Hello again! Here's chapter six ^_^

            I hope you'll like it!

            Many thanks to Franziska and Elizabeth once again...

Disclaimers: I don't own TSOM at all and I don't own Les Thibault by Roger Martin du Gard either... I didn't write it but it's my very favourite novel I have read at least once a year for ten years now... If you know a bit of French, if an English translation does exist, run and find it! ^_^

Vienna, June 22th 1937, late at night

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

The Captain woke up screaming, sweet covering his face and body. THAT nightmare again... Instinctively, he reached for the chain he wore night and day around his neck like a talisman... Friedrich... He was breathing heavily, trying to calm down a little... That one had been so vivid, still...

Where the hell was he? He did not recognize the room immediately. A few moments ago, he was sure he was back on that ship and here he was now in this dark unknown room. Still breathing heavily, he became more aware of his surroundings little by little. He was in that hotel in Vienna. He had come here to visit Elsa who had written him a few days ago. He got out the bed, still shaking, and went to the bathroom, hoping that a cold shower would help him to calm down.

He stood a long while in the tub, cold water running along his body, waking him up completely, helping him to go back to reality. His mind was clear now. He had not had that nightmare for so many years. So, why did he dream about the event he wanted to forget with all his might tonight? Why? "Lemme alone!" he whispered furiously between his clenched teeth, hitting the wall of the tub with his fists several times. Then, it hit him, all of a sudden. The end of the nightmare had been the usual one, he was kneeling of the shattered deck of the ship, covered with blood, screaming helplessly. However, he could remember now the rest of nightmare had been quite unusual, mixing oddly remembrances about the kid and flashes about that nun, Fräulein Maria...

Salzburg, von Trapp's villa, June 22th 1937, late at night

"MANI, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

Maria woke up suddenly, tears filling her eyes. She shot quickly a circular glance at her surroundings. She was not in Vienna anymore but in the luxurious von Trapp villa. It had been just a dream. Just a bad dream. She had not dreamed about that time for a long while. She had been so scared to lose him too, then. Why was she thinking about that tonight, of all time? It had been so many years ago... It was over, now. She had gone on with her life as he told her to. So, why?

Actually, this horrible nightmare was just the climax of a bad day during which she tried to hide her sudden melancholy to the children with all her might. For years, June 22th had been such a hard day for her, haunting her endlessly at first. However, as time went on, she managed to hide it, to forget it. At least, it was what she thought. But when she got up today, she could not help to let her mind wandering in the remembrance of that fateful day. She had to admit that the wound had not healed at all. However, she had not the right to worry the children with her internal conflict so she tried to be as cheerful as usual; those poor little ones had so many problems to deal with on their own! She had done quite well, in fact, and they had not seemed to notice anything. After their morning lesson, Maria had taken them to the mountains where they had had a wonderful picnic once again. They liked those outside activities so much, and she was more than willing to show them as many interesting spots in the region of Salzburg as she could during the Captain's absence...

Nevertheless that nightmare was troubling her a lot.  She thought the life in the convent would help her to find the peace she had seemed to need so desperately since her young years. She had given up searching for happiness long ago; all she was asking for now was peace. Was that such a big thing to look for? It apparently was. However, she did not ask for that much. Reaching peace for her wounded heart and mind in the convent then helping those who were not as fortunate as she was, the von Trapp children for instance, was that such an extravagant wish? Unable to answer these endless questions, she laid again in her bed, trying to go back to sleep. Nonetheless, as she closed her eyes once again, she could not help to wonder why, in her dream, Mani had Captain von Trapp's face...

Vienna, June 22th 1937, late at night

The cold shower had calmed him down a bit but Georg knew that he would not be able to find sleep again at all. "Seems I'm up for another sleepless night," he thought bitterly.

Flashback

Two days ago, he had bought the latest volume of the French novel Les Thibault by Roger Martin du Gard. His regular trips to Vienna were an occasion to purchase foreign books he never missed since he was not able to find them in Salzburg. He had waited for the release of that particular one for more than two years and, as soon as he had the volume in his pocket, he reached for the terrace of a café then resumed reading, totally oblivious of his surroundings. L'Eté 1914 was a piece of masterwork: to Georg's mind, nobody had described the absurdity that led people of Europe to such a nightmare. Broken dreams were all it was about. He really did not know why this very idea was so painful for him those days, as if something was slipping through his fingers, as if he was taking a path that would lead him to his final destruction... Just like Jacques, the rebel and idealistic son of proud Oscar Thibault... He had been so absorbed in his reading that, not wanting to stop at all, he cancelled his obligations for the evening on the prestext he had a headache or something like that. Then, he had read the whole night, not able to stop, reading some particular pages again and again...

End of flashback

"All the States are afraid. Austria is afraid of the Slavs; and is afraid of compromising its prestige. Russia is afraid of the Germans; and is afraid that its passivity would be interpreted as a sign of weakness. Germany is afraid of being invaded by the Cossacks; and is afraid of being surrounded. France is afraid of Germany's armament, and Germany only arms itself as a precaution and because it is afraid...*"

He could not help to think that this explanation of World War I was utterly accurate to describe the current situation in Europe now. Each State, each individual was afraid of his neighbour, of his own shadow, of his own demons. Just like him. The only difference was that he, Georg von Trapp, did not want to make other people responsible for his own misery. He always dealt with his problems alone and always would.

Deciding that all this endless abstract pondering was vain, he tried to put some order in his ideas and took some sheet of paper, beginning to write the remembrances of the nightmare down.

As far as I can remember, that nightmare was divided into two perfectly distinct parts. The first one is the more confusing. The second one is simply  a reminiscence of Friedrich's death in 1915. I  had thought I would become crazy after that day but I managed to go on, concentrating at first on my duties as a newly-promoted Captain of a submarine. Nonetheless, the remembrance never left me completely, haunting me at night as a recurrent nightmare. It's always the same. I'm standing on the deck in the middle of a fight with the French Navy in the Adriatic sea. Shells are rampaging the ship. Then, there is the Captain, calling for us. We're trying to join him. I can't run as fast as Friedrich since my knee is aching horribly, but I manage to follow him nevertheless. Then, there is that huge explosion. I'm violently projected backwards. When I regain consciousness, I notice I'm covered with blood, but it's not mine. I look up. He's gone. I creep to the place where he was standing a few moments ago. There's nothing left but his chain... I yell.

The most horrible side of that dream is that its realistic precision never faded as years went on. I just noticed that again tonight, I guess.

However, the strangest aspect of the whole nightmare is its connexion to my life during the year following the end of the war, when I looked after that little girl, Maria Patocka. More confusing still, in that dream, at times, she's not a little girl anymore, but a grown up young woman with Fräulein Maria looks. I really don't know why...

First, there is that scene when I took Maria Patocka (note to myself : even if it's strange to call the kid like that, I'm writing down her full name in order to be more clear, well, I'm trying to...!) in town in order to buy her some clothes since she seemingly was going to stay with me a little while. Her eyes were shining with pure delight as she was looking at the dresses... Then, there is that day when she made me play tin whistle for hours, especially loving my terrible interpretation of the 4th and 5th Hungarian Dances composed by Brahms (note to myself :fortunately the man never heard what I made out of his compositions...). However, Maria P. didn't seem to mind it at all and kept on asking for it... The following scene is quite disturbing. Maria P. and I are attending to a party arranged by my crew. They begin to play an Irish jig and Maria P. asks me to dance with her, even if she's too little! Moments later, we're still dancing, but Maria P. became suddenly Fräulein Maria... She is radiating with joy and I can't do anything but staring at her. Then come the MOST disturbing part. It's day when the old man was murdered (I learnt later that he was a red syndicalist.  God, or anybody else, rest his soul...). Everything happens like it had been in reality. But, instead of reaching for Maria P., I take Fräulein Maria in my arms and begin to kiss her... Damn I'm a total jerk! I noticed last week that this nun has an effect on me, but to that extend...! Then, without any transition, I'm on the deck of the ship and the second part of the nightmare begins...

I don't understand at all why I had this dream. If I had drunk myself into a stupor before going to bed, it would be an explanation maybe. "But I didn't – so I simply cannot understand why I had this weird dream…"

Georg stopped suddenly writing and put his pen down, thinking. "I really am going nuts..." he whispered bitterly. Tomorrow, he was due to attend to a dinner organized by Elsa, then the day after, they would go to a concert of the Philharmonic Orchestra. In a nutshell, Elsa already had planned each minutes of his trip in Vienna. How he longed to come back to his mountains! Life in Vienna was killing him. He had to smile and talk to people he despised, to hear opinions which made him want to break anything at hand and that drove him crazy. He hoped ardently that Elsa would like the peaceful life of Salzburg...But there was a problem there... She was there... He had to get rid of her before he did anything stupid... Nevertheless, deep in his heart, he did not know if he really did want to get rid of her, if really wanted to go on playing the perfect and aristocratic character he had built up for years.


*This extract is a free translation of : Roger Martin du Gard, Les Thibault IV, L'été 1914, Paris, Folio Gallimard, 1987 (first edition 1936), p. 16.