Telegrams of the Soul

Day of Affluence

I wanted just once for a half day to live the life of a rich man. I arranged to have myself picked up at my place by a ravishing lady and her husband in their Mercedes. I was driven to my barber, on Teinfaltstrasse, to rejuvenate myself, especially with a splash of the menthol-scented French brandy cologne on the head. An ersatz for any cold bath! Then we drove to Baden. There we took baths in the Kurhaus private tubs, 24 degrees Celsius. Then we had them unlock cool hotel rooms and slept for a good half hour. Then we ate Solo asparagus and fricasseed calves’ brains. Then we drove on to Heiligenkreuz. In a cool hall we sipped steaming hot tea with lemon. We dashed back home in the evening.

The meadows wafted sweetly and the forest stood black and motionlessly melancholic beneath the still light of the evening sky.

In Vienna I said goodbye.

Seated in the Café Ritz I spotted that young woman whom I have long found pleasing to look at. Brown hair, blue straw hat, upturned nose. I wanted to bring the day to a festive conclusion. So I sent her three wonderfully dark roses and an egg punch, the favorite drink of most women of her kind. She graciously accepted, exceptionally.

Then she came over to my table and said:

“Does it really give you such a great pleasure to pay your respects to me?”

“Yes, indeed, or else I wouldn’t do it!”

“Well, then, I don’t even have to thank you for it—!?”

“No, not at all, the pleasure is all mine!”

That was my day of affluence.