The Perfectionist

Chapter Nineteen

Dawn approached the monastery, as the fatigued Nurse Sarah approached the cab to her home. Dieter, in the meantime, stood before a small mirror in the cell, and studied his new, worldly clothes. It was not yet light, and some candles had been lit by Brother Johann. They were to attend the morning mass, and afterwards Dieter was to be taken by a cab, scheduled to arrive at 6 am, to the Wurzburg station. Brother Pieter, the night before, had collected a few items (namely the book that Dieter had chosen, the Bible, two lavender twigs- he said it was a delight to always have God's plants by one's side- and a short rosary) and had tied over the pile a threadbare fabric, forming a bundle. Before the two friends departed from their cell, the candles extinguished, Dieter stopped once more before the small hung painting, barely visible in the half-darkness, and whispered: ''J'espère que je deviendrai comme toi, Jeanne, un jour.'' Then, turning round, he picked up the bundle from where it lay on the table, and they walked on to the chapel.

It felt strange to him to pray in worldly clothes, and to be the only one doing so, but none of his brothers had minded it very much, and his discomfort was gradually lessened both by the brothers' kind allowance, and by the talkative owl's faint hoots. As they filed out of the chapel, most of the monks had accompanied him to the main gate, where they all waited. Some others, however, had gone on to breakfast, and, it seemed, they had still not been able to reconcile themselves with him. However, the majority of the brothers were with him, and he was nevertheless happy in their presence. Some beggars, curious as to what was happening and delighted to be in Brother Johann's presence, had stayed with him also, and at the corner of his eye he saw Frau Marta, Kurt, and Emil. Frau Marta regarded him with concerned wonder, not able to figure out the reason behind his abrupt change of attire and his departure, but stayed silent, and cradled the child in her arms. Kurt was as puzzled as his wife, though too decided to maintain a respectful silence, and raised his hat when Dieter caught sight of them. Only Emil broke their silence, by exclaiming: ''You're not wearing a dress, Brother Dieter.''
''Emil!'' his mother protested, ''It is not a dress, but a habit. A monastic habit. It does not do to pry.''
''No problem at all, no problem,'' Dieter responded, and he bent down to Emil, ''I have to go somewhere. I will be back soon. You won't forget me, will you?''
''Maybe, I don't know.'' Emil responded with a smile, and with his arms around Dieter's neck, ''If you take too long, I will forget you.''
''Emil!'' his mother protested again.
But Dieter only laughed, kissed Emil, and rose back up.

The horn of a car disturbed the tranquil solitude of the early morning, and as the abbot unlocked the gate, he beheld a quaint black cab waiting directly before him on the road. Dieter gulped, and went quickly round to his brothers, shaking each hand and bidding each a heartfelt adieu. Once he had gone round to Brother Pieter, who was already in tears, they shook hands cordially, and each did the sign of the cross over the other.
''God go with you, precious Dieter! God go with you!''

After him were Brother Johann, who hugged him tightly, then Brothers Karl and Heinrich and Wolfgang, and then came all the rest. He was on the verge of tears, but managed to bid each adieu with as much friendship and veneration as was in him at the time. He looked into each lovely, sad face and felt a pure happiness overtake him at having known them and loved them, at having lived with them and experienced joy with them. Then, having finished the round of the monks, he turned to the others present: the men raised their hats, the children stared, the women waved their handkerchiefs, before Dieter was met with two common men at the gates.
''Brother Dieter Siedemann?'' one called out.
''That's me.'' Dieter answered nervously.
''The train leaves in three hours, to Frankfurt main station. We are to drive you there, and there you will meet an escort. He will board the train with you, and drive you to Dr Bergmann's clinic in Frankfurt. Do you have any questions?''
''No, sir.'' Dieter's nervousness had increased as the man spoke, and he turned to his friends one last time.

Every face was pained with sympathy for him, and not only Brother Pieter, leaning on Brother Adelmo's shoulder, was crying. The abbot among them said, with a soft tone: ''On we go, then, Brother Dieter. And God go with you.''
''Yes, God go with you! God go with you!'' resounded from all over the group, and some faces winced with emotion.

Dieter nodded, and turned from them. He walked out the gates with the two men, and hesitantly entered the cab. As it drove away, he turned to the rear window, and gazed with desperation at the crowded gate, to see the monks waving him goodbye. He waved back, overwhelmed to tears with nervousness, happiness, and sadness, until they were too small and obscure. Their disappearance had saddened him, he missed them already, and it took a long time, staring at the empty road, before he wearily retired back to his seat. The trees rushed past the car, swaying in the wind as if also to wave him goodbye, the faint half-moon followed him swiftly as if to keep his lonely self company, the sky lightened by the minute as if encouraging him to do as it does, and the dark, distant horizon of Wurzburg crept slowly towards him, as if to warn him of the upcoming uncertainties it bore. He thought of increasing distance again, he thought of the train that was to take him, he thought of seeing the accordion player and his timid daughter, he thought of the villages and thick forests that were to flit past him again, he thought of the Greats that had so motivated him, and, finally, he thought of his deliverance from three vile dooms. On this he contemplated hard. He clutched the bundle in his hand, a token of his known world, and, sniffing away, he turned his head to the open window.

He loved the old raindrops on the half-opened window, he loved the quick, fleeing trees and the just-waking flowers before them, he loved the chattering birds, he loved the generous moon, and they all seemed to love him back, and wish him good luck on his journey. Then, closing his eyes, he felt the cold air, and, smiling amidst his tears, he remembered his loving and forgiving God.

THE END