The Motion Demon by Stefan Grabinski, Miroslaw Lipinski Page B

His intensified excitement was maintained on an artificial summit above a frail life that, after the retreat of the ‘fortunate’ circumstances, descended into a state of even deeper prostration. A train in motion affected him like morphine injected into the veins of an addict.
    Finding himself in the four walls of a compartment, Godziemba became instantly enlivened. This misanthrope ‘on the mainland’ threw off the skin of a recluse and initiated conversations with, at times, reluctant people; this taciturn and difficult man was suddenly transformed into a splendid conversationalist who showered his fellow travellers with anecdotes put together quickly in an adroit and witty manner. An oaf—who aside from his remarkable transformation aboard a train was undistinguished in everything else—became, from neither here nor there, a strong individual, venturesome and incisive. This chicken-hearted wallflower changed unexpectedly to a blustering brawler, who could even be dangerous.
    Quite a few times during a ride Godziemba had gone through some interesting adventures, from which he emerged triumphant thanks to a pugnacious and unyielding attitude. A sarcastic witness to one such scene, who knew Godziemba well from another place, advised him to settle all his affairs of honour in a train—and one travelling at full speed at that.
    ‘ Mon cher , always duel in coaches; you’ll fight like a lion. As God is my witness!’
    But the artificial intensification of his life-force reverberated badly on his health: he paid the price for almost every ride with some illness. After each temporary increase of psychological powers an even more violent reaction would follow. Despite this, Godziemba liked riding trains immensely and repeatedly invented fictional travel goals just to opiate himself with motion.
    So, yesterday evening, getting on the express at B., he really didn’t know his purpose; he did not even reflect on what he would do tonight at F., where in a few hours the train would deposit him. All this was of little consequence. What did it matter to him? For here he sits comfortably in a warm compartment, looking through the window at the landscape whisking by, and he is riding at a speed of 100 kilometres an hour….
    Meanwhile, outside it had darkened completely. A lamp near the ceiling, turned on by an unseen hand, vividly lit up the interior. Godziemba drew the curtain, turned his back to the window, and glanced at the compartment. Having been engrossed with the murky countryside, he had not noticed that at one of the stations two people had entered his compartment to occupy the empty seats opposite him.
    Now in the lamp’s yellow light he saw his fellow passengers. They were probably newly-weds. The man, tall, lean, with dark blond hair and a clipped moustache, appeared to be in his thirties. Bright, cheerful eyes looked out from under his heavily defined brows. The sincere, somewhat long face was enhanced by a pleasant smile whenever he would turn to his companion.
    The woman, also blonde but with a lighter hue, was small but very well developed. Her luxuriant hair, twisted unpretentiously in two thick braids at the back of her head, framed a face that was delicate, fresh, and attractive. The short grey petticoat, clasped simply with a leather belt, emphasized the alluring curves of her hips and firm, young breasts.
    Both travellers were covered heavily with the dust and dirt of the roads; they were apparently returning from an outing. An aura of youth and health came from them—that refreshing vigour which mountain climbing gives to tourists. They were occupied in a lively conversation. It seemed they were sharing impressions of their excursion, for the first words Godziemba heard referred to some uncomfortable summit hostel.
    ‘It’s a pity we didn’t take that woollen blanket with us; you know, the one with the red stripes,’ said the young lady. ‘It was a bit too cold.’
    ‘Shame on you, Nuna,’ scolded