bridgewastoberepaired,andcomplicatedscaffoldingwaserectednearthepiers
and on the bridge itself windlass lifts were set up; by their help the workers movedupanddownthepiersasonsomenarrowwoodenbalconyandstoppedat
places where there was a hole or where tufts of grass had grown out of the
stonework.
Every hole was plugged, the grasses plucked out and the birds' nests removed.
Whentheyhadfinishedthistask,workbeganonthewaterloggedfoundationsof
thebridge.Thecurrentwascheckedanditscoursealteredsothattheblackened
andcorrodedstonecouldbeseen,togetherwithanoccasionaloakbeam,worn
awaybutpetrifiedbythewatersinwhichithadbeenplaced330years before.
Theindefatigableliftsloweredcementandgravel,loadafterload,andthethree
central piers which were the most exposed to the strong current and the most
corrodedwerefilledinatthebasesasarottentoothisfilledatitsroot.
Thatsummertherewerenosessionsonthe kapia andthecustomarylifearound
the bridge was suspended. The bridge was crowded with horses and carts
bringing sand and cement. The shouts of the workmen and the orders of the foremen echoed from all sides. On the kapia itself a wooden toolshed was
erected.
Thetownsmenwatchedtheworkonthegreatbridge,astonishedandperplexed.
Somemadeajestofit,othersonlywavedtheirarmsandwenttheirway,andto
all of them it seemed that the foreigners were doing this work, as they did all
other work, only because they must work at something. Work for them was a
necessity and they could not do otherwise. No one said this, but everybody
thoughtit.
All those who had been accustomed to pass their time on the kapia now sat outsideLotte'shotel,Zarije'sinnorinfrontofthewoodendoor-shuttersofthe
shops near the bridge. There they drank coffee and told stories, waiting until
the kapia shouldbefreeagainandthatattackonthebridgeshouldpass,asaman
waitsfortheendofashowerorsomeotherinconvenience.
In front of Alihodja's shop which was sandwiched between the Stone Han and
Zarije'sinn,wherethebridgecouldbeseenfromanangle,twoTurkssatfrom
earlymorning,twohangers-oninthemarketplace,chattingabouteverythingand
moreespeciallyaboutthebridge.
Alihodjalistenedtotheminill-humouredsilence,pensivelywatchingthebridge
whichwasswarmingwithworkmenlikeants.
In those twenty years the hodja had married three times. Now he had a wife muchyoungerthanhimselfandmalicioustonguessaidthatthatwasthereason
he was always ill-humoured until noon. By these three wives he had fourteen
children. His house was filled with a noisy crowd all day long and in the
marketplacetheysaidinjestthatthe hodja didnotknowallhisownchildrenby
name.Theyeventoldastoryofhowoneofhisnumerousbroodmetthe hodja in
asidestreetandtookhishandtokissit,butthe hodja onlystrokedhisheadand
asked:'Godgiveyougoodhealth,son!Andwhosemayyoube?'
To the eye the hodja had not changed greatly; only he was now plumper and redderintheface.Henolongermovedsobrisklyandwenthomeupthatsteep
slopetoMejdanmoreslowlythanbefore,forhishearthadbeentroublinghim
for some time, even when he was asleep. He had therefore gone to the district
doctor, Dr Marovski, the only one of the newcomers whom he recognized and
respected. The doctor gave him some drops which did not cure his ills, but
helped him to bear them, and from him Alihodja learnt the Latin name for his
complaint: anginapectoris.
AlihodjawasoneofthefewlocalTurkswhohadacceptednoneofthenovelties
and changes which the newcomers had brought, either in dress, in customs, in
speechorinmethodsoftradeandbusiness.Withthatsamebitterobstinacywith
whichhehadatonetimestoodoutagainstuselessresistance,hehadforyears
stood out against everything that was Austrian and foreign and against
came into conflict with others and had had to pay fines to the police. Now he
wasalittletiredanddisillusioned,buthewasessentiallyjustthesameashehad
beenwhenhehadarguedwithKaramanlionthe kapia, obstinate in everything
and at all times; save that his proverbial freedom of speech had turned to
sharpness and his fighting spirit into a sullen bitterness which even the most
daringwordscouldnotexpressandwhichwascalmedandextinguishedonlyin
silenceandinsolitude.
Withtimethe hodja hadfallenmoreandmoreintoasortofcalmmeditationin
which he had no need of anyone else and found all men hard to endure.
Everyone,theidlemerchantsofthemarketplace,1hiscustomers,hisyoungwife
and all that horde of urchins which filled his house with noise, irritated him.
Beforethesunrosehefledfromhishousetohisshopwhichheopenedbefore
any of the other merchants. There he carried out his morning devotions. There
hislunchwasbroughttohim.Andwhen,duringtheday,conversation,visitors
andbusinessboredhim,heputupthewoodenshuttersandwithdrewintoatiny
closet behind the shop which he called his coffin. That was a secret place,
narrow,lowanddark;the hodja almostfilleditwhenhecrawledin.Hehadthere
asmallstoolcoveredwitharugonwhichhecouldsitwithcrossedlegs,afew
shelveswithemptyboxes,oldscalesandallsortsofrubbishforwhichtherewas
noroomintheshop.Inthatnarrowdarkholethe hodja couldhearthroughthe
thin walls of his shop the hum of life in the marketplace, the sound of horses'
hoovesandthecriesofthesellers.Allthatcametohimasfromanotherworld.
He could hear too some of the passers-by who stopped before his closed shop
and made malicious jokes and comments about him. But he listened to them
calmly, for to him these men were dead and had not realized it; he knew and
forgot them in the same moment. Hidden behind those few planks, he felt
himself completely protected from all that this life could bring him, this life
which in his opinion had long become rotten and proceeded along evil ways.
Therethe hodja shuthimselfinwithhisthoughtsonthedestinyoftheworldand
the course of human affairs, and forgot all else, the marketplace, his worries
about debts and bad tenants, his too young wife whose youth and beauty had suddenly turned into a stupid and malicious ill-humour, and that brood of
children which would have been a heavy burden on an Emperor's treasury and
aboutwhichhethoughtonlywithhorror.
After he had recovered his spirits and rested there, the hodja would again take downhisshuttersasifhehadjustcomebackfromsomewhere.
Sonowhelistenedto
theemptychatterofhistwoneighbours.
'YouseenowhowthetimesareandthegiftsofGod;timeeatsawayevenstone
likethesoleofashoe.ButtheSchwabeswillnothaveitsoandatoncemend
whatisdamaged,'philosophizedoneofthem,awell-knownlazybonesfromthe
marketplace,ashesippedAlihodja'scoffee.
'WhiletheDrinaistheDrinathebridgewillbethebridge.Eveniftheyhadnot
touchedit,itwouldlastitsappointedtime.Allthisexpenseandallthistrouble
willservethemnothing,'saidtheotherguest,ofthesameoccupationasthefirst.
They would have dragged on their idle chatter indefinitely had not Alihodja
interrupted.
'AndItellyouthatnogoodwillcomeoftheirinterferingwiththebridge.You
willsee,nothinggoodwillcomeofallthisrestoration.Whattheyrepairtoday
theywillteardownagaintomorrow.ThelatelamentedMulaIbrahimusedtotell
me that he had learnt from ancient books that it is a great sin to meddle with
living water, to turn its course aside or change it, were it even for a day or an hour.ButtheSchwabesdonotfeelthemselvesaliveunlesstheyarehammering
orchisellingsomethingorother.Theywouldturnthewholeworldupsidedown
iftheycould!'
Thefirstoftheidlerstriedtoshowthat,whenallwassaidanddone,itwasnot
sobadthattheSchwabesshouldrepairthebridge.Ifitdidnotprolongitslifeit
wouldatanyratedoitnoharm.
'Andhowdoyouknowthattheywilldoitnoharm?'the hodja brokeinangrily.
'Whotoldyou?Don'tyouknowthatasinglewordcandestroywholecities;how
muchmorethensuchababel!AllthisearthofGod'swasbuiltuponaword.If
youwereliterateandeducated,asyouarenot,thenyouwouldknowthatthisis
not a building like any other, but one of those erected by God's will and for
God's love; a certain time and certain men built it, and another time and other
menwilldestroyit.YouknowwhattheoldmensayabouttheStoneHan;there
was none other like it in the Empire. Yet who destroyed it? Had it been a question of its solidity and the skill of its construction it would have lasted a thousandyears;yetithasmeltedawayasifithadbeenmadeofwaxandnowon
theplacewhereitwasthepigsgruntandtheSchwabes'trumpetsounds.'
'But,asIthink,Ibelieve...'theidlerreplied.
'You believe wrongly,' interrupted the hodja. 'According to your ideas nothing would ever have been built and nothing destroyed. That has never occurred to
you.ButItellyouthatallthisisnotgood,itforetellsevil,forthebridgeandfor
thetownandforallofuswhoarelookingatitwithourowneyes.'
'Heisright.The hodja knows best what the bridge is,' broke in the other idler, maliciouslyrecallingAlihodja'sonetimemartydomonthe kapia.
'Youneedn'tthinkthatIdon'tknow,'saidthe hodja withconvictionandatonce
began, quite calmly to tell one of his stories at which the townsfolk used to
mock,buttowhichtheylovedtolistentimeandtimeagain.
'AtonetimemylatelamentedfatherheardfromSheikDedijeandtoldmeasa
child how bridges first came to this world and how the first bridge was built.
When Allah the Merciful and Compassionate first created this world, the earth
wassmoothandevenasafinelyengravedplate.Thatdispleasedthedevilwho
envied man this gift of God. And while the earth was still just as it had come
fromGod'shands,dampandsoftasunbakedclay,hestoleupandscratchedthe
faceofGod'searthwithhisnailsasmuchandasdeeplyashecould.Therefore,
the story says, deep rivers and ravines were formed which divided one district
fromanotherandkeptmenapart,preventingthemfromtravellingonthatearth
thatGodhadgiventhemasagardenfortheirfoodandtheirsupport.AndAllah
felt pity when he saw what the Accursed One had done, but was not able to
returntothetaskwhichthedevilhadspoiledwithhisnails,sohesenthisangels
to help men and make things easier for them. When the angels saw how
unfortunatemencouldnotpassthoseabyssesandravinestofinishtheworkthey
had to do, but tormented themselves and looked in vain and shouted from one
sidetotheother,theyspreadtheirwingsabovethoseplacesandmenwereable
to cross. So men learned from the angels of God how to build bridges, and
therefore, after fountains, the greatest blessing is to build a bridge and the
greatest sin to interfere with it, for every bridge, from a tree trunk crossing a mountainstreamtothisgreaterectionofMehmedPasha,hasitsguardianangel
who cares for it and maintains it as long as God has ordained that it should
stand.'
'Soitis,soitis,byGod'swill!'thetwoidlersmarvelledhumbly.
Sotheypassedtheirtimeinconversation,asthedayspassedandtheworkwent
on there on the bridge, whence they could hear the squeaking of carts and the
poundingofmachinesmixingsandandcement.
Asalways,inthisdiscussiontoo,the hodja hadthelastword.Noonewantedto
press an argument with him to the end, least of all those two idle and empty-
headedfellowswhodranktheircoffeethereandknewwellthatthenextdayalso
theywouldhavetopassagoodpartoftheirlongdayinfrontofhisshop.
So Alihodja talked to everyone who stopped before the shutters of his shop,
whetheronbusinessorjustmakingacall.Theyalllistenedtohimwithmocking
curiosity and apparent attention, but no one in the town shared his opinions or
had any understanding of his pessimism or his forebodings of evil, which he
himselfwasunabletoexplainortosupportbyproof.Furthermoretheyhadfor
longbeenaccustomedtolookonthe hodja asaneccentricandanobstinateman
who now, under the influence of ripening years, difficult circumstances and a
youngwife,sawtheblacksideofeverythingandgaveeverythingaspecialand
ill-omenedsignificance.
Thetownspeoplewere,forthemostpart,indifferenttotheworkonthebridge,
astheyweretowardseverythingwhichthenewcomershadbeendoingforyears
inandaboutthetown.Onlythechildrenweredisappointedwhentheysawthat
the workmen with their wooden ladders went in through that black opening in
thecentralpier,that'room'inWhichbyuniversalchildishbelieftheArablived.
From this place the workmen brought out and tipped into the river countless
baskets of birds' droppings. And that was all. The Arab never appeared. The
childrenmadethemselveslateforschool,waitingvainlyforhoursfortheblack
mantoemergefromhisdarknessandstrikethefirstworkmaninhispath,strike
himsostronglythathewouldflyfromhismovingscaffoldinginagreatcurve
into the river. They were furious that this had not happened, and some of the
urchins tried to say that it had happened already, but they did not sound
convincingandalltheir'wor
dsofhonour'weretonopurpose.
As soon as the repair work on the bridge was finished, work began on a water
supply. Till then the town had had wooden fountains of which only two on
Mejdan gave pure spring water; all the others, down on the level, were
connectedwithwaterfromtheDrinaortheRzavandrancloudywheneverthe
waterofthosetworiverswascloudy,anddriedupaltogetherduringthesummer
heats when the river level fell. Now engineers found that this water was
unhealthy. The new water was brought right from the mountains on the other side of the Drina, so that the pipes had to be taken across the bridge into the town.
Once again there was noise and commotion on the bridge. Flagstones were
raisedandachanneldugfortheconduits.Firesburntonwhichpitchwasboiled
and lead melted. Hemp was plaited into ropes. The townspeople watched the
work with distrust and curiosity as they had always done before. Alihodja was
irritated by the smoke which drifted across the square to his shop, and spoke
disdainfullyofthe'new'uncleanwaterwhichpassedthroughironpipessothatit
was not fit to drink or for ablutions before prayer and which not even horses
would drink if they were still of the good old breed that they once were. He
laughed at Lotte who brought the water into her hotel. To everyone willing to
listen he proved that the waterworks were only one of the signs of the
approachingevilwhichsoonerorlaterwouldfalluponthetown.
However,nextsummer,thewatersupplywasinstalled,evenassomanyearlier
works had been introduced and completed. Clean and abundant water, which
was no longer dependent either on drought or flood, flowed into the new iron
fountains.Manybroughtthewaterintotheircourtyardsandsomeevenintotheir
houses.
That same autumn the building of the railway began. That was a much longer
andmoreimportanttask.Atfirstitdidnotseemtohaveanyconnectionwiththe
bridge.Butthatwasonlyapparent.
Thiswasthenarrowgaugerailwaydescribedinnewspaperarticlesandofficial