At length Edgar halted. His limbs, his body trembled violently that he had to support himself against a tree. His breath came quickly and spasmodically. What was he to do? Where could he go? Impossible to remain here, almost within sight of the house which had been his temporary home. He was forsaken, helpless. The world was a harsh and unfeeling place. Even the trees which but yesterday afforded shelter from the sun and had clustered round him in brotherly affection, now stood aloof and looked down grimly. The unknown lay ahead of him. His loneliness amid the vastness of nature filled him with dread. Such solitude could not be borne, he must go somewhere and find a companion. He dared not seek out his father in Vienna, for Herr Blumental was a martinet and would insist upon Edgar’s prompt return to Semmering. This thought was intolerable. Better by far to be alone and to journey forth into the unexplored. He felt as if never again could he look his mother in the face without remembering that he had struck her with his fist.

But what about Grandma? She had always made much of him—such a kind old lady. Invariably she had been on his side when he had got into trouble at home. He could hide in her house in Baden until his parents’ anger had cooled off. From there he would write a long letter, begging Dad and Mummy to forgive him. All the pride had seeped out of him. He felt very small and helpless in the midst of this huge and antagonistic universe, and wanted nothing better than to become once again the child he had been a few days ago.

How did one get to Baden, he wondered. Pulling out a shabby purse which was his inseparable companion, he extracted a gold piece that had been given him for his birthday. How he had polished it every day with his grubby handkerchief, until it shone and shone again! He had never been able to make up his mind to spend it. Like a little sun it was. Lovely. Bright. Beautiful. Would it suffice to pay for his railway fare? Often and often he had travelled by train! Yet never had it entered his head to inquire how much a journey cost. For the first time in his short life he was up against reality. Things he had taken for granted apparently possessed a value of their own and could not be had for the asking. They needed to be paid for in hard cash. A short hour ago he thought himself so wonderfully clever, knowing all there was to know. But there were hundreds of problems and secrets that were a sealed book to him. He realized his shortcomings now. More and more did the sense of humiliation master him as he made his way to the station. Often and often he had dreamed of setting forth into the world to win his laurels, to become an emperor, a king, a famous soldier, a poet. Now that he had finally realized part of this dream, he felt exceeding small, and, as he fixed his eyes on the station building, his mind was wholly preoccupied with the question: “Shall I have enough to pay for my ticket?” The shining rails ran away into the infinite; not a soul could be seen on the platform or in the waiting-room. Edgar tiptoed up to the ticket office and asked softly and modestly how much it cost to go to Baden. A pair of surprised eyes looked through the little hole, and smiled not unkindly at the timid youngster.

“Half fare, or a whole?”

“Whole,” stammered Edgar, every atom of conceit punched out of him.

“Six crowns.”

“Please give me a ticket.”

He shoved the shining treasure across the diminutive counter, picked up the ticket and change. The piece of cardboard spelled freedom. He thrust the silver coins into his pocket, and listened well satisfied to the muffled clinking as they rattled together.

Only twenty minutes till the train was due. Edgar crept into a doorway so that no one should catch sight of him. A few passengers trailed in and wandered aimlessly about the platform. They failed to notice the runaway, though he himself felt as if all eyes were upon him. A whistle in the distance came as an immense relief to his suspense. Here was the train destined to convey him right away into the world. It was not until he had already stepped into a first-class carriage that he noticed he had been given a third-class ticket. So there were differences between travellers, he thought. Another initiation! His neighbours, when he had rectified his mistake, were a couple of Italian workmen, with calloused hands and rough voices. They had slung their tools on to the rack, and were sitting relaxed and listless. “They must have been working very hard, mused the child as one of them nodded off to sleep. I suppose they earned money for what they did. How much I wonder?”Money, then, was a thing one had to earn, that one was not automatically provided with. So far Edgar had taken his comfortable circumstances for granted, and had never given a thought to those abysses of misery which beset him on either hand. There were professions and trades to be followed, incomes to be earned—so many secrets he had never even noticed. He had learned much during his hour of solitude; and, as he cogitated these problems yet further and gazed at the fleeing landscape through the window, greater and greater illumination came to him. Gradually amid his gloomy anxiety, something seemed to grow, up and to blossom as he became conscious of the amazing kaleidoscope presented to him by life. He had run away because he was a coward and had been scared: true, but through his poltroonery he had come to taste the sweets of independence, he had come into contact with a reality he had hitherto completely ignored. Was he himself not just as great an enigma to his father and mother as the world had been to him? Quite possible. He saw with a new vision, as if manifold veils had been torn away from his eyes, as if the inside of things was being revealed to him, as if the secret of secrets was being disclosed. Houses flew past as though borne on the wings of the wind. Who were the people dwelling inside all these cottages and farmsteads, Edgar wondered. Were they rich or poor, happy or unhappy; were they full of uneasy longing as he was; did they want to know everything; were the children, like himself so far, merely playing with life? At the level crossings, the switchmen with their little flags were no longer the puppets he had always thought them, toy men, objects set up at those particular spots by chance. Edgar understood now that they had a function to perform, that they were fulfilling their destiny, had entered upon the struggle for life. The train gained in speed as it wound its way down the valley, leaving the high mountains behind. The contours were softened with the tender green of springtime. Only once did the fugitive look back at the high country he had left. The hills were blue distant, unattainable. As they receded more and more, and were swallowed up in the late afternoon fogs, it seemed to him that he had left childhood behind for ever in those remote and austere regions.

他跑得很远，后来在路边上停住了。他必须抓住一棵树，由于恐惧和激动，他的四肢还在剧烈地颤抖，大口地喘着粗气。他一手酿成的恐怖在后面追赶他，抓住了他的喉咙，把他摇来晃去，像发高烧似的。他现在该怎么办？逃到哪里去？这里，已经是镇外的森林中了，离他住的地方有一刻钟的路程，他有一种被遗弃的感觉。自从他孤立无援以来，这里的一切都好像变了样，显得更加充满敌意，更加令人憎恶。这些树木昨天还友好地对他沙沙作响，可现在却突然阴沉地咆哮起来，像是一种威胁。这一切，他眼前的一切还要变得更加陌生和疏远吗？面对着这广袤而生疏的世界，这种孤独感使孩子感到头晕目眩。不，他还不能承受这一切，他还不能单独承受这一切。可是他该逃到哪里去？回家去，他怕他父亲，他父亲很容易发火，很严厉，会立即把他送回来的。他不愿意回去，宁愿逃到危险的没有熟人的陌生地方去；他觉得他永远不能再见他母亲的面了，一见到就会想到他曾用拳头打过她。

这时他想起了祖母，这个和蔼慈祥的老人，从他小时候起就溺爱他，每当他做了错事受到责骂时，她总是他的保护者。他想到巴登去躲在她那里，等到父母亲火气消了，再从那里给他们写一封信，向他们赔礼。在这一刻钟的时间里，他是如此沮丧，只身处在这世界上，有的只是一双软弱无力的手。他诅咒他的傲慢——被一个陌生人用谎言所激起的他那愚蠢的傲慢，想重新做一个从前那样的孩子，听话、忍耐、不自负；他现在已经感觉到这种自负夸张到了多么可笑的程度。

可是怎么到巴登去？怎么翻过这山川河谷？他急忙用手掏了掏总是随身带着的钱包。上帝保佑，那个崭新的、二十克朗的金币还在熠熠闪亮，这是他生日的礼物。他一直舍不得把它花掉，几乎每天都要看看它是否还在。望着它他感到愉快，觉得自己很有钱，随后总是怀着一种温柔的心情用手帕把它擦得亮亮的，像个小太阳在闪光。但是这点钱够用吗？这个骤然袭来的念头使他感到惊慌。在他的生活中他经常乘坐火车，可从来没想过坐火车得付钱，也没想过要花多少钱，是一个克朗还是一百个克朗。他初次感受到，生活里有许多事过去想都没想过，他周围各种各样的事都有一种固有的价值，一种特殊的重量。他在一小时之前还自以为什么都懂，现在感到，在他不知不觉之中，千百个秘密和问题从他身旁溜了过去。他感到羞愧的是他那贫乏的智慧在他步入生活的第一个台阶时就无能为力了。他越来越胆怯。他往下面的车站走去，步子越来越小，越来越犹豫。他经常梦想这样的逃遁，想进入生活干番大事业，成为皇帝或国王，英雄或诗人。而现在他畏葸地望着那儿的一座明亮的小房子，心里想的只是一件事，那就是到祖母那里去这二十个克朗够不够。路轨闪着光亮通向远处，火车站空空荡荡，冷冷清清。埃德加胆怯地走近售票处，为了不让别人听到他的话，悄声地问，到巴登去的车票要多少钱。一张惊奇的脸从昏暗的隔板后往外望了望，两只眼睛在眼镜后面朝这个怯生生的孩子微笑着。

“一张整票？”

“对。”埃德加结结巴巴地说。一点也不傲慢了，直怕钱不够。

“六个克朗！”

“要一张！”

他轻松地把他所钟爱的那枚光滑的金币递了上去，多余的钱找了回来。埃德加一下子觉得自己又十分富有了，他现在手上有了这张能够保证他自由的棕色车票，而他口袋里的银币则在发出沉浊的乐声。

从行车时刻表上他知道火车再过二十分钟就到了。埃德加躲到一个角落里。有几个人悠闲自在地站在站台上。可在这个不安的孩子看来，仿佛所有的人都在注视着他，似乎大家都感到奇怪，怎么这么小的一个孩子独自乘火车；他越来越往角落里缩，仿佛他的额头上明显地贴着逃跑和罪行这两条标记似的。他终于听到了火车从远处发出的长鸣声，随后就隆隆地驶近，这时他松了一口气。这列车将把他带入世界。上车时他才发现，他买的是三等车厢的票。过去，他从来都是坐头等车厢。他又觉得，这里的情形不一样，他遇到了各种各样的事。他周围的乘客都和以前的不一样，他的正对面是几个意大利工人，手很粗糙，声音沙哑，手里拿着铁锤和铲子，他们用迟钝而愁苦的眼睛望着前面。显而易见，他们在路上干了不少累活，因为几个人十分疲倦，在隆隆的列车上睡着了，张着嘴，倚在又脏又硬的靠板上。埃德加想，他们为了挣钱而去做工，但不知他们能挣多少钱。他又一次感到，钱不是一种常有的东西，得想办法去挣。现在他第一次意识到，他以往理所当然地习惯的是舒适的气氛，而他生活的两旁，左边和右边，却是黑洞洞的、看不到底的深渊。这是他的目光过去从没有觉察到的。他第一次知道了有各种职业，有各种规定，他周围有各种秘密，离他很近，可就从来没有注意过。自从埃德加单独一个人以来，这一小时他就学到了许多东西，他开始将目光透过这狭窄的车厢的窗户，瞭望外面的大千世界。在他那晦暝的恐惧之中有某种东西正开始在悄悄地滋长，这虽然还不是幸福，但却是对丰富多彩的生活的一种惊叹。在每一瞬间，他都感觉到，他的出逃是由于恐惧和怯懦，但这是他第一次独立行动，从现实中来体验以往从他身边一掠而过的一切。他也许第一次成了他父母亲的秘密，正如这个世界从前对他是个秘密一样。他用另一种目光望着窗外。他觉得仿佛第一次看到这现实中的一切，仿佛事物外面罩着的轻纱抖落了，向他展示了一切，展示了事物意向的内蕴、它们活动的秘密神经。路旁的房舍像被风刮走似的飞驶而过，他不由得想到了住在里面的那些人，不论他们是穷是富，幸或不幸，不论他们是不是像他一样渴望知道一切，也不论那儿有没有像他一样把什么事都当作游戏的孩子。他第一次觉得，站在路旁挥动小旗的护路工人并非是活动木偶和没有生命的玩具，并非可以任意搁置的物件，而他从前却是这样想的；他懂了，他的命运就是同生活作斗争。车轮滚得越来越快，现在列车沿蛇形线冲下山去，群山变得越来越矮小，越来越遥远，车已进入了平原地带。他再次回头瞭望，群山与蓝天渐渐交融，只是依稀可辨，遥不可及。埃德加觉得，他的童年就要慢慢消散在那雾蒙蒙的天际了。