight and you needed to plug your ears with cotton and wax or its dreadful screams would make you fall down in terror. Even Shakespeare tells of this.

After it is dug up and carried back home you keep it healthy by bringing it a little to eat at every meal and bathing it in wine on the Sabbath. It brings luck in peace and in war, is a protection against witchcraft and brings lots of money into the house. It is good for prophecy and makes its owner lovable. It brings women love magick, fertility and easy childbirth. It makes people fall madly and wildly in love with them.

Yet it also brings sorrow and pain where ever it is. The house where it stays will be pursued by bad luck and it will drive its owner to greed, fornication and other crimes before leading him at last to death and then to hell. Nevertheless, the Alraune is very beloved, much sought after and brings a high price when it can be found.

They say that Bohemian general Albrecht Wallenstein carried an Alraune around with him and they say the same thing about Henry the Eighth, the English King with so many wives."

The attorney became quiet, threw the hard piece of wood in front of him onto the table.

"Very interesting, really very interesting," cried Count Geroldingen. "I am deeply indebted to you for sharing that bit of information Mr. Attorney."

But Madame Marion declared that she would not permit such a thing in her house for even a minute and looked with frightened, believing eyes at the stiff bony face of Mrs. Gontram.

Frank Braun walked quickly back to the Privy Councillor. His eyes glowed; he gripped the old gentleman on the shoulder and shook it.

"Uncle Jakob," he whispered. "Uncle Jakob."

"What is it now boy?" The professor asked. He stood up and followed his nephew to the window.

"Uncle Jakob," the student repeated. "That's it! That's what you need to do! It's better than making stupid jokes with frogs, monkeys and little children! Do it Uncle Jakob, go a new way, where no one has gone before!"

His voice trembled, in nervous haste he blew a puff of smoke out from his cigarette.

"I don't understand a word you are saying," the Elder said.

"Oh, you must understand Uncle Jakob! Didn't you hear what he said? Create an Alraune, one that lives, one of flesh and blood! You can do it Uncle, you alone and no one else in the world."

The Privy Councillor looked at him uncertainly. But in the voice of the student lay such certainty, conviction and belief in his skill that he became curious against his will.

"Explain yourself more clearly Frank," he said. "I really don't know what you mean."

His nephew shook his head hastily, "Not now Uncle Jakob. I will escort you home with your permission. We can talk then."

He turned quickly, strode to the coffeepot, took a cup, emptied it and took another in quick gulps.

Sophia, the other girl, was trying to evade her comforter and Dr. Mohnen was running around here and there hyper as a cow's tail during fly season. His fingers felt the need to wash something, to pick something up. He took up the Alraune and rubbed it with a clean napkin trying to wipe the dust and grime away that clung to it in rings. It was useless; the thing had not been cleaned for over a century and would only get more napkins dirty. He was filled with the sense that something was not right. He swung it high and skillfully threw it into the middle of the large wine bowl.

"Drink Alraune," he cried. "You have been treated badly in this house and must certainly be thirsty!"

Then he climbed up on a chair and delivered a long solemn speech to the white robed virgins.

"I hope you can stay eternally as pure as you are tonight, " he finished.

He lied, he didn't want that at all. No one wished that, much less the two young ladies but they clapped with the others, went over to him, curtsied and thanked him.

Chaplain Schroder stood next to the Legal Councillor complaining powerfully that the date was nearing when the new Civil Law would go into effect. Less than ten more years and the Code of Napoleon would be gone and people in the Rheinland would have the same civil rights as over there in Prussia! It was absolutely unthinkable!

"Yes," sighed the Legal Councillor. "and all the work! A person has to learn everything all over again as if they don't have enough to do as it is."

He was completely indifferent on the basis that it would not effect him very much since he had studied the new laws already and had passed the exam, thank God!

The Princess left and took Mrs. Marion with her in her carriage. Olga stayed over with her friend again. They stood by the door and said goodbye to the others as they left, one after the other.

"Aren't you going too, Uncle Jakob?" The student asked.

"I must wait a bit," said the Privy Councillor. "My carriage is not here yet. It will be here in a moment."

Frank Braun looked out the window. There was the little widow, Mrs. Von Dollinger, going down the stairs nimble as a squirrel in spite of her forty years, down into the garden, falling down, springing back up. She ran right into a smooth tree trunk, wrapped her arms and legs around it and started kissing it passionately, completely drunk and senseless from wine and lust.

Stanislaus Schacht tried to untangle her but she held on like a beetle. He was strong and sober in spite of the enormous quantity of wine that he had drunk. She screamed as he pulled her away trying to stay clasped to the smooth tree trunk but he picked her up and carried her in his arms. Then she recognized him, pulled off his hat and started kissing him on his smooth bald head.

Now the Professor was standing, speaking some last words with the Legal Councillor.

"I'd like to ask a favor," he said. "Would you mind giving me the unlucky manikin?"

Mrs. Gontram answered before her husband could. "Certainly Mr. Privy Councillor. Take that nasty Alraune along with you! It is certainly something more for a bachelor!"

She reached into the large wine bowl and pulled out the root manikin but the hard wood hit the edge of the bowl knocking it over and it rolled to the floor with a loud crash that resounded through the room and the magnificent old crystal bowl broke into hundreds of crystal shards as the bowl's sweet contents spilled over the table and onto the floor.

"Holy Mother of God!" She cried out. "It is certainly good that thing is finally leaving my house!

		Chapter 2