WILHELM GUSTLOFF - DIANNA DIVERNO

MEETING DEATH

INTRODUCTION
The long driveway to the large, country house of Baron Herman was in the snow, but even that winter drowsiness did not make the landscape less interesting. The trees were bare, rattled to equal lengths, lined up in a tree line, the road to the house was sprinkled with fine, gray sand so that the road could be walked on comfortably. And the big country house on three floors and all in stone somehow rose in a mountainous way at the end of the road.
He drive a car, whose tires were slipping and with a deafening noise (so that a flock of birds in the trees rose to the sky and fled). For a moment it seemed as if the driver, who was obviously drunk, had lost control of the steering wheel. The tires slipped for a moment, the car swerved and headed for the tree. About ten centimeters from the tree, the car managed to turn and the driver stopped. There was silence for a moment. The car started again, the engine roared and the driver continued to drive more carefully towards the country house to stop in front of the entrance.
- Damn it - the man jumped out of the car - and that stupid, stupid ice - as in some agony, he ran two laps around the car, looking carefully at the sheet metal, but nothing was destroyed and to his relief there was not a single scratch.
He wiped the peas of sweat that appeared on his forehead at that moment. He headed for the door, watching her walk on the ice. He knocked on the door several times, until a uniformed servant, Mrs. Susanna, opened it for her.
She is short, stocky, she worked for Baron Herman for two decades and was about to retire. She had a round face and bright eyes, curly hair and always acted stern.
- Good afternoon, Mr. Schiffer - she greeted him cheerfully and bowed briefly. - Baron Herman is expecting you.
Norman Schiffer stepped inside into a well-known, well-kept hallway. He seemed to be in a hurry, although he had nowhere else to go but to Baron Herman's office and reception room.
The hallway was beautiful, paved with superbly decorated walls, a proper selection of art paintings on the wall, flowers and large windows with white curtains. The Christmas tree that was decorated for the holidays was still here. Although she didn't have a single ball now, she was in the corner of the hallway. Any visitor to the house could simply notice it.
Baron Herman loved the smell of the pine forest, watching the Christmas tree in the corner, until the needles began to fall from the branches.
As he followed Mrs. Sussana, he looked at the Christmas tree in the corner and saw the needles dropping heavily on the floor. He smiled.
- He was expecting you an hour ago - Mrs. Susanna said.
- I know. And that stupid ice - he mumbled angrily, realizing that ice can be anything but stupid.
They finally reached Baron Herman's office and Mrs. Susanna let the young man in, having previously announced it.
Baron Herman sat at the stove, deep in thought. He moved the pipe from one end of his lips to the other.
- So, Norman, you're here.
Norman Schiffer smiled with a mangup smile, then leaned back in his chair. The spoiled and elongated mangup, as he usually was, just crossed his legs and took a snuffbox in his hands, which he did not open, but played with it as if he were playing with a ball in his hands.
- Alive and well. I need to get to you, Baron Herman. So much ice on the driveway.
The older gentleman took a pipe from his lips.
- Ice? But we sprinkled.
- Some places are slipping, I almost crashed the car.
- Come on, Norman - the older gentleman laughed - you're a little drunk after all, which is not good, it's still day. - And that - he looked at his watch - two hours had passed, and you were already cursed - he laughed throatily so that Mrs. Susanna could certainly hear him, even though she was in the kitchen at the time.
- I'm not drunk. It's just a horrible trip. And it's cold. You weren't out today, Mr. Herman, or you'd know the weather was awful. Probably the coldest January I know.
Mr. Herman shrugged, but the mocking expression on his face, which he often had, did not leave his face even now.
- You're exaggerating young Norman. You a little more, so you're traveling! Imagine how cold it is on the Baltic Sea where you will set sail. Well, since it is always finer than it would be normal for someone your age, you will surely freeze already at the first gust of wind. Not to mention the rest, even when you're sailing past an iceberg. You're going to be ice! He smiled.
The young man did not pay attention to the usual teasing of the older man and continued to play with the snuffbox.
- When are you leaving?
- The day after tomorrow.
- And you're sure it's a smart choice?
- It won't be a smart choice to stay here, as far as I know, Mr. Herman, you won't be here either?
The older gentleman continued to smoke the pipe.

(2012)