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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30732-8.txt b/30732-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4b78db --- /dev/null +++ b/30732-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11754 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Son of His Mother, by Clara Viebig, +Translated by H. Raahauge + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Son of His Mother + + +Author: Clara Viebig + + + +Release Date: December 22, 2009 [eBook #30732] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER*** + + +E-text prepared by Charles Bowen from page images generously made +available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/sonofhismother00viebiala + + + + + +THE SON OF HIS MOTHER + +by + +CLARA VIEBIG + +Authorised Translation by H. Raahauge + + + + + + + +London: John Lane The Bodley Head +New York: John Lane Company +Toronto: Bell & Cockburn MCMXIII + +The Anchor Press, Ltd., Tiptree Essex + + + + + + +BOOK I + + + +THE SON OF HIS MOTHER + + + +CHAPTER I + +The husband and wife were of a literary turn of mind, and as they +had the money to cultivate their artistic tastes he wrote a little and +she painted. They also played and sang duets together, at least they +had done so when they were first married; now they went to concerts and +the opera more frequently instead. They were liked wherever they went, +they had friends, they were called "charming people," and still +something was wanting to complete their happiness--they had no +children. + +And they would probably not have any now, as they had been married +for some time, and the likelihood of children being born to them was +very remote. + +No doubt he sighed and knit his brow in unguarded moments when he +sat at his desk in his office, but especially when he passed through +the villages in the Brandenburg March on the rides he took in the more +distant environs of Berlin--partly for his health, partly because he +still retained the liking for riding from the time he was in the +cavalry--and saw swarms of little flaxen-haired children romping on the +sandy roads. However, he did not let his wife perceive that he missed +something, for he loved her. + +But she could not control herself in the same manner. The longer she +was married the more nervous she became. At times she felt irritated +with her husband for no reason. She persistently turned her eyes away +from the announcement of births in the newspapers with a certain +shrinking, and, if her glance happened once in a way to fall on one in +which happy parents notified the birth of a son, she put the paper +aside hastily. + +In former years Käte Schlieben had knitted, crocheted, embroidered +and sewn all sorts of pretty little children's garments--she used to be +quite famous for the daintiness of her little baby jackets trimmed with +blue and pink ribbons, all her newly married acquaintances would ask +her for the wonderful little things--but now she had finally given up +that sort of work. She had given up hope. What good did it do her to +put her forefingers into the tiny sleeves of a baby's first jacket, +and, holding it out in front of her, gaze at it a long, long time with +dreamy eyes? It only tortured her. + +And she felt the torture twice as much in those grey days that +suddenly put in an appearance without any reason, that creep in +silently even in the midst of sunshine. On those occasions she would +lie on the couch in her room that was furnished with such exquisite +taste--really artistically--and close her eyes tightly. And then all at +once a shout, clear, shrill, triumphant, like the cry of a swallow on +the wing, would ascend from the street, from the promenade under the +chestnut-trees. She stopped her ears when she heard that cry, which +penetrated further than any other tone, which soared up into the ether +as swiftly as an arrow, and cradled itself up there blissfully. She +could not bear to hear anything like that--she was becoming morbid. + +Alas, when she and her husband grew old, with minds no longer so +receptive and too weary to seek incitement in the world, who would +bring it to them in their home? Who would bring them anything of what +was going on outside? What youth with his freshness, with the +joyousness that envelops those of twenty like a dainty garment, +that beams from smooth brows like warmth and sunshine, would give them +back a breath of their youth, which had already disappeared in +accordance with the laws of Time? Who would wax enthusiastic at the +things that had once made them enthusiastic, and which they would enjoy +once more as though they were new for them too? Who would fill the +house and garden with his laughter, with that careless laughter that is +so infectious? Who would kiss them with warm lips, and make them happy +by his tenderness? Who would carry them on his wings with him, so that +they did not feel they were weary? + +Alas, there is no second youth for those who are childless. Nobody +would come into the inheritance of delight in what was beautiful, of +taste for what was beautiful, of enthusiasm for art and artists which +they would leave behind them. Nobody would guard reverently all those +hundreds of things and nicknacks she had gathered together so +tastefully in her house with the delight of a collector. And nobody +would, alas, hold the hand that was fast growing cold with loving +hands, in that last difficult hour which all dread, and cry: "Father, +Mother, don't go! Not yet!" Oh, God, such loving hands would not close +their eyes---- + +When Paul Schlieben used to come home from his office in those days +he was co-partner in a large business that his grandfather had founded +and his father raised to a high position--he often found his wife's +sweet face stained with tears, her delicate complexion marred by +constant weeping. And her mouth only forced itself to smile, and in her +beautiful brown eyes there lurked a certain melancholy. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. The lady was suffering from +nerves, that was what was the matter with her. She had too much +time for brooding, she was left to herself too much. + +In order to alter this, her anxious husband withdrew from the +business for an indefinite period. His partners could get on just as +well without him. The doctor was right, he must devote himself more to +his wife; they were both so lonely, so entirely dependent on each +other. + +It was decided they should travel; there was no reason whatever why +they should remain at home. The beautiful house was given up, their +furniture, all their costly things were stored. If they cared to do so +they could remain away for years, get impressions, amuse themselves. +Käte would paint landscapes in beautiful countries, and he--well, he +could easily find compensation in writing, should he miss his usual +work. + +They went to Italy and Corsica--still further, to Egypt and Greece. +They saw the Highlands, Sweden and Norway, very many beautiful +places. + +Käte pressed her husband's hand gratefully. Her susceptible mind +waxed enthusiastic, and her talent for painting, which was by no means +insignificant, felt powerfully stimulated all at once. How splendid to +be able to paint, to keep hold of all that glow of colour, that +wonderful effect of tone that revealed itself to her delighted eyes on +her canvas. + +She was so eager that she went out with her painting materials in +the morning, whether it was at Capri, on the shores of the blue +Bosphorus, in the yellow sand of the desert, facing the precipitous +pinnacles in the Fjords, or in the rose gardens of the Riviera. Her +delicate face got sunburnt; she no longer even paid any attention to +her hands, which she used to take such care of. The ardent longing to +manifest herself had seized hold of her. Thank God, she could +create something now. The miserable feeling of a useless life did not +exist any longer, nor the torturing knowledge: your life ceases the +moment your eyes close, there is nothing of you that will survive you. +Now she would at least leave something behind that she had produced, +even if it were only a picture. Her paintings increased in number; +quite a quantity of rolls of canvas were dragged about now wherever +they went. + +At first Paul Schlieben was very pleased to see his wife so +enthusiastic. He politely carried her camp-stool and easel for her, and +never lost patience when he remained for hours and hours near her +whilst she worked. He lay in the scanty shadow of a palm-tree, and used +to follow the movements of her brush over the top of his book. How +fortunate that her art gave her so much satisfaction. Even though it +was a little fatiguing for him to lie about doing nothing he must not +say anything, no, he must not, for he had nothing to offer her as a +compensation, nothing whatever. And he sighed. It was the same sigh +that had escaped him when the numerous flaxen-haired little children +were playing about on the sandy roads in the Brandenburg March, the +same sigh which Sundays drew from him, when he used to see all +the proletariat of the town--man and wife and children, children, +children--wandering to the Zoo. Yes, he was right--he passed his hand a +little nervously across his forehead--that writer was right--now, who +could it be?--who had once said somewhere: "Why does a man marry? Only +to have children, heirs of his body, of his blood. Children to whom he +can pass on the wishes and hopes that are in him and also the +achievements; children who are descended from him like shoots from a +tree, children who enable a man to live eternally." That was the only +way in which life after death could be understood--life eternal. +The resurrection of the body, which the Church promises, was to be +interpreted as the renewal of one's own personality in the coming +generations. Oh, there was something great, something indescribably +comforting in such a survival. + +"Are you speculating about something?" asked his wife. She had +looked up from her easel for a moment. + +"Eh? What? Did you say anything, darling?" The man started up in a +fright, as one who has been straying along forbidden paths. + +She laughed at his absent-mindedness; it was getting worse and +worse. But what was he thinking of? Business?--surely not. But perhaps +he wanted to write a novel, a tale? Why should he not try his hand at +that for once in a way? That was something quite different from sending +short chatty accounts of one's journey to one of the papers. And of +course he would be able to do it. People who had not half the +education, not half the knowledge, not half the aesthetic refinement of +feeling he had wrote quite readable books. + +She talked brightly and persuasively to him, but he shook his head +with a certain resignation: nonsense, neither novels nor any other kind +of writing. And he thought to himself: it is always said that a piece +of work is like a child--that is to say, only a truly great piece of +work, of course. Was the work he and his wife created work in that +sense? Work that would exist eternally? He suddenly found things to +censure severely in her picture, which he had politely admired only the +day before. + +She got quite frightened about it. Why was he so irritable to-day? +Was he going to develop nerves at the finish? Yes, it was evident, the +warm air of the south did not suit him, he had lost his briskness, +looked so tired. There was nothing for it, her husband was more +to her than her picture, she would leave off her painting at once. + +And that was what happened. They went away, travelled from one place +to another, from one hotel to another, along the lakes, over the +frontier, until they made a somewhat longer stay high up among the Alps +in Switzerland. + +Instead of lying under a palm-tree he lay in the shadow of a +fir--now his wife was painting--and followed the movements of her brush +with his eyes over the top of his open book. + +She was busily painting, for she had discovered a delightful +subject. That green alpine meadow, with its wealth of flowers as +variegated as they could possibly be and the backs of the brown cows +with the sun shining on them, was as full of charm as the Garden of +Eden on the first day of creation. In her eagerness to see she had +pushed her broad-brimmed hat back, and the warm summer sun was burning +little golden spots on her delicate cheeks and the narrow bridge of her +finely shaped nose. She held the brush that she had dipped into the +green on her palette up against the green of the meadow in order to +compare the two, and blinked with half-closed eyes to see if she had +got the colour right. + +At that moment a sound made her start--it was half a growl of +displeasure at the disturbance, half a murmur of approval. Her husband +had risen and was looking at a couple of children who had approached +them noiselessly. They were offering rhododendrons for sale, the girl +had a small basket full of them, the boy was carrying his nosegay in +his hand. + +What exceedingly pretty creatures they were, the girl so blue-eyed +and gentle, the boy a regular little scamp. The woman's heart swelled. +She bought all the rhododendrons from them, even gave them more +than they asked for them. + +That was a stroke of great luck for the little Swiss boy and +girl--just think, to get more than they had asked for. They blushed +with happiness, and when the strange lady asked them questions in a +kind voice, they commenced to chatter ingenuously. + +She would have to paint _those_ children, they were really too +delightful, they were a thousand times more beautiful than the most +beautiful landscape. + +Paul Schlieben looked on with a strange uneasiness whilst his wife +painted the children, first the big girl and then the small boy. How +intently she gazed at the boy's round face. Her eyes were brilliant, +she never seemed to be tired, and only paused when the children grew +impatient. All her thoughts turned on the painting. Would the children +come again that day? Was the light good? Surely there would not be a +storm to prevent the children from coming? Nothing else was of any +interest to her. She displayed great zeal. And still the pictures +turned out bad; the features were like theirs, but there was no trace +of the child-mind in them. He saw it clearly: those who are childless +cannot paint children. + +Poor woman! He looked on at her efforts with a feeling of deep +compassion. Was not her face becoming soft like a mother's, lovely and +round when she bent down to the children? The Madonna type--and still +this woman had been denied children. + +No, he could not look on at it any longer, it made him ill. The man +bade the children go home in a gruff voice. The pictures were ready, +what was the good of touching them up any more? That did not make them +any better, on the contrary. + +That evening Käte cried as she used to cry at home. And she +was angry with her husband. Why did he not let her have that pleasure? +Why did he all at once say they were to leave? She did not understand +him. Were the children not sweet, delightful? Was it because they +disturbed him? + +"Yes," was all he said. There was a hard dry sound in his voice--a +"yes" that came with such difficulty--and she raised her head from the +handkerchief in which she had buried it and looked across at him. He +was standing at the window in the carpeted room of the hotel, his hands +resting on the window-ledge, his forehead pressed against the pane. He +was gazing silently at the vast landscape before him, in which the +mountaintops covered with snow that glowed in the radiance of the +setting sun spoke to him of immortality. How he pressed his lips +together, how nervously his moustache trembled. + +She crept up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "What is the +matter with you?" she asked him softly. "Do you miss your work--yes, +it's your work, isn't it? I was afraid of that. You are getting tired +of this, you must be doing something again. I promise you I'll be +reasonable--never complain any more--only stop here a little longer, +only three weeks longer--two weeks." + +He remained silent. + +"Only ten--eight--six days more. Not even that?" she said, bitterly +disappointed, for he had shaken his head. She wound her arms round his +neck. "Only five more--four--three days, please. Why not? Those few +days, please only three days more." She positively haggled for each +day. "Oh, then at least two days more." + +She sobbed aloud, her arms fell from his neck--he must allow her two +days. + +Her voice cut him to the heart. He had never heard her beg +like that before, but he made a stand against the feeling of yielding +that was creeping over him. Only no sentimentality. It was better to go +away from there quickly, much better for her. + +"We're going away to-morrow." + +And as she looked at him with wide-open horror-struck eyes and +pallid cheeks, the words escaped from his lips although he had not +intended saying them, drawn from him by a bitterness that he could not +master any longer: + +"They are not yours!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +And they went away. + +But it seemed to the woman as though every joy had disappeared with +the emerald green meadow in the Alps, in which she had painted the +lovely children. There was the same old nervous twitch in her face, the +corners of her mouth drooped slightly and she cried very easily. Paul +Schlieben watched his wife with positive dismay. Oh dear, had it all +been in vain, the giving up of his work, all this travelling about +without making any plans that was so fatiguing? Had the old melancholy +frame of mind taken possession of her again? + +When he saw her sitting there so disinclined to exert herself, her +hands lying idle in her lap, a feeling akin to fury came over him. Why +did she not do something? Why did she not paint? That confounded meadow +in the Alps was surely not the only place where she could work. Was it +not beautiful here as well? + +They had settled down in the Black Forest. But it was in vain that +he hoped from day to day that one of the quiet green wooded valleys or +one of the nut-brown maidens of the Black Forest with her cherry-red +hat and enormous red umbrella, as Vautier has painted them, would tempt +her to bring out her painting materials. She felt no inclination--nay, +she had positively a kind of dread of touching her brushes again. + +He reproached himself bitterly in secret. Would it not have been +better to have left her that pleasure and not have interfered? +Still--the thing would have had to end some time, and the longer it had +lasted the more difficult the separation would have been. But he had +made up his mind about one thing, they would return to Berlin again +late in the autumn. With the best will in the world he would not be +able to stand it any longer. He was heartily tired of this wandering +from hotel to hotel, this lounging about the world with nothing to show +for it but an occasional short article for the papers, a chatty account +of a journey to some corner of the earth of which people knew but +little. He longed for a home of his own again, and felt a great desire +to return to his business, which he had often looked upon as a fetter +and so prosaic whilst he was in it. But Käte! When he thought of her +again spending many hours alone at home, with no interests beyond +herself and her reading for in her state of hypersensitiveness she +found little pleasure in associating with other women--a feeling of +hopelessness came over him. Then there would be the same sad eyes +again, the same melancholy smile, the old irritable moods from which +the whole house used to suffer, herself the most. + +And he subjected himself to an examination as though blaming himself +for it. He passed his whole life in review: had he committed any crime +that no son had been given to him, no daughter? Ah, if only Käte had a +child everything would be right. Then she would have quite enough to +do, would be entirely taken up with the little creature round which the +love of parents, full of hope and entitled to hope, revolves in an +ever-renewed circle. + +Both husband and wife were torturing themselves, for the woman's +thoughts especially always ended at that one point. Now that +she had been separated from those dear children, from the, alas, much +too short happiness she had experienced that summer, it seemed to have +become quite clear to her what she missed--for had it not only weighed +on her like a painful suspicion before? But now, now the terrible +unvarnished truth was there: everything people otherwise call +"happiness" in this world is nothing compared to a child's kiss, to its +smile, to its nestling in its mother's lap. + +She had always given the children in the meadow a tender kiss when +they came and went, now she longed for those kisses. Her husband's kiss +did not replace them; she would soon have been married fifteen years, +_his_ kiss was no longer a sensation, it had become a habit. But a kiss +from a child's lips, that are so fresh, so untouched, so timid and yet +so confiding, was something quite new to her, something, exceedingly +sweet. A feeling of happiness had flowed through her soul on those +occasions as well as the quite physical pleasure of being able to bury +her mouth in those delicately soft and yet so firm cheeks, which health +and youth had covered with a soft down like that on the cheeks of a +peach. Her thoughts always wandered back to that meadow in the Alps, +full of longing. And this longing of hers that was never stilled +magnified what had happened, and surrounded the figures that had +appeared in her life for so short a time with the whole halo of tender +memories. Her idle thoughts spun long threads. As she longed for those +little ones so they would also be longing for her, they would wander +across the meadow weeping, and the large present of money she had left +behind for each of them with the proprietor of the hotel--she had been +obliged to leave without saying good-bye to them--would not console +them; they would stand outside the door and cast their eyes up +to the windows from which their friend so often had waved to them. No, +she could not forgive Paul for showing so little comprehension of her +feelings. + +The stay in the Black Forest, whose velvety slopes reminded them too +much of the Swiss meadows and from whose points of view you could look +over to the Alps on a clear day, became a torture to both the man and +woman. They felt they must get away; the dark firs, the immense green +forest became too monotonous for them. Should they not try some seaside +resort for once? The sea is ever new. And it was also just the season +for the seaside. The wind blew already over the stubble in the fields, +as they drove down to the plain. + +They chose a Belgian watering-place, one in which the visitors dress +a great deal, and in which quite a cosmopolitan set of people offer +something new to the eye every day. They both felt it, they had +remained much too long in mountain solitudes. + +During the first days the gay doings amused them, but then Paul and +his wife, between whom something like a barrier had tried to push +itself lately, both agreed all at once: this sauntering up and down of +men who looked like fools, of women who if they did not belong to the +demi-monde successfully imitated it, was not for them. Let them only +get away. + +The man proposed they should give up travelling entirely and return +to Berlin a little earlier, but Käte would not listen to it. She had a +secret dread of Berlin--oh, would she have to go back to her old +life again? So far she had never asked herself what she had really +expected from these long months of travel; but she had hoped for +something--certainly. What? + +Oh dear, now she would be so much alone again, and there was +nothing, nothing that really filled her life entirely. + +No, she was not able to return to Berlin yet. She told her husband +that she felt she had not quite recovered yet--she was certainly +anæmic, she was suffering from poorness of blood. She ought to have +gone to Schwalbach, Franzensbad or some other iron springs long +ago--who knows, perhaps many things would be different then. + +He was not impatient--at least he did not show it--for he was moved +with a deep compassion for her. Of course she should go to some iron +springs; they ought to have tried them long ago, have made a point of +it. + +The Belgian doctor sent them to the well-known baths at Spa. + +They arrived there full of hope. In her the hope was quite genuine. +"You will see," she said to her husband in a brighter voice, "this will +do me good. I have a vague feeling--no, I really feel quite sure that +something good will happen to us here." + +And he hoped so too. He forced himself to hope in order to please +her. Oh, it would be enough, quite enough if the characteristics of the +landscape won so much interest from her that she took up her painting +again, which she had neglected entirely. How pleased he would be at +even that. If her former zeal for art showed itself again, that was a +thousand times more health-bringing than the strongest iron springs at +Spa. + +The heather was in bloom, the whole plateau was red, the purple sun +set in a mass of purple. + +It happened as he had hoped, that is to say, she did not begin to +paint, but she made expeditions into the Ardennes and the Eifel with +him on foot and in a carriage, and enjoyed them. The Venn had bewitched +her. In her light-coloured dress she stood like a small speck +of light in the immense seriousness of the landscape, protected her +eyes with her hand from the view of the sun, which is so open there, so +unobstructed either by tree or mountain, and took deep breaths of the +sharp clear air that has not yet been vitiated by any smoke from human +dwellings, hardly by human breath. Around her the Venn blossomed like a +carpet of one colour, dark, calm, refreshing and beneficial to the eye; +it was only here and there that the blue gentian and the white +quivering flock of the cotton-grass were seen to raise their heads +among the heather. + +"Oh, how beautiful!" She said it with deep feeling. The melancholy +of the landscape flattered her mood. There was no gaudy tone there that +disturbed her, no medley of colours. Even the sun, which sets there in +greater beauty than anywhere else--blushing so deeply that the whole +sky blushes with it, that the winding Venn rivulet hedged in by +cushions of moss, that every pool, every peat-hole full of water +reflects its beams ruddy-gold, and the sad Venn itself wears a mantle +of glowing splendour--even this sun brought no glaringly bright light +with it. It displayed its mighty disc in a grand dignified manner, a +serious victor after a serious struggle. + +Käte looked into this marvellous sun with large eyes bathed in +tears, until the last beam, the last rosy streak in the grey mass of +clouds had vanished. Now it had gone--the heavens were dead--but +in the morning it would be there again, an eternal, imperishable, +never-conquered hope. Then should not, ought not the human heart to +beat again too, revived anew, always full of hope? + +Clouds of mist sped across the moor, veiled, indescribable, vague +shapes. There was a whispering before the coming of the wind, a +lisping through the heather and the cotton-grass--it seemed to Käte as +though the Venn had something to tell her. What was it saying? Ah, it +must be for some reason that she had come there, that she felt she was +being held fast as though by a strong and still kind hand. + +She walked on with quicker, more elastic steps, as though she were +searching for something. + +Her husband was delighted that his wife was so pleased with the +neighbourhood. True, the landscape had no special attraction for +him--was it not very desolate, monotonous and unfertile there? But the +characteristic scenery was certainly harmonious, very harmonious--well, +if she found pleasure in it, it was better than a paradise to him. + +They often drove up to Baraque Michel, that lonely inn on the +borders between Belgium and Prussia, in which the douaniers drank their +drams of gin when on the look-out for smugglers, and where the +peat-cutters dry their smocks that the mist has wetted and their +saturated boots at the fire that is always burning on the hearth. + +So many crosses in the Venn, so many human beings who have met with +a fatal accident. Käte listened to the men's stories with a secret +shudder--could the Venn be so terrible? and she questioned them again +and again. Was it possible that the man from Xhoffraix, who had driven +off to get peat litter, had been swallowed up there so close to the +road with cart and horse, and that they had never, never seen anything +of him again? And that cross there, so weather-beaten and black, how +had that come into the middle of the marsh? Why had that travelling +journeyman, whose intention it was to go along the high road from +Malmedy to Eupen, gone so far astray? Had it been dark or had there +been a heavy fall of snow so that he could not see, or was it +the cold, that terrible cold, in which a weary man can freeze to death? +Nothing of the kind; only a mist, a sudden mist, which confuses a man +so, that he no longer knows which is forward or which is backward, +which is left or which is right, that he loses all idea of where he is +going, gets away from the road and runs round in a circle like a poor, +mad, terrified animal. And all the mists that rise in the Venn when +daylight disappears, are they the souls of those who have never been +buried, and who in garments that are falling to pieces rise every night +from their graves, which have neither been consecrated by a benediction +nor by holy water and in which they cannot find rest? + +That was a fairy tale. But was not everything there as in the fairy +tale? So quite different to everywhere else in the world, in reality +ugly and yet not ugly, in reality not beautiful and yet so exceedingly +beautiful? And she herself, was she not quite a different being there? +Did she not wander about full of hope, in blissful dreams, like one to +whom something wonderful is to happen? + +It was in the sixth week of their stay at Spa. The nights were +already as cold as in winter, but the days were still sunny. It was +always a long journey up to the inn even for the strong Ardennes +horses, but Paul and his wife were there again to-day. Would they have +to leave soon? Alas, yes. Käte had to confess it to herself with +sorrow. Everything was very autumnal, the heather had finished +flowering, the air was raw; the grass that had already been frozen +during the night rustled under her feet. They could have found use for +their winter clothes. + +"Ugh, how cold," said the man shivering, and he turned up the collar +of his overcoat. He wanted to twist a shawl round his wife's neck, but +she resisted: "No, no!" She ran on in front of him through the +rustling heather with quick steps. "Just look." + +It was a wide view that presented itself to their eyes there on the +highest point in the Venn, that is adorned with a rickety wooden tower. +The whole large plateau covered with heather lay before them, with here +and there a group of dark firs that only showed spreading branches on +the side away from the storm. These firs that cowered so timidly were +trees that had been planted there; they were hardly higher than the +heather, and only recognisable on account of their different colour. +And, here and there, there was a stray grey boulder and a cross that +the wind had carried to the side of it. And a calm lay over the whole +in the pale midday autumn light as though it were God's acre. + +When they had climbed up the tower they saw still more. From the +plateau they looked down into the valley: a blue expanse around them, +blue from the darkness of the forests and from autumn vapours, and in +the beautiful blue outstretched villages the white houses half hidden +behind tall hedges. And here, looking down on Belgium, with its grey +fumes hanging like a cloud in the clear transparent autumn air, lay the +large town of Verviers with its church-towers and factory chimneys +towering above it. + +Käte heaved a sigh and shuddered involuntarily: oh, was the workaday +world so near? Was grey life already approaching nearer and nearer to +her wonderful fairy world? + +Her husband gave a slight cough; he found it very cold up there. +They went down from the tower, but when he wanted to take her back to +the inn she resisted: "No, not yet, not yet. That's only the midday +bell." + +The bell was ringing in Fischbach Chapel, that ancient little church +with its slated roof, in whose tower the great red lantern was +formerly hoisted to point out the safe harbour to the wanderer swimming +in the wild sea of mists, and the bell rung unceasingly to save the man +who had lost his way through his ear should his eye fail him. The bell +rang out clear and penetrating in the solitude, the only sound in the +vast stillness. + +"How touching that sound is." Käte stood with folded hands and +looked into the wide expanse, her eyes swimming in tears. What a charm +there was in this Venn. It encircled the soul as the tough underwood of +the heather and the creeping tendrils of the club moss entangled the +foot. When she thought of how soon she would have to leave it, to go +away from that immense stillness that seemed to be concealing a secret, +to be cherishing something marvellous in its deep lap, her heart +contracted in sudden fear. What would happen to her, what would become +of her? Her seeking soul stood like a child on the threshold of +fairyland asking for something--was there to be no gift for her? + +"What was that?" All at once she seized hold of her husband's arm +with a low cry of terror. "Didn't you hear it as well?" + +She had grown quite pale; she stood there with dilated eyes, raising +herself on her toes with an involuntary movement and craning her neck +forward. + +"There it is again. Do you hear it?" Something like a child's soft +whimpering had penetrated to her ear. + +No, he had not heard anything. "I suppose there are some people in +the neighbourhood. How you do frighten a body, Käte." He shook his head +a little angrily. "You know very well that all the women and children +have left their villages in the Venn to gather cranberries. That's all +the harvest they have, you see. Look, the berries are quite ripe." +Stooping down he took up a plant. + +The small cluster of berries of a deep coral in colour formed a +beautiful contrast to the glossy dark green of the small oval leaf. But +there were also some flowers on the plant, small pure white +flowers. + +"Like myrtle, just like the flower on a myrtle," she said, taking +the plant out of his hand. "And the leaves are also exactly like myrtle +leaves." Twisting the stalk round between her finger and thumb she +gazed at it thoughtfully. "The Venn myrtle." And, raising the little +flower to her mouth, she kissed it, full of delight. + +"Do you still remember--that time--on the evening of our +wedding-day, do you still remember? You kissed the myrtle that had been +in my wreath and I kissed it too, and then we kissed each other. +Then--then--oh, how happy we were then." She said it very softly, as +though lost in sweet memories. + +He smiled, and as she swayed towards him, with a dreamy look in her +eyes that were fixed the whole time on the little green plant, he drew +her closer and laid his arm round her. "And are we not--not"--he wanted +to say "not just as happy," but all he said was: "not happy to-day, +too?" + +She did not answer, she remained silent. But then, hurling the plant +with its glossy leaves away with a sudden movement, she turned and ran +away from him blindly into the Venn, without noticing where she was +going. + +"What's the matter, Käte?" He hurried after her, terrified. She ran +so quickly that he could not overtake her at once. "Käte, you'll fall. +Wait, I say. Käte, what is the matter with you?" + +No answer. But he saw from the convulsive movements of her shoulders +that she was weeping violently. Oh dear, what was the matter now? He +looked troubled as he ran after her across the desolate Venn. Was she +never to get any better? It was really enough to make a fellow +lose all pleasure in life. How stupid it had been to bring her to the +Venn--real madness. There was no brightness to be found there. A +hopelessness lurked in that unlimited expanse, a terrible hardness in +that sharp aromatic air, an unbearable melancholy in that vast +stillness. + +The man only heard his own quickened breathing. He ran more and more +quickly, all at once he became very anxious about his wife. Now he had +almost reached her--he had already stretched out his hand to seize hold +of her fluttering dress--then she turned round, threw herself into his +arms and sobbed: "Oh, here's both, blossom and fruit. But our myrtle +has faded and not borne fruit--not fruit--we poor people." + +So that was it--the same thing again? Confound it. He who as a rule +was so temperate stamped his foot violently. Anger, shame, and a +certain feeling of pain drove the blood to his head. There he stood now +in that lonely place with his wife in his arms weeping most pitifully, +whilst he himself was deserving of much pity in his own opinion. + +"Don't be angry, don't be angry," she implored, clinging +more closely to him. "You see, I had hoped--oh, hoped for +certain--expected--I don't know myself what, but still I had expected +something here--and today--just now everything has become clear. All, +all was in vain. Let me cry." + +And she wept as one in whom all hope is dead. + +What was he to say to her? How console her? He did not venture to +say a word, only stroked her hot face softly whilst he, too, became +conscious of a certain feeling, that feeling that he had not always the +strength to push aside. + +They stood like that for a long time without saying a word, +until he, pulling himself together, said in a voice that he tried to +make calm and indifferent: "We shall have to return, we have got quite +into the wilds. Come, take my arm. You are overtired, and when we--" + +"Hush," she said, interrupting him, letting go of his arm quickly. +"The same as before. Somebody is in trouble." + +Now he heard it as well. They both listened. Was it an animal? Or a +child's voice, the voice of quite a small child? + +"My God!" Käte said nothing more, but making up her mind quickly, +she turned to the right and ran down into a small hollow, without +heeding that she stumbled several times among the bushes, through which +it was impossible for her to force a passage. + +Her quick ear had led her right. There was the child lying on the +ground. It had no pillow, no covering, and was miserably wrapt up in a +woman's old torn skirt. The little head with its dark hair lay in the +heather that was covered with hoar-frost; the child was gazing fixedly +into the luminous space between the heavens and the Venn with its large +clear eyes. + +There was no veil, nothing to protect it; no mother either--only the +Venn. + +Nevertheless they had deceived themselves. It was not crying, it was +only talking to itself as quiet contented children generally do. It had +stretched out its little hands, which were not wrapped up like the rest +of its body, and had seized hold of some of the red berries and +squashed them. Then its little fists had wandered up to the hungry +mouth; there were drops of the juice from the berries on its baby +lips. + +"Quite alone?" Käte had sunk down on her knees, her hands trembled +as they embraced the bundle. "Oh, the poor child. How sweet it is. +Look, Paul. How has it come here? It will die of cold, of +hunger. Do call out, Paul. The poor little mite. If its mother came now +I would give her a piece of my mind it's disgraceful to let the +helpless little mite lie like this. Call--loud--louder." + +He called, he shouted: "Heigh! Hallo! Is nobody there?" + +No voice answered, nobody came. The whole Venn was as quiet as +though it were an extinct, long-forgotten world. + +"Nobody is coming," whispered Käte quite softly, and there was an +expression of fear and at the same time trembling exultation in her +voice. "Its mother does not trouble--who knows where the woman is? I +wonder if she's coming?" She looked round searchingly, turned her head +in all directions, and then stooped over the child again with a sigh of +contentment. + +What unpardonable thoughtlessness--no, what unspeakable barbarity +to abandon such a mite in that place. If they had come only a few +hours--only an hour later. It might already have been bitten by a snake +then, might even have been torn to pieces by a wolf. + +Then her husband had to laugh, although the sight of her +over-excitement had slightly annoyed him. "No, my child, there are no +poisonous snakes here and no more wolves either, so you can be at rest +about that. But when the mists begin to rise, they would have done for +him." + +"Oh!" Käte pressed the foundling to her bosom. She was sitting on +her heels holding the child in her lap; she stroked its rosy cheeks, +its little downy head, and showered caresses and flattering words on +it, but the child continued to gaze into the luminous space with its +large, dark, and yet so clear eyes. It did not smile, but it did not +cry either; it took no notice whatever of the strangers. + +"Do you think it has been left here intentionally?" asked Käte +suddenly, opening her eyes wide. The blood flew to her head in a hot +wave. "Oh then--then"--she drew a trembling breath and pressed the +child to her bosom, as though she did not want to let it go again. + +"It will all be cleared up somehow," said the man evasively. "The +mother will be sure to come." + +"Do you see her--do you see her?" she inquired almost anxiously. + +"No." + +"No." She repeated it in a relieved tone of voice, and then she +laughed. After that her eyes and ears belonged entirely to the helpless +little creature. "Where's baby--where is he then? Laugh a little, do. +Look at me once with those big, staring eyes. Oh, you little darling, +oh, you sweet child." She played with it and pressed kisses on its +hands without noticing that they were dirty. + +"What are we to do now?" said the man, perplexed. + +"We can't leave it here. We shall have to take it with us, of +course." There was something very energetic about the delicate-looking +woman all at once. "Do you think I would forsake the child?" Her cheeks +glowed, her eyes gleamed. + +Paul Schlieben looked at his wife with a certain awe. How beautiful +she was at that moment. Beautiful, healthy, happy. He had not seen her +like that for a long time. Not since he had folded her in his arms as a +happy bride. Her bosom rose and fell quickly with every trembling +breath she took, and the child lay on her breast and the Venn myrtle +bloomed at her feet. + +A strange emotion came over him; but he turned away: what had that +strange child to do with them? Still he admitted in a hesitating voice: +"We certainly can't leave it here. But do you know what we can do? +We'll take it with us to the inn. Give it to me, I'll carry it." + +But she wanted to carry it herself, she only let him help her up. +"There--there--come, my sweet little babe." She raised her foot +cautiously to take the first step--then a shout tied her to the +spot. + +"Hallo!" + +A rough voice had shouted it. And now a woman came up to them; the +figure in the fluttering skirt was outlined big and clear against the +rarefied ether that flowed around it. + +Where had she come from so suddenly? From there, from behind the +mound of earth that had been thrown up near the peat pit. She had been +creeping on all fours plucking berries; a pail that was almost ft 11 +hung on her arm, and in her right hand she carried the wooden measure +and the large bone curry-comb with which she stripped off the +berries. + +That was the mother! Käte got a terrible fright; she turned +pale. + +Her husband was taken by surprise too. But then he gave a sigh of +relief: that was decidedly the best way out of it. Of course, they +might have known it at once, how should the child have come into the +desolate Venn all alone? The mother had been looking for berries, and +had put it down there meanwhile. + +But the woman did not seem to take it kindly that they had looked so +carefully after the child during her absence. The strong bony arms took +it away from the lady somewhat roughly. The woman's eyes examined the +strangers suspiciously. + +"Is it your child?" asked Paul. He need not have asked the question; +it had exactly the same dark eyes as the woman, only the +child's were brighter, not dulled as yet by life's dust as the mother's +were. + +The woman made no answer. It was only when the man asked once more, +"Are you the mother?" and put his hand into his pocket at the same +time, that she found it worth while to give a curt nod: + +"C'est l' mi'n."[A] Her face retained its gloomy expression; there +was no movement of pride or joy. + + + +[Footnote A: C'est le mien.] + + + +Käte noticed it with a certain angry surprise. How indifferent the +woman was. Was she not holding the child as though it were a useless +burden? She was filled with envy, torturing envy, and at the same time +with hot anger. That woman certainly did not deserve the child. She +would have liked to have torn it out of her arms. How rough she looked, +what coarse features she had, what a hard expression. She might really +frighten anybody terribly with her black looks. But now--now her +expression brightened; ah, she had seen the piece of money Paul had +taken out of his purse. + +Ugh, what a greedy expression she had now. + +The fruit-picker stretched out her hand--there was a large shining +silver coin--and when it was given to her, when she held it in her hand +she drew a deep breath; her brown fingers closed round it tightly. + +"Merci." A smile passed quickly across the sullen face in which the +corners of the mouth drooped morosely, her blunted expression grew +animated for a moment or two. And then she prepared to trudge away, the +shapeless bundle containing the child on one arm, the heavy pail on the +other. + +They now saw for the first time how poor her skirt was; it had +patches of all colours and sizes. Dried heather and fir-needles stuck +to her matted and untidy plaits, as they hung out from the gaudily +spotted cotton handkerchief; she had an old pair of men's +hobnailed shoes on her feet. They did not know whether she was old or +young; her stout body and hanging breasts disfigured her, but that her +face had not been ugly once upon a time could still be seen. The little +one resembled her. + +"You've got a pretty child," said Paul. To please his wife he +started a conversation again with this woman who was so inaccessible. +"How old is the boy?" + +The fruit-picker shook her head and looked past the questioner +apathetically. There was no getting anything out of the woman, how +terribly stupid she was. The man wanted to let her go, but Käte pressed +up against him and whispered: "Ask her where she lives. Where she +lives--do you hear?" + +"Heigh, where do you live, my good woman?" + +She shook her head once more without saying a word. + +"Where do you come from, I mean? From what village?" + +"Je ne co'pr nay,"[A] she said curtly. But then, becoming more +approachable--perhaps she hoped for a second gift of money--she began +in a whining, plaintive voice: "Ne n'ava nay de pan et tat d's +e'fa'ts."[B] + +"You're a Walloon, aren't you?" + +"Ay[C]--Longfaye." And she raised her arm and pointed in a direction +in which nothing was to be seen but the heavens and the Venn. + +Longfaye was a very poor village in the Venn. Paul Schlieben knew +that, and was about to put his hand into his pocket again, but Käte +held him back, "No, not her--not the woman--you must hand it over to +the vestryman for the child, the poor child." + + + +[Footnote A: Je ne comprends pas.] + +[Footnote B: Nous n'avons pas de pain et tant d'enfants.] + +[Footnote C: Yes.] + + + +She whispered softly and very quickly in her excitement. + +It was impossible for the woman to have understood anything, but her +black eyes flew as quick as lightning from the gentleman to the lady, +and remained fixed on the fine lady from the town full of suspicion: if +she would not give her anything, why should she let them ask her any +more questions? What did they want with her? With the curtest of nods +and a brusque "adieu" the Walloon turned away. She walked away across +the marsh calmly but with long strides; she got on quickly, her figure +became smaller and smaller, and soon the faded colour of her miserable +skirt was no longer recognisable in the colourless Venn. + +The sun had disappeared with the child; suddenly everything became +grey. + +Käte stood motionless looking in the direction of Longfaye. She +stood until she shivered with cold, and then hung heavily on her +husband's arm; she went along to the inn with dragging feet, as though +she had grown tired all at once. + +The mist began to conceal the bright midday. Cold damp air, which +wets more than rain, made their clothes clammy. The stinging flies from +the swamps flew in big swarms through the door and windows of the inn; +a smouldering peat-fire was burning within, fanned to a bright flame +by means of dry fir twigs, and the flies clung to the wall near the +fire-place and to the ceiling--no, they would not die yet. + +Autumn had come, sun and warmth had disappeared from the Venn, it +was wise to flee now. + +But outside, in the depths of the wilds above the highest point in +the Venn, a lonely buzzard was moving round and round in a circle, +uttering the piercing triumphant cry of a wild bird. He was happy there +in summer as in winter. He did not want to leave. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The vestryman of the small village in the Venn felt somewhat surprised +and embarrassed when such a fine lady and gentleman drove up to his +house and wished to speak to him. He went out to them, walking through +the filthy water in his yard that splashed up to his knees. He did not +know where he should take them to, as the little pigs and the calf were +in the house and the old sow was wallowing in front of the door. + +So they walked up and down the quiet village street from which the +few farms lay somewhat back, whilst the carriage jolted slowly along in +the deep ruts behind them. + +Käte was pale, you could see from her eyes that she had only had +very little sleep. But she was smiling, and a happy excitement full of +expectation was written on her features, spoke in her gait; she was +always a little ahead of the others. + +Her husband's face was very grave. Was he not committing a great +imprudence, acting in an extremely hasty manner for the sake of his +wife? If it did not turn out all right? + +They had had a bad night. He had brought Käte home from the inn the +day before in a strangely silent and absent-minded mood. She had eaten +nothing, and, feigning extreme fatigue, had gone early to bed. +But when he retired to rest a few hours later he found her still awake. +She was sitting up in bed with her beautiful hair hanging down her back +in two long plaits, which gave her quite a youthful appearance. Her +bewildered eyes gazed at him full of a strange longing, and then she +threw both arms round his neck and drew his head down to her. + +Her manner had been so strange, so gentle and yet so impetuous, that +he asked her anxiously whether there was anything the matter with her. +But she had only shaken her head and held him close in a silent +embrace. + +At last he thought she had fallen asleep--and she was asleep, but +only for quite a short time. Then she woke again with a loud cry. She +had dreamt, dreamt so vividly--oh, if he knew what she had been +dreaming. Dreaming--dreaming--she sighed and tossed about, and then +laughed softly to herself. + +He noticed that she had something on her mind, which she would like +to tell him but which she had hardly the courage to say. So he asked +her. + +Then she had confessed it to him, hesitatingly, shyly, and yet with +so much passion that it terrified him. It was the child of which she +had been thinking the whole time, of which she always must think--oh, +if only she had it. She would have it, must have it. The woman had so +many other children, and she--she had none. And she would be so happy +with it, so unspeakably happy. + +She had become more and more agitated in the darkness of the night, +uninterrupted by a single word from him, by any movement--he had lain +quite quietly, almost as though the surprise had paralysed him, +although it could not really be called a surprise any more. What was +her whole life? she had said. A constant longing. All the love +he showered on her could not replace the one thing: a child, a +child. + +"My dear, good husband, don't refuse it. Make me happy. No other +mother on earth will be so happy--my darling husband, give me the +child." Her tears were falling, her arms clasped him, her kisses rained +down on his face. + +"But why just _that_ child? And why decide so quickly? It's no +trifle--we must think it over very carefully first." + +He had made objections, excuses, but she had pertinent answers ready +for all. What was to be thought over very carefully? They would not +come to any other result. And how could he think for a moment that the +woman would perhaps not give them the child? If she did not love it, +she would be glad to give it, and if she did love it, then all the more +reason for her to be glad to give it, and to thank God that she knew it +was so well taken care of. + +"But the father, the father. Who knows whether he will agree to +it?" + +"Oh, the father. If the mother gives it, the father is sure to +agree. One bread-eater less is always a good thing for such poor +people. The poor child, perhaps it will die for want of food, and it +would be so well"--she broke off--"isn't it like a dispensation of +Providence that just we should come to the Venn, that just we should +find it?" + +He felt that she was persuading him, and he strove against it in his +heart. No, if she allowed herself to be carried away by her feelings in +such a manner--she was only a woman--then he, as a man, must +subordinate his feelings to common sense. + +And he enumerated all the difficulties to her again and again, and +finally said to her: "You can't guess what troubles you may be +preparing for yourself. If the affection you now think you feel for the +child should not last? If he is not congenial to you when he grows +older? Bear in mind, he is and will always be the child you have +adopted." + +But then she had almost flown into a passion. "How can you say such +things? Do you think I am narrow-minded? Whether it is my own child or +a child I have adopted is quite immaterial, as it becomes mine through +its training. I will train it in my own way. That it is of your own +flesh and blood has nothing to do with it. Am I only to love a child +because I have borne it? Oh no. I love the child because--because it is +so small, so innocent, because it must be so extremely sweet when such +a helpless little creature stretches out its arms to you." And she +spread out her arms and then folded them across her breast, as though +she was already holding a child to her heart. "You're a man, you do not +understand it. But you are so anxious to make me happy make me happy +now. Dear, darling husband, you will very soon forget that it is not +our own child, you will soon not remember it any more. It will say +'Father,' 'Mother' to us--and we will be its father and mother." + +If she were right! He was silent, thrilled by a strange emotion. And +why should she not be right? A child that one trains according to one's +own method from its first year, that is removed entirely from the +surroundings in which it was born, that does not know but what it is +the child of its present parents, that learns to think with their +thoughts and feel with their feelings, cannot have anything strange +about it any more. It will become part of oneself, will be as dear, as +beloved as though one had begotten it oneself. + +Pictures arose before his mind's eye which he no longer +expected to see, no longer ventured to hope for. He saw his smiling +wife with a smiling child on her lap; he saw himself smile, and felt a +pride he had never known when he heard its soft childish voice lisp: +"Fa-ther." Yes, Käte was right, all the other things that go by the +name of happiness are nothing compared to this happiness. Only a +father, a mother, knows what joy is. + +He kissed his wife, and this kiss already meant half consent; she +felt that. + +"Let us drive there to-morrow, the first thing to-morrow morning," +she implored, in a tone of suppressed rapture. + +He endeavoured to remain calm: after they had maturely considered +the matter, they would first have to talk it over with their lawyer in +Berlin, and other intimate friends. + +Then she lost her temper. She pouted, and then she laughed at him: +was this a business matter? What had the lawyer and other people to do +with such a very important, quite personal and private matter? Nobody +was to be asked about it, nobody was to interfere with it. Not a single +person must suspect where the child came from or who were its parents. +They, he and she, were its parents, they were responsible for it, its +life had begun when they took it, and they vouched for its future. This +child was their work, their work entirely. + +"We'll fetch it the first thing to-morrow. The sooner it gets out of +that dirt and misery the better--don't you agree with me, Paul?" She +did not give him a chance of saying anything more, she overwhelmed him +with plans and proposals, in her sparkling vivacity; and her exuberant +spirits overcame his scruples. + +One can have too many scruples, be too cautious, and thus embitter +every pleasure in life, he said to himself. There was surely +nothing extraordinary in what they were doing? They only picked up +something that had been laid at their feet; in that way they were +obeying a hint given them by Fate. And there were really no +difficulties in connection with it. If they did not betray it +themselves nobody would find out about the child's antecedents, and +there would not be any questions asked in the village either as to what +had become of it. It was a nameless, homeless little creature they were +going to take away with them, of which they would make what they liked. +Later on when the little one was old enough they would formally adopt +it, and thus confirm also in writing what their hearts had already +approved of long ago. Now the only thing left to do was to get hold of +the vestryman at Longfaye, and make arrangements with the parents for +the surrender of the child with his assistance. + +When Paul Schlieben had come to this decision, he was troubled with +the same restlessness as his wife. Oh, if only it were morning, she +groaned. If anybody should steal a march on them now, if the child +should no longer be there next morning? She tossed about in her +impatience and fear. But her husband also turned from side to side +without sleeping. How could they know whether the child was healthy? +For a moment he weighed anxiously in his mind whether it would not be +advisable to confide in the doctor at the baths at Spa--he might drive +with them and examine the child first of all--but then he rejected the +thought again. The child looked so strong. He recalled its sturdy +fists, the clear look in its bright eyes--it had lain on the bare +ground in the cold and wind without any protection--it must have a +strong constitution. They need not trouble about that. + +It was very early in the morning when husband and wife +rose--weary as though all their limbs were bruised, but driven on by a +kind of joyful determination. + +Käte ran about the room at the hotel, so busy, so happy and excited, +as though she were expecting a dear guest. She felt so sure they would +bring the child back with them straightway. At all events she would +commence packing the trunks, for when they had got it they would want +to get home, home as quickly as possible. "The hotel is no place for +such a little darling. It must have its nursery, a bright room with +flowered curtains--but dark ones besides to draw in front of the +windows so as to subdue the light when it goes to sleep--otherwise +everything must be bright, light, airy. And there must be a baby's +chest-of-drawers there with all the many bottles and basins, and its +little bath, its bed with the white muslin curtains behind which you +can see it lying with red cheeks, its little fist near its head, +slumbering soundly." + +She was so young-looking, so lovely in her joyful expectation, that +her husband was charmed with her. Did not the sunshine seem to be +coming now for which he had been waiting so long in vain? It preceded +the child, fell on its path, making it clear and bright. + +Both husband and wife were full of excitement as they drove to +Longfaye. They had taken a comfortable landau that could be closed that +day, instead of the light carriage for two in which they generally made +their excursions. It might be too cold for the child on the way back. +Rugs and cloaks and shawls were packed in it, quite a large choice. + +Paul Schlieben had taken his papers with him. They would hardly be +likely to want any proof of his identity, but he stuck them into his +pocket as a precaution, so as to provide against any delay that might +be caused by their absence. He had been told that the vestryman +was quite a sensible man, so everything would be settled smoothly. + +As the rowan trees on both sides of the road bowed their tops under +their autumn load of red berries, so the heads of both husband and wife +were bowed under a flood of thoughts full of promise. The trees flew +quickly past the carriage as it rolled along, and so did their lives' +different stages past their agitated minds. Fifteen years of married +life--long years when one is expecting something first with confidence, +then with patience, then with faint-heartedness, then with longing, +with a longing that is kept more and more secret as the years go by, +and that becomes more and more burning on account of the secrecy. Now +the fulfilment was at hand--a fulfilment certainly different from what +husbands and wives who love each other picture to themselves, but still +a fulfilment. + +That old sentence in the Bible came into the woman's mind and would +not be banished: _But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent +forth His Son._ Oh, this child from a strange, from an unknown land, +from a land that had neither fields nor fruits, and was not blessed +with rich harvests, this child was a gift from God, given by His +goodness. She bowed her head full of gratitude, as though she had +received a blessing. + +And the man pressed his wife's hand gently, and she returned the +pressure. They remained sitting hand in hand. His glance sought hers +and she blushed. She loved him again as in the first year of her +marriage--no, she loved him much more now, for now, now he gave her the +happiness of her life, the child. + +Her eyes that were full of bliss swept over the poor Venn district, +which looked brown and desolate, and which was still a fairyland full +of the most glorious wonders. + +"Didn't I know it?" she murmured triumphantly, although trembling +with an agitation that was almost superstitious. "I felt +it--here--here." + +She could hardly wait until they reached the village hi the Venn, +oh, how far away from the world it lay, so quite forgotten. And so +poor. But the poverty did not terrify her, nor the dirt--the result of +the poverty; she was going to take the child away with her now, to take +him where there was culture and prosperity, and he would never know +that he had lain on the bare ground instead of in a soft bed. She +thought of Moses. As he had been found in the bulrushes on the banks of +the Nile, so she had found him on the grass in the Venn--would he +become a great man like him? Desires, prayers, hopes, and a hundred +feelings she had not known before agitated her mind. + +Paul Schlieben had some difficulty in making the vestryman +understand him. It was not because the man was a Walloon who hardly +understood German, for Nikolas Rocherath of "Good Hope"--his house +having received that name because it could be seen a good distance off +in the Venn, it being the largest in the village--was a German, but +because he could not understand what the gentleman meant. + +What did he want with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre? Adopt him? He +looked quite puzzled at first, and then he got offended. No, even if he +was nothing but a simple peasant, he would not let the gentleman make a +fool of him. + +It was only by degrees that Schlieben could convince him that his +intentions were serious. But the old man still continued to rub his +stubbly chin doubtfully and cast suspicious glances at the lady and +gentleman, who had broken in on his solitude so unexpectedly. It was +only when Käte, wearied and tortured by the long explanation, +seized hold of his arm impatiently, and looking into his face cried +impetuously, almost angrily, "For goodness' sake do understand. We have +no child, but we want a child--now do you understand it?"--that he +understood. + +No child--oh dear! No child! Then people do not know what they are +living for. Now he nodded comprehendingly, and, casting a compassionate +look at the lady who was so rich, so finely dressed and still had no +children, he became much more approachable. So they were so pleased +with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre that they wanted to take him to Berlin +with them? How lucky the boy was. Lisa would not be able to believe it. +But nobody would begrudge her it. Nobody in Longfaye was as poor as +she; many a day she did not know how to get sufficient food for herself +and her five. Formerly, whilst her husband was alive---- + +What, her husband was not alive? She was a widow? Paul Schlieben +interrupted the vestryman, and drew a long breath as though of relief. +Although he had never spoken of it, he had always had a secret fear of +the father: if he turned out to be a drunkard or a ne'er-do-well? A +load fell from his mind now--he was dead, he could not do any more +harm. Or had he died of an illness after all, of a wasting disease that +is handed down to children and children's children? He had been told +that the mists on the Venn and the sudden changes in the temperature +may easily be injurious to the lungs and throat--added to that hard +work and bad food--surely the young man had not died of consumption? He +asked the question anxiously. + +But Nikolas Rocherath laughed. No, Michel Solheid had never known a +day's illness all his life, and had not died of any illness. He had +worked at the machine factory at Verviers, covered with black soot and +naked to the waist. Cold and heat had had no effect on him. And +he used to come over from Verviers every Saturday and spend Sunday with +his family. And it had been the Saturday before the festival of St. +Peter and St. Paul somewhat over a year ago now, and Michel had bought +his wife a side of bacon and one or two pounds of coffee for the money +he had earned for overtime. + +"You must know, sir, everything is much too dear for us here, and it +is much cheaper on the other side of the frontier," said the old man in +a troubled voice; then, raising his fist slowly, he shook it at the +Venn that lay there so peaceful and remote from the world. "But they +were soon on his tracks. They came after him from the Baraque--the +accursed douaniers. Three, four of them. Now you must know that Michel +could run as well as any of them. If he had thrown his parcel behind a +bush and run, they would never have caught him. But no, he would not, +he would have felt ashamed of himself if he had done so. So in order +not to let them know where he was going, he ran to the left through the +Walloon Venn in the direction of Hill instead of to the right. Then on +through Clefay and Neckel,[A] and so on in all directions, and in this +manner he got away from the neighbourhood he knew as well as he knew +his own pocket. They were close at his heels above the Pannensterz. And +they ran after him calling out 'Stop!' + + + +[Footnote A: Wooded districts in the High Venn.] + + + +"Look you, sir, if he had run into the Great Haard then and hidden +in the thicket there, they would never have found him without a dog. +But he lost his head, and ran out of the bushes straight across the +Venn. + +"'Halt!--Stop!'--and a third time 'Halt!' But he bounded along like +a stag. Then one of them pulled his trigger and--Jesus Christ have +mercy upon us, now and at the hour of our death!"--the vestryman +devoutly made the sign of the cross and then wiped his nose with the +back of his hand--"the shot pierced the side of bacon and went into his +back, in from behind, out at the front. Then Solheid turned a +somersault. It was a shame. Such a fine fellow, for a side of bacon. + +"He still lived for over an hour. He told them that he was Solheid +from Longfaye, and that they should fetch his wife. + +"I was just cutting my hedge that day, when somebody came running +up. And I started off with Lisa, who was six months gone with +Jean-Pierre at the time. But when we came there it was already too +late. + +"They had left him lying not far from the large cross. They had +wanted to carry him to a house at Ruitzhof, but he had said 'Leave me. +I'll die here.' And he gazed at the sun. + +"Sir, it was as large and red in the sky that day--as large--as it +will be on the Day of Judgment. Sir, he was bathed in sweat and +blood--they had chased him for hours--but he still enjoyed gazing at +the sun. + +"Sir, the fellow who had shot him was almost out of his mind; he +held him on his knees and wept. Sir, no,"--the vestryman gave himself a +shake and his gestures expressed the aversion he felt--"I would not +like to be a douanier!" + +The old man's voice had grown deeper and hoarser--it was a sign of +the sympathy he felt--now it got its former even-tempered ring again. +"If it's agreeable to you, ma'am, we'll go now." + +"Oh, the child, the poor child," whispered Käte, quite shaken. + +"Do you think the widow will part with her youngest child?" asked +Paul Schlieben, seized with a sudden fear. This child that had +been born after its father's death--was it possible? + +"Oh!" the old man rocked his head to and fro and chuckled. "If you +give a good sum for it. She has enough of them." + +Nikolas Rocherath was quite the peasant again now; it was no longer +the same man who had spoken of the sun in the Venn and Solheid's death. +The point now was to get as much out of these people as possible, to +fleece a stranger and a townsman into the bargain to the best of his +ability. + +"Hundred thalers would not be too much to ask," he said, blinking +sideways at the gentleman's grave face. What a lot of money he must +have, why, not a muscle of his face had moved. + +The old peasant had been used to haggling all his life when trading +in cattle, now he gazed at the strange gentleman full of admiration for +such wealth. He led the way to Solheid's cottage with alacrity. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Like all the houses in the village, the Solheids' cottage stood quite +alone behind a hedge that reached as high as the gable. But the hedge, +which was to protect it against the storms that raged in the Venn and +the heavy snowdrifts, was not thick any longer; you could see that +there was no man's hand there to take care of it. The hornbeams had +shot up irregularly; dead branches lashed by the wind from the Venn +stretched themselves in the air like accusing fingers. + +Ugh, it must be icy cold there in the winter. Käte involuntarily +drew her cloak of soft cloth lined with silk more tightly round her. +And it must be doubly dark there on dark days. Hardly any light found +its way through the tiny windows owing to the protecting hedge, and the +roof hung low over the entrance. There were no steps, you walked +straight into the room. + +The vestryman rattled the iron knocker on the door, which had once +been painted green but had no colour left now. The sound reverberated +through the building, but the door did not open when they tried it. The +woman was probably among the berries, and the children with her. The +hungry screams of the youngest one was all that was heard inside the +locked cottage. + +The poor child--oh, she had left it alone again. Käte trembled with +excitement, its screams sounded to her like a call for help. + +The vestryman sat down calmly on the chopping-block in front of the +door and drew his pipe out of the pocket of his blue linen smock, which +he had hastily drawn over his working coat in honour of the lady and +the gentleman. Now they would have to wait. + +The husband and wife looked at each other much disappointed. Wait? +Käte had refused the seat on the chopping-block, which the old man had +offered her with a certain gallantry. She could not rest, she walked +restlessly up and down in front of the little window, trying in vain to +look through the dark pane. + +The child inside screamed more and more loudly. Old Rocherath +laughed: what a roar that was to be sure, Jean-Pierre had powerful +lungs. + +Käte could not listen to the screams any longer, they tortured her +both bodily and mentally. Oh, how they made her ears tingle. She +covered them with her hands. And her heart trembled with compassion and +anger: how could its mother remain away so long? + +Her brow was wet with perspiration. She stared at the Venn, at the +bare, treeless, tortuous path with burning impatient eyes. At last she +saw some figures--at last!--and yet her breath stopped all at once, her +heart ceased to beat and then suddenly went hammering on at a furious +pace as if mad. There came the child's mother! + +Lisa Solheid was carrying a bundle of fagots on her back, which was +fastened round her shoulders with a rope The load was so heavy that it +quite weighed her down, bending her head forward. Three children--their +small feet in clumsy shoes with big nails in them--stamped along in +front of their mother, whilst a fourth was clinging to her skirt. It +had also been looking for cranberries, and its little hands were +coloured red like those of its older sister and brothers, who were +carrying pails, measure and comb. + +Pretty children, all four of them. They had the same dark eyes as +little Jean-Pierre, and they stared with them half boldly, half timidly +at the strange lady who was smiling at them. + +The woman did not recognise the lady and gentleman again who had +given her a present in the Venn the day before--or did she only pretend +not to? + +The rope which had kept the bundle together had cut deep into her +shoulders and bosom, now she undid it and threw off the burden with a +powerful jerk; and then, seizing hold of the axe lying near the +chopping-block, she began to chop up a couple of big branches with +powerful strokes. + +"Hallo, Lisa," said the vestryman, "when you have chopped sufficient +wood to cook the cranberries, just wait a bit." + +She looked up at him for a moment. The strange lady and gentleman +had gone a little aside--without previous arrangement. Let the +vestryman tell her first. It was not so simple a matter as they had +imagined. She was not very approachable. + +Not a feature changed in the woman's reserved face; she went on with +her work in silence, her lips compressed. The wood was split up by +means of her powerful blows, and the pieces flew around her. Was she +listening at all to what the man was saying to her? + +Yes--the spectators exchanged a hasty glance--and now she was +answering too in a more lively manner than they would have supposed, +judging from her sullen appearance. + +Lisa Solheid raised her arm and pointed to the cottage in which the +little one was still screaming. Her speech--an almost barbaric +dialect--sounded rough, they understood nothing of it except a French +word here and there. The vestryman spoke Walloon too. Both of them +became excited, raised their voices and spoke to each other in a +loud voice; it sounded almost like quarrelling. + +They did not seem to agree. Käte listened in suppressed terror. +Would she give it? Would he get it from her? + +She pulled her husband's sleeve when nobody was looking. "Offer +more, give her some more, a hundred thalers is much too little." And he +must also promise the peasant something for his trouble. A hundred, two +hundred, three hundred, a hundred times a hundred would not be too +much. Oh, how the poor child was screaming. She could hardly bear to +stand outside the door doing nothing any longer. + +Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers--a beautiful girl with +untidy hair and three younger brothers--stood with their fingers in +their mouths, their dirty noses unwiped, and did not move from the +spot. + +Their mother spoke to them angrily, "Off with you!" And they darted +off, one almost tumbling over another. They scraped the key out of the +little hole under the door, and the biggest of them thrust it into the +rusty lock, and, standing on her toes, turned it with all the strength +of her small hands. + +Then the woman turned to the strange lady and gentleman; she made a +gesture of invitation with her thin right hand: "Entrez." + +They stepped in. It was so low inside that Paul Schlieben had to +bend his head so as not to knock against the beams in the ceiling, and +so dark that it took a considerable time before they could distinguish +anything at all. It could not have been poorer anywhere--one single +room in all. The hearth was formed of unhewn stones roughly put +together, above it hung the kettle in an iron chain that was made fast +to the blackened beam; the smoke from the smouldering peat ascended +into the wide sooty chimney. A couple of earthenware plates in the +plate-rack--cracked but with gay-coloured flowers on them--a couple of +dented pewter vessels, a milk-pail, a wooden tub, a long bench behind +the table, on the table half a loaf of bread and a knife, a few clothes +on some nails, the double bed built half into the wall, in which the +widow no doubt slept with the children now, and little Jean-Pierre's +clumsy wooden cradle in front of it--that was all. + +Really all? Käte looked round, shivering a little in the cold dark +room that was as damp as a cellar. Oh, how poor and comfortless. There +were no ornaments, nothing to decorate it. Oh yes, there was a +glaringly gaudy picture of the Virgin Mary--a coarse colour-print on +thin paper--a vessel for holy water made of white china beneath it, and +there on the other wall close to the window so that the sparse light +fell on it the picture of a soldier. A framed and glazed picture in +three divisions; the same foot-soldier taken three times. To the +left, shouldering his arms, on guard before the black and white +sentry-box--to the right, ready to march with knapsack and cooking +utensils strapped on his back, bread-bag and field-flask at his +side, gun at his feet--in the centre, in full dress uniform as a +lance-corporal, with his hand to his helmet saluting. + +That was no doubt the man, Michel Solheid as a soldier. Käte cast a +timid glance at the picture--that man had been shot in the Venn whilst +smuggling. How terrible! She heard the old man tell the story once +more, saw the bleeding man lying in the heather, and the horror of his +tragic end made her shudder. Her glance fell on the picture again and +again, the usual picture of a soldier which told nothing whatever in +its stereotyped inanity, and then on little Jean-Pierre's cradle. Did +he resemble his father much? + +Paul Schlieben had expected his wife to speak--she would of course +know best what to say to the other woman--but she was silent. And the +vestryman did not say anything either; as he had started the +negotiations he considered it polite to let the gentleman speak now. +And Lisa Solheid was also silent. All she did was to drive away the +children, who wanted to fall upon the hard bread on the table with +ravenous appetites, with a silent gesture. Then she stood quietly +beside the cradle, her right hand, which still held the axe with which +she had cut the wood, hanging loosely by her side. Her face was gloomy, +forbidding, and still a struggle was reflected on it. + +Paul Schlieben cleared his throat. He would have preferred some +other person to have settled the matter for him, but, as this other +person was not there and the vestryman only looked at him expectantly, +he was compelled to speak. With an affability which might have been +taken for condescension but which was nothing but embarrassment he +said: "Frau Solheid, the vestryman will have told you what has brought +us to you--do you understand me, my good woman?" + +She nodded. + +"It's our intention to take your youngest child away with us"--he +hesitated, for she had made a movement as though she wanted to deny +it--"as our own, to adopt it. Do you understand?" + +She did not answer, but he continued with as much haste as if she +had said yes. "We will treat it as if it really were our own. We shall +be able to do more for it than you would, of course, and we----" + +"Oh, and we'll love it so," his wife broke in. + +The black-eyed woman turned her head slowly to the side where the +fair-haired lady was standing. It was a peculiar look with which she +scanned the stranger, who had now approached the cradle. Was it +a scrutinising look or a forbidding one? A friendly or unfriendly +one? + +Käte looked at the child with longing eyes. It was no longer crying, +it even smiled, and now--now it stretched out its little arms. Oh, it +was already so intelligent, it was looking at her, it noticed already +that she was fond of it. It tried to get up--oh, it wanted to go to +her, to her! + +Her face flushed with joy. She had already stretched out her hands +to take the child, when its mother pushed herself in front of the +cradle like a wall. + +"Neni,"[A] she said in Walloon, in a hard voice. She raised her +empty left hand to ward Käte off. And then she made the sign of the +cross on the child's forehead and then on its breast. + + + +[Footnote A: Non.] + + + +But why, why would she not give it all at once? Käte trembled with +dismay. She cast an imploring look at her husband, as much as to say: +"Help me. I must have the child." + +And then her husband said what he wanted to say before when his wife +had cut him short: "We will secure your child's future. Do you know +what that means, my good woman? It will never have to trouble about its +daily bread--never have to hunger. Never have to work to prolong its +life--only work for the pleasure of working. Do you understand?" + +Work--for the pleasure of working? The woman shook her head, she did +not understand him. But then the words came into her mind: never +hunger!--and a light shone in her dull eyes. Never hunger--ah, the +woman understood that; and still she shook her head again: "Neni!" + +She pointed to herself and the other children, and then to the great +Venn outside with a comprehensive gesture: + +"Nos avans tortos faim."[A] She shrugged her shoulders with the +equanimity of one who is accustomed to it, and it even looked as though +she wanted to smile; the corners of her sullen mouth did not droop +quite so much, her lips that were generally tightly closed showed her +strong healthy teeth. + +The vestryman stepped in now: "'Pon my word, Lisa, to hunger is +surely no pleasure. Good heavens, how can you be so foolish! The child +will be taken from hell to heaven. Remember what I've told you, the +lady and gentleman are rich, very rich, and they are mad on the +child--quick, give it to them, you still have four." + +Still four! She nodded reflectively, but then she threw her head +back, and a look--now it was plain, something like hatred flickered in +it--flew to the others standing there so rich, so fine, with rings on +their ringers, and at whom her Jean-Pierre was peeping. "Neni!" She +repeated it once more and still more curtly and more obstinately than +before. + +But the vestryman was tenacious, he knew the people he had to deal +with. "You must think it over," he said persuasively. "And they'll give +you a good sum, I tell you--won't you?" he asked, turning to the +gentleman. "Haven't you said you weren't particular to a coin or two +in the case of such a poor woman?" + +"No, certainly not," assured Paul. And Käte was too precipitate +again. "It does not matter at all to us--we will gladly give what she +asks--oh, the dear child!" + +"Dju n' vous nin,"[B] muttered the woman. + + + +[Footnote A: Nous avons tous faim.] + +[Footnote B: Je ne veux pas.] + + + +"You won't? Oh, nonsense." The old peasant almost laughed at her. +"You are just like my Mayflower when she won't stand, and kicks the +milk-pail with her hind foot. Don't offend the people. What advantage +will it be to you if they grow impatient and go away? None at +all. Then you will have five who call out for bread, and the winter is +near at hand. Do you want to have such a winter as you had last +year? Didn't Jean-Pierre almost die of cold? The four others are +already older, it's easier to rear them. And you can get a cow for +yourself--just think of that, a cow. And you could have a better roof +put on the house, which won't let the rain and the snow come through, +and could have enough cranberries as well. It would certainly be a good +stroke of business, Lisa." + +Käte wanted to add something more--oh, what a lot of good she would +do the woman, if she would only give the child to her!--but the old man +cleared his throat and winked at her covertly to warn her that she was +to be silent. + +"Kubin m'e dinroz--ve?"[A] inquired the woman all at once. + + + +[Footnote A: Combien me donnerez-vous donc?] + + + +She had been standing undecided for a long time with her head bowed, +and a deep silence had reigned around her. The strange lady and +gentleman had not moved, nor had the vestryman; no wind had whistled in +the chimney, no fire crackled. A silent expectation weighed on them +all. Now she raised her head, and her gloomy eyes glanced at the +miserable room, the small quantity of bread on the table and then at +the hungry four, as though examining everything. She no longer looked +at the fifth child. She had grown pale, the deep sunburn on her face +had turned a greyish colour. + +"What's he going to give you? Well, what will you give her?" said the +peasant encouragingly. "I think you'll see that two hundred is too +little. The woman is very much attached to the child, it will not be +easy for her to give it up." He watched Paul Schlieben out of the +corner of his eye, and called out as they call out at an auction: "Two +hundred, two hundred and fifty, three hundred. 'Pon my word, it +isn't too much. Jean-Pierre is a fine boy--just look at his fists. And +his thighs. A splendid fellow." He noticed the longing expression in +Käte's eyes--"Three hundred thalers is not worth talking about for the +boy, is it, ma'am?" + +Käte had tears in her eyes and was very pale. The air in the cottage +oppressed her, it was all very repugnant to her--let them only get away +quickly from there. But not without the child. "Four hundred--five +hundred," she jerked out, and she gazed imploringly at her husband as +though to say: "Do settle it quickly." + +"Five hundred, willingly." Paul Schlieben drew out his pocket-book. + +The peasant craned his neck forward the better to see. His eyes were +quite stiff in his head, he had never seen anybody pay so willingly +before. The children, too, stared with wide-open eyes. + +The woman cast a hasty glance at the notes the gentleman spread on +the table near the bread; but the covetous light that flashed in her +eyes disappeared suddenly again. "Neni," she said sullenly. + +"Offer her some more--more," whispered the old man. + +And Schlieben laid another couple of notes on the table beside the +others; his fingers trembled a little as he did it, the whole thing was +so unspeakably repugnant to him. He had never thought of haggling; they +should have what they wanted, only let them get done with it. + +Nikolas Rocherath could not contain himself any longer at the sight +of such generosity--so much money on the table, and that woman could +still hesitate? He rushed up to her and shook her by the shoulders: +"Are you quite mad? Six hundred thalers on the table and you don't take +them? What man here can say he has six hundred thalers in cash? What +money, what a sum of money!" His emaciated face, which had grown very +haggard from years of toil and a life lived in wind and storm +and which was as sharply outlined as though cut out of hard wood, +twitched. His fingers moved convulsively: how was it possible that +anybody could still hesitate? + +The axe which the woman still held fell out of her hand with a loud +noise. Without raising her head, without looking at the table or at the +cradle she said in a loud voice--but there was no ring in the voice: +"Allons bon. Djhan-Pire est da vosse."[A] + + + +[Footnote A: Eh bien. Jean-Pierre est à vous.] + + + +And she turned away, walked to the hearth with a heavy tread and +raked up the smouldering peat. + +What indifference! This woman certainly did not deserve to be a +mother. Käte's gentle eyes began to blaze. Schlieben was angry too; no, +they need not have any scruples about taking the child away from there. +He was filled with disgust. + +The woman behaved now as though the whole affair did not concern her +any longer. She busied herself at the hearth whilst the vestryman +counted the notes--licking his fingers repeatedly and examining both +sides of each one--and then put them carefully into the envelope which +the gentleman had given him. + +"There they are, Lisa, put them into your pocket." + +She tore them out of his hand with a violent gesture, and, lifting +up her dress to a good height, she slipped them into her miserable +ragged petticoat. + +The last thing had still to be settled. Even if Paul Schlieben felt +certain that nobody there would inquire about the child any more, +the formalities had to be observed. Loosening his pencil from his +watch-chain--for where was ink to come from there?--he drew up the +mother's deed of surrender on a leaf from his pocketbook. The vestryman +signed it as witness. Then the woman put her three crosses +below; she had learnt to write once, but had forgotten it again. + +"There!" Paul Schlieben rose from the hard bench on which he had sat +whilst writing with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, now everything +was settled, now the vestryman had only to procure him the birth and +baptismal certificates and send them to him. "Here--this is my address. +And here--this is for any outlay." He covertly pressed a couple of gold +coins into the old man's hand, who smiled when he felt them there. + +Well, now they would take the boy with them at once? he +supposed. + +Käte, who had been standing motionless staring at the mother with +big eyes as though she could not understand what she saw, woke up. Of +course they would take the child with them at once, she would not leave +it a single hour longer there. And she took it quickly out of the +cradle, pressed it caressingly to her bosom and wrapped it up in the +warm wide cloak she was wearing. Now it was her child that she had +fought such a hard battle for, had snatched from thousands of dangers, +her darling, her sweet little one. + +Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers stood there in silence with +eyes wide open. Had they understood that their brother was going away, +going for ever? No, they could not have understood it, otherwise they +would have shown how grieved they were. Their big eyes were only +interested in the bread on the table. + +Paul Schlieben pitied the little ones greatly--they would remain +there in their wretchedness, their hunger, their poverty. He stuck a +present into the hands of all four. None of the four thanked him for +it, but their small fingers clasped the money tightly. + +The woman did not thank him either. When the strange lady took +Jean-Pierre out of the cradle--she had seen it without looking +in that direction--she had started. But now she stood motionless near +the empty cradle, on the spot where the axe had fallen out of her right +hand before with a loud noise, looking on in silence whilst Jean-Pierre +was being wrapped up in the soft cloak. She had nothing to give +him. + +Paul Schlieben had feared there would be a scene at the very last in +spite of the mother's indifference--she surely could not remain so +totally void of feeling, when they carried her youngest child away +with them?--but the woman remained calm. She stood there motionless, +her left hand pressed against the place in her skirt where she +felt the pocket. Did not that money in her pocket--Paul felt very +disturbed--give the lie to all the traditions about a mother's love? +And still--the woman was so demoralised by her great poverty, half +brutalised in the hard struggle for her daily bread, that even the +feeling she had for the child she had borne had vanished. Oh, what a +different mother Käte would be to the child now. And he pushed his +wife, who had the little one in her arms, towards the door, in his +tender anxiety for her. + +Let them only get away, it was not a nice place to be in. + +They hastened away. Käte turned her head once more when she reached +the threshold. She would have to cast a glance at the woman who +remained behind so stiff and silent. Even if she were incomprehensible +to her, a compassionate glance was her due. + +Then ... a short cry, but loud, penetrating, terrible in its +brevity, a cry that went through nerve and bone. One single +inarticulate cry that agony and hatred had wrung from her. + +The woman had stooped down. She had snatched up the axe with which +she had chopped the wood. She raised her arm as though to throw +something--the sharp edge flashed past the lady's head as she hurried +away, and buried itself in the door-post with a crash. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +They had hastened away with the child as though they were running away. +They had bundled it into the carriage--quick, quick--the coachman had +whipped up the horses, the wheels had turned round with a creaking +noise. The village in the Venn remained behind them, buried like a bad +dream one wants to forget. + +A dull grey lay over the Venn. The sun, which had been shining in +the morning, had quite disappeared, as though not a single beam had +ever been seen there. The Venn mist, which rises so suddenly, was there +covering everything. There was a wall now where there had been a wide +outlook before. A wall not of stone and not of bricks, but much +stronger. It did not crack, it did not burst, it did not totter, it did +not give way before the hammer wielded by the strongest hand. It shaped +itself out of the morasses, powerful and impenetrable, and stretched +from the moor up to the clouds--or was it the clouds that had lowered +themselves to the earth? + +The heavens and the Venn, both alike. Nothing but grey, a tough, +damp, cold, liquid and still firm, unfathomable, mysterious, awful +grey. A grey from which those who lose themselves on the moor never +find their way out. The mist is too tenacious. It has arms that grip, +that embrace so tightly, that one can neither see forward nor backward +any more, neither to the left nor to the right, that the cry +that wants to escape from a throat that is well-nigh choked with terror +is drowned, and that the eye becomes blind to every road, every +footprint. + +The driver cursed and beat his horses. There was nothing more to be +seen of the road, nothing whatever, no ditch at the side of it, no +telegraph poles, no small rowan trees. The broad road that had been +made with such difficulty had disappeared in the grey that enfolded the +Venn. It was fortunate that the horses had not lost their way as yet. +They followed their noses, shook their long tails, neighed shrilly and +trotted courageously into the sea of mist. + +Käte shuddered as she wrapped herself and the child up more tightly; +they required all the warm covering now which they had taken with them +so providently. Her husband packed her up still more securely, and then +laid his arm round her as though to protect her. It was a terrible +journey. + +They had had the carriage closed, but the cold grey forced its way +in notwithstanding. It penetrated through all the crevices, through the +window-panes, filled the space inside so that their faces swam in the +damp twilight like pale spots, and laid itself heavily, obstructively +on their breath. + +Käte coughed and then trembled. There was no joy in her heart now, +all she felt was terror, terror on account of the possession she had +had to fight so hard to obtain. If the mother were to come after them +now--oh, that terrible woman with the glittering axe. She closed +her eyes tightly, full of a horror she had never felt the like to +before--oh, she could not see it again! And still she opened her eyes +wide once more, and felt the cold perspiration on her brow and her +heart trembling--alas, that sight would pursue her even in her dreams. +She would not get rid of it until her last hour--never, never +again--she would always see that woman with the glittering axe. + +It had whizzed close past her head--the draught of air caused by it +had made the hair on her temples tremble. It had done nothing to her, +it had only buried itself in the door-post with a loud noise, splitting +it. And still she had come to harm. Käte pressed both her hands to her +temples in horror: she would never, never get rid of that fear. + +Her heart was filled with an almost superstitious dread, a dread as +though of a ghost that haunted the place. Let them only get away from +there, never to return. Let them only destroy every trace as they went +along. That woman must never know where they had gone. She knew +it was to Berlin--they had unfortunately given the vestryman their +address--but Berlin was so far away, the woman from the Venn would +never come there. + +And the Venn itself? Ugh! Käte looked out into the grey mist, +trembling with horror. Thank God, that would remain behind, that would +soon be forgotten again. How could she ever have considered this +desolate Venn beautiful? She could not understand it. What charm was +there about these inhospitable plains, on which nothing could grow +except the coarse grass and tough heather? On which no corn waved its +spikes, no singing-bird piped its little song, no happy people lived +sociably; where there was, in short, no brightness, no loud tones, only +the silence of the dead and crosses along the road. It was awful +there. + +"Paul, let us leave to-day--as quickly as possible," she jerked out, +full of terror, whilst her eyes sought in vain for a glimpse of +light. + +He was quite willing. He felt ill at ease too. If this woman, this +fury, had hit his wife in her sudden outburst of rage? But he +could not help blaming himself: who had bade him have anything to do +with such people? They were not a match for such barbarous folk. + +And he was seized with a feeling of aversion for the child sleeping +so peacefully on his wife's arm. He looked gloomily at the little face; +would he ever be able to love it? Would not the memory of its +antecedents always deter him from liking it? Yes, he had been too +precipitate. How much better it would have been if he had dissuaded his +wife from her wish, if he had energetically opposed her romantic idea +of adopting this child, this particular child. + +He frowned as he looked out of the window, whilst the grey mist +clung to the pane and ran down it in large drops. + +The wind howled outside; it had risen all at once. And it howled +still louder the nearer they approached the top of the high Venn, +whined round their carriage like an angry dog and hurled itself against +the horses' chests. The horses had to fight against it, to slacken +their trot; the carriage only advanced with difficulty. + +The child must never, never know from whence it came, as +otherwise--the new father was wrapped in thought as he stared into the +Venn, whose wall of mist was now and then torn asunder by a furious +gust of wind--as otherwise--what was he going to say? He passed his +hand over his brow and drew his breath heavily. Something like fear +crept over him, but he did not know why. + +As he cast a look at his wife, he saw that she was quite absorbed in +the contemplation of the sleeping child, which did not lessen his ill +humour. He drew away her right hand, with which she was supporting its +head that had fallen back: "Don't do that, don't tire yourself like +that. It will sleep on even without that." And as she gave an anxious +"Hush!" terrified at the thought that the little sleeper might +have been disturbed, he said emphatically, "I must tell you one thing, +my child, and must warn you against it, don't give him your whole heart +at once--wait a little first." + +"Why?" Something in his voice struck her and she looked at him in +surprise. "Why do you say that so--so--well, as if you were vexed?" +Then she laughed in happy forgetfulness. "Do you know--yes, it was +horrible, awful in those surroundings--but thank God, now it's over. A +mother forgets all she has suffered at the birth of her child so +quickly--why should I not forget those horrors to-day too? Do +look"--and she stroked little Jean-Pierre's warm rosy cheek carefully +and caressingly as he slept--"how innocent, how lovely. I am so happy. +Come, do be happy too, Paul, you are generally so very kind. And now +let's think about what we are to call the boy"--her voice was very +tender--"our boy." + +They no longer heard the wind that had increased to a storm by now. +They had so much to consider. "Jean-Pierre," no, that name should not +be kept in any case. And they would go from Spa to Cologne that +evening, as they would not dare to engage a nurse before they were +there; not a single person there would have any idea about the Venn, of +course. And they would also buy all the things they required for the +child in Cologne as soon as possible. + +How were they to get on until then? Paul looked at his wife quite +anxiously: she knew nothing whatever about little children. But she +laughed at him and gave herself airs: when Providence gives you +something to do, it also gives you the necessary understanding. And +this little darling was so good, he had not uttered a sound since they +left. He had slept the whole time as though there was nothing called +hunger or thirst, as though there was nothing but her heart on +which he felt quite at ease. + +It gradually became more comfortable in the carriage. It seemed as +though a beneficial warmth streamed forth from the child's body, as it +rested there so quietly. The breath of life ascended from its strong +little chest that rose and fell so regularly; the joy of life glowed in +its cheeks that were growing redder and redder; the blessings of life +dropped from those tiny hands that it had clenched in its sleep. The +woman mused in silence and with bated breath as she gazed at the child +in her lap, and the man, who felt strangely moved, took its tiny fist +in his large hand and examined it, smiling. Yes, now they were +parents. + +But outside the carriage the air was full of horrors. It is only in +the wild Venn that there can be such storms in autumn. Summer does not +depart gently and sadly there, winter does not approach with soft, +stealthy steps, there is no mild preparatory transition. The bad +weather sets in noisily there, and the warmth of summer changes +suddenly into the icy cold of winter. The storm whistles so fiercely +across the brown plateau that the low heather bends still lower and the +small juniper trees make themselves still smaller. The wind in the Venn +chases along whistling and shrieking, clamouring and howling, pries +into the quagmires and turf pits, whips up the muddy puddles, throws +itself forcibly into the thickets of fir trees that have just been +replanted, so that they groan and moan and creak as they cower, and +then rages on round the weather-worn crosses. + +The blast roars across the moor like the sound of an organ or is it +like the roar of the foaming breakers? No, there is no water there that +rises and falls and washes the beach with its white waves, there is +nothing but the Venn; but it resembles the sea in its wide expanse. +And its air is as strong as the air that blows from the sea, and +the shrill scream of its birds is like the scream of the sea-mew, and +nature plays--here as there--the song of her omnipotence on the organ +of the storm with powerful touch. + +The small carriage crept over the top of the high Venn. The winds +wanted to blow it down, as though it were a tiny beetle. They hurled +themselves against it, more and more furiously, yelped and howled as +though they were wolves, whined round its wheels, snuffed round its +sides, made a stand against it in front and tugged at it from behind as +though with greedy teeth: away with it! And away with those sitting +inside it! Those intruders, those thieves, they were taking something +away with them that belonged to the Venn, to the great Venn alone. + +It was a struggle. Although the driver lashed away at them the brave +horses shied, then remained standing, snorting with terror. The man was +obliged to jump off and lead them some distance, and still they +continued to tremble. + +Something rose out of the pits and beckoned with waving gauzy +garments, and tried to hold fast with moist arms. There was a +snatching, a catching, a reaching, a tearing asunder of mists and a +treacherous rolling together again, a chaos of whirling, twirling, +brewing grey vapours; and plaintive tones from beings that could not be +seen. + +Had all those in the graves come to life again? Were those rising +who had slept there, wakened by the snorting of the horses and the +crack of the whip, indignant at being disturbed in their rest? What +were those sounds? + +The quiet Venn had become alive. Piercing sounds and whistling +shrill cries and groaning and the flapping of wings and +indignant screams mingled with the dull roar of the organ of the +storm. + +A flight of birds swam through the sea of mist. They rowed to the +right, they rowed to the left, looked down uneasily at the strange +carriage, remained poised above it for some moments with wings spread +out ready to strike it to the ground, and then uttered their cry, the +startled, penetrating cry of a wild bird. There was nothing triumphant +about it to-day--it sounded like a lamentation. + +And the Venn wept. Large drops fell from the mist. The mist itself +turned into tears, to slowly falling and then to rushing, streaming, +never-ending tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The Schliebens had reached Berlin safely. Käte was exhausted when she +got out of the train; her hair was untidy, she did not look quite so +smart as usual. It had been no trifle to make that long journey with +the child. But they had been fortunate hi finding a good nurse so +quickly in Cologne--a widow, fond of children and experienced, a +typical, comfortable-looking nurse; however, the mother had had enough +to see to all the same. Had the child caught cold, or did it not like +its bottle? It had cried with all the strength of its lungs--no +carrying about, rocking, dandling, singing to it had been of any +avail--it had cried with all its might the whole way to Berlin. + +But, thank goodness, now they were at home. And everything was +arranged as quickly as if by magic. True, the comfortable house they +had had before was let, but there was villa after villa in the +Grunewald, and, as they required so much more room now, they moved into +one of those. They rented it to begin with. Later on they would no +doubt buy it, as it was quite impossible to take a child like this one +into a town. It would have to have a garden. + +They called him Wolfgang. "Wolf" had something so concise, vigorous, +energetic about it, and--Käte gave a slight happy shudder as she +thought of it--it was like a secret memory of the Venn, of that +desolate spot over which they had triumphed, and to which they made +only this slight concession. And did not "Wölfchen"--if they made that +the diminutive of Wolf--sound extremely affectionate? + +"Wölfchen"--the young mother said it about a hundred times every +day. + +The young mother? Oh yes, Käte felt young. Her child had made her +young again, quite young. Nobody would have taken her for thirty-five, +and she herself least of all. How she could run, how she could fly +upstairs when they said: "The child is awake. It's screaming for its +bottle." + +She, who had formerly spent so many hours on the sofa, never found a +moment's time to lie down the whole day; she slept all the more soundly +at night as a result. It was quite true what she had heard other women +say: a little child claims its mother's whole attention. Oh, how empty, +colourless those days had been in which she had only existed. It was +only now that there was meaning, warmth, brilliancy in her life. + +She walked every day beside the child's perambulator, which the +nurse pushed, and it was a special pleasure to her to wheel the light +little carriage with its white lacquer, gilt buttons and blue silk +curtains herself now and then. How the people stared and turned round +when they saw the handsome perambulator--no, the beautiful child. Her +heart beat with pleasure, and when her flattered ear caught the cries +of admiration, "What a fine child!" "How beautifully dressed!" "What +splendid eyes!"--it used to beat even more quickly, and a feeling of +blissful pride took possession of her, so that she walked along with +head erect and eyes beaming with happiness. Everybody took her to be +the mother, of course, the young child's young mother, the beautiful +child's beautiful mother. How often strangers had already +spoken to her of the likeness: "The exact image of you, Frau Schlieben, +only its hair is darker than yours." Then she had smiled every time and +blushed deeply. She could not tell the people that it really could not +resemble her at all. She hardly remembered herself now that not a drop +of her blood flowed in Wölfchen's veins. + +It looked at her the first thing when it awoke. Its little bed with +its muslin curtains stood near the nurse's, but its first look was for +its mother and also its last, for nobody knew how to sing it to sleep +as well as she did. + + "Sleep sound, sweetest child, + Yonder wind howls wild. + Hearken, how the rain makes sprays + And how neighbour's doggie bays. + Doggie has gripped the man forlorn + Has the beggar's tatter torn----" + +sounded softly and soothingly in the nursery evening after evening, +and little Wolf fell quietly asleep to the sound of it, to the song of +the wind and the rain round defenceless heads, and of beggars whose +garments the dog had torn. + +Paul Schlieben had no longer any cause to complain of his wife's +moods. Everything had changed; her health, too, had become new, as it +were, as though a second life had begun. And he himself? He felt much +more inclination for work now. Now that he had returned to business he +felt a pleasure he had never experienced before when he saw that they +were successful in their new ventures. He had never been enterprising +before--what was the good? He and his wife had ample for all their +requirements. Of course he had always been glad to hear when they had +done a good stroke of business, but he could not say it had ever +pleased him to make money. He had always found more pleasure in +spending it. + +His father had been quite different in that respect. He had never +been so easy-going, and as long as he lived he had always reproached +himself for having let his only son serve as a soldier in a cavalry +regiment. Something of a cavalryman's extravagance had clung to him, +which did not exactly agree with the views of the very respectable +well-to-do merchant of the middle class. And his daughter-in-law? Hm, +the old gentleman did not exactly approve of her either in his heart. +She had too much modern stuff in her head, and Paul had followed her +lead entirely. You could be cultured--why not?--and also take an +interest in art without necessarily having so little understanding for +the real things of life. + +This honest man, this merchant of the old stamp and true son of +Berlin, had not had the joy of seeing what his partners now saw with +unbounded astonishment. They had no need to shrug their shoulders at +the man's lack of interest in the business any longer, and make pointed +remarks about the wife who took up his attention so entirely; now he +felt the interest they wished him to have. He was pleased to fall in +with their plans now. He himself seemed to want, nay, even found it +necessary to form new connections, to extend the calm routine of their +business right and left, on all sides. He showed a capacity for +business and became practical all at once. And in the middle of his +calculations, whilst sitting absorbed at his desk, he would catch +himself thinking: "that will be of use to the boy in the future." But +at times this thought could irritate him so much that he would throw +down his pen and jump up angrily from his desk: no, he had only adopted +the child to please his wife, he would not love him. + +And yet when he came home to dinner on those delightful afternoons, +on which he could smell the pines round his house and the pure +air still more increased the appetite he had got from his strenuous +work, and the boy would toddle up to him patting his little stomach and +cry: "Daddy--eat--taste good," and Käte appear at the window, laughing, +he could not refrain from swinging the hungry little chatterbox high up +into the air, and only put him down on his feet again after he had +given him a friendly slap. He was a splendid little chap, and always +hungry. Well, he would always have sufficient to eat, thank God. + +A certain feeling of contentment would come over the man on those +occasions. He felt now what he had never felt before, that one's own +home means happiness. And he felt the benefit of having an assured +income, that allowed him to enrich his life with all sorts of comforts. +The house was pretty. But when he bought it shortly he would certainly +add to it, and buy the piece of ground next to it as well. It would be +extremely disagreeable if anybody settled down just under their +noses. + +It had been difficult for Paul to make up his mind to take a house +in the Grunewald at the time, after he had lived in Berlin itself as +long as he could remember. But now he looked upon his wife's idea of +going out there as a very good one. And not only for the child's sake. +One enjoyed one's home in quite a different manner out there; one +realised much more what it meant to have a home. And how much healthier +it was--one's appetite certainly became enormous. In time one would +think of nothing but material comforts. And the man followed the hungry +boy into the house, as he also felt quite ready for his dinner. + +Wolfgang Solheid, called Schlieben, received his first trousers. It +was a grand day for the whole house. Käte had him photographed in +secret, as there had never been a boy who looked prettier in +his first trousers. And she placed the picture of the little fellow who +was not yet three years old--white trousers, white pleated tunic, horse +under his arm, whip in his hand--in the middle of her husband's +birthday table, surrounded by a wreath of roses. That was the best she +could give him among all the many presents. How robust Wölfchen was. +They had not noticed it so much before; he was as big as a boy of four. +And how defiant he looked, as bold as a boy of five, who is already +dreaming of fighting other boys. + +The woman showed the man the picture full of delight, and there was +such a gleam in her eyes that he felt very happy. He thanked her many +times for the surprise and kissed her: yes, this picture should stand +near hers on his writing-table. And then they both played with the boy, +who romped about on the carpet in his first pair of trousers, which he +still found rather uncomfortable. + +Paul Schlieben could not remember ever having spent such a pleasant +birthday as this one. There was so much brightness around him, so much +merriment. And even if Wolf had torn his first pair of trousers by +noon--how and where it had been done was quite incomprehensible to the +dismayed nurse--that did not disturb the birthday; on the contrary, the +laughter became all the gayer. "Tear your trousers, my boy, tear away," +whispered his mother, smiling to herself as the damage was pointed out +to her, "just you be happy and strong." + +There was a party in the evening. The windows of the pretty villa +were lighted up and the garden as well. The air was balmy, the pines +spread their branches motionless under the starry sky, and bright +coloured lanterns glittered in the bushes and along the paths that were +overgrown with trees like large glow-worms. + +Wölfchen was asleep on the first floor of the villa, in the +only room that was not brightly lighted up. There was nothing but a +hanging lamp of opal there, and every noise was kept away by thick +curtains and Venetian blinds. But they drank his health downstairs. + +The guests had already drunk the health of the master of the house +at the table, and then that of his amiable wife--what greater honour +could they pay their popular host and hostess now than to drink the +health of the boy--their boy? + +Dr. Hofmann, the tried doctor and friend of the family for many +years, asked if he might have the privilege of saying a few words. +He, as doctor, as counsellor on many an occasion, was best able +to say what had always been wanting there. Everything had been +there, love and complete understanding and also outward happiness, +everything except--here he paused for a moment and nodded to his +hostess who was sitting opposite to him, in a friendly manner full of +comprehension--except a child's laughter. And now that was there too. + +"A child's laughter--oh, what a salvation!" he cried with twinkling +eyes and voice full of emotion, as he thought of his own three, who +were certainly already independent and had chosen their paths in life, +but their laughter still sounded in his heart and ear. + +"No child--no happiness. But a child brings happiness, great +happiness. And especially in this case. For I, as a doctor, have hardly +ever feasted my eyes on a more magnificent chest, a more splendidly +developed skull, straighter legs and brighter eyes. All his senses are +sharp; the lad hears like a lynx, sees like a falcon, smells like a +stag, feels--well, I've been told that he is already up in arms against +the slightest corporal punishment. It is only his taste that is not so +finely developed as yet--the boy eats everything. However, this is +again a new proof to me of his very great physical superiority, +for, ladies and gentlemen"--at this point the doctor gave a jovial +wink--"who does not agree with me? a good stomach that can stand +everything is the greatest gift a kind Providence can give us on our +journey through life. The boy is a favourite of fortune. A favourite of +fortune in the two-fold meaning of the word for not only is he +perfectly happy in himself, but his entry on the scene has also brought +happiness to those around him. Our dear hostess, for example, have we +ever seen her like this before? So young with those who are young, so +happy with those who are happy? And our honoured friend here--nobody +could imagine that he had climbed to the middle of the forties--he is +as full of energy, of plans and enterprise as a man of twenty. And at +the same time he has the beautiful calm, the comfortable appearance of +the happy father who has had his desires gratified. And this fortunate +boy is the cause of it all. Therefore thanks be to the hour that gave +him, the wind that brought him here. From whence----?" + +The doctor, who had a small vein of malice in his nature, here made +a pause intentionally, cleared his throat and straightened his +waistcoat, for he saw many curious eyes fixed on him full of +expectation. But he also saw the quick perturbed look the husband and +wife exchanged, saw that Frau Schlieben had grown pale and was hanging +anxiously, almost imploringly, on his lips, so he continued hastily +with a good-natured laugh: "From whence, ladies--only have patience. +I'll tell you now: he fell from the skies. Just as the falling star +falls to earth on a summer night. And our dear hostess, who was just +going for a walk, held out her apron and carried him home to her house. +And so he has become the star of this house, and we all and I +especially--even if I have become superfluous here in my capacity +of doctor--are pleased with him without asking from whence he came. +All good gifts come from above--we learnt that already in our +childhood--so here's to the health of the boy who fell down to our +friends from the sky." + +The doctor had grown serious, there was a certain solemnity about +him as he raised his champagne glass and emptied it: "God bless him! To +the health of the child, the son of the house. May this fortunate lad +grow, thrive and prosper." + +The finely cut glasses gave a clear and melodious sound as they +clinked them. There was a buzzing, laughter and cheering at the table, +so that the little fellow upstairs in his bed began to toss about +restlessly. He murmured impatiently in his sleep, pouted and lowered +his brow. + +The chairs were moved downstairs. The guests had risen, and, going +up to the parents, had shaken hands with them as though to congratulate +them. Dr. Hofmann had done that really very nicely, really exceedingly +well. But the little fellow was awfully sweet. All the women present +agreed they had rarely seen such a pretty child. + +Käte's heart had beaten a little anxiously when the doctor commenced +to speak--surely he would not betray what had only been confided to him +and the lawyer under the influence of a good glass of wine and a good +dinner?--but it was now full of happiness. Her eyes sought her +husband's, and sent him tender, grateful glances covertly. And then she +went to their old friend, the doctor, and thanked him for all his good, +kind words. "Also in Wölfchen's name," she said in a soft, cordial +voice. + +"So you are satisfied with me all the same? Well, I'm glad." He drew +her arm into his and walked up and down with her somewhat apart +from the others. "I saw, my dear lady, that you grew uneasy when I +began about the boy's antecedents. What kind of an opinion can you have +of me? But I did so intentionally, I have been burning to find +an opportunity to say what I did for a long time. Believe me, if +I got a two-shilling bit every time I've been questioned about the +boy's parentage--either openly or in a roundabout way--I should be a +well-to-do man by now. I've often felt annoyed at the questions; what I +said just now was the answer to them all. I trust they have understood +it. They can keep their surmises to themselves in the future." + +"Surmises?" Käte knit her brows and pressed the doctor's arm. What +did those people surmise?--did they already know something, did they +guess about the Venn? She was seized with a sudden terror. Pictures +passed before her mental vision with lightning speed--there in that +bright festive room--dark pictures of which she did not want to know +anything more. + +"How terrible," she said in a low voice that quivered. If the people +got to know anything, oh, then she did not put her thought into words, +for the sudden dread was almost choking her--then they would not get +rid of the past. Then that woman would come and demand her right, and +could not be shaken off any more. "Do you think," she whispered +hesitatingly, "do you think they--they guess--the truth?" + +"Oh no, they're very far off the mark," laughed the doctor, but then +he grew grave again directly. "My dear lady, let us leave those people +and their surmises alone." Oh dear, now he had meddled with a delicate +subject, he felt quite hot--what if she knew that they thought that her +Paul, that most faithful of husbands, had duties of a special kind +towards the child? + +"Surmises--oh, what is it they surmise?" She urged him to +tell her, whilst her eyes scrutinised his, full of terror. + +"Nonsense," he said curtly. "Why do you want to trouble about that? +But I told you and your husband that at once. If you make such a secret +of the boy's parentage, all kinds of interpretations will be placed on +it. Well, you would not hear of anything else." + +"No." Käte closed her eyes and gave a slight shudder. "He's our +child--our child alone," she said with a strange hardness in her voice. +"And nobody else has anything to do with him." + +He shook his head and looked at her questioningly, surprised at her +tone. + +Then she jerked out: "I'm afraid." + +He felt how the hand that was lying on his arm trembled +slightly. + +Amid the gaiety of the evening something had fallen on Käte's joy +that paralysed it, as it were. Many questions were asked her about +little Wolf--that was so natural, they showed her their friendly +interest by means of these questions--and they watched her quietly at +the same time: it was marvellous how she behaved. They had hardly +believed the delicate woman capable of such heroism. How much she must +love her husband, that she took his child--for the boy must be his +child, the resemblance was too marked, exactly the same features, the +same dark hair--this child of a weak hour to her heart without showing +any ill-will or jealousy. She, the childless woman, to take another +woman's child. That was grand, almost too grand. They did not +understand it quite. + +And Käte felt instinctively that there was something concealed +behind the questions they asked her--was it admiration or compassion, +approval or disapproval?--something one could not get hold of, not even +name, only suspect. And that embarrassed her. So she only gave +reserved answers to their friendly questions about Wölfchen, was +concise in what she told them, cool in her tone, and still she could +not hinder her voice vibrating secretly. That was the tender happiness +she felt, the mother's pride she could not suppress, the warmth of her +feelings, which lent her voice its undertone of emotion. The others +took if for quite a different emotion. + +The ladies, who took a walk in the garden after the dinner was over, +were chatting confidentially together. The paths that smelt of the +pines and in which the coloured lanterns gave a gentle subdued light +were just suitable for that. They wandered about in twos and threes, +arm in arm, and first of all looked carefully to see if there were any +listeners, for their hostess must on no account hear it. There was +hardly one among the ladies who had not made her observations. How well +she bore up. It was really pathetic to see how resentment and +affection, dislike and warmth struggled to get the mastery as soon as +there was any talk about the child. And how a restless look would steal +into her bright eyes--ah, she must have had and still have much to +contend with, poor thing. + +There was only one lady there who said she had known Paul Schlieben +much too long and well not to feel sure that it was ridiculous--nay, +even monstrous--to suppose he would do such a thing. He who was always +such a perfect gentleman, not only in his outward behaviour and +appearance but also in his thoughts, he, the most faithful of husbands, +who even now, after a long married life, was as much in love with his +wife as though they had just been married. The thing was quite +different. They had always wished for children, what was more natural +than that they should adopt one, now that they had finally +given up all hope? Did not other people do the same? + +Of course that happened, there was no doubt about it. But then the +particulars were always given as to whether it was an orphan or the +illegitimate offspring of some one moving in the highest circles, +whether it had been offered in the newspaper--"to be given away to +noble-minded people"--or whether it was the child of a girl who had +been left in the lurch or the unwished-for child of parents belonging +to the labouring classes, who had already been too richly blessed with +children, and so on. Something at least was always known about it. But +in this case why was such a secret made of it? Why did they not say +openly: we have got it from there or there, it happened in such and +such a manner? + +It was difficult to question Frau Schlieben quite openly about the +little one's parentage. They had already gone to her once with that +intention, but as soon as they had introduced the subject such a +terrified expression had come into the woman's eyes, something so shy +and reserved into her manner, that it would have been more than +tactless to continue the conversation. They were compelled to desist +from questioning her--but it was peculiar, very peculiar. + +And the gentlemen in the smoking-room, whom the host had left alone +for a moment, discussed the same theme. The doctor was catechised. + +"I say, doctor, your speech was excellent, worthy of a diplomatist, +but you can't deceive us. You don't know anything about the little +chap's antecedents either? Now come!" It especially puzzled both +partners that Schlieben had told them so little. When everything under +the sun was discussed in business, one had also a certain right to know +the man's private affairs too, especially as they had already worked +with the old gentleman. Where would Paul have been now, if they +two had not safeguarded his interests so energetically at the time when +he put everything else before business? Herr Meier, who was already +elderly and very corpulent, and whose good-natured, intelligent face +bore signs of his fondness for a glass of wine, felt really very hurt +at such a want of confidence: "As though we should have placed any +difficulties in the way--absurd! Doctor, just tell us one thing. Did he +get the boy here?" + +But the other partner, Herr Bormann, who was somewhat choleric and +had to go to Carlsbad every year, interrupted him sharply. "Well, +really, Meier! And what's it to us? They say they have brought him with +them from their last journey, when they were away so long--good. Where +were they last? They went from Switzerland to the Black Forest and then +to Spa, didn't they?" + +"No, to the North Sea," said the doctor quietly. "You can see it as +well, the boy has quite the Frisian type." + +"That boy? With his black eyes?" No, there was nothing to be got out +of Hofmann. He looked so innocent that you might have thought he was +speaking seriously instead of joking. Aha, he had taken his stand; he +had made up his mind not to say anything. They would have to let the +subject drop. + +The doctor, who had already taxed himself with stupidity in his +heart--oh dear, now he had aroused everybody's curiosity instead of +helping the Schliebens--heard the gentlemen pass on to politics with +great relief. + +It was midnight before the last guests left the villa. Their bright +talk and laughter could still be heard distinctly from the end of the +street in the silence of the night, as husband and wife met at the foot +of the stairs leading up to the first floor. + +All the windows of the lower rooms were still open, the silver was +still on the table, the costly china stood about--let the servants put +it away for the time being. Käte felt a great longing to see the child. +She had seen so little of him that day--there had been visitors the +whole day. And then what a number of questions she had had to listen +to, what a number of answers she had had to give. Her head was +burning. + +As she and her husband met--the man was hurrying out of his room, he +had not even given himself time to lock away the cigars--she had to +laugh: aha, he wanted to go upstairs too. She hung on his arm and they +went up together keeping step. + +"To Wölfchen," she said softly, pressing his arm. And he said, as +though excusing himself: "I shall have to see if the noise has not +awakened the boy." + +They spoke in an undertone and moved along cautiously like thieves. +They stole into the nursery--there he lay, so quietly. He had thrown +off the covering in his sleep so that his naked rosy little legs were +visible, and a warm, strong and wonderfully fresh smell ascended from +the child's clean healthy body and mingled with the powerful odour of +the pines, that the night sent into the room through the slightly open +window. + +Käte could not restrain herself, she bent down and kissed the little +knee that showed dimples in its firm roundness. As she looked up again, +she saw her husband's eyes fixed on the sleeping child with a +thoughtful expression. + +She was so used to knowing everything that affected him, that she +asked, "What are you thinking of, Paul? Does anything trouble you?" + +He looked at her absently for a few moments and then past her; he +was so lost in thought that he had not heard her question at all. At +last he murmured, "I wonder if it would not be better to be +open about it? Hm." Then he shook his head and thoughtfully stroked his +beard into a point. + +"What are you saying? What do you mean? Paul!" She laid her hand on +his. + +That aroused him. He smiled at her and said then: "Käte, we must +tell people the truth. Why shouldn't we say where he comes from? Yes, +yes, it's much better, otherwise I fear we shall have a good deal of +unpleasantness. And if the boy does find out in good time that he is +not really our child--I mean our own child--what does it matter?" + +"Good gracious!" She threw up her hands as though horrified. +"No--not for the world--no! Never, never!" She sank down on the bed, +spread both her arms over the child's body as though protecting it, and +nestled her head on the warm little breast. "Then he would be lost to +us, Paul." + +She took a deep breath and trembled. Her voice expressed such +horror, such a terrible fear and prophetic gravity that it startled the +man. + +"I only thought--I mean--I have really long felt it to be my duty," +he said hesitatingly, as though making a stand against her fear. "I +don't like that the--that people--well, that they talk. Don't be so +funny about it, Käte; why shouldn't we tell?" + +"Not tell! You ask why we shouldn't tell? Paul, you know that +yourself. If he gets to know it--oh, that mother! that Venn!" + +She clasped the boy even more tightly; but she had raised her head +from his breast. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked quite +bewildered as they stared at her husband. "Have you forgotten her?" + +Her tremulous voice grew hard. "No, he must never know it. And I +swear it and you must promise me it as well, promise it +sacredly now, here at his bedside whilst he's sleeping peacefully--and +if I should die, not then either, Paul"--her voice grew louder +and louder in her excitement, and its hard tone became almost a +scream--"we'll never tell him it. And I won't give him up. He's my +child _alone_, our child alone." + +Then her voice changed. "Wölfchen, my Wölfchen, surely you'll never +leave your mother?" + +Her tears began to stream now, and whilst she wept she kissed the +child so passionately, so fervently that he awoke. But he did not cry +as he generally did when he was disturbed in his sleep. + +He smiled and, throwing both his little arms round her neck as she +bent down to him, he said, still heavy with sleep, but yet clearly, +plainly, "Mammy." + +She gave a cry of rapture, of triumphant joy. "Do you hear it? He +says 'Mammy.'" + +She laughed and cried at the same time in her excessive joy, and +caught hold of her husband's hand and held it fast. "Paul--daddy--come, +give our child a kiss as well." + +And the man also bent down. His wife threw her arm round his neck +and drew his head still further down quite close to hers. Then the +child laid the one arm round his neck and the other round hers. + +They were all three so close to each other in that calm summer +night, in which all the stars were gleaming and the moonbeams building +silver bridges from the peaceful heavens down to the peaceful +earth. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Those were days of the purest happiness at the Schliebens'. The villa +had been bought now, some rooms had been built on to it, and another +piece of land had been added to the garden as a play-ground. They could +not think of not giving the boy sufficient space to romp about in. Some +sand was brought there, a heap as high as a dune in which to dig. And +when he was big enough to do gymnastics they got him a swing and +horizontal and parallel bars. + +But still it was not sufficient. He climbed over all the fences +round the neighbouring villas, over all the walls that were protected +by barbed wire and pieces of glass. + +"A splendid lad," said Dr. Hofmann when he spoke _of_ Wolfgang. When +he spoke _to_ him he certainly said: "What a little ruffian you are! +Just you wait till you go to school and they'll soon teach you to sit +still." + +Wolf was wild--rather too wild, his mother considered. The boy's +high spirits amused her husband: that was because there was such a +large amount of surplus energy in him. But Käte felt somewhat surprised +at so much wildness--no, she was not really surprised, she knew too +well where all that wildness came from; it frightened her. + +She did not scold him when he tore his trousers--oh, they +could be replaced--but when he came home with the first hole in his +head she became incredibly agitated. She scolded him angrily, she +became unjust. She was quite unable to stop the blood--ugh, how it +ran!--she felt as if she were going to have a fit; she dragged herself +into her room with difficulty and remained sitting silently in a +corner, her eyes staring into space. + +When her husband reproached her for exaggerating in that manner, she +never answered a word. Then he comforted her: she could feel quite easy +now, the thing was of no moment, the hole was sewn up and the lad as +happy as though it had never happened. + +But she shuddered nervously and her cheeks were pale. Oh, if Paul +knew what she had been thinking of, was forced to think of the whole +time! How strange that the same memory did not obtrude itself on him. +Oh, Michel Solheid had laid bleeding on the Venn--blood had dripped on +the ground to-day as on that day. The little boy had not complained, +just as little as his--she fought against using the word even in her +thoughts--as his father, as Michel Solheid had complained. And still +the red blood had gushed out as though it were a spring. How much more +natural it would have been for him to have cried. Did Wolf feel +differently from other children? + +Käte went through the list of her acquaintances; there was not a +single child that would not have cried if he had got such a wound, and +he would not have been considered a coward on that account. There was +no doubt about it, Wölfchen was less sensitive. Not only more +insensible to bodily pain, no--and she thought she had noticed it +several times--also more insensible to emotion. Even in the case of +joy. Did not other children show their happiness by clapping their +hands and shouting? Did not they dance round the thing they +wanted--the toy, the doll, the cake--with shouts of delight? He only +held out his hand for it in silence. + +He took it because he had been told to do so, without all the +childish chatter, without the rapturous delight that makes it so +attractive and satisfactory to give children gifts. + +"As a peasant," her husband used to say. That cut her to the quick +every time he said it. Was Wölfchen really made of such different +material? No, Paul must not say "peasant." Wölfchen was not stupid, +only perhaps a little slow in thinking, and he was shrewd enough. He +had not been born in a large town, that was it; where they lived now +was just like the country. + +"You peasant!" The next time his father said it--it was said in +praise and not to blame him, because he was pleased the boy kept his +little garden so well--Käte flew into a passion. Why? Her husband did +not understand the reason for it. Why should he not be pleased? Had not +the boy put a splendid fence round his garden? He had made a palisade +of hazel-sticks into which he had woven flexible willow-twigs, and then +he had covered the whole with pine branches to make it close. And he +had put beans and peas in his garden, which he had begged the cook to +give him; and now he meant to plant potatoes there as well. Had anybody +told him how to do it? No, nobody. The first-rate cook and the +housemaid were both from a town, what did they know about sowing peas +and planting potatoes? + +"He's a born farmer," said the father laughing. + +But the mother turned away as though in pain. She would much, much +rather have seen her son's garden a mass of weeds than that he should +plant, weed and water so busily. + +She had made him a present of some flowers; but they did not +interest him and he was not so successful with them either. +There was only a large sunflower that grew and grew. It was soon as +high as the boy, soon even higher, and he often stood in front of it, +his childish face raised, gazing earnestly into its golden disc for +quite a long time. + +When the sunflower's golden petals withered--then its seeds ripened +instead and were examined every day and finally gathered--Wolfgang went +to school. He was already in his seventh year, and was big and strong; +why should he not learn with other children now? + +His mother had thought how wonderful it would be to teach him the +rudiments herself, for when she was a young girl with nothing to do at +home and a great wish to continue her studies, she had gone to a +training college and even passed her examination as a teacher with +distinction; but--perhaps that was too long ago, for her strength was +not equal to the task. Especially her patience. He made so little +progress, was so exceedingly slow. Was the boy stupid? No, but dull, +very dull. And it often seemed to her as though she were facing a wall +when she spoke to him. + +"You are much too eager," said her husband. But how on earth was she +to make it clear to him that that was an "A" and that an "O," and how +was she to explain to him that if you put one and one together it makes +two without getting eager? She became excited, she took the ball-frame +and counted the blue and red balls that looked like round beads on a +string for the boy. She got hot and red, almost hoarse, and would have +liked to cry with impatience and discouragement, when Wölfchen sat +looking at her with his large eyes without showing any interest, and +still did not know that one bead and one bead more make two beads after +they had worked at it for hours. + +She saw to her sorrow that she would have to give up the +lessons. "He'll do better with a master," said her husband, +consolingly. And it was better, although it could not exactly be termed +"good." + +Wolfgang was not lazy, but his thoughts were always wandering. +Learning did not interest him. He had other things to think about: +would the last leaves in the garden have fallen when he got home from +school at noon? And would the starling, for whom he had nailed the +little box high up in the pine-tree, come again next spring? It had +picked off all the black berries from the elderberry, and had then gone +away screaming; if it did not find any more elderberries, what would it +eat then? And the boy's heart was heavy with grief--if only he had +given it a little bag of berries when it went away. + +Now the pines in the Grunewald were covered with snow. When Wolfgang +had gone to school that morning, his knapsack on his back, the +housemaid at his side, the white layer had crackled and broken under +his boots. It was very cold. And then he had heard a bird's shriek, +that sounded like a hungry croak. The housemaid thought it was an +owl--pooh, what did she know about it? It was a raven, the hungry +beggar in the jet-black coat, like the one in the primer. + +And the boy was thinking of it now as he sat on the bench, staring +with big eyes at the blackboard, on which the teacher was writing words +they were to find out. How nice it must be under the pines now. There +flew the raven; brushing the snow off the branches with its black +wings, so that it looked like powder as it fell. Where was he going to +fly to? His thoughts flew far, far away after the raven, as they had +done after the starling. The boy's eyes shone, his chest rose with the +deep breath he drew--at that moment the teacher called to him. + +"Wolfgang, are you asleep with your eyes open? What's this?" The boy +gave a start, got red, then pale and knew nothing. + +The other boys almost died of laughing--"Are you asleep with your +eyes open?"--that had been too funny. + +The teacher did not punish him, but Wolfgang crept home as though he +had been punished. He had hidden from the housemaid, who always came to +fetch him--no, he would not go with her to-day. He had also run away +from his comrades--let them fight without him today, to-morrow he would +throw all the more snowballs at them. + +He walked quite alone, turned off from the street and wandered about +aimlessly among the pines. He looked for the raven, but it was far +away, and so he began to run too, run as quickly as he could, and tore +the knapsack off his back with a loud cry, hurling it far from him up +into the broad branches of a pine, so that it hung there and nothing +but snow fell down silently in large lumps. That amused him. He filled +both his hands with snow, made hard balls of it and began to regularly +bombard the pine that kept his knapsack a prisoner. But it did not give +it up, and when he had grown hot and red and tired but very much +cheered, he had to go home without his knapsack. + +The housemaid had been back a long time when he arrived. She opened +the door for him with a red face--she had run so hard after him--and an +angry look. "Hm," she said irritably, "you've been kept, I +suppose?" + +He pushed her aside. "Hold your tongue!" He could not bear her at +that moment, when coming in from outside where everything had been so +quiet, so free. + +His parents were already at table. His father frowned as he +looked at him, his mother asked in a voice of gentle reproach in which +there was also a little anxiety: "Where have you been so long? Lisbeth +has been looking for you everywhere." + +"Well?" His father's voice sounded severe. + +The boy did not give any answer, it seemed to him all at once as +though his tongue were paralysed. What should he tell those people +sitting indoors about what he had been doing outside? + +"He's sure to have been kept at school, ma'am," whispered the +housemaid when she handed the meat. "I'll find it out from the other +boys to-morrow, and tell you about it, ma'am." + +"Oh, you!" The boy jumped up; although she had whispered it in a low +voice, he had heard it all the same. His chair fell down behind him +with a crash, and rushing up to the girl with clenched fist he seized +hold of her so roughly that she gave a shrill scream and let the dish +fall out of her hand. + +"You goose, you goose!" he howled in a loud voice, and wanted to +strike her. His father only pulled him away with difficulty. + +"Wölfchen!" Käte's fork had fallen out of her hand with a clatter, +and she was staring at her boy with dilated eyes. + +The maid complained bitterly. He was always like that, he was +unbearable, he had said before to her: "Hold your tongue!" No, she +could not put up with it, she would rather leave. And she ran out of +the room crying. + +Paul Schlieben was extremely angry. "You are to be civil to +inferiors. You are to be polite to them, just because they have to +serve. Do you hear?" And he seized hold of the boy with a strong hand, +laid him across his knees and gave him the whipping he so well +deserved. + +Wolfgang ground his teeth together and bore the punishment without +uttering a sound and without a tear. + +But every stroke fell on his mother's heart. She felt as if she +herself had been beaten and severely bruised. When her husband took his +usual rest after the stormy dinner, smoked, read the paper and took a +little nap between whiles, she crept up to the nursery in which the boy +had been locked. Was he crying? + +She turned the key softly--he was kneeling on the chair near the +window, his nose pressed flat against the pane, looking attentively out +at the snow. He did not notice her at all. Then she went away again +cautiously. She went downstairs again, but her mind was not +sufficiently at rest to read in her room; she crept about the house +softly as though she had no peace. Then she heard Lisbeth say to the +cook in the kitchen between the rattling of plates: "I shall certainly +not put up with it. Not from such a rude boy. What has he got to do +here?" + +Käte stood rigid, overcome by a terror that paralysed her: what did +she know? She became glowing hot and then icy cold. "Not from such a +rude boy--what has he got to do here?" oh, God, was that the way she +spoke about him? + +She ran up to the nursery; Wölfchen was still kneeling at the +window. + +No other villa obstructed the view there as yet; from the window one +looked out on a large piece of waste ground, where dandelions and +nettles grew in the sand between hedge mustard in the summer time, but +where the snow lay now, deep and clean, untouched by any footstep. The +short winter evening was already drawing to a close, that white field +was the only thing that still glittered, and it seemed to the mother +that the child's face was very wan in the pale light of the luminous +snow. + +"Wölfchen," she called softly. And then "Wölfchen, how could you say +'goose' and 'hold your tongue' to Lisbeth? Oh, for shame! Where did you +get those words from?" Her voice was gentle and sad as she questioned +him. + +Then he turned round to her, and she saw how his eyes burned. +Something flickered in them, that looked like a terrified, restless +longing. + +She noticed that as well, and quite against all rules of pedagogy +she opened her arms and whispered--after it had escaped from her lips +she did not know herself why she had said it, for he had everything, +everything his heart desired--"You poor child!" + +And he ran into her arms. + +They held each other tightly, heart beating against heart. They were +both sad, but neither of them knew the reason why, nor why the other +one was sad. + +"It's not the whipping," he murmured. + +She stroked his straight hair away from his forehead with her soft +hand; she did not ask him any more questions. For--did not something +rise out of that field covered with snow, hover outside the window and +lay its finger on its lips: "Be quiet, do not ask, do not touch +it"? + +But she remained with the boy and played with him; she felt as +though she ought not to leave him alone to-day. Yes, she must pay still +more attention to him in the future. All at once the thought fell on +her heart like a heavy weight: she had already left him much too much +to himself. But then she consoled herself again: he was still so young, +his mind was still a piece of quite soft wax, which she could mould as +she liked. He must never again be allowed to stand at the window +staring out at that desolate field with such burning eyes. What was he +longing for? Was not a wealth of love showered on him? And +everything else that delights a child's heart? + +She looked round his pretty room. Such a quantity of toys were piled +up in it, trains and steamers, tin soldiers and picture books and all +the newest games. + +"Come, we'll play," she said. + +He was quite ready to do so; she was surprised how quickly he had +forgotten his sorrow. Thank God, he was still quite an innocent, +unsuspecting child. But how restlessly he threw the toys about. "That's +stupid," and "that's tiresome"--nothing really absorbed his attention. +She soon felt quite exhausted with all her proposals and her endeavours +to induce him to play this or that game. She did not think she had been +so difficult to satisfy as a child. She had wanted to get up and go +away half a dozen times already--no, she really could not stand it any +longer, she had a frantic headache, it had got on her nerves, it was +certainly much easier to stand at the fire and cook or do housework +than play with a child--but her sense of duty and her love kept her +back every time. + +She must not leave him alone, for--she felt it with a gloomy +dread--for then somebody else would come and take him away from +her. + +She remained sitting with him, pale and exhausted; he had tormented +her a great deal. At last he found a woolly sheep that had been quite +forgotten in the corner of the toy cupboard, a dilapidated old toy from +his childhood with only three legs left. And he amused himself with +that; that pleased him more than the other costly toys. He sat on the +carpet as though he were quite a little child, held the sheep between +his knees and stroked it. + +When he lay in bed at last, she still sat beside him holding his +hand. She sang the song with which she had so often sung him to +sleep: + + "Sleep sound, sweetest child, + Yonder wind howls wild. + Hearken, how the rain makes sprays + And how neighbour's doggie bays. + Doggie has gripped the man forlorn, + Has the beggar's tatter torn--" + +She sang it more and more softly. At last she thought he had fallen +asleep, but then he tore his hand away impatiently: "Stop that song! +I'm not a baby any longer!" + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +It was fortunate that there were no street boys in the Grunewald +colony, as Wölfchen would assuredly have played with them; as it was, +his playfellows were only a hall-porter's children. There was certainly +no want of nicer children to play with; school-fellows whose parents +lived in similar villas to theirs used to invite him; and the families +in Berlin, with whom the Schliebens were on friendly terms and who were +pleased when their children could get out to the Grunewald on their +holidays, often asked him to come and see them too. + +All children liked to come to the shady garden, where Auntie Käte +was always so kind to them. There was always plenty of cakes and fruit +and hoops and balls and croquet and tennis, ninepins and gymnastic +appliances. On sunny afternoons gay laughter and shrieks used to ascend +high up into the green tops of the pines, but--Käte noticed it with +surprise--her boy, who was generally so wild, was the quietest of them +all on those occasions. He did not care for those visits. He did not +care for those well-behaved boys in white and blue sailor-suits, with +their fresh faces showing above their dazzling collars; he never felt +really at home with them. He would have preferred to have run away to a +place far away from there, where nobody else went except now and then a +beggar with a large bag, who would turn over every bit of paper +with his wire hook to see whether something of value had not been left +there the Sunday before. He would have liked to help that man. Or fill +the large bag with pine-cones. + +But still Wolfgang had some friends. There was Hans Flebbe--his +father was coachman at the banker's, who owned the splendid villa on +the other side of the road and lived in Bellevuestrasse in Berlin in +the winter--and there were also Artur and Frida. But their father was +only porter in a villa that was let out to different families. + +As soon as these three came home from school, they would stand +outside the Schliebens' villa. They could not be driven away, they +would wait there patiently until Wolfgang joined them. + +"He's like a brother to my Hans," the coachman used to say, and he +would greet him with a specially condescending flick of his whip from +his high seat. And the porter and his wife used to state with much +satisfaction: "Yes, old Schlieben always touches his hat, and she, his +lady, also says 'how do you do?' to us in a very friendly style, but +the little one, oh, he's quite different." + +Those were wild games the four comrades played together, and in +which Frida was reckoned to be quite a boy: catch, hide and seek, but +best of all, robbers and policemen. How Wolf's eyes sparkled when he, +as the robber captain, gave the policeman, Hans Flebbe, a kick in the +stomach, so that he fell backwards on the ground and lay for a time +without moving from pain. + +"I've shot him," he said to his mother proudly. + +Käte, who had been called to the window by the noisy shrieks of the +children who were rushing about wildly in the waste field behind the +villa, had beckoned to her boy to come in. He had come unwillingly; but +he had come. Now he stood breathless before her, and she +stroked the damp hair away from the face that was wet with +perspiration: "What a sight you look! And here--look." + +She pointed reproachfully to his white blouse that was covered with +dirt. Where in all the world had he made himself so filthy? there were +no real pools there. And his trousers. The right leg was slit open the +whole way down, the left one had a three-cornered hole in the knee. + +Pooh, that was nothing. He wanted to rush away again, he was +trembling with impatience; his playfellows were crouching behind the +bush, they dared not come out before he, their captain, came back to +them. He strove against the hand that was holding him; but his +struggles were of no avail that time, his father came out of the next +room. + +"You are to stop here. You ought to feel ashamed of yourself to +resist your mother like that. Off with you, go to your room and prepare +your lessons for tomorrow." + +Paul Schlieben spoke sharply. It had made him angry to see how the +boy had striven with hands and feet against his delicate wife. + +"You rude boy, I'll teach you how to behave to your mother. +Here"--he seized hold of him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him +up to her--"here, beg her pardon. Kiss your good mother's hand. And +promise not to be so wild again, not to behave like a street-boy. Be +quick--well, are you soon going to do it?" + +The veins on the man's forehead began to swell with anger. What a +stubborn fellow he was. There he stood, his blouse torn open at front +so that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest that was wet +with perspiration--he was not breathing quietly even now, he +was still panting from the rough game--and looking so wild, so +turbulent, not at all like the child of nice parents. This could not go +on any longer. + +"You must not tear about like that any more, do you hear?" said his +father severely. "I forbid it. Play other games. You have your garden, +your gymnastic appliances and a hundred things others would envy you. +And now come here, beg your mother's pardon." + +The boy went to his mother. She met him half way, she held out her +hand to him already. He kissed it, he mumbled also, "I won't do it +again," but the man did not hear any repentance in his voice. There was +something in the sullen way he said it that irritated him. And he lost +control of himself a little. + +"That wasn't an apology. Ask your mother's pardon again--and +distinctly." + +The boy repeated it. + +"And now promise that you will not rush about like that again. 'Dear +mother, I promise'--well?" + +Not a word, no promise. + +"What's the meaning of this?" The man shook the boy, beside himself +with anger. But the boy pressed his lips together. He gave his father +an upward look out of his dark eyes. + +The woman caught the look--oh, God, that was the look!--that +look--the woman's look! + +She put both her arms round the boy protectingly: "Don't, don't +irritate him." She drew him nearer to her and covered his eyes with her +hands, so that he had to close them, and then she cast an imploring +glance at her husband: "Go, do go." + +Paul Schlieben went, but he shook his head angrily. + +"You'll see what your training will make of the boy." He raised his +hand menacingly once more: "Boy, I tell you, you'll have to obey." And +then he closed the door behind him--he could not even have his +midday rest undisturbed now. + +He heard his wife's voice in the next room. It sounded so gentle and +trembled as though with a secret dread. "Wölfchen, Wölfchen, aren't you +my good boy?" + +No answer. Good heavens, had the unfeeling scamp no answer to give +to that question uttered in that tone? + +Then again the soft trembling voice: "Won't you be my good boy?" + +If the boy did not answer now, then--! The blood surged to his head +as he listened against his will, his fingers twitched, he wanted to +jump up and rush in again and--ah, he must have answered now. It was +probably nothing but a silent nod, but Käte's voice sounded intensely +happy: "There you see, I knew you were my good boy, my darling child, +my--my----" + +Hm, it was certainly not necessary for Käte to lavish such endearing +tones on the boy, after he had just been so naughty. And she must have +kissed him, put her arms round him. Her voice had died away in a tender +breath. + +Paul Schlieben did not hear anything more now; neither the rustling +of her dress nor any other sound--ah, she was probably whispering to +him now. How she spoiled the scamp. + +But now--somebody was weeping softly. Was that Wolf's hard, defiant +voice? Yes, he was actually crying loudly now, and between his sobs he +jerked out pitifully--you could hardly understand what he was saying: +"I had to--to shoot him--he's the policeman, you know." + +And now everything was quiet again. The man took up his paper once +more, which he had thrown aside before, and commenced to read. But he +could not fix his attention on it, his thoughts wandered obstinately +again and again to the next room. Had the scamp come to his +senses now? Did he see that he had been naughty? And was not Käte much +too weak? There was nothing to be heard, nothing whatever. But +still--was not that the door that creaked? No, imagination. Everything +was quiet. + +After waiting a little longer he went into the next room. It was +indeed very quiet there, for Käte was quite alone. She was sitting at +the window, her hands in her lap, pondering. Her thoughts seemed to be +far away. + +"Where's the boy?" + +She gave a terrified start, and thrust both hands forward as though +to ward off something. + +He saw now that she was pale. The vexation she had had on account of +the child had probably shaken her a good deal--just let him wait until +he got hold of him, he should do twice as many sums to-day as a +punishment. + +"Is the boy at his lessons?" + +She shook her head and got red. "No." + +"No? Why not?" He looked at her in amazement. "Didn't I tell him +that he was to go to his lessons at once?" + +"You said so. But I told him to run away. Paul, don't be angry." She +saw that he was about to fly into a passion, and laid her hand on his +arm soothingly. "If you love me, leave him. Oh Paul, believe me, do +believe me when I say he can't help it, he must run about, rush about, +be out of doors--he must." + +"You always have some excuse. Just think of the story of the +knapsack when first he went to school--the rascal had thrown it up into +a pine-tree. If a labourer had not found it by accident and brought it +to us, because he read our name on the primer, we might have +looked for it for a long time. You excused that--well, that was nothing +very bad--a fit of wantonness--but now you are excusing something quite +different; and everything." The man, who generally yielded to his wife +in all points, grew angry in his grave anxiety. "I implore you, Käte, +don't be so incredibly weak with the boy. Where will it lead to?" + +"It will lead him to you and me." She pointed gravely to him and +herself. And then she laid her hand on her heart with an expression of +deep emotion. + +"What do you mean? I don't understand you. Please express yourself a +little more clearly, I'm not in a humour to guess riddles." + +"If you can't guess it, you'll not understand it either if I say it +more clearly." She bent her head and then went back to her former seat. +But she was not lost in thought any longer, it seemed to him as if she +were leaning forward to catch the shrill shouts of triumph that rose +high above the roof from the waste field at the back of the house. + +"You'll never be able to manage the boy." + +"Oh yes, I shall." + +"Of course you will, if you let him do exactly what he likes." The +man strode quickly out of the room; his anger was getting the mastery +of him. + +Paul Schlieben was seriously angry with his wife, perhaps for the +first time in their married life. How could Käte be so unreasonable? +take so little notice of his orders, as though he had never given +them--nay, even act in direct opposition to him? Oh, the rascal was +cunning enough, he drew his conclusions from it already. And if he did +not do so as yet, still he felt instinctively what a support he had in +his mother. It was simply incredible how weak Käte was. + +His wife's soft sensitive nature, which had attracted him to +her in the first instance and which had had the same charm for him +all the years they had been married, now seemed exaggerated all at +once--childish. Yes, this timorousness, this everlasting dread of what +was over and done with was childish. They had not heard anything more +about the boy's mother, why then conjure up her shade on all occasions? +They had the boy's birth and baptismal certificates safely in their +hands, and the Venn was far away--he would never see it--why then this +constant, tremulous anxiety? There was no reason whatever for it. They +lived in such pleasant surroundings, their financial position was so +sound, Wolf possessed everything that fills and gladdens a child's +heart, that it was real madness for Käte to suppose that he had a kind +of longing for his home. How in the world should he have got that +longing? He had no idea that this was not really his home. It was sad +that Käte was so hypersensitive. She could positively make others +nervous as well. + +And the man passed his hand over his forehead, as though to drive +disagreeable thoughts away with a movement of his hand. He lighted a +cigar. It was an extra fine one to-day, those he generally left for his +guests; he had the feeling that he must have something to help him over +an unpleasant hour. For the thing was unpleasant, really unpleasant and +difficult, even if he hoped in time to solve the question of how to +train such a child satisfactorily. At any rate not as Käte was doing. +That was clear to him already. + +Paul Schlieben sat in the corner of the sofa in his study, blowing +blue rings of smoke into the air. His brows were still knit. He had +come home very tired from the office that day, where there had been all +sorts of complications--quite enough annoyance--he had had to dictate +some hurried letters, had not allowed himself a moment's +repose, and had hoped to have a pleasant rest at home--but in vain. +Strange how one child can alter the whole household, one's whole life. +If the boy had not been there?... Ah, then he would have had a short +peaceful nap by now, stretched out on the divan with the newspaper in +front of his face, and would be going across to Käte's room for a cosy +chat and a cup of coffee, which she prepared herself so gracefully on +the humming Viennese coffee-machine. He had always liked to sit and +watch her slender, well-cared-for hands move about so noiselessly. It +was a pity. + +He sighed. But then he conquered the feeling: no, one ought not to +wish he were away because of a momentary annoyance. How many happy +hours little Wölfchen had given them. It had been charming to watch his +first steps, to listen to his first connected words. And had not Käte +been very happy to have him--oh, who said _been_ happy?--she was still +so. Nothing could be compared to the boy. And that the hours of +cloudless happiness they had had through him were not so numerous now +as formerly was quite natural. He was not the same little boy any +longer, who had taken his first bold run from that corner over there to +this sofa, and had clung to his father's legs rejoicing at his own +daring; that was all. He was now beginning to be an independent person, +a person with wishes of his own, no longer with those that had been +inculcated; he showed a will of his very own. Now he wanted this and +now he wanted that, and no longer what his teachers wanted. But was not +that natural? On the whole, when a child begins to go to school, what a +great many changes take place. One would have to make allowances, even +if one did not wish to have one's whole way of living influenced by it +first the parents, then the child. + +The man felt how he gradually became calmer. A boy--what a +compound of wildness, roughness, unrestraint, ay, unmannerliness is +included in that word! And all, all who were now men had once been +boys. + +His cigar went out; he had forgotten to smoke it. The man thought of +his own boyhood with a strangely gentle feeling not entirely free from +a faint longing. Let him only be honest: had he not also rushed about +and made a terrible noise, dirtied himself, got hot and torn his +trousers and been up to pranks, more than enough pranks? + +Strange how he all at once remembered some of the severe lectures he +had had given him and the tears he had forced from his mother's eyes; +he also very clearly remembered the whipping he had once got for +telling a lie. His father had said at the time--all at once he seemed +to hear his voice, which had generally sounded anything but solemn, in +fact very commonplace, but which had then been ennobled by the gravity +of the situation, echo in the room: "Boy, I can forgive you everything +else except lies." Ah, it had been very uncomfortable that day in the +small office, where his father had leant against the high wooden desk +holding the stick behind his back. He had pushed the little cap he wore +on account of his baldness to one side in his agitation, his friendly +blue eyes had looked at him penetratingly, and at the same time +sadly. + +"One can forgive everything except lies"--well, had the boy, had +Wolfgang told a lie? Certainly not. He had only been naughty, as the +best children are now and then. + +The man felt ashamed of himself: and he, he had been so displeased +with the boy simply because he had been naughty? + +He got up from the sofa, threw the remains of his cigar into the +ash-tray and went out to look for Wolfgang. + +He came across the four in the height of the game. They had lighted +a small fire on the waste piece of ground close behind the garden +railing, so that the overhanging bushes in the garden formed a kind of +roof over them. + +They were crouching close together; they were in camp now. Frida had +some potatoes in her pinafore, which were to be roasted in the ashes; +but the fire would not burn, the twigs only smouldered. Wolfgang lay on +his stomach on the ground, resting on his elbows, and was blowing with +all the strength of his lungs. But it was not enough, the fire would +not burn on any account. + +Paul Schlieben had come up softly, the children had not noticed him +at all in their eagerness. "Won't it burn?" he asked. + +Wolfgang jerked himself up, and was on his feet in a moment. He had +been red and fresh-looking, but now he grew pale, his frank look fell +timidly, a miserable expression lengthened his round, childish face and +made him look older. + +"Have I to go in?" It sounded pitiful. + +The man pretended not to hear the question; he had really intended +fetching him in, but all at once he hesitated to say so. It was hard +for the boy to have to go away now before the fire burnt, before the +potatoes were roasted. So he said nothing, but stooped down, and as he +was not far enough down even then he knelt down and blew the fire, that +was faintly crackling, with all the breath he had in his broad chest. +Sparks began to leap out at once, and a small flame shot up and soon +turned into a big one. + +There was a shout of glee. Frida hopped about in the circle, her +plaits flying: "It's burning, it's burning!" Artur and Hans chimed in +too; they also hopped from the one foot to the other, clapped their +dirty hands and shouted loudly: "It's burning, it's burning!" + +"Be quiet, children." The man was amused at their happiness. "Bring +me some twigs, but very dry ones," he ordered, full of eagerness, too, +to keep alive this still uncertain flame, that now disappeared, now +flared up again. He blew and poked and added more twigs. The wind drove +the smoke into his face so that he had to cough, but he wiped his eyes, +that were full of tears, and did not mind that his trousers got wet +green spots from kneeling on the ground, and that chance passers-by +would be greatly surprised to see Herr Paul Schlieben occupied in that +manner. He, too, found it fun now to keep up a fire for roasting +potatoes under the pale, blue autumn sky, in which the white clouds +were scudding along and the twittering swallows flying. He had never +known such a thing--he had always lived in a town--but it was splendid, +really splendid. + +The children brought twigs. Wolfgang took them and broke them across +his knee--crack!--the sticks broke like glass. What a knack the boy had +at it. + +The flames flared up, the little fire emitted an agreeable warmth; +one could warm one's hands at it--ah, that was really very nice. + +And then the man followed the smoke, which the wind raised from the +field like a light cloud, with his eyes. It seemed grey at first, but +the higher it flew the lighter it became, and the friendly sunshine +shone through it, transforming it. It floated upwards, ever upwards, +ever more immaterial, more intangible, until it flew away entirely--a +puff, a whiff. + +Now it was about time to bury the potatoes; Wolfgang busied himself +with it. They had not poked the fire any more, the flame had sunk down, +but the ashes hid all the heat. The children stood round with wide-open +eyes, quite quiet, almost holding their breath and yet trembling with +expectation: when would the first potatoes be done? Oh, did +they not smell nice already? They distended their nostrils so as to +smell them. But Paul Schlieben brushed his trousers now and prepared to +go away--it would take too long before the potatoes were ready. He felt +something that resembled regret. But it really would not do for him to +stand about any longer; what would people think of him? + +He was himself again now. "That's enough now," he said, and he went +away, carefully avoiding the impracticable parts of the field where the +puddles were. Then he heard steps close behind him. He turned round. +"Wolf? Well, what do you want?" + +The boy looked at him sadly out of his dark eyes. + +"Are you going home too?" There was astonishment in the man's +question--he had not said that the boy was to go with him. + +The pines emitted a splendid smell, you could breathe the air so +freely, so easily, and that pale blue sky with the fleecy white clouds +had something wonderfully clear about it, something that filled the +eyes with light. White threads floated over the countryside, driven +from the clean east, and hung fast to the green branches of the pines, +shimmering there like a fairy web. And the sun was still agreeably warm +without burning, and an invigorating pungent odour streamed from the +golden-coloured leaves of the bushes that enclosed the gardens at the +back. + +The man drew a deep breath; he felt as if he had suddenly grown ten, +twenty--no, thirty years younger. Even more. + +"Well, run along," he said. + +The boy looked at him as if he had not quite understood him. + +"Run," he said once more curtly, smiling at the same time. + +Then the boy gave a shout, such a shrill, triumphant shout that his +playfellows, who were crouching round the potato fire, joined in +immediately without knowing why. + +There was a gleam in the dark eyes of the boy, who loved freedom, +the free air and to run about free. He did not say his father had made +him happy, but he drew a deep breath as if a load had fallen off his +chest. And the man noticed something in his face, that was now +commencing to grow coarser, to lose the soft contours of childhood and +get the sharp ones of youth, that made it refined and beautiful. + +Wolfgang flew back across the field as quick as lightning, as if +shot from a tightly strung bow. + +The man went back into his garden. He opened the gate cautiously so +that it should not creak, and closed it again just as quietly--Käte +need not know where he had been. But she was already standing at the +window. + +There was something touchingly helpless in her attitude, such an +anxious scrutiny in her eyes--no, she need not look at him like that, +he was not angry with her. + +And he nodded to her. + +When the housemaid asked whether the master did not know where the +young gentleman was--she had had the milk warmed three times already +for him and had run up and downstairs with it--he said in a low voice +with an excuse in the tone: "Oh, that does not matter, Lisbeth. Warm it +for a fourth time later on. It is so healthy for him to be out of +doors." + + + + + +BOOK II + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It was Frida Lämke's birthday. "If you may come we are to have buns +with raisins in, but if you mayn't there'll only be rolls like we have +every day," she said to her friend Wolfgang. "Mind you get them to let +you come." It was of most importance to her that Wolfgang came; no +differences were made on account of Flebbe, although he always said he +was going to marry her. + +And Wolfgang teased his mother. "Let me go--why not? I should like +to so much--why mayn't I?" + +Yes, why not? He had kept dinning this "why not?" into her ears for +the last twenty-four hours; it had quite worn her out. What should she +say to him? that she disliked Frida? But what had the girl done that +she had taken a dislike to her? Nothing. She always curtseyed politely, +was always tidily dressed, had even plaited the blue ribbon into her +fair hair with a certain taste. The parents were also quite respectable +people, and still--these children always hung about the streets, +always, both summer and winter. You could pass their house whenever you +liked, those Lämkes were always outside their door. Was it the life of +the streets this snub-nosed girl, who was very developed for her age, +reminded her of? No, he must not go to those people's house, go down +into the atmosphere of the porter's room. + +"I don't wish you to go there," she said. She had not the heart to +say: "I won't allow it," when he looked at her with those beseeching +eyes. + +And the boy saw his advantage. He felt distinctly: she is struggling +with herself; and he followed it up with cruel pertinacity. + +"Let me--oh, do let me. I shall be so sorry if I can't. Then I +shan't care to do anything. Why mayn't I? Mammy, I'll love you so, if +you'll only let me go. Do let me--will you? But I will." + +She could not escape from him any more, he followed her wherever she +went, he took hold of her dress, and even if she forbade him to ask her +any more, she felt that he only thought of the one thing the whole +time. So he forced her in that way. + +Paul Schlieben was not so averse to his accepting the invitation +from the Lämkes. "Why not? They're quite respectable people. It won't +harm the boy to cast a glance at those circles for once in a way. I +also went to our hall-porter's home as a boy. And why not?" + +She wanted to say: "But that was something quite different, there +was no danger in your case"--but then she thought better of it and said +nothing. She did not want to bring him her fears, her doubts, her +secret gnawing dread so soon again, as there was no manifest reason for +them, and they could not be explained as every other feeling can be +after all. Something like a depressing mist always hung over her. But +why should she tell him so? She neither wanted to be scolded nor +laughed at for it; she would resent both. He was not the same man he +used to be. Oh--she felt it with a slight bitterness--how he used to +understand her. He had shared every emotion with her, every vibration +of her soul. But he had not the gift of understanding her +thoughts now--or did she perhaps not understand him any longer? + +But he was still her dear husband, her good, faithful husband whom +she loved more than anyone else in the world--no, whom she loved as she +loved Wölfchen. The child, oh, the child was the sun round which her +life revolved. + +If Paul only had been as he was formerly. She had to cast a covert +glance at him very frequently now, and, with a certain surprise, also +grow accustomed to his outward appearance. Not that his broadening-out +did not suit him; the slight stoutness his slender figure with its +formerly somewhat stiff but always perfect carriage had assumed suited +his years, and the silver threads that commenced to gleam in his beard +and at his temples. It suited also the comfortable velvet coat he +always put on as soon as he came home, suited his whole manner of +being. Strange that anybody could become such a practical person, to +whom everything relating to business had formerly been such a burden, +nay, even most repugnant. He would not have picked up the strange child +from the Venn now, and--Käte gave her husband a long look--he would not +have taken it home with him now as a gift from fairyland. + +Had the years also changed her in the same manner? Her looking-glass +did not show her any very great change. There was still the same +girlish figure, which seemed twice as slender beside her husband's +stoutness. Her hair was still fair, and she still blushed like a young +girl to whom a stray look is enough to make the blood, that flows so +easily, invade her delicate cheeks. Yes, she had still remained young +outwardly. But her mind was often weary. Wolf caused her too much +anxiety. A mother, who was ten, fifteen years younger than she, would +not perhaps feel how every nerve becomes strained when dealing +with such a child as she did. Would not such a mother often have +laughed when she felt ready to cry? + +Oh, what a boisterous, inexhaustible vital power there was in that +boy! She was amazed, bewildered, exhausted by it. Was he never tired? +Always on his legs, out of bed at six, always out, out. She heard him +tossing about restlessly at daybreak. He slept in the next room to +theirs, and the door between the rooms always stood open, although her +husband scolded her for it. The boy was big enough, did not want +supervising. They need not have that disturbance at night, at any +rate. + +But she wanted to watch over his sleep too; she must do so. She +often heard him talk in his dreams, draw his breath so heavily, as +though something were distressing him. Then she would slip out of bed, +softly, softly, so that her husband should not hear her; she did not +light any candle, she groped her way into the other room on bare feet. +And then she would stand at his bedside. He still had the pretty railed +cot from his first boyhood--but how long would it be before it was too +small? How quickly he was growing, how terribly quickly. She passed her +hand cautiously and lightly over the cover, and felt the boy's long +body underneath it. Then he began to toss about, groan, stiffen himself +like one who is struggling with something. What could be the matter +with him? Then he spoke indistinctly. Of what was he dreaming so +vividly? He was wet through with perspiration. + +If only she could see him. But she dared not light a candle. What +should she say to her husband if he, awakened by the light, asked her +what she was doing there? And Wölfchen would also wake and ask her what +she wanted. + +Yes, what did she really want? She had no answer ready even for +herself. She would only have liked to know what was occupying his mind +in his dream to such an extent that he sighed and struggled. Of what +was he dreaming? Of whom? Where was he in his dream? + +She trembled as she stood at his bedside on her bare feet listening. +And then she bent over him so closely that his breath, uneven and hot, +blew into her face, and she breathed on him again--did not they mingle +their breath in that manner? Was she not giving him breath of her +breath in that manner?--and whispered softly and yet so earnestly, +imploringly and at the same time urgently: "Your mother is here, your +mother is near you." + +But he threw himself over to the other side with a jerk, turned his +back on her and mumbled something. Nothing but incomprehensible words, +rarely anything that was distinct, but even that was enough; she felt +he was not there, not with her, that he was far away. Did his soul seek +the home he did not know in his dreams? that he could not even know +about, and that still had such a powerful influence that it drew him +there even unconsciously? + +Käte stood at Wolfgang's bedside tortured by such an anxiety as she +had never felt before: a mother and still not mother. Alas, she was +only a strange woman at the bedside of a strange child. + +She crept back to her bed and buried her throbbing brows deep in the +pillows. She felt her heart beat tumultuously, and she scolded herself +for allowing her thoughts to dwell on such unavailing things. She did +not change anything by it, it only made her weary and sad. + +When Käte rose after such a night she felt her husband's eyes +resting on her anxiously, and her hands trembled as she coiled +up her thick hair. It was fortunate that she dropped a hair-pin, then +she could stoop quickly and withdraw her tired face with the dark lines +under the eyes from his scrutinising glance. + +"I'm not at all satisfied with my wife's health again," Paul +Schlieben complained to the doctor. "She's in a terribly nervous state +again." + +"Really?" Dr. Hofmann's friendly face became energetic. "I'll tell +you one thing, my dear friend, you must take vigorous measures against +it at once." + +"That's no use." The man shook his head. "I know my wife. It's the +boy's doing, that confounded boy!" + +And he took Wolfgang in hand. "Now listen, you must not always be +worrying your mother like that. If I notice once more that she is +grieving about you because you are naughty, you shall see what I'll do +to you." + +Did he worry his mother? Wolfgang looked very blank. And surely it +was not naughty of him to want to go to the Lämkes? It worried him to +have to sit indoors, whilst the wind was whistling outside and playing +about with one's hair in such a jolly manner. And it worried him, too, +that he was not going to the Lämkes that day. + +"Well then, go," said Käte. She even drove into Berlin before dinner +and bought a doll, a pretty doll with fair locks, eyes that opened and +shut, and a pink dress. "Take it to Frida for her birthday when you +go," she said in the afternoon, putting it into the boy's hands. "Stop! +Be careful!" + +He had seized hold of it impetuously, he was so delighted to be able +to bring Frida something. And in a rare fit of emotion--he was no +friend of caresses--he put up his face in an outburst of gratitude and +let his mother kiss him. He did not want her kiss, but he +submitted to it, she felt that very well, but still she was glad, and +she followed him with her eyes with a smile that lighted up her whole +face. + +"But you must be home again before dark," she called out to him at +the last moment. Had he heard her? + +How he ran off, as light-footed as a stag. She had never seen any +child run so quickly. He threw up his straight legs that his heels +touched his thighs every time. The wind blew his broad-brimmed sailor +hat back, then he tore it off and ran on bareheaded, he was in such a +hurry. + +What was it that drew him so powerfully to those people? + +The smile disappeared from Käte's face; she left the window. + +Wolfgang was happy. He was sitting with the Lämkes, in the room in +which they also did the cooking when the weather was cold. The parents' +bed was divided off by means of a curtain, Frida slept on the sofa, and +Artur in the little room next to it in which were also kept the shovels +and brooms which Lämke used for cleaning the house and street. + +It was not winter yet, still pleasant autumn, but the room was +already warm and cosy. The stronger smell of the coffee, which Frau +Lämke was making in the large enamelled pot, mingled with the delicate +fragrance of the pale monthly rose and carnation, myrtle and geranium, +which had been pushed close to the window that was almost level with +the ground and were all in flower. At home Wolfgang never got coffee, +but he got some there; and he sipped it as he saw the others do, only +he was even more delighted with it than they. And no fine pastry had +ever tasted so good as did that plain bun, that was more like bread +than like a cake. He ate it with his mouth open, and when Mrs. +Lämke pushed a second one to him, the guest of honour, he took it with +radiant eyes. + +Frau Lämke felt much flattered at his visit. But she had not made +much of the doll; she had taken it from Frida at once and locked it +into the cupboard: "So that you don't smash it at once. Besides, your +father isn't a gentleman that you can play with dolls every day." But +later on when her husband came down from the lodge, in which he sat in +his leisure hours mending boots and shoes, to drink a cup of coffee and +eat a bun on Frida's birthday, the doll was fetched out again and shown +him. + +"Fine, isn't it? She's got it from Wolfgang's mamma. Just look, +Lämke"--the woman lifted the doll's pink dress up and showed the white +petticoat trimmed with a frill edged with narrow lace--"such trimming. +Just like that I sewed round the dress Frida wore at her christening. +She was the first one; bless you, and you think at the time it's +something wonderful. Oh dear!"--she sighed and laid the doll back in +the cupboard in which the clean pillowcases and Frida's and her Sunday +hats were together with all kinds of odds and ends--"how time flies. +Now she's already nine." + +"Ten," corrected Frida. "I'm ten to-day, mother." + +"Right--dear me, are you already ten?" The woman laughed and shook +her head, surprised at her own forgetfulness. And then she nodded to +her husband: "Do you still remember, Lämke, when she was born?" + +"If I remember!" he said, pouring another cup out of the +inexhaustible coffee-pot. "Those were nice carryings-on when she was +born--none of that again, thanks. The girl gave you a lot of trouble. +And me too; I was terribly afraid. But that's ten years since, old +woman--why, it's almost forgotten." + +"And if it had happened a hundred years ago I shouldn't have +forgotten it, oh no." The woman put out her hand as though to ward off +something. "I was just going to make myself some coffee about four +o'clock in the afternoon, like to-day, I had got such a longing for it, +and then it started. I just got as far as the passage--do you remember, +you were still working in Stiller's workshop at the time, and we lived +in the Alte Jakob, fifth storey to the left?--and I knocked at +Fritze's, the necktie maker's, whose door was opposite ours, and said: +'Oh, please,' I said, 'send your little one as quickly as you can to +Frau Wadlern, 10, Spittelmarkt, she knows all about it'--oh dear, how +bad I felt. And I fell down on the nearest chair; they had the greatest +difficulty to get me home again. And now it began, I could not control +myself however much I tried; I believe they heard me scream three +houses off. And it lasted, it lasted--evening came on--you came +home--it was midnight--five, six, seven in the morning--then at last at +nine o'clock Frau Wadlern said: 'The child, it'll soon be----'" + +"That's enough now, mother," interrupted the man, glancing sideways +at the children, who were sitting very quietly round the table +listening, with wide-open, inquisitive eyes. "All that's over long ago, +the girl's here, and has been a credit to you so far." + +"She was born at eleven sharp," said Frau Lämke dreamily, nodding +her head at the same time and then drawing a deep breath as if she had +climbed a high mountain. And then, overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure +of a memory that was still so extremely vivid after the lapse of ten +years, she called her daughter, her first-born, to come to her on this +her tenth birthday. + +"Come here, Frida." And she gave her a kiss. + +Frida, who was quite abashed at this unexpected caress, +giggled as she cast a glance at her brother Artur and the two other +boys, and then ran to the door: "Can we go and play now?" + +"Be off with you." + +Then they rushed out of the dark cellar, where the Lämkes lived, in +high spirits. + +It was so light in the street, the sun shone brightly, a fresh wind +was blowing and somebody was flying a kite far away across the field. +There were very few people on foot and no carriages. The road belonged +to them, and they rushed to it with a loud hallo. The one who reached +the lamp-post at the corner first was captain. + +Wolfgang had never allowed anyone to deprive him of this honour +before, but he had to be policeman to-day, he had been the last. He had +followed the others slowly and silently. He had got something in his +head to think about, which made him dull and hindered him from running; +he had to think about it the whole time. He could not get rid of it +even when he was in the midst of his favourite game; the only time he +forgot it was when he was having a good scuffle with Hans Flebbe. The +latter had scratched him in the face, and so he tore a handful of his +hair out. They gripped hold of each other near the next garden-gate. + +Artur, a feeble little creature, had not taken part in the fight, +but he stood with his hands in his pockets giving advice in a +screeching voice to the two who fought in silence. + +"Give him it hard, Flebbe. Your fist under his nose--hard." + +"On with you, Wolfgang. Settle him. Show him what you can do." + +Frida hopped from one leg to the other, laughing, her fair plait +dancing on her back. But all at once her laugh became somewhat +forced and anxious: Hans, who was several years older than Wolfgang, +had got him down on the ground and was hammering him in the face with +his fist. + +"Flebbe, you--!" She pulled his blouse, and as that did not help she +nimbly put her foot out. He stumbled over it, and Wolfgang, quickly +taking advantage of it, swung himself up and belaboured his enemy. + +It was no game any longer, no ordinary scuffle between two boys. +Wolfgang felt his face burn like fire, he had a scratch on his cheek +that went down to his chin, there were sparks before his eyes. All that +had made him so silent before was forgotten, he felt a wild delight and +gave a loud roar. + +"Wolfgang, Wolfgang, no, that's not fair," cried the umpire. "That's +no longer fun." Artur prepared to catch hold of Wolfgang, who was +kneeling on his opponent's chest, by his two legs. + +A jerk and off he flew. Wolf now turned against him, trembling with +rage; his black eyes gleamed. This was no longer a well-dressed child +of better-class parents, this was quite an elementary, unbridled, +unconquered force. He snorted, he panted--at that moment somebody +called. + +"Wolfgang, Wolfgang." + +"Wolfgang," cried Frida warningly, "mother's calling. And your maid +is standing near her beckoning." + +Frau Lämke's voice was again heard, coming from the door of her +house: "Wolfgang, Wolfgang." And now Lisbeth's sharp tones were also +heard: "Well, are you soon coming? You're to come home." + +Frau Lämke laughed. "Oh, leave them, they were so happy." But she +got a fright all the same when she saw the boy's dirty clothes, and +began to brush them. "My goodness, what a sight your pretty blouse +looks--and the trousers." She turned red, and still redder when +she noticed the fiery scratch on the young gentleman's cheek. "They've +made a nice mess of you, the brats. Just you wait until I get hold of +you." She shook her fist at Hans Flebbe and her own children, but her +threat was not meant seriously. Then she said to Lisbeth in an +undertone and with a twitching smile round the corners of her mouth, as +she stood there motionless with indignation: "Wild brats, aren't they? +Well, it'll always be like that, we were all like that when we were +young." And, turning to Wolfgang again, she passed her gnarled hand +over his fiery scratch: "That was fine fun, eh, Wolfgang?" + +"Yes," he said from the bottom of his heart. And when he saw her +looking at him with eyes so friendly and full of comprehension, a great +liking for the woman sprang up in his heart. + +It had been a splendid afternoon. But he did not speak of it as he +went home with Lisbeth; she would have been sure to have turned up her +nose at it. + +"Hm, the mistress is nice and angry," said Lisbeth--she never said +anything but "the mistress" when speaking to the boy. "Why did you stop +there such an everlasting time? Didn't you hear the mistress say you +were to come home before it was dark?" + +He did not answer. Let her chatter, it was not at all true. He +stared past her into the twilight. But when he came into the room on +reaching home, he noticed that his mother had waited for him. She was +certainly not angry, but his evening meal, an egg, a ham sandwich, the +milk in a silver mug, everything neatly prepared, was already there, +and she sat opposite his place with her hands folded on the white table +cloth, frowning impatiently. + +The large hanging-lamp, which cast a bright light on the +table and made her bent head gleam like gold, did not brighten up her +face. + +His mother was in silk, in light silk, in a dress trimmed with lace, +which only had something that looked like a very transparent veil over +the neck and arms. Oh, now he remembered, she was to meet his father, +who had not come home to dinner that day, in town at eight o'clock, and +go to a party with him. Oh, that was why he had had to come home so +early. As if he could not have got into bed alone. + +"You've come so late," she said. + +"You could have gone," he said. + +"You know, my child, that I'm uneasy if I don't know that you are at +home." She sighed: "How could I have gone?" + +He looked at her in surprise: why did she say that? Had somebody +been telling tales about him again? Why was she so funny? + +He gazed at her with wide-open eyes, as though she were a perfect +stranger to him in that dress that left her neck and arms so bare. He +put his food into his mouth lost in thought, and munched it slowly. All +at once he had to think a great deal of what he had heard Frau Lämke +tell. His father and mother had never told anything about when _he_ was +born. + +And suddenly he stopped eating and launched the question into the +stillness of the room, into the stillness that reigned between him and +her: "When I was born, did it last such a long time too?" + +"When what?--who?--you?" She stared at him. + +She did not seem to have understood him. So he quickly swallowed the +food he still had in his mouth and said very loudly and distinctly: +"Did it last such a long time when I was born? It lasted very long when +Frida was. Did you scream too, like Frau Lämke?" + +"I?--who?--I?" She turned crimson and then very pale. She closed her +eyes for a moment, she felt dizzy; there was a buzzing in her ears. She +jumped up from her chair, she felt she must run away, and still she +could not. She clutched hold of the table with shaking hands, but the +strong oak table had turned into something that shook uncertainly, that +moved up and down, slid about. What--what was the boy saying? O +God! + +She bit her lips, drew a deep breath, and was about to say: "Leave +off asking such stupid questions," and yet could not say it. She +struggled with herself. At last she jerked out: "Nonsense. Be quick, +finish eating. Then off to bed at once." Her voice sounded quite +hoarse. + +The boy's astonished look fell on her once more. "Why are you all at +once so--so--so horrid? Can't I even ask a question?" And he pushed his +plate aside sulkily and stopped eating. + +Why did she not answer him? Why did she not tell him something like +what Frau Lämke had told her Frida? Had he not been born as well? And +had not his mother been pleased, too, when he was born? It was very +nasty of her that she did not tell him anything about it. Could she not +see how much, how awfully much he wanted to know something about +it? + +A burning curiosity was aroused in the child all at once. It +tortured him, positively devoured him. He would not be able to sleep +the whole night, he would have to think of it again and again. And he +wanted to sleep, it was tiresome to lie awake--he wanted to know it he +must know it. + +Käte saw how gloomy the boy's face had grown. Oh, the poor, poor +boy. If only she had not let him go to those people. What had he been +told there? What did he know? Had they made him suspicious? What +did those people know? Oh, they had made him suspicious, otherwise +why should he have tormented her with such questions? + +A burning dread filled her mind, and yet her hands and feet were +growing as cold as ice. But her compassion was even greater than her +dread--there he sat, looking so sad and with tears in his eyes. The +poor child, who wanted to know something about his birth, and whom she +could not, would not, dared not tell anything. Oh, if only she could +think of something to say, only find the right word. + +"Wölfchen," she said gently, "you are still too young to hear about +it--I can't tell you about it yet. Another time. You don't understand +it yet. When you're older--I'll tell you it another time." + +"No, now." She had gone up to him, and he caught hold of her dress +and held her fast. He persisted with the dull obstinacy that was +peculiar to him: "Now. I will know it--I must know it." + +"But I--I've no time, Wölfchen. I have to go--yes, I really must go, +it's high time." Her eyes wandered about the room, and she felt quite +flustered: "I--no, I can't tell you anything." + +"You will not," he said. "And still Frau Lämke told her Frida it." +The sulky peevish expression had disappeared from the boy's dark face, +and made way for one of real sadness. "You don't love me half so much, +not in the same way as Frau Lämke loves her Frida." + +She did not love him?--she did not love him?--Käte could have +screamed. If any mother loved her child it was surely she, and still +this child felt instinctively that something was wanting. And was not +that mysterious bond wanting that binds a real mother so indissolubly +and mysteriously, so intimately to her real child? + +"Wölfchen," she said in a soft tremulous voice, "my dear +Wölfchen," and she stroked his hot forehead with her icy cold hand. +"You don't mean what you are saying. We love each other so much, don't +we? My child--my darling child, tell me." + +She sought his glance, she hung on his answer. + +But the answer she longed for did not come. He looked past her. "You +see, you won't tell me anything." + +He seemed to harp on that. This burning desire had taken possession +of him all at once. Somebody had instilled it into him, there could be +no other explanation for it. "Who--" she asked hesitatingly--"who has +told you--you should question me in this manner? Who?" + +She had taken hold of his shoulders, but he wriggled away from under +her touch. "Oh, why are you so funny? No-nobody. But I should like to +know it. I tell you, I should like to know it. It worries me so. I +don't know why it worries me, that's all." + +It worried him--already? So early? Oh, then it was a suspicion, a +suspicion--who knew from whence it came? He suspected what had happened +in his earliest childhood unconsciously. What would happen? "O God, +help me!" she cried to herself. The point now was to invent something, +make something up, devise something. Those torturing questions must +never, never be asked again. + +And she forced herself to smile, and when she felt that her smile +was no smile, she stepped behind his chair and laid her cheek on the +top of his head and both her hands round his neck. He could not look +round at her in that way. And she spoke in the low voice in which fairy +tales are told to children. + +"Father and I had been married a long time--just think, almost +fifteen years!--and father and I wanted so much to have a dear boy or a +dear little girl, so that we should not be so much alone. One day I was +very sad, for all the other women had a dear child, and I was +the only one who had not, and I walked about outside and cried, and +then I suddenly heard a voice it came from heaven--no, a voice--a voice +that--and--and----" She got bewildered, stammered and hesitated: what +was she to say now? + +"Hm," he said impatiently. "And--? Tell me some more. And--?" + +"And next day you were lying in our cradle," she concluded hastily +and awkwardly, in an almost stifled voice. + +"And"--he had pushed her hands away, and had turned round and was +looking into her face now--"that's all?" + +"Well--and we--we were very happy." + +"How stupid!" he said, offended. "That's not 'being born.' Frau +Lämke told it quite differently. You don't know anything about it." He +looked at her doubtfully. + +She evaded his glance, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers. It seemed +to her as if those scrutinising eyes were looking right down into her +soul. She stood there like a liar, and did not know what more to +say. + +"You don't know anything about it," he repeated once more, bitterly +disappointed. "Good night." And he slouched to the door. + +She let him go, she did not call him back to give her his good-night +kiss. She remained sitting without moving. She heard his steps in the +room above. Now he opened the door to throw his boots into the corner +outside, now she heard them fall--now everything was quiet. + +Oh, what was she to say to him later on when he asked her questions +with full knowledge, a man justified in asking questions and demanding +an answer to them? She let herself fall into the chair on which he had +been sitting, and rested her head in her hands. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The boy's friendship with the Lämkes was restricted. Her boy should +never go there again. In a manner Käte had grown jealous of the woman +who spoke of such improper things and did not mind what she said when +children were present. + +Frau Lämke could not boast any longer of receiving a friendly +greeting from the fine lady. Frau Schlieben walked past her house now +without looking at her, and did not seem to hear her respectful: "Good +morning, ma'am." + +"Tell me, Wolfgang, what have I done to your mother?" she asked the +boy one day when she had been out shopping and saw him again for the +first time for several months. He was leaning against the railing that +enclosed the plot of ground opposite their house, staring fixedly at +their door. + +He gave a start; he had not heard her coming. And then he pretended +not to see her, and stood flicking the whip he held in his hand. + +"Are you never coming to see us again?" she went on. "Have you been +having a fight with Artur or been quarrelling with Frida? No, it can't +be that, as they've been looking out for you so long. I suppose your +mother won't let you, is that it? Hm, we're not good enough any more, I +suppose? Of course not. Lämke's only a porter and our children +only a porter's children." + +Her good-natured voice sounded mortified, and the boy listened +attentively. He turned scarlet. + +"Oh, I see, you are not allowed to. All right, stop away then, it's +all the same to me." She turned round to go, full of anger. + +"Well, what do you want now?" A sound from him made her stop; she +remained against her will. There was something in the glance the boy +gave her, as he looked her full in the face, that kept her standing. "I +know, my dear," she said good-naturedly, "it's not your fault. I know +that." + +"She won't let me," he muttered between his teeth, cracking his whip +with a loud noise. + +"Why not?" inquired the woman. "Hasn't she said why you're not to +play with Artur and Frida any more? Artur has got a new humming top--oh +my, how it dances. And Frida a splendid ball from the lady who lives in +our house." + +The boy's eyes flashed. He put out his foot and gave such a violent +kick to a stone in front of him that it flew over to the other side of +the street. "I shall play with them all the same." + +"Come, come, not so defiant," said the woman admonishingly. "It may +be the children were naughty--bless you, you can't be answerable for +all they do. Listen, little Wolfgang, you must obey your mother if she +won't hear of your coming." She sighed. "We've been very fond of you, +my dear. But it's always like that, the friendship is very warm to +begin with, and then all of a sudden the rich think better of it. And +you really are too big to sit with us in the cellar now----" + +She was chattering on, when she felt someone seize hold of her hand. +The boy held it in a very firm grip. Bending down to him--for +she was tall and thin and her eyes were no longer very good owing to +the demi-obscurity of their room--she saw that he had tears in his +eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and got quite a fright. + +"Hush, hush, Wölfchen. Now don't cry, for goodness' sake don't, +it isn't worth it." Taking hold of a corner of her coarse blue +working-apron--she had just run away from the wash-tub--she wiped his +eyes and then his cheeks, and then she stroked the hair that grew so +straight and thick on his round head. + +He stood quite still in the street that was already so sunny, so +spring-like, as though rooted to the spot. He who had shrunk from +caresses allowed her to stroke him, and did not mind if others saw it +too. + +"I shall come to see you again, Frau Lämke. She can say what she +likes. I will come to you." + +As he went away, not running as he usually did, but slowly and +deliberately, the woman followed him with her eyes, and was surprised +to see how big he had grown. + +Käte had no easy time. However much she fought against Wölfchen +having any intercourse with the Lämkes--positively stood out against +it--the boy was stronger than she. He succeeded in gaining his end; the +children were to come to him, even if he might not go to them. In the +garden, at any rate--he had wrung that concession from his mother. + +They had had a struggle, as it were--no loud words and violent +scenes, it is true, no direct prohibitions on her side, no entreaties +on his, but a much more serious, silent struggle. She had felt that he +was setting her at defiance, that the opposition in him increased more +and more until it became dislike--yes, dislike of her. Or did she only +imagine it? + +She would have liked to speak to her husband about it--oh, +how she wanted to do it!--but she dreaded his smile, or his indirect +reproach. He had said a short time ago: "It's no trifle to train a +child. One's own is difficult enough, how much more difficult"--no, he +should not say "somebody else's" again, no, never again. This child was +not somebody else's, it was their own--their beloved child. She gave +way to Wolfgang. Anyhow there was no danger if the children came to him +in the garden; she could always see and hear them there. And she would +be good to them, she made up her mind the children should not suffer +because she had already had to weep many a secret tear at night on her +pillow on account of their friendship. She would make her boy fond of +the garden, so fond that he would never long to go out into the street +again. + +But when she hid the coloured eggs on Easter Sunday, the day she had +given Wölfchen permission to invite the Lämkes and also the coachman's +son into the garden, and put the nests and hares and chickens into the +box-tree that was covered with shoots and among the clusters of blue +scyllas that had just commenced to flower, something like anger rose in +her heart. Now these children would come with their bad manners and +clumsy shoes and tread down her beds, those flower-beds with which they +had taken so much trouble, and in which the hyacinths were already +showing buds under the branches that protected them and the tulips +lifting up their heads. What a pity! And what a pity they would not be +able to enjoy this first really spring day quietly, listening +undisturbed to the piping blackbird. And they had even refused to come. +Hans Flebbe had certainly accepted the invitation without showing any +resentment--the coachman knew what was the right thing to do--but the +Lämkes did not want to come on any account--that is to say, +their mother did not wish it. Lisbeth had been sent there twice; the +second time she had come back quite indignant: "Really, what notions +such people have." "Dear boy, it's no good, they won't come," Käte had +had to say. But then she had noticed how downcast he looked, and in the +night she had heard him sigh and toss about. No, that would not do. She +wanted to feel his arm, which he had flung so impetuously round her +waist when she gave him permission to invite the children, round her +neck too. And then she had sat down and written--written to this +uneducated woman, addressing her as "Dear Madam," and had asked her to +let the children look for eggs to please Wolfgang. + +Now they were there. They stood stiff and silent on the path dressed +in their best clothes, and did not even look at the flower-beds. Käte +had always imagined she understood how to draw out children extremely +well, but she did not understand it in this case. She had praised +Frida's bran-new, many coloured check frock, and had lifted up her fair +plait on which the blue bow was dangling: "Oh, how thick!"--and she had +remarked on Artur's shiny boots and Flebbe's hair, which was covered +with pomade and which he wore plastered down on both sides of his +healthy-looking footman's face with a parting in the middle. She had +also made inquiries about their school report at Easter, but had never +got any longer answer than "yes" and "no." + +The children were shy. Especially Frida. She was the eldest, and she +felt how forced the friendly inquiries were. She made her curtsey as +she always did, quickly and pertly like a water wagtail bobbing up and +down, but her high girl's voice did not sound so clear to-day; the tone +was more subdued, almost depressed. And she did not laugh. +Artur copied his sister, and Hans Flebbe copied the girl too, for he +always considered all she did worthy of imitation. The two boys stood +there, poor little wretches, staring fixedly at the points of their +boots and sniffing, as they dared not take out their handkerchiefs and +use them. + +Käte was in despair. She could not understand that her Wolfgang +could find pleasure in having such playfellows. Moreover, he was +exactly like the others that day, taciturn and awkward. Even when they +commenced to look for the eggs, the children set about it very +stupidly; she had positively to push them to the hiding-place. + +At last, tired out and almost irritable, Käte went indoors; she +would only stop there a short time. No, she could not stand it any +longer, always to have to talk and talk to the children and still not +get any answer out of them. + +But hardly had she reached her room, when she pricked up her ears; a +cry reached her from outside that was as clear, as piercing and +triumphant as a swallow's when on the wing. Children shouted like that +when they were thoroughly happy--oh, she knew that from former times, +from the time before Wölfchen had come. Then she had often listened to +such shouts full of longing. Oh--_she_ had only to go, then the +children were merry, then Wolfgang was merry. She felt very bitter. + +She had gone to the window and was looking out into the garden, with +her forehead pressed against the pane. How they ran, jumped, hopped, +laughed. As though they had been set free. They were trying to catch +each other. Frida darted behind the bushes like a weasel, came into +sight again with a sharp piercing laugh, and then disappeared once more +with a shriek. Wolfgang set off after her wildly. He took no notice of +the beds in which the flowers were growing, his mother's +delight; he jumped into the middle of them, caring little whether he +broke the hyacinths or the tulips, his one thought being to prevent +Frida escaping. + +And the two others copied him. Oh, how they trampled on the beds +now. All three boys were after the girl. The fair plait flew up and +down in the sunshine like a golden cord, now here, now there. At last +Wolfgang seized hold of it with a triumphant shout. Frida endeavoured +to get it away, but the boy held it fast. Then she turned round as +quick as lightning, and, laughing all over her face, grasped him firmly +round the body with both hands. + +It was a harmless merry embrace, a trick of the game--the girl did +not wish to be caught, she wanted to pretend that she had been the +captor--it was quite a childish innocent embrace, but Käte reddened. +She frowned: hardly had she turned her back, when the girl from the +street showed herself. + +And the mother went into the garden again with a feeling of hatred +towards the girl who, in spite of her youth, already endeavoured to +attract her boy. + +If Käte had thought she would earn her boy's boisterous gratitude +that evening after the children had gone home, loaded with Easter eggs +and having had plenty to eat, she was disappointed. Wolfgang did not +say a word. + +She had to ask him: "Well, was it nice?" + +"Hm." + +That might just as well mean yes as no. But she learnt that it had +meant no when she bade him goodnight. It was his father's wish that he +should kiss her hand; he did so that evening as usual with an awkward, +already so thoroughly boyish, somewhat clumsy gesture. His dark smooth +head bent before her for a moment--only a short moment--his +lips just brushed her hand. There was no pressure in the kiss, no +warmth. + +"Haven't you enjoyed yourself at all?" She could not help it, she +had to ask once more. And he, who was candid, said straight out: + +"You always came just when it was nice." + +"Well then, I won't disturb you in the future." She tried to smile. +"Good night, my son." She kissed him, but after he had gone there was a +great terror in her heart, besides a certain feeling of jealousy at the +thought of being superfluous. If he were like that now, what would he +be later on? + +Wolfgang could not complain, his mother let the children come to him +in the garden as often as he wanted them--and he wanted them almost +every day. The friendship that had languished during the winter became +warmer than ever now that it was summer. + +"Pray leave them," Paul Schlieben had said to his wife, as she +looked at him with anxious eyes: what would he say? Would he really not +mind Wolfgang rushing about with those children in his garden? "I think +it's nice to see how the boy behaves to those children," he said. "I +would never have thought he could attach himself to anybody like +that." + +"You don't think it will do him any harm only to associate with +those--those--well, with those children who belong to quite a different +sphere?" + +"Nonsense. Harm?" He laughed. "That will stop of its own accord +later on. I infinitely prefer him to keep to the children of such +people than to those of snobs. He'll remain a simple child much longer +in that manner." + +"Do you think so?" Well, Paul might be right in a manner. Wölfchen +was not at all fanciful, he liked an apple, a plain piece of bread and +butter just as much as cake. But all the same it would have +been better, and she would have preferred it, had he shown himself more +dainty with regard to his food--as well as to other things. She took +great trouble to make him more fastidious. + +When the cook came to her quite indignant one day: "Master Wolfgang +won't have any more of the good saveloy on his bread now, nor of the +joint from dinner either, ma'am he says it's 'always the same.' What am +I to do now?" she was delighted. At last she had succeeded in +instilling into him that people do not swallow everything thoughtlessly +without making any choice, just for the sake of eating something. + +If she had seen how he stuffed bread and dripping with liver and +onion sausage on it down his throat at Frau Lämke's, or gobbled up +potato cake baked in oil hot from the pan, she would not have been so +delighted. But now she was grateful for every finer feeling she thought +she observed in him, be it ever so small. She did not notice at all +what tortures she caused herself in this manner. + +Oh, why did not her husband help her to train him? If only he would. +But he no longer understood her. + +Paul Schlieben had given up remonstrating with his wife. He had done +so several times, but what he had said had had no effect owing to the +obstinacy with which she held fast to her principles. Why should he +quarrel with her? They had lived so many years happily together--it +would soon be their silver wedding--and was this child, this boy who +could hardly write correctly as yet, into whose head the master was +just drilling the first rules in Latin--this child who after all had +nothing to do either with her or him--this outsider to separate him and +his wife now after they had been married so long? Rather than that it +would be better to let many things pass which it would perhaps +have been better for Käte to have done differently. Let her see how she +could manage the boy in her way--she was so very fond of him. And when +he, no longer the plaything, had outgrown her delicate hands, then he, +the man, was still there to make him feel a more vigorous hand. +Fortunately there was no deceit in the boy. + +Paul Schlieben was not dissatisfied with Wolfgang. He certainly did +not show any brilliancy at school, he did not belong to the top boys of +his form by any means, but still he kept quite respectably in the +middle of it. Well, there was no need for him to be a scholar. + +Paul Schlieben had not the same opinion as formerly of the things he +used to find in his younger years the only ones worth considering: +science, art, and their study. Now he was content with his calling as +merchant. And as this child had come into his life, had come into that +position without having done anything to bring it about himself, it was +the duty of him who allowed himself to be called "father" by him to +prepare a future for him. So the man mapped out a certain plan. When +the boy had got so far as to pass the examination that entitled him to +one year's service in the army, he would take him away from school, +send him a year to France, England and possibly also to America, to +firms of high standing in each country, and then, when he had started +from the bottom and learnt something, he would make him a partner. He +thought how nice it would be then to be able to lay many things on +younger shoulders. And the boy would no doubt be reliable; one could +see that already. + +If only Käte did not expect such a ridiculous amount of him. She was +always after the boy--if not in person, then in her thoughts, at any +rate. She worried him--it could not be helped, he was not an +affectionate child--and did it make her happy? + +He had many a time given the boy an imperceptible, pacifying nod, +when his eyes had sought his across the table as though asking for +help. Yes, it was really getting more and more difficult to get on with +Käte. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The Schliebens went away. The husband had consulted the doctor with +regard to his wife, and he had ordered Franzensbad. But it was +absolutely impossible for him to accompany her there. He would employ +the time making some excursions on foot in the Tyrol, as it was a long +time since he had had a holiday. A couple of pounds less in weight +would do him no harm. + +But where was Wolfgang to be meanwhile? + +"At home," said his father. "He's old enough; eleven years. He is at +school in the morning and in the garden in the afternoons, and Hofmann +can come and see him every other day--to reassure you." + +It was an unbearable thought for the mother to leave the child +alone. She would have preferred to take him with her. But Paul had got +vexed: "What next?" And the doctor had said. "On no account." + +Then Käte had wanted to induce her husband to take the boy with him: +"How healthy it would be for him to run about to his heart's content +for once in a way." + +"It seems to me he does enough of that here. Really, Käte, the boy +is as strong as can be, don't always make such a fuss about him. +Besides, I'm not going to take him away from school when it's quite +unnecessary." + +To be sure, he must not lose his place in the form, and possibly +become one of the last. Käte was so ambitious on her son's account. But +as the July holidays were almost over and she had not gone away with +him during that time, which would have been more suitable, she would +remain at home for the present. She declared she could not go away. + +However, the doctor and her husband arranged everything without her; +the more nervously and anxiously she refused to go, the more urgent a +thorough cure seemed to be to them. The day of departure had already +been proposed. + +But Lisbeth gave notice beforehand: no, if the mistress was going +away for so long and the master too, she would go as well. Remain alone +with Wolfgang, with _that_ boy? No, that she wouldn't. + +She must have saved a tidy little sum during the well-nigh ten years +she had been in the house, for even the promise of a rise could not +keep her. She persisted in her wish to leave, and threw an angry look +at the boy, whose laughing face appeared outside above the windowsill +at that moment. + +Käte was beside herself. Not only because she did not want the +servant she had had so long to leave her, but she had reckoned so +firmly on Lisbeth keeping a watchful eye on the boy during her absence. +And it pained her that she spoke of Wolfgang in such a tone full of +hate. What had the child done to her? + +But Lisbeth only shrugged her shoulders without speaking, and looked +sulky and offended. + +Paul Schlieben took the boy in hand. "Just tell me, my boy, what's +been the trouble between you and Lisbeth? She has given notice, and it +seems to me she's leaving on your account. Listen"--he cast a keen +glance at him--"I suppose you've been cheeky to her?" + +The boy's face brightened: "Oh, that's nice, that's nice that she's +going." He did not answer the question that had been put to him at +all. + +His father caught him by the ear. "Answer me, have you been cheeky +to her?" + +"Hm." Wolfgang nodded and laughed. And then he said, still +triumphing in the remembrance: "It was only yesterday. I gave +her a smack in the face. Why does she always say I've no right +here?" + +The man did not tell anything of this to his wife; she would only +have brooded over it. He had not punished the boy either, only shaken +his finger at him a little. + +Lisbeth went away. She left the house, in which she had served +so long and faithfully and in which she had had to put up with so +much--as she weepingly assured her mistress, who was also overcome +with emotion--like an offended queen. + +Another maid had been engaged, one in whom Käte had certainly not +much confidence from the commencement--Lisbeth had straightway given +her the impression of being much more intelligent--but there was no +choice, as it was not the time of year when servants generally leave; +and she had to go to the baths as quickly as possible. + +So Cilia Pioschek from the Warthe district came to the +Schliebens. + +She was a big, strong girl with a face that was round and healthy, +white and red. She was only eighteen, but she had already been in +service a long time, three years as nurse at the farm bailiff's whilst +she still went to school. Paul Schlieben was amused at her--she did not +understand a joke, took everything literally and said everything +straight out just as it came into her head--but Käte called her +behaviour "forward." On the other hand the new maid was on better terms +with the old cook and the man-servant than Lisbeth, as she put up with +a good deal. + +"You can go away with your mind at rest," said Paul. "Do me this +favour, Käte, don't oppose our plan any longer. In six weeks you will +be back again quite well, God willing, and I shall not see these"--he +gave a slight tap with his finger--"these small wrinkles at +the corners of your eyes any more." He kissed her. + +And she returned his kiss, now when she was to be separated from him +for the first time since their marriage for so long; for they had +always, always travelled together before, and since Wölfchen had come +to the house he had only once asked permission to leave her for a +fortnight at the most. She had never left the child alone. And now she +was to leave her dear ones for six long weeks. She clung to him. She +had it on the tip of her tongue to ask him: "Why don't you go with me +as you used to? Franzensbad and Spa--there's surely no great difference +between those two?" But why say it if he had never thought of doing so +for a moment? Years had gone by, and some of the tenderness that had +united them so closely before, that they could only enjoy things +together, and that made them feel they never could be separated, had +disappeared under the winged flight of time. + +She sighed and withdrew quietly from the arm that he had thrown +round her. "If anybody should come in and see us like this. Such an old +couple," she said, trying to joke. And he gave a somewhat embarrassed +laugh, as she thought, and did not try to hold her. + +But when the carriage which was to take her to the station in Berlin +stood before the door early one morning, when the two large trunks as +well as the small luggage had been put on the top of it, when he held +out his hand to help her in and then took a seat beside her, she could +not refrain from saying: "Oh, if only you were going with me. I don't +like travelling alone." + +"If only you had said so a little earlier." He felt quite perturbed; +he was exceedingly sorry. "How easily I could have taken you there the +one day, seen you settled there and come back the next." + +Oh, he did not understand what she meant by "if only you were going +with me." Stay with her there as well--that was what she had meant. + +Her sorrowful eyes sought the upstairs window behind which Wölfchen +was sleeping. She had had to say goodbye to him the evening before, as +she was leaving so early. She had only stood at his bedside with a mute +good-bye that morning, and her gloved hand had passed cautiously over +his head, that rested so heavily on the pillow, so as not to waken him. +Oh, how she would have liked to have said some loving words to him +now. + +"Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy," she said +quickly, hastily, several times after each other, to the cook and +Friedrich, who were standing near the carriage. "And take good care of +him. Do you hear? Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy." +She could not say anything more or think of anything more. "Give my +love to----" + +Then the upstairs window rattled. Stretching both her arms out she +rose half out of her seat. + +The boy put his head out. His cheeks, that were hot with sleep, +showed ruddy above his white night-shirt. + +"Good-bye, good-bye. Come back well. And be sure to write to +me." + +He called it out in a very contented voice and nodded down to her; +and she saw Cilia's round, healthy, white and red face behind his and +heard her friendly laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Käte did not know herself how she got over those weeks in which she was +separated from her home. It was not so bad as she had imagined. She +felt that a greater tranquillity had come over her, a tranquillity she +never could feel at home; and this feeling of tranquillity did her +good. She wrote quite contented letters, and her husband's bright +accounts of "magnificent mountains" and "magnificent weather" delighted +her. She also heard good news from Dr. Hofmann, who used to send her +his reports most faithfully, as he had promised. + +"The boy is in the best of health," he wrote, "you need not worry +about him, my dear lady. He certainly has to do without his playfellows +at present, for a boy and girl are ill, and he feels bored when alone +with the fat boy who is still left. He is generally by himself in the +garden; Friedrich has given him some lettuce plants, and he has also +sown some radishes. I have found him at his lessons as well." + +Thank God! It seemed to the woman as if she could breathe freely +now, as though free from a load. She carried the letter from her old +friend about in her pocket for a long time, read it whilst out for a +walk, when sitting on a bench and in the evening when lying in bed. "A +boy and girl are ill"--oh, the poor children. What could be the matter +with them? But thank God, he was mostly by himself in the +garden now. That was the best. + +She wrote a letter to her boy, a very bright one, and he answered +her in the same strain. The letter in itself was certainly rather +funny. "Beloved mother"--how comical. And the whole wording as though +copied from a polite letter-writer. She made up her mind to enclose it +in her next letter to her husband what would he say to it? "Beloved +mother"--but it pleased her all the same, and also "Your obedient son" +at the end of it. Otherwise the letter really contained nothing, +nothing of what he was doing, not even anything about the Lämkes, also +no longing "come back soon"; but it was written carefully, tidily and +clearly, not such a scrawl as he usually wrote. And that showed her +that he loved her. + +He had also enclosed a little picture, a small square with a border +of lace paper, on which there was a snow-white lamb holding a pink +flag. Under it stood in golden letters, "Agnus Dei, miserere +nobis." + +Where could he have got that from? Never mind from where, he had +wanted to give her something. And the small tasteless picture touched +her deeply. The good boy. + +She put the picture with the lamb of God carefully among her +treasures; it should always remain there. A tender longing came over +her for the boy, and she could not imagine how she had been able to +stand it so long without him. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +August was over and September already almost half gone when Käte +returned home. Her husband, who had returned before her, came to meet +her; they met in Dresden, and their meeting was a very cordial one. +He could never get tired of looking at her bright colour, her bright +eyes; and she on her side found him very sunburnt, more +youthful-looking and almost as slender as formerly. + +They sat hand in hand in the compartment he had had reserved for +them; quite alone like two young lovers. They had an enormous amount to +say to each other--there was nothing, nothing whatever that disturbed +them. They gazed at each other very tenderly. + +"How delighted I am to have you again," she said, after he had told +her a lot about his journey in a lively manner. + +"And I you." He nodded to her and pressed her hand. Yes, it really +seemed to both of them as if they had been separated from each other +for an eternity. He drew her still closer, held her as tightly as +though she were a precious possession that had been half snatched away +from him, and she clung to him, leant her head on his shoulder and +smiled dreamily. + +Innumerable golden atoms danced on a slender slanting sunbeam before +her half-closed eyes. The even rattling of the carriages and the calm +feeling of a great joy in her heart lulled her to sleep. + +Suddenly she started up--was it a jolt, a shock? She had all at once +got a fright, as it were: she had not asked anything about the child as +yet! + +"Wölfchen--what's Wölfchen doing?" + +"Oh, he's all right. But now tell me, darling, how did you spend +the whole day there? How was it divided? In the morning to the +spring--first one glass, after that a second--and then? Well?" + +She did not tell him. "Wölfchen is surely well?" she asked hastily. +"There must be something wrong--you say so little about him. I've had +such a misgiving the whole time. Oh dear, do tell me." Her voice +sounded almost irritable--how could Paul be so indifferent. "What's the +matter with Wölfchen?" + +"The matter?" He looked at her in great surprise. "But why must +there be something the matter with him? He's as strong as a horse." + +"Really? But tell me, tell me something about him." + +He smiled at her impatience. "What is there to tell about such a +boy? He sleeps, eats, drinks, goes to school, comes home, runs out into +the garden, sleeps, eats, drinks again and so on, vegetates like the +plants in the sunshine. It's much better for you to tell me how you +are." + +"Oh, I--I--" that seemed so superfluous to her all at +once--"I--quite well, you can see that." How indifferent he was with +regard to the child. And she--his mother--had been able to forget him +so long too? She felt so ashamed of herself that she hastily raised her +head from her husband's shoulder and sat up straight. Now they were not +lovers any longer, only parents who had to think about their child. + +And she only spoke of the boy. + +Paul felt the sudden change in his wife. It depressed him: had they +gone back to where they were before? Did she already feel no interest +again in anything but the boy? He no longer felt any inclination to +speak of his journey. + +The conversation became more and more monosyllabic; he bought a +paper at the next station, and she leant back in her corner and tried +to sleep. But she did not succeed in doing so, in spite of feeling very +tired; her thoughts continued to revolve round the one point: so there +was nothing the matter with him. Thank God! How indifferent Paul was, +to be sure. Would Wölfchen be very delighted when she came home? The +dear boy--the darling boy. + +She must have slept a little at last nevertheless, for she suddenly +heard her husband's voice, as though far away, saying: "Get +ready, darling; Berlin," and she started up. + +They were already among the innumerable lines that cross each other +there. Then the train rushed into the glass-roofed station. + +"So we've got so far." He helped her out, and she began to tremble +with impatience. Would this running up and down stairs, this crossing +to the other side of the station, and then the waiting and watching for +the train to the suburbs never come to an end? Would not Wölfchen be +asleep? It would be dark before they got home. + +"Is the train soon coming? What time is it? Oh dear, what a long +time we have to wait." + +"Calm yourself, the boy is waiting for you, never fear. He sits a +long time with Cilia every evening; she hasn't much time for him during +the day. A nice girl. You've been very fortunate there." + +She did not catch what he said, she was thinking the whole time how +she would find him. Would he have grown very much? Have changed? +Children at his age are said to change constantly--had he grown ugly, +or was he still so handsome? But never mind! she used to attach more +importance to his outward appearance--as long as he was good, very +good, that was all that mattered now. In her thoughts she could already +hear his shout of joy, already feel his arms round her neck, his kiss +on her mouth. + +The wind, which had become pleasant towards evening after a day that +had been hot in spite of it already being autumn, fanned her face +without being able to cool her cheeks that glowed with emotion. As they +stopped in front of the house, which, with its balconies full of bright +red geraniums, lay prettily concealed behind the evergreen pines under +the starry September sky, her heart beat as though she had run much too +far and too quickly. At last! She drew a deep breath--now she +was with him again. + +But he did not come running to meet her. How strange that he had not +watched for her. + +"They'll be sitting in the veranda at the back," said her husband. +"They always sit there in the evening." He remained behind a little. +Let Käte see the boy alone first. + +And she hurried through the hall past the beaming cook and without +seeing Friedrich, who had donned his livery after decorating all the +rooms with the flowers he had raised himself; she neither admired +his successes in the garden nor the cake the cook had placed on +the festive-looking table. She ran from the hall into her small +sitting-room and from thence through the dining-room, the door of +which led to the verandah. The door was open--now she stood on the +threshold--those outside did not see her. + +There was only one of the shaded lamps on the veranda table that was +burning, but it was bright enough to light up the space around it. But +Cilia was doing nothing. The stocking she was to darn lay in her lap; +her right hand in which she held the long darning-needle rested idly on +the edge of the table. She was leaning back a little; her face, which +looked more refined and prettier in the twilight, was raised; she +seemed to be lost in thought with her mouth half open. + +Nothing was to be seen of Wolfgang. But now his mother heard him +speak in a tone full of regret: "Don't you know any more? Oh!" And then +urgently: "Go on, Cilia, go on, it was so beautiful." + +Ah, now she saw him too. He was sitting at the girl's feet, on quite +a low footstool, leaning against her knee. And he was looking up at her +imploringly, longingly at that moment, looking at her with eyes that +gleamed like dark polished agate, and speaking to her in a +tone his mother thought she had never heard from him before: "Sing, +Cillchen. Dear Cillchen, sing." + +The girl began: + + "Quoth she with voice subdued, 'Cease from quaking-- + +"Oh no. + + "Not in wrath am I before thee standing-- + +"No, not that, either. + + "Only why did I, weak one, believe thy vows-- + +"No, I don't know any more. Well, I never! And I've sung it +so often when I was at home. At home in the village when me and my +sweetheart went for a walk together. Dear, dear"--she stamped her +foot angrily--"that I could forget like that." + +"Don't be vexed, Cillchen. You mustn't be vexed. Begin again from +the beginning, that doesn't matter. I would love to hear it again, +again and again. It's splendid." + +"Cillchen--Cillchen"--how playful that sounded, positively +affectionate. And how he hung on her lips. + +Käte craned her neck forward; she was in the veranda now, but the +two had not noticed her yet. + +The girl sang in a drawling, sing-song voice as she had sung in the +village street at home, but the boy's eyes glistened and grew big as he +listened to her. His lips moved as though he were singing as well: + + "Satin and silk new-wed Henry cover; + Wealthy his bride, brought from land o' Rhine + But serpent stings tease the perjured lover, + Bid slumbers sweet his rich bed decline. + + "The clock strikes twelve: sudden are appearing + Through curtain fringe, fingers, slender, white. + Whom sees he now? His once dear----" + +The singer came to a standstill--suddenly the sound of a +deep-drawn breath passed through the veranda. The boy gave a terrified +shriek--there she stood, there she stood! + +"Why, Wolfgang! Wölfchen!" His mother stretched out her arms to him, +but he buried his head in the girl's lap. + +Käte frowned at the girl: what nonsense to sing such songs to +him. + +"Oh, the mistress!" Cilia jumped up, her face crimson, and let +everything she had on her lap stocking, darning ball, wool and +scissors--fall on the floor; the boy as well. + +Why were they both so terrified? Wolfgang stared at her as if she +were a ghost. + +He had risen now, had kissed his mother's hand, and mechanically +raised his face to receive her kiss; but his face did not show that he +was glad to see her. Or was it embarrassment, a boyish shame because +she had taken him by surprise? His eyes did not gaze straight at her, +but always sideways. Did he look upon her as a stranger--quite a +stranger? + +An inexpressible disappointment filled the heart of the woman who +had just returned home, and her voice sounded harsh without intending +it as she told the girl to go away. She sat down on the seat near the +table, which she had just vacated, and drew her boy toward her. + +"How have you got on, Wölfchen? Tell me--well?" + +He nodded. + +"Have you missed your mother a little?" + +He nodded again. + +"I've brought such a lot of pretty things for you." + +Then he grew animated. "Have you also brought something for Cilia? +She could find use for a workbasket with all kinds of things in it very +well: she has only an old one she used at school, you know. Oh, she can +tell such splendid stories--ugh, that make you shiver. And how she can +sing. Let her sing this one for you: + + "A smart pretty maiden, quite a young sprig, + A farmer did choose for his bride; + Her favours, however, to a soldier man jig, + And sly to her old man she cried-- + +"It's perfectly ripping, I can tell you." + +And he began to hum the continuation with a laugh: + + "He had much better toss the hay, hooray, + The hay, hooray----" + +"Hush!" She put her hand to his mouth. "That's not at all a nice +song--it's a horrid one. You mustn't sing that any more." + +"But why not?" He gazed at her with eyes round with amazement. + +"Because I don't wish it," she said curtly. She was indignant: she +would give the girl a bit of her mind to-morrow, yes, to-morrow. + +Her cheeks were no longer hot. A cold wind blew through the veranda, +which pierced her to the very heart. When her husband called out: "Why, +Käte, what have you been doing with yourself? Do take off your things +first," she quickly answered his call. + +The boy remained alone behind, and looked out into the mild night +that was now quite dark, with blinking, dreamy eyes. Oh, how +beautifully Cilia had sung. She would have to sing and tell him stories +to-morrow as well. But if she were to come there again! Never mind, +they would be sure to be able to find a place where they would be +undisturbed. + +Käte did not sleep at all that first night, although she was +dead-tired. Perhaps too tired. She had had a long talk about it with +Paul after they were in bed. He had said she was right, that neither +the one nor the other song was very suitable, but: "Good gracious, what +a lot of things one hears as a child that never leave any trace +whatever," he had said. + +"Not on _him_." And then she had said plaintively: "I've so +often tried to read something really beautiful to him, the best our +poets have written but he takes no interest in it, he has no +understanding for it as yet. And for such--such"--she sought for an +expression and did not find it--"for such things he goes into raptures. +But I won't allow it, I won't stand it. Such things may not come near +him." + +"Then let her go," he had said testily. He was on the point of +falling asleep, and did not want to be disturbed any more. "Good +night, darling, have a good night's rest. Now that you've come home +again you'll do what you think right." + +Yes, that she would! + +From that day forth she never let the boy out of her sight. And her +ears were everywhere. There was no reason to send the girl away--she +was honest and clean and did her duty--only she must not be alone with +Wölfchen again. Wolfgang was now in his twelfth year, it was not a +maid's place to look after him any more. + +But it was difficult for Käte to live up to her resolutions. Her +husband, of course, had claims on her too, and also her house and her +social life; it was not possible to shake off, give up, neglect +everything else for the one, for the child's sake. Besides, it might +make her husband seriously angry with the child, if she constantly went +against his wishes; she trembled at the thought of it. She had to go +into society with him now and then, he was pleased when she--always +well dressed--was in request as an agreeable woman. He was fond of +going out--and went, alas, much, much too often. So she instructed the +cook and the man-servant--even begged them earnestly to keep a watch on +what was going on. They were quite amazed; if the mistress was so +little satisfied with Cilia, she should give her notice; there +would be girls enough on the 1st of January. + +Käte turned away angrily: how horrid of the servants to want to +drive the other away. And if another one came into the house, might it +not be exactly the same with her? Servants are always a danger to +children. + +Wolfgang was developing quickly, especially physically. It was not +that he was growing so tall, but he was getting broader, becoming +robust, with a strong neck. When he threw snowballs with the Lämkes +outside the door he looked older than Artur, who was of the same age, +even older than Frida. He was differently fed from these children. His +mother was delighted to notice his clear, fresh-looking skin, and saw +that he had plenty of warm baths and a cold sponge down every morning. +And he had to go to the hairdresser every fortnight, where his thick, +smooth mop of dark hair, which remained somewhat coarse in spite of all +the care expended on it, was washed and a strengthening lotion rubbed +into it. The Lämkes looked almost starved when compared with him; they +had not recovered from the effects of scarlet fever very long. If only +Wölfchen did not get it too. His mother had a great dread of it. She +had kept him away from the Lämkes until quite recently; but there was +always the danger of infection at school. Oh dear, one never had peace, +owing to the child. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +They had had a splendid time out of doors. The lake that lies below +the villas like a calm eye between the dark edges of the woods was +frozen; Wolfgang and half of his form had been skating there. Käte had +also walked up and down the shore for some time after their midday +meal, watching her boy. How nicely he skated already. He was more +secure on his legs and skated better than many of the lads who +were describing the figure eight and circles, skating in the Dutch +style and dancing with ladies. He was always trying to do all kinds of +tricks already, he was certainly courageous. If only he did not fall +down or tumble into the water! And he was always skating into the +middle of the lake, where the wisps of straw had been placed to show +that it was dangerous. It seemed to the mother that nothing could +happen to him as long as she stood on the shore watching him +incessantly. But at last her feet were quite frozen, and she had to go +home. + +When the boy came home, as it was commencing to grow dark, he was +very bright. He spoke of the skating with great glee. "Oh, that was +ripping. I should like to run like that for ever--to-morrow, the day +after to-morrow--every day--and further and further every time. The +lake is much too small." + +"Aren't you tired at all?" inquired his mother, smiling at him. She +never grew weary of gazing at him, he looked so beaming. + +"Tired?" The corners of his mouth drooped with a smile that was +almost contemptuous. "I'm never tired. Not of such things. Cilia said +she would like to skate with me some time." + +"Well, why not?" His father, who was sitting at the table drinking +his coffee, smiled good-humouredly; it amused him to tease the lively +boy a little. "Then your mother will have to engage a second housemaid, +as long as there's ice on the ground." + +Wolfgang did not understand that he was bantering. He cried out, +quite happy: "Yes, she must do that." But then his face grew long: "But +she has no skates, she says. Father, you'll have to buy her some." + +"I'l be hanged if I will--well, what next?" His father gave a loud +laugh. "No, my boy, with all due respect to Cilia, it would be +carrying it a little too far to let her skate. Don't you agree with +me?" + +He looked at his wife, who was rattling the cups loudly, quite +contrary to her custom. She said nothing, she only gave a silent nod, +but her face had quite changed and grown cold. + +The boy could not understand it. Why should Cilia not skate? Did not +his mother like her? Funny. It was always like that, whenever there was +anything he liked very, very much, she did not like it. + +He rested his head on both hands as he sat working at his desk: it +felt so heavy. His eyes burnt and watered when he fixed them on his +exercise-book--he must be tired, he supposed. His Latin would not be +good. In his mind's eye he already saw the master shrug his shoulders +and hurl his book on to the bench over so many heads: "Schlieben, ten +faults. Boy, ten faults! If you don't pull yourself together, you'll +not get your remove to Form IV. with the others at Easter." + +Pooh, he did not mind much--no, really not at all. On the whole +nothing was of any importance to him whatever. All at once he felt so +dead-tired. Why did she begrudge Cilia everything? She told such +ripping stories. What was it she had told last night when his parents +were out and she had crept to his bedside? About--about--? He could not +collect his thoughts any more, everything was confused. + +His head sank on his desk; he fell asleep, with his arms stretched +out over his books. + +When he awoke an hour might have passed by, but he did not feel +rested all the same. He stared round the room and shivered. All his +limbs ached. + +And they hurt him the whole night through, he could not sleep; his +feet were heavy as he dragged himself to the lake to skate next +afternoon. + +He returned home from skating much earlier than usual. He did not +want to eat or drink anything, he constantly felt sick. "How green the +boy looks to-day," said his father. His mother brushed his hair away +from his forehead anxiously: "Is anything the matter with you, +Wölfchen?" He said no. + +But when evening came round again and the wind whispered in the +pine-trees outside and a ghostly hand tapped at the window--ugh, a +small white hand as in Cilia's song--he lay in bed, shivered with cold +in spite of the soft warm blankets, and felt his throat ache and his +ears tingle and burn. + +"He's ill," his mother said very anxiously next morning. "We'll get +the doctor to come at once." + +"Oh, it can't be anything much," said the man reassuringly. "Leave +him in bed, give him some lemon to drink so that he can perspire, and +then an aperient. He has eaten something that has disagreed with him, +or he's caught cold." + +But the doctor had to be telephoned for at noon. The boy was +slightly delirious and had a great deal of fever. + +"Scarlet fever!" The doctor examined his chest and then pulled up +the cover again very carefully. "But the rash isn't quite out yet." + +"Scarlet fever?" Käte thought she would have sunk down on her +knees--oh, she had always been so terribly afraid of that. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The clear frosty weather with the bright sunshine and a sky that was +almost as blue as in summer was over. Grey days with a heavy atmosphere +hung over the roof of the villa; Käte, who was standing at the window +in the sick-room, staring out at the tops of the pines that were +mourning in the dull mist with tired eyes, thought she had never seen +anything greyer. + +The disease had seized hold of the boy with powerful grip, as though +his vigorous, well-nourished body were just the sort of hot-bed for the +flames of the fever to rage in. The doctor shook his head: the scarlet +fever had taken such a mild form everywhere else except in this case. +And he warned them against the boy catching cold, prescribed this and +that, did his best--not only as his duty, no, but because he felt such +deep and hearty sympathy for them--he had always been so fond of the +robust lad. They all did their best. Every precaution was taken, every +care--everything, everything was to be done for him. + +Käte was untiring. She had refused the assistance of a nurse; she +violently opposed the wishes both of her husband and her old friend; +no, she wanted to nurse her child alone. A mother does not grow tired, +oh no. + +Paul had never believed that his wife could do so much and be so +patient at the same time--she, that nervous woman, to be so untiring, +so undaunted. She had always had a light step, now she could not even +be heard when she glided through the sick-room; now she was on the left +side of the bed, now on the right. She, whose strength gave way so +easily even if her intentions were good, was always, always on the +spot. There were many nights in which she did not get an hour's sleep. +Next morning she would sit like a shadow in the large arm-chair near +the bed, but still she was full of joy: Wolfgang had slept almost two +hours! + +"Don't do too much, don't do too much," implored her husband. + +She put him off with: "I don't feel it. I'm so fond of doing +it." + +How long was it to go on? Would, could her strength hold out? "Let +the girl sit up with him for one night at least. She would be so glad +to take your place." + +"Cilia? No." + +Cilia had offered her services again and again: oh, she would take +such good care of him, she knew how, for a little brother of hers had +died of scarlet fever. "Let me do it," she implored, "I shall not fall +asleep, I'll take such good care of him." + +But Käte refused. It cut her to the heart every time she heard her +boy say in his feverish dreams during the nights that were so long and +so black: "Cillchen--we'll toss the hay--hooray--Cillchen." + +Oh, how she hated that round-cheeked girl with her bright eyes. But +she feared her more than she hated her. In the hours of darkness, in +those hours in which she heard nothing but the sick boy's moans and the +restless beating of her own heart, this girl seemed to wander about in +another form. She appeared to her out of the night, large and broad, +she stationed herself boldly near the child's bed, and something of the +triumph of power flashed in her eyes, that were otherwise so dull and +unintelligent. + +Then the tired-out woman would press her hands to her throbbing +temples, and stretch out her arms as though to ward her off: no, no, +you there, go away! But the phantom remained standing at the child's +bed. Who was it: the mother--the Venn--the maid--Frau Lämke? Oh, they +were all one. + +Tears of anguish rolled down Käte's cheeks. How the boy laughed now. +She stooped over him so closely that their breaths intermingled, as she +had done once before, and whispered to him: "Your mammy is here, your +mammy is with you." + +But he made no sign of recognition. + +Cilia's face was swollen with weeping as she opened the kitchen door +in the basement on hearing somebody give a gentle knock. Frau Lämke +greeted her in a whisper; she had always sent the children so +far, but they had come home the day before with such a confusing +report, that her anxiety impelled her to come herself. She wanted to +ask how he was getting on. Two doctors' carriages stood outside the +gate, and that had terrified her anew. + +"How is he? How is he to-day?" + +The girl burst into tears. She drew the woman into the kitchen in +silence, where she found the cook leaning against the fireplace without +stirring any pan, and Friedrich just rushing upstairs to answer the +electric bell as if somebody were in pursuit of him. + +"Dear, dear!" Frau Lämke clasped her hands. "Is the boy so bad, +really so bad?" + +Cilia only nodded and hid her streaming eyes in her apron, but the +cook said dully: "It's about over." + +"About over? Will he really die Wolfgang, the boy?" The woman stared +incredulously: that was impossible. But she had turned terribly +pale. + +"Well, it's bad enough," said the cook. "Our doctor has called in +another professor, a very well-known one--he was here yesterday--but +they don't believe that they can do anything more. The illness has +attacked the kidneys and heart. He no longer knows anybody, you know. I +was in the room this morning, I wanted to see him once more--there he +lay quite stiff and silent, as though made of wax. I don't believe +he'll pull through." The good-natured woman wept. + +They all three wept, sitting round the kitchen table. Frau Lämke +entirely forgot that she had made up her mind never to enter that +kitchen again, and that her cabbage, that she had put on for their +dinner, was probably burning. "Oh, dear, oh dear," she repeated again +and again, "how will she get over it? Such a child--and an only child, +whom she adored so." + +Upstairs the doctors were standing at the sick-bed, the old family +doctor and the great authority, who was still a young man. They were +standing on the right and the left of it. + +The rash had quite disappeared; there was not a trace of red on the +boy's face now, and his eyes with their extremely black lashes remained +persistently closed. His lips were blue. His broad chest, which was +quite sunken now, trembled and laboured. + +At every gasping breath he took his mother gasped too. She was +sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, stiffly erect; she had sat +like that the whole night. Her piercing eyes with their terrified +expression flew to the doctors' grave faces, and then stared past them +into space. There they stood, to the right and to the left--but there, +there!--did they not see it?--there at the head of the bed stood +Death! + +She started up with an inarticulate sound, then sank down again as +though broken in spirit. + +The doctors had given the child, who was so dangerously ill, an +injection; his heart was very weak, which made them fear the worst. +Then the authority took leave: "I'll come again to-morrow"--but a shrug +of the shoulders and a "Who knows?" lay in that "I'll come again +to-morrow." + +The family doctor was still there; he could not leave them, as he +was their friend. Käte had clung to him: "Help! Help my child!" Now he +was sitting with Paul Schlieben downstairs in his study; Käte had +wished to remain alone with the sick boy, she only wanted to know that +he was near. + +The two men sat in silence with a glass of strong wine before them. +"Drink, do drink, my dear friend," Paul Schlieben had said to the +doctor; but he did not drink himself. How will she stand it, how will +she stand it? That buzzed in his head the whole time. He was +wrapped in thought, and there were deep lines on his forehead. And the +doctor did not disturb him. + +Käte was on her knees upstairs. She had sunk down in front of the +chair in which she had watched through all those anxious nights, and +was holding her hands pressed against her upturned face. She was +seeking the God on high who had once upon a time laid the child so +benignantly in her path, and was now going to cruelly tear it away from +her again. She cried to God in her heart. + +"O God, O God, don't take him from me. Thou must not take him from +me. I have nothing else in the world beside him. God, God!" + +Her surroundings, all her other possessions--also her husband--were +forgotten. She had only the child now. That one child that was so dear, +so good, so clever, so excellent, so obedient, so beautiful, so +charming, so extremely lovable, that had made her life so happy, so +rich that she would be poor, poor as a beggar were he to leave her. + +"Wölfchen, my Wölfchen!" + +How dear he had always, always been; so entirely her child. She did +not remember anything more about the tears she had shed on his account; +if she had ever shed any, they had been tears of joy, yes, only tears +of joy. No, she could not do without him. + +Starting up from the position in which she had been praying she +dragged herself to his bedside. She took his body, which was growing +cold, into her arms and laid it on her breast in her despair, and her +glowing breath passed all over him. She wanted to let all her warmth +stream into him, to hold him fast to this earth with the force of her +will-power. When his breast fought for air, her breast fought too, when +his heart-beat flagged, hers flagged too. She felt that his +coldness was making her cold, that her arms were stiffening. But she +did not let him go. She fought with Death standing at the head of the +bed--who was stronger, Death or her love, the mother's love? + +Nobody could get her away from the boy's bed, not even the nurse +whom Dr. Hofmann had sent out when he had at last been compelled to go +to town that afternoon. The nurse and her husband attempted to raise +her by gentle force: "Only an hour's rest, only half an hour's. In the +next room or here on the sofa." + +But she shook her head and remained on her knees: "I'm holding him, +I'm holding him." + +Evening came on. Then midnight. It had blown a good deal earlier in +the day, but it was very quiet outside now. As quiet as death. There +was no longer any wind to shake the pines around the house; they stood +bolt upright against the clear, frosty sky, their tops as though cut +out of stiff cardboard. The stars blinked mercilessly; the full moon +was reflected on the glittering silvery surface of the frozen lake, +from which the strong wind had swept all the damp snow the day before +and made it clean. A terrible cold had set hi all at once, which seemed +to lay hold of everything with its icy breath. + +The watchers shivered with cold. When Paul Schlieben looked at the +thermometer, he was horrified to see how little it registered even in +the room. Was the heating apparatus not in order? You could see your +own breath. Had the servants forgotten to put coals on? + +He went down into the basement himself; he could have rung, but he +felt he must do something. Oh, how terribly little you could do. His +wife cowered in the arm-chair in silence now, with large, staring eyes; +the nurse was half asleep, nothing stirred in the room. The boy, too, +was lying as quietly as if he were already dead. + +A great dread took possession of the man, as he groped his way +through the dark house. There was something so paralysing in the +silence; all at once everything, the rooms, the staircase, the hall +seemed so strange to him. Strange and empty. How the breath of youth +had filled them with life before, filled them with the whole untamed +thoughtlessness of a wild boy! + +He leant heavily on the banisters as he groped his way downstairs. +Would the servants still be up? + +He found them all there. They sat shivering round the table in the +kitchen, which was as cold as though there had not been a bright, +blazing fire there all day. The cook had made some strong coffee, but +even that did not make them any warmer. An icy cold crept through the +whole house; it was as though the ice and snow from outside had come +in, as though the chill breath of frozen nature were sweeping through +the house too, from attic to cellar. + +It was no use throwing more coals into the jaws of the huge stove, +or that the water that streamed through all the pipes was hotter. +Nobody's feet or hands were any warmer. + +"We will try what a very hot bath will do for the patient," said the +nurse. She had often seen this last remedy rewarded with success in +similar cases. + +All hands were busy. The cook made a fire, the other two dragged the +boiling water upstairs; but Cilia carried more and was quicker about it +than Friedrich. She felt all the inexhaustible strength of youth in her +that is glad to be able to do something. How willingly she did it for +that good boy. And she murmured a short prayer in a low voice every +time she poured a bucketful into the tub that had been placed near the +bed. She could not make the sign of the cross, as neither of her hands +was at liberty, but she was sure the saints would hear her all the +same. + +"Holy Mary! Holy Joseph! Holy Barbara! Holy guardian angel! Holy +Michael, fight for him!" + +The cook, who remained downstairs in the kitchen, looked for her +hymn-book; she was a Protestant and did not use it every day. When she +found it she opened it at random: the words would be sure to suit. Oh +dear! She showed it to Friedrich, trembling. There was written: + + "When my end is drawing nigh, + Ah, leave me not----" + +Oh dear, the boy was to die. They were both as though paralysed with +terror. + +Meanwhile nimble Cilia was flying up and down stairs. She did not +feel so dismayed any longer. He would not die, she was sure of that +now. + +Whilst those who were in the room lifted him into the bath, Paul +Schlieben and the nurse, and his mother placed her feeble hands +underneath him to support him, Cilia stood outside the door and called +upon all her saints. She would have liked to have had her manual of +devotion, her "Angels' Bread," but there was no time to fetch it. So +she only stammered her "Help" and "Have mercy," her "Hail" and "Fight +for him," with all the fervour of her faith. + +And the boy's pallid cheeks began to redden. A sigh passed his lips, +which had not opened to utter a sound for so long. He was warm when +they put him back into the bed. Very soon he was hot; the fever +commenced again. + +The nurse looked anxious: "Now ice. We shall have to try what +ice-bags will do." + +Ice! Ice! + +"Is there any ice in the house?" Paul Schlieben hurried from the +sick-room. He almost hit the girl's forehead with the door as she stood +praying outside. + +Ice! Ice! They both ran down together. But the cook was at +her wits' end too; no, there was no ice, they had not thought any would +be required. + +"Go and get some, quick." + +The man-servant rushed off, but oh! before he could reach the shop, +awake somebody and return, the flame upstairs might have burnt so +fiercely that there was nothing left of the poor little candle. The man +looked round, almost out of his mind with anxiety, and he saw Cilia +with a chopper and pail running to the back-door. + +"I'm going to fetch some ice." + +"But where?" + +"Down there." She laughed and raised her arm so that the chopper +glittered. "There's plenty of ice in the lake. I'm going to chop +some." + +She was already out of the kitchen; he ran after her without a hat, +without a cap, with only the thin coat on he wore in the house. + +The terrors of the night gave way before the faint hope, and he did +not feel the cold at first. But when the villas were lost sight of +behind the pines, when he stood quit alone on the banks of the frozen +lake that shone like a hard shield of metal, surrounded by silent black +giants, he felt so cold that he thought he should freeze to death. And +he was filled with a terror he had never felt the like to before +a--deadly fear. + +Was not that a voice he heard? Hallo! Did it not come from the wood +that had the appearance of a thicket in the blue, confusing glitter of +the moonlight? And it mocked and bantered, half laughed, half moaned. +Terrible. Who was shrieking so? + +"The owl's screeching," said Cilia, and she raised the chopper over +her shoulder with both hands and let it whiz down with all her might. +The ice at the edge splintered, It cracked and broke; the sound was +heard far out on the lake, a growling, a grumbling, a voice out of the +deep. + +Would the boy die--would he live? + +The man gazed around him with a distraught look. O God! Yes, that +was also in vain--would also be in vain. Despite all his courage he +felt weak as he stood there. Here was night and loneliness and the wood +and the water--he had seen it all before, it was familiar to him--but +it had never been like this, so quiet and still, so alive with terrors. +The trees had never been so high before, the lake never so large, the +world in which they lived never so far away. + +Something seemed to be lurking behind that large pine--was a +gamekeeper not standing there aiming at him, ready to shoot an arrow +through his heart? The silence terrified him. This deep silence was +awful. True, the blows of the chopper resounded, he could hear the echo +across the lake, and nothing deterred Cilia from doing her work--he +admired the girl's calmness--but the menace that lay in the silence did +not grow any less. + +The distracted man shuddered again and again: no, he knew it +now--oh, how distinctly he felt it--nobody could do anything against +that invisible power. Everything was in vain. + +He was filled with a great grief. He seized hold of the pieces of +ice the girl had chopped off with both hands, and put them into the +pail; he tore his clothes, he cut himself on the jagged edges that were +as sharp as glass, but he did not feel any physical pain. The blood +dripped down from his fingers. + +And now something began to flow from his eyes, to drip down his +cheeks, heavy and clammy--slow, almost reluctant tears. But still the +hot tears of a father who is weeping for his child. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"Dear me, how big you've grown!" said Frau Lämke. "I suppose we shall +soon have to treat you as a grown-up gentleman and say 'sir' to +you?" + +"Never!" Wolfgang threw his arms round her neck. + +The woman was quite taken aback: was that Wolfgang? He was hardly to +be recognised after his illness so approachable. And although he had +always been a good boy, he had never been so affectionate as he was +now. And how merry he was, he laughed, his eyes positively sparkled as +if they had been polished. + +Wolfgang was full of animal spirits and a never-ending, indomitable +joyousness. He did not know what to do with himself. He could not sit +still for a moment, his arms twitched, his feet scraped the ground. + +His master stood in terror of him. He alone, the one boy, made the +whole of the fourth form that had always been so exemplary run wild. +And still one could not really be downright angry with him. When the +tired man, who had had to give the same lessons year after year, sit at +the same desk, give the same dictations, set the same tasks, hear the +same pieces read, repeat the same things, had to reprove the boy, +something like a gentle sadness was mingled with the reproof, which +softened it: yes, that was delight in existence, health, liveliness, +unconsumed force--that was youth. + +Wolfgang did not mind the scoldings he got, he had no ambition to +become head of his form. He laughed at the master, and could not even +get himself to lower his head and look sad when his mother waved a bad +report in his face in her nervous excitement: "So that's all one gets +in return for all one's worry?" + +How ambitious women are! Paul Schlieben smiled; he took it more +calmly. Well, he had not had the hard work that Käte had had. As the +boy had missed so many lessons owing to his illness, she had sat with +him every day, and written and read and done sums and learnt words and +rules and repeated them with him indefatigably, and set him exercises +herself besides the schoolwork, and in this manner he had succeeded in +getting his remove into the fourth form with the others at Easter, in +spite of the weeks and weeks he had been away from school. She had +drawn a deep breath of relief: ah, a mountain had been climbed. But +still the road was not straight by any means. When the first blackbirds +began to sing in the garden he became No. 15 in his form--that is to +say, an average pupil--when the first nightingale trilled he was not +even among the average, and when summer came he was among the last in +his form. + +It was too tempting to sow, plant, and water the garden, to lie on +the grass in the warm sunshine and have a sun bath. And still better to +rove about out of doors along the edges of the wood or bathe in the +lake and swim far out, so far that the other boys would call out to +him: "Come back, Schlieben, you'll be drowned." + +"Be thankful that there is so much life in him," said Paul to his +wife. "Who would have thought only six months ago that he would ever be +like this? It is fortunate that he isn't fond of sitting indoors. +'Plenty of fresh air,' Hofmann said, 'plenty of movement. Such +a severe illness always does some harm to the constitution.' So let us +choose the lesser of two evils. But still the rascal must remember that +he has duties to perform as well." + +It was difficult to combine the two. Käte felt she was becoming +powerless. When the boy's eyes, which were as bright as sloes, implored +her to let him go out, she dared not keep him back. She knew he had not +finished his school-work, had perhaps not even commenced it; but had +not Paul said: "One must choose the lesser of two evils," and the +doctor: "Such a severe illness always leaves some weakness behind, +therefore a good deal of liberty"? + +She suddenly trembled for his life; the horror of his illness was +still fresh in her mind. Oh, those nights! Those last terrible hours in +which the fever had risen higher and higher after the hot bath, the +pulse and the poor heart had rushed along at a mad pace, until the ice +from the lake had at last, at last brought coolness, and he had fallen +into a sound sleep, which, when the sky commenced to glow in the east +and a new day had looked in through the window, had turned into a +beneficial, miraculous perspiration. + +So she had to let the boy run about. + +But that he hung on Cilia's arm when she had to go an errand in the +evening, that he hurried after her when she only took a letter to the +box, or that he brought her a chair when she wanted to sit with her +mending-basket under the elderberry bush near the kitchen door was not +to be tolerated. When Käte heard that Cilia had not gone further than +the nearest pines on the edge of the wood when it was her Sunday out, +and had sat there for hours with the boy on the grass, there was a +scene. + +Cilia wept bitter tears. What had she done? She had only told +Wölfchen about her home. + +"What's your home to him? He is to mind his own business and +you yours." Käte was about to say still more, to cry out: "Leave +off telling him your private concerns, I won't have it," but she +controlled herself, although with difficulty. She could have boxed this +round-cheeked girl's ears, as she looked at her so boldly with her +bright eyes. Even Frida Lämke was preferable to her. + +But Frida did not show herself very often now. She already wore a +dress that reached to her ankles, attended a sewing class out of +school-hours, and after her confirmation, which was to be a year next +Easter she was to go "to business," as she said very importantly. + +"I shall give her notice," said Käte one evening, when Cilia had +cleared the table and she was sitting quite alone with her husband. + +"Oh!" He had not really been listening. "Why?" + +"Because of her behaviour." The woman's voice vibrated with +suppressed indignation more than that, with passionate excitement. Her +eyes, which were generally golden brown and gentle, became dark and +sombre. + +"Why, you're actually trembling! What is the matter now?" He laid +the paper he was about to read aside, quite depressed. There was some +trouble with the boy again; nothing else excited her in that +manner. + +"I can't have it any longer." Her voice was hard, had lost its +charm. "And I won't stand it. Just think, when I came home to-day I was +away an hour towards evening, hardly an hour good gracious, you cannot +always be spying, you demean yourself in your own eyes." Her hands +closed over each other, gripped each other so tightly that the knuckles +showed quite white. "I had left him at his desk, he had so much to do, +and when I returned not a stroke had been done. But I heard--heard them +downstairs, at the back of the house near the kitchen door." + +"Heard whom?" + +"Wolfgang and her, of course--Cilia. I had only been away quite a +short time." + +"Well--and then?" + +She had stopped and sighed, full of a deep distress which drove away +the anger from her eyes. + +"He put his arms round her neck from behind. And he kissed her. +'Dear Cillchen,' he said. And she drew him towards her, took him almost +on her lap--he is much too big for that, much too big--and spoke softly +to him the whole time." + +"Did you understand what she said?" + +"No. But they laughed. And then she gave him a slap behind--you +should only have seen it--and then he gave her one. They took turns to +slap each other. Do you consider that proper?" + +"That goes too far, you are right. But it's nothing bad. She is a +good girl, quite unspoilt as yet, and he a stupid boy. Surely you don't +intend to send the girl away for that? For goodness' sake, Käte, think +it well over. Did they see you?" + +"No." + +"Well, then, don't do it. It's much wiser. I'll speak to the boy +some time when I find an opportunity." + +"And you think I couldn't--I can't--I mustn't send her away?" Käte +had grown quite dejected in the presence of his calmness. + +"There's no reason whatever for it." He was fully convinced of what +he said, and wanted to take up his paper again. Then he caught her +eyes, and stretched out his hand to her across the table. "Dear child, +don't take everything so much to heart. You're making your life +miserable--your own, the boy's--and--yes, mine too. Take +things easier. There! And now I'll read my paper at last." + +Käte got up quietly--he was all right, he was reading. She had not +given him her hand. His calmness hurt her. It was more than calmness, +it was indifference, slackness. But she would not be slack, no, she +would not get tired of doing her duty. + +And she went after her boy. + +Wolfgang was already upstairs in his room. But he had first crept +softly up to Cilia, who was drying the plates and dishes in the +kitchen, from behind, had given her a pinch and then thrown both arms +round her and begged for a story: "Tell me something"--but she would +not. + +"I don't know anything." + +"Oh, do tell me something. About the procession. Or even if it's +only about your sow. How many little ones did she have last time?" + +"Thirteen." Cilia could not resist _that_ question, but still she +remained taciturn. + +"Is your cow going to calve this year too? How many cows has the +biggest farmer near you? You know, the one down near the Warthe, +Hauländer. Do tell me." He knew all about everything, knew all the +people at her home and all the cattle. He could never get tired of +hearing about them and about the country where the bells tinkle for +matins and vespers or call with a deep, solemn sound for high mass on +Sundays. He was so very fond of hearing about the country, about the +large fields in which the blue flax and golden rye grow, about the +bluish line of forest on the horizon, about the wide, wide stretches of +heath, where the bees buzz busily over the blooming heather and the +fen-fowls screech near the quiet waters in the evening, when the sky +and the sun are reflected red in them. + +"Tell me about it," he begged and urged her. + +But she was reluctant and shook her head. "No, go away; no, I won't. +The mistress has been looking at me like that again this evening--oh, +like--no, I can't explain. I believe she's going to give me +notice." + +He had crept up to his room in a sulk and undressed himself. He had +grown so accustomed to it that he could not sleep now when Cilia did +not tell him something first. Then he fell into such a quiet sleep, and +dreamt so beautifully of wide stretches of heather covered with red +blossoms, and of quiet waters near which the fen-fowls screeched, which +he went out to shoot. + +Oh, that Cilia, what was the matter with her to-day? How stupid! +"The mistress is going to give me notice." Nonsense, as if he would +stand that. And he clenched his hand. + +Then the door creaked. + +He craned his neck forward: was it she? Was she coming, after all? +It was his mother. He slipped hastily into bed and drew the covering up +to his forehead. Let her think he was already asleep. + +But she did not think so and said: "So you're still awake?" and she +sat down on the chair near his bed on which his things were. Cilia +always sat there too. He compared the two faces in silence. Oh, Cilia +was much prettier, so white and red, and she had dimples in her fat +cheeks when she laughed, and she was so jolly. But his mother was not +ugly either. + +He looked at her attentively; and then suddenly a hitherto quite +unknown feeling came over him: oh, what narrow cheeks she had. And the +soft hair near her temples--was--was---- + +"You're getting quite grey," he said all at once, quite dismayed, +and stretched out his finger. "There, quite grey." + +She nodded. A look of displeasure lengthened her delicate face, and +made it appear still narrower. + +"You should laugh more," he advised. "Then people would never see +you had wrinkles." + +Wrinkles--oh yes, wrinkles. She passed her hand over her forehead +nervously. What uncharitable eyes children had. Youth and beauty had no +doubt disappeared for ever--but it was this boy who had deprived her of +the last remnant of them. And it sounded like a reproach as she said: +"Sorrow has done that. Your serious illness and--and----" she +hesitated: should she begin now about what troubled her so?"--and many +other things," she concluded with a sigh. + +"I can understand that," he said naïvely. "You're so old, too." + +Well, he was honest, she had to confess that; but he said it without +a trace of tender feeling. She could not suppress a slight irritation; +it was not pleasant to be reminded of your age by your child. "I'm not +so old as all that," she said. + +"Oh, I don't mean either that you're _very_ old. But still much +older than Cilia, for example." + +She winced--he always brought in that person. + +"Cilia is a pretty girl, don't you think so, mother?" + +She got so angry that she lost control of herself. "Do you think +so?" she said curtly, rising. "She's leaving on the first of +October." + +"She's leaving? Oh no!" He stared at her incredulously. + +"Yes, yes." She felt she was cruel, but could she be otherwise? His +disbelieving tone expressed such terror. "She's leaving. I'm going to +give her notice." + +"Oh no, you won't." He laughed. "You won't do that." + +"Yes, I will." She emphasised each word; it sounded irrevocable. + +He still shook his head incredulously: it could not be. But then he +suddenly remembered Cilia's depression and her words that evening: "I +suppose she's going to give me notice." "No, you shan't do so." He +started up in bed. + +"I shall not ask you." + +"No, you shan't, you shan't," he cried. All at once Cilia moved +across his mental vision, her ingenuous eyes looked at him so sadly--he +liked her so much--and she was to go? He was seized with fury. + +"She shan't go, she shan't go," he howled, and shouted it louder and +louder: "She shan't go." He was in a mad, indescribable frame of mind. +He threw himself back, stretched himself out and struck the bedstead +with his feet, so that it creaked in all the joints. + +Käte was terrified; she had never seen him so violent before. But +how right she was. His behaviour showed her that plainly. No, she must +not call herself cruel even if his tears flowed; it was necessary that +Cilia went. But she was sorry for him. + +"Wölfchen," she said persuasively, "why, Wölfchen. She tried to +soothe him, and drew up his cover that had fallen down with gentle +hand. But as soon as she touched him he pushed her away. + +"Wölfchen--Wölfchen--you with your Wölfchen! As if I were a baby +still. My name is Wolfgang. And you are unjust--envious--you only want +her to go away because I like her better, much better than you." + +He shouted in her face, and she became deathly white. She felt as +though she must scream with pain. She who had suffered so much for his +sake was of less account than Cilia in his opinion? All at once she +remembered all the burning and ineffaceable tears she had +already shed for his sake. And of all the hard hours during his illness +none had been so hard as this one. + +She forgot that he was still a child, a naughty boy. Had he not said +himself: "I'm not a child any longer"? His behaviour seemed +unpardonable. She left the room without a word. + +He followed her with eyes full of dismay: had he hurt her? All at +once he was conscious that he had done so--oh no, he did not want to do +that. He had already got half out of bed to run after her on his bare +feet, to hold her fast by her dress and say: "Are you angry?"--when he +suddenly remembered Cilia again. No, it was too bad of her to tell her +to go. + +He wept as he crept under the bed-clothes and folded his hands. +Cilia had told him he was to pray to the Holy Virgin, to that smiling +woman in the blue mantle covered with stars, who sits on a throne over +the altar with the crown on her head. She healed everything. And when +she asked God in Heaven for anything, He did it. He would pray to her +now. + +Cilia had once taken him to her church, when his mother was at the +baths and his father in the Tyrol. He had had to promise her not to +tell anybody about it, and the charm of the secrecy had increased the +charm of the church. An unconscious longing drew him to those altars, +where the saints looked so beautiful and where you could see God +incarnate, to whom he had been told to pray as to a father. He had +never liked the church so much which his mother sometimes went to, and +in which he had also been. + +That longing, which had clung to him ever since like a fairy tale, +now came over him forcibly and vividly. Yes, it was beautiful to be +able to kneel like that before the Holy Virgin, who was lovelier than +all women on earth, and hardly had you laid your request +before her when its fulfilment was insured. Splendid! + +"Hail Mary!" Cilia's prayer began like that. He did not know any +more, but he repeated the words many times. And now he smelt the +incense again, which had filled the whole church with perfume, heard +again the little bell announcing the transubstantiation, saw the Lord's +anointed with the splendid stole over his chasuble bow first to the +left of the altar, then to the right. Oh, how he envied the boys in +their white surplices, who were allowed to kneel near him. Blessed +harmonies floated under the high, arched dome: + + "Procedenti ab utroque + Compar sit laudatio----" + +They had sung something like that. And then the priest had raised +the gleaming monstrance on high, and all the people had bowed deeply: +_Qui vivis et regnas in sæcula sæculorum._ Yes, he had remembered +_that_ Latin well. He would never forget it all his life. + +Cilia had had to nudge him and whisper: "Come, we're going now," +otherwise he would have remained kneeling much longer in the +magnificent and still cosy church, in which nothing was cold and +strange. + +If only he could go there again. Cilia had certainly promised to +take him if she found an opportunity--but now she was to go away, and +the opportunity would never come. What a pity. He was filled with a +great regret and defiance at the same time; no, he would not go to the +church his mother went to, and where the boys from his school went. + +And he whispered again, "Hail, Mary!" and the hot and angry tears +that had been running down his cheeks ceased as he whispered it. + +He had climbed out of his bed, and was kneeling by the side of it on +the carpet, his clasped hands raised in prayer, as he had seen +the angels do in the altar-piece. His eyes sparkled and were wide open, +his defiance melted into fervour. + +When he at last got into bed again, and his excessive fatigue had +calmed his agitation and he had fallen asleep, he dreamt of the +beautiful Virgin Mary, whose features were well known to him, and he +felt his heart burn for her. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +It was a fortnight later, the first of October, that Cilla left her +situation. Käte had given her a good character; it was still not clear +to the girl why she had been dismissed, even when she stood in the +street. The lady wanted an older, more experienced maid--that was what +she had said--but Cilia did not quite believe that, she felt vaguely +that there was another reason: she simply did not like her. She would +go home for a short time before taking another situation, she felt +homesick, and it had been difficult for her to leave the place--on +account of the boy. How he had cried, even yesterday evening. He had +hung on her neck and kissed her many times like a little child, that +big boy. And there was so much he still wanted to say to her. They had +been standing together upstairs in the dark passage, and then the +mistress's step as she came up the stairs had driven them away; he was +just able to escape to his room. + +And she had not even been able to say good-bye to him to-day, the +good boy. For he had hardly gone to school when her mistress said: +"There, now you can go." She was quite taken aback, for she had not +reckoned on getting away before the afternoon. But the new housemaid, +an elderly person with a pointed face, had already come, so what was +there for her to do? So all she had done was to wrap up all the +pictures of the saints she kept in her prayer-book quickly in +paper, and stick them into the drawer in the table that stood at the +boy's bedside--he would be sure to find them there--after she had +written "Love from Cilia" on them. Then she had gone away. + +Cilia had sent her basket on by goods train, and she had nothing to +carry now but a little leather bag and a cardboard box tied with +string. So she could get on quickly. But on her way to the station she +stopped all at once: the school would be over at one o'clock, it was +almost eleven now, it really did not matter if she left somewhat later. +How pleased he would be if she said good-bye to him once more and +begged him not to forget her. + +She turned round. She would be sure to find a bench near the school, +and there she would wait for him. + +The passers-by looked curiously at the young girl who had posted +herself near the school like a soldier, stiff and silent. Cilia had not +found a bench; she dared not go far from the entrance for fear of +missing him. So she placed the cardboard box on the ground, and stood +with her little bag on her arm. Now and then she asked somebody what +time it was. The time passed slowly. At last it was almost one. Then +she felt her heart beat: the good boy! In her thoughts she could +already see his dark eyes flash with joy, hear his amazed: "Cillchen! +You?" + +Cilia pushed her hat straight on her beautiful fair hair, and stared +fixedly at the school-door with a more vivid red on her red cheeks: the +bell would soon ring--then he would come rushing out--then--. All at +once she saw the boy's mother. She? Frau Schlieben was approaching the +door with quick steps. Oh dear! + +A few quick bounds brought her behind a bush: did she intend +fetching her Wolfgang herself to-day? Oh, then she would have +to go. And she stole away to the station, full of grief. The joy that +had made her heart beat had all disappeared; but she still had one +consolation: Wolfgang would not forget her. No, never! + +Wolfgang was much surprised to see his mother. Surely he need not be +fetched? She had never done that herself before. He was disagreeably +impressed. Was he a baby? The others would make fun of him. He felt +very indignant, but his mother's kindness disarmed him. + +She was specially tender that day, and very talkative. She inquired +about everything they had been doing at school, she did not even scold +when he confessed he had had ten faults in his Latin composition; on +the contrary, she promised he should make an excursion to Schildhorn +that afternoon. It was such a beautiful, sunny autumn day, almost like +summer. The boy sauntered along beside her, quite content, dangling his +books at the end of the long strap. He had quite forgotten for the +moment that Cilia was to leave that day. + +But when they came home and the strange maid answered the door, he +opened his eyes wide, and when they sat down at table and the new girl +with the pointed face, who did not look at all like a servant, brought +in the dishes, he could not contain himself any longer. + +"Where's Cilia?" he asked. + +"She has gone away--you know it," said his mother in a casual tone +of voice. + +"Away?" He turned pale and then crimson. So she had gone without +saying good-bye to him! All at once he had no appetite, although he had +been so hungry before. Every mouthful choked him; he looked stiffly at +his plate--he dared not look up for fear of crying. + +His parents spoke of this and that--all trivial matters--and a voice +within him cried: "Why has she gone without saying good-bye to me?" It +hurt him very much. He could not understand it--she was so fond of him. +How could she have found it in her heart to go away without letting him +know where he could find her? His Cillchen to leave him like that! Oh, +she could not have done so--not of her own free will, oh no, no. And +just when he was at school. + +He was seized with a sudden suspicion: he had not thought of such a +thing before, but now it was clear to him--oh, he was not so stupid as +all that--she had had to go just because he was at school. His mother +had never liked Cilia, and she had not wanted her to say good-bye to +him. + +The boy cast angry glances at his mother from under his lowered +lashes: that was horrid of her. + +He rose from the table full of suppressed wrath, and dragged his +feet up the stairs to his room. He found the pictures of the saints +that had been stuck into his drawer at once--"With love from +Cilia"--and then he gave way to his fury and his grief. He stamped with +his feet and kissed the gaudy pictures, and his tears made lots of dark +spots on them. Then he rushed downstairs into the dining-room, where +his father was still sitting at the table and his mother packing cakes +and fruit into her small bag. Oh, she had wanted to go for a walk with +him. That would be the very last thing he would do. + +"Where has Cilia gone? Why haven't you let her say good-bye to +me?" + +His mother gazed at him, petrified; how did the boy guess her innermost +thoughts? She could not utter a word. But he did not let her speak +either, his boy's voice, which was still high, cracked and then +became deep and hoarse: "Yes, you--oh, I know it quite well--you did +not want her to say good-bye to me. You've sent her away so that I +should not see her any more--yes, you! That's horrid of you! +That's--that's vile!" He went towards her. + +She shrank back slowly--he raised his hands--was he going to strike +her? + +"You rascal!" His father's hand seized him by the scruff of his +neck. "How dare you? Raise your hand against your mother?" The angry +man shook the boy until his teeth chattered, and did so again and +again. "You--you rascal, you good-for-nothing!" + +"She didn't let her say good-bye to me," the boy screamed as an +answer. "She's sent her away because--because----" + +"You still dare to speak to----" + +"Yes! Why didn't she let Cilia say good-bye to me? She never did +anything to her. I loved her and it was for that, only for that----" + +"Silence!" He gave the boy a violent blow on the mouth. The man no +longer recognised himself; his calmness had abandoned him, the boy's +obstinacy made him lose his temper. How he struggled against the hand +that was holding him, how he stared at him with his bold eyes. How +dared he shout at him like that? "You"--he shook him--"so you are so +insolent? So ungrateful? What would have become of you? You would have +died in misery--yes--it's she who has made something out of you--who +picked you up out of----" + +"Paul!" His wife's scream interrupted the man. Käte seized hold of +his arm as though she were out of her mind: "No, no, leave him. You are +not to--no!" She held her hand in front of his mouth. And when he +pushed her away angrily and seized hold of the boy more firmly, she +tore him away from him and pressed his head against her dress +as if to protect him. She held her hand before his ears. Her face was +deathly white, and, turning her dilated eyes to her husband, she +implored him full of terror: "Not a word! I beseech you, I beseech +you!" + +The man's anger had not yet cooled. Käte must really have lost her +senses. Why did she take the boy away from the punishment he so richly +deserved? He approached the boy once more with a hard: "Well, really, +Käte I'm not going to condone this." + +Then she fled with him to the door and pushed him outside, bolted it +and then placed herself in front of it, as though to bar her husband's +egress. + +Now Wolfgang had gone. They were both alone now, she and her +husband, and with a cry full of reproach: "You had almost betrayed it +to him," she tottered to the sofa. She fell rather than sat down on it, +and broke out in hopeless weeping. + +Paul Schlieben strode up and down the room. He had indeed almost +allowed himself to be carried away by his indignation. But would it +have been a misfortune if he had told the boy about it? Let him know +where he came from, and that he had nothing, really nothing whatever to +do there. That he received everything as a favour. It was absolutely +unnecessary--in fact, more prejudicial than desirable--to keep it a +secret from him. But if she would not allow it on any account! + +He interrupted his walk to and fro, remained standing before his +wife, who was weeping in the corner of the sofa, and looked down at +her. He felt so extremely sorry for her. That was the reward for all +her kindness, her unselfishness, for all her devotion! He laid his hand +softly on her drooping head without saying a word. + +Then she started up suddenly and caught hold of his hand: "And don't +do anything to him, please. Don't hit him. It's my fault--he +guessed it. I did not like her, I gave her notice, and then I sent her +away secretly--only because he loved her, only for that reason. I +feared her. Paul, Paul"--she wrung her hands repentantly--"oh, Paul, I +stand abashed before the child, I stand abashed before myself." + +Wolfgang was sitting huddled up in his room, holding the pictures of +the saints in his hand. Those were now his most costly, his only +possessions; a precious memory. Where could she be now? Still in the +Grunewald? Already in Berlin? Or much further? Oh, how he longed for +her. He missed the friendly face that was always smiling secretly at +him, and his longing for her increased until he could not bear it any +longer. There was no one there who loved him as she did whom he loved +as he had loved her. + +Now that Cilia was gone he forgot that he had often laughed at her +and played tricks on her, and had also quarrelled with her in a boyish +manner. His longing for her grew and grew, and her figure grew as well. +It became so large and so strong, so powerful that it took his eyes +away from everything else that still surrounded him. He threw himself +on the carpet and dug his fingers into it; he had to hold himself in +that manner, otherwise he would have broken everything to bits, +everything, big and small. + +That was his father's step on the stairs. He shook the door-handle. +Let him shake it. Wolfgang had locked himself in. + +"Open at once!" + +Ah, now he was to have a whipping. Wolfgang wiped his tears away +hastily, gnashed his teeth and closed his lips tightly. + +"Well, are you soon going to do it?" The handle was shaken louder +and louder. + +Then he went and opened it. His father stepped in. Not with the +stick the boy expected to see in his hand, but with anger and grief +written on his brow. + +"Come down at once. You have hurt your poor, good--much too +good--mother very much. Come to her and ask her pardon. Show her that +you are sorry; do you hear? Come." + +The boy did not move. He stared past his father into space with an +unutterably unhappy, but at the same time obstinate expression on his +face. + +"You are to come--don't you hear? Your mother is waiting." + +"I'm not coming," Wolfgang muttered; he hardly opened his lips at +all. + +"What?" The man stared at the boy without speaking, quite dismayed +at so much audacity. + +The boy returned his look, straight and bold. His young face was so +pale that his dark eyes appeared still darker, a dense black. + +"Bad eyes," said the man to himself. And suddenly a suspicion took +possession of him, a suspicion that was old and long forgotten, but +still had slumbered in the recesses of his heart in spite of everything +and had now all at once been roused again, and he seized hold of the +boy, gripped hold of his chest so tightly that he made no further +resistance. + +"Boy! Rascal! Have you no heart? She who has done so much for you, +she, she is waiting for you and you, you won't come? On your knees, I +say. Go on in front--ask her pardon. At once." And he seized the boy, +who showed no emotion whatever, by the scruff of his neck instead of by +his chest, and shoved him along in front of him down the stairs and +into the room where Käte was sitting buried in her grief, her eyes red +with weeping. + +"Here's somebody who wants to beg your pardon," said the man, +pushing the boy down in front of her. + +Wolfgang would have liked to cry out: "No, I won't beg her pardon, +and especially not now"--and then all at once he felt so sorry for her. +Oh, she was just as unhappy as he--they did not suit each other, that +was it. This knowledge came to him all at once, and it deepened his +glance and sharpened the features of his young face so much that he +looked old beyond his years. + +He jerked out with a sob: "Beg your pardon." He did not hear himself +how much agony was expressed in his voice, he hardly felt either that +her arms lifted him up, that he lay on her breast for some moments and +she stroked his hair away from his burning brow. It was as if he were +half unconscious; he only felt a great emptiness and a vague +misery. + +As in a dream he heard his father say: "There, that's right. Now go +and work. And be a better boy." And his mother's soft voice: "Yes, he's +sure to be that." He went upstairs as though he were walking in his +sleep. He was to work now--why? What was the object? Everything was so +immaterial to him. It was immaterial whether these people praised or +blamed him--what did it matter to him what they did? On the whole he +did not like being there any longer, he did not want to stay there any +more--no, no! He shook himself as though with loathing. + +Then he stood a long time on one spot, staring into space. And +gradually a large, an immeasurable expanse appeared before his staring +eyes--cornfields and heather in bloom, heather in which the sun sets, +quiet waters near which a lonely bird is calling, and over all the +solemn, beautiful sound of bells. He must go there. He stretched out +his arms longingly, the eyes that were swollen with weeping +flashed. + +If they were to keep him with them, keep hold of him! No, they could +not hold him. He must go there. + +He crept nearer to the window as though drawn there. It was high up, +too high for a jump, but he would get down nevertheless. He could not +go down the stairs of course, they would hear him--but like this, ah, +like this. + +Kneeling on the window-sill he groped about with his feet to find +the water-pipe that ran down the whole side of the house close to the +window. Ah, he felt it. Then he slid down from the sill, only hanging +on to it by the tips of his fingers, dangled in the air for a few +moments, then got the water-pipe between his knees, let go of the +window-sill altogether, grasped hold of the pipe and slid down it +quickly and noiselessly. + +He looked round timidly: nobody had seen him. There was nobody in +the street, and there were only a few people walking in the distance. +He bent his head and crept past the windows on the ground-floor--now he +was in the garden behind the bushes--now over the hedge his trousers +slit, that did not matter--now he looked back at the house with a +feeling of wild triumph. He stood in the waste field, in which +no houses had been built as yet, stood there hidden behind an +elderberry-bush, of which he had planted the first shoot years before +as a child. He did not feel the slightest regret. He rushed away into +the sheltering wood like a wild animal that hears shots. + +He ran and ran, ran even when it was not necessary to run any more. +He did not stop until complete exhaustion forced him to do so. He had +run straight across the wood without following any path; now he no +longer knew where he was. But he was far away, so much was certain. He +had not got so far into the wood on his robber expeditions with his +play-fellows, and, in his walks, had never gone into the parts +where there were no paths whatever and where it was quite lonely. He +could rest a little now in peace. + +He threw himself on the ground, where the sand showed nothing but +fine grass and some bracken in small hollows. Trees in which there was +not the slightest motion towered above him all around, like slender +pillars that seemed to support the heavens. + +He lay there for some time on his back, and let his blood, which was +coursing through his veins like mad, cool down. He thought he could +hear his heart throb quite distinctly, although he could not account +for it--oh, it was pounding and stabbing so unpleasantly in his breast; +he had never felt it do like that before. But he had never run like +that before, at any rate since his illness. He had to fight for air, he +thought he was going to choke. But at last he was able to breathe again +more comfortably; now he had not to distend his nostrils and pant for +breath any more. He could enjoy the feeling of ease and comfort that +gradually came over him now. + +It was not yet dusk when he set out again, but still the light began +to show that it was October. There was a sweet softness, something +extremely gentle and glorified about the sunshine that fell through the +red branches of the pines, which also softened the wild runaway. He +went in a dream--whither? He did not know, he did not think of it +either, he only walked on and on, in pursuit of a longing that drew him +on irresistibly, that fluttered in front of him and cooed and called +like a dove seeking her nest. And the dove's wings were stronger than +the wings of an eagle. + +There were no people where the longing flew. It was so peaceful and +quiet there. Not even his foot made any noise as it sank into the moss +and short grass. The pines stood in the glow of the setting +sun like slender lighted candles. No autumn leaves lay on the ground in +which the wind might have rustled; the air swept noiselessly over the +smooth pine-needles and the colourless cones that had dropped down from +the tree-tops. + +Wolfgang had never known it was so beautiful there. He looked round +with amazed delight. It had never seemed so beautiful before. But it +was not like this, of course, where the villas were and the roads. His +eyes glanced curiously now to the right, now to the left and then in +front of him into the twilight of the wood. There, where the last gold +of the setting sun did not cling to the cleft bark like red blood and +the light did not penetrate, there was a soft mysterious dusk, in which +the mossy dark-green stems gleamed nevertheless. And there was a +perfume there, so moist and cool, so pungent and fresh, that the boy +drew a deep breath as though a weight had been lifted from his chest +and a new strength ran through his veins. + +The memory of all he had gone through during the day came back to +Wolfgang now in the deep calm. He pressed his hands to his hot +forehead--ah, now he noticed he had not even a cap on. But what did +that matter? He was free, free! He hurried on, shouting with glee, and +then he got terrified at the sound of his own loud voice: hush, be +quiet! Let him only not be shut up again, let him be free, free! + +He did not feel any more longing now. He was filled with a great +repose, with a boundless happiness. His eyes sparkled--he opened them +wide--he could not stare enough at the world, it was as though he saw +it for the first time to-day. He ran up to the trunks that seemed to be +supporting the heavens, and threw both arms round them; he pressed his +face against the resinous bark. Was it not soft? Did it not +cling to his glowing cheek like a caressing hand? + +He threw himself down on the moss and stretched his limbs and tossed +from side to side in high glee, and then jumped up again--he did not +like being there, after all--he must look about, enjoy his liberty. + +A single red stripe over the wood that was turning blue still showed +where the sun had been, when he became conscious of his actual +whereabouts for the first time. Here the former high-road from Spandau +to Potsdam had been; ruddy brown and yellow chestnuts formed an avenue +through the desolate country. The sand lay a foot deep in the ruts that +were seldom used now. Ah, from here you came to Potsdam or Spandau, +according to the road you took--alas, could you not already hear cocks +crowing and a noise as of wheels turning slowly? + +Deciding quickly, the boy turned off from the old high-road to the +left, crept through a bent barbed wire fence, that was to protect a +clearing which had lately been replanted, bounded like a stag over the +small plants that were hardly a hand's-breadth high, and looked out for +a cover. + +He did not require any, nobody came there. He walked more slowly +between the small trees; he took care not to tread on them, stooped +down and examined them, measured them out by steps as a farmer does his +furrows. + +And all at once it was evening. A mist had crept over the earth, +light and hardly visible at first, then it had risen and increased in +size, had slipped across the piece of clearing on the night wind that +was coming up, and had hung on to each gnarl like the beckoning veils +of spectres. + +But Wolfgang was not afraid; he did not feel any terror. +What could happen to him there, where the distant whistle of a train +was only heard at intervals, and where the wind carried the smoke it +had torn away from the locomotive like a light cloud that rapidly +vanishes? + +Just as if you were on the prairie, on the steppes, the boy thought +to himself, where there are no longer any huts and only the camp fires +send their little bit of smoke up as a token. A certain love of +adventure was mingled with the bliss of being free. He had always +wished to camp out. Of course he would not be able to light a fire and +cook by it; he had nothing to do it with. But he did not feel hungry. +There was only one thing he needed now, to sleep long and soundly. + +He lay down without hesitating. The ground was already cool, but his +clothes were thick and prevented the cold from penetrating. He made a +sort of pillow for his head, and lay with his face turned towards the +evening sky. Pale stars gradually appeared on it, and smiled down at +him. + +He had thought he would fall asleep at once, he felt tired out, but +he lay a long time with open eyes. An inexplicable sensation kept him +awake: this was too beautiful, too beautiful, it was like a splendid +dream. Golden eyes protected him, a velvety mantle enveloped him, a +mother rocked him gently. + +Longing, defiance, pain, fury, everything that hurt had disappeared. +Only happiness remained in this infinite peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Frida Lãmke had now been confirmed. She wore a dress that almost +touched the ground, and when she saw Wolfgang Schlieben for the first +time after a long interval, her greeting was no longer the familiar +nod of childhood. But she stopped when she came up to her former +play-fellow. + +"Hallo, Wolfgang," she said, laughing, and at the same time a little +condescendingly--she felt so infinitely superior to him--"well, how are +you getting along?" + +"All right." He put on a bold air which did not exactly suit the +look in his eyes. + +She examined him; what a fine fellow Wolfgang had grown. But he held +himself so badly, he bent forward so. "Hold yourself up, for goodness' +sake," she exhorted, and she straightened her own rush-like figure. +"Why do you make such a round back? And you blink your eyes as if you +were short-sighted. Hm, you should be with my employer--oh my, she +would make you sit up." She chuckled to herself, her whole slender +figure shook with a secret inclination to laugh. + +"You're so happy," he said slowly. + +"Well, why shouldn't I be? Do you think such an old dragon can spoil +my good humour? Come, that would be stupid. When she scolds I lower my +head, I don't say a word, but I laugh to myself. Ha ha!" Her clear +voice sounded very gay. + +How pretty she was. The boy's dark eyes were fixed on Frida Lämke as +though he had never seen her before. The sun was shining on her fair +hair, which she no longer wore in a long plait, but in a thick knot at +the back of her head. Her face was so round, so blooming. + +"You never come to see me now," he said. + +"How can I?" She shrugged her shoulders and assumed an air of +importance. "What do you think I have to do? Into town with the car +before eight in the morning, and then only two hours for my dinner +always in and out and in the evening I'm hardly ever at home before +ten, often still later. Then I'm so tired, I sleep as sound as a top. +But on Sundays mother lets me sleep as long as I like, and in the +afternoon I go out with Artur and Flebbe. We----" + +"Where do you go?" he asked hastily. "I could go with you some +time." + +"Oh, you!" She laughed at him. "You mayn't, you know." + +"No." He bowed his head. + +"Come, don't look so glum," she said encouragingly, stroking his +chin with her fore-finger, and disclosing a hole in her shabby kid +glove. "You go to college, you see. Artur is to be apprenticed too, +next autumn. Mother thinks to a hairdresser. And Flebbe is already +learning to be a grocer--his father can afford to do that--who knows? +perhaps he may have a shop of his own in time." + +"Yes," said Wolfgang in a monotonous voice, breaking into her +chatter. He stood in the street as though lost in thought, his books +pressed under his arm. Oh, how far, far this girl, all three of them, +had gone from him all at once. Those three, with whom he had once +played every day, whose captain he had always been, were already so +big, and he, he was still a silly school-boy. + +"Oh, hang it all!" He hurled his pile of books away from him with a +violent gesture, so that the strap that held them together came undone. +All the books and exercise-books flew apart, and lay spread out in the +dust of the street. + +"Oh dear, Wölfchen!" Frida stooped down, quite terrified, and +gathered them all up. + +He did not help her to collect them. He stared in front of him with +an angry look. + +"There--now you've got them again," said the girl, who had grown +quite red with stooping so busily. She blew off the dust and pressed +them under his arm again. + +"I don't want them." He let them fall again. + +"Hm, you're a nice fellow. What can you be thinking of?--those +expensive books." She felt really quite angry with him. "Don't you know +that they cost money?" + +"Pooh!" He made a gesture as if to say, what did that matter? "Then +some new ones will be bought." + +"Even if your father has sufficient money," she said, firing up, +"it's still not right of you to treat these good books like that." + +He did not say a word to that, but took them up and fastened the +strap round them again. They stood together, both feeling embarrassed. +She glanced sideways at him: how he had changed. And he felt vexed that +he had got into a passion: what would she think of him now? + +"I shall have to go now," she said all at once, "or I shan't even +get my dinner eaten ugh, how hungry I am!" She put her hand on her +stomach. "How good it'll taste! Mother has potatoes in their jackets +and herrings to-day." + +"I shall go too." Suiting his step to hers he trotted beside her as +she tripped hastily along. + +She got quite red: what would her mother say if she brought +Wolfgang with her? No, that would really not do, this was just the day +when their room had not been tidied. And she had told a fib too: there +were no herrings, only onion sauce with the potatoes in their +jackets. + +She felt ashamed that Wolfgang should find it out. + +"No, you go home," she said, intrenching herself behind a pout. "As +you've not been to see us for so long, you needn't come to-day either. +I'm angry with you." + +"Angry with me--me? What have I done? I wasn't allowed to come to +you, I mightn't--that's not my fault, surely. Frida!" + +She commenced to run, her face quite scarlet; he ran beside her. +"Frida! Frida, surely you can't be angry with _me_? Oh, Frida, don't be +angry. Frida, let me go with you. At last I've met you, and then you +behave like this?" + +There was sorrow in his voice. She felt it, but she was angry all +the same: why should he cling to her like that? Flebbe would not like +it at all. And so she said in a pert voice: "We don't suit each other +and never shall. You go with your young ladies. You belong to +them." + +"Say that once more--dare to do it!" He shouted in a rough voice, +and raised his hand as though he would strike her. "Affected creatures, +what are they to me?" + +He was right--she had to confess it in her heart--he had never taken +any notice of the young girls who lived in the villas around him. She +knew very well that he preferred them to them all, and her vanity felt +flattered; she said soothingly, but at the same time evasively: "No, +Wölfchen, you can't go with me any more, it's not proper any more." And +she held out her hand: "Good-bye, Wolfgang." + +They were among the bushes in a small public garden in which there +were benches, the villas lying at a good distance from it, +quite hidden behind their front gardens. There was nobody in sight in +the quiet radiance of the noonday sun. But even if somebody had come, +it would not have made any difference; he seized hold of her with both +hands in a kind of rage. "I am going with you--I shall not let you +go." + +She resisted forcibly: what was the stupid boy thinking of? "Let me +go," she said, spitting at him like a little cat, "will you let me go +at once? You hurt me. Just you wait, I'll tell Flebbe about it, he'll +be after you. Leave me in peace." + +He did not let her go. He held her clasped in his arms without +saying a word, his books were again lying in the dust. + +Did he want to kiss or strike her? She did not know; but she was +afraid of him and defended herself as best she could. "You runaway!" +she hissed, "hm, you're a nice one. Runs away from home, hides himself +in the wood. But they got you all the same--and it served you +right." + +All at once he let her go; she stood in front of him mocking him. +She could easily have run away now, but she preferred to stand there +and scold him: "You runaway!" + +He got very red and hung his head. + +"How could you think of doing such a thing?" she continued with a +certain cruelty. "So silly. Everybody laughed at you. We positively +could not believe it at first. Well I never, said I, the boy runs away +without money, without a cap, without a piece of bread in his pocket. +You wanted to go to America like that, I suppose, eh?" She eyed him +from top to toe and then threw her head back and laughed loudly: "To +think of doing such a thing." + +He did not raise his head, only murmured half to himself: "You +shouldn't laugh at it, no, you shouldn't." + +"Come, what next? Cry, perhaps? What does it matter to me? Your +mother cried enough about it, and your father ran about as if he were +crazy. All the rangers in the district were on their legs. Tell me, +didn't you get a good thrashing when they dragged you home by the +collar?" + +"No." He suddenly raised his head and looked straight into the eyes +that were sparkling a little maliciously. + +There was something in his glance--a mute reproach--that compelled +her to lower her lids. + +"They didn't beat me--I wouldn't have stood it either--no, they +didn't beat me." + +"Shut you up?" she asked curiously. + +He did not answer; what was he to say? No, they had not shut him up, +he might go about as he liked in the house and garden, in the street, +to school--and still, still he was not free. + +Tears suddenly started to his eyes. "You--you shouldn't--shouldn't +taunt me--Frida," he cried, stammering and faltering. "I'm so--so----" + +He wanted to say "unhappy"; but the word seemed to mean too little +and in another way too much. And he felt ashamed of saying it aloud. So +he stood silent, colouring up to the eyes. And only his tears, which he +could not restrain any longer, rolled down his cheeks and fell into the +dust of the street. + +They were tears of sorrow and of rage. It was already more than six +months ago--oh, even longer--but it still enraged him as though it had +happened the day before. He had never forgotten for a moment that they +had caught him so easily. They had found him so soon, at daybreak, ere +the sun had risen on a new day. And they had carried him home in +triumph. What he had looked upon as a great deed, an heroic +deed, was a stupid boy's trick to them. His mother had certainly cried +a good deal, but his father had only pulled his ear: "Once, but not +more, my son. Remember that." + +Wolfgang was crying quietly but bitterly. Frida stood in front of +him, watching him cry, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears as +well--she had always been his good friend. Now she cried with him. + +"Don't cry, Wölfchen," she sobbed. "It isn't so bad. People don't +remember anything more about it--such things are forgotten. You +certainly need not feel ashamed of it--why should you? There's no harm +in your having frightened your people a little for once in a way. +Simply say to them: 'Then I'll run away again,' if they won't let you +come to us. Come next Sunday afternoon. Then I won't go with Artur and +Flebbe--no, I'll wait for you." + +She wiped her own tears away with the one hand and his with the +other. + +They stood thus in the bright sunshine amidst the flowering bushes. +The lilac spread its fragrance around; a red may and a laburnum strewed +their beautifully coloured petals over them, shaken by the soft wind of +May. The dark and the light head were close to each other. + +"Frida," he said, seizing hold of her hand firmly, as though +clinging to it, "Frida, are _you_ still fond of me, at any rate?" + +"Of course." She nodded, and her clear merry laugh was heard once +more, although there were still traces of tears on her face. "That +would be a nice sort of friendship, if it disappeared so quickly. +There!" She pursed up her mouth and gave him a kiss. + +He looked very embarrassed; she had never given him a kiss +before. + +"There!" She gave him another one. "And now be happy again, my boy. +It's such beautiful weather." + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +"You're late to-day," said his mother, when Wolfgang came home from +school at two instead of at one o'clock. "You've not been kept, I +hope?" + +A feeling of indignation rose in him: how she supervised him. The +good temper in which his friend Frida had put him had disappeared; the +chains galled him again. But he still thought a good deal of Frida. +When he was doing his lessons in the afternoon, her head with its thick +knot of hair would constantly appear behind his desk, and bend over his +book and interrupt him; but it was a pleasant interruption. What a pity +that Frida had so little time now. How nice it had been when they were +children. He had always been most fond of her; he had been able to play +better with her than with the two boys, she had always understood him +and stuck to him--alas! + +He felt as though he must envy, from the bottom of his heart, the +boy who had been the captain when they played at robbers in those days +and roasted potatoes in the ashes, nay, even the boy who had once been +so ill that they had to wheel him in a bath-chair the first time he +went out into the open air. The boy who sat at the desk now, staring +absently into space over the top of his exercise-book, was no longer +the same. He was no longer a child. All at once it seemed to Wolfgang +as though a golden time had gone for ever and lay far behind him, as +though there were no pleasures in store for him. Had not the clergyman +who was preparing him for confirmation also said: "You are no longer +children"? And had he not gone on to say: "You will soon have your +share of life's gravity"? Alas, he already had it. + +Wolfgang sat with knit brows, the chewed end of his penholder +between his teeth, disinclined to work. He was brooding. All manner of +thoughts occurred to him that he had never had before; all at +once words came into his mind that he had never thought of seriously +before. Why did the boys in his form constantly ask him such strange +questions? They asked about his parents--well, was there anything +peculiar about them?--and then they exchanged glances among themselves +and looked at him so curiously. What was so funny about him? Lehmann +was the most curious--and so cheeky. Quite lately he had blinked at him +sideways so slyly, and puffed up his cheeks as though they must burst +with laughter when he made the specially witty remark: "I'll be hanged +if I can see any likeness between you and your governor!" Was he really +not like his father or his mother? Not like either of them? + +When Wolfgang undressed that evening, he stood a long time in front +of the looking-glass that hung over his washstand, with a light in his +hand, holding it first to the right, then to the left, then higher, +then lower. A bright light fell on his face. The glass was good, and +reflected every feature faithfully on its clear surface--but there was +no resemblance whatever between his big nose and his mother's fine one. +His father's nose was also quite different. And neither of his parents +had such a broad forehead with hair growing far down on it, and such +brows that almost met. His father had certainly dark eyes, but they did +not resemble those he saw in the glass, that were so black that even +the light from the candle, which he held quite close, could not make +them any lighter. + +At last the boy turned away with a look full of doubt. And still +there was something that resembled a slight feeling of relief in the +sigh he now uttered. If he were so little like them externally, need he +wonder then that his thoughts and feelings were often so quite, quite +different from theirs? + +It was strange how the boys at school were an exact copy of their +parents; and how the big boys were still tied to their mothers' +apron-strings. There was Kullrich, for example; he had been away for a +fortnight because his mother had died, and when he came to school again +for the first time--with a black band round his coat-sleeve--the whole +form went almost crazy. They treated him as though he were a raw egg, +and spoke quite low, and nobody made a joke. And when the passage, +_When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me +up_, happened to occur in the Bible-lessons, in which Kullrich also +took part, they all looked at him as though at the word of command, and +Kullrich laid his head down on his Bible, and did not raise it again +during the whole lesson. Afterwards the master went up to him and spoke +a long time to him, and laid his hand on his head. + +That was already a long time ago, but Kullrich was still not happy. +When they all walked in the playground during the interval, eating +their bread and butter, he stood at some distance and did not eat. Was +it really so hard to lose one's mother? + +There was a wonderful moon shining over the silent pines that night; +the boy lay half out of the window for a long, long time. His eyes were +burning: his thoughts buzzed in his head like a swarm of gnats that +whirl round and round and up and down in the air like a cloud. Where +did they come from all at once? + +He exposed his hot forehead, his chest, from which his nightshirt +had slipped, to the cool night air in May--ah, that did him good. That +was the best, the only thing that soothed, that gave peace. Oh, how +delightful the air was, so pure, so fresh. + +Where could Cilia be now? he wondered. He had never heard anything +more about her, She was where he would like to have been--oh, +how he would have liked it. Something that resembled the sound of bells +came floating along, and he stretched out his arms and bent further and +further out of the window. + +Wolfgang had such a vivid dream about Cilia that night that when he +awoke he thought she was standing at his bedside, that she had not left +him yet. But after he had rubbed his eyes, he saw that the spot on +which she had just been standing smiling so pleasantly was empty. + +After school was over he had to go to the Bible-lesson; he was to be +confirmed the following Easter. True, he was still young, but Paul +Schlieben had said to his wife: "He is so developed physically. We +can't have him confirmed when he is outwardly, at any rate, a grown-up +man. Besides, his age is just right. It is much better for him if he +does not begin to reflect first." + +Did he not reflect already? It often seemed to Käte as if the boy +evaded her questions, when she asked him about the Bible-lesson. Did +his teacher not understand how to make an impression on him? Dr. +Baumann was looked upon as an excellent theologian, everybody rushed to +hear his sermons; to be allowed to join his confirmation classes, that +were always so crowded, was a special favour; all his pupils raved +about him, people who had been confirmed by him ten, fifteen years +before, still spoke of it as an event in their lives. + +Käte made a point of going to hear this popular clergyman's sermons +very often. Formerly she had only gone to church at Christmas and on +Good Friday, now she went almost every Sunday to please her boy, for he +had to go now. They left the house together every Sunday, drove to +church together, sat next to each other; but whilst she thought: "How +clever, how thought-out, what fervour, surely he must carry a youthful +mind away with him"? Wolfgang thought: "If only it were over!" +He felt bored. And his soul had never soared there as when the little +bell rang when the monstrance had been raised, when he had smelt the +odour of incense before dim altars. + +There was something in him that drove him to the church he had once +visited with Cilia. When he went to the Bible-class he had to pass +close by it; but even if the road had been longer, he would still have +made it possible to go there. Only to stand a few minutes, a few +seconds in a corner, only to draw his breath once or twice in that +sweet, mysterious, soothing air laden with incense. He always found the +church door open; and then when he stepped out again into the noise of +Berlin, he went through the streets with their hurry and their rush +like one come from another world. After that he did not take any +notice of what he was told about the doctrines and the history of the +Church--what were Martin Luther, Calvin and other reformers to him? His +soul had been caught, his thoughts submerged in a feeling of gloomy +faith. + +Thus the summer and winter passed. When the days grew longer, and +the mild warmth of the sun promised to dry up all the moisture winter +had left behind ere long, Paul Schlieben had his villa cleaned and +painted. It was to put on a festive garment for their son's great day, +too. + +The white house looked extremely pretty with its red roofs and green +shutters, as it peeped out from behind the pines; there would almost +have been something rustic about it, had it not been for the large +plate-glass windows and the conservatory, with its palms and flowering +azaleas, that had lately been built on. Friedrich was sowing fresh +grass in the garden, and an assistant was tidying up the flower-beds; +they were digging and hoeing everywhere. The sparrows were +chirping noisily, bold and happy; but strips of paper tied to long +pieces of string and stretched across the lawns that had just been sown +fluttered in the purifying wind and frightened the impudent birds away +from the welcome food. All the gardens were waking up. The stems of the +roses had not yet been released from their coverings, in which they +looked like a chrysalis made of straw, but the young shoots had +appeared on the fruit-trees, and the spurge-laurel made a fine show +with its peach-coloured blossoms. Perambulators painted white and +sky-blue were being driven up and down the street, the baby inside was +already peeping out from behind the curtains, and little feet tripped +along by the side. Nurses and children came out of all the doors, the +boys with hoops, the girls with their balls in a knitted net. Giggling +young girls went off to tennis, and big boys from the third form made +love to them. + +Brightness and gaiety everywhere. There was a glad excited rustling +in the tops of the pines, and the sap rose and fell in the willows +along the shores of the lake. A flight of starlings passed over the +Grunewald colony, and each bird looked down and chose in which box on +the tall pine stems it would prefer to nest. + +The new suit of clothes--black trousers and coat--Wolfgang was to +wear at his confirmation lay spread out on his bed upstairs. Now he was +to try it on. + +Käte was filled with a strange emotion, and her pulse quickened as +she helped him to put on his new suit. So far he had always been +dressed like a boy, in knickers and a sailor blouse, now he was to be +dressed like a man all at once. The festive black suit of fine cloth +did not suit him; for the first time one noticed that he was thick-set. +He stood there stiffly, he felt cramped in the trousers, the coat was +uncomfortable, too: he looked miserable. + +"Look at yourself, just look at yourself," said Käte, pushing him in +front of the glass. + +He looked into it. But he did not see the clothes, he only saw his +mother's face as she looked into the glass at the same time as he, and +he saw they had not a single feature in common. + +"We're not a bit alike," he murmured. + +"Hm? What did you say?" She had not understood him. + +He did not answer. + +"Don't you like the suit?" + +"It's awful!" And then he stared at himself absently. What had they +been saying again that morning? They had been jeering at him, Lehmann +and von Kesselborn, who were to be confirmed with him. Was it because +their fathers were not so rich as his? Kesselborn's father was a +retired officer, who now filled the post of registrar, but Kesselborn +was terribly proud of his "von"; and Lehmann was his bosom friend. +However, he had told them that he had already had a silver watch since +he was eight years old, and that he was to have a real gold one for his +confirmation, which he would then wear every day--that had vexed them +awfully. + +It was before the lesson had commenced--they were all three +waiting--and Kesselborn had suddenly said: "Schlieben gives himself +airs," and had then turned to him and said: "You needn't be so +stuck-up." And then Lehmann had added, also quite loudly so that +everybody must have heard it: "Don't put on so much side, we know all + about it." + +"What do you know?" He had wanted to jump on Lehmann like a tiger, +but the clergyman had just then come in and they began prayers. And +when the lesson, of which he had hardly heard anything--he heard the +other words all the time--was over, he had wanted to tackle +Kesselborn and Lehmann, but they had been sitting near the door, and +had already gone before he could get out of his bench. He did not see +them again. But he noticed glances in which there was a certain +curiosity and spitefulness--or did he only imagine it? He was not quite +sure about it, and he had not thought any more about it either. But now +when he saw his mother's face so close to his in the glass, he suddenly +remembered it all again. And it all came back to him, plumped like a +stone into his thoughts. + +"I'm not at all like you," he said once more. And then he watched +her face: "Not like father either." + +"Oh yes," she said hastily, "you are very much like your +father." + +"Not the slightest bit." + +Her face had flamed, and then he noticed that she suddenly turned +pale. Then she laughed, but there was something forced in her laugh. +"There are many children who hardly resemble their parents at all--that +has nothing to do with the matter." + +"No, but----" All at once he stopped and frowned, as he always did +when he exerted himself to think. And he shot such sharp, such +suspicious, such scrutinising glances at the glass under his knit brows +that Käte involuntarily moved aside, so that her head could not be seen +near his in the glass any more. + +She was seized with a sudden fear: what did he mean? Had he spoken +like that intentionally, or had he said it quite unconsciously? What +had they said to him? What did he know? + +Her hands that had found something to do to his clothes--she was on +her knees pulling down his trousers--were full of nervous haste, and +were pulling here, pulling there, and trembling. + +He was not looking into the glass now, he was gazing at the kneeling +woman with an indefinable look. As a rule, his face had not much +expression and was neither handsome nor ugly, neither fine nor +insignificant--it was still a smooth, immature boy's face without a +line on it--but now there was something in it, something doubting, +restless, which made it appear older, which drew furrows on his +forehead and lines round his mouth. Thoughts seemed to be whirling +round behind that lowered brow; the broad nostrils quivered slightly, +the trembling lips were pressed tightly together. + +A deep silence reigned in the room. The mother did not utter a word, +nor did the son. The birds were twittering outside, even the faintest +chirp could be heard as well as the soft rustling of the spring wind in +the tops of the pines. + +Käte rose slowly from her knees. She found difficulty in getting up, +all her limbs felt as if they were paralysed. She stretched out her +hand gropingly, caught hold of the nearest piece of furniture and +helped herself up. + +"You can take it off again now," she said in a low voice. + +He was already doing so, visibly glad at being able to throw off the +clothes he was so unused to. + +She would have liked so much to say something to him, something +quite unimportant--only to speak, speak--but she felt so strangely +timid. It was as though he might say to her: "What have I to do with +you, woman?" And her fear kept her silent. + +He had taken off his new suit now, and was standing before her +showing his broad chest, which the unbuttoned shirt had left exposed, +his strong legs, from which the stockings had slipped down, and all his +big-boned, only half-clothed robustness. She averted her glance--what a +big fellow he was already!--but then she looked at him again +almost immediately: why should a mother feel shy at looking at her +child? A mother? + +Her eyes flickered. As she walked to the door she said, without +turning her head to him again: "I'm going down now. You'll be able to +finish without me, no doubt." + +He mumbled something she could not understand. And then he stood a +long time, half dressed as he was, and stared into the glass, as though +the pupils of his eyes could not move. + +The day of his confirmation drew near; it was to take place on Palm +Sunday. Dr. Baumann had laid the importance of the step they were about +to take very clearly before the boys' eyes. Now a certain feeling of +solemnity took the place of Wolfgang's former indifference. He was more +attentive during the last lessons; the empty bare room with the few +pictures on the plain walls did not seem so bare to him any longer. Was +it only because he had grown accustomed to it? A softer light fell +through the dreary windows and glided over the monotonous rows of +benches, beautifying them. + +Even Lehmann and Kesselborn were not quite so unsympathetic lately. +All his thoughts grew gentler, more forgiving. The boy's hard heart +became soft. When the clergyman spoke of the Commandments and specially +emphasised the one, "Honour thy father and thy mother," it seemed to +Wolfgang there was much for which he must ask forgiveness; especially +his mother's forgiveness. + +But then when he came home and wanted to say something loving to +her--something quite unprepared, quite spontaneous--he could not do it, +for she had not perceived his intention. + +Käte often went to the station to meet him--oh, how tired the poor +boy must be when he came home. It was really too great a rush for him +to have to go to town for his Bible-lessons so often, and +there was always twice as much work at school before the end of the +term. She would have liked to have caressed him, to have fondled him as +she formerly did little Wölfchen. But when she saw him come sauntering +along, never looking out for her, never imagining that she was there +waiting for him, she would turn quickly down the first street or remain +standing quietly behind a tree and let him pass by. He did not notice +her at all. + +The popular clergyman had to prepare a great many boys for +confirmation, too many; he could not interest himself in each +individual one of them; nevertheless he thought he could assure +Wolfgang's mother, who came to see him full of a certain anxiety in +order to ask him how her son was getting on, that he was satisfied with +him. + +"I know, I know, Frau Schlieben. Your husband considered it his duty +to explain it to me--I have also seen the boy's Catholic certificate of +baptism. But I think I can assure you with a clear conscience that the +lad is a sincere, evangelical Christian. What, you still have some +doubts about it?" Her doubtful mien, the questioning anxiety in her +eyes astonished him. + +She nodded: yes, she had a doubt. Odd that she should have got it +quite lately. But a stranger, anybody else would not understand it, not +even this man with the clever eyes and the gentle smile. And she could +hardly have expressed her doubt in words. And she would have had to +tell her tale quite from the beginning, from the time when she took the +child away from its mother, took it into her own hands, the whole +child, body and soul. + +So she only said: "So you believe--you really believe--oh, how happy +I am, Dr. Baumann, that you believe we have done right." She looked at +him expectantly--oh, how she yearned for him to confirm it and he bowed +his head: + +"So far as our knowledge and understanding go--yes." + +Wolfgang did not sleep the night before Palm Sunday. He had been +told at the last lesson that day that he was to prepare his thoughts. +And he felt, too, that the next day was an important day, a fresh +chapter in his life. He did his best to think of everything a boy +preparing for his confirmation ought to think of. He was very tired and +could not help yawning, but he forced his eyes open every time. +However, he could not help his thoughts wandering again and again; his +head was no longer clear. + +What text would he get next day in remembrance of his confirmation? +he wondered. They had often talked about it at school, each one had his +favourite text which he hoped to get. And would he get the gold watch +early in the morning before going to church? Of course. Oh, how angry +Kesselborn and Lehmann would be then--those wretches! He would hold it +up before their eyes: there, look! They should be green with envy--why +should they always be whispering about him, meddling with things that +did not concern them at all? Pooh, they could not make him trouble +about it all the same, not even make him angry. + +And still all at once he saw his own face so plainly before his +mind's eye and his mother's near it, as he had seen them in the glass. +There was not a single feature alike--no, not one. + +It was really odd that mother and son resembled each other so +little. Now he was wide awake, and commenced to ponder, his brows knit, +his hands clenched. What did they really mean by their offensive +remarks? If only he knew it. He would be quite satisfied then, quite +easy. But he could not think of anything else as things were now, with +everything so obscure. All his thoughts turned round and round the same +point. It was a horrible feeling that tormented him now, a +great uncertainty in which he groped about in the dark. Light, light, +he must have light. Ah, he would see that he got some. + +He tossed about restlessly, quite tortured by his thoughts, and +considered and pondered how he was to find it out, where he was to find +it out. Who would tell him for certain whether he was his parents' +child or not? Why should he not be their child? Yes, he was their +child--no, he was not. But why not? If he was not their real child, +would he be very sorry? No, no!--but still, it terrified him. + +The perspiration stood out on the excited boy's body, and still he +felt icy-cold. He drew the cover up and shook as though with fever. His +heart behaved strangely too, it fluttered in his breast as though with +restless wings. Oh, if only he could sleep and forget everything. Then +there would be no thought of it next day, and everything would be as it +had always been. + +He pressed his eyes together tightly, but the sleep he had driven +away did not come again. He heard the clocks strike, the old clock +resounded hi the dining-room downstairs, and the bronze one called from +his mother's room with its silvery voice. The silence of the night +exaggerated every sound; he had never heard the clocks strike so loudly +before. + +Was the morning never coming? Was it not light yet? He longed for +the day to come, and still he dreaded it. All at once he was seized +with an inexplicable terror--why, what was it he feared so much? + +If only he were already at church--no, if only it were all over. He +was filled with reluctance, a sudden disinclination. The same thought +continued to rush madly through his brain, and his heart rushed with +it; it was impossible to collect his thoughts. He sighed as he +tossed and turned on his bed; he felt so extremely lonely, terrified, +nay, persecuted. + +_If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I make my bed in +hell, behold, Thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and +dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea_--alas, he could not escape +from that thought, it was everywhere and always, always there. + +As the morning sun stole through the shutters that were still closed +on Palm Sunday, forcing its way into the room in delicate, golden rays, +Käte came into her son's room. She was pale, for she had been +struggling with herself the whole night: should she tell him something, +now that he was to enter upon this new chapter of his life or should +she tell him nothing? Something within her whispered: "The day has +come, tell him it, you owe it to him"--but when the morning sun +appeared she bade the voice of the night be silent. Why tell him it? +What did it matter to him? What he did not know could not grieve him; +but if he knew it, then--perhaps he would then--oh, God, she must keep +silent, she could not lose him! + +But she longed to let him feel her love. When she came in with soft +steps she was amazed, for he was standing already quite dressed in the +new black coat and trousers at the window, gazing fixedly at the field +in which they were beginning to build a villa now. The ground floor was +already finished, there was a high scaffolding round it; it was going +to be an enormous building. + +"Good morning, my dear son," she said. + +He did not hear her. + +"Wolfgang!" + +Then he turned round quickly and looked at her, terrified and as +though he did not know her. + +"Oh, you're already dressed." Her voice seemed to express +disappointment; she would have been so pleased to have helped +him just on that day. There was a strange feeling in her heart; she had +never thought the day would have affected her so. Was it not a day like +other days, a festival, of course, but one of many? And now it seemed +as though the day were unique, and as though there would never be +another like it again. + +She went up to Wolfgang, laid her arms round his neck and looked +deep into his eyes: "My child!" And then she smiled at him. "I wish you +joy." + +"Why?" He looked past her with such a strange expression that all +the heartfelt things she had wanted to say to him remained unsaid. He +was still quite a child although he was almost taller than she, much +too much of a child, he did not understand the importance of the day as +yet. So all she did was to improve on his appearance a little, to take +away a thread from his clothes here, to blow away some dust there and +pull his tie straight. And then he had to bend his head; she made a +parting again in his stiff obstinate hair, that never would remain +straight. And then she could not restrain herself, but took his round +face between both her hands and pressed a quick kiss on his +forehead. + +"Why not on my mouth?" he thought to himself. "A mother would have +kissed her child on his mouth." + +They went down to breakfast. There were flowers on the table; his +father, who was wearing a frock coat, was already seated, and the gold +watch lay on Wolfgang's plate. A splendid watch. He examined it +critically; yes, he liked it. "In remembrance of April 1, 1901," was +engraved inside the gold case. Neither Kesselborn nor Lehmann would get +such a watch, none of the boys who were to be confirmed would get +anything like such a beauty. It was awfully heavy--he really ought to +have a gold chain now. + +Wolfgang's parents watched him as he stood there with the +watch in his hand, looking at it yes, he was pleased. And that pleased +them, especially Käte. She had wanted to have a text engraved inside it +as well, but Paul did not wish it: don't let them get sentimental about +it. But it was all right as it was, the boy was pleased with the gift, +and so they had gained their object. + +"It strikes as well," she said to him eagerly. "You can know what +time it is in the dark. Look. If you press here--do you see?" + +"Yes. Give it to me--you've to press here." He knew all about +it. + +They had lost count of the time; they had to be going. Wolfgang +walked to the station between his parents. When they passed the house +where Lämke was hall-porter, Frida was standing at the door. She must +have got up earlier than usual this Sunday; she was already in her +finery, looked very nice and smiled and nodded. Then Frau Lämke stuck +her head out of the low cellar-window, and followed the boy with her +eyes. + +"There he goes," she philosophised. "Who knows what life has in +store for him?" She felt quite moved. + +It was splendid weather, a real spring day. The tasteful villas +looked so festive and bright; all the bushes were shooting, and the +crocuses, tulips and primroses were in bloom. Even Berlin with its +large grey houses and its noise and traffic showed a Sunday face. It +was so much quieter in the streets; true, the electric cars were +rushing along and there were cabs and carriages, but there were no +waggons about, no brewers' and butchers' carts. Everything was so much +quieter, as though subdued, softened. The streets seemed broader than +usual because they were emptier, and the faces of the people who walked +there looked different from what they generally did. + +The candidates for confirmation were streaming to the +church; there was a large number of boys and girls. Most of the girls +drove, for they all belonged to good families. + +Ah, all those boys and girls. Käte could hardly suppress a slight +feeling of longing, almost of envy: oh, to be as young as they were. +But then every selfish thought was swallowed up in the one feeling: the +boy, the boy was stepping out of childhood's land now. God be with +him! + +Feelings she had not known for a long time, childlike, devout, quite +artless feelings crowded in upon her; everything the years and her +worldly life had brought with them fell from her. To-day she was young +again, as young as those kneeling at the altar, full of confidence, +full of hope. + +Dr. Baumann spoke grave words full of advice to the boys and girls; +many of the young children sobbed, and their mothers, too. A shudder +passed through the crowded church, the young dark and fair heads bent +low. Käte's eyes sought Wolfgang; his head was the darkest of all. But +he did not keep it bent, his eyes wandered restlessly all over the +church until they came to a certain window; there they remained fixed. +What was he looking for there? Of what was he thinking? She imagined +she could see that his thoughts were far away, and that made her +uneasy. Moving nearer to her husband she whispered: "Do you see +him?" + +He nodded and whispered: "Certainly. He's bigger than all the +others." There was something of a father's pride in the man's whisper. +Yes, to-day it came home to him: even if they had had many a sorrow +they would not have had under other circumstances, many a discomfort +and unpleasantness, still they had had many a joy they would otherwise +have missed. In spite of everything the boy might in time be all right. +How he was growing. There was an expression about his mouth +that was almost manly. It had never struck his father before--was it +the black clothes that made the boy look so grave? + +Wolfgang's thoughts went along paths of their own; not along those +prescribed there. He had many sensations, but he could not keep hold of +any; he was lost in thought. He saw a bit of the sky through a square +in the window-pane, and the flitting figures of his father, mother, +Frida, his masters and school-fellows appeared to him in it. But they +all glided past, no vision remained. All at once he felt quite alone +among all that crowd of people. + +When his turn came he stepped mechanically up to the altar with +Kullrich beside him; Lehmann and Kesselborn were in front of him. How +he hated those two again all at once. He would have liked to throw his +watch, his gold watch at their feet: there, take it! But take back +what you've said, take it back! Ugh, what a terrible night that had +been--horrible. He felt it still in all his limbs; his feet were heavy, +and as he knelt down on the cushion on the step leading up to the altar +his knees were stiff. Kullrich was crying the whole time. Ah, he was no +doubt thinking of his mother, who was not with him any longer. Poor +fellow! And Wolfgang felt suddenly that something moist and hot forced +its way into his eyes. + +The organ above them was being played very softly, and the clergyman +repeated the texts he had chosen for the candidates in a low voice to +the accompaniment of its gentle tones: + +"Revelation, 21st chapter, 4th verse. _And God shall wipe away all +tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither +sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the +former things are passed away._" + +Ah, that was for Kullrich. He raised his face, that was wet +with tears and so red and hot, to receive the comforting words. But +now, now--Wolfgang stopped breathing--now _his_ text was coming. What +kind of a text would he get, what would he say to _him_? + +"Hebrews, 13th chapter, 14th verse. _For here have we no continuing +city, but we seek one to come._" + +That was to be for him--that? What was the meaning of it? A terrible +disappointment came over Wolfgang, for--had he not waited for the text +as for a revelation? The text was to be a judgment of God. It was to +tell him what was true--or what was not true. And now? + +_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come._ That did not +tell him anything. + +He got up from the steps mechanically, deceived in all his hopes. He +did not see that his mother's eyes sent him a covert greeting, that his +father was surreptitiously nodding to him with a friendly expression on +his face; he felt quite disillusioned, quite bewildered by this +disappointment. + +If only it had been over now. How tiring it was to sit quiet for so +long. Wolfgang was pale and yawned covertly; the long night during +which he had not slept made itself felt, he could hardly keep himself +from falling asleep. At last, at last the "Amen" was said, at last, at +last the final hymn pealed from the organ. + +The enormous crowd poured out of the church like a never-ending +flood. Each child joined its parents and passed through the church +porch between its father and mother. + +Wolfgang walked like that, too, as he had done before. He saw +Kullrich in front of him--with his father only; both of them still wore +the broad mourning-band. Then he left his father and mother and hurried +after Kullrich. He had never been on specially friendly terms with him, +but he took hold of his hand now and pressed and shook it in +silence, without a word, and then went back again quickly. + +Her boy's impulsive sympathy touched Käte greatly; altogether she +was very much moved that day. When Wolfgang walked beside her again, +she looked at him sideways the whole time with deep emotion: oh, he was +so good, so good. And her heart sent up burning hopes and desires to +heaven. + +The sky was bright, so blue, there was not a cloud on it. + +They took a carriage so as to drive home, as both parents felt they +could not be crowded together in the train with so many indifferent, +chattering people; they wanted to be alone with their son. Wolfgang was +silent. He sat opposite his mother and allowed his hand to remain in +hers, which she kept on her lap, but his fingers did not return her +tender, warm pressure. He sat as quiet as though his thoughts were not +there at all. + +They drove past the house again in which Lämke was porter; Frida +sprang to the window on hearing the noise the carriage made on the +hard, sun-baked road, and smiled and nodded once more. But there was +nothing to be seen of Frau Lämke now, and Wolfgang missed her. Well, +that afternoon as soon as he could get free he would go to the +Lämkes. + +Some guests were already waiting for them at the villa. They did not +wish to invite a lot of outsiders in honour of the confirmation, but +still the good old doctor, his wife, and the two partners had to be +asked--all elderly people. Wolfgang sat between them without saying +much more than "yes" and "no," when questions were put to him. But he +ate and drank a good deal; the food was always good, but still you did +not get caviar and plovers' eggs every day. His face grew redder and +redder, and then his head began to swim. At last his health was drunk +in champagne, and Braumüller, the oldest partner, a very +jovial man, had amused himself by filling the boy's glass again and +again. + +"Well, Wolfgang, that will be grand when you come to the office. +Your health, my boy." + +It was almost five o'clock when they got up from table. The ladies +sat down in the drawing-room to have a cup of coffee, the gentlemen +went to the smoking-room. Wolfgang stole away, he felt such a longing +for the Lämkes. First of all he wanted to show them the gold watch, and +then he wanted to ask what text Frida had got at her confirmation, and +then, then--what would Frau Lämke say to him? + +_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come_; that was +really a stupid text. And still he could not get it out of his head. He +thought of it the whole time whilst sauntering slowly along through the +soft silvery air of spring, that is so full of presages. No, the text +was not so stupid, after all. He knit his brows thoughtfully, looked up +at the motionless tops of the pines and then around him--"Here have we +no continuing city"--could not that also mean, here is not your home? +But where then--where? + +A strange gleam came into his dark eyes, a look as if seeking for +something. And then his face, which the wine had flushed, grew pale. If +it were true what the two had said? Oh, and so many other things +occurred to him all at once: there had been that Lisbeth, that horrid +woman who had been with them before Cilia came--what was all that +Lisbeth had always been babbling about when she was in a bad humour? +"You've no right here"--"you're here on sufferance"--and so on, only he +could not remember it all now. What a pity! At that time he had been +too young and too innocent, but now--now? + +"Hang that woman!" He clenched his hand. But oh, if he only +had her there now. He would not call her names, oh no, he would get it +out of her quite gently and coaxingly, for he must, he must know it +now. + +A violent longing, a burning curiosity had suddenly been roused in +him, and would not be repressed any longer. There must be some truth in +it, or how could they have taunted him like that? And he must know the +truth; he had a right to know it now. His figure grew taller. Self-will +and defiance engraved deep, firm lines round his mouth. And even if it +were ever so terrible, he must know it. But was it terrible? The lines +round his lips became softer. "Here have we no continuing city, but we +seek one to come"--very well then, he would seek it. + +He gave up sauntering and began to stride along more quickly. What +would Frau Lämke say? And if he should ask her now--she meant so well +by him--if he should ask her in the way a man is asked when he has to +swear to anything, if he asked her whether--yes, but what was it he +really wanted to ask her? + +His heart throbbed. Oh, that stupid heart. It often behaved as if it +were a wild bird that has been shut up in a small cage. + +He had commenced to run again; now he had to slacken his pace. And +still he was quite breathless when he came to the Lämkes. The father +and son had gone out, but the mother and daughter were sitting there as +though waiting for him. + +Frida jumped up, so that the edging she had been crocheting for the +kitchen fell to the ground, seized hold of both his hands, and her blue +eyes sparkled with admiration. "Oh, how fine you are, Wolfgang! Like a +gentleman--awfully grand." + +He smiled: that was nice of her to say it. + +But when Frau Lämke said in a voice full of feeling: "Now I +shall have to treat you as a grown-up, Wolfgang--you're getting too big +now--but I like you none the less for that, you may be sure, I could +hardly be fonder of my own children"--he felt happier than he had done +the whole day. His face grew tender and full of emotion, and he pressed +the gnarled hand that gave his such a hearty shake firmly. + +Then he sat down near them; they wanted to hear about +everything. + +He showed them his gold watch and let it strike the hour; but he did +not talk much, the atmosphere of the room filled him with a vague +feeling of delight, and he sat quite still. There was the same smell of +freshly-made coffee as once before, and the myrtle in the window and +the pale monthly rose mingled their fainter perfume with it. He had +quite forgotten that he had already been there some time; all at once +it occurred to him with a sudden feeling of dread that he had something +to ask. He cast a searching glance at the woman. She was just saying: +"Oh, how pleased your mother will be to have such a big son," when he +jerked out: "Am I her son?" And as she did not answer, but only looked +at him uncertainly with her eyes full of dismay, he almost shouted it: +"Am I her son?" + +The mother and daughter exchanged a rapid glance; Frau Lämke had +turned scarlet and looked very embarrassed. The boy had got hold of her +arms with both hands and was bending over her. There was no getting out +of it. + +"Don't tell me any lies," he said hastily. "I shall find it out all +the same. I must find it out. Is she my mother? Answer. And my +father--he isn't my real father either?" + +"Good gracious, Wolfgang, what makes you think of such a thing?" +Frau Lämke hid her embarrassment under a forced laugh. "That's all +nonsense." + +"Oh no." He remained quite serious. "I'm old enough now. I must know +it. I must." + +The woman positively writhed: oh, how disagreeable it was for her; +let the boy go somewhere else and ask. "I should get into nice trouble +with them if I told tales," she said, trying to get out of it. "Ask +your parents themselves, they'll tell you all you want to know. I'll +take care not to meddle with such things." + +Frida opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, but a +warning glance made her remain silent. Her mother flew at her angrily: +"Will you be quiet? To think of you mixing yourself up with it. What +next. On the whole, what do chits like you know about such things? +Wolfgang's father knows very well what the boy is to him and where he +got him from. And if the lady is satisfied with it, no one else has a +word to say about it." + +Wolfgang stared at the gossip. "The boys say--Lisbeth said--and now +you say--you too"--he jumped up--"I'll go and ask--them." He pointed +with his finger as though pointing at something at a great distance of +which he knew nothing. "Now I must know it." + +"But Wolfgang--no, for God's sake!" Frau Lämke pressed him down into +the chair again, quite terrified. "Lämke will beat me if he gets to +know what I've done. He may possibly lose his situation as porter +because of it--now, straightway, and the children don't earn anything +as yet. I've not said anything, have I? How can I help that other +people make you suspicious and uneasy? I don't know your mother at all +and your father will, of course, have lost sight of her long ago. Let +the whole thing lie, my boy." She wanted to soothe him, but he was not +listening. + +"My--my father?" he stammered. "So he is my real father?" + +Frau Lämke nodded. + +"But my--my real m--" He could not say the word "mother." He held +his hands before his face and his whole body quivered. He was suddenly +seized with a longing, that great passionate longing, for a mother who +had borne him. He did not say a word, but he uttered sighs that sounded +like groans. + +Frau Lämke was frightened to death; she wanted to clear herself but +made it much worse. "Tut, tut, my dear boy, such a thing often happens +in life--very decent of him that he doesn't disown you; there are heaps +who do. And you would have far to go to find anybody like the lady who +has adopted you as her own child. Splendid--simply splendid!" Frau +Lämke had often been vexed with the fine lady, but now she felt she +wanted to do her justice. "Such a mother ought to be set in gold--there +isn't such another to be found." She exhausted herself in praise. "And +who knows if it's true after all?" And with that she concluded. + +Oh, it was all true. Wolfgang had grown quiet--at least his face no +longer showed any special emotion when he let his hands fall. "I shall +have to be going now," he said. + +Frida stood there looking very distressed. She had known it all a +long time--who did not know it?--but she was very sorry indeed that +_he_ knew it now. Her clear eyes grew dim, and she looked at her friend +full of compassion. Oh, how much more beautiful her own confirmation +last Easter had been. She had not had any gold watch, only quite a +small brooch of imitation gold--it had cost one shilling and sixpence, +for she had chosen it herself with her mother--but she had been so +happy, so happy. + +"What text did you get?" she asked quickly, so as to take his +thoughts away from it. + +"I don't know it by heart," he said evasively, and his +cheeks that had grown pale flamed. "But it suited." And with that he +went out of the door. + +He went straight home--why should he waste any more time? the matter +was urgent. He did not notice the starlings flying in and out of their +boxes on the tall pines, did not notice that there was already a bright +crescent in the evening sky that was growing darker and darker, and a +golden star near it, he only noticed with satisfaction as he entered +the hall at the villa that the coats and hats had disappeared from +the pegs. That was good, the visitors had left. He rushed to the +drawing-room, he almost fell into the room. His father and mother were +still sitting there--no, his father and she, the--the---- + +"Come, tell us where you've been such along time," inquired his +father, not without a touch of vexation in his voice. + +"To-day, just on this day," said his mother. "They all sent you +their love, they waited for you. But it's almost eight o'clock +now." + +Wolfgang cast an involuntary glance at the clock on the +mantel-piece--right, nearly eight o'clock. But all that was immaterial +now. And, staring straight in front of him as though his eyes were +fixed on some object, he placed himself in front of the two. + +"I have something to ask you," he said. And then--it came out quite +suddenly, quite abruptly. "Whose child am I?" + +Now it was said. The young voice sounded hard. Or did it only sound +so cutting to Käte's ears? She heard something terribly shrill, like +the dissonant blast of a trumpet. O God, there it was, that awful +question. A sudden wave of blood laid a thick veil covered with +glittering spots before her eyes; she could not see her boy any more, +she only heard his question. She stretched out her hand +gropingly, helplessly--thank God, there was her husband! He was still +there. And now she heard him speak. + +"What makes you ask that question?" said Paul Schlieben. "Our son of +course. Whose child could you be otherwise?" + +"I don't know. That's just what I want to know from you," the boy +went on in his hard voice. + +It was strange how calm the voice sounded, but it seemed doubly +terrible to Käte in its monotony. + +Now it became a little louder: "Give me an answer--I will--I must +know it." + +Käte shuddered. What inexorableness, what obstinacy lay in that "I +will"--"I must!" He would never stop asking again. She sank down as +though crushed, and shuddered. + +Even the man's quiet voice betrayed a secret tremor. "Dear boy, +somebody--I will not ask who, there are always enough gossips and +abettors--has again put something into your head. Why do you treat us +as if we were your enemies? Haven't we always been like a father and +mother to you?" + +Oh, that was wrong--_like_ a father and mother? Quite wrong. Käte +started up. She stretched out her arms: "My boy!" + +But he remained standing as though he did not see those outstretched +arms; his brows were contracted, he only looked at the man. "I know +very well that you are my father, but she"--he cast a quick sidelong +glance at her--"she's not my mother." + +"Who says that?" Käte shrieked it. + +"Everybody." + +"No, nobody. That's not true. It's a lie, a lie! You are my child, +my son, our son I And the one who denies that lies, deceives, +slanders!----" + +"Käte!" Her husband looked at her very gravely, and there was a +reproach in his voice and a warning. "Käte!" + +And then he turned to the boy, who stood there so sullenly, almost +defiantly--drawn up to his full height, with one foot outstretched, his +head thrown back--and said: "Your mother is naturally very much +agitated, you must take care of her--to-day especially. Go now, and +to-morrow we will----" + +"No, no!" Käte did not let him finish speaking, she cried in the +greatest excitement: "No, don't postpone it. Let him speak--now--let +him. And answer him--now--at once that he is our son, our son alone. +Wolfgang--Wölfchen!" She used the old pet name from his childhood again +for the first time for months. "Wölfchen, don't you love us any more? +Wölfchen, come to me." + +She stretched out her arms to him once more, but he did not see +those longing, loving, outstretched arms again. He was very pale and +his eyes were fixed on the ground. + +"Wölfchen, come." + +"I cannot." + +His face never moved, and his voice had still the same monotonous +tone which sounded so terrible to her. She sobbed aloud, and her eyes +clung to her husband--he must help her now. But he looked at her with a +frown; she could plainly read the reproach in his face: "Why did you +not follow my advice? Had we told him in time--" No, she would not find +any help in him either. And now--what was it Paul was saying now? Her +eyes dilated with a sudden fear, she grasped the arms of her chair with +both hands, she wanted to sink back and still she started up to ward +off what must come now Was Paul out of his mind? He was saying: "You +are not our son." + +"Not your son?" The boy stammered. He had made up his mind +that nothing should disconcert him, but this answer disconcerted him +all the same. It bewildered him; he turned red, then white, and his +eyes wandered uncertainly from the man to the woman, from the woman to +the man. + +So he, too--that man--was not his father either? But Frau Lämke had +said so? Oh, so he wanted to disown him now? He looked suspiciously at +the man, and then something that resembled mortification arose within +him. If he were not his father, then he had really no--no right +whatever to be there? + +And, drawing a step nearer, he said hastily: "You must be my father. +You only don't want to say it now. But she"--he gave a curt nod in the +direction of the chair--"she's not my mother." His eyes gleamed; then +he added, drawing a long breath as though it were a relief: "I've +always known that." + +"You've been wrongly informed. If I had had my way, I +would have told you the truth long ago. But as the right +moment--unfortunately--has been neglected, I will tell you it to-day. +I tell you it--on my word of honour, as one man speaking to another--I +am not your father, just as little as she is your mother. You have +nothing to do with us by birth, nothing whatever. But we have adopted +you as our child because we wanted to have a child and had not one. We +took you from----" + +"Paul!" Käte fell on her husband's breast with a loud cry, as she +had done at the time when he wanted to disclose something to the boy, +because he was indignant at his ingratitude. She clasped her arms round +his neck, she whispered hastily, passionately in his ear with trembling +breath: "Don't tell him from where. For God's sake not from where. Then +he'll go away, then I shall lose him entirely. I can't bear it--have +mercy, have pity on me--only don't tell him from where." + +He wanted to push her away, but she would not let go of him. She +repeated her weeping, stammering entreaty, her trembling, terrified, +desperate prayer: only not from where, only not from where. + +He felt a great compassion for her. His poor, poor wife--was this to +happen to her? And then he was filled with anger against the boy, who +stood there so bold--arrogant--yes, arrogant--who demanded where he had +to ask, and looked at them unmoved with large, cold eyes. + +His voice, which had hitherto been grave but gentle whilst speaking +to Wolfgang, now became severe: "Besides, I won't allow you to question +me in this manner." + +"I have a right to question you." + +"Yes, you have." The man was quite taken aback. Yes, the lad had the +right. It was quite clear who was wrong. And so he said, thinking +better of it and in a more friendly voice again: "But even if you are +not our son by birth, I think the training and the care you have +received from our hands during all these years have made you our child +in spirit. Come, my son--and even if they all say you are not our son, +I tell you you are our son in truth." + +"No," he said. And then he walked slowly backwards to the door, his +dry eyes fixed on those he had called parents for so long. + +"Boy, where are you going? Stop!" the man called after him in a kind +voice. The boy was certainly in a terrible position, they must have +patience with him. And he called out once more "Stop, Wolfgang!" + +But Wolfgang shook his head: "I cannot. You have deceived me. Let me +go." He shook off the man's hand that he had laid on his sleeve with a +violent gesture. + +And then he screamed out like a wounded animal: "Why do you still +worry me? Let me go, I want to think of my mother--where is she?" + + + + + +BOOK III + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The clocks in the house ticked terribly loudly. They could be heard +through the silence of the night like warning voices. + +Oh, how quickly the time flew. It had quite lately been +evening--midnight--and now the clock on the mantel-piece already struck +a short, clear, hard one. + +The lonely woman pressed her hands to her temples with a shudder. +How they throbbed, and how her thoughts--torturing thoughts--hurried +along, madly, restlessly, like the hasty tick of the clocks. + +Everybody in the house was asleep--the manservant, the maids, her +husband too--long ago. Only she, she alone had not found any sleep as +yet. + +And everything was asleep outside as well. The pines stood around +the house motionless, and their dark outlines, as stiff as though cut +out of cardboard, stood out clearly against the silvery sky of +night. + +No shouts, no footsteps, no sound of wheels, no singing, no +laughter, not even a dog's bark came from the sleeping colony in the +Grunewald. But something that sounded like a gentle sighing was heard +around the white villa with the red roof and the green shutters. + +The mother, who was waiting for her son, listened: was anybody +there? No, it was the breeze that was trying to move the branches of +the old gnarled pines. + +Käte Schlieben was standing at the window now. She had torn it open +impatiently some time before, and now she leant out of it. As far as +her eye could reach there was nobody to be seen, nobody whatever. There +was still no sign of him. + +The clock struck two. The woman gazed round at the mantel-piece with +an almost desperate look: oh, that unbearable clock, how it tortured +her. It must be wrong. It could not be so late. + +Käte had sat up waiting for Wolfgang many an evening, but he had +never remained out so long as to-day. Paul had no objection to the boy +going his own way. "My child," he had said, "you can't alter it. Lie +down and go to sleep, that is much more sensible. The boy has the key, +he will come home all right. You can't keep a young fellow of his age +in leading-strings any longer. Leave him, or you'll make him dislike +our house--do leave him in peace." + +What strange thoughts Paul had. He was certainly quite right, she +must not keep the boy in leading-strings any longer. She was not able +to do so either--had never been able to do so. But how could she go to +bed quietly? She would not be able to sleep. Where could he be? + +Käte had grown grey. In the three years that had elapsed since her +son's confirmation she had changed considerably outwardly. Whilst +Wolfgang had grown taller and stronger and broader like a young tree, +her figure had drooped like a flower that is heavy with rain or is +about to wither. Her fine features had remained the same, but her skin, +which had retained almost the delicate smoothness of a young girl's for +so long, had become looser; her eyes looked as if she had wept a great +deal. Her acquaintances found Frau Schlieben had grown much older. + +When Käte saw herself in the glass now, she did not blush with +pleasure at the sight of her own well-preserved looks; she did not like +looking at herself any more. Something had given her a shock both +inwardly and outwardly. What that had been nobody guessed. Her husband +knew it certainly, but he did not speak of it to his wife. Why agitate +her again? Why tear open old wounds? + +He took good care never again to mention the day on which the boy +had been confirmed. It was also best not to do so. He had certainly +taken him very severely to task on account of his ungrateful behaviour +at the time, and had demanded of him that he should treat them more +considerately and his mother also more affectionately. And the lad, who +had no doubt repented of his conduct long ago, had stood there like a +poor sinner; he had said nothing and had not raised his eyes. And when +his father had finally led him to his mother, he had allowed himself to +be led and to be embraced by his mother, who had thrown both her arms +round his neck. She had wept over him and then kissed him. + +And then nothing more had ever been said about it. + +The white house with its bright green and red, which was always +being embellished and improved, both inside and out, struck everybody +who passed by as extremely cosy. The trippers on Sundays used to stand +outside the wrought iron railing and admire the abundance of flowers, +the ivy-leaved geraniums on the balconies and the splendid show of fine +rose-trees in summer, the azaleas and camellias behind the thick glass +of the conservatory and the rows of coloured primulas and early +hyacinths and tulips between the double windows in winter. The lady in +her dress of soft cloth and with the wavy grey hair and the gentle +face, with its rather sad smile, suited the house and the +flowers and her peaceful surroundings well. "Delightful," the people +used to say. + +When Wolfgang heard such things in former years when he was a boy, +he used to make faces at the people: the house and garden were no +concern of theirs, there was nothing to admire about them. Now it +flattered him when they remained standing, when they even envied him. +Oh yes, the place was quite nice. He felt very important. + +Paul Schlieben and his wife had never placed any special value on +money, they had always had enough, a competency was simply a matter of +course to them; and they never guessed that their son placed any value +on wealth. When Wolfgang used to think now of how little he had once +cared for it all in his boyish impetuosity, and that he had run away +without money, without bread, he had to smile. How childish. And when +he remembered that he once, when he was already older and able to +reflect upon his actions, had asked impetuously for something that +would have been equivalent to giving up all that made his life so +comfortable, he shook his head now. Too silly. + +To compare himself with others afforded him a certain satisfaction. +Kesselborn was still sweating in the top form--his people made a point +of his studying theology, possibly in order to become court chaplain on +account of his noble birth--Lehmann had to help his father in his +forwarding business in spite of the very good examination he had passed +on leaving school, and look after the furniture-vans. And Kullrich--ah, +poor Kullrich, he had consumption, like his mother. + +The corners of Wolfgang's mouth drooped with a half-contemptuous, +half-compassionate smile when he thought of his school-fellows. Was +that living? Oh, and to live, to live was so beautiful! + +Wolfgang was conscious of his strength: he could tear up trees by +the roots, blow down walls that stood in his way with his breath as +though they were cards. + +School was no longer the place for him, his limbs and his +inclinations had outgrown the benches. Besides, he was already growing +a moustache. There had long been a black shadow on the upper lip that +made one guess it was coming, and now it had come, it had come! + +Surely such a grown-up person could not remain in the second form +any longer? And why should he? He was not to be a scholar. Wolfgang +left school after passing the examination that admitted him to the top +form. + +Paul Schlieben had given up, for the present, his intention of +sending him abroad as soon as he had finished school; he wished to keep +him a little longer under his own eye first. Not that he wanted to +guard him as carefully as Käte did, but the old doctor, their good +friend whom he esteemed so highly, had warned him in confidence once +when they were sitting quite alone over a glass of wine: "Listen, +Schlieben," he had said, "you had better take care of the boy. I +wouldn't let him go so far away as yet--he is so young. And he is a +rampageous fellow and--after what he went through as a child, you +know--hm, one can never tell if his heart will hold out." + +"Why not?" Schlieben had asked in surprise. "So you look upon him as +ill?" + +"No, certainly not." The doctor had grown quite angry: at once this +exaggeration! "Who says anything about 'ill'? All the same, the lad +must not do everything in a rush. Well, and boys will be boys. We know +that from our time." + +And both men had nodded to each other, had brightened up and +laughed. + +Wolfgang had a horse to ride on, rode first at the riding-school and +then a couple of hours each day out of doors. His father made a point +of his not sitting too much at the office. He would easily learn what +was necessary for him to know as a merchant, and arithmetic he knew +already. + +The two partners, old bachelors, were delighted with the lively lad, +who came to the office with his whip in his hand and sat on his stool +as if it were a horse. + +Paul Schlieben did not hear any complaints of his son; the whole +staff, men who had been ten, twenty years with the firm, all well-oiled +machines that worked irreproachably, hung round the young fellow: he +was their future chief. Everything worked smoothly. + +Both father and mother were complimented on their son. "A splendid +fellow. What life there is in him." "He's only in the making," the man +would answer, but still you could see that he was pleased to hear it in +his heart. He did not feel the torturing anxiety his wife felt. Käte +only raised her eyebrows a little and gave a slight, somewhat sad smile +of consent. + +She could not rejoice in the big lad any longer, as she had once +rejoiced in the little fellow on her lap. It seemed to her as though +she had altogether lost the capacity for rejoicing, slowly, it is true, +quite gradually, but still steadily, until the last remnant of the +capacity had been torn out by the roots on one particular day, in one +particular hour, at the disastrous moment when he had said: "I will go, +I want to think of my mother--where is she?" Ever since then. She still +wished him to have the best the earth could give, but she had become +more indifferent, tired. He had trodden too heavily on her heart, more +heavily than when in days gone by his small vigorous feet had stamped +on her lap. + +She bent further out of the window with a deep sigh, as she waited +all alone for him. Was it not unheard of, unpardonable of him to come +home so late? Did he not know that she was waiting for him? + +She clenched her hand, which rested on the windowsill, in such a +paroxysm of anger as she had rarely felt. It was foolish of her to wait +for him. Was he not old enough--eighteen? Did he still want waiting for +like a boy coming home alone from a children's party for the first +time? He had made an appointment with some other young fellows in +Berlin--who knew in what café they were spending their night? + +She stamped her foot. Her hot breath rose like smoke in the cold +clear night in spring, she shivered with exhaustion and discomfort. And +then she thought of the hours, all the hours during which she had +watched for him already, and her heart was filled with a great +bitterness. Even her tongue had a bitter taste--that was gall. No, she +did not feel the love of former years for him any longer. In those +days, yes, in those days she had felt a rapture--even when she suffered +on his account; but now she only felt a dull animosity. Why had he +forced himself into her life? Oh, how smooth, how free from sorrow, +how--yes, how much happier it had been formerly. How he had broken her +spirit--would she ever be able to rise again? + +No. A hard curt no. And then she thought of her husband. He had also +robbed her of him. Had not he and she been one formerly, one in +everything? Now this third one had forced his way between them, pushed +her husband and her further and further apart--until he went on this +side and she on that. + +A sudden pain seized the woman as she stood there pondering, a great +compassion for herself drove the tears into her eyes; they felt hot as +they dripped down on her hands that she had clenched on the +window-sill. If he--if he had only never come into their lives---- + +At that moment a hand touched her shoulder and made her start. She +turned round like lightning: "Are you there at last?" + +"It's I," said her husband. He had woke up, and when he did not hear +her breathing beside him he had got vexed: really, now she was sitting +downstairs again, waiting for the lad. Such want of sense. And after +lying a little time longer waiting for her and vexed with her, he had +cast on a few necessary garments, stuck on his slippers and groped his +way through the dark house. He shivered with cold and was in a bad +humour. That he had been disturbed in his best sleep and that she would +have a sick headache next day was not all; no, what was worse was that +Wolfgang must find it downright intolerable to be watched in that +manner. + +It was natural that he scolded her. "What wrong is there if he +remains away a little longer for once in a way, I should like to know, +Käte? It's really absurd of you. I used also to loaf about as a young +fellow, but thank goodness, my mother was sensible enough not to mind. +Come, Käte, come to bed now." + +She drew back. "Yes--you!" she said slowly, and he did not know what +she meant by it. She turned her back on him and leant out of the window +again. + +He stood a few moments longer waiting, but as she did not come, did +not even turn round to him, he shook his head. He would have to leave +her, she really was getting quite peculiar. + +He was half asleep as he went upstairs again alone; he almost +stumbled with fatigue, and his limbs were heavy. But in spite of that +his thoughts were clearer, more inexorable than in the daytime, when +there is so much around one to distract one's attention. At that hour +his heart was filled with longing for a wife who would lead him quietly +and gently along a soft track in his old age, and whose smiles were +not only outward as the smiles on Käte's face. A wife whose heart +laughed--and, alas, his Käte was not one of those. + +The man lay down again with a sigh of disappointment and shivered as +he drew up the covering. But it was a long time before he could fall +asleep. If only the lad would come. It really was rather late to-day. +Such loafing about realty went too far. + +The morning was dawning as a cab drove slowly down the street. It +stopped outside the white villa, and two gentlemen helped a third out +of it. The two, who were holding the third under his arms, were +laughing, and the driver on his seat, who was looking down at them full +of interest, also laughed slyly: "Shall I help you, gentlemen? Well, +can you do it?" + +They leant him up against the railing that enclosed the front +garden, rang the bell gently, then jumped hastily into the cab again +and banged the door. "Home now, cabby." + +The bell had only vibrated softly--a sound like a terrified +breath--but Käte had heard it, although she had fallen asleep in her +chair; not firmly, only dozing a little. She jumped up in terror, it +sounded shrill in her ears. She rushed to the window. Somebody was +leaning against the railing outside. Wolfgang? Yes, yes, it was. But +why did he not open the gate and come in? + +What had happened to him? All at once she felt as though she must +call for help--Friedrich! Paul! Paul!--must ring for the maids. +Something had happened to him, something must have happened to him--why +did he not come in? + +He leant so heavily against the railing, so strangely. His +head hung down on his chest, his hat was at the back of his head. Was +he ill? + +Or had some vagrants attacked him? The strangest ideas shot suddenly +through her head. Was he wounded? O God, what had happened to him? + +Fears, at which she would have laughed at any other time, filled her +mind in this hour, in which it was not night any longer and not day +either. Her feet were cold and stiff as though frozen, she could hardly +get to the door; she could not find the key at first, and when her +trembling hands stuck it into the lock, she could not turn it. She was +so awkward in her haste, so beside herself in her fear. Something +terrible must have happened. An accident. She felt it. + +At last, at last! At last she was able to turn the key. And now she +rushed through the front garden to the gate; a chilling icy wind like +the breath of winter met her. She opened the gate: "Wolfgang!" + +He did not answer. She could not quite see his face; he stood there +without moving. + +She took hold of his hand: "Good gracious, what's the matter with +you?" + +He did not move. + +"Wolfgang! Wolfgang!" She shook him in the greatest terror. Then he +fell against her so heavily that he almost knocked her down, and +faltered, lisped like an idiot whose heavy tongue has been taught to +say a few words: "Beg--par--don." + +She had to lead him. His breath, which smelt strongly of spirits, +blew across her face. A great disgust, more terrible than the fear she +had had before, took possession of her. This was the awful thing she +had been expecting no, this was still more awful, more intolerable. He +was drunk, drunk! This was what a drunken man must look like. + +A drunken man had never been near her before; now she had one close +to her. The horror she felt shook her so that her teeth chattered. Oh +for shame, for shame, how disgusting, how vulgar! How degraded he +seemed to her, and she felt degraded, too, through him. This was not +her Wolfgang any more, the child whom she had adopted as her son. This +was quite an ordinary, quite a common man from the street, with whom +she had nothing, nothing whatever to do any more. + +She wanted to push him away from her quickly, to hurry into the +house and close the door behind her--let him find out for himself what +to do. But he held her fast. He had laid his arm heavily round her +neck, he almost weighed her down; thus he forced her to lead him. + +And she led him reluctantly, revolting desperately in her heart, but +still conquered. She could not leave him, exposed to the servants' +scorn, the laughter of the street. If anybody should see him in that +condition? It would not be long before the first people came past, the +milk-boys, the girls with the bread, the men working in the street, +those who drank Carlsbad water early in the morning. Oh, how terrible +if anybody should guess how deeply he had sunk. + +"Lean on me, lean heavily," she said in a trembling voice. "Pull +yourself together--that's right." She almost broke down under his +weight but she kept him on his feet. He was so drunk that he did not +know what he was doing, he actually wanted to lie down in front of the +door, at full length on the stone steps. But she snatched him up. + +"You must--you must," she said, and he followed her like a child. +Like a dog, she thought. + +Now she had got him into the hall--the front door was again +locked--but now came the fear that the servants would see him. +They were not up yet, but it would not be long before Friedrich would +walk over from the gardener's lodge in his leather slippers, and the +girls come down from their attics, and then the sweeping and tidying up +would commence, the opening of the windows, the drawing up of the +blinds, so that the bright light--the cruel light--might force its way +into every crevice. She must get him up the stairs, into his room +without anybody guessing anything, without asking anyone for help. + +She had thought of her husband for one moment--but no, not him +either, nobody must see him like that. She helped him upstairs with a +strength for which she had never given herself credit; she positively +carried him. And all the time she kept on entreating him to go quietly, +whispering the words softly but persistently. She had to coax him, or +he would not go on: "Quietly, Wölfchen. Go on, go on, Wölfchen--that's +splendid, Wölfchen." + +She suffered the torments of hell. He stumbled and was noisy; she +gave a start every time he knocked his foot against the stairs, every +time the banisters creaked when he fell against them helplessly, and a +terrible fear almost paralysed her. If anybody should hear it, oh, if +anybody should hear it. But let them get on, on. + +"Quietly, Wölfchen, quite quietly." It sounded like an entreaty, and +still it was a command. As he had conquered her before by means of his +heavy arm, so she conquered him now by means of her will. + +Everybody in the house must be deaf, that they did not hear the +noise. To the woman every step sounded like a clap of thunder that +continues to roll and roll through the wide space and resounds in the +furthermost corner. Paul must be deaf as well. They passed his door. +The intoxicated lad remained standing just outside his parents' +bedroom, he would not on any account go further--in there--not a step +further. She had to entice him, as she had enticed the child in bygone +days, the sweet little child with the eyes like sloes that was to run +from the chair to the next halting-place. "Come, Wölfchen, come." And +she brought him past in safety. + +At last they were in his room. "Thank God, thank God!" she +stammered, when she had got him on the bed. She was as pale as the lad, +whose face with its silly expression grew more and more livid as the +day dawned. Ah, that was the same room in which she had once, many +years ago--it was exceedingly long ago!--fought for the child's +precious life with fear and trembling, where she had crawled before +God's omnipotence like a worm: only let him live, O God, only let him +live! Alas, it would have been better had he died then. + +As an arrow shot from a too tight bow whizzes along as quick as +lightning, so that thought whizzed through her mind. She was horrified +at the thought, she could not forgive herself for having had it, but +she could not get rid of it again. She stood with shaking knees, +terrified at her own heartlessness, and still the thought came: if only +he had died at the time, it would have been better. This--this was also +the room in which she had tried on the suit the boy, who was growing so +fast, was to wear at his confirmation. Now she drew off the grown-up +man's clothes, tore off his dinner jacket, his fine trousers--as well +as she could in his present state of complete unconsciousness--and +unlaced his glacé shoes. + +Where had he been? A smell of cigarettes and scent and the dregs of +wine streamed from him; it almost took her breath away. There hung the +same looking-glass in which she had seen the brown boy's face near +her fair woman's face, fresh and round-cheeked, a little coarse, a +little defiant, but still so nice-looking in its vigorous strength, so +dear in its innocence. And now--? + +Her eyes glanced at the livid face with the open mouth, from which +the breath reeking with spirits came with a snore and a rattle, in the +glass, and then at her own terrified, exhausted face, on which all the +softness had been changed into hard lines that grief had worn. A +shudder passed through her; she smoothed the untidy grey strands of +hair away from her forehead with her cold hand; her eyes blinked as +though she wanted to weep. But she forced her tears back; she must not +cry any more now; that time was over. + +She stood some time longer in the centre of the room, motionless, +with bated breath, letting her tired arms hang down loosely; then she +crept on her toes to the door. He was sleeping quite firmly. She locked +the door from the outside and stuck the key in her pocket--nobody must +go in. + +Should she go to bed now? She could not sleep--oh, she was too +restless--but she would have to lie down, oh yes, she must do so, +or what would the maids think, and Paul? Then she would have to +get up again as she did every day, wash herself, dress, sit at the +breakfast-table, eat, talk, smile as she did every day, as though +nothing, nothing whatever had happened. And still so much had +happened! + +She felt so hopelessly isolated as she lay in bed beside her +husband. There was nobody to whom she could complain. Paul had not +understood her before, he would understand her even less now; he had +changed so much in the course of time. Besides, was he not quite +infatuated with the boy now? Strange, formerly when she had loved +Wolfgang so, her love had always been too much of a good thing--how +often he had reproached her for it!--and now, now!--no, they +simply did not understand each other any longer. She would have to +fight her battles alone, quite alone. + +When Käte heard the first sounds in the house, she would have liked +to get up, but she forced herself to remain in bed: it would attract +their attention if they saw her so early. But a great fear tortured +her. If that person--that, that intoxicated person over there should +awake, make a noise, bang on the locked door? What should she say then +to make excuses for him? What should she do? She lay in bed quite +feverish with uneasiness. At last it was her usual time to get up. + +"I suppose the boy came home terribly late--or rather early, eh?" +said Paul at breakfast. + +"Oh no. Just after you went upstairs." + +"Really? But I lay awake quite a long time after that." + +He had said it lightly, unsuspiciously, but she got a fright +nevertheless. "We--we--he talked to me for quite a long time," she said +hesitatingly. + +"Foolish," he said, nothing more, and shook his head. + +Oh, how difficult it was to tell lies. In what a position Wolfgang +placed her. + +When Schlieben had driven to town and the cook was busy in the +kitchen and Friedrich in the garden, Käte kept an eye on the housemaid. +What a long time she was in the bedroom to-day. "You must finish the +rooms upstairs more quickly, you are excessively slow," she said in a +sharp voice. + +The maid looked at her mistress, quite astonished at the unusual way +in which she spoke to her, and said later on to the cook downstairs: +"Ugh, what a bad temper the mistress is in to-day. She has been after +me." + +Käte had stood beside the girl until the bedroom was finished, she +had positively rushed her. Now she was alone, quite alone with +him up there, now she could see what was the matter with him. + +Would he still be drunk? As she stood outside his door she held her +breath; putting her ear to the door she listened. There was nothing to +be heard inside, not even his breathing. After casting a glance around +her she opened the door like a thief, crept inside and locked it again +behind her. She approached the bed cautiously and softly; but she +started back so hastily that the high-backed chair she knocked against +fell over with a loud noise. What was that--there? What was it? + +A disgusting smell, which filled the closed room, made her feel +sick. Staggering to the window she tore it open, thrust back the +shutters--then she saw. There he lay like an animal--he, who had always +been accustomed to so much attention, he who as a child had stretched +out his little hands if only a crumb had stuck to them: "Make them +clean!" and had cried. There he lay now as if he did not feel anything, +as if he did not care anything whatever about what was going on around +him, as if the bed on which he lay were fresh and clean; his eyes, with +their jet-black lashes that fell like shadows on his pale cheeks, were +firmly closed, and he slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion. + +She did not know what she was doing. She raised her hand to strike +him in the face, to throw a word at him--a violent word expressive of +disgust and loathing; she felt how the saliva collected in her mouth, +how she longed to spit. It was too horrible, too filthy, too terrible! + +A stream of light forced its way in through the open window, of +light and sun; a blackbird was singing, full and clear. Outside was the +sun, outside was beauty, but here, here? She would have liked to cover +up her face and whimper, to run away and conceal herself. But +who should do what was necessary? Who should make everything tidy and +clean? The chair she had knocked down, the clothes she had drawn off +him so hastily, the disgusting smell--alas, all reminded her only too +distinctly of a wild night. It must not remain like that. And even if +she did not love him any longer--no, no, there was no voice in her +heart now that spoke of love--her pride bade her not to humble herself +before the servants. Let her get it away quickly, quickly, let nobody +else find out anything about it. + +She set her teeth hard, pressing back the disgust that rose again +and again as though to choke her, and commenced to wash, scrub, clean. +She fetched water for herself again and again, the pitcher full, a +whole pailful. She had to do it furtively, to creep across the passage +on tiptoe. Oh dear, how the water splashed, how noisily it poured into +the pail when she turned the tap on. If only nobody, nobody found out +anything about it. + +She had found a cloth to scour with, and what she had never done +before in her life she did now, for she lay on her knees like a servant +and rubbed the floor, and crept about in front of the bed and under the +bed, and stretched out her arms so as to be sure to get into every +corner. Nothing must be forgotten, everything must be flooded with +fresh, clean, purifying water. Everything in the room seemed to her to +be soiled--as though it were damaged and degraded--the floor, the +furniture, the walls. She would have preferred to have washed the +wall-paper too, that beautiful deep-coloured wallpaper, or to have torn +it off entirely. + +She had never worked like that in her life before. Her pretty +morning-gown with the silk insertions and lace clung to her body with +the perspiration of exertion and fear. The dress had dark +spots on the knees from slipping about in the wet, the hem of the train +had got into the water; her hair was dishevelled; it had come undone +and was hanging round her hot face. Nobody would have recognised Frau +Schlieben as she was now. + +At last, thank goodness! Käte looked round with a sigh of relief; +the air in the room was quite different now. The fresh wind that blew +in through the open window had cleared everything. Only he, he did not +suit amid all that cleanliness. His forehead was covered with clammy +sweat, his cheeks were livid, his lips swollen, cracked, his hair +bristly, standing straight up in tufts. Then she washed him, too, +cooled his forehead and dried it, rubbed his cheeks with soap and a +sponge, fetched a brush and comb, combed and smoothed his hair, ran +quickly across to her room, brought the Florida water that stood on her +dressing-table and sprinkled it over him. Now she had only to put on +another bed-spread. She could not do any more, it was too difficult for +her to lift him. For he did not awake. He lay there like a tree that +had been hewn down--dead, stiff, immovable--and noticed nothing of the +trembling hands that glided over him, that pulled and smoothed now +here, now there. + +She did not know how long she had been engaged with him; a knock at +the door brought her thoughts back to the present. + +"Who is there?" + +"I, Friedrich." + +"What do you want?" + +"The master wishes to know if you will come down to dinner, +ma'am." + +"To dinner--the master?" She pressed her hands to her head. Was it +possible? Paul back already--dinner-time? It could not be. "What time +is it?" she cried in a shrill voice. She never thought of +looking herself at the watch that lay on the table beside the bed; and +it would not have been any use--the expensive gold watch, the gift he +had received at his confirmation, had stopped. It had not been wound +up. + +"It's half past two, ma'am," said Friedrich outside. And then the +man, who had been there for years, ventured to inquire respectfully: +"Is the young master not well, as he has not got up? Could I perhaps be +of some use, ma'am?" + +She hesitated for a moment. Should she let him into the secret? It +would be easier for her then. But the shame of it made her call out: +"There's nothing to be done, you had better go. The young master has a +headache, he will remain in bed for another hour. I'll come +directly." + +She rushed across to her room. There was no time to change her +dress, but she would at any rate have to fasten up her hair that had +fallen down, smooth it and put a little cap on trimmed with dainty +ribbons. + +"Still in your morning-gown?" said her husband in a tone of +surprise, as she came into the dining-room. There was also a little +reproach in his voice as he asked the question; he did not like people +not to dress for dinner. + +"You came exceptionally early to-day," she said in excuse. She did +not dare to look up frankly, she felt so exceedingly humiliated. She +could not eat, an intolerable memory rendered every drink, every +mouthful loathsome. + +"Where is Wolfgang?" + +There was the question for which she really ought to have been +prepared and which crushed her nevertheless. She had no means of +warding it off. What was she to answer? Should she say he was ill? Then +his father would go up and see him. Should she say he was +drunk and sleeping? Oh no, no, and still it could not remain a secret. +She turned red and white, her lips quivered and not a word crossed +them. + +"Ha ha!" All at once her husband gave a loud laugh--a laugh partly +good-natured and partly mocking--and then he stretched his hand to her +across the table and eyed her calmly: "You must not agitate yourself +like that if the boy feels a little seedy for once in a way. Such +things do happen, every mother has to go through that." + +"But not to that degree--not to that awful degree!" She screamed out +aloud, overwhelmed with pain and anger. And then she seized her +husband's hand and squeezed it between both hers that were cold and +damp, and whispered, half stifled: "He was drunk--quite drunk--dead +drunk!" + +"Really?" The man frowned, but the smile did not quite disappear +from his lips. "Well, I'll have a word with the boy when he has +finished sleeping. Dead drunk, you say?" + +She nodded. + +"It won't have been quite as bad as that, I suppose. Still, to be +drunk--that must not happen again. To take a little too much"--he +shrugged his shoulders and a smile passed over his face as at some +pleasant memory--"by Jove, who has been young and not taken a little +too much for once in a way? Oh, I can still remember the first time I +had done so. The headache after it was appalling, but the drop too much +itself was fine, splendid! I would not like to have missed that." + +"You--you've been drunk too?" She stared at him, with eyes +distended. + +"Drunk--you mustn't call that drunk exactly. A little too much," he +corrected. "You mustn't exaggerate like that, Käte." And then +he went on with his dinner as if nothing had happened, as if the +conversation had not succeeded in depriving him of his appetite. + +She was in a fever. When would Wolfgang wake? And what would happen +then? + +Towards evening she heard his step upstairs, heard him close his +window and then open it again, heard his low whistle that always +sounded like a bird chirping. Paul was walking up and down in the +garden, smoking his cigar. She was sitting in the veranda for the first +time that spring, looking down at her husband in the garden. The +weather was mild and warm. Then she heard Wolfgang approaching; she +made up her mind she would not turn her head, she felt so ashamed, but +she turned it nevertheless. + +He was standing in the doorway leading from the dining-room to the +veranda; behind him was twilight, in front of him the brightness of the +evening sun. He blinked and pressed his eyes together, the sun shone on +his face and made it flame--or was it red because he felt so ashamed? +What would he say now? How would he begin? Her heart throbbed; she +could not have spoken a single word, her throat felt as though she were +choking. + +"Good evening," he said in a loud and cheery voice. And then he +cleared his throat as though swallowing a slight embarrassment and said +in a low voice, approaching his mother a little more: "I beg your +pardon, mater, I've overslept myself. I had no idea it was so late--I +was dead tired." + +Still she did not say anything. + +He did not know how he stood with her. She was so quiet, that +confused him a little. "The fact is, I came home very late last +night." + +"Oh! did you?" She turned her head away from him and looked +out into the garden again with eyes full of interest, where her husband +was just speaking to Friedrich and pointing with his finger to an +ornamental cherry-tree that was already in bloom. + +"I think so, at least," he said. What was he to say? Was she angry? +He must indeed have come home very late, he could not remember at what +time, altogether he could not remember anything clearly, everything +seemed rather blurred to him. He had also had a bad dream and had felt +wretched, but now he was all right again, quite all right. Well, if she +had any fault to find with him, she would have to come out with it. + +Pointing his lips again so as to whistle like a bird and with his +hands in the pockets of his smart, well-cut trousers, he was about to +go down into the garden from the veranda when she called him back. + +"Do you want anything, mater?" + +"You were drunk," she said softly, vehemently. + +"I--? Oh!" He was overcome with a sudden confusion. Had he really +been drunk? He had no idea of it. But she might be right all the same, +for he had no idea how he had come home. + +"I suppose you've again been sitting up waiting for me?" He gave her +a suspicious sidelong glance, and frowned so heavily that his dark +eyebrows met. "You mustn't always wait up for me," he said with secret +impatience, but outwardly his tone was anxious. "It makes me lose all +liking to do anything with the others if I think you are sacrificing +your night's rest. Please don't do so again, mater." + +"I won't do so again," she said, with her eyes fixed on her lap. She +could not have looked at him, she despised him so. How broad and big +and bold he had looked as he stood there saying good evening quite +happily. He had behaved as if he knew nothing of all that +had happened, that he had wanted to creep on all fours, stretch +himself on the doorstep as if that were his bed or he a dog. He was +as unembarrassed as though he had not been lying in his room at +dinner-time in such--such a filthy condition; as though she had not +seen him in his deep humiliation. No, she would never, never be able to +kiss him again or caress him, to lay her arms round his neck as she had +been so fond of doing when he was a boy. All at once he had become +quite a stranger to her. + +She did not say another word, did not reproach him. She heard what +her husband said to him, when he joined him in the garden, as if it did +not concern her. + +Although Paul Schlieben had seemed very mild when speaking to his +wife at dinner-time, he was not so now when face to face with his son. +"I hear you came home drunk--what do you mean by that?" he said to him +severely. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" + +"Who has said so?" + +"That's nothing to do with you, I know it, and that is +sufficient." + +"_She_, of course," said the boy bitterly. "The mater always +exaggerates everything. I was certainly not drunk, I only had a little +too much--we all had--good gracious, pater, you must do what the others +do! What else is one to do on such a long evening? But it was certainly +nothing bad. See how fresh I am." And he took hold of the ornamental +cherry-tree, under which they were standing, with both hands, as if he +were going to root it up, and a whole shower of white blossoms fell +down on him and on the path. + +"Let my tree alone," said his father, smiling. + +Käte saw it. Could Paul laugh? So he did not take it very seriously, +after all. But that did not provoke her as it would have done +some time ago, she felt as if everything in her were cold and dead. She +heard the two speak as though they were far, far away, their voices +sounded quite low, and still they were speaking loudly and also +animatedly. + +All the same the conversation was not altogether friendly. Even if +the man was not seriously angry with the lad, he still considered it +his duty to expostulate with him. He concluded by saying: "Such +immoderate drinking is disgusting!"--but he thought to himself: "It +cannot have been so bad as Käte makes out, or I should have seen some +signs of it." His brown cheeks were smooth and firm, so shiny and so +lately washed, his eyes, which were not large but noticeable on account +of their dark depths, were even more sparkling than usual. + +The man laid his hand on his son's shoulder: "So we must have no +more of that, Wolfgang, if we're to remain friends." + +The boy shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I really don't know what +crime I've committed, pater. The whole thing is something of a mystery +to me. But it shan't happen again, I promise you." + +And they shook hands. + +Now something really did stir in Käte. She would have liked to have +jumped up, to have cried: "Don't believe him, Paul, don't believe him. +He's sure to get drunk again. I don't trust him. I cannot trust him. If +you had seen him as I saw him--oh, he was so vulgar!" And as in a +vision a village tavern suddenly appeared before her eyes, a tavern she +had never seen. Rough men sat round the wooden table, leaning on their +elbows, smoking evil-smelling tobacco, drinking heavily, bawling wildly +... ah, had not his father sat among them? His grandfather too? All +those from whom he was descended? She was seized with a +terrible fear. It could never, never end well. + +"You are so pale, Käte," her husband said at the evening meal. "You +sat still too long; it is still too cold outside." + +"Aren't you well, mater?" inquired Wolfgang, politely anxious. + +Käte did not answer her son, she only looked at her husband and +shook her head: "I am quite well." + +That satisfied them. + +Wolfgang ate with a good appetite, with a specially big one even; he +was quite ravenous. There were also lots of good things of which he was +fond: hot fricassee of chicken with sweetbread, force-meat balls and +crawfish tails, and then some very good cold meat, butter and cheese +and young radishes. + +"Boy, don't drink so much," said Paul Schlieben, as Wolfgang seized +the decanter again. + +"I'm thirsty," said his son with a certain defiance, filling his +glass to the brim and drinking it in one gulp. + +"That comes of revelling." His father shook his finger at him, but +smiled at the same time. + +"It comes of swilling," thought Käte, and she shuddered with disgust +again. She had never used such an expression before even in her +thoughts, but now none seemed strong, blunt, contemptuous enough. + +There was no pleasant conversation in spite of the room being so +cosy, the appointments of the table so beautiful, the flowers so +prettily arranged in a cut-glass bowl on the white table-cloth, and +above it all a soft subdued light under a green silk shade. Käte was so +monosyllabic that Paul soon seized the newspaper, and the boy, after +trying to stifle his yawns, at last got up. It was really too awfully +slow to have to sit there. Should he drive into Berlin again +or go to bed? He did not quite know himself what to do. + +"You are going to bed now?" said his mother. It was intended for a +question, but Käte heard herself that it did not sound like one. + +"Of course he's going to bed now," said his father, looking up from +his paper for a moment. "He's tired. Good night, my lad." + +"I'm not tired." Wolfgang grew red and hot. What did they mean by +wanting to persuade him that he was tired? He was no longer a child to +be sent to bed. His mother's tone irritated him especially--"you are +going to bed now"--that was an order. + +The sparkle in his dark eyes became a blaze; the expression of +defiance and refractoriness on his face was not pleasant to see. They +could no doubt see in what a passion he was, but his father said "Good +night," and held out his hand to him without looking up from the +newspaper. + +His mother also said "Good night." + +And the son grasped first one hand and then the other--he imprinted +the usual kiss on his mother's hand--and said "Good night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Paul Schlieben was sitting in his private office, in the red armchair +he had had placed there for his comfort. But he was not leaning back in +it, he was sitting very uncomfortably, straight up, and he looked like +a man who has made a disagreeable discovery. How could the boy have +contracted debts--with such ample pocket-money? And then that he had +not the courage to come and say: "Father, I've spent too much, help +me," was simply incomprehensible. Was he such a severe father that his +son had reason to fear him? Did the fear drive out love? He reviewed +his own conduct; he really could not reproach himself for having been +too strict. If he had not always been so yielding as Käte--she was too +yielding--he had always thought he had repeatedly shown the boy that he +was fond of him. And had he not also--just lately--thought the boy was +fond of him too? More fond of him than before? Wolfgang had just grown +sensible, had seen that they had his welfare at heart, that he was his +parents' dear son, their ever-increasing delight, their hope--nay, now +that they had grown old, their whole future. How was it that he +preferred to go to others, to people with whom he had nothing to do, +and borrow from them instead of asking his father? + +The man took up a letter from his writing-desk with a +grieved look, read it through once more, although he had already read +it three or four times, and then laid it back again with a gesture of +vexation. In it Braumüller, who had lately retired from the firm and +was at present in Switzerland for his health and recreation, wrote that +the boy had already borrowed money from him several times. Not that he +would not gladly give him it, that did not matter to him in the +slightest, but still he considered it his duty--&c., &c. + +"The fact is, dear Schlieben, the boy has got into a fast set. I'm +awfully sorry to have to tell tales about him, but I cannot put it off +any longer, as he goes to others just as well as he comes to me. And it +would be extremely painful, of course, if the son of Messrs. Schlieben +& Co., to whom I still count myself as belonging with the old devotion, +should become common talk. Don't take it amiss, old friend. I make the +boy a present of all he owes me; I am fond of him and have also been +young. But I am quite pleased to have no children, it is a deucedly +difficult job to train one. Good-bye, remember me very kindly to your +wife, it is splendid here ..." + +The man stared over the top of the paper with a frown; this letter, +which had been written with such good intentions and was so kind, hurt +him. It hurt him that Wolfgang had so little confidence in him with +respect to this matter. Was he not straightforward? He remembered very +distinctly that he had always been truthful as a child, had been so +outspoken as to offend--he had been rude, but never given to lying. +Could he have changed so now? How was that, and why? + +The man resolved not to mention anything about the letter, but to +ask Wolfgang when he found an opportunity--but it must be as soon as +possible--in what condition his money matters were. Then he would +hear. + +He quite longed to ask the question, and still he did not +say a word when Wolfgang entered the private room soon afterwards +without knocking, as all the others did, and with all the careless +assurance of a son. He sat down astride on his father's writing-desk, +quite unmindful of the fact that his light trousers came into +unpleasant contact with the ink-stand. The air out of doors was clear +and the sun shone brightly; he brought a large quantity of both with +him into the room that was always kept dark, cool and secluded. + +"Had something to vex you, pater?" What fancies could the old +gentleman have got hold of now? Certainly nothing of importance. On the +whole, who could feel vexed in such delightful, pleasant summer +weather? + +Wolfgang loved the sun. As he had gazed admiringly at the small copy +of it when a child, the round yellow sunflower in his garden, so he +still delighted in it. If the perspiration stood in drops on his brown +skin, he would push his white panama hat a little further back from his +forehead, but he never drew his breath more freely, easily, and felt +less oppressed. + +"It was splendid, pater," he said, and his eyes gleamed. "First of +all I swam the whole width of the lake three times, there and back and +there and back and there and back again without stopping. What do you +say to that?" + +"Much too tiring, very thoughtless," remarked Paul Schlieben, not +without some anxiety. Indeed Hofmann was not at all anxious that the +boy should swim. + +"Thoughtless? Fatiguing? Ha ha!" Wolfgang thought it great fun. +"That's a mere trifle to me. I've really missed my vocation, you know. +You ought not to have put me into an office. I ought to have been a +swimmer, a rider or--well, a cowboy in the Wild West." + +He had said it in joke without meaning anything, but it seemed to +the man, who suddenly looked at him with eyes that had grown +suspicious, that something serious, an accusation, was concealed behind +the joke. What did he want then? Did he want to gallop through life +like an unrestrained boy? + +"Well, your sporting capacities will be of use to you when you are a +soldier," he said coolly. "At present what you have to do here is of +more importance. Have you drawn up the contract for delivery for White +Brothers? Show it to me." + +"Directly." + +Wolfgang disappeared; but it was some time before he returned. Had +he only done the work now, which he had been told was urgent and was to +be done carefully? The ink was still quite fresh, the writing was very +careless, even if legible; it was no business hand. Schlieben frowned; +he was strangely irritable to-day. At any other time he would have been +struck by the celerity with which the boy had finished the work he had +neglected; but to-day the careless writing, the inkspots in the margin, +the slipshod manner in which it had all been done, which seemed to him +to point to a want of interest, vexed him. + +"Hm!" He examined it once more critically. "When did you do +this?" + +"When you gave me it to do." The tone in which Wolfgang said this +was so unabashed that it was impossible to doubt it. + +The man felt quite ashamed of himself. How a seed of suspicion +grows! He had really wronged his son this time. But that question of +the money still remained, the boy had not been open and honest in that. +It seemed to the father that he could not quite rely on his son any +more now. + +It was hardly noon when Wolfgang left the office again. He had +arranged to meet a couple of acquaintances in the Imperial Café not far +from the Linden; he would have to have something to eat, and +whether he had his lunch there or somewhere else was of no consequence; +a sandwich, which was all his father took with him from home, was not +sufficient for him after swimming and riding. + +Then he showed himself again at the office for an hour in the +afternoon, but in his tennis clothes this time, in white shoes, a +racket in his hand. + +When Wolfgang left the West End tennis-ground that afternoon, hot +and red--the games had been long and obstinate--and went across to the +Zoological Gardens' Station, he hesitated as he stood at the entrance +to it. He did not feel as if he wanted to go home at all. Should he not +drive into town again instead? As a matter of fact he did not feel +tempted to go into the streets either, which the drifting crowds made +still closer; it was better in the suburbs, where there was at least a +breath of fresh air blowing over the villa--but then he would have to +sit with his parents. And if his father were in just as bad a humour as +he had been at the office that morning, it would be awful. Then it +would be better to find some friend or other in Berlin. If only he had +not had his tennis suit on. That hindered him. He was still standing +undecided when he suddenly saw in the crowd that now, when work was +over and free-time come, was winding its way through the entrance to +the station like a long worm and dividing itself into arms to go up the +steps to the right and left, a mass of fair hair gleaming under a white +sailor-hat trimmed with a blue velvet band and pressed down on a +forehead, which seemed well-known to him. It was beautiful fair silky +hair, smooth and shining; carelessly arranged in an enormous knot to +all appearances, but in reality with much care. And now he recognised +the blue eyes and the pert little nose under the straw hat. Frida +Lämke! Oh, what a long time since he had seen her. He suddenly +remembered the hundreds of times he had neglected them. How little he +had troubled himself about those good people. That was very wrong of +him. And all at once it seemed to him that he had missed them always, +the whole time. He reached her side with one bound like an impetuous +boy, not noticing that he trod on a dress here and that he gave +somebody a shove in the side there. + +"Frida!" + +She gave a little start. Who had accosted her so boldly? + +"How do, Frida. How are you?" + +She did not recognise him at first, but then she blushed and pouted. +What a gentleman Wolfgang had grown. And she answered a little pertly, +a little affectedly: "Very well, thanks, Mr. Wolfgang. Are you quite +well too?" and she threw her fair head back and laughed. + +He would not hear of her calling him "Mr. Wolfgang." "Nonsense, what +are you thinking of?" And he was so cordial, so quite the Wolfgang of +former years, that she was soon on the old terms with him again. She +dropped her affectation entirely. They walked beside each other as +intimately as if almost a year had not passed since last they had +talked together. + +"Young lovers," thought many a one who came across them strolling +along near the coppices in the Tiergarten. They had let their train +go--he had no wish to hurry home, at any rate--and so they walked +further and further in among the green trees, where it was already dark +and where even his light tennis suit and her light blouse could not be +distinguished any longer. The nightingales had grown silent long ago; +all that was heard was a girl's soft laugh now and then, which sounded +like the cooing of a dove, and the low whispers of invisible couples. +Whispers came from the benches that stood in the dark, summer dresses +rustled, burning cigars gleamed like glow-worms; all the seats +one came across were occupied. It was extremely close in the park. + +Wolfgang and Frida spoke of Frau Lämke. "She's always ill, she has +had to go to the doctor so often," said the girl, and her voice +trembled with sincere grief. Wolfgang was very sorry. + +When Frida came home that evening extremely late--the house had been +closed long before; Frau Lämke had already begun to get nervous, and +did not know how she should keep the roast potatoes warm--she threw her +arms round her mother's neck: "Mother, mummy, don't scold." And then it +came out with a rush, that she had met Wolfgang: "Wolfgang Schlieben, +you know. He was so nice, mother, you can't think how nice he was. Not +the slightest bit stuck-up. And he asked at once how you were, and when +I told him you had something the matter with your stomach and your +nerves, he was so sorry. And he said: 'You must get your mother out in +this beautiful weather,' and he gave me this bank-note--here, do you +see it, a green one. I did not want to take it on any account, what +would people think of it?--but he was so strong, he stuffed it into my +hand. I could have screamed, he pulled my fingers apart so--are you +angry, mother, that I took it? I didn't want to, I really didn't want +to. But he said, 'It's for your mother.' And 'Do be sensible, Frida.'" +Frida almost cried, she felt so touched and so grateful. + +Frau Lämke took it more calmly. "Perhaps I can go to Eberswald to +my brother, or even to my sister in the Riesengebirge. And I'll give up +the places where I clean for a few weeks, that will do me an enormous +amount of good. The good boy, that was nice of him, that he thought of +his old friend. Hm, he can do it too. What are fifty marks to people +like him?" + +When Wolfgang had taken Frida to her door he had strolled on slowly, +his racket under his arm, his hands in the pockets of his wide +trousers. A sky, richly spangled with stars, extended over his head, +innumerable golden eyes watching him with a kind twinkle. There were no +more wheels to be heard, no crowds of pedestrians whirled up the dust +of the street any longer. What the dust-carts, passing backwards and +forwards during the day, had not been able to do, the night-dew had +done. The loose sand had been settled, a cool freshness rose up out of +the earth, one could smell the trees and bushes; a fragrance of flowers +ascended from the beds in the gardens that the darkness had swallowed +up. Wolfgang drew a deep breath of delight and whistled softly; his +heart was full of peace and joy; now it was a good thing he was not +wandering about in Berlin. It had been so nice with Frida. What a lot +they had had to talk about--and then--he was really awfully pleased to +be able to help Frau Lämke a little. + +He came home thoroughly happy. + +"The master and mistress have had their supper long ago," Friedrich +took the liberty of remarking with a certain reproach--the young +gentleman was really too unpunctual. + +"Well, can't be helped," said Wolfgang. "Tell the cook she's to +prepare me something quickly, a cutlet or some beefsteak, or--what else +was there for supper this evening? I'm ravenous." + +Friedrich looked at him quite taken aback. Now! at half past ten? +The master or the mistress had never thought of asking for such a +thing--a warm supper at half past ten? He stood hesitating. + +"Well, am I soon going to get something?" the young gentleman called +to him over his shoulder, and went into the dining-room. + +His parents were still sitting at the table--both were reading--but +the table was empty. + +"Good evening," said the boy, "is the table cleared already?" You +could plainly hear the surprise in his voice. + +"So there you are!" His father nodded to him but did not look up; he +seemed to be quite taken up with his reading. And his mother said: "Are +you going to sit with us a little?" + +All at once the lad shivered. It had been so nice and warm outside, +here it was cool. + +And then everything was quiet for a while, until Friedrich came in +with a tray on which there was only a little cold meat, bread, butter +and cheese beside the knife and fork. It struck Wolfgang how loudly he +rattled the things; the housemaid generally waited. "Where's +Marie?" + +"In bed," said his mother curtly. + +"Already?" Wolfgang wondered why to himself. Hark, the clock in his +mother's room was just striking--eleven? Was it actually already eleven +o'clock? They would really have to be quick and get him something to +eat, he was dying for want of food. He fixed his eyes on the door +through which Friedrich had disappeared. Was something soon coming? + +He waited. + +"Eat something." His mother pushed the dish with cold meat nearer to +him. + +"Why don't you eat?" asked his father suddenly. + +"Oh, I am still waiting." + +"There's nothing more," said his mother, and her face, which looked +so extremely weary like the face of one who has waited long in vain, +flushed slightly. + +"Nothing else?--nothing more?--why?" The boy looked exceedingly +disappointed. He glanced from his mother to the table, then to +the sideboard and then round the room as though searching for +something. + +"Haven't you had anything else to eat?" + +"Yes, we have had something else--but if you don't come--" His +father knit his brows, and then he looked straight at his son for the +first time that evening, surveying him with a grave glance. "You can't +possibly expect to find a warm supper, when you come home so +unpunctually." + +"But you--you are not obliged to"--the young man swallowed the +rest--he would have much preferred it had his parents not sat there +waiting for him; the servants would have done what was expected of +them. + +"Perhaps you think the servants don't require their night's rest?" +said his father, as though he had guessed his thought. "The maids, who +have been in the kitchen the whole day, want to have done in the +evening as well as other people. So you must come earlier if you want +to have supper with us. Moreover, I don't suppose it will harm a young +fellow to get nothing but a piece of bread and butter for his supper +for once in a way. Besides, you who--" he was going to say "you who get +such a good dinner"--but the young man's face, which expressed such +immeasurable astonishment, irritated him, and he said in a loud and, +contrary to his custom, angry voice, angrier than he had intended: +"You--are you entitled to make such claims? How can you think of doing +so, you especially?" A movement made by his wife, the rustling of her +dress, reminded him of her presence, and he continued more temperately, +but with a certain angry scorn: "Perhaps you do too much? Two hours at +the office in the morning--hardly that--an hour in the afternoon--yes, +that's an astonishing, an enormous amount of work, which must +tax your powers greatly. Indeed, it requires quite special food. Well, +what, what?" + +Wolfgang had been going to say something, but his father did not +allow him to speak: "Let me see a more modest look on your face first, +and then you may speak. Lad, I tell you, if you apply to Braumüller for +money any more----!" + +There, there, it was out. In his wrath he had forgotten the +diplomatic questions he had intended asking, and all he had meant to +find out by listening to his replies. The man felt quite a relief now +he could say: "It's an unheard-of thing! It's a disgrace for you--and +for me!" The excited voice had calmed down, the last words were almost +choked by a sigh. The man rested his arm on the table and his head in +his hand; one could see that he took it much to heart. + +Käte sat silent and pale. Her eyes were distended with horror--so he +had done that, that, borrowed money? That too? Not only that he got +drunk, dead drunk but that, that too? It could not be possible--no! Her +eyes sought Wolfgang's face imploringly. He must deny it. + +"Why, really, pater," said Wolfgang, trying to smile, "I don't know +what's the matter with you. I asked your partner to do me a little +favour--besides, he offered to do it himself, he has always been most +friendly to me. I was just going to send it back to him"--he glanced +sideways at his father: did he know how much it was?--"I'll send it to +him to-morrow." + +"Oh, to-morrow." There was suspicion in the man's tone, but a +certain relief nevertheless; he was so anxious to think the best of his +son. "What other debts have you?" he asked. And then he was suddenly +seized with the fear that the lad was deceiving him, and, terrified at +the great responsibility he had taken on himself, he said in a +voice that was harder than he really intended, much harder than was +compatible with his feelings: "I would punish you as a good-for-nothing +fellow if I heard you had! I would cast you off--then you could see how +you got on. Disgraceful debts! To be in debt!" + +Käte gazed at her husband the whole time. She had never seen him +like that before. She wanted to call out, to interrupt him: "You are +too strict, much too strict. You'll prevent him confessing anything if +you speak like that"--but she could not say a word. She was mute under +the burden of the fears that overwhelmed her. Her eyes, full of a +terrible anxiety, hung on the young face that had grown pale. + +Wolfgang's lips quivered; his thoughts were active. He wanted to +speak, had already opened his mouth to do so, to confess that he had +spent more than he had had. If only his father were not always so +extremely proper. Good gracious, you cannot help pulling handfuls of +money out of your pockets if you have got it to spend! But he did not +say anything to these--these two about it. They were good people on the +whole, but they could not put themselves into his place. Good people? +No, they were not. + +And now came his indignation. What possessed his father to treat him +in that manner, to scold him in that tone of voice? Like a criminal. +And she, why did she stare at him in that way with eyes in which he +thought he read something that looked like contempt? Well, then, he +would horrify them still more, hurl into their faces: "Of course I have +debts, what does that matter?" But in the midst of his anger came the +cool calculation: what had his father said: "I would cast you off"? + +All at once Wolfgang got a great fright. He had need of +these people, he could not do without them. And so he pulled himself +together quickly: he must not confess anything, by any means, he must +be sure not to betray himself. And he said, in a quick transition from +defiant passion to smooth calmness: "I don't know why you excite +yourself so, pater. I have none." + +"Really none?" His father looked at him gravely and inquiringly, but +a glad hope shone already through the gravity. + +And when his son answered "No," he stretched out his hand to him +across the table: "I'm pleased to hear it." + +They were very nice to him that evening. Wolfgang felt it with much +satisfaction. Well, they owed him an apology, too. He allowed them to +make much of him. + +The father felt glad, quite relieved that nothing else, nothing +worse had come to light, and the mother had the feeling for the first +time for many weeks that it was possible to love the lad again. Her +voice had something of the old sound once more when she spoke to him. +And she spoke a good deal to him, she felt the need to do so. She had +not spoken so much to him during all those weeks. She felt as if a +spring within her had been bricked up and had to discharge itself now. +He had contracted no debts. Thank God, he was not quite so bad then! +Now she was sorry she had sent the maids to bed, because she had been +annoyed with him for coming home so late--for his loafing about, as she +had called it in her thoughts--and had no proper supper for him. If she +had not been afraid of her husband, she would have gone down into the +kitchen and tried to prepare something better for him herself. + +"Have you really had enough?" she said to him in a low voice. + +"Oh, it'll do." He felt his superiority. + +Paul Schlieben put his paper aside that evening. When his son asked +him politely if he would not read, he shook his head: "No, I've read +the whole evening." He, too, felt the need of, nay, felt it his duty to +have, a friendly talk to his son, even if he found that Käte was going +too far, as usual. She really need not make such a fuss of the boy, he +had done wrong hi any case; the Braumüller matter must not be +forgotten, he ought to have come openly--but really, after all, it was +only a stupidity, a thing that might happen ninety times out of every +hundred. + +The man resolved to raise his monthly allowance by 100 marks, when +he paid him on the first of the month. Then he would certainly have +ample, and there could be no more talk of not being able to make both +ends meet and of secrecy. + +It was already far past midnight when the parents and son at last +parted. Käte stretched herself in her bed with a feeling of happiness +she had not known for a long time: she would soon fall asleep; she +would not have to lie so long waiting for sleep to come to her, she +felt so relieved, so reassured, so soothed. Things were working better +now, everything would still be right at last. And she whispered softly +to her husband: "Paul!" He did not hear her, he was already half +asleep. Then she whispered more urgently: "Paul, Paul!" And when he +moved she said softly: "Paul, are you angry with me?" + +"Angry? Why should I be?" + +"Oh, I only thought you might be." She did not want to give any +explanation, besides it was hardly necessary, for she had the +impression that he, too, felt that they themselves would be on better, +pleasanter, more cordial and more united terms with each other +in the future. Oh yes, if they were on better terms with him--the +boy--then he and she would also be on better terms with each other. + +The elderly woman was seized with a great longing for the days when +they loved each other. She felt ashamed of herself, but she could not +help it, she stretched out her hand to the bed that stood next to hers: +"Give me your hand, Paul." + +And as she groped about in the dark, she found his hand that was +searching for hers. They clasped hands. + +"Good night, dear husband." + +"Good night, dear wife." + +They fell asleep thus. + +Wolfgang stood at the window of his room, looking out into the +obscurity that hid all the stars and listening to the roar of the +distant wind. Was the night so sultry, or was it only he who was so +unbearably hot? A thunder-storm seemed to be coming on. Or was it only +an inward restlessness that weighed him down? What was it that tortured +him? + +He thought he had hardly ever felt so uncomfortable before. He was +vexed with his father, vexed with his mother--if they had been +different from what they were, if everything had been different from +what it was, he would not have been obliged to tell lies, to dissemble. +He was vexed with himself. Oh, then he would have felt easier now, much +freer. He knit his brows angrily; a sudden longing for something he +could not name made him tremble. What did he want, what was he longing +for? If he only knew! + +He gave a loud sigh, and stretched his arms with the strong hands +out into the night. Everything was so narrow, so narrow. If he only +were the boy again who had once climbed out of this window, yes, this +window--he leant out and measured the height--who had run +away, hurrah! without asking himself where he was going, simply on and +on. That had been magnificent! A splendid run! + +And he leant further and further out of the window. The night wind +was whispering, it was like an alluring melody. He trembled with +eagerness. He could not tear himself away, he had to remain there +listening. The wind was rising, there was a rustling in the trees, it +rose and rose, grew and grew. The rustling turned into a +blustering. + +He forgot he was in a room in a house, and that he had parents there +who wanted to sleep. He gave a shout, a loud cry, half of triumph. How +beautiful it was out there, ah! + +A storm. The snorting wind, that had risen so suddenly, blew his +hair about and ruffled it at the temples. Ah, how beautifully that +cooled. It was unbearable in the house, so gloomy, so close. He felt so +scared, so terrified. How his heart thumped. And he felt so out of +temper: how unpleasant it had been that evening again. His father had +said he ought to have confessed it to him--of course, it would have +been better--but if he threatened him in that way after the thing was +over in a manner, what would he have said before? This everlasting +keeping him in leading strings was not to be borne. Was he still a +child? Was he a grown-up man or was he not? Was he the son of rich +parents or was he not? No, he was not. That was just what he was +not. + +The thunder rumbled afar in the dark night. Suddenly there was a +brilliant flash--that was just what he was not, not the son, not the +son of this house. Otherwise everything would have been different. He +did not know in what way--but different, oh, quite different. + +Wolfgang had not thought of these things for a long +time--the days were so full of distractions but now in this dark stormy +night, in which he would not be able to sleep, he had to think. What he +had always driven back because it was not pleasant, what he thought he +had quite forgotten--perhaps because he wished to forget it--he would +have to consider now. What had been repressed for so long broke out +forcibly now, like the stormy wind that suddenly came rushing along, +bending the tops of the pines so that they cowered with terror. +Wolfgang would have liked to have made his voice heard above the roar +of the storm. + +He was furious, quite absurdly furious, quite thoughtlessly furious. +Oh, how it lightened, crashed, rumbled, roared and snorted. What a +conflict--but it was beautiful nevertheless. He raised himself up on +his toes and exposed his hammering breast to the strong wind. He had +hardly ever felt such delight as when those gusts of wind struck his +chest like blows from a fist. He flung himself against them, he +regularly caught them on his broad chest. + +And still there was torture mingled with the delight. Face to face +with this great storm, that became an event in his life as it were, +everything else seemed so pitifully small to him, and he too. There he +stood now in coat and trousers, his hands in his pockets, rattling his +loose money; he was annoyed because he had let them lecture him, and +still he had not the courage to throw everything aside and do exactly +as he liked. + +The lad followed the yellow and blue flashes of lightning that clove +the dark stormy sky in zigzag, and poured a dazzling magic light over +the world, with sparkling eyes. Oh, to be able to rush along like that +flash of lightning. It rushed out of the clouds down to the earth, tore +her lap open and buried itself in it. + +His young blood, whose unused vitality quivered in his +clenched fists, his energy, which had not been spent on any work, +groaned aloud. All at once Wolfgang cursed his life. Oh, he ought to be +somewhere quite different, live at quite a different place, quite +different. + +And even if he were not so comfortable there, let him only get away +from this place, away. It bored him so terribly to be here. He loathed +it. He drew a deep breath, oh, if only he had some work he would like +to do! That would tire him out, so that he had no other desire but to +eat and then sleep. Better to be a day labourer than one who sits +perched on a stool in an office and sees figures, nothing but figures +and accounts and ledgers and cash-books--oh, only not let him be a +merchant, no, that was the very worst of all. + +Hitherto Wolfgang had never been conscious of the fact that he would +never be any good as a merchant; now he knew it. No, he did not like +it, he could not go on being a merchant. Everyone must surely become +what nature has meant him to be. + +He would say it in the morning--no, he would not go to the office +any more, he would not do it any longer. He would be free. He leant out +of the window once more, and scented the damp, pleasant smell that rose +up out of the soaked earth with distended nostrils, panting greedily +like a thirsty stag. + +The rain had come after the thunder and lightning, and had saturated +the thirsty earth and penetrated into it, filling all its pores with +fertility. It rained and rained uninterruptedly, came down in torrents +as if it would never end. + +Something gave way in Wolfgang's soul; it became soft. + +"Mother," he whispered dreamily, stretching out his hot hands so +that the cool rain bathed them. Then he stretched his head far out too, +closed his eyes and raised his head, so that the falling drops +refreshed his burning lids and the wide-open, thirsty lips +drank the tears of heaven as though they were costly wine. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +But in the morning, when the sand in the Grunewald had swallowed up +all the rain, and nothing was left of the storm that had cleared the +air during the night but the somewhat fresher green of the lawns, a +stronger smell of the pines and many fallen acorns and chestnuts on the +promenade, Wolfgang thought differently again. The day was beautiful; +he could swim, ride, go to the office for a short time, eat, drink, +play tennis, make an appointment for the evening--there were so many +places where you could amuse yourself--and why should he spoil this +splendid day for himself and, after all, his father too? He thrust +every graver thought aside as burdensome. But his soul was not at peace +all the same. He tried to deaden thought. + +Käte did not fall asleep so quickly as on the previous night; even +if she had promised herself not to sit up and wait for him any more, +she could not sleep if he were not at home. She heard the clocks strike +terribly loudly, as she had done on a former occasion; every noise, +even the slightest, penetrated to her ear through the stillness of the +house, sounding much louder. She would hear him, she must hear him as +soon as he stuck the key into the front door. + +But she heard nothing, although she lay long awake listening. The +hours crept on, the day dawned, a pale streak of light no broader than +her thumb stole through the closed shutters; she saw it on the wall +opposite to her bed. The light became gradually less and less wan, more +decided in colour, a warm, sunny, ruddy gold. No cock proclaimed the +new day with triumphant crow, the house was so quiet, the garden so +silent, but the light betrayed that it was morning. + +She must have slept, however, without knowing it. What, was it +already morning? She was sure now that he must have been at home a long +time, she had simply not heard him come in. That calmed her. But she +dressed hurriedly, without paying as much attention to her dress as +usual, and she could not resist standing outside his door to listen +before going down to breakfast. He was not up yet--of course not, he +had come home so late--he was still asleep. She would be able to look +at him without his knowing. She went in, but he was not asleep. + +The woman looked at the bed with bewildered eyes--there it was, +open, invitingly white and comfortable, but he was not in it. The bed +had not been touched. The room was empty. + +Then her heart grew cold with dread. So she had not slept, his +return had not escaped her. On that former occasion he had come +home--true, he was drunk, but still he had come home--but not this +time! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +"Wolfgang not here again?" said Paul Schlieben as he joined his wife in +her room. "He comes so little to the office too. They always assure me +that he has just been--but why doesn't he keep the same office-hours as +I? Where is he?" He looked inquiringly and impatiently at his wife. + +She shrugged her shoulders, and the evening sun, which was casting a +last gleam through the tall window as it set, touched her cheek with +red for a moment. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. And then she +looked so lost as she gazed out into the autumn evening, that her +husband felt that her thoughts were far away, looking for something +outside. + +"I've just come from town, Käte," he said somewhat annoyed, and the +vexation he felt at his son's absence gave his voice a certain +sharpness, "and I'm hungry and tired. It's already eight o'clock--we'll +have our supper. And you've not even a friendly face to show me?" + +She got up quickly to ring for supper, and tried to smile. But it +was no real smile. + +He saw it, and that put him still more out of humour. "Never mind, +don't try. Don't force yourself to smile." He sat down at the table +with a weary movement. But his hunger did not seem to be so great, +after all, as he only helped himself in a spiritless manner +when the steaming dishes were brought in and placed in front of him, +and ate in the same manner without knowing what he was eating. + +The dining-room was much too large for the two lonely people; the +handsome room looked uncomfortably empty on that cool evening in +autumn. The woman shivered with cold. + +"We shall have to start heating the house," said the man. + +That was all that was said during the meal. After it was over he got +up to go across to his study. He wanted to smoke there, the room was +smaller and cosier; he did not notice that his wife's eyes had never +left him. + +If Paul would only tell her what he thought of Wolfgang staying +away! Where could Wolfgang be now? She became entirely absorbed in her +wandering thoughts, and hardly noticed that she was alone in the cold +empty room. + +She had a book in front of her, a book the whole world found +interesting--an acquaintance had said to her: "I could not stop reading +it; I had so much to think about, but I forgot everything owing to the +book"--but it did not make her forget anything. She felt as though she +were in great trouble, and that that was making her dull. Even duller, +more indifferent to outward things than at the time of her father's and +mother's deaths. She had read so much in those years of mourning, and +with special interest, as though the old poems had been given to her +anew and the new ones were a cheering revelation. She could not read +anything now, could not follow another's thoughts. She clung to her own +thoughts. True, her eyes flew over the page, but when she got to the +bottom she did not know what she had read. It was an intolerable +condition. Oh, owh much she would have liked to have taken an +interest in something. What would she not have given only to be able to +laugh heartily for once; she had never experienced a similar longing +for cheerfulness, gaiety and humour before. Oh, what a relief it would +have been for her if she could have laughed and cried. Now she could +not laugh, but--alas!--not cry either, and that was the worst: her eyes +remained dry. But the tears of sorrow she had not wept burnt her heart +and wore out her life with their unshed salty moisture. + +No, death was not the most terrible that could happen. There were +more terrible things than that. It was terrible when one had to say to +oneself: "You have brought all your suffering on yourself. Why were +you not satisfied? Why must you take by force what nature had refused?" +It was more terrible when one felt how one's domestic happiness, one's +married happiness, love, faith, unity, how all that intimately unites +two people was beginning to totter--for did she not feel every day how +her husband was getting colder and colder, and that she also treated +him with more indifference? Oh, the son, that third person, it was he +who parted them. How miserably all her theories about training, +influence, about being born in the spirit had been overthrown. Wolfgang +was not the child in which she and her husband were united in body and +soul--he was and would remain of alien blood. And he had an alien soul. +Poor son! + +All at once a discerning compassion shot up in the heart of the +woman, who for days, weeks, months, even years, had felt nothing but +bitterness and mortification, ay, many a time even something like +revolt against the one who thus disturbed her days. How could she be so +very angry with him, who was not bound to his parents' house by a +hundred ties? It was not _his_ parents' house, that was just +the point. Maybe he unconsciously felt that the soil there was not his +native soil--and now he was seeking, wandering. + +Käte pondered, her head resting heavily in her hand: what was she to +do first? Should she confess to him where he came from? Tell him +everything? Perhaps things would be better then. But oh, it was so +difficult. But it must be done. She must not remain silent any longer. +She felt her trembling heart grow stronger, as she made the firm +resolve to speak to him when he returned home. What she had kept as the +greatest secret, what she had guarded with trembling, what nothing +could have torn from her, as she thought, she was now prepared to +reveal of her own free will. She must do so. Otherwise how could things +ever be better? How could they ever end happily, or ever end at +all? + +Her eyes wandered about seeking something fervently; there was a +terrified expression in them. But there was no other way out. Käte +Schlieben prepared herself for the confession with a resoluteness that +she would not have been capable of a year ago. For one moment the wish +came to her to call Paul to help her. But she rejected the thought +quickly--had he ever loved Wolfgang as she had done? Perhaps it would +be a matter of no moment to him--no, perhaps it would be a triumph to +him, he had always been of a different opinion to her. And then another +thing. He might perhaps forestall her, tell Wolfgang himself, and he +must not do that. She, she alone must do that, with all the love of +which she was still capable, so that it might be told him in a +forbearing, merciful and tender manner. + +She ran hastily across to her sitting-room. She kept the certificate +of his baptism and the deed of surrender they had got from his native +village in her writing-desk there; she had not even trusted +the papers to her husband. Now she brought them out and put them ready. +She would have to show him that everything was as she said. + +The papers rustled in her trembling hands, but she repressed her +agitation. She must be calm, quite calm and sensible; she must throw +down the castle in the air she had built for herself and that had not +turned out as in her dreams, knowing fully what she was doing. But even +if this castle in the air collapsed, could not something be saved from +the ruins? Something good rise from them? He would be grateful to her, +he must be grateful to her. And that was the good that would rise. + +She folded her hands over the common paper on which the evidence was +written, and quivering sighs escaped from her breast that were like +prayers. O God, help me! O God, help me! + +But if he did not understand her property, if she did not find the +words that must be found? If she should lose him thereby? She was +overcome with terror, she turned pale, and stretched out her hands +gropingly like one who requires a support. But she remained erect. Then +rather lose him than that he should be lost. + +For--and tears such as she had not been able to weep for a long, +long time, dropped from her eyes and relieved her--she still loved him, +after all, loved him more than she had considered possible. + +So she waited for him. And even if she had to wait until dawn and if +he came home drunk again--more drunk than the first time--she would +still wait for him. She must tell him that day. She was burning to tell +him. + +Paul Schlieben had gone to bed long ago. He was vexed with his wife, +had only stuck his head into the room and given a little nod: "Good +night," and gone upstairs. But she walked up and down the room +downstairs with slow steps. That tired her physically, but gave her +mind rest and thereby strength. + +When she went to meet Wolfgang in the hall on hearing him close the +door, her delicate figure looked as though it had grown, it was so +straight and erect. The house slept with all in it, only he and she +were still awake. They were never so alone, so undisturbed nowadays. +The time had come. + +And she held out her hand to him, which she would not have done +on any other occasion had he come so late--thank God, he was not +drunk!--and approached her face to his and kissed him on the cheek: +"Good evening, my son." + +He was no doubt somewhat taken aback at this reception, but his +sunken eyes with the black lines under them looked past her +indifferently. + +He was terribly tired--one could see--or was he ill? But all that +would soon be better now. Käte seized hold of his hand once more full +of the joyful hope that had been awakened in her, and drew him after +her into her room. + +He allowed himself to be drawn without resisting, he only asked with +a yawn: "What's the matter?" + +"I must tell you something." And then quickly, as though he +might escape her or she might lose courage, she added: "Something +important--that concerns you your that concerns your--your birth." + +What would he say--she had stopped involuntarily--what would he say +now? The secret of his birth for which he had fought full of longing, +fought strenuously--oh, what scenes those had been!--would now be +revealed to him. + +She leant towards him involuntarily, ready to support him. + +Then he yawned again: "Must it really be now, mater? There's plenty +of time to-morrow. The fact is, I am dead beat. Good night." And he +wheeled round, leaving her where she was, and went out of the room and +up the stairs to his bedroom. + +She stood there quite rigid. Then she put her hand up to her head: +what, what was it? She must not have understood him properly, she must +be deaf, blind or beside herself. Or he must be deaf, blind or beside +himself. She had gone up to him with her heart in her mouth, she had +held out her hand, she had wanted to speak to him about his birth--and +he? He had yawned--had gone away, it evidently did not interest him in +the slightest. And here, here, in this very room--it was not yet four +years ago--he had stood almost on the same spot in the black clothes he +had worn at his confirmation--almost as tall as he was now, only with a +rounder, more childish face--and had screamed aloud: "Mother, mother, +where is my mother?" And now he no longer wanted to know anything? + +It was impossible, she could not have understood him aright or he +not her. She must follow him, at once, without delay. It seemed to her +that she must not neglect a moment. + +She hurried noiselessly up the stairs in her grey dress. She saw her +shadow gliding along in the dull light the electric bulb cast on the +staircase-wall, but she smiled: no, she was not sorrow personified +gliding along like a ghost any longer. Her heart was filled with +nothing but joy, hope and confidence, for she was bringing him +something good, nothing but good. + +She went into his room without knocking, in great haste and without +reflecting on what she was doing. He was already in bed, he was just +going to put out the light. She sat down on the edge of his bed. + +"Wolfgang," she said gently. And as he gazed at her in surprise with +a look that was almost unfriendly, her voice sounded still softer: "My +son." + +"Yes--what's the matter now?" + +He was really annoyed, she noticed it in the impatient tone of his +voice, and then she suddenly lost courage. Oh, if he looked at her like +that, so coldly, and if his voice sounded so repellent, how difficult +it was to find the right word. But it must be done, he looked so pale +and was so thin, his round face had positively become long. What had +struck her before struck her with double force now, and she got a great +fright. "Wolfgang," she said hastily, avoiding his glance almost with +fear--oh, how he would accuse her, how reproachful he would be, and +justifiably reproachful--"I must tell you at last--it's better--it +won't surprise you much either. Do you still remember that Sunday it +was the day of your confirmation--you--you asked us then----" + +Oh, what along introduction it was. She called herself a coward; but +it was so difficult, so unspeakably difficult. + +He did not interrupt her with a single sound, he asked no questions, +he did not sigh, he did not even move. + +She did not venture to turn her eyes, which were fixed on one point +straight in front of her, to look at him. His silence was terrible, +more terrible than his passion. And she called out with the courage of +despair: "You are not our son, not our own son." + +He still did not say anything; did not make a single sound, did not +move. Then she turned her eyes on him. And she saw how the lids fell +over his tired, already glassy eyes, how he tore them open again with +difficulty and how they closed once more, in short, how he fought with +sleep. + +He could sleep whilst she told him this--this? A terrible feeling of +disillusion came over her, but still she seized hold of his +arm and shook him, whilst her own limbs trembled as though with fever: +"Don't you hear--don't you hear me? You are not our son--not our own +son." + +"Yes, I know," he said in a weary voice. "Leave me, leave me." He +made a gesture as if to thrust her away. + +"And it--" her complete want of comprehension made her stammer like +a child--"it does not affect you? It--it leaves you so cold?" + +"Cold? Cold?" He shrugged his shoulders, and his tired, dull eyes +began to gleam a little. "Cold? Who says it leaves me cold--has left me +cold?" he amended hastily. "But you two have not asked about that. Now +_I_ won't hear anything more about it. I'm tired now. I want to sleep." +He turned his back on her, turned his face to the wall and did not move +any more. + +There she stood--he was already asleep, or at least seemed to be so. +She waited anxiously a few minutes longer--would he, would he not have +to turn once more to her and say: "Tell me, I'm listening now." But he +did not turn. + +Then she crept out of the room like a condemned criminal. Too late, +too late. She had spoken too late, and now he did not want to hear +anything more about it, nothing more whatever. + +In her dull wretchedness the words "too late" hurt her soul as if +they had been branded on it. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Käte had no longer the courage to revert again to what she had +wanted to confess to Wolfgang that night. Besides, what was the good? +She had the vivid feeling that there was no getting at him any more, +that he could not be helped any more. But she felt weighed down as +though she had committed a terrible crime. And the feeling of this +great crime made her gentler towards him than she would +otherwise have been; she felt called upon to make excuses for his +actions both to herself and her husband. + +Paul Schlieben was very dissatisfied with Wolfgang. "If only I +knew where he's always wandering about. I suppose he's at home at +night--eh?" + +An involuntary sound from his wife had interrupted him, now he +looked at her inquiringly. But she did not change countenance in the +slightest, she only gave an affirmative nod. So the husband relied upon +his wife. + +And now the last days of autumn had come, which are often so warm +and beautiful, more beautiful than summer. Everybody streamed out into +the Grunewald, to bathe themselves once more in the sun and air ere +winter set in. The people came in crowds to Hundekehle and Paulsborn, +to Uncle Tom and the Old Fisherman's Hut as though it were Sunday every +day. There was laughter everywhere, often music too, and young girls in +light dresses, in last summer's dresses that were not yet quite worn +out. Children made less noise in the woods now than in summer; it grew +dark too early now, but there were all the more couples wandering +about, whom the early but still warm dusk gave an excellent opportunity +to exchange caresses, and old people, who wanted to enjoy the sun once +more ere the night perhaps came that is followed by no morning. + +Formerly Paul Schlieben had always detested leaving his house and +garden on such days, when the Grunewald was overrun with people. He had +always disliked swallowing the dust the crowd raised. But now he was +broader-minded. Why should the people, who were shut up in cramped +rooms on all the other days, not be out there too for once in a way, +and inhale the smell of the pines for some hours, at any rate, which +they, the privileged ones, enjoyed every day. It did one good +to see how happy people could be. + +He ordered a carriage, a comfortable landau, both to give himself a +pleasure and also to distract his wife, who seemed to him to be graver +and more lost in thought than ever, and went for a drive with her. They +drove along the well-known roads through the Grunewald, and also got +out now and then when the carriage forced its way more slowly through +the sand, and walked beside it for a bit along the foot-path, which the +fallen pine-needles had made smooth and firm. + +They came to Schildhorn. The red glow of evening lay across the +water; the sun could no longer be seen in all its splendour, a dusky, +melancholy peace lay over the Havel and the pines. Käte had never +thought the wood was so large. All at once she shivered: ah, the +cemetery where they buried the suicides lay over there. She did +not like to look in that direction, she pressed her eyes together +nervously. All at once a young lad moved across her mental +vision--young and fresh and yet ruined already--many a mother's son. + +She shuddered and wanted to hurry past, and still something drew her +feet irresistibly to the spot in the loose sand that had been enclosed. +She could not help it, she had to stop. Her eyes rested thoughtfully on +the ugly, uncared-for graves: had those who rested there found peace? A +couple of branches covered with leaves and a few flowers that she had +plucked on the way fell out of her hand. The evening wind blew them on +to the nearest grave; she let them lie there. Her heart felt extremely +sad. + +"Käte, do come," Paul called. "The carriage has been waiting for us +quite a long time." + +She felt very depressed. Fears and suspicions, that she could +not speak of to anybody, crowded upon her. Wolfgang was +unsteady--but was he bad? No, not bad--not yet. O God, no, she would +not think that! Not bad! But what would happen? How would it end? +Things could never be right again--how could they? A miracle would have +to happen then, and miracles do not happen nowadays. + +A gay laugh made her start. All the tables were occupied in the +restaurant garden; there were so many young people there and so much +light-heartedness, and so many lovers. They had got into their carriage +again and were now driving slowly past the garden, so they saw all the +light-coloured blouses and the gaily trimmed hats, all the finery of +the lower middle-class. + +Hark, there was that gay laugh again. A girl's loud laugh, a real +hearty one, and now: "Aha, catch her, catch her!" on hearing which Käte +held her breath as though frozen. She felt quite weak, all the blood +left her heart. That was Wolfgang! Her Wolfgang! + +Then he bounded after a girl who, with a cry of delight, flew across +the road in front of him and into the wood on the other side among the +tree-trunks. He rushed after her. For a moment the girl's light dress +and Wolfgang's flying shadow were seen whisking round the pines, and +then nothing more. But he must have reached her, for her shrill scream +and his laugh were heard; both drove the blood into Käte's cheeks. It +sounded so offensive to her, so vulgar. So he had got so far? He +wandered about there with such, such--persons? Ah, a couple of others +were following them, they belonged to the party, too. A hulking fellow +with a very hot and red face and chubby cheeks followed the couple that +had disappeared noisily shouting hallo, and the slender rascal who came +last laughed so knowingly and slyly. + +"Paul, Paul!" Käte wanted to call out, "Paul, just look, look!" But +then she did not call, and did not move. There was nothing +more to be done. She leant back in her corner of the carriage quite +silent: she had wanted the boy, she must not complain. Oh, if only she +had left him where he was. Now she must be silent, close both her eyes +firmly and pretend she had not seen anything. + +But everything was spoilt for her. And when her husband pointed out +the moon swimming in the light grey ether in an opening between the +tops of two pines, and the bright, quietly gleaming star to the right +of it, she had only an indifferent "Oh yes," in answer to his +delighted: "Isn't that beautiful?" + +That depressed him. She had taken such pleasure in nature formerly, +the greatest, purest pleasure--now she no longer did so. Was that over +too? Everything was over. He sighed. + +And both remained silent, each leaning in a corner of the carriage. +They gazed into the twilight that was growing deeper and deeper with +sad eyes. Evening was coming on, the day--their day too--was over. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Wolfgang had gone on an excursion into the country, with Frida +Lämke, her brother, and Hans Flebbe, which had been planned a long +time. Frida was not going back to business that afternoon; she had +succeeded in getting away as an exception, and because she pleaded an +extremely urgent reason for her absence. And now she was almost beside +herself with glee: oh, how splendid it was, oh, what a fine time they +would have. Wolfgang had gone to the expense of taking a cab; he and +Frida sat on the front seat, the two others opposite them on the back +seat, and they had driven round the green, green wood, had paid a visit +to this and that place of amusement, had gone on a roundabout and in +a boat and into the booth where they were playing with dice. Wolfgang +was very polite, Frida always got leave to throw them again and +again; a butter dish of blue glass, a glazed paper-bag full of +gingerbread nuts, but above all a little dicky-bird in a tiny wooden +cage made her extremely happy. Hans was allowed to carry it all, whilst +she and Wolfgang rushed along on the walk home from Schildhorn, +chaffing each other. Her sweetheart did not disturb them. Hans had +foregone the pleasure of having his Frida on his arm from the +commencement; everybody might easily have thought the well-dressed +young gentleman was her lover. But when she lost her breath entirely +and was red and dishevelled, and the dusk, which came on somewhat +earlier in the wood among the trees that stood so close together, made +her shudder a little and filled her with a delicious fear, she hung on +her Hans's arm as a matter of course. They remained a little behind the +others. + +Then Wolfgang was alone, for he did not count Artur, although he +walked beside him stumbling over the roots and whistling shrilly. And +Wolfgang envied fat Hans at whom they had all laughed so much, the girl +he was engaged to more than anyone else. He also wanted to have a girl +hanging on his arm. It need not even be such a nice-looking girl as +Frida--as long as it was a girl. The dusk of the wood, which was so +nice and quiet, seemed positively to hold out inviting arms to him. And +a smell of satiation, an abundant fulfilment, rose out of the earth +that evening, although it was so poor--nothing but sand. Wolfgang felt +a wish to live and love, an eager desire for pleasure and enjoyment. If +he had had Frida near him now, he would have seized hold of her, have +clasped her in his arms, have quickly closed her mouth with kisses and +not let her go again. + +He could not contain himself any longer, he had to seize hold of +Artur, at any rate, and waltz with him along the sandy path +through the wood, so that the lanky youth, who had already run to so +many customers to shave them that day, could neither see nor hear. All +the other people stopped; such sights were nothing new to them on +excursions, not to speak of worse. It amused them, and, when Wolfgang +lifted his partner high up into the air with a loud shout of triumph +and swung him several times round his head, they clapped their +hands. + +Wolfgang was very much out of breath by this time. When they got out +of the wood they had to proceed more slowly; they might have trodden +some of the people to death in the more inhabited parts, for the fine +villas were already commencing. What a crowd! People were pushing and +squeezing each other at the place where the electric cars started. +Wolfgang and Artur posted themselves there too: what a joke it was to +see how the people who wanted to go by them elbowed each other. It was +still pretty light and as warm as summer, but it would soon be quite +dark, and the later it was the larger the crowd would be. The two stood +there laughing, looking quietly on at the throng. What did it matter to +them if they did not get a seat? They could run that short bit to their +homes. + +Wolfgang felt how his heart thumped against his side--it had been +great fun to dance with Frida. He had swung her round several times in +the booth adjoining a restaurant, in which a man sat strumming on a +piano, and had done the same to a couple of other girls, who had looked +longingly at the boisterous dancer. What a pleasure it had been. He +still felt the effects of it, his chest rose and fell tumultuously--oh, +what a pleasure it was to swing a girl round in his arm like that. +Wonderful! Everything was wonderful. + +Wolfgang trembled inwardly with untamed animal spirits, and +clenched his teeth so as not to draw people's attention to him by means +of a loud, triumphant shout. Oh, how splendid it would be, oh, how he +would love to do something foolish now. He thought it over: what on +earth could he do? + +At that moment a cough disturbed him. How hollow it sounded--as if +everything inside were loose. The young fellow who was standing behind +his broad back might have been coughing like that for some time--only +he had not noticed it; now he felt disgusted at his spitting. He +stepped aside involuntarily: faugh, how the man coughed! + +"Oh, how wretched it is that there isn't a cab to be had!" Wolfgang +now heard the older man say, on whose arm the young fellow who was +coughing was leaning. "Are you quite knocked up? Can you still stand +it?" There was such an anxiety expressed in that: "Can you still stand +it?" + +"Oh, pretty well," the young fellow answered in a hoarse voice. +Wolfgang pricked up his ears: he surely knew that voice? And now he +also recognised the face. Wasn't that Kullrich? Good gracious, how he +had changed. He raised his hat involuntarily: "Good evening, +Kullrich." + +And now the latter also recognised him. "Schlieben!" Kullrich +smiled, so that all his teeth, which were long and white, could be seen +behind his bloodless lips. And then he held out his hand to his former +schoolfellow: "You aren't at school either? I've left as well. It's a +long time since we've seen each other." + +The hand Wolfgang held had a disagreeable, moist, cold feeling, and +a shudder passed through him. He had forgotten long ago that he had +once heard that Kullrich had consumption; all at once he remembered it +again. But that was quite impossible, surely you could not die +so young? Everything in him strove against the conviction. + +"Have you been ill?" he asked quickly. "But now you're all right +again, aren't you?" It was quite difficult for him to remember that he +was speaking to his old schoolfellow; this Kullrich was quite a +stranger to him. + +"Oh yes, pretty fair," said Kullrich, smiling once more. Quite a +peculiar smile, which even struck the careless youth. Kullrich had +never been nice-looking, he had a lump at the end of his nose; but now +Wolfgang could not take his eyes off him. How much more refined his +face had grown and so--he could not contain himself any longer, all at +once he blurted it out: "How different you look now. I hardly +recognised you." + +"My son is soon going away," his father said quickly, drawing his +son's arm more closely through his own as he spoke. "Then I hope he +will come back quite well. But he has tried to do too much to-day. The +weather was so fine--plenty of fresh air and the smell of the pines, +the doctor said--but we have remained out too long. It won't do you any +harm, I trust?" There was again such a terrible anxiety expressed in +his voice. "Are you cold? Would you not like to sit down until we can +start?" The father put a camp-stool, which he had carried under his +arm, on the ground, and opened it: "Sit down a little, Fritz." + +Poor fellow! The father's voice, which trembled with such loving +anxiety, touched Wolfgang strangely. Poor fellow, he really must be +very ill. How terrible! He was overcome with dread, and stepped back +involuntarily for fear the sick boy's breath should reach him. He was +full of the egotism of youth and health; how unfortunate he should meet +him there to-day, just to-day. + +"May I get you a carriage?" he inquired hastily--only +let Kullrich get away, it was too awful to have to listen to that +cough--"I'm acquainted with this neighbourhood; I shall be able to get +one." + +"Oh yes, oh yes, a cab, a closed one if possible," said Kullrich's +father, drawing a deep breath as though relieved of a great anxiety. +"We shall not possibly be able to go by train. And it's getting so +late. Are you really not cold, Fritz?" A cool wind had suddenly risen, +and the old man took off his overcoat and hung it round his son's +shoulders. + +How awful it must be for him to see his son like that, thought +Wolfgang. To die, to die at all, how terrible. And how the man loved +his son. You could hear that in his voice, see it in his looks. + +Wolfgang was pleased to be able to run about for a cab. It was +difficult to get one now, and he ran about until he was quite out of +breath. At last he got one. When he reached the place where the +electric cars started, Herr Kullrich was in great despair. He had given +up all hope and his son had coughed a good deal. + +He did not know what to say, he was so grateful. The unpretentious +man--he was a subordinate official in one of the government offices and +probably could not afford it--promised the driver a good tip if he +would only drive them quickly to their home in Berlin. He enveloped his +son in the rug that lay on the back seat; the driver also gave them a +horse-cloth, and Wolfgang wrapped it round his schoolfellow's legs. + +"Thanks, thanks," said Fritz Kullrich faintly; he was quite knocked +up now. + +"Come and see us some time, Herr Schlieben," said the father, +pressing his hand. "Fritz would be pleased. And I am so grateful to you +for helping us." + +"But come soon," said the son, smiling again in that peculiar +manner. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye." Wolfgang stood staring after the carriage as it +disappeared quickly; there drove Kullrich--after his mother. + +Wolfgang's good spirits had flown. When his companions with whom he +had spent the afternoon sought him with loud hallos--Hans must have +given his Frida many hearty kisses, her hat was awry, her eyes gleamed +amorously--he got rid of them without delay. He said good-bye to them +quickly and went on alone. Death had touched his elbow. And one of the +old songs he had sung with Cilia, the girl from his childhood, suddenly +darted through his mind. Now he understood its deeper meaning for the +first time: + + Art thou now with fair cheeks prancing, + Cheeks milk-white, through rose-light glancing? + Roses wither soon, alas! + +He went home at once, he had no wish to loaf about out of doors +any longer. And as he sauntered along with unsteady gait down +out-of-the-way roads, something rose up before him in the dusk of the +autumn evening and placed itself in his path--it was a question: + +"And you? Where are you going?" + +He entered his parents' house in a mood that was strangely soft and +conciliatory. But when he stepped into the room, his parents were +sitting there as though to pass sentence on him. + +Käte had not been able to keep it to herself after all, it had +weighed on her mind, she had to tell somebody what she had seen. And it +had irritated her husband more than his wife had expected. So the boy +had got into such company! + +"Where have you been wandering about?" he said to his son +angrily. + +The boy stopped short: why that voice? It was not so late. +He raised his head with the feeling that they were treating him +unjustly. + +"Don't look at me so impudently." His father lost control of +himself. "Where is that woman you were wandering about with?" + +Wandering about--woman? The hot blood surged to the boy's head. +Frida Lämke a woman--how mad. "She isn't a woman," he flared up. And +then: "I haven't been wandering about." + +"Come, come, I've----" the man broke off quickly; he could not say: +"I've seen you"--so he said: "We've seen you." + +Wolfgang got very red. Oh!--they had spied on him--no doubt +to-day--had crept after him? He was not even safe from their prying +looks so far away. He was furious. "How can you say 'that woman.' She +isn't a woman." + +"Well--what is she then, may I ask?" + +"My friend." + +"Your friend?" His father gave a short angry laugh. "Friend--very +well, but it's rather early for you to have such a friend. I forbid you +to have friends of such doubtful, such more than doubtful +character." + +"She isn't doubtful." Wolfgang's eyes sparkled. How right Frau Lämke +was when she said the other day to him when he went to see them again: +"Although I'm very pleased to see you, don't come too often, Wolfgang. +Frida is only a poor girl, and such a one gets talked about at +once." + +No, there was nothing doubtful about her. The son looked his father +full in the face, pale with fury. "She's as respectable a girl as any. +How can you speak of her like that? How d----" He faltered, he was in +such a fury that his voice failed. + +"Dare--only say it straight out, dare." The man had more +control over himself now, he had become quieter, for what he saw in his +boy's face seemed to him to be honest indignation. No, he was not quite +ruined yet, he had only been led astray, such women prefer to hang on +to quite young people. And he said persuasively, meaning well: "Get +away from the whole thing as quickly as possible. You'll save yourself +much unpleasantness. I'll help you with it." + +"Thanks." The young fellow stuck his hands into his trouser pockets +and stood there with an arrogant expression on his face. + +His soft mood had disappeared long ago, it had flown as soon as he +took the first step into the room; now he was in the mood not to stand +anything whatever. They had insulted Frida. + +"Where does she live?" his father asked. + +"You would like to know that, I daresay." His son laughed +scornfully; it gave him a certain satisfaction to withhold her address, +they were so curious. They should never find it out. It was not at all +necessary to tell them. He threw his head back insolently, and did not +answer. + +O God, what had happened to the boy! Käte stared at him quite +terrified. He had changed completely, had become quite a different +being. But then came the memory--she had loved him so much once--and +the pain of knowing that she had lost him entirely and for ever. +"Wolfgang, don't be like that, I beseech you. You know we have your +welfare at heart, Wolfgang." + +He measured her with an inexplicable look. And then he looked past +her into space. + +"It would be better if I were out of it all!" he jerked out +suddenly, spontaneously. It was meant to sound defiant, but the +defiance was swallowed up in the sudden recognition of a painful +truth. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +They had agreed that Wolfgang should not live at the villa with them +any longer. True, he was still very young, but the time for +independence had come, his parents realised. Two prettily furnished +rooms were taken in the neighbourhood of the office--Wolfgang was to +take a much more active part in the business now--otherwise he would be +left to himself. This coming home so late at night, this responsible +control--no, it would not do for Käte to worry herself to death. Paul +Schlieben had taken this step resignedly. + +And it seemed as though the days at the Schliebens' villa were +really to be quieter, more peaceful. It was winter, and the snow was +such a soft protecting cover for many a buried hope. + +Wolfgang used to come and visit them, but not too often; besides, he +saw his father every day at the office. It never seemed to enter his +head that his mother would have liked to see him more frequently. She +did not let him perceive it. Was she perhaps to beg him to come more +frequently? No, she had already begged much too much--for many years, +almost eighteen years--and she told herself bitterly that it had been +lost labour. + +When he came to them, they were on quite friendly terms with each +other; his mother still continued to see that his clothes were the best +that could be bought, his shirts as well got up as they could +be, and that he had fine cambric night shirts and high collars. That he +frequently did not look as he ought to have done was not her fault; nor +was it perhaps the fault of his clothes, but rather on account of his +tired expression, his weary eyes and the indifferent way in which he +carried himself. He let himself go, he looked dissipated. + +But the husband and wife did not speak about it to each other. If he +could only serve his time as a soldier, thought Paul Schlieben to +himself. He hoped the restraint and the severe regulations in force in +the army would regulate his whole life; what they, his parents, had not +been able to effect with all their care, the drill would be able to do. +Wolfgang was to appear before the commissioners in April. At present, +during the winter, he certainly kept to the office hours more regularly +and more conscientiously, but oh, how wretched he often looked in the +morning. Terribly pale, positively ashen. "Dissipation." The father +settled that with a shake of his head, but he said nothing to his son +about it; why should he? An unpleasant scene would be the only result, +which would not lead to anything, and would probably do more harm. For +they no longer met on common ground. + +And thus things went on without any special disturbance, but all +three suffered nevertheless; the son too. + +Frida thought she noticed that Wolfgang was often depressed. +Sometimes he went to the theatre with her, she was so fond of +"something to laugh at." But he did not join in her laughter, did not +even laugh when the tears rolled down her cheeks with laughing. She +could really get very vexed that lie had so little sense of what was +amusing. + +"Aren't you enjoying yourself?" + +"Hm, moderately." + +"Are you ill?" she asked, quite frightened. + +"No." + +"Well, what's the matter with you then?" + +Then he shrugged his shoulders and looked so forbidding that she did +not question him any more, but only pressed his hand and assured him +she was amusing herself splendidly. + +Gradually these invitations to the theatre, which had mostly ended +so pleasantly in a little intimate talk in some café or other, ceased. +Frida saw her friend very rarely at all now; he no longer fetched her +from business, and did not turn up at her home. + +"Who knows?" said Frau Lämke, "perhaps he'll soon get engaged. He +has probably somebody in his mind's eye." + +Frida pouted. She was put out that Wolfgang never came. What could +be the matter with him? She commenced to spy on him; but not only out +of curiosity. + +And somebody else made inquiries about his doings too--that was his +mother. At least, she tried to find out what he was doing. But she only +discovered that he had once been seen in a small theatre with a pretty +person, a blonde, whose hair was done in a very conspicuous manner. Oh, +that was the one at Schildhorn. She still saw that fair hair gleam in +the dusk--that was the one who was doing all the mischief. + +The mother made inquiries about her son's doings with a sagacity +that would have done credit to a policeman. Had her husband had any +idea of how often--at any time of the day or evening--his wife wandered +round the house where Wolfgang had his rooms, he would have opposed it +most strenuously. Her burning desire to hear from Wolfgang, to know +something about him, made Käte forget her own dignity. When she knew he +was absent she had gone up to his rooms more than once, +nominally to bring him this or that; but when she found herself alone +there--she knew how to get rid of his garrulous landlady--she would +rush about in both his rooms inspecting everything, would examine the +things on his writing-table, even turn over every bit of paper. She was +never conscious of what she was doing as long as she was there, but on +going down the stairs again she felt how she had humiliated herself; +she turned scarlet and felt demeaned in her own eyes, and promised +herself faithfully never, never to do it again. And still she did it +again. It was torture to her, and yet she could not leave it off. + +It was a cold day in winter--already evening, not late according to +Berlin notions, but still time for closing the shops, and the theatres +and concerts had commenced long ago--and Käte was still sitting in her +son's rooms. He had not been to the villa to see her for a week--why +not? A great anxiety had suddenly taken possession of her that day, she +had felt obliged to go to him. Her husband imagined she had gone to see +one of Hauptmann's pieces played for the first time--and she could +also go there later on, for surely Wolfgang must soon come home now. In +answer to her letter of inquiry he had written that he had a cold, and +stopped at home in the evenings. Well, she certainly did not want him +to come out to her and catch fresh cold, but it was surely natural that +she should go to see him. She made excuses to herself. + +And so she waited and waited. The time passed very slowly. She had +come towards seven o'clock, now it was already nine. She had carefully +inspected both rooms a good many times, had stood at the window looking +down absently at the throng in the streets, had sat down, got up and +sat down again. Now she walked up and down restlessly, anxiously. The +landlady had already come in several times and found something +to do; her inquisitive scrutinising glances would have annoyed Käte at +any other time, but now she took no notice of them. She could not make +up her mind to go yet--if he were ill why did he not come home? Her +anxiety increased. Something weighed on her mind like a premonition of +coming evil. She would really have to ask the landlady now--it was +already ten o'clock--if he always came home so late in spite of his +cold. She rang for the woman. + +She came, inwardly much annoyed. Why had Frau Schlieben not confided +in her long ago? Hm, she would have to wait now, the stuck-up +person. + +"I suppose my son always comes home late?" Käte inquired. Her voice +sounded quite calm, she must not let such a woman notice how anxious +she really was. + +"Hm," said the landlady, "sometimes he does, sometimes he +doesn't." + +"I'm only surprised that he conies so late as he has a cold." + +"Oh, has the young gentleman a cold?" + +What, the woman with whom Wolfgang had lived almost three months +knew so little about him? And she had promised to take such exceedingly +good care of him. "You must give him a hot bottle at night. This room +is cold." Käte shivered and rubbed her hands. "And bring him a glass of +hot milk with some Ems salts in it before he gets up." + +The landlady heard the reproach in her voice at once, although +nothing further was said, and became still more annoyed. "Hm, if he +doesn't come home at all, I can't give him a hot bottle at night or hot +milk in the morning." + +"What--does not come home at all?" Käte thought she could +not have understood aright. She stared at the woman. "Does not come +home at all?" + +The woman nodded: "I can tell you, ma'am, it's no joke letting +furnished rooms, you have to put up with a good deal. Such a young +gentleman--oh my!" She laughed half-angrily, half-amused. "I once had +one who remained away eight days--it was about the first of the month. +I was terrified about my rent--I had to go to the police." + +"Where was he then? Where was he then?" Käte's voice quivered. + +The woman laughed. "Well, then he turned up again." She saw the +mother's terror, and her good-nature gained the victory over her +malice. "He'll be sure to come again, ma'am," she said consolingly. +"They all come again. Don't fear. And Herr Schlieben has only been two +days away as yet." + +Two days away--two days? It was two days since he had written, in +reply to her letter, that he had a cold and must remain at home. Käte +gazed around her as though she had lost her senses, her eyes looked +quite dazed. Where had he been the whole of those two days? Not there +and not at home--oh, he had not been to see her for a whole week. But +he must have been at the office or Paul would have mentioned it. But +where was he all the rest of the time? That was only a couple of hours. +And a day is long. And the nights, the nights! Good God, the nights, +where was he during the nights? + +Käte would have liked to have screamed aloud, but the landlady was +watching her with such inquisitive eyes, that she pressed the nails of +one hand into the palm of the other and controlled herself. But her +voice was nothing but a whisper now: "Hasn't he been here at all for +the last two days?" + +"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love of a gossip +was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. Drawing near to +the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair forward for +herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: "It +was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the +matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite +mad." + +"What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?" + +The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, you +mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to +call it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in the evening he went away +as usual--well, and then he did not come back again." + +"And how--how was he?" The mother could only get the words out in +jerks, she could no longer speak connectedly, a sudden terror had +overwhelmed her, almost paralysing her tongue. "Did he--seem strange?" +As in a vision his livid face and the place in the sand near +Schildhorn, where the wind was always blowing, appeared before her many +a mother's son, many a mother's son--O God, O God, if he had made away +with himself! She trembled as the leaves do in a storm, and broke down +altogether. + +The landlady guessed the mother's thoughts instinctively, and she +assured her in a calm good-natured voice: "No, don't imagine that +for a moment. He wasn't sad--and not exactly happy either--well, +like--like--well, just in the right mood." + +"And--oh, could you not give me a--a hint of--where--where he might +be?" + +The woman shook her head doubtfully. "Who could know that? You see, +ma'am, there are so many temptations. But wait a moment." She shut her +eyes tightly and pondered. "Some time ago such a pretty girl used to +come here, she used to fetch him to go to the theatre, she +said--well, it may have been true. She often came, very often--once a +week at least. She was fair, really a pretty girl." + +"Fair--quite light-coloured hair--a good deal of it and waved over +the ears?" + +"Yes, yes, it was done like that, combed over the ears, a large knot +behind you could not help noticing it, it was so fair. And they were on +very friendly terms with each other." + +Fair hair--extremely fair. Ah, she had known it at once when she saw +him at Schildhorn with that fair-haired girl. Everything seemed to be +clear to her now. "You--do not know, I suppose--oh, do you happen to +know her name?" + +"He called her Frida." + +"Frida?" + +"Yes, Frida. I know that for certain. But she does not come here any +more now. But perhaps he's got a letter from her. I'll look, just you +wait." And the woman bent down, drew out the paper-basket from under +the writing-table and began to rummage in it. + +"He throws everything into the paper-basket, you see," she said in +an explanatory tone of voice. + +She had certainly never sought there. Käte looked on with staring +eyes, whilst the woman turned over every scrap of paper with practised +ringers. All at once she cried out: "There, we've got it." And she +placed some bits of paper triumphantly on the table. "Here's a letter +from her. Do you see? I know the writing. Now we'll see." + +Laying their heads together the two women tried to piece together +the separate bits of the letter that had been torn up. But they were +not successful, too much was wanting, they could only put a very few +sentences together: + + "not come any more-- + "angry with me-- + "soon come to you some evening-- + "always your" + +But wait, here was the signature. That had not been torn, here it +stood large and connected at the bottom of the sheet of paper: + + "always your" + "FRIDA LÄMKE." + +"Frida Lämke?" Käte gave a loud cry of surprise. Frida Lämke--no, +she had never thought that--or were there perhaps two of the same name? +That fair-haired child that used to play in the garden in former years? +Why yes, yes, she had always had bold eyes. + +"You know her, I suppose?" asked the landlady, her eyes gleaming +with curiosity. + +Käte did not answer. She stared at the carpet in deep thought. Was +this worse--or was it not so bad? Could it not still be hindered now +that she was on the track, or was everything lost? She did not know; +her head was no longer clear enough for her to consider the matter from +a sensible point of view, she could not even think any more. She only +had the feeling that she must go to the Lämkes. Only go there, go there +as quickly as possible. Jumping up she said hastily: "That's all right, +quite all right--thanks. Oh, it's all right." And hastening past the +disconcerted woman she hurried to the door and down the stairs. +Somebody happened to unlock the door from outside at that moment; thus +she got out. + +Now she was in the street. She had never stood in Friedrichstrasse +so quite alone at that time of night before; her husband had always +accompanied her, and if she happened to go to the theatre or a concert +alone for once in a way, he had always fetched her himself or +made Friedrich fetch her, at any rate. All at once she was seized with +something that resembled fear, although the beautiful street was as +light as day. + +Such a quantity of men, such a quantity of women. They flowed past +her like a stream, and she was carried with them. Figures surged round +her like waves--rustling dresses that smelt strongly of scent, and +gentlemen, men, young and old, old men and youths, some of whom were +hardly more than boys. It was like a corso there--what were they all +seeking? So this was Berlin's much-talked-of and amusing life at night? +It was awful, oh, unspeakably horrible. + +Suddenly Käte saw everything from one point of view only. Hitherto +she had been blind, as unsuspicious as a child. A policeman's helmet +came into sight. She flew away as though somebody were in pursuit of +her: the man could not see that she had grey hairs and that she was a +lady. Perhaps he, too, looked upon her as one of those. Let her only +get away, away. + +She threw herself into a cab, she fell rather than got into it. She +gave the driver her address in a trembling voice. A burning longing +came over her all at once: home, only home. Home to her clean, +well-regulated house, to those walls that surrounded her like a +shelter. No, he must not come into her clean house any more, not carry +his filth into those rooms. + +She drove the whole way huddled up in a corner, her trembling +eyelids closed convulsively; the road seemed endless to her to-day. How +slowly the cab drove. Oh, what would Paul say? He would be getting +anxious, she was so late. + +All at once Käte longed to fly to her husband's arms and find +shelter on his breast. She had quite forgotten she had wanted to go to +the Lämkes straight away. Besides, how could she? It was +almost midnight, and who knows, perhaps she would only find a mother +there, who was just as unhappy as she? Lost children--alas, one does +not know which is more terrible, a lost son or a lost daughter! + +Käte cried bitterly. But when the tears stole from under her closed +lids and ran down her cheeks, she became calmer. Now that she no longer +saw the long procession in the street, did not see what went on there +every night, her fear disappeared. Her courage rose again; and as it +rose the knowledge came to her, that she was only a weak and timid +woman, but he a robust youth, who was to be a man, a strong swimmer. +There was no need to lose all hope yet. + +By the time the first pines in the quiet colony glided past to the +right and left of her and the moonshine showed pure white on their +branches, Käte had made up her mind. She would go to the Lämkes next +day and speak to the mother, and she would not say anything to her +husband about it beforehand. The same fear that now so often made her +mute in his presence took possession of her once more: he would never +feel as she felt. He would perhaps seize the boy with a rough hand, and +that must not be. She was still there, and it was her duty to help the +stumbling lad with gentle hand. + +Käte went up to her husband quite quietly, so calmly that he did not +notice anything. But when she took the road to the Lämkes next day, her +heart trembled and beat as spasmodically as it had done before. She had +fought against her fear and faint-heartedness the whole morning; now it +was almost noon on that account, Paul had told her at breakfast that +Wolfgang had not been to the office the day before and only for quite a +short time the preceding day. "I don't know what's the matter with the +boy," he had said. "I'm really too angry with him. But I +suppose we ought to find out what's happened to him." "I'll do so," she +had answered. + +Her feet hardly carried her as she slowly crept along, but at last +she almost ran: he had been her child for many, many years, and she +shared the responsibility. She no longer asked herself how she was to +begin the conversation with Frau Lämke, she hoped the right word would +be given her when the time came. + +So she groped her way down the dark steps to the cellar where the +Lämkes lived, knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for an +answer. + +Frau Lämke was just washing the floor, the brush fell from her hand +and she quickly let down the dress that she had turned up: Frau +Schlieben? What did she want at her house? The pale woman with the +innocent-looking face that had grown so thin gazed at the lady with the +utmost astonishment. + +"How do you do, Frau Lämke," said Käte, in quite a friendly voice. +"Is your daughter Frida at home? I want to speak to her." + +"No, Frida isn't at home." The woman looked still more perturbed: +what did the lady want with Frida? She had never troubled about her +before. "Frida is at business." + +"Is she? Do you know that for certain?" + +There was something offensive in her way of questioning, but Frau +Lämke did not notice anything in her innocence. "Frida is never back +from business at this time of day, but she is due in less than half an +hour. She has two hours off at dinner-time; in the evening she does not +come in until about ten, as they only close at nine. But if you would +like her to come to you after her dinner"--Frau Lämke was very curious, +what could she want with Frida?--"she'll be pleased to do so." + +"She'll be here in half an hour, you say?" + +"Yes, certainly. She's always in a hurry to come home to her +mother--and she's always hungry too." + +"I will wait for her if I may," said Käte. + +"Please sit down." Frau Lämke hastily wiped a chair with her apron: +after all, it was an honour that Wolfgang's mother came to see Frida in +the cellar. And in a voice full of cordial sympathy she said: "How is +the young gentleman? if I may ask. Is he quite well?" + +Käte did not answer her: that was really too great an impertinence, +quite an unheard-of impertinence. How could she ask so boldly? But all +at once she was filled with doubt: did she know anything about it? She +looked into her innocent eyes. This woman had probably been deceived as +she had been. She had not the heart to explain matters--poor mother! So +she only nodded and said evasively: "Quite well, thanks." + +They were silent, both feeling a certain embarrassment. Frau Lämke +peeled the potatoes for dinner and put them on, now and then casting a +furtive look at the lady who sat waiting. Käte was pale and tried to +hide her yawns; her agitation had been followed by a feeling of great +exhaustion. For was she not waiting in vain? And this mother would also +wait in vain to-day. The girl, that hypocrite, was not coming. Käte was +seized with something akin to fury when she thought of the girl's +fair hair. That was what had led her boy astray, that had bewitched +him--perhaps he could not throw her off now. "Always your--your Frida +Lämke"--she had sulked in that letter, he had probably wanted to draw +back but--"if you don't come I shall come to you,"--oh, she would no +doubt take care not to let him go, she held him fast. + +Käte did not believe that Frida Lämke would come home. It +was getting on for two o'clock. Her mother had lied, perhaps she was +acting in concert with the girl all the time. + +But now Käte gave a start, a step was heard on the cellar steps, and +on hearing it her mother said, delighted: "That's Frida." + +Someone hummed a tune outside--then the door opened. + +Frida Lämke was wearing a dark fur toque on her fair hair now, +instead of the little sailor hat; it was imitation fur, but two pigeon +wings were stuck in on one side, and the hat suited her pert little +face well. + +Käte was standing in the greatest agitation; she had jumped up and +was looking at the girl with burning eyes. So she had really come. She +was there but Wolfgang, where was he? She quite shouted at the girl as +she said: "Do you know where my son is--Wolfgang--Wolfgang +Schlieben?" + +Frida's rosy face turned white in her surprise. She wanted to say +something, stammered, hesitated, bit her lips and got scarlet. "How +should I know? I don't know." + +"You know very well. Don't tell a lie." Käte seized hold of Frida +violently by both her slender arms. She would have liked to catch hold +of her fair hair and scream aloud whilst tearing it out: "My boy! Give +me back my boy!" But she had not the strength to go on shaking her +until she had forced her to confess. + +Frida's blue eyes looked at her quite openly, quite frankly, even if +there seemed to be a slight anxiety in her glance. "I've not seen him +for a long time, ma'am," she said honestly. And then her voice grew +softer and there was a certain anxiety in it: "He used to come here +formerly, but he never does now--does he, mother?" + +Frau Lämke shook her head: "No, never." She did not feel at all at +her ease, everything seemed so strange to her: Frau Schlieben in their +cellar, and what did she want with Frida? Something had happened, there +was something wrong. But whatever it was her Frida was innocent, Frau +Schlieben must know that. And so she took courage: "If you think that +my Frida has anything to do with it, ma'am, you're very much mistaken. +My Frida has walked out a long time with Flebbe--Hans Flebbe, the +coachman's son, he's a grocer--and besides, Frida is a respectable +girl. What are you thinking about my daughter? But it's always like +that, a girl of our class cannot be respectable, oh no!" The insulted +mother got quite aggressive now. "My Frida was a very good friend of +your Wolfgang, and I am also quite fond of him when I felt so wretched +last summer he sent me fifty marks that I might go to Fangschleuse for +three weeks and get better--but let him try to come here again now, +I'll turn him out, the rascal!" Her pale face grew hot and red in her +vague fear that something might be said against her Frida. + +Frida rushed up to her and threw her arm round her shoulders: "Oh, +don't get angry, mother. You're not to excite yourself, or you'll get +that pain in your stomach again." + +Frida became quite energetic now. With her arm still round her +mother's shoulders she turned her fair head to Käte: "You'll have to go +somewhere else, ma'am, I can't tell you anything about your son. Mother +and I were speaking quite lately about his never coming here now. And I +wrote him a note the other day, telling him to come and see us--because +I had not seen him for ever so long, and--and--well, because he always +liked to be with me. But he hasn't answered it. I've certainly +not done anything to him. But he has changed greatly." She put on a +knowing look: "I think it would be better if he still lived at home, +ma'am." + +Käte stared at her. What did she suspect? What did she know? Did she +really know anything? Doubts rose in her mind, and then came the +certainty: this girl was innocent, otherwise she would not have been +able to speak like that. Even the most artful person could not look so +ingenuous. And she had also confessed quite of her own accord that she +had lately written to Wolfgang--no, this girl was not so bad, it +must be another one with fair hair. But where was she to look for +her?--where find Wolfgang? + +And holding out both her hands to the girl as though she were +begging her pardon, she said in a voice full of misery: "But don't you +know anything? Have you no idea whatever where he might be? It was two +days yesterday since he went away--since he disappeared--disappeared +entirely, his landlady does not know where." + +"Disappeared entirely--two days ago?" Frida opened her eyes +wide. + +"Yes, I've just told you so. That's why I am asking you. He has +disappeared, quite disappeared." + +A furious impatience took possession of his mother and at the same +time the full understanding of her painful position. She put her hands +before her face and groaned aloud. + +Frau Lämke and her daughter exchanged glances full of compassion. +Frida turned pale, then red, it seemed as if she were about to say +something, but she kept silent nevertheless. + +"But he's not bad, no, he's not bad," whispered Frau Lämke. + +"Who says that he's bad?" Käte started up, letting her hands fall +from before her face. All the misery she had endured during +those long years and the hopelessness of it all lay in her voice as she +added: "He's been led astray, he has gone astray--he's lost, lost!" + +Frida wept aloud. "Oh, don't say that," she cried. "He'll come back +again, he's sure to come back. If only I--" she hesitated and frowned +as she pondered--"knew for certain." + +"Help me! Oh, can't you help me?" + +Frau Lämke clasped her hands when she heard the poor woman's cry of +"Help me!" and trembled with excitement: how terrible if a mother has +to live to see her child do such things, the child she has brought into +the world with such pain. Forgetting the respect with which she always +regarded Käte she tottered up to her and grasped her cold hand as it +hung at her side: "Oh dear, oh dear, I am so grieved, so terribly +grieved. But calm yourself. You know a mother has still such power, +quite special power, her child never forgets her quite." And she smiled +with a certain security. + +"But he isn't my son--not my own son--I'm not his real mother." Käte +confessed now what she had never confessed before. Her fear dragged it +out of her and the hope that the woman would say: "He won't forget such +a mother either, certainly not." + +But Frau Lämke did not say it. There was doubt written on her face +and she shook her head. She had not thought of her not being Wolfgang's +real mother at that moment. + +There was a troubled silence in the room. All that could be heard +was a sound of heavy breathing, until at last Frida broke the +paralysing stillness in her clear voice. "Have you been to see the +landlady to-day?" she asked. Käte shook her head in silence. "Well +then, ma'am, you say it was two days ago yesterday, then he +may have come back to-day. We shall have to make inquiries. Shall I run +there quickly?" + +And she was already at the door, and did not hear her mother call +after her: "Frida, Frida, you must eat a mouthful first, you haven't +eaten any dinner yet," but ran up the cellar steps in her good-natured +haste and compassionate sympathy. + +Käte ran after her. + +But they got no further news in Friedrichstrasse. There were fires +in the rooms, they had been dusted, the breakfast table had even been +laid as if the young gentleman was expected to come any moment--the +landlady hoped to receive special praise for her thoughtfulness--but +the young gentleman had not returned. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Käte Schlieben was ill in bed. The doctor shrugged his shoulders: there +was not much to be done, it was a question of complete apathy. If only +something would happen that would rouse her, something for which it +would repay her to make an effort, she would be all right again. At +present he prescribed strengthening food--her pulse was so bad--every +hour a spoonful of puro, essence of beef, eggs, milk, oysters and such +like. + +Paul Schlieben was sitting near his wife's bed; he had just come +home from town. He was sitting there with bent head and knit brows. + +"Still nothing about him? What did the woman say--nothing at all +about him?" Käte had just whispered in a feeble voice. + +His only answer was: "We shall have to communicate with the police +after all now." + +"No, no, not with the police. Should we have him sought as though he +were a criminal? You're terrible, Paul. Be quiet, Paul." Her +voice that had been so feeble at first had almost become a scream. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing left for us to do but +that," and he looked at her anxiously and then lowered his head. + +It seemed to him as though he could not realise the calamity that +had overtaken him, as though it were too great. It was now a week since +Wolfgang had gone away--the misery that fellow had brought on them was +terrible, terrible. But his wife's condition made him still more +uneasy. How would it end? Her increased nervousness was dangerous; and +then there was her complete loss of strength. Käte had never been a +robust woman, but now she was getting so thin, so very thin; the hand +that lay so languidly on the coverlet had become quite transparent +during the last week. Oh, and her hair so grey. + +The man sought for the traces of former beauty in his wife's face +with sad eyes: too many wrinkles, too many lines graven on it, furrows +that the plough of grief had made there. He had to weep; it seemed too +hard to see her like that. Turning his head aside he shaded his eyes +with his hand. + +He sat thus in silence without moving, and she did not move either, +but lay as though asleep. + +Then somebody knocked. The man glanced at his wife in dismay: had it +disturbed her? But she did not raise her eyelids. + +He went to the door on tip-toe and opened it. Friedrich brought the +post, all sorts of letters and papers. Paul only held out his hand to +take them from habit, he took so little interest in anything now. +During the first days after Wolfgang's disappearance Käte had always +trembled for fear there should be something about him in the newspaper, +she had been tortured by the most terrible fears; now she no +longer asked. But it was the man's turn to tremble, although he tried +to harden himself: what would they still have to bear? He never took up +a paper without a certain dread. + +"Don't rustle the paper so horribly, I can't bear it," said the +feeble woman irritably. Then he got up to creep out of the room--it was +better he went, she did not like him near her. But his glance fell on +one of the letters. Whose unformed, copy-book handwriting was that? +Probably a begging letter. It was addressed to his wife, but she did +not open any letters at present; and he positively longed to open just +that letter. It was not curiosity, he felt as if he must do it. + +He opened the letter more quickly than he was in the habit of doing. +A woman had written it, no doubt a girl the letters were carefully +formed, with no character in them. And the person had evidently +endeavoured to disguise her writing. + +"If you wish to find out anything about your son, you must go to +140, Puttkammerstrasse, and watch the third storey in the back +building, left side wing, where 'Knappe' is written above the bell. +There she lives." + +No name had been signed underneath it; "A Good Friend" was all that +was written below. + +Paul Schlieben had a feeling as if the paper were burning his +fingers--common paper, but pink and smelling of cheap perfumed soap--an +anonymous letter, faugh! What had this trash to do with them? He was +about to crumple it up when Käte's voice called to him from the bed: +"What have you got there, Paul? A letter? Show me it." + +And as he approached her, but only slowly, hesitatingly, she raised +herself up and tore the letter out of his hand. She read it and cried +out in a loud voice: "Frida Lämke has written that. I'm sure it's from +her. She was going to look for him--and her brother and the man she's +engaged to--they will have found him. Puttkammerstrasse--where is that? +140, we shall have to go there. Immediately, without delay. Ring for +the maid. My shoes, my things--oh, I can't find anything. For goodness' +sake do ring. She must do my hair--oh, never mind, I can do it all +myself." + +She had jumped out of bed in trembling haste; she was sitting in +front of her dressing-table now, combing her long hair herself. It was +tangled from lying in bed, but she combed it through with merciless +haste. + +"If only we don't arrive too late. We shall have to make haste. He's +sure to be there, quite sure to be there. Why do you stand there +looking at me like that? Do get ready. I shall be ready directly, we +shall be able to go directly. Paul, dear Paul, we are sure to find him +there--oh God!" She threw out her arms, her weakness made her dizzy, +but her will conquered the weakness. Now she stood quite firmly on her +feet. + +Nobody would have believed that she had just been lying in her bed +perfectly helpless. Her husband had not the courage to oppose her +wishes, besides, how could things be worse than they were? They could +never be worse than they were, and at all events she would never be +able to reproach him any more that he had not loved the boy. + +When, barely half an hour later, they got into the carriage +Friedrich had telephoned for, she was less pale than, and did not look +so old as, he. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Whenever Frida Lämke met Wolfgang Schlieben now, she cast down her eyes +and he pretended not to see her. He was angry with her: the confounded +little minx to betray him. She was the only one who could have put his +parents on his track. How should they otherwise have ever guessed it? +He could have kicked himself for having once given that viper hints +about his acquaintance in Puttkammerstrasse. Frida and her friendship, +just let her try to talk to him again about friendship. Pooh, women on +the whole were not worth anything. + +A fierce contempt for women had taken possession of the young +fellow. He would have liked to spit in their faces--all venal +creatures--he knew quite enough about them now, ay, and loathed +them. + +The boy, who was not yet nineteen, felt tired and old; strangely +tired. When Wolfgang thought of the time that had just passed, it +seemed to him like a dream; now that the rooms in Friedrichstrasse had +been given up and he was living with his parents again, even like a bad +dream. And when he met Frida Lämke--that could not be avoided as he +drove to and fro regularly in office hours now--he felt a bitter pang +every time. He did not even say how do you do to her, he could not +bring himself to say even that. + +If only he could throw of! the oppression that weighed him down. +They were not unkind to him--no, they were even very good--but still he +had always the feeling that they only tolerated him. That irritated him +and made him sad at the same time. They had not reproached him, would +probably not do so either, but his father was always grave, reserved, +and his mother's glance had something that simply tortured him. He was +filled with a morbid distrust: why did they not tell him straight out +they despised him? + +Something that was almost remorse troubled him during the nights +when he could not sleep. At such times his heart would throb, +positively flutter, he had to sit up in bed--he could not bear to lie +down--and fight for breath. Then he stared into the dark, his eyes +distended with terror. Oh, what a horrible condition that was. In the +morning when the attack was over--this "moral sickness"--as he used to +call it scornfully--he was vexed at his sentimentality. What wrong had +he done? Nothing different from what hundreds of other young fellows +do, only they were not so idiotic as he. That Frida, that confounded +gossip. He would have liked to wring her neck. + +After those bad nights Wolfgang was still more unamiable, more +taciturn, more sulky, more reserved than ever. And he looked more +wretched. + +"He's run down," said Paul Schlieben to himself. He did not say so +to his wife--why agitate her still more?--for he could see that she was +uneasy from the way she took care of him. She did not make use of words +or of caresses--those days were over--but she paid special attention to +his food; he was positively pampered. A man of his age ought to be much +stronger. His back no longer seemed to be so broad, his chest was less +arched, his black eyes lay deep in their sockets and had dark +lines under them. He held himself badly and he was always in very bad +spirits. His spirits, yes, his spirits, those were at the root of all +the evil, but no care could alter them and no medicine. The young +fellow was dissatisfied with himself, that was it, and was it any +wonder? He felt ashamed of himself. + +And the situation in which he had found him rose up before his +father's mental vision with terrible distinctness. + +He had let his wife wait downstairs for him--true, she had made a +point of going up with him, but he had insisted on her staying down in +the court-yard, that narrow, dark yard which smelt of fustiness and +dust--he had gone up alone. Three flights of stairs. They had seemed +terribly steep to him, his knees had never felt so tired before when +mounting any stairs. There was the name "Knappe." He had touched the +bell--ugh, what a start he had given when he heard the shrill peal. +What did he really want there? As the result of an anonymous letter he, +Paul Schlieben, was forcing his way in on strange people, into a +strange house? The blood surged to his head--and at that moment the +person opened the door in a light blue dressing-gown, no longer young, +but buxom, and with good-natured eyes. And by the gleam of a miserable +kitchen lamp, which lighted up the pitch-dark passage even at noon, he +had seen a smart top-coat and a fine felt hat hanging in the entrance, +and had recognised Wolfgang's things. So he was really there? There? So +the anonymous letter had not lied after all. + +He did not know exactly what he had done after that; he only knew he +had got rid of some money. And then he had led the young man down the +stairs by the arm--that is to say, dragged him more than led him. Käte +had met them halfway. She had found the time too long downstairs, +open-mouthed children had gathered round her, and women had +watched her from the windows. She was almost in despair: why did Paul +remain upstairs such a terribly long time? She had had no idea, of +course, that he had first to wake his son out of a leaden sleep in an +untidy bed. And she must never, never know. + +Now they had got him home again, but was it a pleasure? To that Paul +Schlieben had to give a curt "no" as answer, even if he had felt ever +so disposed to forgive, ever so placable. No joy came to them from that +quarter now. Perhaps they might have some later, much later. For the +time being it would be best for the young man to serve his time as a +soldier. + +Wolfgang was to present himself on the first of April. Schlieben +pinned his last hope to that. + +Wolfgang had always wished to serve with the Rathenow Hussars, but +after their last experiences his father deemed it more advisable to let +him join the more sedate infantry. + +Formerly Wolfgang would have opposed this plan very strenuously--in +any case it must be cavalry--now it did not enter his head to do so. If +he had to serve as a soldier, it was quite immaterial to him where; he +was dead tired. His only wish was to sleep his fill for once. Kullrich +was dead--his sorrowing father had sent him the announcement from +Görbersdorf towards Christmas--and he? He had wasted too many nights in +dissipation. + +It was a blow to Paul Schlieben that Wolfgang was not accepted as a +soldier. "Disqualified"--a hard word--and why disqualified? + +"Serious organic defect of the heart"--his parents read it with eyes +that thought they had made a mistake and that still read correctly. + +Wolfgang was very exhausted when he came home after the +examination, but he did not seem to mind much that he was disqualified. +He did not show it--but was he not, all the same? + +The doctor tried to put everything in as favourable a light as he +could after he, too, had examined him. "Defect of the heart, good +gracious, defect of the heart, there isn't a single person who has a +perfectly normal heart. If you take a little care of yourself, +Wolfgang, and live a regular life, you can grow to be a very old man +with it." + +The young fellow did not say a word. + +The Schliebens overwhelmed their doctor with reproaches. Why had he +not told them it long ago? He must surely have known. Why had he left +them in such ignorance? + +Dr. Hofmann defended himself: had he not again and again exhorted +them to be careful? He had been anxious about the boy's heart ever +since he had had scarlet fever, and had not concealed his fears. All +the same, he had not thought matters would get worse so quickly. The +boy had lived too gay a life. + +"Serious organic defect of the heart"--that was like a sentence of +death. Wolfgang laid down his arms. All at once he felt he had no +longer the strength to fight against those attacks in the night. What +he had fought out all alone in his bed, even without lighting his +candle, before he knew that, now drove him to his feet. It drove him to +the window--he tore it open--drove him round the room, until he at +last, completely exhausted, found rest in the arm-chair. It drove him +even to knock at his parents' door: "Are you asleep? I am so +frightened. Sit up with me." + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +They had had bad nights for weeks. Wolfgang had suffered and his mother +with him. How could she sleep when she knew that somebody in +the next room was in torture? + +Now he was better again. Their old friend's medicines had had a good +effect, and Wolfgang had gone through a regular cure: baths, friction, +massage, special diet. Now they could be quite satisfied with the +result. It was especially the strictly regular life that had done him +good; his weight had increased, his eyes were brighter, his complexion +fresher. They were all full of hope--all except one. That one had no +wish to live any longer. + +The month of April was raw and stormy, quite exceptionally cold. It +was impossible for the convalescent to be as much in the open air as +was desirable, especially as any exercise that would warm him, such as +tennis, cycling, riding, was still too tiring for him. The doctor +proposed to send him to the Riviera. Even if there were only a few +weeks left before it would be too hot there, that would suffice. + +His father was at once willing for the young fellow to go. If it +would do him good of course he must go. Käte offered to accompany +him. + +"But why, my dear lady? The youngster can quite well go alone," the +doctor assured her. + +However, she insisted on it, she would go with him. It was not +because she still feared she might lose him; it was her duty to do so, +she must accompany him even if she had not wished to. And at the same +time a faint desire began to stir in her, too, unknown to herself. She +was so well acquainted with the south--should they go to Sestri, for +example? She looked inquiringly at her husband. Had they not once spent +some perfectly delightful days on the coast near Spezia? There, near +the blue sea, where the large stone pines are greener and give more +shade than the palms further south, where there is something crisp and +refreshing in the air in spite of its mildness, where there is +nothing relaxing in the climate but everything is vivifying. + +He smiled; of course they could go there. He was so pleased that his +wife's enthusiasm was not quite a thing of the past. + +Wolfgang rummaged about in his room for a long time on the afternoon +before their departure. Käte, who feared he might exert himself too +much whilst packing, had sent Friedrich to assist him. But the latter +soon came downstairs again: "The young gentleman wishes to do it +alone." + +When Wolfgang had put the last things into his trunk he looked round +his room thoughtfully. He had grown up there, he had so often looked +upon the room as a cage, would he ever return to it? + +_Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come._ + +The text he had received at his confirmation hung on the wall +opposite him in a beautiful frame. He had not read it for a long time. +Now he read it again, smiling slightly, a little scornfully and a +little sadly. Yes, he would flutter back into it. He had got used to +the cage. + +And now he resolved to do something more as the very last thing--to +go to Frida. + +Frau Lämke was speechless with astonishment, almost frightened, when +she saw young Heir Schlieben step into her room about the time her +Frida generally came home. She stammered with embarrassment: "No, Frida +isn't at home yet--and Artur isn't either--and father is up in the +lodge--but if you will put up with my company until--until--they +come"--she pushed him a chair with a good deal of noise. + +He drew his chair close to the table at which she had been sewing. +Now he was sitting where he used to sit. And he remembered his first +invitation to the Lämkes' quite distinctly--it had been +Frida's tenth birthday--he had sat there with the children, and the +coffee and the cakes had tasted so excellent. + +And a host of other memories came back to him--nothing but pleasant +memories--but still he and Frau Lämke did not seem able to start a +proper conversation. Did he feel oppressed at the thought of meeting +Frida again? Or what made him so restless there? Yes, that was it, he +did not feel at home there now. + +There was something sad in his voice when he said to Frau Lämke as +he held out his hand to her on leaving: "Well--good-bye." + +"Well, I hope you'll have a real good time--good bye for the +present." + +He nodded in reply and shook her hand once more, and then he went. +He preferred to go and meet Frida, that was better than sitting in that +room. His heart was throbbing. Then he saw her coming towards him. + +Although it was dark and the street lamps not so good as in the +town, he recognised her already far off. She was wearing the same +sailor hat with the blue band she had had the summer before; it was +certainly rather early in the year, but it suited her--so fresh and +springlike. + +A feeling surged up in Wolfgang, as she stood before him, that he +had never known in the presence of any woman: a brotherly feeling of +great tenderness. + +He greeted her in silence, but she said in a glad voice: "Oh, is it +you, Wolfgang?" and held out her hand to him. + +He strolled along beside her as he had done before; she had +slackened her pace involuntarily. She did not know exactly on what +footing they were with each other, but still she thought she could feel +that he was no longer angry. + +"We are going away to-morrow," he said. + +"Well, I never! Where?" + +And he told her. + +She interrupted him in the middle. "Are you angry with me?" she +asked in a low voice. + +He shook his head in the negative, but he did not say anything +further about it. + +All she had intended saying to him, that she had not been able to do +anything else, that Hans had found him out, that she had promised his +mother and that she herself had been so extremely anxious about him, +remained unsaid. It was not necessary. It was as if the past were dead +and buried now, as if he had entirely forgotten it. + +When he told the girl, who was listening with much interest, about +the Riviera where he was going, something like a new pleasure in life +seemed to creep into his heart again. Oh, all he wanted was to get away +from his present surroundings. When he got to the Riviera everything +would be better. He had not got an exact impression of what it would be +like there; he had only half listened, no, he had not listened at all +when his mother told him about the south, it had all been so +immaterial to him. Now he felt himself that it was a good thing to take +an interest in things again. He drew a deep breath. + +"Are you going to send me a pretty picture post-card from there, +too?" she asked. + +"Of course, many." And then he laid his arm round her narrow +shoulders and drew her towards him. And she let him draw her. + +They stood in the public street, where the bushes that grew on both +sides of it were already in bud and the elder was swelling with the +first sap, and clung to each other. + +"Come back quite well," she sobbed. + +And he kissed her tenderly on her cheek: "Frida, I really have to +thank you." + +When Frida went to business next morning--it was half past +seven--she said to her mother: "Now he's gone," and she remained +thoughtful the whole day. She had not spoken to Wolfgang for many weeks +and she had not minded it at all during the time but since the evening +before she had felt sad. She had thought much of him, she could not +forget him at all. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Käte was alone with her son. Now she had him all to herself. What she +had striven for jealously before had now been given to her. Not even +nature that looked in at the windows with such alluring eyes could +attract him. It surprised her--nay, it almost saddened her now--that he +did not show more interest. They travelled through Switzerland--he saw +it for the first time--but those high mountains, whose summits were +lost in the snow and the clouds and that moved her to tears of adoring +admiration the first time she saw them, hardly wrung a glance from him. +Now and then he looked out of the carriage window, but he mostly leant +back in his corner reading, or dreaming with open eyes. + +"Are you tired?" + +"No," he said; nothing but "no," but without the surly abruptness +which had been peculiar to him. His tone was no longer unpleasant and +repellent. + +Käte looked at her son with anxious eyes: was the journey tiring +him? It was fortunate that she was with him. It seemed to her that she +was indispensable, and a feeling of heartfelt satisfaction made her +insensible to the fatigue of the long journey. + +Wolfgang was not much interested in the cathedral at Milan. "Yes, +grand," he said when she grew enthusiastic about the marvellous +structure. But he would not go up to the platform with her, +from which they would have a magnificent view all round as far as the +distant Alps, as the weather was so clear. "You go alone, leave me +here." + +At first it seemed ridiculous to her that she, the old woman, should +go up whilst he, the young man, remained below. But at last she could +not resist the desire to see all those marvellous things again that she +had already once enjoyed. She took a ticket for the platform, and he +opened one of the camp stools that stand about in the enormous empty +cathedral and sat down, his back against a marble pillar. + +Oh, it was nice to rest here. After the market outside, with its +noise and the buzzing of voices and all the gaudy colours, he found a +twilight here filled with the perfume of incense. It did not disturb +him that doors opened and closed, that people came in and out in +crowds. That here a guide gave the visitors the information he had +learnt by heart, drawling it quite loudly in a cracked voice without +heeding that he meanwhile almost stumbled over the feet of those who +were kneeling on low benches, confessing their sins in a whisper to a +priest seated there. That there someone was celebrating mass--the +priests were curtsying and ringing their bells--whilst here a cook +chattered to a friend of hers, the fowls that were tied together by +their legs lying beside her. + +All that did not disturb him, he did not notice it even. The +delicious twilight filled his senses, he was so sleepy, felt such a +blessed fatigue. All the saints smiled before his closing eyes, sweet +Marys and chubby little angels resembling cupids. He felt at his ease +there. Milan Cathedral, that wonder of the world, lost its embarrassing +grandeur; the wide walls moved together, became narrow and home-like, +and still they enfolded the world a peaceful world in which +sinners kneel down and rise again pure. Wolfgang was seized with a +great longing to kneel down there also. Oh, there it was again, the +longing he had had in his boyhood. How he had loved the church their +maid Cilia had taken him to. He still loved it, he loved it anew, he +loved it now with a more ardent love than in those days. He felt at +home in this church, he had the warm feeling of belonging to it. _Qui +vivis et regnas in sæcula sæculorum._ The golden monstrance gleamed as +it was raised on high, those who were praying bowed low, blissful +harmonies floated under the high arched dome, ever more and more +beautiful--more and more softly. His eyelids closed. + +And he saw Cilia--as fresh, as beautiful as life itself. Oh, how +very beautiful. Surely she had not looked like that before? He knew +that he was dreaming, but he was not able to shake off the dream. And +she came quite close to him--oh, so close. And she made the sign of the +cross--over him the organ played softly--hark, what was she saying, +what was she whispering above him? He wanted to seize hold of her hand, +question her, then he heard another voice: + +"Wolfgang, are you asleep?" + +Käte had laid her hand lightly on his hands, which were folded on +his knees. "I suppose I was a long time up there? You have felt +bored?" + +"Oh no, no." He said it enthusiastically. + +They went out of the cathedral together, whilst the organ sounded +behind them until they reached the market-place. Käte was in ecstasies +about the view she had had, so did not notice the mysterious radiance +in Wolfgang's eyes. He was quiet, and seemed to agree to +everything. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +His manner began to cause his mother some uneasiness. What would +have made her happy before--oh, how she had longed for a more docile +child in bygone days!--saddened her now. Was he, after all, worse than +they had any idea of? + +They had now reached the coast, had got to Sestri. Those were the +same stone pines under which she had sat and painted as a younger woman +eighteen years ago. But another hotel had come into existence since +then, quite a German hotel, German landlord, German waiters, German +food, German society, all the comfort the Germans like. Käte had wanted +to live a retired life, to devote herself to Wolfgang; but now +she felt she needed a chat with this one or that one at times, +for even if she and Wolfgang were together, she felt alone all the +same. What was he thinking of? His brow and his eyes showed that +he was thinking of something, but he did not express his thoughts. Was +he low-spirited--bright? Happy--sad? Were there many things he repented +of and did he ponder over them, or did he feel bored here? She did not +know. + +He kept away from everybody else with a certain obstinacy. It was in +vain that Käte encouraged him to play tennis with young girls who were +on the look-out for a partner; if he did not overdo it he might +certainly try to play. He was also invited to go out sailing, but he +did not seem to care for that sport any longer. + +Wolfgang lay right out on the mole for the most part, against the +rocky point of which the blue sea flings itself restlessly until it is +a mass of white foam, and looked across at the coast near San Remo +swimming in a ruddy violet vapour or back at the naked heights of the +Apennines, in whose semi-circle the white and red houses of Sestri +nestle. + +When the fishing boats glided into the harbour with slack +sails like weary birds, he got up and sauntered along to meet them at +the landing-place. Then he would stand there with his hands in his +trouser pockets, to see what fish they brought ashore. The catches were +not large. Then he took his hands out of his pockets and gave the +fishermen what money he had with him. + +If his mother had known what her son was thinking of! If she had +guessed that his soul flew away with weary wings like a gull drifting +over a boundless sea! + +Wolfgang was suffering from home-sickness. He did not like being +there. Everything was much too soft, much too beautiful there; he felt +bored. The stone pines with their pungent smell were the only things he +liked; they were even better than the pines in the Grunewald. But he +was not really longing for the Grunewald either. It was always the +same, whether he was here or there he was always racked with longing. +For what? For what place? That was what he pondered over. But he would +not have liked to say it to his mother, for he saw now that she did all +she could for him. And he found an affectionate word to say to her more +frequently than he had ever done before in his life. + +So at last, at last I Käte often gave him a covert side-glance: was +this the same boy who had resisted her so defiantly as a child, had +refused her love, all her great love? This boy whose face had moved her +so strangely in Milan Cathedral, was he the same who had lain on the +doorstep drunk?--ugh, so drunk! The same who had sunk, sunk so low, +that he--oh, she would not think of it any more. + +Käte wanted to forget; she honestly tried to do so. When she found +him in the cathedral sitting near the pillar, his hands folded, his +eyelids closed dreamily, he had seemed to her so young, still +touchingly young; his forehead had been smooth, as though all the lines +on it had been wiped away. And she had to think: had they not +expected too much of him? Had they always been just to him? Had they +understood him as they ought to have understood him? Doubts arose in +her mind. She had always deemed herself a good mother; since that day +in the cathedral she felt as though she had failed in something. She +herself could not say in what. But sadness and a large amount of +self-torturing pain were mingled with the satisfaction that her son had +now come to her. Ah, now he was good, now he was at least something +like what she had wished him to be--softer, more tractable--but +now--what pleasure had she from it now? + +"Wolfgang still causes me uneasiness," she wrote to her husband. +"It's beautiful here, but he does not see it. I am often +frightened." + +When her husband had offered to go with them he had done so because +he wished to save her in many ways--Käte had opposed it almost +anxiously: no, no, it was not at all necessary. She would much prefer +to be alone with Wolfgang, she considered it so much more beneficial +both for him and for herself. But now she often thought of her husband, +and wrote to him almost every day. And even if it were only a few lines +on a postcard, she felt the need of sending him a word. He, yes he +would find it just as beautiful there as she found it. As they had both +found it in the old days. They had once climbed that path over the +rocks together, he had given her his hand, had led her so that she +should not feel dizzy, and she had eyed the blue glassy sea far below +her and far above her the grey rocky promontory with the deep green +stone pines that kissed the blue of the sky with a blissful shudder. +Had she grown so old in those eighteen years that she dared not go +along that path any more? She had tried but it was of no use, she had +been seized with a sudden dizziness. That was because the hand +was not there that had supported her so firmly, so securely. Oh yes, +those had been better days, happier. + +Käte entirely forgot that she had coveted something so ardently in +those days, that she had saddened many an hour for herself and him, +embittered every enjoyment. Now she looked past the son who was +strolling along by her side, looked into the distance with tender eyes +in which a gleam of her lost youth still shone--her good husband, he +was so alone. Did he think of her as she of him? + +That evening when Wolfgang had retired to his room--what he did +there, whether he still sat up reading or writing or had already gone +to bed she did not know--she wrote to her husband. + +It was not the length and the full particulars she gave in the +letter that pleased Paul Schlieben so much--she had also written long +detailed letters to him from Franzensbad at the time--but he read +something between the lines. It was an unexpressed wish, a longing, a +craving for him. And he resolved to go to the south. After all, they +had lived so many years together, that it was quite comprehensible that +the one felt lonely without the other. + +He settled the business he had in hand with energetic eagerness. He +hoped to be ready to start in a week at the latest. But he would not +write to her beforehand, would not write anything whatever about it, it +was to be a surprise for once in a way. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The midday sun at Sestri was hot, but in spite of its gleaming power +the air became agreeable and refreshing just a little before sunset. A +sweet odour poured forth from every plant then, and this streaming +wealth of perfume was so soothing, so delicious. Käte felt her +heart overflow. Thank God, she was still not quite exhausted, not quite +worn-out yet, she still possessed the faculty of enjoying what was +beautiful. If Paul had only been there. + +High up, quite at the edge of the outermost promontory on that coast +and surrounded by the white foam of the ardent sea that longs to climb +up to the cypresses and pines, the holm-oaks and the strawberry-trees, +the many sweet-smelling roses, lies the garden of a rich marchese. The +mother and her son were sitting there. They were looking in silence at +the gigantic sun, which hung red, deep purple just above the sea that, +quiet and devout, solemn and expectant in the holy conception of the +light, shone with the splendid reflection of it. It was one of those +hours, those marvellous rare hours in which even mute things become +eloquent, when the hidden becomes revealed, the stones cry aloud. + +The woman felt quite startled as she gazed and gazed: oh, there it +was, the same gigantic red sun that she had once seen disappear into +the waves of the wild Venn. + +Alas, that that thought should come even now and torture her. She +turned quickly and looked at Wolfgang with timid apprehension--if he +should guess it. But he was sitting on a stone, taking no interest in +his surroundings; he had crossed his legs and his eyes were half +closed. Of what was he dreaming? She had to rouse him. + +"Isn't that splendid, grand, sublime?" + +"Oh yes." + +"It's setting--look how it's setting." Käte had jumped up from the +ivy-clad pine-stump and was pointing at it. Her cheeks were flushed and +she was full of enthusiasm at the sight of the purple sea, the radiant +light that was disappearing in such splendour. The tears came to her +eyes; they were dazzled. When she looked again it struck her +that Wolfgang was very pale. + +"Are you cold?" A sudden coolness blew from the sea. + +"No. But I"--suddenly he opened his dark eyes wide and looked at her +firmly--"I should like to know something about my mother. Now you can +speak--I'm listening." + +"Of your--your"--she stammered, it came so unexpectedly. Alas, the +sun, the Venn sun. She would have preferred to have been silent now; +now she had not the courage she had had before. + +But he urged her. "Tell me." There was something imperious in his +voice. "What is her name?--Where does she live?--Is she still +alive?" + +Käte looked around with terrified eyes. "Is she still alive?"--she +could not even answer that. Oh yes, yes, surely--of course--she was +still alive. + +And she told him all. Told him how they had got him away from the +Venn, had fled with him as though he had been stolen. + +As she told him it she turned pale and then red and then pale +again--oh, what a passion he would fly into. How he would excite +himself. And how angry he would be with her. For they had never +troubled about his mother since they left the Venn, never again. She +could not tell him any more. + +He did not ask any other questions. But he did not fly into a +passion as she had feared; she need not have defended her action when +he remained silent for some time, positively make excuses for it. He +gave her a friendly glance and only said: "You meant well, I feel sure +of that." + +As they went down the steps leading from the park to the town he +offered her his arm. He led her, to all appearances, but still +she had the feeling as if he were the one who needed a support--he +tottered. + +The cemetery at Sestri lies behind the marchese's garden. The white +marble monuments gleamed through the grey of evening; the white wings +of an enormous angel rose just above the wall that encircles the park. +Käte looked back: did not something like a presentiment seem to be +wafted to them from there--or was it a hope? She did not know whether +Wolfgang felt as she did or whether he felt anything, but she pressed +his arm more closely and he pressed hers slightly in return. + +She heard him walking restlessly up and down his room during the +night that followed the evening they had spent in the garden of Villa +Piuma. She had really made up her mind to leave him alone--she had +looked after him much too much formerly--but then she thought he was +still a patient, and that the agitation he must have felt on hearing +her story might be injurious to him. She wanted to go to him, but found +his door locked. He only opened it after she had repeatedly knocked and +implored him to let her come in. + +"What do you want?" There was again something of the old repellent +sound in his voice. + +But she would not allow herself to be deterred. "I thought you might +perhaps like to--well, talk a little more about it," she said +tenderly. + +"What am I to do?" he cried, and he wrung his hands and started to +stride restlessly up and down the room again. "If only somebody would +tell me what I'm to do now. But nobody knows. Nobody can know. What am +I to do--what am I to do?" + +Käte stood there dismayed: oh, now he had such thoughts. She saw it, +he had wept. She clung to him full of grieved sympathy. She did what +she had not done for a long time, for an exceedingly long time, she +kissed him. And shaken in the depths of her being by his "What am I to +do?" as by a just reproach, she said contritely: "Don't torture +yourself. Don't fret. If you like we'll go there--we'll look for +her--we shall no doubt find her." + +But he shook his head vehemently and groaned. "That's too late +now--much too late. What am I to do there now? I am no use for that or +for this"--he threw out his hands--"no use for anything. Mother, +mother!" Throwing both his arms round the woman he fell down heavily in +front of her and pressed his face against her dress. + +She felt he was sobbing by the convulsive movement of his body, by +the tight grasp of his hot hands round her waist. + +"If only I knew--my mother--mother--oh, mother, what am I to +do?" + +He wept aloud, and she wept with him in compassionate sympathy. If +only Paul had been there. She could not find any comforting words to +say to him, she felt so deserving of blame herself, she believed there +was no longer any comfort to be found. Before her eyes stood the _one_ +agonising, torturing question: "How is it to end?" engraved in large +letters, like the inscriptions over cemetery gates. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Käte took counsel with herself: should she write to her husband +"Come"? Wolfgang was certainly not well again. He did not complain, he +only said he could not sleep at night and that made him so tired. She +did not know whether it was moral suffering that deprived him of his +sleep or physical. She was in great trouble, but she still put off the +letter to her husband. Why should she make him hasten to them, take +that long journey? It would not be of any use. It was still not clear +to her that she wanted him for herself, for her own sake. She even +omitted writing to him for a few days. + +Wolfgang lay a great deal on the couch in his room with the shutters +closed; he did not even read. She often went in to keep him company--he +must not feel lonely--but it seemed almost as though he were just as +pleased to be alone. + +When she looked at him furtively over the top of her book in the +semi-obscurity of the room, she could not think he was so ill. It was +probably a disinclination to do anything more than anything else--a +slackness of will-power that made him so apathetic also physically. If +only she could rouse him. She proposed all manner of things, drives +along the coast to all the beautifully situated places in the +neighbourhood, excursions into the mountains--they were so near the +highest summits in the Alps, and it was indescribably beautiful to look +down into the fruitful valleys of the _cinque terre_ that were full of +vineyards--sails in the gulf, during which the boat carries you so +smoothly under the regular strokes of practised boatmen, that you +hardly notice the distance from the shore and still are very soon +swimming far out on the open sea, on that heavenly clear, blue sea, +whose breath liberates the soul. Did he want to fish--there were such +exquisite little gaily-coloured fish there, that are so stupid and +greedy they grab at every bait--would he not shoot ospreys as well? She +positively worried him. + +But he always gave her an evasive reply; he did not want to. "I'm +really too tired to-day." + +Then she sent for the Italian doctor. But Wolfgang was angry: what +did he want with that quack? He was so disagreeable to the old man that +Käte felt quite ashamed of him. Then she left him alone. Why should she +try to show him kindness if he would not be shown kindness? +She despaired about him. It made her very depressed to think that their +journey also seemed a failure--yes, it was, she saw that more every +day. The charm of novelty that had stirred him up during the first days +had disappeared; now it was as it had been before--worse. + +For now the air no longer seemed to agree with him. When they walked +together he frequently stood still and panted, like one who has +difficulty in breathing. She often felt quite terrified when that +happened. "Let us turn round, I know you don't feel well." But this +difficulty in breathing passed away so quickly that she scolded herself +for the excessive anxiety she always felt on his account, an anxiety +that had embittered so many years of her life. + +But one night he had another attack, worse than the others he had +already had at home. + +It might have been about midnight when Käte, who was sleeping +softly, rocked to sleep by the constant roar of the sea, was startled +by a knocking at the door between their two rooms, and by a cry +of "Mother, oh mother!" Was not that a child moaning? She sat up +drowsily--then she recognised his voice. + +"Wolfgang, yes, what's the matter?" She threw on her morning-gown in +a fright, pushed her feet into her velvet shoes, opened the door--there +he stood outside in his shirt and with bare feet, trembling and +stammering: "I feel--so bad." He looked at her imploringly with eyes +full of terror, and fell down before she had time to catch hold of +him. + +Käte almost pulled the bell down in her terror. The porter and +chambermaid came running. "Telegraph 'Come' to my husband--to my +husband. Quickly, at once." + +When the scared proprietor of the hotel also appeared, they +laid the sick lad on his untidy bed again; the porter rushed to the +telegraph station and for the doctor, the chambermaid sobbed. The +landlord himself hurried down into his cellar to fetch some of the +oldest brandy and the best champagne. They were all so extremely sorry +for the young gentleman; he seemed to be lying in a deep swoon. + +Käte did not weep like the good-natured person the chambermaid, +whose tears ran down her cheeks the whole time. She had too much to +think of, she had to do her duty until the last. Until the last--now +she knew it. It was not necessary for the doctor to shake his head nor +to whisper mysteriously to the proprietor of the hotel--she knew it. +Restoratives were brought from the chemist's; the sick lad's head was +lowered, his feet raised, they gave him camphor injections--the heart +would not be whipped on any more. + +Käte did not leave him; she stood close to his bed. The golden, +invincible, eternal light was just rising gloriously out of the waves +when he stammered something once more. She bent over him as closely as +she had once done over the sleeping boy, when she had longed to give +him breath of her breath, to mould him anew for herself, to give him +life of her life. She had not that wish any longer. She let him go now. +And if she bent over him so closely now, hung on his lips so +affectionately, it was only to hear his last wish. + +"Mo-ther?" There was such a question in his voice. He said nothing +further. He only opened his eyes once more, looked round searchingly, +sighed and then expired. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The sun laughed in at the windows. And the woman, who, with dry +eyes, was now standing at one of them looking out at the splendour, at +the refreshing, glorious morning that was more sparkling than +ever before, felt vanquished by the power of nature. It was too great, +too sublime, too irresistible--she must bend the knee admiringly before +nature, however veiled her eyes were. Käte stood a long time in deep +thought. Outside was life, here in the room was death. But death is not +the greatest evil. She turned round with a trembling sigh and stepped +back to the bed: "Thank God!" + +Then she sank on her knees before the dead boy, folded his cold +hands and kissed him. + +She did not hear that someone tapped softly at the door. + +"Madame." The chambermaid stuck her head in. And a man's head was +visible above the chambermaid's. + +"Madame." + +Käte did not hear. + +"Here is somebody--the gentleman--the gentleman has arrived." + +"My husband?" + +Paul Schlieben had pushed the girl aside and had entered, pale, +hurriedly, in great agitation. His wife, his poor wife. What a lot she +had had to go through alone. The lad dead! They had met him with the +news as he arrived unsuspectingly to surprise them at their +breakfast. + +"Paul!" It was a cry of the most joyful surprise, the utmost relief. +She fled from the cold dead into his warm arms. "Paul, Paul--Wolfgang +is dead!" Now she found tears. Streaming tears that would not cease and +that were still so beneficial. + +All the bitterness she had felt whilst her son was still alive +disappeared with them. "Poor boy--our poor dear boy." These tears +washed him clean, so clean that he again became the little innocent boy +that had lain in the blooming heather and laughed at the bright sun +with transparent eyes. Oh, if she had only left him there. She would +always reproach herself for not having done so. + +"Paul, Paul," she sobbed aloud. "Thank God, you are here. Had you +any idea of it? Yes, you had. You know how miserable, how unhappy I +feel." The elderly woman clasped her arms round the elderly man with +almost youthful fervour: "If I had not you--oh, the child, the poor +child." + +"Don't cry so much." He wanted to console her, but the tears rolled +down his lined face too. He had travelled there as quickly as he could, +urged on by a sudden anxiety--he had had no letters from her--he had +come full of joy to surprise them, and now he found things like this. +He strove for composure. + +"If only I had left him there--oh, if only I had left him +there!" + +The man entered into his wife's feelings of torture and +self-reproach, but he pointed to the dead boy, whose face above the +white shirt looked peculiarly refined, almost perfect, young and smooth +and quite peaceful, and then drew her more closely towards him with the +other hand. "Don't cry. You were the one to make a man of him--don't +forget that." + +"Do you think so?--Oh Paul!"--she bowed the face that was covered +with tears in deep pain--"I did not make him any happier by it." + +She had to weep, weep unceasingly in deep acknowledgment of worldly +error. She grasped her husband's hands tremulously and drew him down +with her at the side of the bed. + +The hands of husband and wife were clasped together over the son +they had lost. They whispered, deeply repentant and as though it came +from one mouth: + +"_Forgive us our trespasses._" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER*** + + +******* This file should be named 30732-8.txt or 30732-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/7/3/30732 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Raahauge</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Son of His Mother</p> +<p>Author: Clara Viebig</p> +<p>Release Date: December 22, 2009 [eBook #30732]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER***</p> +<br><br><center><h4>E-text prepared by Charles Bowen<br> + from page images generously made available by<br> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4></center><br><br> +<p> </p> +<table border=0 bgcolor="ccccff" cellpadding=10> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/sonofhismother00viebiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/sonofhismother00viebiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" noshade> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg i]</span></p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>THE SON OF HIS MOTHER</h1> + +<h2>BY CLARA VIEBIG</h2> + +<h3>Authorised Translation by H. RAAHAUGE</h3> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<br> + +<h2>LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD<br> +NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY<br> +TORONTO: BELL & COCKBURN MCMXIII</h2> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg ii]</span></p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h3> THE ANCHOR PRESS, LTD., TIPTREE ESSEX</h3> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg iii]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>BOOK I</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg iv]</span></p> + +<p class="continue">[Blank Page]</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 1]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>The Son of his Mother</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">The husband and wife were of a literary turn of mind, and as +they had the money to cultivate their artistic tastes he wrote a little and she +painted. They also played and sang duets together, at least they had done so +when they were first married; now they went to concerts and the opera more +frequently instead. They were liked wherever they went, they had friends, they +were called "charming people," and still something was wanting to complete their +happiness--they had no children.</p> + +<p class="normal">And they would probably not have any now, as they had been +married for some time, and the likelihood of children being born to them was +very remote.</p> + +<p class="normal">No doubt he sighed and knit his brow in unguarded moments when +he sat at his desk in his office, but especially when he passed through the +villages in the Brandenburg March on the rides he took in the more distant +environs of Berlin--partly for his health, partly because he still retained the +liking for riding from the time he was in the cavalry--and saw swarms of little +flaxen-haired children romping on the sandy roads. However, he did not let his +wife perceive that he missed something, for he loved her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she could not control herself in the same manner. The +longer she was married the more nervous she became. At times she felt irritated +with her husband for no reason. She persistently turned her eyes away from the <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 2]</span> announcement of births in the newspapers with a certain shrinking, +and, if her glance happened once in a way to fall on one in which happy parents +notified the birth of a son, she put the paper aside hastily.</p> + +<p class="normal">In former years Käte Schlieben had knitted, crocheted, +embroidered and sewn all sorts of pretty little children's garments--she used to +be quite famous for the daintiness of her little baby jackets trimmed with blue +and pink ribbons, all her newly married acquaintances would ask her for the +wonderful little things--but now she had finally given up that sort of work. She +had given up hope. What good did it do her to put her forefingers into the tiny +sleeves of a baby's first jacket, and, holding it out in front of her, gaze at +it a long, long time with dreamy eyes? It only tortured her.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she felt the torture twice as much in those grey days that +suddenly put in an appearance without any reason, that creep in silently even in +the midst of sunshine. On those occasions she would lie on the couch in her room +that was furnished with such exquisite taste--really artistically--and close her +eyes tightly. And then all at once a shout, clear, shrill, triumphant, like the +cry of a swallow on the wing, would ascend from the street, from the promenade +under the chestnut-trees. She stopped her ears when she heard that cry, which +penetrated further than any other tone, which soared up into the ether as +swiftly as an arrow, and cradled itself up there blissfully. She could not bear +to hear anything like that--she was becoming morbid.</p> + +<p class="normal">Alas, when she and her husband grew old, with minds no longer +so receptive and too weary to seek incitement in the world, who would bring it +to them in their home? Who would bring them anything of what was going on +outside? What youth with his freshness, with the joyousness that envelops those +of twenty like a dainty <span class="pagenum">[Pg 3]</span> garment, that beams +from smooth brows like warmth and sunshine, would give them back a breath of +their youth, which had already disappeared in accordance with the laws of Time? +Who would wax enthusiastic at the things that had once made them enthusiastic, +and which they would enjoy once more as though they were new for them too? Who +would fill the house and garden with his laughter, with that careless laughter +that is so infectious? Who would kiss them with warm lips, and make them happy +by his tenderness? Who would carry them on his wings with him, so that they did +not feel they were weary?</p> + +<p class="normal">Alas, there is no second youth for those who are childless. +Nobody would come into the inheritance of delight in what was beautiful, of +taste for what was beautiful, of enthusiasm for art and artists which they would +leave behind them. Nobody would guard reverently all those hundreds of things +and nicknacks she had gathered together so tastefully in her house with the +delight of a collector. And nobody would, alas, hold the hand that was fast +growing cold with loving hands, in that last difficult hour which all dread, and +cry: "Father, Mother, don't go! Not yet!" Oh, God, such loving hands would not +close their eyes----</p> + +<p class="normal">When Paul Schlieben used to come home from his office in those +days he was co-partner in a large business that his grandfather had founded and +his father raised to a high position--he often found his wife's sweet face +stained with tears, her delicate complexion marred by constant weeping. And her +mouth only forced itself to smile, and in her beautiful brown eyes there lurked +a certain melancholy.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor shrugged his shoulders. The lady was suffering from +nerves, that was what was the matter <span class="pagenum">[Pg 4]</span> with +her. She had too much time for brooding, she was left to herself too much.</p> + +<p class="normal">In order to alter this, her anxious husband withdrew from the +business for an indefinite period. His partners could get on just as well +without him. The doctor was right, he must devote himself more to his wife; they +were both so lonely, so entirely dependent on each other.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was decided they should travel; there was no reason +whatever why they should remain at home. The beautiful house was given up, their +furniture, all their costly things were stored. If they cared to do so they +could remain away for years, get impressions, amuse themselves. Käte would paint +landscapes in beautiful countries, and he--well, he could easily find +compensation in writing, should he miss his usual work.</p> + +<p class="normal">They went to Italy and Corsica--still further, to Egypt and +Greece. They saw the Highlands, Sweden and Norway, very many beautiful places.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte pressed her husband's hand gratefully. Her susceptible +mind waxed enthusiastic, and her talent for painting, which was by no means +insignificant, felt powerfully stimulated all at once. How splendid to be able +to paint, to keep hold of all that glow of colour, that wonderful effect of tone +that revealed itself to her delighted eyes on her canvas.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was so eager that she went out with her painting materials +in the morning, whether it was at Capri, on the shores of the blue Bosphorus, in +the yellow sand of the desert, facing the precipitous pinnacles in the Fjords, +or in the rose gardens of the Riviera. Her delicate face got sunburnt; she no +longer even paid any attention to her hands, which she used to take such care +of. The ardent longing to manifest herself had seized hold of her. Thank God, +she could <span class="pagenum">[Pg 5]</span> +create something now. The miserable feeling of a useless life did not exist any +longer, nor the torturing knowledge: your life ceases the moment your eyes +close, there is nothing of you that will survive you. Now she would at least +leave something behind that she had produced, even if it were only a picture. +Her paintings increased in number; quite a quantity of rolls of canvas were +dragged about now wherever they went.</p> + +<p class="normal">At first Paul Schlieben was very pleased to see his wife so +enthusiastic. He politely carried her camp-stool and easel for her, and never +lost patience when he remained for hours and hours near her whilst she worked. +He lay in the scanty shadow of a palm-tree, and used to follow the movements of +her brush over the top of his book. How fortunate that her art gave her so much +satisfaction. Even though it was a little fatiguing for him to lie about doing +nothing he must not say anything, no, he must not, for he had nothing to offer +her as a compensation, nothing whatever. And he sighed. It was the same sigh +that had escaped him when the numerous flaxen-haired little children were +playing about on the sandy roads in the Brandenburg March, the same sigh which +Sundays drew from him, when he used to see all the proletariat of the town--man +and wife and children, children, children--wandering to the Zoo. Yes, he was +right--he passed his hand a little nervously across his forehead--that writer +was right--now, who could it be?--who had once said somewhere: "Why does a man +marry? Only to have children, heirs of his body, of his blood. Children to whom +he can pass on the wishes and hopes that are in him and also the achievements; +children who are descended from him like shoots from a tree, children who enable +a man to live eternally." That was the only way in which life after death could +be understood--life eternal. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 6]</span> +The resurrection of the body, which the Church promises, was to be interpreted +as the renewal of one's own personality in the coming generations. Oh, there was +something great, something indescribably comforting in such a survival.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you speculating about something?" asked his wife. She had +looked up from her easel for a moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eh? What? Did you say anything, darling?" The man started up +in a fright, as one who has been straying along forbidden paths.</p> + +<p class="normal">She laughed at his absent-mindedness; it was getting worse and +worse. But what was he thinking of? Business?--surely not. But perhaps he wanted +to write a novel, a tale? Why should he not try his hand at that for once in a +way? That was something quite different from sending short chatty accounts of +one's journey to one of the papers. And of course he would be able to do it. +People who had not half the education, not half the knowledge, not half the +aesthetic refinement of feeling he had wrote quite readable books.</p> + +<p class="normal">She talked brightly and persuasively to him, but he shook his +head with a certain resignation: nonsense, neither novels nor any other kind of +writing. And he thought to himself: it is always said that a piece of work is +like a child--that is to say, only a truly great piece of work, of course. Was +the work he and his wife created work in that sense? Work that would exist +eternally? He suddenly found things to censure severely in her picture, which he +had politely admired only the day before.</p> + +<p class="normal">She got quite frightened about it. Why was he so irritable +to-day? Was he going to develop nerves at the finish? Yes, it was evident, the +warm air of the south did not suit him, he had lost his briskness, looked so +tired. There was nothing for it, her husband was <span class="pagenum">[Pg 7]</span> more to her than +her picture, she would leave off her painting at once.</p> + +<p class="normal">And that was what happened. They went away, travelled from one +place to another, from one hotel to another, along the lakes, over the frontier, +until they made a somewhat longer stay high up among the Alps in Switzerland.</p> + +<p class="normal">Instead of lying under a palm-tree he lay in the shadow of a +fir--now his wife was painting--and followed the movements of her brush with his +eyes over the top of his open book.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was busily painting, for she had discovered a delightful +subject. That green alpine meadow, with its wealth of flowers as variegated as +they could possibly be and the backs of the brown cows with the sun shining on +them, was as full of charm as the Garden of Eden on the first day of creation. +In her eagerness to see she had pushed her broad-brimmed hat back, and the warm +summer sun was burning little golden spots on her delicate cheeks and the narrow +bridge of her finely shaped nose. She held the brush that she had dipped into +the green on her palette up against the green of the meadow in order to compare +the two, and blinked with half-closed eyes to see if she had got the colour +right.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment a sound made her start--it was half a growl of +displeasure at the disturbance, half a murmur of approval. Her husband had risen +and was looking at a couple of children who had approached them noiselessly. +They were offering rhododendrons for sale, the girl had a small basket full of +them, the boy was carrying his nosegay in his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">What exceedingly pretty creatures they were, the girl so +blue-eyed and gentle, the boy a regular little scamp. The woman's heart swelled. +She bought all <span class="pagenum">[Pg 8]</span> the rhododendrons from them, +even gave them more than they asked for them.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was a stroke of great luck for the little Swiss boy and +girl--just think, to get more than they had asked for. They blushed with +happiness, and when the strange lady asked them questions in a kind voice, they +commenced to chatter ingenuously.</p> + +<p class="normal">She would have to paint <i>those</i> children, they were +really too delightful, they were a thousand times more beautiful than the most +beautiful landscape.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben looked on with a strange uneasiness whilst his +wife painted the children, first the big girl and then the small boy. How +intently she gazed at the boy's round face. Her eyes were brilliant, she never +seemed to be tired, and only paused when the children grew impatient. All her +thoughts turned on the painting. Would the children come again that day? Was the +light good? Surely there would not be a storm to prevent the children from +coming? Nothing else was of any interest to her. She displayed great zeal. And +still the pictures turned out bad; the features were like theirs, but there was +no trace of the child-mind in them. He saw it clearly: those who are childless +cannot paint children.</p> + +<p class="normal">Poor woman! He looked on at her efforts with a feeling of deep +compassion. Was not her face becoming soft like a mother's, lovely and round +when she bent down to the children? The Madonna type--and still this woman had +been denied children.</p> + +<p class="normal">No, he could not look on at it any longer, it made him ill. +The man bade the children go home in a gruff voice. The pictures were ready, +what was the good of touching them up any more? That did not make them any +better, on the contrary.</p> + +<p class="normal">That evening Käte cried as she used to cry at home. <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 9]</span> And she was angry with her husband. Why did he not let her have +that pleasure? Why did he all at once say they were to leave? She did not +understand him. Were the children not sweet, delightful? Was it because they +disturbed him?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," was all he said. There was a hard dry sound in his +voice--a "yes" that came with such difficulty--and she raised her head from the +handkerchief in which she had buried it and looked across at him. He was +standing at the window in the carpeted room of the hotel, his hands resting on +the window-ledge, his forehead pressed against the pane. He was gazing silently +at the vast landscape before him, in which the mountaintops covered with snow +that glowed in the radiance of the setting sun spoke to him of immortality. How +he pressed his lips together, how nervously his moustache trembled.</p> + +<p class="normal">She crept up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "What +is the matter with you?" she asked him softly. "Do you miss your work--yes, it's +your work, isn't it? I was afraid of that. You are getting tired of this, you +must be doing something again. I promise you I'll be reasonable--never complain +any more--only stop here a little longer, only three weeks longer--two weeks."</p> + +<p class="normal">He remained silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Only ten--eight--six days more. Not even that?" she said, +bitterly disappointed, for he had shaken his head. She wound her arms round his +neck. "Only five more--four--three days, please. Why not? Those few days, please +only three days more." She positively haggled for each day. "Oh, then at least +two days more."</p> + +<p class="normal">She sobbed aloud, her arms fell from his neck--he must allow +her two days.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her voice cut him to the heart. He had never heard <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 10]</span> her beg like that before, but he made a stand against the feeling +of yielding that was creeping over him. Only no sentimentality. It was better to +go away from there quickly, much better for her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We're going away to-morrow."</p> + +<p class="normal">And as she looked at him with wide-open horror-struck eyes and +pallid cheeks, the words escaped from his lips although he had not intended +saying them, drawn from him by a bitterness that he could not master any longer:</p> + +<p class="normal">"They are not yours!"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 11]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">And they went away.</p> + +<p class="normal">But it seemed to the woman as though every joy had disappeared +with the emerald green meadow in the Alps, in which she had painted the lovely +children. There was the same old nervous twitch in her face, the corners of her +mouth drooped slightly and she cried very easily. Paul Schlieben watched his +wife with positive dismay. Oh dear, had it all been in vain, the giving up of +his work, all this travelling about without making any plans that was so +fatiguing? Had the old melancholy frame of mind taken possession of her again?</p> + +<p class="normal">When he saw her sitting there so disinclined to exert herself, +her hands lying idle in her lap, a feeling akin to fury came over him. Why did +she not do something? Why did she not paint? That confounded meadow in the Alps +was surely not the only place where she could work. Was it not beautiful here as +well?</p> + +<p class="normal">They had settled down in the Black Forest. But it was in vain +that he hoped from day to day that one of the quiet green wooded valleys or one +of the nut-brown maidens of the Black Forest with her cherry-red hat and +enormous red umbrella, as Vautier has painted them, would tempt her to bring out +her painting materials. She felt no inclination--nay, she had positively a kind +of dread of touching her brushes again.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 12]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He reproached himself bitterly in secret. Would it not have +been better to have left her that pleasure and not have interfered? Still--the +thing would have had to end some time, and the longer it had lasted the more +difficult the separation would have been. But he had made up his mind about one +thing, they would return to Berlin again late in the autumn. With the best will +in the world he would not be able to stand it any longer. He was heartily tired +of this wandering from hotel to hotel, this lounging about the world with +nothing to show for it but an occasional short article for the papers, a chatty +account of a journey to some corner of the earth of which people knew but +little. He longed for a home of his own again, and felt a great desire to return +to his business, which he had often looked upon as a fetter and so prosaic +whilst he was in it. But Käte! When he thought of her again spending many hours +alone at home, with no interests beyond herself and her reading for in her state +of hypersensitiveness she found little pleasure in associating with other +women--a feeling of hopelessness came over him. Then there would be the same sad +eyes again, the same melancholy smile, the old irritable moods from which the +whole house used to suffer, herself the most.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he subjected himself to an examination as though blaming +himself for it. He passed his whole life in review: had he committed any crime +that no son had been given to him, no daughter? Ah, if only Käte had a child +everything would be right. Then she would have quite enough to do, would be +entirely taken up with the little creature round which the love of parents, full +of hope and entitled to hope, revolves in an ever-renewed circle.</p> + +<p class="normal">Both husband and wife were torturing themselves, for the +woman's thoughts especially always ended at <span class="pagenum">[Pg 13]</span> +that one point. Now that she had been separated from those dear children, from +the, alas, much too short happiness she had experienced that summer, it seemed +to have become quite clear to her what she missed--for had it not only weighed +on her like a painful suspicion before? But now, now the terrible unvarnished +truth was there: everything people otherwise call "happiness" in this world is +nothing compared to a child's kiss, to its smile, to its nestling in its +mother's lap.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had always given the children in the meadow a tender kiss +when they came and went, now she longed for those kisses. Her husband's kiss did +not replace them; she would soon have been married fifteen years, +<i> his</i> kiss was no longer a sensation, it had become a habit. But a kiss +from a child's lips, that are so fresh, so untouched, so timid and yet so +confiding, was something quite new to her, something, exceedingly sweet. A +feeling of happiness had flowed through her soul on those occasions as well as +the quite physical pleasure of being able to bury her mouth in those delicately +soft and yet so firm cheeks, which health and youth had covered with a soft down +like that on the cheeks of a peach. Her thoughts always wandered back to that +meadow in the Alps, full of longing. And this longing of hers that was never +stilled magnified what had happened, and surrounded the figures that had +appeared in her life for so short a time with the whole halo of tender memories. +Her idle thoughts spun long threads. As she longed for those little ones so they +would also be longing for her, they would wander across the meadow weeping, and +the large present of money she had left behind for each of them with the +proprietor of the hotel--she had been obliged to leave without saying good-bye +to them--would not console them; they would stand <span class="pagenum">[Pg 14]</span> +outside the door and cast their eyes up to the windows from which their friend +so often had waved to them. No, she could not forgive Paul for showing so little +comprehension of her feelings.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stay in the Black Forest, whose velvety slopes reminded +them too much of the Swiss meadows and from whose points of view you could look +over to the Alps on a clear day, became a torture to both the man and woman. +They felt they must get away; the dark firs, the immense green forest became too +monotonous for them. Should they not try some seaside resort for once? The sea +is ever new. And it was also just the season for the seaside. The wind blew +already over the stubble in the fields, as they drove down to the plain.</p> + +<p class="normal">They chose a Belgian watering-place, one in which the visitors +dress a great deal, and in which quite a cosmopolitan set of people offer +something new to the eye every day. They both felt it, they had remained much +too long in mountain solitudes.</p> + +<p class="normal">During the first days the gay doings amused them, but then +Paul and his wife, between whom something like a barrier had tried to push +itself lately, both agreed all at once: this sauntering up and down of men who +looked like fools, of women who if they did not belong to the demi-monde +successfully imitated it, was not for them. Let them only get away.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man proposed they should give up travelling entirely and +return to Berlin a little earlier, but Käte would not listen to it. She had a +secret dread of Berlin--oh, would she have to go back to her old life again? So +far she had never asked herself what she had really expected from these long +months of travel; but she had hoped for something--certainly. What?</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh dear, now she would be so much alone again, and <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 15]</span> there was nothing, nothing that really filled her life entirely.</p> + +<p class="normal">No, she was not able to return to Berlin yet. She told her +husband that she felt she had not quite recovered yet--she was certainly anæmic, +she was suffering from poorness of blood. She ought to have gone to Schwalbach, +Franzensbad or some other iron springs long ago--who knows, perhaps many things +would be different then.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was not impatient--at least he did not show it--for he was +moved with a deep compassion for her. Of course she should go to some iron +springs; they ought to have tried them long ago, have made a point of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Belgian doctor sent them to the well-known baths at Spa.</p> + +<p class="normal">They arrived there full of hope. In her the hope was quite +genuine. "You will see," she said to her husband in a brighter voice, "this will +do me good. I have a vague feeling--no, I really feel quite sure that something +good will happen to us here."</p> + +<p class="normal">And he hoped so too. He forced himself to hope in order to +please her. Oh, it would be enough, quite enough if the characteristics of the +landscape won so much interest from her that she took up her painting again, +which she had neglected entirely. How pleased he would be at even that. If her +former zeal for art showed itself again, that was a thousand times more +health-bringing than the strongest iron springs at Spa.</p> + +<p class="normal">The heather was in bloom, the whole plateau was red, the +purple sun set in a mass of purple.</p> + +<p class="normal">It happened as he had hoped, that is to say, she did not begin +to paint, but she made expeditions into the Ardennes and the Eifel with him on +foot and in a carriage, and enjoyed them. The Venn had bewitched her. In <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 16]</span> her light-coloured dress she stood like a small speck of light in +the immense seriousness of the landscape, protected her eyes with her hand from +the view of the sun, which is so open there, so unobstructed either by tree or +mountain, and took deep breaths of the sharp clear air that has not yet been +vitiated by any smoke from human dwellings, hardly by human breath. Around her +the Venn blossomed like a carpet of one colour, dark, calm, refreshing and +beneficial to the eye; it was only here and there that the blue gentian and the +white quivering flock of the cotton-grass were seen to raise their heads among +the heather.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, how beautiful!" She said it with deep feeling. The +melancholy of the landscape flattered her mood. There was no gaudy tone there +that disturbed her, no medley of colours. Even the sun, which sets there in +greater beauty than anywhere else--blushing so deeply that the whole sky blushes +with it, that the winding Venn rivulet hedged in by cushions of moss, that every +pool, every peat-hole full of water reflects its beams ruddy-gold, and the sad +Venn itself wears a mantle of glowing splendour--even this sun brought no +glaringly bright light with it. It displayed its mighty disc in a grand +dignified manner, a serious victor after a serious struggle.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte looked into this marvellous sun with large eyes bathed in +tears, until the last beam, the last rosy streak in the grey mass of clouds had +vanished. Now it had gone--the heavens were dead--but in the morning it would be +there again, an eternal, imperishable, never-conquered hope. Then should not, +ought not the human heart to beat again too, revived anew, always full of hope?</p> + +<p class="normal">Clouds of mist sped across the moor, veiled, indescribable, +vague shapes. There was a whispering before <span class="pagenum">[Pg 17]</span> +the coming of the wind, a lisping through the heather and the cotton-grass--it +seemed to Käte as though the Venn had something to tell her. What was it saying? +Ah, it must be for some reason that she had come there, that she felt she was +being held fast as though by a strong and still kind hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">She walked on with quicker, more elastic steps, as though she +were searching for something.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her husband was delighted that his wife was so pleased with +the neighbourhood. True, the landscape had no special attraction for him--was it +not very desolate, monotonous and unfertile there? But the characteristic +scenery was certainly harmonious, very harmonious--well, if she found pleasure +in it, it was better than a paradise to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">They often drove up to Baraque Michel, that lonely inn on the +borders between Belgium and Prussia, in which the douaniers drank their drams of +gin when on the look-out for smugglers, and where the peat-cutters dry their +smocks that the mist has wetted and their saturated boots at the fire that is +always burning on the hearth.</p> + +<p class="normal">So many crosses in the Venn, so many human beings who have met +with a fatal accident. Käte listened to the men's stories with a secret +shudder--could the Venn be so terrible? and she questioned them again and again. +Was it possible that the man from Xhoffraix, who had driven off to get peat +litter, had been swallowed up there so close to the road with cart and horse, +and that they had never, never seen anything of him again? And that cross there, +so weather-beaten and black, how had that come into the middle of the marsh? Why +had that travelling journeyman, whose intention it was to go along the high road +from Malmedy to Eupen, gone so far astray? Had it been dark or had there been a <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 18]</span> heavy fall of snow so that he could not see, or was it the cold, +that terrible cold, in which a weary man can freeze to death? Nothing of the +kind; only a mist, a sudden mist, which confuses a man so, that he no longer +knows which is forward or which is backward, which is left or which is right, +that he loses all idea of where he is going, gets away from the road and runs +round in a circle like a poor, mad, terrified animal. And all the mists that +rise in the Venn when daylight disappears, are they the souls of those who have +never been buried, and who in garments that are falling to pieces rise every +night from their graves, which have neither been consecrated by a benediction +nor by holy water and in which they cannot find rest?</p> + +<p class="normal">That was a fairy tale. But was not everything there as in the +fairy tale? So quite different to everywhere else in the world, in reality ugly +and yet not ugly, in reality not beautiful and yet so exceedingly beautiful? And +she herself, was she not quite a different being there? Did she not wander about +full of hope, in blissful dreams, like one to whom something wonderful is to +happen?</p> + +<p class="normal">It was in the sixth week of their stay at Spa. The nights were +already as cold as in winter, but the days were still sunny. It was always a +long journey up to the inn even for the strong Ardennes horses, but Paul and his +wife were there again to-day. Would they have to leave soon? Alas, yes. Käte had +to confess it to herself with sorrow. Everything was very autumnal, the heather +had finished flowering, the air was raw; the grass that had already been frozen +during the night rustled under her feet. They could have found use for their +winter clothes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ugh, how cold," said the man shivering, and he turned up the +collar of his overcoat. He wanted to twist a shawl round his wife's neck, but +she resisted: <span class="pagenum">[Pg 19]</span> "No, no!" She ran on in front +of him through the rustling heather with quick steps. "Just look."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a wide view that presented itself to their eyes there +on the highest point in the Venn, that is adorned with a rickety wooden tower. +The whole large plateau covered with heather lay before them, with here and +there a group of dark firs that only showed spreading branches on the side away +from the storm. These firs that cowered so timidly were trees that had been +planted there; they were hardly higher than the heather, and only recognisable +on account of their different colour. And, here and there, there was a stray +grey boulder and a cross that the wind had carried to the side of it. And a calm +lay over the whole in the pale midday autumn light as though it were God's acre.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they had climbed up the tower they saw still more. From +the plateau they looked down into the valley: a blue expanse around them, blue +from the darkness of the forests and from autumn vapours, and in the beautiful +blue outstretched villages the white houses half hidden behind tall hedges. And +here, looking down on Belgium, with its grey fumes hanging like a cloud in the +clear transparent autumn air, lay the large town of Verviers with its +church-towers and factory chimneys towering above it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte heaved a sigh and shuddered involuntarily: oh, was the +workaday world so near? Was grey life already approaching nearer and nearer to +her wonderful fairy world?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her husband gave a slight cough; he found it very cold up +there. They went down from the tower, but when he wanted to take her back to the +inn she resisted: "No, not yet, not yet. That's only the midday bell."</p> + +<p class="normal">The bell was ringing in Fischbach Chapel, that ancient little +church with its slated roof, in whose tower the <span class="pagenum">[Pg 20]</span> +great red lantern was formerly hoisted to point out the safe harbour to the +wanderer swimming in the wild sea of mists, and the bell rung unceasingly to +save the man who had lost his way through his ear should his eye fail him. The +bell rang out clear and penetrating in the solitude, the only sound in the vast +stillness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How touching that sound is." Käte stood with folded hands and +looked into the wide expanse, her eyes swimming in tears. What a charm there was +in this Venn. It encircled the soul as the tough underwood of the heather and +the creeping tendrils of the club moss entangled the foot. When she thought of +how soon she would have to leave it, to go away from that immense stillness that +seemed to be concealing a secret, to be cherishing something marvellous in its +deep lap, her heart contracted in sudden fear. What would happen to her, what +would become of her? Her seeking soul stood like a child on the threshold of +fairyland asking for something--was there to be no gift for her?</p> + +<p class="normal">"What was that?" All at once she seized hold of her husband's +arm with a low cry of terror. "Didn't you hear it as well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She had grown quite pale; she stood there with dilated eyes, +raising herself on her toes with an involuntary movement and craning her neck +forward.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There it is again. Do you hear it?" Something like a child's +soft whimpering had penetrated to her ear.</p> + +<p class="normal">No, he had not heard anything. "I suppose there are some +people in the neighbourhood. How you do frighten a body, Käte." He shook his +head a little angrily. "You know very well that all the women and children have +left their villages in the Venn to gather cranberries. That's all the harvest +they have, you see. Look, the berries are quite ripe." Stooping down he took up +a plant.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 21]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The small cluster of berries of a deep coral in colour formed +a beautiful contrast to the glossy dark green of the small oval leaf. But there +were also some flowers on the plant, small pure white flowers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Like myrtle, just like the flower on a myrtle," she said, +taking the plant out of his hand. "And the leaves are also exactly like myrtle +leaves." Twisting the stalk round between her finger and thumb she gazed at it +thoughtfully. "The Venn myrtle." And, raising the little flower to her mouth, +she kissed it, full of delight.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you still remember--that time--on the evening of our +wedding-day, do you still remember? You kissed the myrtle that had been in my +wreath and I kissed it too, and then we kissed each other. Then--then--oh, how +happy we were then." She said it very softly, as though lost in sweet memories.</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled, and as she swayed towards him, with a dreamy look +in her eyes that were fixed the whole time on the little green plant, he drew +her closer and laid his arm round her. "And are we not--not"--he wanted to say +"not just as happy," but all he said was: "not happy to-day, too?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer, she remained silent. But then, hurling the +plant with its glossy leaves away with a sudden movement, she turned and ran +away from him blindly into the Venn, without noticing where she was going.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the matter, Käte?" He hurried after her, terrified. +She ran so quickly that he could not overtake her at once. "Käte, you'll fall. +Wait, I say. Käte, what is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No answer. But he saw from the convulsive movements of her +shoulders that she was weeping violently. Oh dear, what was the matter now? He +looked troubled as he ran after her across the desolate Venn. Was she +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 22]</span> never to get any better? It was really +enough to make a fellow lose all pleasure in life. How stupid it had been to +bring her to the Venn--real madness. There was no brightness to be found there. +A hopelessness lurked in that unlimited expanse, a terrible hardness in that +sharp aromatic air, an unbearable melancholy in that vast stillness.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man only heard his own quickened breathing. He ran more +and more quickly, all at once he became very anxious about his wife. Now he had +almost reached her--he had already stretched out his hand to seize hold of her +fluttering dress--then she turned round, threw herself into his arms and sobbed: +"Oh, here's both, blossom and fruit. But our myrtle has faded and not borne +fruit--not fruit--we poor people."</p> + +<p class="normal">So that was it--the same thing again? Confound it. He who as a +rule was so temperate stamped his foot violently. Anger, shame, and a certain +feeling of pain drove the blood to his head. There he stood now in that lonely +place with his wife in his arms weeping most pitifully, whilst he himself was +deserving of much pity in his own opinion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't be angry, don't be angry," she implored, clinging more +closely to him. "You see, I had hoped--oh, hoped for certain--expected--I don't +know myself what, but still I had expected something here--and today--just now +everything has become clear. All, all was in vain. Let me cry."</p> + +<p class="normal">And she wept as one in whom all hope is dead.</p> + +<p class="normal">What was he to say to her? How console her? He did not venture +to say a word, only stroked her hot face softly whilst he, too, became conscious +of a certain feeling, that feeling that he had not always the strength to push +aside.</p> + +<p class="normal">They stood like that for a long time without saying a <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 23]</span> word, until he, pulling himself together, said in a voice that he +tried to make calm and indifferent: "We shall have to return, we have got quite +into the wilds. Come, take my arm. You are overtired, and when we--"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hush," she said, interrupting him, letting go of his arm +quickly. "The same as before. Somebody is in trouble."</p> + +<p class="normal">Now he heard it as well. They both listened. Was it an animal? +Or a child's voice, the voice of quite a small child?</p> + +<p class="normal">"My God!" Käte said nothing more, but making up her mind +quickly, she turned to the right and ran down into a small hollow, without +heeding that she stumbled several times among the bushes, through which it was +impossible for her to force a passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her quick ear had led her right. There was the child lying on +the ground. It had no pillow, no covering, and was miserably wrapt up in a +woman's old torn skirt. The little head with its dark hair lay in the heather +that was covered with hoar-frost; the child was gazing fixedly into the luminous +space between the heavens and the Venn with its large clear eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no veil, nothing to protect it; no mother +either--only the Venn.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nevertheless they had deceived themselves. It was not crying, +it was only talking to itself as quiet contented children generally do. It had +stretched out its little hands, which were not wrapped up like the rest of its +body, and had seized hold of some of the red berries and squashed them. Then its +little fists had wandered up to the hungry mouth; there were drops of the juice +from the berries on its baby lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quite alone?" Käte had sunk down on her knees, her hands +trembled as they embraced the bundle. "Oh, the poor child. How sweet it is. +Look, Paul. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 24]</span> How has it come here? It will die of cold, of hunger. Do call +out, Paul. The poor little mite. If its mother came now I would give her a piece +of my mind it's disgraceful to let the helpless little mite lie like this. +Call--loud--louder."</p> + +<p class="normal">He called, he shouted: "Heigh! Hallo! Is nobody there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No voice answered, nobody came. The whole Venn was as quiet as +though it were an extinct, long-forgotten world.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nobody is coming," whispered Käte quite softly, and there was +an expression of fear and at the same time trembling exultation in her voice. +"Its mother does not trouble--who knows where the woman is? I wonder if she's +coming?" She looked round searchingly, turned her head in all directions, and +then stooped over the child again with a sigh of contentment.</p> + +<p class="normal">What unpardonable thoughtlessness--no, what unspeakable +barbarity to abandon such a mite in that place. If they had come only a few +hours--only an hour later. It might already have been bitten by a snake then, +might even have been torn to pieces by a wolf.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then her husband had to laugh, although the sight of her +over-excitement had slightly annoyed him. "No, my child, there are no poisonous +snakes here and no more wolves either, so you can be at rest about that. But +when the mists begin to rise, they would have done for him."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh!" Käte pressed the foundling to her bosom. She was sitting +on her heels holding the child in her lap; she stroked its rosy cheeks, its +little downy head, and showered caresses and flattering words on it, but the +child continued to gaze into the luminous space with its large, dark, and yet so +clear eyes. It did not smile, but it did not cry either; it took no notice +whatever of the strangers.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 25]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think it has been left here intentionally?" asked Käte +suddenly, opening her eyes wide. The blood flew to her head in a hot wave. "Oh +then--then"--she drew a trembling breath and pressed the child to her bosom, as +though she did not want to let it go again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It will all be cleared up somehow," said the man evasively. +"The mother will be sure to come."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you see her--do you see her?" she inquired almost +anxiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No." She repeated it in a relieved tone of voice, and then +she laughed. After that her eyes and ears belonged entirely to the helpless +little creature. "Where's baby--where is he then? Laugh a little, do. Look at me +once with those big, staring eyes. Oh, you little darling, oh, you sweet child." +She played with it and pressed kisses on its hands without noticing that they +were dirty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are we to do now?" said the man, perplexed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We can't leave it here. We shall have to take it with us, of +course." There was something very energetic about the delicate-looking woman all +at once. "Do you think I would forsake the child?" Her cheeks glowed, her eyes +gleamed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben looked at his wife with a certain awe. How +beautiful she was at that moment. Beautiful, healthy, happy. He had not seen her +like that for a long time. Not since he had folded her in his arms as a happy +bride. Her bosom rose and fell quickly with every trembling breath she took, and +the child lay on her breast and the Venn myrtle bloomed at her feet.</p> + +<p class="normal">A strange emotion came over him; but he turned away: what had +that strange child to do with them? <span class="pagenum">[Pg 26]</span> Still +he admitted in a hesitating voice: "We certainly can't leave it here. But do you +know what we can do? We'll take it with us to the inn. Give it to me, I'll carry +it."</p> + +<p class="normal">But she wanted to carry it herself, she only let him help her +up. "There--there--come, my sweet little babe." She raised her foot cautiously +to take the first step--then a shout tied her to the spot.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hallo!"</p> + +<p class="normal">A rough voice had shouted it. And now a woman came up to them; +the figure in the fluttering skirt was outlined big and clear against the +rarefied ether that flowed around it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Where had she come from so suddenly? From there, from behind +the mound of earth that had been thrown up near the peat pit. She had been +creeping on all fours plucking berries; a pail that was almost ft 11 hung on her +arm, and in her right hand she carried the wooden measure and the large bone +curry-comb with which she stripped off the berries.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was the mother! Käte got a terrible fright; she turned +pale.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her husband was taken by surprise too. But then he gave a sigh +of relief: that was decidedly the best way out of it. Of course, they might have +known it at once, how should the child have come into the desolate Venn all +alone? The mother had been looking for berries, and had put it down there +meanwhile.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the woman did not seem to take it kindly that they had +looked so carefully after the child during her absence. The strong bony arms +took it away from the lady somewhat roughly. The woman's eyes examined the +strangers suspiciously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is it your child?" asked Paul. He need not have asked the +question; it had exactly the same dark eyes <span class="pagenum">[Pg 27]</span> +as the woman, only the child's were brighter, not dulled as yet by life's dust +as the mother's were.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman made no answer. It was only when the man asked once +more, "Are you the mother?" and put his hand into his pocket at the same time, +that she found it worth while to give a curt nod:</p> + +<p class="normal">"C'est l' mi'n."<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_27" +href="#ftn_27">[A]</a></sup> Her face retained its gloomy expression; there was +no movement of pride or joy.</p> +<br> +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_27" href="#ftnRef_27"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>C'est le mien.</p></div> + +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Käte noticed it with a certain angry surprise. How indifferent +the woman was. Was she not holding the child as though it were a useless burden? +She was filled with envy, torturing envy, and at the same time with hot anger. +That woman certainly did not deserve the child. She would have liked to have +torn it out of her arms. How rough she looked, what coarse features she had, +what a hard expression. She might really frighten anybody terribly with her +black looks. But now--now her expression brightened; ah, she had seen the piece +of money Paul had taken out of his purse.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ugh, what a greedy expression she had now.</p> + +<p class="normal">The fruit-picker stretched out her hand--there was a large +shining silver coin--and when it was given to her, when she held it in her hand +she drew a deep breath; her brown fingers closed round it tightly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Merci." A smile passed quickly across the sullen face in +which the corners of the mouth drooped morosely, her blunted expression grew +animated for a moment or two. And then she prepared to trudge away, the +shapeless bundle containing the child on one arm, the heavy pail on the other.</p> + +<p class="normal">They now saw for the first time how poor her skirt was; it had +patches of all colours and sizes. Dried heather and fir-needles stuck to her +matted and untidy plaits, as they hung out from the gaudily spotted cotton <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 28]</span> handkerchief; she had an old pair of men's hobnailed shoes on her +feet. They did not know whether she was old or young; her stout body and hanging +breasts disfigured her, but that her face had not been ugly once upon a time +could still be seen. The little one resembled her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You've got a pretty child," said Paul. To please his wife he +started a conversation again with this woman who was so inaccessible. "How old +is the boy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The fruit-picker shook her head and looked past the questioner +apathetically. There was no getting anything out of the woman, how terribly +stupid she was. The man wanted to let her go, but Käte pressed up against him +and whispered: "Ask her where she lives. Where she lives--do you hear?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Heigh, where do you live, my good woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She shook her head once more without saying a word.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where do you come from, I mean? From what village?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Je ne co'pr nay,"<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_28a" +href="#ftn_28a">[A]</a></sup> she said curtly. But then, becoming more +approachable--perhaps she hoped for a second gift of money--she began in a +whining, plaintive voice: "Ne n'ava nay de pan et tat d's e'fa'ts."<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_28b" +href="#ftn_28b">[B]</a></sup></p> + +<p class="normal">"You're a Walloon, aren't you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ay<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_28c" +href="#ftn_28c">[C]</a></sup>--Longfaye." And she raised her arm and pointed in +a direction in which nothing was to be seen but the heavens and the Venn.</p> + +<p class="normal">Longfaye was a very poor village in the Venn. Paul Schlieben +knew that, and was about to put his hand into his pocket again, but Käte held +him back, "No, not her--not the woman--you must hand it over to the vestryman +for the child, the poor child."</p> +<br> +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_28a" href="#ftnRef_28a"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>Je ne comprends pas.</p></div> + +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_28b" href="#ftnRef_28b"><sup +class="ftnRef">B</sup></a>Nous n'avons pas de pain et tant d'enfants.</p></div> + +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_28c" href="#ftnRef_28c"><sup +class="ftnRef">C</sup></a>Yes.</p></div> +<br> +<br> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 29]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She whispered softly and very quickly in her excitement.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was impossible for the woman to have understood anything, +but her black eyes flew as quick as lightning from the gentleman to the lady, +and remained fixed on the fine lady from the town full of suspicion: if she +would not give her anything, why should she let them ask her any more questions? +What did they want with her? With the curtest of nods and a brusque "adieu" the +Walloon turned away. She walked away across the marsh calmly but with long +strides; she got on quickly, her figure became smaller and smaller, and soon the +faded colour of her miserable skirt was no longer recognisable in the colourless +Venn.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sun had disappeared with the child; suddenly everything +became grey.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte stood motionless looking in the direction of Longfaye. +She stood until she shivered with cold, and then hung heavily on her husband's +arm; she went along to the inn with dragging feet, as though she had grown tired +all at once.</p> + +<p class="normal">The mist began to conceal the bright midday. Cold damp air, +which wets more than rain, made their clothes clammy. The stinging flies from +the swamps flew in big swarms through the door and windows of the inn; a +smouldering peat-fire was burning within, fanned to a bright flame by means of +dry fir twigs, and the flies clung to the wall near the fire-place and to the +ceiling--no, they would not die yet.</p> + +<p class="normal">Autumn had come, sun and warmth had disappeared from the Venn, +it was wise to flee now.</p> + +<p class="normal">But outside, in the depths of the wilds above the highest +point in the Venn, a lonely buzzard was moving round and round in a circle, +uttering the piercing triumphant cry of a wild bird. He was happy there in +summer as in winter. He did not want to leave.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 30]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">The vestryman of the small village in the Venn felt somewhat +surprised and embarrassed when such a fine lady and gentleman drove up to his +house and wished to speak to him. He went out to them, walking through the +filthy water in his yard that splashed up to his knees. He did not know where he +should take them to, as the little pigs and the calf were in the house and the +old sow was wallowing in front of the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">So they walked up and down the quiet village street from which +the few farms lay somewhat back, whilst the carriage jolted slowly along in the +deep ruts behind them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was pale, you could see from her eyes that she had only +had very little sleep. But she was smiling, and a happy excitement full of +expectation was written on her features, spoke in her gait; she was always a +little ahead of the others.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her husband's face was very grave. Was he not committing a +great imprudence, acting in an extremely hasty manner for the sake of his wife? +If it did not turn out all right?</p> + +<p class="normal">They had had a bad night. He had brought Käte home from the +inn the day before in a strangely silent and absent-minded mood. She had eaten +nothing, and, feigning extreme fatigue, had gone early to bed. <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 31]</span> +But when he retired to rest a few hours later he found her still awake. She was +sitting up in bed with her beautiful hair hanging down her back in two long +plaits, which gave her quite a youthful appearance. Her bewildered eyes gazed at +him full of a strange longing, and then she threw both arms round his neck and +drew his head down to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her manner had been so strange, so gentle and yet so +impetuous, that he asked her anxiously whether there was anything the matter +with her. But she had only shaken her head and held him close in a silent +embrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last he thought she had fallen asleep--and she was asleep, +but only for quite a short time. Then she woke again with a loud cry. She had +dreamt, dreamt so vividly--oh, if he knew what she had been dreaming. +Dreaming--dreaming--she sighed and tossed about, and then laughed softly to +herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">He noticed that she had something on her mind, which she would +like to tell him but which she had hardly the courage to say. So he asked her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she had confessed it to him, hesitatingly, shyly, and yet +with so much passion that it terrified him. It was the child of which she had +been thinking the whole time, of which she always must think--oh, if only she +had it. She would have it, must have it. The woman had so many other children, +and she--she had none. And she would be so happy with it, so unspeakably happy.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had become more and more agitated in the darkness of the +night, uninterrupted by a single word from him, by any movement--he had lain +quite quietly, almost as though the surprise had paralysed him, although it +could not really be called a surprise any more. What was her whole life? she had +said. A constant <span class="pagenum">[Pg 32]</span> longing. All the love he +showered on her could not replace the one thing: a child, a child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My dear, good husband, don't refuse it. Make me happy. No +other mother on earth will be so happy--my darling husband, give me the child." +Her tears were falling, her arms clasped him, her kisses rained down on his +face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But why just <i>that</i> child? And why decide so quickly? +It's no trifle--we must think it over very carefully first."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had made objections, excuses, but she had pertinent answers +ready for all. What was to be thought over very carefully? They would not come +to any other result. And how could he think for a moment that the woman would +perhaps not give them the child? If she did not love it, she would be glad to +give it, and if she did love it, then all the more reason for her to be glad to +give it, and to thank God that she knew it was so well taken care of.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But the father, the father. Who knows whether he will agree +to it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, the father. If the mother gives it, the father is sure to +agree. One bread-eater less is always a good thing for such poor people. The +poor child, perhaps it will die for want of food, and it would be so well"--she +broke off--"isn't it like a dispensation of Providence that just we should come +to the Venn, that just we should find it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt that she was persuading him, and he strove against it +in his heart. No, if she allowed herself to be carried away by her feelings in +such a manner--she was only a woman--then he, as a man, must subordinate his +feelings to common sense.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he enumerated all the difficulties to her again and again, +and finally said to her: "You can't guess <span class="pagenum">[Pg 33]</span> +what troubles you may be preparing for yourself. If the affection you now think +you feel for the child should not last? If he is not congenial to you when he +grows older? Bear in mind, he is and will always be the child you have adopted."</p> + +<p class="normal">But then she had almost flown into a passion. "How can you say +such things? Do you think I am narrow-minded? Whether it is my own child or a +child I have adopted is quite immaterial, as it becomes mine through its +training. I will train it in my own way. That it is of your own flesh and blood +has nothing to do with it. Am I only to love a child because I have borne it? Oh +no. I love the child because--because it is so small, so innocent, because it +must be so extremely sweet when such a helpless little creature stretches out +its arms to you." And she spread out her arms and then folded them across her +breast, as though she was already holding a child to her heart. "You're a man, +you do not understand it. But you are so anxious to make me happy make me happy +now. Dear, darling husband, you will very soon forget that it is not our own +child, you will soon not remember it any more. It will say 'Father,' 'Mother' to +us--and we will be its father and mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">If she were right! He was silent, thrilled by a strange +emotion. And why should she not be right? A child that one trains according to +one's own method from its first year, that is removed entirely from the +surroundings in which it was born, that does not know but what it is the child +of its present parents, that learns to think with their thoughts and feel with +their feelings, cannot have anything strange about it any more. It will become +part of oneself, will be as dear, as beloved as though one had begotten it +oneself.</p> + +<p class="normal">Pictures arose before his mind's eye which he no <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 34]</span> longer expected to see, no longer ventured to hope for. He saw +his smiling wife with a smiling child on her lap; he saw himself smile, and felt +a pride he had never known when he heard its soft childish voice lisp: +"Fa-ther." Yes, Käte was right, all the other things that go by the name of +happiness are nothing compared to this happiness. Only a father, a mother, knows +what joy is.</p> + +<p class="normal">He kissed his wife, and this kiss already meant half consent; +she felt that.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let us drive there to-morrow, the first thing to-morrow +morning," she implored, in a tone of suppressed rapture.</p> + +<p class="normal">He endeavoured to remain calm: after they had maturely +considered the matter, they would first have to talk it over with their lawyer +in Berlin, and other intimate friends.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she lost her temper. She pouted, and then she laughed at +him: was this a business matter? What had the lawyer and other people to do with +such a very important, quite personal and private matter? Nobody was to be asked +about it, nobody was to interfere with it. Not a single person must suspect +where the child came from or who were its parents. They, he and she, were its +parents, they were responsible for it, its life had begun when they took it, and +they vouched for its future. This child was their work, their work entirely.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We'll fetch it the first thing to-morrow. The sooner it gets +out of that dirt and misery the better--don't you agree with me, Paul?" She did +not give him a chance of saying anything more, she overwhelmed him with plans +and proposals, in her sparkling vivacity; and her exuberant spirits overcame his +scruples.</p> + +<p class="normal">One can have too many scruples, be too cautious, and thus +embitter every pleasure in life, he said to <span class="pagenum">[Pg 35]</span> +himself. There was surely nothing extraordinary in what they were doing? They +only picked up something that had been laid at their feet; in that way they were +obeying a hint given them by Fate. And there were really no difficulties in +connection with it. If they did not betray it themselves nobody would find out +about the child's antecedents, and there would not be any questions asked in the +village either as to what had become of it. It was a nameless, homeless little +creature they were going to take away with them, of which they would make what +they liked. Later on when the little one was old enough they would formally +adopt it, and thus confirm also in writing what their hearts had already +approved of long ago. Now the only thing left to do was to get hold of the +vestryman at Longfaye, and make arrangements with the parents for the surrender +of the child with his assistance.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Paul Schlieben had come to this decision, he was troubled +with the same restlessness as his wife. Oh, if only it were morning, she +groaned. If anybody should steal a march on them now, if the child should no +longer be there next morning? She tossed about in her impatience and fear. But +her husband also turned from side to side without sleeping. How could they know +whether the child was healthy? For a moment he weighed anxiously in his mind +whether it would not be advisable to confide in the doctor at the baths at +Spa--he might drive with them and examine the child first of all--but then he +rejected the thought again. The child looked so strong. He recalled its sturdy +fists, the clear look in its bright eyes--it had lain on the bare ground in the +cold and wind without any protection--it must have a strong constitution. They +need not trouble about that.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was very early in the morning when husband and <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 36]</span> wife rose--weary as though all their limbs were bruised, but +driven on by a kind of joyful determination.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte ran about the room at the hotel, so busy, so happy and +excited, as though she were expecting a dear guest. She felt so sure they would +bring the child back with them straightway. At all events she would commence +packing the trunks, for when they had got it they would want to get home, home +as quickly as possible. "The hotel is no place for such a little darling. It +must have its nursery, a bright room with flowered curtains--but dark ones +besides to draw in front of the windows so as to subdue the light when it goes +to sleep--otherwise everything must be bright, light, airy. And there must be a +baby's chest-of-drawers there with all the many bottles and basins, and its +little bath, its bed with the white muslin curtains behind which you can see it +lying with red cheeks, its little fist near its head, slumbering soundly."</p> + +<p class="normal">She was so young-looking, so lovely in her joyful expectation, +that her husband was charmed with her. Did not the sunshine seem to be coming +now for which he had been waiting so long in vain? It preceded the child, fell +on its path, making it clear and bright.</p> + +<p class="normal">Both husband and wife were full of excitement as they drove to +Longfaye. They had taken a comfortable landau that could be closed that day, +instead of the light carriage for two in which they generally made their +excursions. It might be too cold for the child on the way back. Rugs and cloaks +and shawls were packed in it, quite a large choice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had taken his papers with him. They would +hardly be likely to want any proof of his identity, but he stuck them into his +pocket as a precaution, so as to provide against any delay that might be caused +by their absence. He had been told that the vestryman <span class="pagenum">[Pg +37]</span> +was quite a sensible man, so everything would be settled smoothly.</p> + +<p class="normal">As the rowan trees on both sides of the road bowed their tops +under their autumn load of red berries, so the heads of both husband and wife +were bowed under a flood of thoughts full of promise. The trees flew quickly +past the carriage as it rolled along, and so did their lives' different stages +past their agitated minds. Fifteen years of married life--long years when one is +expecting something first with confidence, then with patience, then with +faint-heartedness, then with longing, with a longing that is kept more and more +secret as the years go by, and that becomes more and more burning on account of +the secrecy. Now the fulfilment was at hand--a fulfilment certainly different +from what husbands and wives who love each other picture to themselves, but +still a fulfilment.</p> + +<p class="normal">That old sentence in the Bible came into the woman's mind and +would not be banished: <i>But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent +forth His Son.</i> Oh, this child from a strange, from an unknown land, from a +land that had neither fields nor fruits, and was not blessed with rich harvests, +this child was a gift from God, given by His goodness. She bowed her head full +of gratitude, as though she had received a blessing.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the man pressed his wife's hand gently, and she returned +the pressure. They remained sitting hand in hand. His glance sought hers and she +blushed. She loved him again as in the first year of her marriage--no, she loved +him much more now, for now, now he gave her the happiness of her life, the +child.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her eyes that were full of bliss swept over the poor Venn +district, which looked brown and desolate, and which was still a fairyland full +of the most glorious wonders.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 38]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Didn't I know it?" she murmured triumphantly, although +trembling with an agitation that was almost superstitious. "I felt +it--here--here."</p> + +<p class="normal">She could hardly wait until they reached the village hi the +Venn, oh, how far away from the world it lay, so quite forgotten. And so poor. +But the poverty did not terrify her, nor the dirt--the result of the poverty; +she was going to take the child away with her now, to take him where there was +culture and prosperity, and he would never know that he had lain on the bare +ground instead of in a soft bed. She thought of Moses. As he had been found in +the bulrushes on the banks of the Nile, so she had found him on the grass in the +Venn--would he become a great man like him? Desires, prayers, hopes, and a +hundred feelings she had not known before agitated her mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had some difficulty in making the vestryman +understand him. It was not because the man was a Walloon who hardly understood +German, for Nikolas Rocherath of "Good Hope"--his house having received that +name because it could be seen a good distance off in the Venn, it being the +largest in the village--was a German, but because he could not understand what +the gentleman meant.</p> + +<p class="normal">What did he want with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre? Adopt him? +He looked quite puzzled at first, and then he got offended. No, even if he was +nothing but a simple peasant, he would not let the gentleman make a fool of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was only by degrees that Schlieben could convince him that +his intentions were serious. But the old man still continued to rub his stubbly +chin doubtfully and cast suspicious glances at the lady and gentleman, who had +broken in on his solitude so unexpectedly. It was only when Käte, wearied and +tortured by the long <span class="pagenum">[Pg 39]</span> explanation, seized +hold of his arm impatiently, and looking into his face cried impetuously, almost +angrily, "For goodness' sake do understand. We have no child, but we want a +child--now do you understand it?"--that he understood.</p> + +<p class="normal">No child--oh dear! No child! Then people do not know what they +are living for. Now he nodded comprehendingly, and, casting a compassionate look +at the lady who was so rich, so finely dressed and still had no children, he +became much more approachable. So they were so pleased with Lisa Solheid's +Jean-Pierre that they wanted to take him to Berlin with them? How lucky the boy +was. Lisa would not be able to believe it. But nobody would begrudge her it. +Nobody in Longfaye was as poor as she; many a day she did not know how to get +sufficient food for herself and her five. Formerly, whilst her husband was +alive----</p> + +<p class="normal">What, her husband was not alive? She was a widow? Paul +Schlieben interrupted the vestryman, and drew a long breath as though of relief. +Although he had never spoken of it, he had always had a secret fear of the +father: if he turned out to be a drunkard or a ne'er-do-well? A load fell from +his mind now--he was dead, he could not do any more harm. Or had he died of an +illness after all, of a wasting disease that is handed down to children and +children's children? He had been told that the mists on the Venn and the sudden +changes in the temperature may easily be injurious to the lungs and +throat--added to that hard work and bad food--surely the young man had not died +of consumption? He asked the question anxiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Nikolas Rocherath laughed. No, Michel Solheid had never +known a day's illness all his life, and had not died of any illness. He had +worked at the machine factory at Verviers, covered with black soot and naked <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 40]</span> to the waist. Cold and heat had had no effect on him. And he used +to come over from Verviers every Saturday and spend Sunday with his family. And +it had been the Saturday before the festival of St. Peter and St. Paul somewhat +over a year ago now, and Michel had bought his wife a side of bacon and one or +two pounds of coffee for the money he had earned for overtime.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must know, sir, everything is much too dear for us here, +and it is much cheaper on the other side of the frontier," said the old man in a +troubled voice; then, raising his fist slowly, he shook it at the Venn that lay +there so peaceful and remote from the world. "But they were soon on his tracks. +They came after him from the Baraque--the accursed douaniers. Three, four of +them. Now you must know that Michel could run as well as any of them. If he had +thrown his parcel behind a bush and run, they would never have caught him. But +no, he would not, he would have felt ashamed of himself if he had done so. So in +order not to let them know where he was going, he ran to the left through the +Walloon Venn in the direction of Hill instead of to the right. Then on through +Clefay and Neckel,<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_40" +href="#ftn_40">[A]</a></sup> and so on in all directions, and in this manner he +got away from the neighbourhood he knew as well as he knew his own pocket. They +were close at his heels above the Pannensterz. And they ran after him calling +out 'Stop!'</p> + +<br> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_40" href="#ftnRef_40"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>Wooded districts in the High Venn.</p></div> +<br> +<br> + +<p class="normal">"Look you, sir, if he had run into the Great Haard then and +hidden in the thicket there, they would never have found him without a dog. But +he lost his head, and ran out of the bushes straight across the Venn.</p> + +<p class="normal">"'Halt!--Stop!'--and a third time 'Halt!' But he bounded along +like a stag. Then one of them pulled his trigger and--Jesus Christ have mercy +upon us, now and <span class="pagenum">[Pg 41]</span> at the hour of our +death!"--the vestryman devoutly made the sign of the cross and then wiped his +nose with the back of his hand--"the shot pierced the side of bacon and went +into his back, in from behind, out at the front. Then Solheid turned a +somersault. It was a shame. Such a fine fellow, for a side of bacon.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He still lived for over an hour. He told them that he was +Solheid from Longfaye, and that they should fetch his wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was just cutting my hedge that day, when somebody came +running up. And I started off with Lisa, who was six months gone with +Jean-Pierre at the time. But when we came there it was already too late.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They had left him lying not far from the large cross. They +had wanted to carry him to a house at Ruitzhof, but he had said 'Leave me. I'll +die here.' And he gazed at the sun.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sir, it was as large and red in the sky that day--as +large--as it will be on the Day of Judgment. Sir, he was bathed in sweat and +blood--they had chased him for hours--but he still enjoyed gazing at the sun.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sir, the fellow who had shot him was almost out of his mind; +he held him on his knees and wept. Sir, no,"--the vestryman gave himself a shake +and his gestures expressed the aversion he felt--"I would not like to be a +douanier!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The old man's voice had grown deeper and hoarser--it was a +sign of the sympathy he felt--now it got its former even-tempered ring again. +"If it's agreeable to you, ma'am, we'll go now."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, the child, the poor child," whispered Käte, quite shaken.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think the widow will part with her youngest child?" +asked Paul Schlieben, seized with a sudden <span class="pagenum">[Pg 42]</span> +fear. This child that had been born after its father's death--was it possible?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh!" the old man rocked his head to and fro and chuckled. "If +you give a good sum for it. She has enough of them."</p> + +<p class="normal">Nikolas Rocherath was quite the peasant again now; it was no +longer the same man who had spoken of the sun in the Venn and Solheid's death. +The point now was to get as much out of these people as possible, to fleece a +stranger and a townsman into the bargain to the best of his ability.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hundred thalers would not be too much to ask," he said, +blinking sideways at the gentleman's grave face. What a lot of money he must +have, why, not a muscle of his face had moved.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old peasant had been used to haggling all his life when +trading in cattle, now he gazed at the strange gentleman full of admiration for +such wealth. He led the way to Solheid's cottage with alacrity.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 43]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Like all the houses in the village, the Solheids' cottage +stood quite alone behind a hedge that reached as high as the gable. But the +hedge, which was to protect it against the storms that raged in the Venn and the +heavy snowdrifts, was not thick any longer; you could see that there was no +man's hand there to take care of it. The hornbeams had shot up irregularly; dead +branches lashed by the wind from the Venn stretched themselves in the air like +accusing fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ugh, it must be icy cold there in the winter. Käte +involuntarily drew her cloak of soft cloth lined with silk more tightly round +her. And it must be doubly dark there on dark days. Hardly any light found its +way through the tiny windows owing to the protecting hedge, and the roof hung +low over the entrance. There were no steps, you walked straight into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">The vestryman rattled the iron knocker on the door, which had +once been painted green but had no colour left now. The sound reverberated +through the building, but the door did not open when they tried it. The woman +was probably among the berries, and the children with her. The hungry screams of +the youngest one was all that was heard inside the locked cottage.</p> + +<p class="normal">The poor child--oh, she had left it alone again. Käte trembled +with excitement, its screams sounded to her like a call for help.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 44]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The vestryman sat down calmly on the chopping-block in front +of the door and drew his pipe out of the pocket of his blue linen smock, which +he had hastily drawn over his working coat in honour of the lady and the +gentleman. Now they would have to wait.</p> + +<p class="normal">The husband and wife looked at each other much disappointed. +Wait? Käte had refused the seat on the chopping-block, which the old man had +offered her with a certain gallantry. She could not rest, she walked restlessly +up and down in front of the little window, trying in vain to look through the +dark pane.</p> + +<p class="normal">The child inside screamed more and more loudly. Old Rocherath +laughed: what a roar that was to be sure, Jean-Pierre had powerful lungs.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte could not listen to the screams any longer, they tortured +her both bodily and mentally. Oh, how they made her ears tingle. She covered +them with her hands. And her heart trembled with compassion and anger: how could +its mother remain away so long?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her brow was wet with perspiration. She stared at the Venn, at +the bare, treeless, tortuous path with burning impatient eyes. At last she saw +some figures--at last!--and yet her breath stopped all at once, her heart ceased +to beat and then suddenly went hammering on at a furious pace as if mad. There +came the child's mother!</p> + +<p class="normal">Lisa Solheid was carrying a bundle of fagots on her back, +which was fastened round her shoulders with a rope The load was so heavy that it +quite weighed her down, bending her head forward. Three children--their small +feet in clumsy shoes with big nails in them--stamped along in front of their +mother, whilst a fourth was clinging to her skirt. It had also been looking for +cranberries, and its little hands were coloured red like those of its older +sister and brothers, who were carrying pails, measure and comb.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 45]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Pretty children, all four of them. They had the same dark eyes +as little Jean-Pierre, and they stared with them half boldly, half timidly at +the strange lady who was smiling at them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman did not recognise the lady and gentleman again who +had given her a present in the Venn the day before--or did she only pretend not +to?</p> + +<p class="normal">The rope which had kept the bundle together had cut deep into +her shoulders and bosom, now she undid it and threw off the burden with a +powerful jerk; and then, seizing hold of the axe lying near the chopping-block, +she began to chop up a couple of big branches with powerful strokes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hallo, Lisa," said the vestryman, "when you have chopped +sufficient wood to cook the cranberries, just wait a bit."</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked up at him for a moment. The strange lady and +gentleman had gone a little aside--without previous arrangement. Let the +vestryman tell her first. It was not so simple a matter as they had imagined. +She was not very approachable.</p> + +<p class="normal">Not a feature changed in the woman's reserved face; she went +on with her work in silence, her lips compressed. The wood was split up by means +of her powerful blows, and the pieces flew around her. Was she listening at all +to what the man was saying to her?</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes--the spectators exchanged a hasty glance--and now she was +answering too in a more lively manner than they would have supposed, judging +from her sullen appearance.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lisa Solheid raised her arm and pointed to the cottage in +which the little one was still screaming. Her speech--an almost barbaric +dialect--sounded rough, they understood nothing of it except a French word here +and there. The vestryman spoke Walloon too. Both of them <span class="pagenum">[Pg 46]</span> became +excited, raised their voices and spoke to each other in a loud voice; it sounded +almost like quarrelling.</p> + +<p class="normal">They did not seem to agree. Käte listened in suppressed +terror. Would she give it? Would he get it from her?</p> + +<p class="normal">She pulled her husband's sleeve when nobody was looking. +"Offer more, give her some more, a hundred thalers is much too little." And he +must also promise the peasant something for his trouble. A hundred, two hundred, +three hundred, a hundred times a hundred would not be too much. Oh, how the poor +child was screaming. She could hardly bear to stand outside the door doing +nothing any longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers--a beautiful girl +with untidy hair and three younger brothers--stood with their fingers in their +mouths, their dirty noses unwiped, and did not move from the spot.</p> + +<p class="normal">Their mother spoke to them angrily, "Off with you!" And they +darted off, one almost tumbling over another. They scraped the key out of the +little hole under the door, and the biggest of them thrust it into the rusty +lock, and, standing on her toes, turned it with all the strength of her small +hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the woman turned to the strange lady and gentleman; she +made a gesture of invitation with her thin right hand: "Entrez."</p> + +<p class="normal">They stepped in. It was so low inside that Paul Schlieben had +to bend his head so as not to knock against the beams in the ceiling, and so +dark that it took a considerable time before they could distinguish anything at +all. It could not have been poorer anywhere--one single room in all. The hearth +was formed of unhewn stones roughly put together, above it hung the kettle in an +iron chain that was made fast to the blackened beam; the smoke from the +smouldering peat ascended <span class="pagenum">[Pg 47]</span> into the wide sooty chimney. A couple +of earthenware plates in the plate-rack--cracked but with gay-coloured flowers +on them--a couple of dented pewter vessels, a milk-pail, a wooden tub, a long +bench behind the table, on the table half a loaf of bread and a knife, a few +clothes on some nails, the double bed built half into the wall, in which the +widow no doubt slept with the children now, and little Jean-Pierre's clumsy +wooden cradle in front of it--that was all.</p> + +<p class="normal">Really all? Käte looked round, shivering a little in the cold +dark room that was as damp as a cellar. Oh, how poor and comfortless. There were +no ornaments, nothing to decorate it. Oh yes, there was a glaringly gaudy +picture of the Virgin Mary--a coarse colour-print on thin paper--a vessel for +holy water made of white china beneath it, and there on the other wall close to +the window so that the sparse light fell on it the picture of a soldier. A +framed and glazed picture in three divisions; the same foot-soldier taken three +times. To the left, shouldering his arms, on guard before the black and white +sentry-box--to the right, ready to march with knapsack and cooking utensils +strapped on his back, bread-bag and field-flask at his side, gun at his feet--in +the centre, in full dress uniform as a lance-corporal, with his hand to his +helmet saluting.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was no doubt the man, Michel Solheid as a soldier. Käte +cast a timid glance at the picture--that man had been shot in the Venn whilst +smuggling. How terrible! She heard the old man tell the story once more, saw the +bleeding man lying in the heather, and the horror of his tragic end made her +shudder. Her glance fell on the picture again and again, the usual picture of a +soldier which told nothing whatever in its stereotyped inanity, and then on +little Jean-Pierre's cradle. Did he resemble his father much?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 48]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had expected his wife to speak--she would of +course know best what to say to the other woman--but she was silent. And the +vestryman did not say anything either; as he had started the negotiations he +considered it polite to let the gentleman speak now. And Lisa Solheid was also +silent. All she did was to drive away the children, who wanted to fall upon the +hard bread on the table with ravenous appetites, with a silent gesture. Then she +stood quietly beside the cradle, her right hand, which still held the axe with +which she had cut the wood, hanging loosely by her side. Her face was gloomy, +forbidding, and still a struggle was reflected on it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben cleared his throat. He would have preferred +some other person to have settled the matter for him, but, as this other person +was not there and the vestryman only looked at him expectantly, he was compelled +to speak. With an affability which might have been taken for condescension but +which was nothing but embarrassment he said: "Frau Solheid, the vestryman will +have told you what has brought us to you--do you understand me, my good woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's our intention to take your youngest child away with +us"--he hesitated, for she had made a movement as though she wanted to deny +it--"as our own, to adopt it. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer, but he continued with as much haste as if +she had said yes. "We will treat it as if it really were our own. We shall be +able to do more for it than you would, of course, and we----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, and we'll love it so," his wife broke in.</p> + +<p class="normal">The black-eyed woman turned her head slowly to the side where +the fair-haired lady was standing. It was a peculiar look with which she scanned +the stranger, who <span class="pagenum">[Pg 49]</span> had now approached the +cradle. Was it a scrutinising look or a forbidding one? A friendly or unfriendly +one?</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte looked at the child with longing eyes. It was no longer +crying, it even smiled, and now--now it stretched out its little arms. Oh, it +was already so intelligent, it was looking at her, it noticed already that she +was fond of it. It tried to get up--oh, it wanted to go to her, to her!</p> + +<p class="normal">Her face flushed with joy. She had already stretched out her +hands to take the child, when its mother pushed herself in front of the cradle +like a wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Neni,"<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_49" +href="#ftn_49">[A]</a></sup> she said in Walloon, in a hard voice. She raised +her empty left hand to ward Käte off. And then she made the sign of the cross on +the child's forehead and then on its breast.</p> + +<br> +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_49" href="#ftnRef_49"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>Non.</p></div> +<br> +<br> + +<p class="normal">But why, why would she not give it all at once? Käte trembled +with dismay. She cast an imploring look at her husband, as much as to say: "Help +me. I must have the child."</p> + +<p class="normal">And then her husband said what he wanted to say before when +his wife had cut him short: "We will secure your child's future. Do you know +what that means, my good woman? It will never have to trouble about its daily +bread--never have to hunger. Never have to work to prolong its life--only work +for the pleasure of working. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Work--for the pleasure of working? The woman shook her head, +she did not understand him. But then the words came into her mind: never +hunger!--and a light shone in her dull eyes. Never hunger--ah, the woman +understood that; and still she shook her head again: "Neni!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She pointed to herself and the other children, and then to the +great Venn outside with a comprehensive gesture:</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 50]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Nos avans tortos faim."<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_50a" +href="#ftn_50a">[A]</a></sup> She shrugged her shoulders with the equanimity of +one who is accustomed to it, and it even looked as though she wanted to smile; +the corners of her sullen mouth did not droop quite so much, her lips that were +generally tightly closed showed her strong healthy teeth.</p> + +<p class="normal">The vestryman stepped in now: "'Pon my word, Lisa, to hunger +is surely no pleasure. Good heavens, how can you be so foolish! The child will +be taken from hell to heaven. Remember what I've told you, the lady and +gentleman are rich, very rich, and they are mad on the child--quick, give it to +them, you still have four."</p> + +<p class="normal">Still four! She nodded reflectively, but then she threw her +head back, and a look--now it was plain, something like hatred flickered in +it--flew to the others standing there so rich, so fine, with rings on their +ringers, and at whom her Jean-Pierre was peeping. "Neni!" She repeated it once +more and still more curtly and more obstinately than before.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the vestryman was tenacious, he knew the people he had to +deal with. "You must think it over," he said persuasively. "And they'll give you +a good sum, I tell you--won't you?" he asked, turning to the gentleman. "Haven't +you said you weren't particular to a coin or two in the case of such a poor +woman?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, certainly not," assured Paul. And Käte was too +precipitate again. "It does not matter at all to us--we will gladly give what +she asks--oh, the dear child!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dju n' vous nin,"<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_50b" +href="#ftn_50b">[B]</a></sup> muttered the woman.</p> + +<br> +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_50a" href="#ftnRef_50a"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>Nous avons tous faim.</p></div> + +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_50b" href="#ftnRef_50b"><sup +class="ftnRef">B</sup></a>Je ne veux pas.</p></div> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">"You won't? Oh, nonsense." The old peasant almost laughed at +her. "You are just like my Mayflower when she won't stand, and kicks the +milk-pail with her hind foot. Don't offend the people. What advantage will it be +to you if they grow impatient and <span class="pagenum">[Pg 51]</span> +go away? None at all. Then you will have five who call out for bread, and the +winter is near at hand. Do you want to have such a winter as you had last year? +Didn't Jean-Pierre almost die of cold? The four others are already older, it's +easier to rear them. And you can get a cow for yourself--just think of that, a +cow. And you could have a better roof put on the house, which won't let the rain +and the snow come through, and could have enough cranberries as well. It would +certainly be a good stroke of business, Lisa."</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte wanted to add something more--oh, what a lot of good she +would do the woman, if she would only give the child to her!--but the old man +cleared his throat and winked at her covertly to warn her that she was to be +silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Kubin m'e dinroz--ve?"<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_51" +href="#ftn_51">[A]</a></sup> inquired the woman all at once.</p> + +<br> +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_51" href="#ftnRef_51"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>Combien me donnerez-vous donc?</p></div> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">She had been standing undecided for a long time with her head +bowed, and a deep silence had reigned around her. The strange lady and gentleman +had not moved, nor had the vestryman; no wind had whistled in the chimney, no +fire crackled. A silent expectation weighed on them all. Now she raised her +head, and her gloomy eyes glanced at the miserable room, the small quantity of +bread on the table and then at the hungry four, as though examining everything. +She no longer looked at the fifth child. She had grown pale, the deep sunburn on +her face had turned a greyish colour.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's he going to give you? Well, what will you give her?" +said the peasant encouragingly. "I think you'll see that two hundred is too +little. The woman is very much attached to the child, it will not be easy for +her to give it up." He watched Paul Schlieben out of the corner of his eye, and +called out as they call out at an auction: "Two hundred, two hundred and fifty, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 52]</span> three hundred. 'Pon my word, it isn't too much. Jean-Pierre is a +fine boy--just look at his fists. And his thighs. A splendid fellow." He noticed +the longing expression in Käte's eyes--"Three hundred thalers is not worth +talking about for the boy, is it, ma'am?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had tears in her eyes and was very pale. The air in the +cottage oppressed her, it was all very repugnant to her--let them only get away +quickly from there. But not without the child. "Four hundred--five hundred," she +jerked out, and she gazed imploringly at her husband as though to say: "Do +settle it quickly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Five hundred, willingly." Paul Schlieben drew out his +pocket-book.</p> + +<p class="normal">The peasant craned his neck forward the better to see. His +eyes were quite stiff in his head, he had never seen anybody pay so willingly +before. The children, too, stared with wide-open eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman cast a hasty glance at the notes the gentleman +spread on the table near the bread; but the covetous light that flashed in her +eyes disappeared suddenly again. "Neni," she said sullenly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Offer her some more--more," whispered the old man.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Schlieben laid another couple of notes on the table beside +the others; his fingers trembled a little as he did it, the whole thing was so +unspeakably repugnant to him. He had never thought of haggling; they should have +what they wanted, only let them get done with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nikolas Rocherath could not contain himself any longer at the +sight of such generosity--so much money on the table, and that woman could still +hesitate? He rushed up to her and shook her by the shoulders: "Are you quite +mad? Six hundred thalers on the table and you don't take them? What man here can +say he has six hundred thalers in cash? What money, what a sum of money!" His +emaciated face, which had grown very +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 53]</span> haggard from years of toil and a life lived +in wind and storm and which was as sharply outlined as though cut out of hard +wood, twitched. His fingers moved convulsively: how was it possible that anybody +could still hesitate?</p> + +<p class="normal">The axe which the woman still held fell out of her hand with a +loud noise. Without raising her head, without looking at the table or at the +cradle she said in a loud voice--but there was no ring in the voice: "Allons +bon. Djhan-Pire est da vosse."<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_53" +href="#ftn_53">[A]</a></sup></p> + +<br> +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_53" href="#ftnRef_53"><sup +class="ftnRef">A</sup></a>Eh bien. Jean-Pierre est à vous.</p></div> +<br> +<br> + +<p class="normal">And she turned away, walked to the hearth with a heavy tread +and raked up the smouldering peat.</p> + +<p class="normal">What indifference! This woman certainly did not deserve to be +a mother. Käte's gentle eyes began to blaze. Schlieben was angry too; no, they +need not have any scruples about taking the child away from there. He was filled +with disgust.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman behaved now as though the whole affair did not +concern her any longer. She busied herself at the hearth whilst the vestryman +counted the notes--licking his fingers repeatedly and examining both sides of +each one--and then put them carefully into the envelope which the gentleman had +given him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There they are, Lisa, put them into your pocket."</p> + +<p class="normal">She tore them out of his hand with a violent gesture, and, +lifting up her dress to a good height, she slipped them into her miserable +ragged petticoat.</p> + +<p class="normal">The last thing had still to be settled. Even if Paul Schlieben +felt certain that nobody there would inquire about the child any more, the +formalities had to be observed. Loosening his pencil from his watch-chain--for +where was ink to come from there?--he drew up the mother's deed of surrender on +a leaf from his pocketbook. The vestryman signed it as witness. Then the <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 54]</span> woman put her three crosses below; she had learnt to write once, +but had forgotten it again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There!" Paul Schlieben rose from the hard bench on which he +had sat whilst writing with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, now everything was +settled, now the vestryman had only to procure him the birth and baptismal +certificates and send them to him. "Here--this is my address. And here--this is +for any outlay." He covertly pressed a couple of gold coins into the old man's +hand, who smiled when he felt them there.</p> + +<p class="normal">Well, now they would take the boy with them at once? he +supposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte, who had been standing motionless staring at the mother +with big eyes as though she could not understand what she saw, woke up. Of +course they would take the child with them at once, she would not leave it a +single hour longer there. And she took it quickly out of the cradle, pressed it +caressingly to her bosom and wrapped it up in the warm wide cloak she was +wearing. Now it was her child that she had fought such a hard battle for, had +snatched from thousands of dangers, her darling, her sweet little one.</p> + +<p class="normal">Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers stood there in +silence with eyes wide open. Had they understood that their brother was going +away, going for ever? No, they could not have understood it, otherwise they +would have shown how grieved they were. Their big eyes were only interested in +the bread on the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben pitied the little ones greatly--they would +remain there in their wretchedness, their hunger, their poverty. He stuck a +present into the hands of all four. None of the four thanked him for it, but +their small fingers clasped the money tightly.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman did not thank him either. When the strange lady took +Jean-Pierre out of the cradle--she had <span class="pagenum">[Pg 55]</span> seen +it without looking in that direction--she had started. But now she stood +motionless near the empty cradle, on the spot where the axe had fallen out of +her right hand before with a loud noise, looking on in silence whilst +Jean-Pierre was being wrapped up in the soft cloak. She had nothing to give him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had feared there would be a scene at the very +last in spite of the mother's indifference--she surely could not remain so +totally void of feeling, when they carried her youngest child away with +them?--but the woman remained calm. She stood there motionless, her left hand +pressed against the place in her skirt where she felt the pocket. Did not that +money in her pocket--Paul felt very disturbed--give the lie to all the +traditions about a mother's love? And still--the woman was so demoralised by her +great poverty, half brutalised in the hard struggle for her daily bread, that +even the feeling she had for the child she had borne had vanished. Oh, what a +different mother Käte would be to the child now. And he pushed his wife, who had +the little one in her arms, towards the door, in his tender anxiety for her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Let them only get away, it was not a nice place to be in.</p> + +<p class="normal">They hastened away. Käte turned her head once more when she +reached the threshold. She would have to cast a glance at the woman who remained +behind so stiff and silent. Even if she were incomprehensible to her, a +compassionate glance was her due.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then ... a short cry, but loud, penetrating, terrible in its +brevity, a cry that went through nerve and bone. One single inarticulate cry +that agony and hatred had wrung from her.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman had stooped down. She had snatched up the axe with +which she had chopped the wood. She raised her arm as though to throw +something--the sharp edge flashed past the lady's head as she hurried away, and +buried itself in the door-post with a crash.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 56]</span></p> +<br> +<br><br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">They had hastened away with the child as though they were +running away. They had bundled it into the carriage--quick, quick--the coachman +had whipped up the horses, the wheels had turned round with a creaking noise. +The village in the Venn remained behind them, buried like a bad dream one wants +to forget.</p> + +<p class="normal">A dull grey lay over the Venn. The sun, which had been shining +in the morning, had quite disappeared, as though not a single beam had ever been +seen there. The Venn mist, which rises so suddenly, was there covering +everything. There was a wall now where there had been a wide outlook before. A +wall not of stone and not of bricks, but much stronger. It did not crack, it did +not burst, it did not totter, it did not give way before the hammer wielded by +the strongest hand. It shaped itself out of the morasses, powerful and +impenetrable, and stretched from the moor up to the clouds--or was it the clouds +that had lowered themselves to the earth?</p> + +<p class="normal">The heavens and the Venn, both alike. Nothing but grey, a +tough, damp, cold, liquid and still firm, unfathomable, mysterious, awful grey. +A grey from which those who lose themselves on the moor never find their way +out. The mist is too tenacious. It has arms that grip, that embrace so tightly, +that one can neither see forward nor backward any more, neither to the left nor +to the <span class="pagenum">[Pg 57]</span> right, that the cry that wants to +escape from a throat that is well-nigh choked with terror is drowned, and that +the eye becomes blind to every road, every footprint.</p> + +<p class="normal">The driver cursed and beat his horses. There was nothing more +to be seen of the road, nothing whatever, no ditch at the side of it, no +telegraph poles, no small rowan trees. The broad road that had been made with +such difficulty had disappeared in the grey that enfolded the Venn. It was +fortunate that the horses had not lost their way as yet. They followed their +noses, shook their long tails, neighed shrilly and trotted courageously into the +sea of mist.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte shuddered as she wrapped herself and the child up more +tightly; they required all the warm covering now which they had taken with them +so providently. Her husband packed her up still more securely, and then laid his +arm round her as though to protect her. It was a terrible journey.</p> + +<p class="normal">They had had the carriage closed, but the cold grey forced its +way in notwithstanding. It penetrated through all the crevices, through the +window-panes, filled the space inside so that their faces swam in the damp +twilight like pale spots, and laid itself heavily, obstructively on their +breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte coughed and then trembled. There was no joy in her heart +now, all she felt was terror, terror on account of the possession she had had to +fight so hard to obtain. If the mother were to come after them now--oh, that +terrible woman with the glittering axe. She closed her eyes tightly, full of a +horror she had never felt the like to before--oh, she could not see it again! +And still she opened her eyes wide once more, and felt the cold perspiration on +her brow and her heart trembling--alas, that sight would pursue her even in her +dreams. She would not get rid of it until her last hour--never, never <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 58]</span> +again--she would always see that woman with the glittering axe.</p> + +<p class="normal">It had whizzed close past her head--the draught of air caused +by it had made the hair on her temples tremble. It had done nothing to her, it +had only buried itself in the door-post with a loud noise, splitting it. And +still she had come to harm. Käte pressed both her hands to her temples in +horror: she would never, never get rid of that fear.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her heart was filled with an almost superstitious dread, a +dread as though of a ghost that haunted the place. Let them only get away from +there, never to return. Let them only destroy every trace as they went along. +That woman must never know where they had gone. She knew it was to Berlin--they +had unfortunately given the vestryman their address--but Berlin was so far away, +the woman from the Venn would never come there.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the Venn itself? Ugh! Käte looked out into the grey mist, +trembling with horror. Thank God, that would remain behind, that would soon be +forgotten again. How could she ever have considered this desolate Venn +beautiful? She could not understand it. What charm was there about these +inhospitable plains, on which nothing could grow except the coarse grass and +tough heather? On which no corn waved its spikes, no singing-bird piped its +little song, no happy people lived sociably; where there was, in short, no +brightness, no loud tones, only the silence of the dead and crosses along the +road. It was awful there.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Paul, let us leave to-day--as quickly as possible," she +jerked out, full of terror, whilst her eyes sought in vain for a glimpse of +light.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was quite willing. He felt ill at ease too. If this woman, +this fury, had hit his wife in her sudden outburst <span class="pagenum">[Pg 59]</span> +of rage? But he could not help blaming himself: who had bade him have anything +to do with such people? They were not a match for such barbarous folk.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he was seized with a feeling of aversion for the child +sleeping so peacefully on his wife's arm. He looked gloomily at the little face; +would he ever be able to love it? Would not the memory of its antecedents always +deter him from liking it? Yes, he had been too precipitate. How much better it +would have been if he had dissuaded his wife from her wish, if he had +energetically opposed her romantic idea of adopting this child, this particular +child.</p> + +<p class="normal">He frowned as he looked out of the window, whilst the grey +mist clung to the pane and ran down it in large drops.</p> + +<p class="normal">The wind howled outside; it had risen all at once. And it +howled still louder the nearer they approached the top of the high Venn, whined +round their carriage like an angry dog and hurled itself against the horses' +chests. The horses had to fight against it, to slacken their trot; the carriage +only advanced with difficulty.</p> + +<p class="normal">The child must never, never know from whence it came, as +otherwise--the new father was wrapped in thought as he stared into the Venn, +whose wall of mist was now and then torn asunder by a furious gust of wind--as +otherwise--what was he going to say? He passed his hand over his brow and drew +his breath heavily. Something like fear crept over him, but he did not know why.</p> + +<p class="normal">As he cast a look at his wife, he saw that she was quite +absorbed in the contemplation of the sleeping child, which did not lessen his +ill humour. He drew away her right hand, with which she was supporting its head +that had fallen back: "Don't do that, don't tire yourself like that. It will +sleep on even without that." And as she gave an anxious "Hush!" terrified at the +thought <span class="pagenum">[Pg 60]</span> that the little sleeper might have +been disturbed, he said emphatically, "I must tell you one thing, my child, and +must warn you against it, don't give him your whole heart at once--wait a little +first."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why?" Something in his voice struck her and she looked at him +in surprise. "Why do you say that so--so--well, as if you were vexed?" Then she +laughed in happy forgetfulness. "Do you know--yes, it was horrible, awful in +those surroundings--but thank God, now it's over. A mother forgets all she has +suffered at the birth of her child so quickly--why should I not forget those +horrors to-day too? Do look"--and she stroked little Jean-Pierre's warm rosy +cheek carefully and caressingly as he slept--"how innocent, how lovely. I am so +happy. Come, do be happy too, Paul, you are generally so very kind. And now +let's think about what we are to call the boy"--her voice was very tender--"our +boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">They no longer heard the wind that had increased to a storm by +now. They had so much to consider. "Jean-Pierre," no, that name should not be +kept in any case. And they would go from Spa to Cologne that evening, as they +would not dare to engage a nurse before they were there; not a single person +there would have any idea about the Venn, of course. And they would also buy all +the things they required for the child in Cologne as soon as possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">How were they to get on until then? Paul looked at his wife +quite anxiously: she knew nothing whatever about little children. But she +laughed at him and gave herself airs: when Providence gives you something to do, +it also gives you the necessary understanding. And this little darling was so +good, he had not uttered a sound since they left. He had slept the whole time as +though there was nothing called hunger or thirst, as though there <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 61]</span> was nothing but her heart on which he felt quite at ease.</p> + +<p class="normal">It gradually became more comfortable in the carriage. It +seemed as though a beneficial warmth streamed forth from the child's body, as it +rested there so quietly. The breath of life ascended from its strong little +chest that rose and fell so regularly; the joy of life glowed in its cheeks that +were growing redder and redder; the blessings of life dropped from those tiny +hands that it had clenched in its sleep. The woman mused in silence and with +bated breath as she gazed at the child in her lap, and the man, who felt +strangely moved, took its tiny fist in his large hand and examined it, smiling. +Yes, now they were parents.</p> + +<p class="normal">But outside the carriage the air was full of horrors. It is +only in the wild Venn that there can be such storms in autumn. Summer does not +depart gently and sadly there, winter does not approach with soft, stealthy +steps, there is no mild preparatory transition. The bad weather sets in noisily +there, and the warmth of summer changes suddenly into the icy cold of winter. +The storm whistles so fiercely across the brown plateau that the low heather +bends still lower and the small juniper trees make themselves still smaller. The +wind in the Venn chases along whistling and shrieking, clamouring and howling, +pries into the quagmires and turf pits, whips up the muddy puddles, throws +itself forcibly into the thickets of fir trees that have just been replanted, so +that they groan and moan and creak as they cower, and then rages on round the +weather-worn crosses.</p> + +<p class="normal">The blast roars across the moor like the sound of an organ or +is it like the roar of the foaming breakers? No, there is no water there that +rises and falls and washes the beach with its white waves, there is nothing but +the Venn; but it resembles the sea in its wide expanse. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 62]</span> And its +air is as strong as the air that blows from the sea, and the shrill scream of +its birds is like the scream of the sea-mew, and nature plays--here as +there--the song of her omnipotence on the organ of the storm with powerful +touch.</p> + +<p class="normal">The small carriage crept over the top of the high Venn. The +winds wanted to blow it down, as though it were a tiny beetle. They hurled +themselves against it, more and more furiously, yelped and howled as though they +were wolves, whined round its wheels, snuffed round its sides, made a stand +against it in front and tugged at it from behind as though with greedy teeth: +away with it! And away with those sitting inside it! Those intruders, those +thieves, they were taking something away with them that belonged to the Venn, to +the great Venn alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a struggle. Although the driver lashed away at them the +brave horses shied, then remained standing, snorting with terror. The man was +obliged to jump off and lead them some distance, and still they continued to +tremble.</p> + +<p class="normal">Something rose out of the pits and beckoned with waving gauzy +garments, and tried to hold fast with moist arms. There was a snatching, a +catching, a reaching, a tearing asunder of mists and a treacherous rolling +together again, a chaos of whirling, twirling, brewing grey vapours; and +plaintive tones from beings that could not be seen.</p> + +<p class="normal">Had all those in the graves come to life again? Were those +rising who had slept there, wakened by the snorting of the horses and the crack +of the whip, indignant at being disturbed in their rest? What were those sounds?</p> + +<p class="normal">The quiet Venn had become alive. Piercing sounds and whistling +shrill cries and groaning and the flapping <span class="pagenum">[Pg 63]</span> +of wings and indignant screams mingled with the dull roar of the organ of the +storm.</p> + +<p class="normal">A flight of birds swam through the sea of mist. They rowed to +the right, they rowed to the left, looked down uneasily at the strange carriage, +remained poised above it for some moments with wings spread out ready to strike +it to the ground, and then uttered their cry, the startled, penetrating cry of a +wild bird. There was nothing triumphant about it to-day--it sounded like a +lamentation.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the Venn wept. Large drops fell from the mist. The mist +itself turned into tears, to slowly falling and then to rushing, streaming, +never-ending tears.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 64]</span></p> + +<br> +<br><br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">The Schliebens had reached Berlin safely. Käte was exhausted +when she got out of the train; her hair was untidy, she did not look quite so +smart as usual. It had been no trifle to make that long journey with the child. +But they had been fortunate hi finding a good nurse so quickly in Cologne--a +widow, fond of children and experienced, a typical, comfortable-looking nurse; +however, the mother had had enough to see to all the same. Had the child caught +cold, or did it not like its bottle? It had cried with all the strength of its +lungs--no carrying about, rocking, dandling, singing to it had been of any +avail--it had cried with all its might the whole way to Berlin.</p> + +<p class="normal">But, thank goodness, now they were at home. And everything was +arranged as quickly as if by magic. True, the comfortable house they had had +before was let, but there was villa after villa in the Grunewald, and, as they +required so much more room now, they moved into one of those. They rented it to +begin with. Later on they would no doubt buy it, as it was quite impossible to +take a child like this one into a town. It would have to have a garden.</p> + +<p class="normal">They called him Wolfgang. "Wolf" had something so concise, +vigorous, energetic about it, and--Käte gave a slight happy shudder as she +thought of it--it <span class="pagenum">[Pg 65]</span> was like a secret memory +of the Venn, of that desolate spot over which they had triumphed, and to which +they made only this slight concession. And did not "Wölfchen"--if they made that +the diminutive of Wolf--sound extremely affectionate?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen"--the young mother said it about a hundred times +every day.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young mother? Oh yes, Käte felt young. Her child had made +her young again, quite young. Nobody would have taken her for thirty-five, and +she herself least of all. How she could run, how she could fly upstairs when +they said: "The child is awake. It's screaming for its bottle."</p> + +<p class="normal">She, who had formerly spent so many hours on the sofa, never +found a moment's time to lie down the whole day; she slept all the more soundly +at night as a result. It was quite true what she had heard other women say: a +little child claims its mother's whole attention. Oh, how empty, colourless +those days had been in which she had only existed. It was only now that there +was meaning, warmth, brilliancy in her life.</p> + +<p class="normal">She walked every day beside the child's perambulator, which +the nurse pushed, and it was a special pleasure to her to wheel the light little +carriage with its white lacquer, gilt buttons and blue silk curtains herself now +and then. How the people stared and turned round when they saw the handsome +perambulator--no, the beautiful child. Her heart beat with pleasure, and when +her flattered ear caught the cries of admiration, "What a fine child!" "How +beautifully dressed!" "What splendid eyes!"--it used to beat even more quickly, +and a feeling of blissful pride took possession of her, so that she walked along +with head erect and eyes beaming with happiness. Everybody took her to be the +mother, of course, the young child's young mother, the beautiful child's +beautiful <span class="pagenum">[Pg 66]</span> mother. How often strangers had +already spoken to her of the likeness: "The exact image of you, Frau Schlieben, +only its hair is darker than yours." Then she had smiled every time and blushed +deeply. She could not tell the people that it really could not resemble her at +all. She hardly remembered herself now that not a drop of her blood flowed in +Wölfchen's veins.</p> + +<p class="normal">It looked at her the first thing when it awoke. Its little bed +with its muslin curtains stood near the nurse's, but its first look was for its +mother and also its last, for nobody knew how to sing it to sleep as well as she +did.</p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"Sleep sound, sweetest child,<br> + Yonder wind howls wild.<br> + Hearken, how the rain makes sprays<br> + And how neighbour's doggie bays.<br> + Doggie has gripped the man forlorn<br> + Has the beggar's tatter torn----"</p> +</div> +<p class="continue">sounded softly and soothingly in the nursery evening after +evening, and little Wolf fell quietly asleep to the sound of it, to the song of +the wind and the rain round defenceless heads, and of beggars whose garments the +dog had torn.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had no longer any cause to complain of his +wife's moods. Everything had changed; her health, too, had become new, as it +were, as though a second life had begun. And he himself? He felt much more +inclination for work now. Now that he had returned to business he felt a +pleasure he had never experienced before when he saw that they were successful +in their new ventures. He had never been enterprising before--what was the good? +He and his wife had ample for all their requirements. Of course he had always +been glad to hear when they had done a good stroke of business, but he could not +say it had ever pleased him to make money. He had always found more pleasure in +spending it.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 67]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">His father had been quite different in that respect. He had +never been so easy-going, and as long as he lived he had always reproached +himself for having let his only son serve as a soldier in a cavalry regiment. +Something of a cavalryman's extravagance had clung to him, which did not exactly +agree with the views of the very respectable well-to-do merchant of the middle +class. And his daughter-in-law? Hm, the old gentleman did not exactly approve of +her either in his heart. She had too much modern stuff in her head, and Paul had +followed her lead entirely. You could be cultured--why not?--and also take an +interest in art without necessarily having so little understanding for the real +things of life.</p> + +<p class="normal">This honest man, this merchant of the old stamp and true son +of Berlin, had not had the joy of seeing what his partners now saw with +unbounded astonishment. They had no need to shrug their shoulders at the man's +lack of interest in the business any longer, and make pointed remarks about the +wife who took up his attention so entirely; now he felt the interest they wished +him to have. He was pleased to fall in with their plans now. He himself seemed +to want, nay, even found it necessary to form new connections, to extend the +calm routine of their business right and left, on all sides. He showed a +capacity for business and became practical all at once. And in the middle of his +calculations, whilst sitting absorbed at his desk, he would catch himself +thinking: "that will be of use to the boy in the future." But at times this +thought could irritate him so much that he would throw down his pen and jump up +angrily from his desk: no, he had only adopted the child to please his wife, he +would not love him.</p> + +<p class="normal">And yet when he came home to dinner on those delightful +afternoons, on which he could smell the pines round <span class="pagenum">[Pg +68]</span> his house and the pure air still more increased the appetite he had +got from his strenuous work, and the boy would toddle up to him patting his +little stomach and cry: "Daddy--eat--taste good," and Käte appear at the window, +laughing, he could not refrain from swinging the hungry little chatterbox high +up into the air, and only put him down on his feet again after he had given him +a friendly slap. He was a splendid little chap, and always hungry. Well, he +would always have sufficient to eat, thank God.</p> + +<p class="normal">A certain feeling of contentment would come over the man on +those occasions. He felt now what he had never felt before, that one's own home +means happiness. And he felt the benefit of having an assured income, that +allowed him to enrich his life with all sorts of comforts. The house was pretty. +But when he bought it shortly he would certainly add to it, and buy the piece of +ground next to it as well. It would be extremely disagreeable if anybody settled +down just under their noses.</p> + +<p class="normal">It had been difficult for Paul to make up his mind to take a +house in the Grunewald at the time, after he had lived in Berlin itself as long +as he could remember. But now he looked upon his wife's idea of going out there +as a very good one. And not only for the child's sake. One enjoyed one's home in +quite a different manner out there; one realised much more what it meant to have +a home. And how much healthier it was--one's appetite certainly became enormous. +In time one would think of nothing but material comforts. And the man followed +the hungry boy into the house, as he also felt quite ready for his dinner.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang Solheid, called Schlieben, received his first +trousers. It was a grand day for the whole house. Käte had him photographed in +secret, as there had never <span class="pagenum">[Pg 69]</span> been a boy who +looked prettier in his first trousers. And she placed the picture of the little +fellow who was not yet three years old--white trousers, white pleated tunic, +horse under his arm, whip in his hand--in the middle of her husband's birthday +table, surrounded by a wreath of roses. That was the best she could give him +among all the many presents. How robust Wölfchen was. They had not noticed it so +much before; he was as big as a boy of four. And how defiant he looked, as bold +as a boy of five, who is already dreaming of fighting other boys.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman showed the man the picture full of delight, and +there was such a gleam in her eyes that he felt very happy. He thanked her many +times for the surprise and kissed her: yes, this picture should stand near hers +on his writing-table. And then they both played with the boy, who romped about +on the carpet in his first pair of trousers, which he still found rather +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben could not remember ever having spent such a +pleasant birthday as this one. There was so much brightness around him, so much +merriment. And even if Wolf had torn his first pair of trousers by noon--how and +where it had been done was quite incomprehensible to the dismayed nurse--that +did not disturb the birthday; on the contrary, the laughter became all the +gayer. "Tear your trousers, my boy, tear away," whispered his mother, smiling to +herself as the damage was pointed out to her, "just you be happy and strong."</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a party in the evening. The windows of the pretty +villa were lighted up and the garden as well. The air was balmy, the pines +spread their branches motionless under the starry sky, and bright coloured +lanterns glittered in the bushes and along the paths that were overgrown with +trees like large glow-worms.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wölfchen was asleep on the first floor of the villa, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 70]</span> in the only room that was not brightly lighted up. There was +nothing but a hanging lamp of opal there, and every noise was kept away by thick +curtains and Venetian blinds. But they drank his health downstairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">The guests had already drunk the health of the master of the +house at the table, and then that of his amiable wife--what greater honour could +they pay their popular host and hostess now than to drink the health of the +boy--their boy?</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Hofmann, the tried doctor and friend of the family for +many years, asked if he might have the privilege of saying a few words. He, as +doctor, as counsellor on many an occasion, was best able to say what had always +been wanting there. Everything had been there, love and complete understanding +and also outward happiness, everything except--here he paused for a moment and +nodded to his hostess who was sitting opposite to him, in a friendly manner full +of comprehension--except a child's laughter. And now that was there too.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A child's laughter--oh, what a salvation!" he cried with +twinkling eyes and voice full of emotion, as he thought of his own three, who +were certainly already independent and had chosen their paths in life, but their +laughter still sounded in his heart and ear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No child--no happiness. But a child brings happiness, great +happiness. And especially in this case. For I, as a doctor, have hardly ever +feasted my eyes on a more magnificent chest, a more splendidly developed skull, +straighter legs and brighter eyes. All his senses are sharp; the lad hears like +a lynx, sees like a falcon, smells like a stag, feels--well, I've been told that +he is already up in arms against the slightest corporal punishment. It is only +his taste that is not so finely developed as yet--the boy eats everything. +However, this is again a new proof to me of his very great physical <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 71]</span> superiority, for, ladies and gentlemen"--at this point the doctor +gave a jovial wink--"who does not agree with me? a good stomach that can stand +everything is the greatest gift a kind Providence can give us on our journey +through life. The boy is a favourite of fortune. A favourite of fortune in the +two-fold meaning of the word for not only is he perfectly happy in himself, but +his entry on the scene has also brought happiness to those around him. Our dear +hostess, for example, have we ever seen her like this before? So young with +those who are young, so happy with those who are happy? And our honoured friend +here--nobody could imagine that he had climbed to the middle of the forties--he +is as full of energy, of plans and enterprise as a man of twenty. And at the +same time he has the beautiful calm, the comfortable appearance of the happy +father who has had his desires gratified. And this fortunate boy is the cause of +it all. Therefore thanks be to the hour that gave him, the wind that brought him +here. From whence----?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor, who had a small vein of malice in his nature, here +made a pause intentionally, cleared his throat and straightened his waistcoat, +for he saw many curious eyes fixed on him full of expectation. But he also saw +the quick perturbed look the husband and wife exchanged, saw that Frau Schlieben +had grown pale and was hanging anxiously, almost imploringly, on his lips, so he +continued hastily with a good-natured laugh: "From whence, ladies--only have +patience. I'll tell you now: he fell from the skies. Just as the falling star +falls to earth on a summer night. And our dear hostess, who was just going for a +walk, held out her apron and carried him home to her house. And so he has become +the star of this house, and we all and I especially--even if I have become +superfluous here in my capacity <span class="pagenum">[Pg 72]</span> of doctor--are pleased with him +without asking from whence he came. All good gifts come from above--we learnt +that already in our childhood--so here's to the health of the boy who fell down +to our friends from the sky."</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor had grown serious, there was a certain solemnity +about him as he raised his champagne glass and emptied it: "God bless him! To +the health of the child, the son of the house. May this fortunate lad grow, +thrive and prosper."</p> + +<p class="normal">The finely cut glasses gave a clear and melodious sound as +they clinked them. There was a buzzing, laughter and cheering at the table, so +that the little fellow upstairs in his bed began to toss about restlessly. He +murmured impatiently in his sleep, pouted and lowered his brow.</p> + +<p class="normal">The chairs were moved downstairs. The guests had risen, and, +going up to the parents, had shaken hands with them as though to congratulate +them. Dr. Hofmann had done that really very nicely, really exceedingly well. But +the little fellow was awfully sweet. All the women present agreed they had +rarely seen such a pretty child.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte's heart had beaten a little anxiously when the doctor +commenced to speak--surely he would not betray what had only been confided to +him and the lawyer under the influence of a good glass of wine and a good +dinner?--but it was now full of happiness. Her eyes sought her husband's, and +sent him tender, grateful glances covertly. And then she went to their old +friend, the doctor, and thanked him for all his good, kind words. "Also in +Wölfchen's name," she said in a soft, cordial voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you are satisfied with me all the same? Well, I'm glad." +He drew her arm into his and walked up <span class="pagenum">[Pg 73]</span> and +down with her somewhat apart from the others. "I saw, my dear lady, that you +grew uneasy when I began about the boy's antecedents. What kind of an opinion +can you have of me? But I did so intentionally, I have been burning to find an +opportunity to say what I did for a long time. Believe me, if I got a +two-shilling bit every time I've been questioned about the boy's +parentage--either openly or in a roundabout way--I should be a well-to-do man by +now. I've often felt annoyed at the questions; what I said just now was the +answer to them all. I trust they have understood it. They can keep their +surmises to themselves in the future."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surmises?" Käte knit her brows and pressed the doctor's arm. +What did those people surmise?--did they already know something, did they guess +about the Venn? She was seized with a sudden terror. Pictures passed before her +mental vision with lightning speed--there in that bright festive room--dark +pictures of which she did not want to know anything more.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How terrible," she said in a low voice that quivered. If the +people got to know anything, oh, then she did not put her thought into words, +for the sudden dread was almost choking her--then they would not get rid of the +past. Then that woman would come and demand her right, and could not be shaken +off any more. "Do you think," she whispered hesitatingly, "do you think +they--they guess--the truth?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh no, they're very far off the mark," laughed the doctor, +but then he grew grave again directly. "My dear lady, let us leave those people +and their surmises alone." Oh dear, now he had meddled with a delicate subject, +he felt quite hot--what if she knew that they thought that her Paul, that most +faithful of husbands, had duties of a special kind towards the child?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Surmises--oh, what is it they surmise?" She <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 74]</span> urged him to tell her, whilst her eyes scrutinised his, full of +terror.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nonsense," he said curtly. "Why do you want to trouble about +that? But I told you and your husband that at once. If you make such a secret of +the boy's parentage, all kinds of interpretations will be placed on it. Well, +you would not hear of anything else."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No." Käte closed her eyes and gave a slight shudder. "He's +our child--our child alone," she said with a strange hardness in her voice. "And +nobody else has anything to do with him."</p> + +<p class="normal">He shook his head and looked at her questioningly, surprised +at her tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she jerked out: "I'm afraid."</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt how the hand that was lying on his arm trembled +slightly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Amid the gaiety of the evening something had fallen on Käte's +joy that paralysed it, as it were. Many questions were asked her about little +Wolf--that was so natural, they showed her their friendly interest by means of +these questions--and they watched her quietly at the same time: it was +marvellous how she behaved. They had hardly believed the delicate woman capable +of such heroism. How much she must love her husband, that she took his +child--for the boy must be his child, the resemblance was too marked, exactly +the same features, the same dark hair--this child of a weak hour to her heart +without showing any ill-will or jealousy. She, the childless woman, to take +another woman's child. That was grand, almost too grand. They did not understand +it quite.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Käte felt instinctively that there was something concealed +behind the questions they asked her--was it admiration or compassion, approval +or disapproval?--something one could not get hold of, not even name, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 75]</span> only suspect. And that embarrassed her. So she only gave reserved +answers to their friendly questions about Wölfchen, was concise in what she told +them, cool in her tone, and still she could not hinder her voice vibrating +secretly. That was the tender happiness she felt, the mother's pride she could +not suppress, the warmth of her feelings, which lent her voice its undertone of +emotion. The others took if for quite a different emotion.</p> + +<p class="normal">The ladies, who took a walk in the garden after the dinner was +over, were chatting confidentially together. The paths that smelt of the pines +and in which the coloured lanterns gave a gentle subdued light were just +suitable for that. They wandered about in twos and threes, arm in arm, and first +of all looked carefully to see if there were any listeners, for their hostess +must on no account hear it. There was hardly one among the ladies who had not +made her observations. How well she bore up. It was really pathetic to see how +resentment and affection, dislike and warmth struggled to get the mastery as +soon as there was any talk about the child. And how a restless look would steal +into her bright eyes--ah, she must have had and still have much to contend with, +poor thing.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was only one lady there who said she had known Paul +Schlieben much too long and well not to feel sure that it was ridiculous--nay, +even monstrous--to suppose he would do such a thing. He who was always such a +perfect gentleman, not only in his outward behaviour and appearance but also in +his thoughts, he, the most faithful of husbands, who even now, after a long +married life, was as much in love with his wife as though they had just been +married. The thing was quite different. They had always wished for children, +what was more natural than that they should adopt one, now that they <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 76]</span> had finally given up all hope? Did not other people do the same?</p> + +<p class="normal">Of course that happened, there was no doubt about it. But then +the particulars were always given as to whether it was an orphan or the +illegitimate offspring of some one moving in the highest circles, whether it had +been offered in the newspaper--"to be given away to noble-minded people"--or +whether it was the child of a girl who had been left in the lurch or the +unwished-for child of parents belonging to the labouring classes, who had +already been too richly blessed with children, and so on. Something at least was +always known about it. But in this case why was such a secret made of it? Why +did they not say openly: we have got it from there or there, it happened in such +and such a manner?</p> + +<p class="normal">It was difficult to question Frau Schlieben quite openly about +the little one's parentage. They had already gone to her once with that +intention, but as soon as they had introduced the subject such a terrified +expression had come into the woman's eyes, something so shy and reserved into +her manner, that it would have been more than tactless to continue the +conversation. They were compelled to desist from questioning her--but it was +peculiar, very peculiar.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the gentlemen in the smoking-room, whom the host had left +alone for a moment, discussed the same theme. The doctor was catechised.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I say, doctor, your speech was excellent, worthy of a +diplomatist, but you can't deceive us. You don't know anything about the little +chap's antecedents either? Now come!" It especially puzzled both partners that +Schlieben had told them so little. When everything under the sun was discussed +in business, one had also a certain right to know the man's private affairs too, +especially as they had already worked with the old <span class="pagenum">[Pg 77]</span> +gentleman. Where would Paul have been now, if they two had not safeguarded his +interests so energetically at the time when he put everything else before +business? Herr Meier, who was already elderly and very corpulent, and whose +good-natured, intelligent face bore signs of his fondness for a glass of wine, +felt really very hurt at such a want of confidence: "As though we should have +placed any difficulties in the way--absurd! Doctor, just tell us one thing. Did +he get the boy here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">But the other partner, Herr Bormann, who was somewhat choleric +and had to go to Carlsbad every year, interrupted him sharply. "Well, really, +Meier! And what's it to us? They say they have brought him with them from their +last journey, when they were away so long--good. Where were they last? They went +from Switzerland to the Black Forest and then to Spa, didn't they?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, to the North Sea," said the doctor quietly. "You can see +it as well, the boy has quite the Frisian type."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That boy? With his black eyes?" No, there was nothing to be +got out of Hofmann. He looked so innocent that you might have thought he was +speaking seriously instead of joking. Aha, he had taken his stand; he had made +up his mind not to say anything. They would have to let the subject drop.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor, who had already taxed himself with stupidity in +his heart--oh dear, now he had aroused everybody's curiosity instead of helping +the Schliebens--heard the gentlemen pass on to politics with great relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was midnight before the last guests left the villa. Their +bright talk and laughter could still be heard distinctly from the end of the +street in the silence of the night, as husband and wife met at the foot of the +stairs leading up to the first floor.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 78]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">All the windows of the lower rooms were still open, the silver +was still on the table, the costly china stood about--let the servants put it +away for the time being. Käte felt a great longing to see the child. She had +seen so little of him that day--there had been visitors the whole day. And then +what a number of questions she had had to listen to, what a number of answers +she had had to give. Her head was burning.</p> + +<p class="normal">As she and her husband met--the man was hurrying out of his +room, he had not even given himself time to lock away the cigars--she had to +laugh: aha, he wanted to go upstairs too. She hung on his arm and they went up +together keeping step.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To Wölfchen," she said softly, pressing his arm. And he said, +as though excusing himself: "I shall have to see if the noise has not awakened +the boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">They spoke in an undertone and moved along cautiously like +thieves. They stole into the nursery--there he lay, so quietly. He had thrown +off the covering in his sleep so that his naked rosy little legs were visible, +and a warm, strong and wonderfully fresh smell ascended from the child's clean +healthy body and mingled with the powerful odour of the pines, that the night +sent into the room through the slightly open window.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte could not restrain herself, she bent down and kissed the +little knee that showed dimples in its firm roundness. As she looked up again, +she saw her husband's eyes fixed on the sleeping child with a thoughtful +expression.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was so used to knowing everything that affected him, that +she asked, "What are you thinking of, Paul? Does anything trouble you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked at her absently for a few moments and then past her; +he was so lost in thought that he had not heard her question at all. At last he +murmured, "I <span class="pagenum">[Pg 79]</span> wonder if it would not be +better to be open about it? Hm." Then he shook his head and thoughtfully stroked +his beard into a point.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are you saying? What do you mean? Paul!" She laid her +hand on his.</p> + +<p class="normal">That aroused him. He smiled at her and said then: "Käte, we +must tell people the truth. Why shouldn't we say where he comes from? Yes, yes, +it's much better, otherwise I fear we shall have a good deal of unpleasantness. +And if the boy does find out in good time that he is not really our child--I +mean our own child--what does it matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good gracious!" She threw up her hands as though horrified. +"No--not for the world--no! Never, never!" She sank down on the bed, spread both +her arms over the child's body as though protecting it, and nestled her head on +the warm little breast. "Then he would be lost to us, Paul."</p> + +<p class="normal">She took a deep breath and trembled. Her voice expressed such +horror, such a terrible fear and prophetic gravity that it startled the man.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I only thought--I mean--I have really long felt it to be my +duty," he said hesitatingly, as though making a stand against her fear. "I don't +like that the--that people--well, that they talk. Don't be so funny about it, +Käte; why shouldn't we tell?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not tell! You ask why we shouldn't tell? Paul, you know that +yourself. If he gets to know it--oh, that mother! that Venn!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She clasped the boy even more tightly; but she had raised her +head from his breast. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked quite bewildered as +they stared at her husband. "Have you forgotten her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her tremulous voice grew hard. "No, he must never know it. And +I swear it and you must promise me it as <span class="pagenum">[Pg 80]</span> +well, promise it sacredly now, here at his bedside whilst he's sleeping +peacefully--and if I should die, not then either, Paul"--her voice grew louder +and louder in her excitement, and its hard tone became almost a scream--"we'll +never tell him it. And I won't give him up. He's my child <i>alone</i>, our +child alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then her voice changed. "Wölfchen, my Wölfchen, surely you'll +never leave your mother?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her tears began to stream now, and whilst she wept she kissed +the child so passionately, so fervently that he awoke. But he did not cry as he +generally did when he was disturbed in his sleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled and, throwing both his little arms round her neck as +she bent down to him, he said, still heavy with sleep, but yet clearly, plainly, +"Mammy."</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave a cry of rapture, of triumphant joy. "Do you hear it? +He says 'Mammy.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">She laughed and cried at the same time in her excessive joy, +and caught hold of her husband's hand and held it fast. "Paul--daddy--come, give +our child a kiss as well."</p> + +<p class="normal">And the man also bent down. His wife threw her arm round his +neck and drew his head still further down quite close to hers. Then the child +laid the one arm round his neck and the other round hers.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were all three so close to each other in that calm summer +night, in which all the stars were gleaming and the moonbeams building silver +bridges from the peaceful heavens down to the peaceful earth.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 81]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Those were days of the purest happiness at the Schliebens'. +The villa had been bought now, some rooms had been built on to it, and another +piece of land had been added to the garden as a play-ground. They could not +think of not giving the boy sufficient space to romp about in. Some sand was +brought there, a heap as high as a dune in which to dig. And when he was big +enough to do gymnastics they got him a swing and horizontal and parallel bars.</p> + +<p class="normal">But still it was not sufficient. He climbed over all the +fences round the neighbouring villas, over all the walls that were protected by +barbed wire and pieces of glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A splendid lad," said Dr. Hofmann when he spoke <i>of</i> +Wolfgang. When he spoke <i>to</i> him he certainly said: "What a little ruffian +you are! Just you wait till you go to school and they'll soon teach you to sit +still."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolf was wild--rather too wild, his mother considered. The +boy's high spirits amused her husband: that was because there was such a large +amount of surplus energy in him. But Käte felt somewhat surprised at so much +wildness--no, she was not really surprised, she knew too well where all that +wildness came from; it frightened her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not scold him when he tore his trousers--oh, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 82]</span> they could be replaced--but when he came home with the first hole +in his head she became incredibly agitated. She scolded him angrily, she became +unjust. She was quite unable to stop the blood--ugh, how it ran!--she felt as if +she were going to have a fit; she dragged herself into her room with difficulty +and remained sitting silently in a corner, her eyes staring into space.</p> + +<p class="normal">When her husband reproached her for exaggerating in that +manner, she never answered a word. Then he comforted her: she could feel quite +easy now, the thing was of no moment, the hole was sewn up and the lad as happy +as though it had never happened.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she shuddered nervously and her cheeks were pale. Oh, if +Paul knew what she had been thinking of, was forced to think of the whole time! +How strange that the same memory did not obtrude itself on him. Oh, Michel +Solheid had laid bleeding on the Venn--blood had dripped on the ground to-day as +on that day. The little boy had not complained, just as little as his--she +fought against using the word even in her thoughts--as his father, as Michel +Solheid had complained. And still the red blood had gushed out as though it were +a spring. How much more natural it would have been for him to have cried. Did +Wolf feel differently from other children?</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte went through the list of her acquaintances; there was not +a single child that would not have cried if he had got such a wound, and he +would not have been considered a coward on that account. There was no doubt +about it, Wölfchen was less sensitive. Not only more insensible to bodily pain, +no--and she thought she had noticed it several times--also more insensible to +emotion. Even in the case of joy. Did not other children show their happiness by +clapping their hands and shouting? Did not they dance round the thing <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 83]</span> they wanted--the toy, the doll, the cake--with shouts of delight? +He only held out his hand for it in silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">He took it because he had been told to do so, without all the +childish chatter, without the rapturous delight that makes it so attractive and +satisfactory to give children gifts.</p> + +<p class="normal">"As a peasant," her husband used to say. That cut her to the +quick every time he said it. Was Wölfchen really made of such different +material? No, Paul must not say "peasant." Wölfchen was not stupid, only perhaps +a little slow in thinking, and he was shrewd enough. He had not been born in a +large town, that was it; where they lived now was just like the country.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You peasant!" The next time his father said it--it was said +in praise and not to blame him, because he was pleased the boy kept his little +garden so well--Käte flew into a passion. Why? Her husband did not understand +the reason for it. Why should he not be pleased? Had not the boy put a splendid +fence round his garden? He had made a palisade of hazel-sticks into which he had +woven flexible willow-twigs, and then he had covered the whole with pine +branches to make it close. And he had put beans and peas in his garden, which he +had begged the cook to give him; and now he meant to plant potatoes there as +well. Had anybody told him how to do it? No, nobody. The first-rate cook and the +housemaid were both from a town, what did they know about sowing peas and +planting potatoes?</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's a born farmer," said the father laughing.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the mother turned away as though in pain. She would much, +much rather have seen her son's garden a mass of weeds than that he should +plant, weed and water so busily.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had made him a present of some flowers; but they did not +interest him and he was not so successful <span class="pagenum">[Pg 84]</span> +with them either. There was only a large sunflower that grew and grew. It was +soon as high as the boy, soon even higher, and he often stood in front of it, +his childish face raised, gazing earnestly into its golden disc for quite a long +time.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the sunflower's golden petals withered--then its seeds +ripened instead and were examined every day and finally gathered--Wolfgang went +to school. He was already in his seventh year, and was big and strong; why +should he not learn with other children now?</p> + +<p class="normal">His mother had thought how wonderful it would be to teach him +the rudiments herself, for when she was a young girl with nothing to do at home +and a great wish to continue her studies, she had gone to a training college and +even passed her examination as a teacher with distinction; but--perhaps that was +too long ago, for her strength was not equal to the task. Especially her +patience. He made so little progress, was so exceedingly slow. Was the boy +stupid? No, but dull, very dull. And it often seemed to her as though she were +facing a wall when she spoke to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are much too eager," said her husband. But how on earth +was she to make it clear to him that that was an "A" and that an "O," and how +was she to explain to him that if you put one and one together it makes two +without getting eager? She became excited, she took the ball-frame and counted +the blue and red balls that looked like round beads on a string for the boy. She +got hot and red, almost hoarse, and would have liked to cry with impatience and +discouragement, when Wölfchen sat looking at her with his large eyes without +showing any interest, and still did not know that one bead and one bead more +make two beads after they had worked at it for hours.</p> + +<p class="normal">She saw to her sorrow that she would have to give <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 85]</span> up the lessons. "He'll do better with a master," said her +husband, consolingly. And it was better, although it could not exactly be termed +"good."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was not lazy, but his thoughts were always wandering. +Learning did not interest him. He had other things to think about: would the +last leaves in the garden have fallen when he got home from school at noon? And +would the starling, for whom he had nailed the little box high up in the +pine-tree, come again next spring? It had picked off all the black berries from +the elderberry, and had then gone away screaming; if it did not find any more +elderberries, what would it eat then? And the boy's heart was heavy with +grief--if only he had given it a little bag of berries when it went away.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now the pines in the Grunewald were covered with snow. When +Wolfgang had gone to school that morning, his knapsack on his back, the +housemaid at his side, the white layer had crackled and broken under his boots. +It was very cold. And then he had heard a bird's shriek, that sounded like a +hungry croak. The housemaid thought it was an owl--pooh, what did she know about +it? It was a raven, the hungry beggar in the jet-black coat, like the one in the +primer.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the boy was thinking of it now as he sat on the bench, +staring with big eyes at the blackboard, on which the teacher was writing words +they were to find out. How nice it must be under the pines now. There flew the +raven; brushing the snow off the branches with its black wings, so that it +looked like powder as it fell. Where was he going to fly to? His thoughts flew +far, far away after the raven, as they had done after the starling. The boy's +eyes shone, his chest rose with the deep breath he drew--at that moment the +teacher called to him.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang, are you asleep with your eyes open? What's this?" +The boy gave a start, got red, then pale and knew nothing.</p> + +<p class="normal">The other boys almost died of laughing--"Are you asleep with +your eyes open?"--that had been too funny.</p> + +<p class="normal">The teacher did not punish him, but Wolfgang crept home as +though he had been punished. He had hidden from the housemaid, who always came +to fetch him--no, he would not go with her to-day. He had also run away from his +comrades--let them fight without him today, to-morrow he would throw all the +more snowballs at them.</p> + +<p class="normal">He walked quite alone, turned off from the street and wandered +about aimlessly among the pines. He looked for the raven, but it was far away, +and so he began to run too, run as quickly as he could, and tore the knapsack +off his back with a loud cry, hurling it far from him up into the broad branches +of a pine, so that it hung there and nothing but snow fell down silently in +large lumps. That amused him. He filled both his hands with snow, made hard +balls of it and began to regularly bombard the pine that kept his knapsack a +prisoner. But it did not give it up, and when he had grown hot and red and tired +but very much cheered, he had to go home without his knapsack.</p> + +<p class="normal">The housemaid had been back a long time when he arrived. She +opened the door for him with a red face--she had run so hard after him--and an +angry look. "Hm," she said irritably, "you've been kept, I suppose?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He pushed her aside. "Hold your tongue!" He could not bear her +at that moment, when coming in from outside where everything had been so quiet, +so free.</p> + +<p class="normal">His parents were already at table. His father <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 87]</span> frowned as he looked at him, his mother asked in a voice of +gentle reproach in which there was also a little anxiety: "Where have you been +so long? Lisbeth has been looking for you everywhere."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well?" His father's voice sounded severe.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy did not give any answer, it seemed to him all at once +as though his tongue were paralysed. What should he tell those people sitting +indoors about what he had been doing outside?</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's sure to have been kept at school, ma'am," whispered the +housemaid when she handed the meat. "I'll find it out from the other boys +to-morrow, and tell you about it, ma'am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you!" The boy jumped up; although she had whispered it in +a low voice, he had heard it all the same. His chair fell down behind him with a +crash, and rushing up to the girl with clenched fist he seized hold of her so +roughly that she gave a shrill scream and let the dish fall out of her hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You goose, you goose!" he howled in a loud voice, and wanted +to strike her. His father only pulled him away with difficulty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen!" Käte's fork had fallen out of her hand with a +clatter, and she was staring at her boy with dilated eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid complained bitterly. He was always like that, he was +unbearable, he had said before to her: "Hold your tongue!" No, she could not put +up with it, she would rather leave. And she ran out of the room crying.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was extremely angry. "You are to be civil to +inferiors. You are to be polite to them, just because they have to serve. Do you +hear?" And he seized hold of the boy with a strong hand, laid him across his +knees and gave him the whipping he so well deserved.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 88]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang ground his teeth together and bore the punishment +without uttering a sound and without a tear.</p> + +<p class="normal">But every stroke fell on his mother's heart. She felt as if +she herself had been beaten and severely bruised. When her husband took his +usual rest after the stormy dinner, smoked, read the paper and took a little nap +between whiles, she crept up to the nursery in which the boy had been locked. +Was he crying?</p> + +<p class="normal">She turned the key softly--he was kneeling on the chair near +the window, his nose pressed flat against the pane, looking attentively out at +the snow. He did not notice her at all. Then she went away again cautiously. She +went downstairs again, but her mind was not sufficiently at rest to read in her +room; she crept about the house softly as though she had no peace. Then she +heard Lisbeth say to the cook in the kitchen between the rattling of plates: "I +shall certainly not put up with it. Not from such a rude boy. What has he got to +do here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte stood rigid, overcome by a terror that paralysed her: +what did she know? She became glowing hot and then icy cold. "Not from such a +rude boy--what has he got to do here?" oh, God, was that the way she spoke about +him?</p> + +<p class="normal">She ran up to the nursery; Wölfchen was still kneeling at the +window.</p> + +<p class="normal">No other villa obstructed the view there as yet; from the +window one looked out on a large piece of waste ground, where dandelions and +nettles grew in the sand between hedge mustard in the summer time, but where the +snow lay now, deep and clean, untouched by any footstep. The short winter +evening was already drawing to a close, that white field was the only thing that +still glittered, and it seemed to the mother that the child's face was very wan +in the pale light of the luminous snow.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen," she called softly. And then "Wölfchen, how could +you say 'goose' and 'hold your tongue' to Lisbeth? Oh, for shame! Where did you +get those words from?" Her voice was gentle and sad as she questioned him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he turned round to her, and she saw how his eyes burned. +Something flickered in them, that looked like a terrified, restless longing.</p> + +<p class="normal">She noticed that as well, and quite against all rules of +pedagogy she opened her arms and whispered--after it had escaped from her lips +she did not know herself why she had said it, for he had everything, everything +his heart desired--"You poor child!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And he ran into her arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">They held each other tightly, heart beating against heart. +They were both sad, but neither of them knew the reason why, nor why the other +one was sad.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's not the whipping," he murmured.</p> + +<p class="normal">She stroked his straight hair away from his forehead with her +soft hand; she did not ask him any more questions. For--did not something rise +out of that field covered with snow, hover outside the window and lay its finger +on its lips: "Be quiet, do not ask, do not touch it"?</p> + +<p class="normal">But she remained with the boy and played with him; she felt as +though she ought not to leave him alone to-day. Yes, she must pay still more +attention to him in the future. All at once the thought fell on her heart like a +heavy weight: she had already left him much too much to himself. But then she +consoled herself again: he was still so young, his mind was still a piece of +quite soft wax, which she could mould as she liked. He must never again be +allowed to stand at the window staring out at that desolate field with such +burning eyes. What was he longing for? Was not a <span class="pagenum">[Pg 90]</span> +wealth of love showered on him? And everything else that delights a child's +heart?</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked round his pretty room. Such a quantity of toys were +piled up in it, trains and steamers, tin soldiers and picture books and all the +newest games.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, we'll play," she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was quite ready to do so; she was surprised how quickly he +had forgotten his sorrow. Thank God, he was still quite an innocent, +unsuspecting child. But how restlessly he threw the toys about. "That's stupid," +and "that's tiresome"--nothing really absorbed his attention. She soon felt +quite exhausted with all her proposals and her endeavours to induce him to play +this or that game. She did not think she had been so difficult to satisfy as a +child. She had wanted to get up and go away half a dozen times already--no, she +really could not stand it any longer, she had a frantic headache, it had got on +her nerves, it was certainly much easier to stand at the fire and cook or do +housework than play with a child--but her sense of duty and her love kept her +back every time.</p> + +<p class="normal">She must not leave him alone, for--she felt it with a gloomy +dread--for then somebody else would come and take him away from her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She remained sitting with him, pale and exhausted; he had +tormented her a great deal. At last he found a woolly sheep that had been quite +forgotten in the corner of the toy cupboard, a dilapidated old toy from his +childhood with only three legs left. And he amused himself with that; that +pleased him more than the other costly toys. He sat on the carpet as though he +were quite a little child, held the sheep between his knees and stroked it.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he lay in bed at last, she still sat beside him holding +his hand. She sang the song with which she had so often sung him to sleep:</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 91]</span></p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"Sleep sound, sweetest child,<br> + Yonder wind howls wild.<br> + Hearken, how the rain makes sprays<br> + And how neighbour's doggie bays.<br> + Doggie has gripped the man forlorn,<br> + Has the beggar's tatter torn--"</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">She sang it more and more softly. At last she thought he had +fallen asleep, but then he tore his hand away impatiently: "Stop that song! I'm +not a baby any longer!"</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> +<p class="normal">It was fortunate that there were no street boys in the +Grunewald colony, as Wölfchen would assuredly have played with them; as it was, +his playfellows were only a hall-porter's children. There was certainly no want +of nicer children to play with; school-fellows whose parents lived in similar +villas to theirs used to invite him; and the families in Berlin, with whom the +Schliebens were on friendly terms and who were pleased when their children could +get out to the Grunewald on their holidays, often asked him to come and see them +too.</p> + +<p class="normal">All children liked to come to the shady garden, where Auntie +Käte was always so kind to them. There was always plenty of cakes and fruit and +hoops and balls and croquet and tennis, ninepins and gymnastic appliances. On +sunny afternoons gay laughter and shrieks used to ascend high up into the green +tops of the pines, but--Käte noticed it with surprise--her boy, who was +generally so wild, was the quietest of them all on those occasions. He did not +care for those visits. He did not care for those well-behaved boys in white and +blue sailor-suits, with their fresh faces showing above their dazzling collars; +he never felt really at home with them. He would have preferred to have run away +to a place far away from there, where nobody else went except now and then a +beggar with a <span class="pagenum">[Pg 92]</span> large bag, who would turn +over every bit of paper with his wire hook to see whether something of value had +not been left there the Sunday before. He would have liked to help that man. Or +fill the large bag with pine-cones.</p> + +<p class="normal">But still Wolfgang had some friends. There was Hans +Flebbe--his father was coachman at the banker's, who owned the splendid villa on +the other side of the road and lived in Bellevuestrasse in Berlin in the +winter--and there were also Artur and Frida. But their father was only porter in +a villa that was let out to different families.</p> + +<p class="normal">As soon as these three came home from school, they would stand +outside the Schliebens' villa. They could not be driven away, they would wait +there patiently until Wolfgang joined them.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's like a brother to my Hans," the coachman used to say, +and he would greet him with a specially condescending flick of his whip from his +high seat. And the porter and his wife used to state with much satisfaction: +"Yes, old Schlieben always touches his hat, and she, his lady, also says 'how do +you do?' to us in a very friendly style, but the little one, oh, he's quite +different."</p> + +<p class="normal">Those were wild games the four comrades played together, and +in which Frida was reckoned to be quite a boy: catch, hide and seek, but best of +all, robbers and policemen. How Wolf's eyes sparkled when he, as the robber +captain, gave the policeman, Hans Flebbe, a kick in the stomach, so that he fell +backwards on the ground and lay for a time without moving from pain.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've shot him," he said to his mother proudly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte, who had been called to the window by the noisy shrieks +of the children who were rushing about wildly in the waste field behind the +villa, had beckoned to her boy to come in. He had come unwillingly; but he had <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 93]</span> come. Now he stood breathless before her, and she stroked the +damp hair away from the face that was wet with perspiration: "What a sight you +look! And here--look."</p> + +<p class="normal">She pointed reproachfully to his white blouse that was covered +with dirt. Where in all the world had he made himself so filthy? there were no +real pools there. And his trousers. The right leg was slit open the whole way +down, the left one had a three-cornered hole in the knee.</p> + +<p class="normal">Pooh, that was nothing. He wanted to rush away again, he was +trembling with impatience; his playfellows were crouching behind the bush, they +dared not come out before he, their captain, came back to them. He strove +against the hand that was holding him; but his struggles were of no avail that +time, his father came out of the next room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are to stop here. You ought to feel ashamed of yourself +to resist your mother like that. Off with you, go to your room and prepare your +lessons for tomorrow."</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben spoke sharply. It had made him angry to see how +the boy had striven with hands and feet against his delicate wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You rude boy, I'll teach you how to behave to your mother. +Here"--he seized hold of him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him up to +her--"here, beg her pardon. Kiss your good mother's hand. And promise not to be +so wild again, not to behave like a street-boy. Be quick--well, are you soon +going to do it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The veins on the man's forehead began to swell with anger. +What a stubborn fellow he was. There he stood, his blouse torn open at front so +that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest that was wet with +perspiration--he was not breathing quietly even <span class="pagenum">[Pg 94]</span> +now, he was still panting from the rough game--and looking so wild, so +turbulent, not at all like the child of nice parents. This could not go on any +longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must not tear about like that any more, do you hear?" +said his father severely. "I forbid it. Play other games. You have your garden, +your gymnastic appliances and a hundred things others would envy you. And now +come here, beg your mother's pardon."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy went to his mother. She met him half way, she held out +her hand to him already. He kissed it, he mumbled also, "I won't do it again," +but the man did not hear any repentance in his voice. There was something in the +sullen way he said it that irritated him. And he lost control of himself a +little.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That wasn't an apology. Ask your mother's pardon again--and +distinctly."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy repeated it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And now promise that you will not rush about like that again. +'Dear mother, I promise'--well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Not a word, no promise.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What's the meaning of this?" The man shook the boy, beside +himself with anger. But the boy pressed his lips together. He gave his father an +upward look out of his dark eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman caught the look--oh, God, that was the look!--that +look--the woman's look!</p> + +<p class="normal">She put both her arms round the boy protectingly: "Don't, +don't irritate him." She drew him nearer to her and covered his eyes with her +hands, so that he had to close them, and then she cast an imploring glance at +her husband: "Go, do go."</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben went, but he shook his head angrily.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You'll see what your training will make of the boy." He +raised his hand menacingly once more: "Boy, I tell you, you'll have to obey." +And then he closed the <span class="pagenum">[Pg 95]</span> door behind him--he +could not even have his midday rest undisturbed now.</p> + +<p class="normal">He heard his wife's voice in the next room. It sounded so +gentle and trembled as though with a secret dread. "Wölfchen, Wölfchen, aren't +you my good boy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No answer. Good heavens, had the unfeeling scamp no answer to +give to that question uttered in that tone?</p> + +<p class="normal">Then again the soft trembling voice: "Won't you be my good +boy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">If the boy did not answer now, then--! The blood surged to his +head as he listened against his will, his fingers twitched, he wanted to jump up +and rush in again and--ah, he must have answered now. It was probably nothing +but a silent nod, but Käte's voice sounded intensely happy: "There you see, I +knew you were my good boy, my darling child, my--my----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Hm, it was certainly not necessary for Käte to lavish such +endearing tones on the boy, after he had just been so naughty. And she must have +kissed him, put her arms round him. Her voice had died away in a tender breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben did not hear anything more now; neither the +rustling of her dress nor any other sound--ah, she was probably whispering to +him now. How she spoiled the scamp.</p> + +<p class="normal">But now--somebody was weeping softly. Was that Wolf's hard, +defiant voice? Yes, he was actually crying loudly now, and between his sobs he +jerked out pitifully--you could hardly understand what he was saying: "I had +to--to shoot him--he's the policeman, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">And now everything was quiet again. The man took up his paper +once more, which he had thrown aside before, and commenced to read. But he could +not fix his attention on it, his thoughts wandered obstinately +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 96]</span> again and again to the next room. Had the +scamp come to his senses now? Did he see that he had been naughty? And was not +Käte much too weak? There was nothing to be heard, nothing whatever. But +still--was not that the door that creaked? No, imagination. Everything was +quiet.</p> + +<p class="normal">After waiting a little longer he went into the next room. It +was indeed very quiet there, for Käte was quite alone. She was sitting at the +window, her hands in her lap, pondering. Her thoughts seemed to be far away.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where's the boy?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave a terrified start, and thrust both hands forward as +though to ward off something.</p> + +<p class="normal">He saw now that she was pale. The vexation she had had on +account of the child had probably shaken her a good deal--just let him wait +until he got hold of him, he should do twice as many sums to-day as a +punishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is the boy at his lessons?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She shook her head and got red. "No."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No? Why not?" He looked at her in amazement. "Didn't I tell +him that he was to go to his lessons at once?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You said so. But I told him to run away. Paul, don't be +angry." She saw that he was about to fly into a passion, and laid her hand on +his arm soothingly. "If you love me, leave him. Oh Paul, believe me, do believe +me when I say he can't help it, he must run about, rush about, be out of +doors--he must."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You always have some excuse. Just think of the story of the +knapsack when first he went to school--the rascal had thrown it up into a +pine-tree. If a labourer had not found it by accident and brought it to us, +because he read our name on the primer, we might <span class="pagenum">[Pg 97]</span> +have looked for it for a long time. You excused that--well, that was nothing +very bad--a fit of wantonness--but now you are excusing something quite +different; and everything." The man, who generally yielded to his wife in all +points, grew angry in his grave anxiety. "I implore you, Käte, don't be so +incredibly weak with the boy. Where will it lead to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It will lead him to you and me." She pointed gravely to him +and herself. And then she laid her hand on her heart with an expression of deep +emotion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean? I don't understand you. Please express +yourself a little more clearly, I'm not in a humour to guess riddles."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you can't guess it, you'll not understand it either if I +say it more clearly." She bent her head and then went back to her former seat. +But she was not lost in thought any longer, it seemed to him as if she were +leaning forward to catch the shrill shouts of triumph that rose high above the +roof from the waste field at the back of the house.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You'll never be able to manage the boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh yes, I shall."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course you will, if you let him do exactly what he likes." +The man strode quickly out of the room; his anger was getting the mastery of +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was seriously angry with his wife, perhaps for +the first time in their married life. How could Käte be so unreasonable? take so +little notice of his orders, as though he had never given them--nay, even act in +direct opposition to him? Oh, the rascal was cunning enough, he drew his +conclusions from it already. And if he did not do so as yet, still he felt +instinctively what a support he had in his mother. It was simply incredible how +weak Käte was.</p> + +<p class="normal">His wife's soft sensitive nature, which had attracted <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 98]</span> him to her in the first instance and which had had the same charm +for him all the years they had been married, now seemed exaggerated all at +once--childish. Yes, this timorousness, this everlasting dread of what was over +and done with was childish. They had not heard anything more about the boy's +mother, why then conjure up her shade on all occasions? They had the boy's birth +and baptismal certificates safely in their hands, and the Venn was far away--he +would never see it--why then this constant, tremulous anxiety? There was no +reason whatever for it. They lived in such pleasant surroundings, their +financial position was so sound, Wolf possessed everything that fills and +gladdens a child's heart, that it was real madness for Käte to suppose that he +had a kind of longing for his home. How in the world should he have got that +longing? He had no idea that this was not really his home. It was sad that Käte +was so hypersensitive. She could positively make others nervous as well.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the man passed his hand over his forehead, as though to +drive disagreeable thoughts away with a movement of his hand. He lighted a +cigar. It was an extra fine one to-day, those he generally left for his guests; +he had the feeling that he must have something to help him over an unpleasant +hour. For the thing was unpleasant, really unpleasant and difficult, even if he +hoped in time to solve the question of how to train such a child satisfactorily. +At any rate not as Käte was doing. That was clear to him already.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben sat in the corner of the sofa in his study, +blowing blue rings of smoke into the air. His brows were still knit. He had come +home very tired from the office that day, where there had been all sorts of +complications--quite enough annoyance--he had had to dictate some hurried +letters, had not allowed himself <span class="pagenum">[Pg 99]</span> a moment's +repose, and had hoped to have a pleasant rest at home--but in vain. Strange how +one child can alter the whole household, one's whole life. If the boy had not +been there?... Ah, then he would have had a short peaceful nap by now, stretched +out on the divan with the newspaper in front of his face, and would be going +across to Käte's room for a cosy chat and a cup of coffee, which she prepared +herself so gracefully on the humming Viennese coffee-machine. He had always +liked to sit and watch her slender, well-cared-for hands move about so +noiselessly. It was a pity.</p> + +<p class="normal">He sighed. But then he conquered the feeling: no, one ought +not to wish he were away because of a momentary annoyance. How many happy hours +little Wölfchen had given them. It had been charming to watch his first steps, +to listen to his first connected words. And had not Käte been very happy to have +him--oh, who said <i>been</i> happy?--she was still so. Nothing could be +compared to the boy. And that the hours of cloudless happiness they had had +through him were not so numerous now as formerly was quite natural. He was not +the same little boy any longer, who had taken his first bold run from that +corner over there to this sofa, and had clung to his father's legs rejoicing at +his own daring; that was all. He was now beginning to be an independent person, +a person with wishes of his own, no longer with those that had been inculcated; +he showed a will of his very own. Now he wanted this and now he wanted that, and +no longer what his teachers wanted. But was not that natural? On the whole, when +a child begins to go to school, what a great many changes take place. One would +have to make allowances, even if one did not wish to have one's whole way of +living influenced by it first the parents, then the child.</p> + +<p class="normal" dir="ltr">The man felt how he gradually became calmer. A <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 100]</span> boy--what a compound of wildness, roughness, unrestraint, ay, +unmannerliness is included in that word! And all, all who were now men had once +been boys.</p> + +<p class="normal">His cigar went out; he had forgotten to smoke it. The man +thought of his own boyhood with a strangely gentle feeling not entirely free +from a faint longing. Let him only be honest: had he not also rushed about and +made a terrible noise, dirtied himself, got hot and torn his trousers and been +up to pranks, more than enough pranks?</p> + +<p class="normal">Strange how he all at once remembered some of the severe +lectures he had had given him and the tears he had forced from his mother's +eyes; he also very clearly remembered the whipping he had once got for telling a +lie. His father had said at the time--all at once he seemed to hear his voice, +which had generally sounded anything but solemn, in fact very commonplace, but +which had then been ennobled by the gravity of the situation, echo in the room: +"Boy, I can forgive you everything else except lies." Ah, it had been very +uncomfortable that day in the small office, where his father had leant against +the high wooden desk holding the stick behind his back. He had pushed the little +cap he wore on account of his baldness to one side in his agitation, his +friendly blue eyes had looked at him penetratingly, and at the same time sadly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"One can forgive everything except lies"--well, had the boy, +had Wolfgang told a lie? Certainly not. He had only been naughty, as the best +children are now and then.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man felt ashamed of himself: and he, he had been so +displeased with the boy simply because he had been naughty?</p> + +<p class="normal">He got up from the sofa, threw the remains of his cigar into +the ash-tray and went out to look for Wolfgang.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 101]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He came across the four in the height of the game. They had +lighted a small fire on the waste piece of ground close behind the garden +railing, so that the overhanging bushes in the garden formed a kind of roof over +them.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were crouching close together; they were in camp now. +Frida had some potatoes in her pinafore, which were to be roasted in the ashes; +but the fire would not burn, the twigs only smouldered. Wolfgang lay on his +stomach on the ground, resting on his elbows, and was blowing with all the +strength of his lungs. But it was not enough, the fire would not burn on any +account.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had come up softly, the children had not +noticed him at all in their eagerness. "Won't it burn?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang jerked himself up, and was on his feet in a moment. +He had been red and fresh-looking, but now he grew pale, his frank look fell +timidly, a miserable expression lengthened his round, childish face and made him +look older.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have I to go in?" It sounded pitiful.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man pretended not to hear the question; he had really +intended fetching him in, but all at once he hesitated to say so. It was hard +for the boy to have to go away now before the fire burnt, before the potatoes +were roasted. So he said nothing, but stooped down, and as he was not far enough +down even then he knelt down and blew the fire, that was faintly crackling, with +all the breath he had in his broad chest. Sparks began to leap out at once, and +a small flame shot up and soon turned into a big one.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a shout of glee. Frida hopped about in the circle, +her plaits flying: "It's burning, it's burning!" Artur and Hans chimed in too; +they also hopped from the one foot to the other, clapped their dirty hands and +shouted loudly: "It's burning, it's burning!"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 102]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Be quiet, children." The man was amused at their happiness. +"Bring me some twigs, but very dry ones," he ordered, full of eagerness, too, to +keep alive this still uncertain flame, that now disappeared, now flared up +again. He blew and poked and added more twigs. The wind drove the smoke into his +face so that he had to cough, but he wiped his eyes, that were full of tears, +and did not mind that his trousers got wet green spots from kneeling on the +ground, and that chance passers-by would be greatly surprised to see Herr Paul +Schlieben occupied in that manner. He, too, found it fun now to keep up a fire +for roasting potatoes under the pale, blue autumn sky, in which the white clouds +were scudding along and the twittering swallows flying. He had never known such +a thing--he had always lived in a town--but it was splendid, really splendid.</p> + +<p class="normal">The children brought twigs. Wolfgang took them and broke them +across his knee--crack!--the sticks broke like glass. What a knack the boy had +at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The flames flared up, the little fire emitted an agreeable +warmth; one could warm one's hands at it--ah, that was really very nice.</p> + +<p class="normal">And then the man followed the smoke, which the wind raised +from the field like a light cloud, with his eyes. It seemed grey at first, but +the higher it flew the lighter it became, and the friendly sunshine shone +through it, transforming it. It floated upwards, ever upwards, ever more +immaterial, more intangible, until it flew away entirely--a puff, a whiff.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now it was about time to bury the potatoes; Wolfgang busied +himself with it. They had not poked the fire any more, the flame had sunk down, +but the ashes hid all the heat. The children stood round with wide-open eyes, +quite quiet, almost holding their breath and yet trembling with expectation: +when would the <span class="pagenum">[Pg 103]</span> first potatoes be done? Oh, +did they not smell nice already? They distended their nostrils so as to smell +them. But Paul Schlieben brushed his trousers now and prepared to go away--it +would take too long before the potatoes were ready. He felt something that +resembled regret. But it really would not do for him to stand about any longer; +what would people think of him?</p> + +<p class="normal">He was himself again now. "That's enough now," he said, and he +went away, carefully avoiding the impracticable parts of the field where the +puddles were. Then he heard steps close behind him. He turned round. "Wolf? +Well, what do you want?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy looked at him sadly out of his dark eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you going home too?" There was astonishment in the man's +question--he had not said that the boy was to go with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The pines emitted a splendid smell, you could breathe the air +so freely, so easily, and that pale blue sky with the fleecy white clouds had +something wonderfully clear about it, something that filled the eyes with light. +White threads floated over the countryside, driven from the clean east, and hung +fast to the green branches of the pines, shimmering there like a fairy web. And +the sun was still agreeably warm without burning, and an invigorating pungent +odour streamed from the golden-coloured leaves of the bushes that enclosed the +gardens at the back.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man drew a deep breath; he felt as if he had suddenly +grown ten, twenty--no, thirty years younger. Even more.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, run along," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy looked at him as if he had not quite understood him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Run," he said once more curtly, smiling at the same time.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 104]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Then the boy gave a shout, such a shrill, triumphant shout +that his playfellows, who were crouching round the potato fire, joined in +immediately without knowing why.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a gleam in the dark eyes of the boy, who loved +freedom, the free air and to run about free. He did not say his father had made +him happy, but he drew a deep breath as if a load had fallen off his chest. And +the man noticed something in his face, that was now commencing to grow coarser, +to lose the soft contours of childhood and get the sharp ones of youth, that +made it refined and beautiful.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang flew back across the field as quick as lightning, as +if shot from a tightly strung bow.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man went back into his garden. He opened the gate +cautiously so that it should not creak, and closed it again just as +quietly--Käte need not know where he had been. But she was already standing at +the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something touchingly helpless in her attitude, such +an anxious scrutiny in her eyes--no, she need not look at him like that, he was +not angry with her.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he nodded to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the housemaid asked whether the master did not know where +the young gentleman was--she had had the milk warmed three times already for him +and had run up and downstairs with it--he said in a low voice with an excuse in +the tone: "Oh, that does not matter, Lisbeth. Warm it for a fourth time later +on. It is so healthy for him to be out of doors."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 205]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>BOOK II</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + +<br> + +<br> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<p class="continue">[Blank Page]</p> + +<br> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 207]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">It was Frida Lämke's birthday. "If you may come we are to have +buns with raisins in, but if you mayn't there'll only be rolls like we have +every day," she said to her friend Wolfgang. "Mind you get them to let you +come." It was of most importance to her that Wolfgang came; no differences were +made on account of Flebbe, although he always said he was going to marry her.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Wolfgang teased his mother. "Let me go--why not? I should +like to so much--why mayn't I?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, why not? He had kept dinning this "why not?" into her +ears for the last twenty-four hours; it had quite worn her out. What should she +say to him? that she disliked Frida? But what had the girl done that she had +taken a dislike to her? Nothing. She always curtseyed politely, was always +tidily dressed, had even plaited the blue ribbon into her fair hair with a +certain taste. The parents were also quite respectable people, and still--these +children always hung about the streets, always, both summer and winter. You +could pass their house whenever you liked, those Lämkes were always outside +their door. Was it the life of the streets this snub-nosed girl, who was very +developed for her age, reminded her of? No, he must not go to those people's +house, go down into the atmosphere of the porter's room.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 208]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't wish you to go there," she said. She had not the +heart to say: "I won't allow it," when he looked at her with those beseeching +eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the boy saw his advantage. He felt distinctly: she is +struggling with herself; and he followed it up with cruel pertinacity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me--oh, do let me. I shall be so sorry if I can't. Then I +shan't care to do anything. Why mayn't I? Mammy, I'll love you so, if you'll +only let me go. Do let me--will you? But I will."</p> + +<p class="normal">She could not escape from him any more, he followed her +wherever she went, he took hold of her dress, and even if she forbade him to ask +her any more, she felt that he only thought of the one thing the whole time. So +he forced her in that way.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was not so averse to his accepting the +invitation from the Lämkes. "Why not? They're quite respectable people. It won't +harm the boy to cast a glance at those circles for once in a way. I also went to +our hall-porter's home as a boy. And why not?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She wanted to say: "But that was something quite different, +there was no danger in your case"--but then she thought better of it and said +nothing. She did not want to bring him her fears, her doubts, her secret gnawing +dread so soon again, as there was no manifest reason for them, and they could +not be explained as every other feeling can be after all. Something like a +depressing mist always hung over her. But why should she tell him so? She +neither wanted to be scolded nor laughed at for it; she would resent both. He +was not the same man he used to be. Oh--she felt it with a slight +bitterness--how he used to understand her. He had shared every emotion with her, +every vibration of her soul. But he had not the gift of <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 109]</span> understanding her thoughts now--or did she perhaps not +understand him any longer?</p> + +<p class="normal">But he was still her dear husband, her good, faithful husband +whom she loved more than anyone else in the world--no, whom she loved as she +loved Wölfchen. The child, oh, the child was the sun round which her life +revolved.</p> + +<p class="normal">If Paul only had been as he was formerly. She had to cast a +covert glance at him very frequently now, and, with a certain surprise, also +grow accustomed to his outward appearance. Not that his broadening-out did not +suit him; the slight stoutness his slender figure with its formerly somewhat +stiff but always perfect carriage had assumed suited his years, and the silver +threads that commenced to gleam in his beard and at his temples. It suited also +the comfortable velvet coat he always put on as soon as he came home, suited his +whole manner of being. Strange that anybody could become such a practical +person, to whom everything relating to business had formerly been such a burden, +nay, even most repugnant. He would not have picked up the strange child from the +Venn now, and--Käte gave her husband a long look--he would not have taken it +home with him now as a gift from fairyland.</p> + +<p class="normal">Had the years also changed her in the same manner? Her +looking-glass did not show her any very great change. There was still the same +girlish figure, which seemed twice as slender beside her husband's stoutness. +Her hair was still fair, and she still blushed like a young girl to whom a stray +look is enough to make the blood, that flows so easily, invade her delicate +cheeks. Yes, she had still remained young outwardly. But her mind was often +weary. Wolf caused her too much anxiety. A mother, who was ten, fifteen years +younger than she, would not perhaps feel how every nerve becomes strained <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 110]</span> when dealing with such a child as she did. Would not such a +mother often have laughed when she felt ready to cry?</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, what a boisterous, inexhaustible vital power there was in +that boy! She was amazed, bewildered, exhausted by it. Was he never tired? +Always on his legs, out of bed at six, always out, out. She heard him tossing +about restlessly at daybreak. He slept in the next room to theirs, and the door +between the rooms always stood open, although her husband scolded her for it. +The boy was big enough, did not want supervising. They need not have that +disturbance at night, at any rate.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she wanted to watch over his sleep too; she must do so. +She often heard him talk in his dreams, draw his breath so heavily, as though +something were distressing him. Then she would slip out of bed, softly, softly, +so that her husband should not hear her; she did not light any candle, she +groped her way into the other room on bare feet. And then she would stand at his +bedside. He still had the pretty railed cot from his first boyhood--but how long +would it be before it was too small? How quickly he was growing, how terribly +quickly. She passed her hand cautiously and lightly over the cover, and felt the +boy's long body underneath it. Then he began to toss about, groan, stiffen +himself like one who is struggling with something. What could be the matter with +him? Then he spoke indistinctly. Of what was he dreaming so vividly? He was wet +through with perspiration.</p> + +<p class="normal">If only she could see him. But she dared not light a candle. +What should she say to her husband if he, awakened by the light, asked her what +she was doing there? And Wölfchen would also wake and ask her what she wanted.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 111]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, what did she really want? She had no answer ready even +for herself. She would only have liked to know what was occupying his mind in +his dream to such an extent that he sighed and struggled. Of what was he +dreaming? Of whom? Where was he in his dream?</p> + +<p class="normal">She trembled as she stood at his bedside on her bare feet +listening. And then she bent over him so closely that his breath, uneven and +hot, blew into her face, and she breathed on him again--did not they mingle +their breath in that manner? Was she not giving him breath of her breath in that +manner?--and whispered softly and yet so earnestly, imploringly and at the same +time urgently: "Your mother is here, your mother is near you."</p> + +<p class="normal">But he threw himself over to the other side with a jerk, +turned his back on her and mumbled something. Nothing but incomprehensible +words, rarely anything that was distinct, but even that was enough; she felt he +was not there, not with her, that he was far away. Did his soul seek the home he +did not know in his dreams? that he could not even know about, and that still +had such a powerful influence that it drew him there even unconsciously?</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte stood at Wolfgang's bedside tortured by such an anxiety +as she had never felt before: a mother and still not mother. Alas, she was only +a strange woman at the bedside of a strange child.</p> + +<p class="normal">She crept back to her bed and buried her throbbing brows deep +in the pillows. She felt her heart beat tumultuously, and she scolded herself +for allowing her thoughts to dwell on such unavailing things. She did not change +anything by it, it only made her weary and sad.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Käte rose after such a night she felt her husband's eyes +resting on her anxiously, and her hands <span class="pagenum">[Pg 112]</span> +trembled as she coiled up her thick hair. It was fortunate that she dropped a +hair-pin, then she could stoop quickly and withdraw her tired face with the dark +lines under the eyes from his scrutinising glance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not at all satisfied with my wife's health again," Paul +Schlieben complained to the doctor. "She's in a terribly nervous state again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really?" Dr. Hofmann's friendly face became energetic. "I'll +tell you one thing, my dear friend, you must take vigorous measures against it +at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's no use." The man shook his head. "I know my wife. It's +the boy's doing, that confounded boy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And he took Wolfgang in hand. "Now listen, you must not always +be worrying your mother like that. If I notice once more that she is grieving +about you because you are naughty, you shall see what I'll do to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Did he worry his mother? Wolfgang looked very blank. And +surely it was not naughty of him to want to go to the Lämkes? It worried him to +have to sit indoors, whilst the wind was whistling outside and playing about +with one's hair in such a jolly manner. And it worried him, too, that he was not +going to the Lämkes that day.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well then, go," said Käte. She even drove into Berlin before +dinner and bought a doll, a pretty doll with fair locks, eyes that opened and +shut, and a pink dress. "Take it to Frida for her birthday when you go," she +said in the afternoon, putting it into the boy's hands. "Stop! Be careful!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He had seized hold of it impetuously, he was so delighted to +be able to bring Frida something. And in a rare fit of emotion--he was no friend +of caresses--he put up his face in an outburst of gratitude and let his mother +kiss him. He did not want her kiss, but <span class="pagenum">[Pg 113]</span> he +submitted to it, she felt that very well, but still she was glad, and she +followed him with her eyes with a smile that lighted up her whole face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But you must be home again before dark," she called out to +him at the last moment. Had he heard her?</p> + +<p class="normal">How he ran off, as light-footed as a stag. She had never seen +any child run so quickly. He threw up his straight legs that his heels touched +his thighs every time. The wind blew his broad-brimmed sailor hat back, then he +tore it off and ran on bareheaded, he was in such a hurry.</p> + +<p class="normal">What was it that drew him so powerfully to those people?</p> + +<p class="normal">The smile disappeared from Käte's face; she left the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was happy. He was sitting with the Lämkes, in the +room in which they also did the cooking when the weather was cold. The parents' +bed was divided off by means of a curtain, Frida slept on the sofa, and Artur in +the little room next to it in which were also kept the shovels and brooms which +Lämke used for cleaning the house and street.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not winter yet, still pleasant autumn, but the room was +already warm and cosy. The stronger smell of the coffee, which Frau Lämke was +making in the large enamelled pot, mingled with the delicate fragrance of the +pale monthly rose and carnation, myrtle and geranium, which had been pushed +close to the window that was almost level with the ground and were all in +flower. At home Wolfgang never got coffee, but he got some there; and he sipped +it as he saw the others do, only he was even more delighted with it than they. +And no fine pastry had ever tasted so good as did that plain bun, that was more +like bread than like a cake. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 114]</span> He ate it +with his mouth open, and when Mrs. Lämke pushed a second one to him, the guest +of honour, he took it with radiant eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke felt much flattered at his visit. But she had not +made much of the doll; she had taken it from Frida at once and locked it into +the cupboard: "So that you don't smash it at once. Besides, your father isn't a +gentleman that you can play with dolls every day." But later on when her husband +came down from the lodge, in which he sat in his leisure hours mending boots and +shoes, to drink a cup of coffee and eat a bun on Frida's birthday, the doll was +fetched out again and shown him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fine, isn't it? She's got it from Wolfgang's mamma. Just +look, Lämke"--the woman lifted the doll's pink dress up and showed the white +petticoat trimmed with a frill edged with narrow lace--"such trimming. Just like +that I sewed round the dress Frida wore at her christening. She was the first +one; bless you, and you think at the time it's something wonderful. Oh +dear!"--she sighed and laid the doll back in the cupboard in which the clean +pillowcases and Frida's and her Sunday hats were together with all kinds of odds +and ends--"how time flies. Now she's already nine."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ten," corrected Frida. "I'm ten to-day, mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Right--dear me, are you already ten?" The woman laughed and +shook her head, surprised at her own forgetfulness. And then she nodded to her +husband: "Do you still remember, Lämke, when she was born?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"If I remember!" he said, pouring another cup out of the +inexhaustible coffee-pot. "Those were nice carryings-on when she was born--none +of that again, thanks. The girl gave you a lot of trouble. And me too; I was +terribly afraid. But that's ten years since, old woman--why, it's almost +forgotten."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 115]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"And if it had happened a hundred years ago I shouldn't have +forgotten it, oh no." The woman put out her hand as though to ward off +something. "I was just going to make myself some coffee about four o'clock in +the afternoon, like to-day, I had got such a longing for it, and then it +started. I just got as far as the passage--do you remember, you were still +working in Stiller's workshop at the time, and we lived in the Alte Jakob, fifth +storey to the left?--and I knocked at Fritze's, the necktie maker's, whose door +was opposite ours, and said: 'Oh, please,' I said, 'send your little one as +quickly as you can to Frau Wadlern, 10, Spittelmarkt, she knows all about +it'--oh dear, how bad I felt. And I fell down on the nearest chair; they had the +greatest difficulty to get me home again. And now it began, I could not control +myself however much I tried; I believe they heard me scream three houses off. +And it lasted, it lasted--evening came on--you came home--it was midnight--five, +six, seven in the morning--then at last at nine o'clock Frau Wadlern said: 'The +child, it'll soon be----'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's enough now, mother," interrupted the man, glancing +sideways at the children, who were sitting very quietly round the table +listening, with wide-open, inquisitive eyes. "All that's over long ago, the +girl's here, and has been a credit to you so far."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She was born at eleven sharp," said Frau Lämke dreamily, +nodding her head at the same time and then drawing a deep breath as if she had +climbed a high mountain. And then, overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure of a +memory that was still so extremely vivid after the lapse of ten years, she +called her daughter, her first-born, to come to her on this her tenth birthday.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come here, Frida." And she gave her a kiss.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida, who was quite abashed at this unexpected <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 116]</span> caress, giggled as she cast a glance at her brother Artur and +the two other boys, and then ran to the door: "Can we go and play now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Be off with you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then they rushed out of the dark cellar, where the Lämkes +lived, in high spirits.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was so light in the street, the sun shone brightly, a fresh +wind was blowing and somebody was flying a kite far away across the field. There +were very few people on foot and no carriages. The road belonged to them, and +they rushed to it with a loud hallo. The one who reached the lamp-post at the +corner first was captain.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had never allowed anyone to deprive him of this +honour before, but he had to be policeman to-day, he had been the last. He had +followed the others slowly and silently. He had got something in his head to +think about, which made him dull and hindered him from running; he had to think +about it the whole time. He could not get rid of it even when he was in the +midst of his favourite game; the only time he forgot it was when he was having a +good scuffle with Hans Flebbe. The latter had scratched him in the face, and so +he tore a handful of his hair out. They gripped hold of each other near the next +garden-gate.</p> + +<p class="normal">Artur, a feeble little creature, had not taken part in the +fight, but he stood with his hands in his pockets giving advice in a screeching +voice to the two who fought in silence.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give him it hard, Flebbe. Your fist under his nose--hard."</p> + +<p class="normal">"On with you, Wolfgang. Settle him. Show him what you can do."</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida hopped from one leg to the other, laughing, her fair +plait dancing on her back. But all at once her laugh <span class="pagenum">[Pg +117]</span> became somewhat forced and anxious: Hans, who was several years +older than Wolfgang, had got him down on the ground and was hammering him in the +face with his fist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Flebbe, you--!" She pulled his blouse, and as that did not +help she nimbly put her foot out. He stumbled over it, and Wolfgang, quickly +taking advantage of it, swung himself up and belaboured his enemy.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was no game any longer, no ordinary scuffle between two +boys. Wolfgang felt his face burn like fire, he had a scratch on his cheek that +went down to his chin, there were sparks before his eyes. All that had made him +so silent before was forgotten, he felt a wild delight and gave a loud roar.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang, Wolfgang, no, that's not fair," cried the umpire. +"That's no longer fun." Artur prepared to catch hold of Wolfgang, who was +kneeling on his opponent's chest, by his two legs.</p> + +<p class="normal">A jerk and off he flew. Wolf now turned against him, trembling +with rage; his black eyes gleamed. This was no longer a well-dressed child of +better-class parents, this was quite an elementary, unbridled, unconquered +force. He snorted, he panted--at that moment somebody called.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang, Wolfgang."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang," cried Frida warningly, "mother's calling. And your +maid is standing near her beckoning."</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke's voice was again heard, coming from the door of +her house: "Wolfgang, Wolfgang." And now Lisbeth's sharp tones were also heard: +"Well, are you soon coming? You're to come home."</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke laughed. "Oh, leave them, they were so happy." But +she got a fright all the same when she saw the boy's dirty clothes, and began to +brush them. "My goodness, what a sight your pretty blouse looks--<span class="pagenum">[Pg +118]</span>and the trousers." She turned red, and still redder when she noticed +the fiery scratch on the young gentleman's cheek. "They've made a nice mess of +you, the brats. Just you wait until I get hold of you." She shook her fist at +Hans Flebbe and her own children, but her threat was not meant seriously. Then +she said to Lisbeth in an undertone and with a twitching smile round the corners +of her mouth, as she stood there motionless with indignation: "Wild brats, +aren't they? Well, it'll always be like that, we were all like that when we were +young." And, turning to Wolfgang again, she passed her gnarled hand over his +fiery scratch: "That was fine fun, eh, Wolfgang?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," he said from the bottom of his heart. And when he saw +her looking at him with eyes so friendly and full of comprehension, a great +liking for the woman sprang up in his heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">It had been a splendid afternoon. But he did not speak of it +as he went home with Lisbeth; she would have been sure to have turned up her +nose at it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm, the mistress is nice and angry," said Lisbeth--she never +said anything but "the mistress" when speaking to the boy. "Why did you stop +there such an everlasting time? Didn't you hear the mistress say you were to +come home before it was dark?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not answer. Let her chatter, it was not at all true. He +stared past her into the twilight. But when he came into the room on reaching +home, he noticed that his mother had waited for him. She was certainly not +angry, but his evening meal, an egg, a ham sandwich, the milk in a silver mug, +everything neatly prepared, was already there, and she sat opposite his place +with her hands folded on the white table cloth, frowning impatiently.</p> + +<p class="normal">The large hanging-lamp, which cast a bright light on <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 119]</span> the table and made her bent head gleam like gold, did not +brighten up her face.</p> + +<p class="normal">His mother was in silk, in light silk, in a dress trimmed with +lace, which only had something that looked like a very transparent veil over the +neck and arms. Oh, now he remembered, she was to meet his father, who had not +come home to dinner that day, in town at eight o'clock, and go to a party with +him. Oh, that was why he had had to come home so early. As if he could not have +got into bed alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You've come so late," she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You could have gone," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You know, my child, that I'm uneasy if I don't know that you +are at home." She sighed: "How could I have gone?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked at her in surprise: why did she say that? Had +somebody been telling tales about him again? Why was she so funny?</p> + +<p class="normal">He gazed at her with wide-open eyes, as though she were a +perfect stranger to him in that dress that left her neck and arms so bare. He +put his food into his mouth lost in thought, and munched it slowly. All at once +he had to think a great deal of what he had heard Frau Lämke tell. His father +and mother had never told anything about when <i>he</i> was born.</p> + +<p class="normal">And suddenly he stopped eating and launched the question into +the stillness of the room, into the stillness that reigned between him and her: +"When I was born, did it last such a long time too?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"When what?--who?--you?" She stared at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not seem to have understood him. So he quickly +swallowed the food he still had in his mouth and said very loudly and +distinctly: "Did it last such a long time when I was born? It lasted very long +when Frida was. Did you scream too, like Frau Lämke?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 120]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"I?--who?--I?" She turned crimson and then very pale. She +closed her eyes for a moment, she felt dizzy; there was a buzzing in her ears. +She jumped up from her chair, she felt she must run away, and still she could +not. She clutched hold of the table with shaking hands, but the strong oak table +had turned into something that shook uncertainly, that moved up and down, slid +about. What--what was the boy saying? O God!</p> + +<p class="normal">She bit her lips, drew a deep breath, and was about to say: +"Leave off asking such stupid questions," and yet could not say it. She +struggled with herself. At last she jerked out: "Nonsense. Be quick, finish +eating. Then off to bed at once." Her voice sounded quite hoarse.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy's astonished look fell on her once more. "Why are you +all at once so--so--so horrid? Can't I even ask a question?" And he pushed his +plate aside sulkily and stopped eating.</p> + +<p class="normal">Why did she not answer him? Why did she not tell him something +like what Frau Lämke had told her Frida? Had he not been born as well? And had +not his mother been pleased, too, when he was born? It was very nasty of her +that she did not tell him anything about it. Could she not see how much, how +awfully much he wanted to know something about it?</p> + +<p class="normal">A burning curiosity was aroused in the child all at once. It +tortured him, positively devoured him. He would not be able to sleep the whole +night, he would have to think of it again and again. And he wanted to sleep, it +was tiresome to lie awake--he wanted to know it he must know it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte saw how gloomy the boy's face had grown. Oh, the poor, +poor boy. If only she had not let him go to those people. What had he been told +there? What did he know? Had they made him suspicious? What <span class="pagenum">[Pg 121]</span> +<p class="normal"> did those people know? Oh, they had made him suspicious, +otherwise why should he have tormented her with such questions?</p> + +<p class="normal">A burning dread filled her mind, and yet her hands and feet +were growing as cold as ice. But her compassion was even greater than her +dread--there he sat, looking so sad and with tears in his eyes. The poor child, +who wanted to know something about his birth, and whom she could not, would not, +dared not tell anything. Oh, if only she could think of something to say, only +find the right word.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen," she said gently, "you are still too young to hear +about it--I can't tell you about it yet. Another time. You don't understand it +yet. When you're older--I'll tell you it another time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, now." She had gone up to him, and he caught hold of her +dress and held her fast. He persisted with the dull obstinacy that was peculiar +to him: "Now. I will know it--I must know it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I--I've no time, Wölfchen. I have to go--yes, I really +must go, it's high time." Her eyes wandered about the room, and she felt quite +flustered: "I--no, I can't tell you anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You will not," he said. "And still Frau Lämke told her Frida +it." The sulky peevish expression had disappeared from the boy's dark face, and +made way for one of real sadness. "You don't love me half so much, not in the +same way as Frau Lämke loves her Frida."</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not love him?--she did not love him?--Käte could have +screamed. If any mother loved her child it was surely she, and still this child +felt instinctively that something was wanting. And was not that mysterious bond +wanting that binds a real mother so indissolubly and mysteriously, so intimately +to her real child?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen," she said in a soft tremulous voice, "my <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 122]</span> dear Wölfchen," and she stroked his hot forehead with her icy +cold hand. "You don't mean what you are saying. We love each other so much, +don't we? My child--my darling child, tell me."</p> + +<p class="normal">She sought his glance, she hung on his answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the answer she longed for did not come. He looked past +her. "You see, you won't tell me anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">He seemed to harp on that. This burning desire had taken +possession of him all at once. Somebody had instilled it into him, there could +be no other explanation for it. "Who--" she asked hesitatingly--"who has told +you--you should question me in this manner? Who?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She had taken hold of his shoulders, but he wriggled away from +under her touch. "Oh, why are you so funny? No-nobody. But I should like to know +it. I tell you, I should like to know it. It worries me so. I don't know why it +worries me, that's all."</p> + +<p class="normal">It worried him--already? So early? Oh, then it was a +suspicion, a suspicion--who knew from whence it came? He suspected what had +happened in his earliest childhood unconsciously. What would happen? "O God, +help me!" she cried to herself. The point now was to invent something, make +something up, devise something. Those torturing questions must never, never be +asked again.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she forced herself to smile, and when she felt that her +smile was no smile, she stepped behind his chair and laid her cheek on the top +of his head and both her hands round his neck. He could not look round at her in +that way. And she spoke in the low voice in which fairy tales are told to +children.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Father and I had been married a long time--just think, almost +fifteen years!--and father and I wanted so much to have a dear boy or a dear +little girl, so that we should not be so much alone. One day I was very <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 123]</span> sad, for all the other women had a dear child, and I was the +only one who had not, and I walked about outside and cried, and then I suddenly +heard a voice it came from heaven--no, a voice--a voice that--and--and----" She +got bewildered, stammered and hesitated: what was she to say now?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm," he said impatiently. "And--? Tell me some more. And--?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"And next day you were lying in our cradle," she concluded +hastily and awkwardly, in an almost stifled voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And"--he had pushed her hands away, and had turned round and +was looking into her face now--"that's all?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well--and we--we were very happy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"How stupid!" he said, offended. "That's not 'being born.' +Frau Lämke told it quite differently. You don't know anything about it." He +looked at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">She evaded his glance, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers. It +seemed to her as if those scrutinising eyes were looking right down into her +soul. She stood there like a liar, and did not know what more to say.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You don't know anything about it," he repeated once more, +bitterly disappointed. "Good night." And he slouched to the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">She let him go, she did not call him back to give her his +good-night kiss. She remained sitting without moving. She heard his steps in the +room above. Now he opened the door to throw his boots into the corner outside, +now she heard them fall--now everything was quiet.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, what was she to say to him later on when he asked her +questions with full knowledge, a man justified in asking questions and demanding +an answer to them? She let herself fall into the chair on which he had been +sitting, and rested her head in her hands.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 124]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">The boy's friendship with the Lämkes was restricted. Her boy +should never go there again. In a manner Käte had grown jealous of the woman who +spoke of such improper things and did not mind what she said when children were +present.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke could not boast any longer of receiving a friendly +greeting from the fine lady. Frau Schlieben walked past her house now without +looking at her, and did not seem to hear her respectful: "Good morning, ma'am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell me, Wolfgang, what have I done to your mother?" she +asked the boy one day when she had been out shopping and saw him again for the +first time for several months. He was leaning against the railing that enclosed +the plot of ground opposite their house, staring fixedly at their door.</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave a start; he had not heard her coming. And then he +pretended not to see her, and stood flicking the whip he held in his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you never coming to see us again?" she went on. "Have you +been having a fight with Artur or been quarrelling with Frida? No, it can't be +that, as they've been looking out for you so long. I suppose your mother won't +let you, is that it? Hm, we're not good enough any more, I suppose? Of course +not. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 125]</span> Lämke's only a porter and our +children only a porter's children."</p> + +<p class="normal">Her good-natured voice sounded mortified, and the boy listened +attentively. He turned scarlet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I see, you are not allowed to. All right, stop away then, +it's all the same to me." She turned round to go, full of anger.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, what do you want now?" A sound from him made her stop; +she remained against her will. There was something in the glance the boy gave +her, as he looked her full in the face, that kept her standing. "I know, my +dear," she said good-naturedly, "it's not your fault. I know that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She won't let me," he muttered between his teeth, cracking +his whip with a loud noise.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not?" inquired the woman. "Hasn't she said why you're not +to play with Artur and Frida any more? Artur has got a new humming top--oh my, +how it dances. And Frida a splendid ball from the lady who lives in our house."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy's eyes flashed. He put out his foot and gave such a +violent kick to a stone in front of him that it flew over to the other side of +the street. "I shall play with them all the same."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, come, not so defiant," said the woman admonishingly. +"It may be the children were naughty--bless you, you can't be answerable for all +they do. Listen, little Wolfgang, you must obey your mother if she won't hear of +your coming." She sighed. "We've been very fond of you, my dear. But it's always +like that, the friendship is very warm to begin with, and then all of a sudden +the rich think better of it. And you really are too big to sit with us in the +cellar now----"</p> + +<p class="normal">She was chattering on, when she felt someone seize hold of her +hand. The boy held it in a very firm grip. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 126]</span> +Bending down to him--for she was tall and thin and her eyes were no longer very +good owing to the demi-obscurity of their room--she saw that he had tears in his +eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and got quite a fright.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hush, hush, Wölfchen. Now don't cry, for goodness' sake +don't, it isn't worth it." Taking hold of a corner of her coarse blue +working-apron--she had just run away from the wash-tub--she wiped his eyes and +then his cheeks, and then she stroked the hair that grew so straight and thick +on his round head.</p> + +<p class="normal">He stood quite still in the street that was already so sunny, +so spring-like, as though rooted to the spot. He who had shrunk from caresses +allowed her to stroke him, and did not mind if others saw it too.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall come to see you again, Frau Lämke. She can say what +she likes. I will come to you."</p> + +<p class="normal">As he went away, not running as he usually did, but slowly and +deliberately, the woman followed him with her eyes, and was surprised to see how +big he had grown.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had no easy time. However much she fought against +Wölfchen having any intercourse with the Lämkes--positively stood out against +it--the boy was stronger than she. He succeeded in gaining his end; the children +were to come to him, even if he might not go to them. In the garden, at any +rate--he had wrung that concession from his mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">They had had a struggle, as it were--no loud words and violent +scenes, it is true, no direct prohibitions on her side, no entreaties on his, +but a much more serious, silent struggle. She had felt that he was setting her +at defiance, that the opposition in him increased more and more until it became +dislike--yes, dislike of her. Or did she only imagine it?</p> + +<p class="normal">She would have liked to speak to her husband about <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 127]</span> it--oh, how she wanted to do it!--but she dreaded his smile, or +his indirect reproach. He had said a short time ago: "It's no trifle to train a +child. One's own is difficult enough, how much more difficult"--no, he should +not say "somebody else's" again, no, never again. This child was not somebody +else's, it was their own--their beloved child. She gave way to Wolfgang. Anyhow +there was no danger if the children came to him in the garden; she could always +see and hear them there. And she would be good to them, she made up her mind the +children should not suffer because she had already had to weep many a secret +tear at night on her pillow on account of their friendship. She would make her +boy fond of the garden, so fond that he would never long to go out into the +street again.</p> + +<p class="normal">But when she hid the coloured eggs on Easter Sunday, the day +she had given Wölfchen permission to invite the Lämkes and also the coachman's +son into the garden, and put the nests and hares and chickens into the box-tree +that was covered with shoots and among the clusters of blue scyllas that had +just commenced to flower, something like anger rose in her heart. Now these +children would come with their bad manners and clumsy shoes and tread down her +beds, those flower-beds with which they had taken so much trouble, and in which +the hyacinths were already showing buds under the branches that protected them +and the tulips lifting up their heads. What a pity! And what a pity they would +not be able to enjoy this first really spring day quietly, listening undisturbed +to the piping blackbird. And they had even refused to come. Hans Flebbe had +certainly accepted the invitation without showing any resentment--the coachman +knew what was the right thing to do--but the Lämkes did not want to come on any +account--that is <span class="pagenum">[Pg 128]</span> to say, their mother did +not wish it. Lisbeth had been sent there twice; the second time she had come +back quite indignant: "Really, what notions such people have." "Dear boy, it's +no good, they won't come," Käte had had to say. But then she had noticed how +downcast he looked, and in the night she had heard him sigh and toss about. No, +that would not do. She wanted to feel his arm, which he had flung so impetuously +round her waist when she gave him permission to invite the children, round her +neck too. And then she had sat down and written--written to this uneducated +woman, addressing her as "Dear Madam," and had asked her to let the children +look for eggs to please Wolfgang.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now they were there. They stood stiff and silent on the path +dressed in their best clothes, and did not even look at the flower-beds. Käte +had always imagined she understood how to draw out children extremely well, but +she did not understand it in this case. She had praised Frida's bran-new, many +coloured check frock, and had lifted up her fair plait on which the blue bow was +dangling: "Oh, how thick!"--and she had remarked on Artur's shiny boots and +Flebbe's hair, which was covered with pomade and which he wore plastered down on +both sides of his healthy-looking footman's face with a parting in the middle. +She had also made inquiries about their school report at Easter, but had never +got any longer answer than "yes" and "no."</p> + +<p class="normal">The children were shy. Especially Frida. She was the eldest, +and she felt how forced the friendly inquiries were. She made her curtsey as she +always did, quickly and pertly like a water wagtail bobbing up and down, but her +high girl's voice did not sound so clear to-day; the tone was more subdued, +almost depressed. And she <span class="pagenum">[Pg 129]</span> did not laugh. +Artur copied his sister, and Hans Flebbe copied the girl too, for he always +considered all she did worthy of imitation. The two boys stood there, poor +little wretches, staring fixedly at the points of their boots and sniffing, as +they dared not take out their handkerchiefs and use them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was in despair. She could not understand that her +Wolfgang could find pleasure in having such playfellows. Moreover, he was +exactly like the others that day, taciturn and awkward. Even when they commenced +to look for the eggs, the children set about it very stupidly; she had +positively to push them to the hiding-place.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last, tired out and almost irritable, Käte went indoors; +she would only stop there a short time. No, she could not stand it any longer, +always to have to talk and talk to the children and still not get any answer out +of them.</p> + +<p class="normal">But hardly had she reached her room, when she pricked up her +ears; a cry reached her from outside that was as clear, as piercing and +triumphant as a swallow's when on the wing. Children shouted like that when they +were thoroughly happy--oh, she knew that from former times, from the time before +Wölfchen had come. Then she had often listened to such shouts full of longing. +Oh--<i>she</i> had only to go, then the children were merry, then Wolfgang was +merry. She felt very bitter.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had gone to the window and was looking out into the +garden, with her forehead pressed against the pane. How they ran, jumped, +hopped, laughed. As though they had been set free. They were trying to catch +each other. Frida darted behind the bushes like a weasel, came into sight again +with a sharp piercing laugh, and then disappeared once more with a shriek. +Wolfgang set off after her wildly. He took no notice of +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 130]</span> the beds in which the flowers were +growing, his mother's delight; he jumped into the middle of them, caring little +whether he broke the hyacinths or the tulips, his one thought being to prevent +Frida escaping.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the two others copied him. Oh, how they trampled on the +beds now. All three boys were after the girl. The fair plait flew up and down in +the sunshine like a golden cord, now here, now there. At last Wolfgang seized +hold of it with a triumphant shout. Frida endeavoured to get it away, but the +boy held it fast. Then she turned round as quick as lightning, and, laughing all +over her face, grasped him firmly round the body with both hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a harmless merry embrace, a trick of the game--the girl +did not wish to be caught, she wanted to pretend that she had been the +captor--it was quite a childish innocent embrace, but Käte reddened. She +frowned: hardly had she turned her back, when the girl from the street showed +herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the mother went into the garden again with a feeling of +hatred towards the girl who, in spite of her youth, already endeavoured to +attract her boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">If Käte had thought she would earn her boy's boisterous +gratitude that evening after the children had gone home, loaded with Easter eggs +and having had plenty to eat, she was disappointed. Wolfgang did not say a word.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had to ask him: "Well, was it nice?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm."</p> + +<p class="normal">That might just as well mean yes as no. But she learnt that it +had meant no when she bade him goodnight. It was his father's wish that he +should kiss her hand; he did so that evening as usual with an awkward, already +so thoroughly boyish, somewhat clumsy gesture. His dark smooth head bent before +her for a moment--<span class="pagenum">[Pg 131]</span> only a short moment--his +lips just brushed her hand. There was no pressure in the kiss, no warmth.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Haven't you enjoyed yourself at all?" She could not help it, +she had to ask once more. And he, who was candid, said straight out:</p> + +<p class="normal">"You always came just when it was nice."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well then, I won't disturb you in the future." She tried to +smile. "Good night, my son." She kissed him, but after he had gone there was a +great terror in her heart, besides a certain feeling of jealousy at the thought +of being superfluous. If he were like that now, what would he be later on?</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang could not complain, his mother let the children come +to him in the garden as often as he wanted them--and he wanted them almost every +day. The friendship that had languished during the winter became warmer than +ever now that it was summer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pray leave them," Paul Schlieben had said to his wife, as she +looked at him with anxious eyes: what would he say? Would he really not mind +Wolfgang rushing about with those children in his garden? "I think it's nice to +see how the boy behaves to those children," he said. "I would never have thought +he could attach himself to anybody like that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You don't think it will do him any harm only to associate +with those--those--well, with those children who belong to quite a different +sphere?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nonsense. Harm?" He laughed. "That will stop of its own +accord later on. I infinitely prefer him to keep to the children of such people +than to those of snobs. He'll remain a simple child much longer in that manner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think so?" Well, Paul might be right in a manner. +Wölfchen was not at all fanciful, he liked an apple, a plain piece of bread and +butter just as much <span class="pagenum">[Pg 132]</span> as cake. But all the +same it would have been better, and she would have preferred it, had he shown +himself more dainty with regard to his food--as well as to other things. She +took great trouble to make him more fastidious.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the cook came to her quite indignant one day: "Master +Wolfgang won't have any more of the good saveloy on his bread now, nor of the +joint from dinner either, ma'am he says it's 'always the same.' What am I to do +now?" she was delighted. At last she had succeeded in instilling into him that +people do not swallow everything thoughtlessly without making any choice, just +for the sake of eating something.</p> + +<p class="normal">If she had seen how he stuffed bread and dripping with liver +and onion sausage on it down his throat at Frau Lämke's, or gobbled up potato +cake baked in oil hot from the pan, she would not have been so delighted. But +now she was grateful for every finer feeling she thought she observed in him, be +it ever so small. She did not notice at all what tortures she caused herself in +this manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, why did not her husband help her to train him? If only he +would. But he no longer understood her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had given up remonstrating with his wife. He +had done so several times, but what he had said had had no effect owing to the +obstinacy with which she held fast to her principles. Why should he quarrel with +her? They had lived so many years happily together--it would soon be their +silver wedding--and was this child, this boy who could hardly write correctly as +yet, into whose head the master was just drilling the first rules in Latin--this +child who after all had nothing to do either with her or him--this outsider to +separate him and his wife now after they had been married so long? Rather than +that it would be better to let many things <span class="pagenum">[Pg 133]</span> +pass which it would perhaps have been better for Käte to have done differently. +Let her see how she could manage the boy in her way--she was so very fond of +him. And when he, no longer the plaything, had outgrown her delicate hands, then +he, the man, was still there to make him feel a more vigorous hand. Fortunately +there was no deceit in the boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was not dissatisfied with Wolfgang. He +certainly did not show any brilliancy at school, he did not belong to the top +boys of his form by any means, but still he kept quite respectably in the middle +of it. Well, there was no need for him to be a scholar.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had not the same opinion as formerly of the +things he used to find in his younger years the only ones worth considering: +science, art, and their study. Now he was content with his calling as merchant. +And as this child had come into his life, had come into that position without +having done anything to bring it about himself, it was the duty of him who +allowed himself to be called "father" by him to prepare a future for him. So the +man mapped out a certain plan. When the boy had got so far as to pass the +examination that entitled him to one year's service in the army, he would take +him away from school, send him a year to France, England and possibly also to +America, to firms of high standing in each country, and then, when he had +started from the bottom and learnt something, he would make him a partner. He +thought how nice it would be then to be able to lay many things on younger +shoulders. And the boy would no doubt be reliable; one could see that already.</p> + +<p class="normal">If only Käte did not expect such a ridiculous amount of him. +She was always after the boy--if not in person, then in her thoughts, at any +rate. She worried him--it could not be helped, he was not an affectionate +child--and did it make her happy?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He had many a time given the boy an imperceptible, pacifying +nod, when his eyes had sought his across the table as though asking for help. +Yes, it was really getting more and more difficult to get on with Käte.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The Schliebens went away. The husband had consulted the doctor +with regard to his wife, and he had ordered Franzensbad. But it was absolutely +impossible for him to accompany her there. He would employ the time making some +excursions on foot in the Tyrol, as it was a long time since he had had a +holiday. A couple of pounds less in weight would do him no harm.</p> + +<p class="normal">But where was Wolfgang to be meanwhile?</p> + +<p class="normal">"At home," said his father. "He's old enough; eleven years. He +is at school in the morning and in the garden in the afternoons, and Hofmann can +come and see him every other day--to reassure you."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was an unbearable thought for the mother to leave the child +alone. She would have preferred to take him with her. But Paul had got vexed: +"What next?" And the doctor had said. "On no account."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Käte had wanted to induce her husband to take the boy +with him: "How healthy it would be for him to run about to his heart's content +for once in a way."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It seems to me he does enough of that here. Really, Käte, the +boy is as strong as can be, don't always make such a fuss about him. Besides, +I'm not going to take him away from school when it's quite unnecessary."</p> + +<p class="normal">To be sure, he must not lose his place in the form, and +possibly become one of the last. Käte was so ambitious on her son's account. But +as the July holidays were almost over and she had not gone away with him during +that time, which would have been more suitable, she would remain at home for the +present. She declared she could not go away.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 135]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">However, the doctor and her husband arranged everything +without her; the more nervously and anxiously she refused to go, the more urgent +a thorough cure seemed to be to them. The day of departure had already been +proposed.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Lisbeth gave notice beforehand: no, if the mistress was +going away for so long and the master too, she would go as well. Remain alone +with Wolfgang, with <i>that</i> boy? No, that she wouldn't.</p> + +<p class="normal">She must have saved a tidy little sum during the well-nigh ten +years she had been in the house, for even the promise of a rise could not keep +her. She persisted in her wish to leave, and threw an angry look at the boy, +whose laughing face appeared outside above the windowsill at that moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was beside herself. Not only because she did not want the +servant she had had so long to leave her, but she had reckoned so firmly on +Lisbeth keeping a watchful eye on the boy during her absence. And it pained her +that she spoke of Wolfgang in such a tone full of hate. What had the child done +to her?</p> + +<p class="normal">But Lisbeth only shrugged her shoulders without speaking, and +looked sulky and offended.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben took the boy in hand. "Just tell me, my boy, +what's been the trouble between you and Lisbeth? She has given notice, and it +seems to me she's leaving on your account. Listen"--he cast a keen glance at +him--"I suppose you've been cheeky to her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy's face brightened: "Oh, that's nice, that's nice that +she's going." He did not answer the question that had been put to him at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">His father caught him by the ear. "Answer me, have you been +cheeky to her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm." Wolfgang nodded and laughed. And then he said, still +triumphing in the remembrance: "It was <span class="pagenum">[Pg 136]</span> +only yesterday. I gave her a smack in the face. Why does she always say I've no +right here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man did not tell anything of this to his wife; she would +only have brooded over it. He had not punished the boy either, only shaken his +finger at him a little.</p> + +<p class="normal">Lisbeth went away. She left the house, in which she had served +so long and faithfully and in which she had had to put up with so much--as she +weepingly assured her mistress, who was also overcome with emotion--like an +offended queen.</p> + +<p class="normal">Another maid had been engaged, one in whom Käte had certainly +not much confidence from the commencement--Lisbeth had straightway given her the +impression of being much more intelligent--but there was no choice, as it was +not the time of year when servants generally leave; and she had to go to the +baths as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">So Cilia Pioschek from the Warthe district came to the +Schliebens.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was a big, strong girl with a face that was round and +healthy, white and red. She was only eighteen, but she had already been in +service a long time, three years as nurse at the farm bailiff's whilst she still +went to school. Paul Schlieben was amused at her--she did not understand a joke, +took everything literally and said everything straight out just as it came into +her head--but Käte called her behaviour "forward." On the other hand the new +maid was on better terms with the old cook and the man-servant than Lisbeth, as +she put up with a good deal.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You can go away with your mind at rest," said Paul. "Do me +this favour, Käte, don't oppose our plan any longer. In six weeks you will be +back again quite well, God willing, and I shall not see these"--he gave a slight <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 137]</span> tap with his finger--"these small wrinkles at the corners of +your eyes any more." He kissed her.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she returned his kiss, now when she was to be separated +from him for the first time since their marriage for so long; for they had +always, always travelled together before, and since Wölfchen had come to the +house he had only once asked permission to leave her for a fortnight at the +most. She had never left the child alone. And now she was to leave her dear ones +for six long weeks. She clung to him. She had it on the tip of her tongue to ask +him: "Why don't you go with me as you used to? Franzensbad and Spa--there's +surely no great difference between those two?" But why say it if he had never +thought of doing so for a moment? Years had gone by, and some of the tenderness +that had united them so closely before, that they could only enjoy things +together, and that made them feel they never could be separated, had disappeared +under the winged flight of time.</p> + +<p class="normal">She sighed and withdrew quietly from the arm that he had +thrown round her. "If anybody should come in and see us like this. Such an old +couple," she said, trying to joke. And he gave a somewhat embarrassed laugh, as +she thought, and did not try to hold her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But when the carriage which was to take her to the station in +Berlin stood before the door early one morning, when the two large trunks as +well as the small luggage had been put on the top of it, when he held out his +hand to help her in and then took a seat beside her, she could not refrain from +saying: "Oh, if only you were going with me. I don't like travelling alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">"If only you had said so a little earlier." He felt quite +perturbed; he was exceedingly sorry. "How easily I could have taken you there +the one day, seen you settled there and come back the next."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 138]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, he did not understand what she meant by "if only you were +going with me." Stay with her there as well--that was what she had meant.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her sorrowful eyes sought the upstairs window behind which +Wölfchen was sleeping. She had had to say goodbye to him the evening before, as +she was leaving so early. She had only stood at his bedside with a mute good-bye +that morning, and her gloved hand had passed cautiously over his head, that +rested so heavily on the pillow, so as not to waken him. Oh, how she would have +liked to have said some loving words to him now.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy," she said +quickly, hastily, several times after each other, to the cook and Friedrich, who +were standing near the carriage. "And take good care of him. Do you hear? Give +my love to the boy, give my love to the boy." She could not say anything more or +think of anything more. "Give my love to----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the upstairs window rattled. Stretching both her arms out +she rose half out of her seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy put his head out. His cheeks, that were hot with +sleep, showed ruddy above his white night-shirt.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good-bye, good-bye. Come back well. And be sure to write to +me."</p> + +<p class="normal">He called it out in a very contented voice and nodded down to +her; and she saw Cilia's round, healthy, white and red face behind his and heard +her friendly laugh.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 139]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Käte did not know herself how she got over those weeks in +which she was separated from her home. It was not so bad as she had imagined. +She felt that a greater tranquillity had come over her, a tranquillity she never +could feel at home; and this feeling of tranquillity did her good. She wrote +quite contented letters, and her husband's bright accounts of "magnificent +mountains" and "magnificent weather" delighted her. She also heard good news +from Dr. Hofmann, who used to send her his reports most faithfully, as he had +promised.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The boy is in the best of health," he wrote, "you need not +worry about him, my dear lady. He certainly has to do without his playfellows at +present, for a boy and girl are ill, and he feels bored when alone with the fat +boy who is still left. He is generally by himself in the garden; Friedrich has +given him some lettuce plants, and he has also sown some radishes. I have found +him at his lessons as well."</p> + +<p class="normal">Thank God! It seemed to the woman as if she could breathe +freely now, as though free from a load. She carried the letter from her old +friend about in her pocket for a long time, read it whilst out for a walk, when +sitting on a bench and in the evening when lying in bed. "A boy and girl are +ill"--oh, the poor children. What could be the matter with them? But thank God, +he <span class="pagenum">[Pg 140]</span> was mostly by himself in the garden +now. That was the best.</p> + +<p class="normal">She wrote a letter to her boy, a very bright one, and he +answered her in the same strain. The letter in itself was certainly rather +funny. "Beloved mother"--how comical. And the whole wording as though copied +from a polite letter-writer. She made up her mind to enclose it in her next +letter to her husband what would he say to it? "Beloved mother"--but it pleased +her all the same, and also "Your obedient son" at the end of it. Otherwise the +letter really contained nothing, nothing of what he was doing, not even anything +about the Lämkes, also no longing "come back soon"; but it was written +carefully, tidily and clearly, not such a scrawl as he usually wrote. And that +showed her that he loved her.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had also enclosed a little picture, a small square with a +border of lace paper, on which there was a snow-white lamb holding a pink flag. +Under it stood in golden letters, "Agnus Dei, miserere nobis."</p> + +<p class="normal">Where could he have got that from? Never mind from where, he +had wanted to give her something. And the small tasteless picture touched her +deeply. The good boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">She put the picture with the lamb of God carefully among her +treasures; it should always remain there. A tender longing came over her for the +boy, and she could not imagine how she had been able to stand it so long without +him.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">August was over and September already almost half gone when +Käte returned home. Her husband, who had returned before her, came to meet her; +they met in Dresden, and their meeting was a very cordial one. He could never +get tired of looking at her bright colour, her bright eyes; and she on her side +found him very <span class="pagenum">[Pg 141]</span> sunburnt, more +youthful-looking and almost as slender as formerly.</p> + +<p class="normal">They sat hand in hand in the compartment he had had reserved +for them; quite alone like two young lovers. They had an enormous amount to say +to each other--there was nothing, nothing whatever that disturbed them. They +gazed at each other very tenderly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How delighted I am to have you again," she said, after he had +told her a lot about his journey in a lively manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And I you." He nodded to her and pressed her hand. Yes, it +really seemed to both of them as if they had been separated from each other for +an eternity. He drew her still closer, held her as tightly as though she were a +precious possession that had been half snatched away from him, and she clung to +him, leant her head on his shoulder and smiled dreamily.</p> + +<p class="normal">Innumerable golden atoms danced on a slender slanting sunbeam +before her half-closed eyes. The even rattling of the carriages and the calm +feeling of a great joy in her heart lulled her to sleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly she started up--was it a jolt, a shock? She had all +at once got a fright, as it were: she had not asked anything about the child as +yet!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen--what's Wölfchen doing?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, he's all right. But now tell me, darling, how did you +spend the whole day there? How was it divided? In the morning to the +spring--first one glass, after that a second--and then? Well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not tell him. "Wölfchen is surely well?" she asked +hastily. "There must be something wrong--you say so little about him. I've had +such a misgiving the whole time. Oh dear, do tell me." Her voice sounded almost +irritable--how could Paul be so indifferent. "What's the matter with Wölfchen?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 142]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"The matter?" He looked at her in great surprise. "But why +must there be something the matter with him? He's as strong as a horse."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really? But tell me, tell me something about him."</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled at her impatience. "What is there to tell about such +a boy? He sleeps, eats, drinks, goes to school, comes home, runs out into the +garden, sleeps, eats, drinks again and so on, vegetates like the plants in the +sunshine. It's much better for you to tell me how you are."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I--I--" that seemed so superfluous to her all at +once--"I--quite well, you can see that." How indifferent he was with regard to +the child. And she--his mother--had been able to forget him so long too? She +felt so ashamed of herself that she hastily raised her head from her husband's +shoulder and sat up straight. Now they were not lovers any longer, only parents +who had to think about their child.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she only spoke of the boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul felt the sudden change in his wife. It depressed him: had +they gone back to where they were before? Did she already feel no interest again +in anything but the boy? He no longer felt any inclination to speak of his +journey.</p> + +<p class="normal">The conversation became more and more monosyllabic; he bought +a paper at the next station, and she leant back in her corner and tried to +sleep. But she did not succeed in doing so, in spite of feeling very tired; her +thoughts continued to revolve round the one point: so there was nothing the +matter with him. Thank God! How indifferent Paul was, to be sure. Would Wölfchen +be very delighted when she came home? The dear boy--the darling boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">She must have slept a little at last nevertheless, for she +suddenly heard her husband's voice, as though far away, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 143]</span> saying: "Get ready, darling; Berlin," and she started up.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were already among the innumerable lines that cross each +other there. Then the train rushed into the glass-roofed station.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So we've got so far." He helped her out, and she began to +tremble with impatience. Would this running up and down stairs, this crossing to +the other side of the station, and then the waiting and watching for the train +to the suburbs never come to an end? Would not Wölfchen be asleep? It would be +dark before they got home.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is the train soon coming? What time is it? Oh dear, what a +long time we have to wait."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Calm yourself, the boy is waiting for you, never fear. He +sits a long time with Cilia every evening; she hasn't much time for him during +the day. A nice girl. You've been very fortunate there."</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not catch what he said, she was thinking the whole +time how she would find him. Would he have grown very much? Have changed? +Children at his age are said to change constantly--had he grown ugly, or was he +still so handsome? But never mind! she used to attach more importance to his +outward appearance--as long as he was good, very good, that was all that +mattered now. In her thoughts she could already hear his shout of joy, already +feel his arms round her neck, his kiss on her mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">The wind, which had become pleasant towards evening after a +day that had been hot in spite of it already being autumn, fanned her face +without being able to cool her cheeks that glowed with emotion. As they stopped +in front of the house, which, with its balconies full of bright red geraniums, +lay prettily concealed behind the evergreen pines under the starry September +sky, her heart beat as though she had run much too far and too quickly. At <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 144]</span> last! She drew a deep breath--now she was with him again.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he did not come running to meet her. How strange that he +had not watched for her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They'll be sitting in the veranda at the back," said her +husband. "They always sit there in the evening." He remained behind a little. +Let Käte see the boy alone first.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she hurried through the hall past the beaming cook and +without seeing Friedrich, who had donned his livery after decorating all the +rooms with the flowers he had raised himself; she neither admired his successes +in the garden nor the cake the cook had placed on the festive-looking table. She +ran from the hall into her small sitting-room and from thence through the +dining-room, the door of which led to the verandah. The door was open--now she +stood on the threshold--those outside did not see her.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was only one of the shaded lamps on the veranda table +that was burning, but it was bright enough to light up the space around it. But +Cilia was doing nothing. The stocking she was to darn lay in her lap; her right +hand in which she held the long darning-needle rested idly on the edge of the +table. She was leaning back a little; her face, which looked more refined and +prettier in the twilight, was raised; she seemed to be lost in thought with her +mouth half open.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nothing was to be seen of Wolfgang. But now his mother heard +him speak in a tone full of regret: "Don't you know any more? Oh!" And then +urgently: "Go on, Cilia, go on, it was so beautiful."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah, now she saw him too. He was sitting at the girl's feet, on +quite a low footstool, leaning against her knee. And he was looking up at her +imploringly, longingly at that moment, looking at her with eyes that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 145]</span> gleamed like dark polished agate, and +speaking to her in a tone his mother thought she had never heard from him +before: "Sing, Cillchen. Dear Cillchen, sing."</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl began:</p> + +<p style="margin-left:10%">"Quoth she with voice subdued, 'Cease from quaking--</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh no.</p> + +<p class="center">"Not in wrath am I before thee standing--</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, not that, either.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:10%">"Only why did I, weak one, believe thy vows--</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, I don't know any more. Well, I never! And I've sung it so +often when I was at home. At home in the village when me and my sweetheart went +for a walk together. Dear, dear"--she stamped her foot angrily--"that I could +forget like that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't be vexed, Cillchen. You mustn't be vexed. Begin again +from the beginning, that doesn't matter. I would love to hear it again, again +and again. It's splendid."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cillchen--Cillchen"--how playful that sounded, positively +affectionate. And how he hung on her lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte craned her neck forward; she was in the veranda now, but +the two had not noticed her yet.</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl sang in a drawling, sing-song voice as she had sung +in the village street at home, but the boy's eyes glistened and grew big as he +listened to her. His lips moved as though he were singing as well:</p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"Satin and silk new-wed Henry cover;<br> + Wealthy his bride, brought from land o' Rhine<br> + But serpent stings tease the perjured lover,<br> + Bid slumbers sweet his rich bed decline.</p> + +<p class="continue">"The clock strikes twelve: sudden are appearing<br> + Through curtain fringe, fingers, slender, white.<br> + Whom sees he now? His once dear----"</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">The singer came to a standstill--suddenly the sound of a +deep-drawn breath passed through the veranda. The boy gave a terrified +shriek--there she stood, there she stood!</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 146]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, Wolfgang! Wölfchen!" His mother stretched out her arms +to him, but he buried his head in the girl's lap.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte frowned at the girl: what nonsense to sing such songs to +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, the mistress!" Cilia jumped up, her face crimson, and let +everything she had on her lap stocking, darning ball, wool and scissors--fall on +the floor; the boy as well.</p> + +<p class="normal">Why were they both so terrified? Wolfgang stared at her as if +she were a ghost.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had risen now, had kissed his mother's hand, and +mechanically raised his face to receive her kiss; but his face did not show that +he was glad to see her. Or was it embarrassment, a boyish shame because she had +taken him by surprise? His eyes did not gaze straight at her, but always +sideways. Did he look upon her as a stranger--quite a stranger?</p> + +<p class="normal">An inexpressible disappointment filled the heart of the woman +who had just returned home, and her voice sounded harsh without intending it as +she told the girl to go away. She sat down on the seat near the table, which she +had just vacated, and drew her boy toward her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How have you got on, Wölfchen? Tell me--well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you missed your mother a little?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He nodded again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've brought such a lot of pretty things for you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he grew animated. "Have you also brought something for +Cilia? She could find use for a workbasket with all kinds of things in it very +well: she has only an old one she used at school, you know. Oh, she can tell +such splendid stories--ugh, that make you shiver. And how she can sing. Let her +sing this one for you:</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 147]</span></p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"A smart pretty maiden, quite a young sprig,<br> + A farmer did choose for his bride;<br> + Her favours, however, to a soldier man jig,<br> + And sly to her old man she cried--</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">"It's perfectly ripping, I can tell you."</p> + +<p class="normal">And he began to hum the continuation with a laugh:</p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"He had much better toss the hay, hooray,<br> + The hay, hooray----"</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">"Hush!" She put her hand to his mouth. "That's not at all a +nice song--it's a horrid one. You mustn't sing that any more."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But why not?" He gazed at her with eyes round with amazement.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Because I don't wish it," she said curtly. She was indignant: +she would give the girl a bit of her mind to-morrow, yes, to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her cheeks were no longer hot. A cold wind blew through the +veranda, which pierced her to the very heart. When her husband called out: "Why, +Käte, what have you been doing with yourself? Do take off your things first," +she quickly answered his call.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy remained alone behind, and looked out into the mild +night that was now quite dark, with blinking, dreamy eyes. Oh, how beautifully +Cilia had sung. She would have to sing and tell him stories to-morrow as well. +But if she were to come there again! Never mind, they would be sure to be able +to find a place where they would be undisturbed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not sleep at all that first night, although she was +dead-tired. Perhaps too tired. She had had a long talk about it with Paul after +they were in bed. He had said she was right, that neither the one nor the other +song was very suitable, but: "Good gracious, what a lot of things one hears as a +child that never leave any trace whatever," he had said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not on <i>him</i>." And then she had said plaintively: <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 148]</span> +"I've so often tried to read something really beautiful to him, the best our +poets have written but he takes no interest in it, he has no understanding for +it as yet. And for such--such"--she sought for an expression and did not find +it--"for such things he goes into raptures. But I won't allow it, I won't stand +it. Such things may not come near him."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Then let her go," he had said testily. He was on the point of +falling asleep, and did not want to be disturbed any more. "Good night, darling, +have a good night's rest. Now that you've come home again you'll do what you +think right."</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, that she would!</p> + +<p class="normal">From that day forth she never let the boy out of her sight. +And her ears were everywhere. There was no reason to send the girl away--she was +honest and clean and did her duty--only she must not be alone with Wölfchen +again. Wolfgang was now in his twelfth year, it was not a maid's place to look +after him any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">But it was difficult for Käte to live up to her resolutions. +Her husband, of course, had claims on her too, and also her house and her social +life; it was not possible to shake off, give up, neglect everything else for the +one, for the child's sake. Besides, it might make her husband seriously angry +with the child, if she constantly went against his wishes; she trembled at the +thought of it. She had to go into society with him now and then, he was pleased +when she--always well dressed--was in request as an agreeable woman. He was fond +of going out--and went, alas, much, much too often. So she instructed the cook +and the man-servant--even begged them earnestly to keep a watch on what was +going on. They were quite amazed; if the mistress was so little satisfied with +Cilia, she <span class="pagenum">[Pg 149]</span> should give her notice; there +would be girls enough on the 1st of January.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte turned away angrily: how horrid of the servants to want +to drive the other away. And if another one came into the house, might it not be +exactly the same with her? Servants are always a danger to children.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was developing quickly, especially physically. It was +not that he was growing so tall, but he was getting broader, becoming robust, +with a strong neck. When he threw snowballs with the Lämkes outside the door he +looked older than Artur, who was of the same age, even older than Frida. He was +differently fed from these children. His mother was delighted to notice his +clear, fresh-looking skin, and saw that he had plenty of warm baths and a cold +sponge down every morning. And he had to go to the hairdresser every fortnight, +where his thick, smooth mop of dark hair, which remained somewhat coarse in +spite of all the care expended on it, was washed and a strengthening lotion +rubbed into it. The Lämkes looked almost starved when compared with him; they +had not recovered from the effects of scarlet fever very long. If only Wölfchen +did not get it too. His mother had a great dread of it. She had kept him away +from the Lämkes until quite recently; but there was always the danger of +infection at school. Oh dear, one never had peace, owing to the child.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">They had had a splendid time out of doors. The lake that lies +below the villas like a calm eye between the dark edges of the woods was frozen; +Wolfgang and half of his form had been skating there. Käte had also walked up +and down the shore for some time after their midday meal, watching her boy. How +nicely he skated already. He was more secure on his legs and skated <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 150]</span> better than many of the lads who were describing the figure +eight and circles, skating in the Dutch style and dancing with ladies. He was +always trying to do all kinds of tricks already, he was certainly courageous. If +only he did not fall down or tumble into the water! And he was always skating +into the middle of the lake, where the wisps of straw had been placed to show +that it was dangerous. It seemed to the mother that nothing could happen to him +as long as she stood on the shore watching him incessantly. But at last her feet +were quite frozen, and she had to go home.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the boy came home, as it was commencing to grow dark, he +was very bright. He spoke of the skating with great glee. "Oh, that was ripping. +I should like to run like that for ever--to-morrow, the day after +to-morrow--every day--and further and further every time. The lake is much too +small."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aren't you tired at all?" inquired his mother, smiling at +him. She never grew weary of gazing at him, he looked so beaming.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tired?" The corners of his mouth drooped with a smile that +was almost contemptuous. "I'm never tired. Not of such things. Cilia said she +would like to skate with me some time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, why not?" His father, who was sitting at the table +drinking his coffee, smiled good-humouredly; it amused him to tease the lively +boy a little. "Then your mother will have to engage a second housemaid, as long +as there's ice on the ground."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang did not understand that he was bantering. He cried +out, quite happy: "Yes, she must do that." But then his face grew long: "But she +has no skates, she says. Father, you'll have to buy her some."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'l be hanged if I will--well, what next?" His father gave a +loud laugh. "No, my boy, with all due <span class="pagenum">[Pg 151]</span> +respect to Cilia, it would be carrying it a little too far to let her skate. +Don't you agree with me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked at his wife, who was rattling the cups loudly, quite +contrary to her custom. She said nothing, she only gave a silent nod, but her +face had quite changed and grown cold.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy could not understand it. Why should Cilia not skate? +Did not his mother like her? Funny. It was always like that, whenever there was +anything he liked very, very much, she did not like it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He rested his head on both hands as he sat working at his +desk: it felt so heavy. His eyes burnt and watered when he fixed them on his +exercise-book--he must be tired, he supposed. His Latin would not be good. In +his mind's eye he already saw the master shrug his shoulders and hurl his book +on to the bench over so many heads: "Schlieben, ten faults. Boy, ten faults! If +you don't pull yourself together, you'll not get your remove to Form IV. with +the others at Easter."</p> + +<p class="normal">Pooh, he did not mind much--no, really not at all. On the +whole nothing was of any importance to him whatever. All at once he felt so +dead-tired. Why did she begrudge Cilia everything? She told such ripping +stories. What was it she had told last night when his parents were out and she +had crept to his bedside? About--about--? He could not collect his thoughts any +more, everything was confused.</p> + +<p class="normal">His head sank on his desk; he fell asleep, with his arms +stretched out over his books.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he awoke an hour might have passed by, but he did not +feel rested all the same. He stared round the room and shivered. All his limbs +ached.</p> + +<p class="normal">And they hurt him the whole night through, he could not sleep; +his feet were heavy as he dragged himself to the lake to skate next afternoon.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 152]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He returned home from skating much earlier than usual. He did +not want to eat or drink anything, he constantly felt sick. "How green the boy +looks to-day," said his father. His mother brushed his hair away from his +forehead anxiously: "Is anything the matter with you, Wölfchen?" He said no.</p> + +<p class="normal">But when evening came round again and the wind whispered in +the pine-trees outside and a ghostly hand tapped at the window--ugh, a small +white hand as in Cilia's song--he lay in bed, shivered with cold in spite of the +soft warm blankets, and felt his throat ache and his ears tingle and burn.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's ill," his mother said very anxiously next morning. +"We'll get the doctor to come at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it can't be anything much," said the man reassuringly. +"Leave him in bed, give him some lemon to drink so that he can perspire, and +then an aperient. He has eaten something that has disagreed with him, or he's +caught cold."</p> + +<p class="normal">But the doctor had to be telephoned for at noon. The boy was +slightly delirious and had a great deal of fever.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Scarlet fever!" The doctor examined his chest and then pulled +up the cover again very carefully. "But the rash isn't quite out yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Scarlet fever?" Käte thought she would have sunk down on her +knees--oh, she had always been so terribly afraid of that.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The clear frosty weather with the bright sunshine and a sky +that was almost as blue as in summer was over. Grey days with a heavy atmosphere +hung over the roof of the villa; Käte, who was standing at the window in the +sick-room, staring out at the tops of the pines that were mourning in the dull +mist with tired eyes, thought she had never seen anything greyer.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 153]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The disease had seized hold of the boy with powerful grip, as +though his vigorous, well-nourished body were just the sort of hot-bed for the +flames of the fever to rage in. The doctor shook his head: the scarlet fever had +taken such a mild form everywhere else except in this case. And he warned them +against the boy catching cold, prescribed this and that, did his best--not only +as his duty, no, but because he felt such deep and hearty sympathy for them--he +had always been so fond of the robust lad. They all did their best. Every +precaution was taken, every care--everything, everything was to be done for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was untiring. She had refused the assistance of a nurse; +she violently opposed the wishes both of her husband and her old friend; no, she +wanted to nurse her child alone. A mother does not grow tired, oh no.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul had never believed that his wife could do so much and be +so patient at the same time--she, that nervous woman, to be so untiring, so +undaunted. She had always had a light step, now she could not even be heard when +she glided through the sick-room; now she was on the left side of the bed, now +on the right. She, whose strength gave way so easily even if her intentions were +good, was always, always on the spot. There were many nights in which she did +not get an hour's sleep. Next morning she would sit like a shadow in the large +arm-chair near the bed, but still she was full of joy: Wolfgang had slept almost +two hours!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't do too much, don't do too much," implored her husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">She put him off with: "I don't feel it. I'm so fond of doing +it."</p> + +<p class="normal">How long was it to go on? Would, could her strength hold out? +"Let the girl sit up with him for one night at least. She would be so glad to +take your place."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 154]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Cilia? No."</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia had offered her services again and again: oh, she would +take such good care of him, she knew how, for a little brother of hers had died +of scarlet fever. "Let me do it," she implored, "I shall not fall asleep, I'll +take such good care of him."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Käte refused. It cut her to the heart every time she heard +her boy say in his feverish dreams during the nights that were so long and so +black: "Cillchen--we'll toss the hay--hooray--Cillchen."</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, how she hated that round-cheeked girl with her bright +eyes. But she feared her more than she hated her. In the hours of darkness, in +those hours in which she heard nothing but the sick boy's moans and the restless +beating of her own heart, this girl seemed to wander about in another form. She +appeared to her out of the night, large and broad, she stationed herself boldly +near the child's bed, and something of the triumph of power flashed in her eyes, +that were otherwise so dull and unintelligent.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the tired-out woman would press her hands to her +throbbing temples, and stretch out her arms as though to ward her off: no, no, +you there, go away! But the phantom remained standing at the child's bed. Who +was it: the mother--the Venn--the maid--Frau Lämke? Oh, they were all one.</p> + +<p class="normal">Tears of anguish rolled down Käte's cheeks. How the boy +laughed now. She stooped over him so closely that their breaths intermingled, as +she had done once before, and whispered to him: "Your mammy is here, your mammy +is with you."</p> + +<p class="normal">But he made no sign of recognition.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia's face was swollen with weeping as she opened the +kitchen door in the basement on hearing somebody give a gentle knock. Frau Lämke +greeted her in a <span class="pagenum">[Pg 155]</span> whisper; she had always +sent the children so far, but they had come home the day before with such a +confusing report, that her anxiety impelled her to come herself. She wanted to +ask how he was getting on. Two doctors' carriages stood outside the gate, and +that had terrified her anew.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How is he? How is he to-day?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The girl burst into tears. She drew the woman into the kitchen +in silence, where she found the cook leaning against the fireplace without +stirring any pan, and Friedrich just rushing upstairs to answer the electric +bell as if somebody were in pursuit of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear, dear!" Frau Lämke clasped her hands. "Is the boy so +bad, really so bad?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia only nodded and hid her streaming eyes in her apron, but +the cook said dully: "It's about over."</p> + +<p class="normal">"About over? Will he really die Wolfgang, the boy?" The woman +stared incredulously: that was impossible. But she had turned terribly pale.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, it's bad enough," said the cook. "Our doctor has called +in another professor, a very well-known one--he was here yesterday--but they +don't believe that they can do anything more. The illness has attacked the +kidneys and heart. He no longer knows anybody, you know. I was in the room this +morning, I wanted to see him once more--there he lay quite stiff and silent, as +though made of wax. I don't believe he'll pull through." The good-natured woman +wept.</p> + +<p class="normal">They all three wept, sitting round the kitchen table. Frau +Lämke entirely forgot that she had made up her mind never to enter that kitchen +again, and that her cabbage, that she had put on for their dinner, was probably +burning. "Oh, dear, oh dear," she repeated again and again, "how will she get +over it? Such a child--and an only child, whom she adored so."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 156]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Upstairs the doctors were standing at the sick-bed, the old +family doctor and the great authority, who was still a young man. They were +standing on the right and the left of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The rash had quite disappeared; there was not a trace of red +on the boy's face now, and his eyes with their extremely black lashes remained +persistently closed. His lips were blue. His broad chest, which was quite sunken +now, trembled and laboured.</p> + +<p class="normal">At every gasping breath he took his mother gasped too. She was +sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, stiffly erect; she had sat like that +the whole night. Her piercing eyes with their terrified expression flew to the +doctors' grave faces, and then stared past them into space. There they stood, to +the right and to the left--but there, there!--did they not see it?--there at the +head of the bed stood Death!</p> + +<p class="normal">She started up with an inarticulate sound, then sank down +again as though broken in spirit.</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctors had given the child, who was so dangerously ill, +an injection; his heart was very weak, which made them fear the worst. Then the +authority took leave: "I'll come again to-morrow"--but a shrug of the shoulders +and a "Who knows?" lay in that "I'll come again to-morrow."</p> + +<p class="normal">The family doctor was still there; he could not leave them, as +he was their friend. Käte had clung to him: "Help! Help my child!" Now he was +sitting with Paul Schlieben downstairs in his study; Käte had wished to remain +alone with the sick boy, she only wanted to know that he was near.</p> + +<p class="normal">The two men sat in silence with a glass of strong wine before +them. "Drink, do drink, my dear friend," Paul Schlieben had said to the doctor; +but he did not drink himself. How will she stand it, how will she <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 157]</span> stand it? That buzzed in his head the whole time. He was wrapped +in thought, and there were deep lines on his forehead. And the doctor did not +disturb him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was on her knees upstairs. She had sunk down in front of +the chair in which she had watched through all those anxious nights, and was +holding her hands pressed against her upturned face. She was seeking the God on +high who had once upon a time laid the child so benignantly in her path, and was +now going to cruelly tear it away from her again. She cried to God in her heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">"O God, O God, don't take him from me. Thou must not take him +from me. I have nothing else in the world beside him. God, God!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her surroundings, all her other possessions--also her +husband--were forgotten. She had only the child now. That one child that was so +dear, so good, so clever, so excellent, so obedient, so beautiful, so charming, +so extremely lovable, that had made her life so happy, so rich that she would be +poor, poor as a beggar were he to leave her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen, my Wölfchen!"</p> + +<p class="normal">How dear he had always, always been; so entirely her child. +She did not remember anything more about the tears she had shed on his account; +if she had ever shed any, they had been tears of joy, yes, only tears of joy. +No, she could not do without him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Starting up from the position in which she had been praying +she dragged herself to his bedside. She took his body, which was growing cold, +into her arms and laid it on her breast in her despair, and her glowing breath +passed all over him. She wanted to let all her warmth stream into him, to hold +him fast to this earth with the force of her will-power. When his breast fought +for air, her breast fought too, when his heart-beat flagged, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 158]</span> hers flagged too. She felt that his coldness was making her +cold, that her arms were stiffening. But she did not let him go. She fought with +Death standing at the head of the bed--who was stronger, Death or her love, the +mother's love?</p> + +<p class="normal">Nobody could get her away from the boy's bed, not even the +nurse whom Dr. Hofmann had sent out when he had at last been compelled to go to +town that afternoon. The nurse and her husband attempted to raise her by gentle +force: "Only an hour's rest, only half an hour's. In the next room or here on +the sofa."</p> + +<p class="normal">But she shook her head and remained on her knees: "I'm holding +him, I'm holding him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Evening came on. Then midnight. It had blown a good deal +earlier in the day, but it was very quiet outside now. As quiet as death. There +was no longer any wind to shake the pines around the house; they stood bolt +upright against the clear, frosty sky, their tops as though cut out of stiff +cardboard. The stars blinked mercilessly; the full moon was reflected on the +glittering silvery surface of the frozen lake, from which the strong wind had +swept all the damp snow the day before and made it clean. A terrible cold had +set hi all at once, which seemed to lay hold of everything with its icy breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">The watchers shivered with cold. When Paul Schlieben looked at +the thermometer, he was horrified to see how little it registered even in the +room. Was the heating apparatus not in order? You could see your own breath. Had +the servants forgotten to put coals on?</p> + +<p class="normal">He went down into the basement himself; he could have rung, +but he felt he must do something. Oh, how terribly little you could do. His wife +cowered in the arm-chair in silence now, with large, staring eyes; the nurse was +half asleep, nothing stirred in the room. The boy, too, was lying as quietly as +if he were already dead.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 159]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">A great dread took possession of the man, as he groped his way +through the dark house. There was something so paralysing in the silence; all at +once everything, the rooms, the staircase, the hall seemed so strange to him. +Strange and empty. How the breath of youth had filled them with life before, +filled them with the whole untamed thoughtlessness of a wild boy!</p> + +<p class="normal">He leant heavily on the banisters as he groped his way +downstairs. Would the servants still be up?</p> + +<p class="normal">He found them all there. They sat shivering round the table in +the kitchen, which was as cold as though there had not been a bright, blazing +fire there all day. The cook had made some strong coffee, but even that did not +make them any warmer. An icy cold crept through the whole house; it was as +though the ice and snow from outside had come in, as though the chill breath of +frozen nature were sweeping through the house too, from attic to cellar.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was no use throwing more coals into the jaws of the huge +stove, or that the water that streamed through all the pipes was hotter. +Nobody's feet or hands were any warmer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We will try what a very hot bath will do for the patient," +said the nurse. She had often seen this last remedy rewarded with success in +similar cases.</p> + +<p class="normal">All hands were busy. The cook made a fire, the other two +dragged the boiling water upstairs; but Cilia carried more and was quicker about +it than Friedrich. She felt all the inexhaustible strength of youth in her that +is glad to be able to do something. How willingly she did it for that good boy. +And she murmured a short prayer in a low voice every time she poured a bucketful +into the tub that had been placed near the bed. She could not make the sign of +the cross, as neither of her hands was at liberty, but she was sure the saints +would hear her all the same.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 160]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Holy Mary! Holy Joseph! Holy Barbara! Holy guardian angel! +Holy Michael, fight for him!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The cook, who remained downstairs in the kitchen, looked for +her hymn-book; she was a Protestant and did not use it every day. When she found +it she opened it at random: the words would be sure to suit. Oh dear! She showed +it to Friedrich, trembling. There was written:</p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"When my end is drawing nigh,<br> +Ah, leave me not----"</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">Oh dear, the boy was to die. They were both as though +paralysed with terror.</p> + +<p class="normal">Meanwhile nimble Cilia was flying up and down stairs. She did +not feel so dismayed any longer. He would not die, she was sure of that now.</p> + +<p class="normal">Whilst those who were in the room lifted him into the bath, +Paul Schlieben and the nurse, and his mother placed her feeble hands underneath +him to support him, Cilia stood outside the door and called upon all her saints. +She would have liked to have had her manual of devotion, her "Angels' Bread," +but there was no time to fetch it. So she only stammered her "Help" and "Have +mercy," her "Hail" and "Fight for him," with all the fervour of her faith.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the boy's pallid cheeks began to redden. A sigh passed his +lips, which had not opened to utter a sound for so long. He was warm when they +put him back into the bed. Very soon he was hot; the fever commenced again.</p> + +<p class="normal">The nurse looked anxious: "Now ice. We shall have to try what +ice-bags will do."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ice! Ice!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is there any ice in the house?" Paul Schlieben hurried from +the sick-room. He almost hit the girl's forehead with the door as she stood +praying outside.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ice! Ice! They both ran down together. But the <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 161]</span> cook was at her wits' end too; no, there was no ice, they had +not thought any would be required.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go and get some, quick."</p> + +<p class="normal">The man-servant rushed off, but oh! before he could reach the +shop, awake somebody and return, the flame upstairs might have burnt so fiercely +that there was nothing left of the poor little candle. The man looked round, +almost out of his mind with anxiety, and he saw Cilia with a chopper and pail +running to the back-door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm going to fetch some ice."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But where?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Down there." She laughed and raised her arm so that the +chopper glittered. "There's plenty of ice in the lake. I'm going to chop some."</p> + +<p class="normal">She was already out of the kitchen; he ran after her without a +hat, without a cap, with only the thin coat on he wore in the house.</p> + +<p class="normal">The terrors of the night gave way before the faint hope, and +he did not feel the cold at first. But when the villas were lost sight of behind +the pines, when he stood quit alone on the banks of the frozen lake that shone +like a hard shield of metal, surrounded by silent black giants, he felt so cold +that he thought he should freeze to death. And he was filled with a terror he +had never felt the like to before a--deadly fear.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was not that a voice he heard? Hallo! Did it not come from the +wood that had the appearance of a thicket in the blue, confusing glitter of the +moonlight? And it mocked and bantered, half laughed, half moaned. Terrible. Who +was shrieking so?</p> + +<p class="normal">"The owl's screeching," said Cilia, and she raised the chopper +over her shoulder with both hands and let it whiz down with all her might. The +ice at the edge splintered, It cracked and broke; the sound was heard far out on +the lake, a growling, a grumbling, a voice out of the deep.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Would the boy die--would he live?</p> + +<p class="normal">The man gazed around him with a distraught look. O God! Yes, +that was also in vain--would also be in vain. Despite all his courage he felt +weak as he stood there. Here was night and loneliness and the wood and the +water--he had seen it all before, it was familiar to him--but it had never been +like this, so quiet and still, so alive with terrors. The trees had never been +so high before, the lake never so large, the world in which they lived never so +far away.</p> + +<p class="normal">Something seemed to be lurking behind that large pine--was a +gamekeeper not standing there aiming at him, ready to shoot an arrow through his +heart? The silence terrified him. This deep silence was awful. True, the blows +of the chopper resounded, he could hear the echo across the lake, and nothing +deterred Cilia from doing her work--he admired the girl's calmness--but the +menace that lay in the silence did not grow any less.</p> + +<p class="normal">The distracted man shuddered again and again: no, he knew it +now--oh, how distinctly he felt it--nobody could do anything against that +invisible power. Everything was in vain.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was filled with a great grief. He seized hold of the pieces +of ice the girl had chopped off with both hands, and put them into the pail; he +tore his clothes, he cut himself on the jagged edges that were as sharp as +glass, but he did not feel any physical pain. The blood dripped down from his +fingers.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now something began to flow from his eyes, to drip down +his cheeks, heavy and clammy--slow, almost reluctant tears. But still the hot +tears of a father who is weeping for his child.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 163]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">"Dear me, how big you've grown!" said Frau Lämke. "I suppose +we shall soon have to treat you as a grown-up gentleman and say 'sir' to you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never!" Wolfgang threw his arms round her neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman was quite taken aback: was that Wolfgang? He was +hardly to be recognised after his illness so approachable. And although he had +always been a good boy, he had never been so affectionate as he was now. And how +merry he was, he laughed, his eyes positively sparkled as if they had been +polished.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was full of animal spirits and a never-ending, +indomitable joyousness. He did not know what to do with himself. He could not +sit still for a moment, his arms twitched, his feet scraped the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">His master stood in terror of him. He alone, the one boy, made +the whole of the fourth form that had always been so exemplary run wild. And +still one could not really be downright angry with him. When the tired man, who +had had to give the same lessons year after year, sit at the same desk, give the +same dictations, set the same tasks, hear the same pieces read, repeat the same +things, had to reprove the boy, something like a gentle sadness was mingled with +the reproof, which softened it: yes, that was delight in existence, health, +liveliness, unconsumed force--that was youth.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang did not mind the scoldings he got, he had no ambition +to become head of his form. He laughed at the master, and could not even get +himself to lower his head and look sad when his mother waved a bad report in his +face in her nervous excitement: "So that's all one gets in return for all one's +worry?"</p> + +<p class="normal">How ambitious women are! Paul Schlieben smiled; he took it +more calmly. Well, he had not had the hard work that Käte had had. As the boy +had missed so many lessons owing to his illness, she had sat with him every day, +and written and read and done sums and learnt words and rules and repeated them +with him indefatigably, and set him exercises herself besides the schoolwork, +and in this manner he had succeeded in getting his remove into the fourth form +with the others at Easter, in spite of the weeks and weeks he had been away from +school. She had drawn a deep breath of relief: ah, a mountain had been climbed. +But still the road was not straight by any means. When the first blackbirds +began to sing in the garden he became No. 15 in his form--that is to say, an +average pupil--when the first nightingale trilled he was not even among the +average, and when summer came he was among the last in his form.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was too tempting to sow, plant, and water the garden, to +lie on the grass in the warm sunshine and have a sun bath. And still better to +rove about out of doors along the edges of the wood or bathe in the lake and +swim far out, so far that the other boys would call out to him: "Come back, +Schlieben, you'll be drowned."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Be thankful that there is so much life in him," said Paul to +his wife. "Who would have thought only six months ago that he would ever be like +this? It is fortunate that he isn't fond of sitting indoors. 'Plenty of fresh +air,' Hofmann said, 'plenty of movement. Such <span class="pagenum">[Pg 165]</span> +a severe illness always does some harm to the constitution.' So let us choose +the lesser of two evils. But still the rascal must remember that he has duties +to perform as well."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was difficult to combine the two. Käte felt she was +becoming powerless. When the boy's eyes, which were as bright as sloes, implored +her to let him go out, she dared not keep him back. She knew he had not finished +his school-work, had perhaps not even commenced it; but had not Paul said: "One +must choose the lesser of two evils," and the doctor: "Such a severe illness +always leaves some weakness behind, therefore a good deal of liberty"?</p> + +<p class="normal">She suddenly trembled for his life; the horror of his illness +was still fresh in her mind. Oh, those nights! Those last terrible hours in +which the fever had risen higher and higher after the hot bath, the pulse and +the poor heart had rushed along at a mad pace, until the ice from the lake had +at last, at last brought coolness, and he had fallen into a sound sleep, which, +when the sky commenced to glow in the east and a new day had looked in through +the window, had turned into a beneficial, miraculous perspiration.</p> + +<p class="normal">So she had to let the boy run about.</p> + +<p class="normal">But that he hung on Cilia's arm when she had to go an errand +in the evening, that he hurried after her when she only took a letter to the +box, or that he brought her a chair when she wanted to sit with her +mending-basket under the elderberry bush near the kitchen door was not to be +tolerated. When Käte heard that Cilia had not gone further than the nearest +pines on the edge of the wood when it was her Sunday out, and had sat there for +hours with the boy on the grass, there was a scene.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia wept bitter tears. What had she done? She had only told +Wölfchen about her home.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 166]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"What's your home to him? He is to mind his own business and +you yours." Käte was about to say still more, to cry out: "Leave off telling him +your private concerns, I won't have it," but she controlled herself, although +with difficulty. She could have boxed this round-cheeked girl's ears, as she +looked at her so boldly with her bright eyes. Even Frida Lämke was preferable to +her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Frida did not show herself very often now. She already +wore a dress that reached to her ankles, attended a sewing class out of +school-hours, and after her confirmation, which was to be a year next Easter she +was to go "to business," as she said very importantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall give her notice," said Käte one evening, when Cilia +had cleared the table and she was sitting quite alone with her husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh!" He had not really been listening. "Why?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Because of her behaviour." The woman's voice vibrated with +suppressed indignation more than that, with passionate excitement. Her eyes, +which were generally golden brown and gentle, became dark and sombre.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, you're actually trembling! What is the matter now?" He +laid the paper he was about to read aside, quite depressed. There was some +trouble with the boy again; nothing else excited her in that manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can't have it any longer." Her voice was hard, had lost its +charm. "And I won't stand it. Just think, when I came home to-day I was away an +hour towards evening, hardly an hour good gracious, you cannot always be spying, +you demean yourself in your own eyes." Her hands closed over each other, gripped +each other so tightly that the knuckles showed quite white. "I had left him at +his desk, he had so much to do, and when I returned not a stroke had been done. <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 167]</span> +But I heard--heard them downstairs, at the back of the house near the kitchen +door."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Heard whom?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang and her, of course--Cilia. I had only been away +quite a short time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well--and then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She had stopped and sighed, full of a deep distress which +drove away the anger from her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He put his arms round her neck from behind. And he kissed +her. 'Dear Cillchen,' he said. And she drew him towards her, took him almost on +her lap--he is much too big for that, much too big--and spoke softly to him the +whole time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Did you understand what she said?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No. But they laughed. And then she gave him a slap +behind--you should only have seen it--and then he gave her one. They took turns +to slap each other. Do you consider that proper?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That goes too far, you are right. But it's nothing bad. She +is a good girl, quite unspoilt as yet, and he a stupid boy. Surely you don't +intend to send the girl away for that? For goodness' sake, Käte, think it well +over. Did they see you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, then, don't do it. It's much wiser. I'll speak to the +boy some time when I find an opportunity."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And you think I couldn't--I can't--I mustn't send her away?" +Käte had grown quite dejected in the presence of his calmness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's no reason whatever for it." He was fully convinced of +what he said, and wanted to take up his paper again. Then he caught her eyes, +and stretched out his hand to her across the table. "Dear child, don't take +everything so much to heart. You're making your life miserable--your own, the +boy's--and--yes, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 168]</span> +mine too. Take things easier. There! And now I'll read my paper at last."</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte got up quietly--he was all right, he was reading. She had +not given him her hand. His calmness hurt her. It was more than calmness, it was +indifference, slackness. But she would not be slack, no, she would not get tired +of doing her duty.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she went after her boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was already upstairs in his room. But he had first +crept softly up to Cilia, who was drying the plates and dishes in the kitchen, +from behind, had given her a pinch and then thrown both arms round her and +begged for a story: "Tell me something"--but she would not.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, do tell me something. About the procession. Or even if +it's only about your sow. How many little ones did she have last time?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thirteen." Cilia could not resist <i>that</i> question, but +still she remained taciturn.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is your cow going to calve this year too? How many cows has +the biggest farmer near you? You know, the one down near the Warthe, Hauländer. +Do tell me." He knew all about everything, knew all the people at her home and +all the cattle. He could never get tired of hearing about them and about the +country where the bells tinkle for matins and vespers or call with a deep, +solemn sound for high mass on Sundays. He was so very fond of hearing about the +country, about the large fields in which the blue flax and golden rye grow, +about the bluish line of forest on the horizon, about the wide, wide stretches +of heath, where the bees buzz busily over the blooming heather and the fen-fowls +screech near the quiet waters in the evening, when the sky and the sun are +reflected red in them.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 169]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell me about it," he begged and urged her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she was reluctant and shook her head. "No, go away; no, I +won't. The mistress has been looking at me like that again this evening--oh, +like--no, I can't explain. I believe she's going to give me notice."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had crept up to his room in a sulk and undressed himself. +He had grown so accustomed to it that he could not sleep now when Cilia did not +tell him something first. Then he fell into such a quiet sleep, and dreamt so +beautifully of wide stretches of heather covered with red blossoms, and of quiet +waters near which the fen-fowls screeched, which he went out to shoot.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, that Cilia, what was the matter with her to-day? How +stupid! "The mistress is going to give me notice." Nonsense, as if he would +stand that. And he clenched his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the door creaked.</p> + +<p class="normal">He craned his neck forward: was it she? Was she coming, after +all? It was his mother. He slipped hastily into bed and drew the covering up to +his forehead. Let her think he was already asleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she did not think so and said: "So you're still awake?" +and she sat down on the chair near his bed on which his things were. Cilia +always sat there too. He compared the two faces in silence. Oh, Cilia was much +prettier, so white and red, and she had dimples in her fat cheeks when she +laughed, and she was so jolly. But his mother was not ugly either.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked at her attentively; and then suddenly a hitherto +quite unknown feeling came over him: oh, what narrow cheeks she had. And the +soft hair near her temples--was--was----</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're getting quite grey," he said all at once, quite +dismayed, and stretched out his finger. "There, quite grey."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 170]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She nodded. A look of displeasure lengthened her delicate +face, and made it appear still narrower.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You should laugh more," he advised. "Then people would never +see you had wrinkles."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wrinkles--oh yes, wrinkles. She passed her hand over her +forehead nervously. What uncharitable eyes children had. Youth and beauty had no +doubt disappeared for ever--but it was this boy who had deprived her of the last +remnant of them. And it sounded like a reproach as she said: "Sorrow has done +that. Your serious illness and--and----" she hesitated: should she begin now +about what troubled her so?"--and many other things," she concluded with a sigh.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I can understand that," he said naïvely. "You're so old, +too."</p> + +<p class="normal">Well, he was honest, she had to confess that; but he said it +without a trace of tender feeling. She could not suppress a slight irritation; +it was not pleasant to be reminded of your age by your child. "I'm not so old as +all that," she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I don't mean either that you're <i>very</i> old. But +still much older than Cilia, for example."</p> + +<p class="normal">She winced--he always brought in that person.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cilia is a pretty girl, don't you think so, mother?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She got so angry that she lost control of herself. "Do you +think so?" she said curtly, rising. "She's leaving on the first of October."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She's leaving? Oh no!" He stared at her incredulously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, yes." She felt she was cruel, but could she be +otherwise? His disbelieving tone expressed such terror. "She's leaving. I'm +going to give her notice."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh no, you won't." He laughed. "You won't do that."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 171]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, I will." She emphasised each word; it sounded +irrevocable.</p> + +<p class="normal">He still shook his head incredulously: it could not be. But +then he suddenly remembered Cilia's depression and her words that evening: "I +suppose she's going to give me notice." "No, you shan't do so." He started up in +bed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall not ask you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, you shan't, you shan't," he cried. All at once Cilia +moved across his mental vision, her ingenuous eyes looked at him so sadly--he +liked her so much--and she was to go? He was seized with fury.</p> + +<p class="normal">"She shan't go, she shan't go," he howled, and shouted it +louder and louder: "She shan't go." He was in a mad, indescribable frame of +mind. He threw himself back, stretched himself out and struck the bedstead with +his feet, so that it creaked in all the joints.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was terrified; she had never seen him so violent before. +But how right she was. His behaviour showed her that plainly. No, she must not +call herself cruel even if his tears flowed; it was necessary that Cilia went. +But she was sorry for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen," she said persuasively, "why, Wölfchen. She tried +to soothe him, and drew up his cover that had fallen down with gentle hand. But +as soon as she touched him he pushed her away.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen--Wölfchen--you with your Wölfchen! As if I were a +baby still. My name is Wolfgang. And you are unjust--envious--you only want her +to go away because I like her better, much better than you."</p> + +<p class="normal">He shouted in her face, and she became deathly white. She felt +as though she must scream with pain. She who had suffered so much for his sake +was of less account than Cilia in his opinion? All at once she remembered all <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 172]</span> the burning and ineffaceable tears she had already shed for his +sake. And of all the hard hours during his illness none had been so hard as this +one.</p> + +<p class="normal">She forgot that he was still a child, a naughty boy. Had he +not said himself: "I'm not a child any longer"? His behaviour seemed +unpardonable. She left the room without a word.</p> + +<p class="normal">He followed her with eyes full of dismay: had he hurt her? All +at once he was conscious that he had done so--oh no, he did not want to do that. +He had already got half out of bed to run after her on his bare feet, to hold +her fast by her dress and say: "Are you angry?"--when he suddenly remembered +Cilia again. No, it was too bad of her to tell her to go.</p> + +<p class="normal">He wept as he crept under the bed-clothes and folded his +hands. Cilia had told him he was to pray to the Holy Virgin, to that smiling +woman in the blue mantle covered with stars, who sits on a throne over the altar +with the crown on her head. She healed everything. And when she asked God in +Heaven for anything, He did it. He would pray to her now.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia had once taken him to her church, when his mother was at +the baths and his father in the Tyrol. He had had to promise her not to tell +anybody about it, and the charm of the secrecy had increased the charm of the +church. An unconscious longing drew him to those altars, where the saints looked +so beautiful and where you could see God incarnate, to whom he had been told to +pray as to a father. He had never liked the church so much which his mother +sometimes went to, and in which he had also been.</p> + +<p class="normal">That longing, which had clung to him ever since like a fairy +tale, now came over him forcibly and vividly. Yes, it was beautiful to be able +to kneel like that before the Holy Virgin, who was lovelier than all women on <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 173]</span> earth, and hardly had you laid your request before her when its +fulfilment was insured. Splendid!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hail Mary!" Cilia's prayer began like that. He did not know +any more, but he repeated the words many times. And now he smelt the incense +again, which had filled the whole church with perfume, heard again the little +bell announcing the transubstantiation, saw the Lord's anointed with the +splendid stole over his chasuble bow first to the left of the altar, then to the +right. Oh, how he envied the boys in their white surplices, who were allowed to +kneel near him. Blessed harmonies floated under the high, arched dome:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"Procedenti ab utroque<br> + Compar sit laudatio----"</p> +</div> +<p class="continue">They had sung something like that. And then the priest had +raised the gleaming monstrance on high, and all the people had bowed deeply: +<i> Qui vivis et regnas in sæcula sæculorum.</i> Yes, he had remembered +<i> that</i> Latin well. He would never forget it all his life.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia had had to nudge him and whisper: "Come, we're going +now," otherwise he would have remained kneeling much longer in the magnificent +and still cosy church, in which nothing was cold and strange.</p> + +<p class="normal">If only he could go there again. Cilia had certainly promised +to take him if she found an opportunity--but now she was to go away, and the +opportunity would never come. What a pity. He was filled with a great regret and +defiance at the same time; no, he would not go to the church his mother went to, +and where the boys from his school went.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he whispered again, "Hail, Mary!" and the hot and angry +tears that had been running down his cheeks ceased as he whispered it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had climbed out of his bed, and was kneeling by the side of +it on the carpet, his clasped hands raised in <span class="pagenum">[Pg 174]</span> +prayer, as he had seen the angels do in the altar-piece. His eyes sparkled and +were wide open, his defiance melted into fervour.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he at last got into bed again, and his excessive fatigue +had calmed his agitation and he had fallen asleep, he dreamt of the beautiful +Virgin Mary, whose features were well known to him, and he felt his heart burn +for her.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span>/p> + +<p class="normal">It was a fortnight later, the first of October, that Cilla +left her situation. Käte had given her a good character; it was still not clear +to the girl why she had been dismissed, even when she stood in the street. The +lady wanted an older, more experienced maid--that was what she had said--but +Cilia did not quite believe that, she felt vaguely that there was another +reason: she simply did not like her. She would go home for a short time before +taking another situation, she felt homesick, and it had been difficult for her +to leave the place--on account of the boy. How he had cried, even yesterday +evening. He had hung on her neck and kissed her many times like a little child, +that big boy. And there was so much he still wanted to say to her. They had been +standing together upstairs in the dark passage, and then the mistress's step as +she came up the stairs had driven them away; he was just able to escape to his +room.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she had not even been able to say good-bye to him to-day, +the good boy. For he had hardly gone to school when her mistress said: "There, +now you can go." She was quite taken aback, for she had not reckoned on getting +away before the afternoon. But the new housemaid, an elderly person with a +pointed face, had already come, so what was there for her to do? So all she had +done was to wrap up all the pictures of <span class="pagenum">[Pg 175]</span> +the saints she kept in her prayer-book quickly in paper, and stick them into the +drawer in the table that stood at the boy's bedside--he would be sure to find +them there--after she had written "Love from Cilia" on them. Then she had gone +away.</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia had sent her basket on by goods train, and she had +nothing to carry now but a little leather bag and a cardboard box tied with +string. So she could get on quickly. But on her way to the station she stopped +all at once: the school would be over at one o'clock, it was almost eleven now, +it really did not matter if she left somewhat later. How pleased he would be if +she said good-bye to him once more and begged him not to forget her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She turned round. She would be sure to find a bench near the +school, and there she would wait for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The passers-by looked curiously at the young girl who had +posted herself near the school like a soldier, stiff and silent. Cilia had not +found a bench; she dared not go far from the entrance for fear of missing him. +So she placed the cardboard box on the ground, and stood with her little bag on +her arm. Now and then she asked somebody what time it was. The time passed +slowly. At last it was almost one. Then she felt her heart beat: the good boy! +In her thoughts she could already see his dark eyes flash with joy, hear his +amazed: "Cillchen! You?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Cilia pushed her hat straight on her beautiful fair hair, and +stared fixedly at the school-door with a more vivid red on her red cheeks: the +bell would soon ring--then he would come rushing out--then--. All at once she +saw the boy's mother. She? Frau Schlieben was approaching the door with quick +steps. Oh dear!</p> + +<p class="normal">A few quick bounds brought her behind a bush: did she intend +fetching her Wolfgang herself to-day? <span class="pagenum">[Pg 176]</span> Oh, +then she would have to go. And she stole away to the station, full of grief. The +joy that had made her heart beat had all disappeared; but she still had one +consolation: Wolfgang would not forget her. No, never!</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was much surprised to see his mother. Surely he need +not be fetched? She had never done that herself before. He was disagreeably +impressed. Was he a baby? The others would make fun of him. He felt very +indignant, but his mother's kindness disarmed him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was specially tender that day, and very talkative. She +inquired about everything they had been doing at school, she did not even scold +when he confessed he had had ten faults in his Latin composition; on the +contrary, she promised he should make an excursion to Schildhorn that afternoon. +It was such a beautiful, sunny autumn day, almost like summer. The boy sauntered +along beside her, quite content, dangling his books at the end of the long +strap. He had quite forgotten for the moment that Cilia was to leave that day.</p> + +<p class="normal">But when they came home and the strange maid answered the +door, he opened his eyes wide, and when they sat down at table and the new girl +with the pointed face, who did not look at all like a servant, brought in the +dishes, he could not contain himself any longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where's Cilia?" he asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"She has gone away--you know it," said his mother in a casual +tone of voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Away?" He turned pale and then crimson. So she had gone +without saying good-bye to him! All at once he had no appetite, although he had +been so hungry before. Every mouthful choked him; he looked stiffly at his +plate--he dared not look up for fear of crying.</p> + +<p class="normal">His parents spoke of this and that--all trivial matters <span class="pagenum">[Pg +177]</span>--and a voice within him cried: "Why has she gone without +saying good-bye to me?" It hurt him very much. He could not understand it--she +was so fond of him. How could she have found it in her heart to go away without +letting him know where he could find her? His Cillchen to leave him like that! +Oh, she could not have done so--not of her own free will, oh no, no. And just +when he was at school.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was seized with a sudden suspicion: he had not thought of +such a thing before, but now it was clear to him--oh, he was not so stupid as +all that--she had had to go just because he was at school. His mother had never +liked Cilia, and she had not wanted her to say good-bye to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy cast angry glances at his mother from under his +lowered lashes: that was horrid of her.</p> + +<p class="normal">He rose from the table full of suppressed wrath, and dragged +his feet up the stairs to his room. He found the pictures of the saints that had +been stuck into his drawer at once--"With love from Cilia"--and then he gave way +to his fury and his grief. He stamped with his feet and kissed the gaudy +pictures, and his tears made lots of dark spots on them. Then he rushed +downstairs into the dining-room, where his father was still sitting at the table +and his mother packing cakes and fruit into her small bag. Oh, she had wanted to +go for a walk with him. That would be the very last thing he would do.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where has Cilia gone? Why haven't you let her say good-bye to +me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">His mother gazed at him, petrified; how did the boy guess her +innermost thoughts? She could not utter a word. But he did not let her speak +either, his boy's voice, which was still high, cracked and then became deep and +hoarse: "Yes, you--oh, I know it quite well <span class="pagenum">[Pg 178]</span>--you did not want +her to say good-bye to me. You've sent her away so that I should not see her any +more--yes, you! That's horrid of you! That's--that's vile!" He went towards her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She shrank back slowly--he raised his hands--was he going to +strike her?</p> + +<p class="normal">"You rascal!" His father's hand seized him by the scruff of +his neck. "How dare you? Raise your hand against your mother?" The angry man +shook the boy until his teeth chattered, and did so again and again. "You--you +rascal, you good-for-nothing!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"She didn't let her say good-bye to me," the boy screamed as +an answer. "She's sent her away because--because----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You still dare to speak to----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes! Why didn't she let Cilia say good-bye to me? She never +did anything to her. I loved her and it was for that, only for that----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Silence!" He gave the boy a violent blow on the mouth. The +man no longer recognised himself; his calmness had abandoned him, the boy's +obstinacy made him lose his temper. How he struggled against the hand that was +holding him, how he stared at him with his bold eyes. How dared he shout at him +like that? "You"--he shook him--"so you are so insolent? So ungrateful? What +would have become of you? You would have died in misery--yes--it's she who has +made something out of you--who picked you up out of----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Paul!" His wife's scream interrupted the man. Käte seized +hold of his arm as though she were out of her mind: "No, no, leave him. You are +not to--no!" She held her hand in front of his mouth. And when he pushed her +away angrily and seized hold of the boy more firmly, she tore him away from him +and pressed <span class="pagenum">[Pg 179]</span> his head against her dress as +if to protect him. She held her hand before his ears. Her face was deathly +white, and, turning her dilated eyes to her husband, she implored him full of +terror: "Not a word! I beseech you, I beseech you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man's anger had not yet cooled. Käte must really have lost +her senses. Why did she take the boy away from the punishment he so richly +deserved? He approached the boy once more with a hard: "Well, really, Käte I'm +not going to condone this."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she fled with him to the door and pushed him outside, +bolted it and then placed herself in front of it, as though to bar her husband's +egress.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now Wolfgang had gone. They were both alone now, she and her +husband, and with a cry full of reproach: "You had almost betrayed it to him," +she tottered to the sofa. She fell rather than sat down on it, and broke out in +hopeless weeping.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben strode up and down the room. He had indeed +almost allowed himself to be carried away by his indignation. But would it have +been a misfortune if he had told the boy about it? Let him know where he came +from, and that he had nothing, really nothing whatever to do there. That he +received everything as a favour. It was absolutely unnecessary--in fact, more +prejudicial than desirable--to keep it a secret from him. But if she would not +allow it on any account!</p> + +<p class="normal">He interrupted his walk to and fro, remained standing before +his wife, who was weeping in the corner of the sofa, and looked down at her. He +felt so extremely sorry for her. That was the reward for all her kindness, her +unselfishness, for all her devotion! He laid his hand softly on her drooping +head without saying a word.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she started up suddenly and caught hold of his hand: "And +don't do anything to him, please. Don't <span class="pagenum">[Pg 180]</span> +hit him. It's my fault--he guessed it. I did not like her, I gave her notice, +and then I sent her away secretly--only because he loved her, only for that +reason. I feared her. Paul, Paul"--she wrung her hands repentantly--"oh, Paul, I +stand abashed before the child, I stand abashed before myself."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was sitting huddled up in his room, holding the +pictures of the saints in his hand. Those were now his most costly, his only +possessions; a precious memory. Where could she be now? Still in the Grunewald? +Already in Berlin? Or much further? Oh, how he longed for her. He missed the +friendly face that was always smiling secretly at him, and his longing for her +increased until he could not bear it any longer. There was no one there who +loved him as she did whom he loved as he had loved her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now that Cilia was gone he forgot that he had often laughed at +her and played tricks on her, and had also quarrelled with her in a boyish +manner. His longing for her grew and grew, and her figure grew as well. It +became so large and so strong, so powerful that it took his eyes away from +everything else that still surrounded him. He threw himself on the carpet and +dug his fingers into it; he had to hold himself in that manner, otherwise he +would have broken everything to bits, everything, big and small.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was his father's step on the stairs. He shook the +door-handle. Let him shake it. Wolfgang had locked himself in.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Open at once!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah, now he was to have a whipping. Wolfgang wiped his tears +away hastily, gnashed his teeth and closed his lips tightly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, are you soon going to do it?" The handle was shaken +louder and louder.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 181]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Then he went and opened it. His father stepped in. Not with +the stick the boy expected to see in his hand, but with anger and grief written +on his brow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come down at once. You have hurt your poor, good--much too +good--mother very much. Come to her and ask her pardon. Show her that you are +sorry; do you hear? Come."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy did not move. He stared past his father into space +with an unutterably unhappy, but at the same time obstinate expression on his +face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are to come--don't you hear? Your mother is waiting."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not coming," Wolfgang muttered; he hardly opened his lips +at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What?" The man stared at the boy without speaking, quite +dismayed at so much audacity.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy returned his look, straight and bold. His young face +was so pale that his dark eyes appeared still darker, a dense black.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bad eyes," said the man to himself. And suddenly a suspicion +took possession of him, a suspicion that was old and long forgotten, but still +had slumbered in the recesses of his heart in spite of everything and had now +all at once been roused again, and he seized hold of the boy, gripped hold of +his chest so tightly that he made no further resistance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Boy! Rascal! Have you no heart? She who has done so much for +you, she, she is waiting for you and you, you won't come? On your knees, I say. +Go on in front--ask her pardon. At once." And he seized the boy, who showed no +emotion whatever, by the scruff of his neck instead of by his chest, and shoved +him along in front of him down the stairs and into the room where Käte was +sitting buried in her grief, her eyes red with weeping.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 182]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Here's somebody who wants to beg your pardon," said the man, +pushing the boy down in front of her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang would have liked to cry out: "No, I won't beg her +pardon, and especially not now"--and then all at once he felt so sorry for her. +Oh, she was just as unhappy as he--they did not suit each other, that was it. +This knowledge came to him all at once, and it deepened his glance and sharpened +the features of his young face so much that he looked old beyond his years.</p> + +<p class="normal">He jerked out with a sob: "Beg your pardon." He did not hear +himself how much agony was expressed in his voice, he hardly felt either that +her arms lifted him up, that he lay on her breast for some moments and she +stroked his hair away from his burning brow. It was as if he were half +unconscious; he only felt a great emptiness and a vague misery.</p> + +<p class="normal">As in a dream he heard his father say: "There, that's right. +Now go and work. And be a better boy." And his mother's soft voice: "Yes, he's +sure to be that." He went upstairs as though he were walking in his sleep. He +was to work now--why? What was the object? Everything was so immaterial to him. +It was immaterial whether these people praised or blamed him--what did it matter +to him what they did? On the whole he did not like being there any longer, he +did not want to stay there any more--no, no! He shook himself as though with +loathing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he stood a long time on one spot, staring into space. And +gradually a large, an immeasurable expanse appeared before his staring +eyes--cornfields and heather in bloom, heather in which the sun sets, quiet +waters near which a lonely bird is calling, and over all the solemn, beautiful +sound of bells. He must go there. He stretched out his arms longingly, the eyes +that were swollen with weeping flashed.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">If they were to keep him with them, keep hold of him! No, they +could not hold him. He must go there.</p> + +<p class="normal">He crept nearer to the window as though drawn there. It was +high up, too high for a jump, but he would get down nevertheless. He could not +go down the stairs of course, they would hear him--but like this, ah, like this.</p> + +<p class="normal">Kneeling on the window-sill he groped about with his feet to +find the water-pipe that ran down the whole side of the house close to the +window. Ah, he felt it. Then he slid down from the sill, only hanging on to it +by the tips of his fingers, dangled in the air for a few moments, then got the +water-pipe between his knees, let go of the window-sill altogether, grasped hold +of the pipe and slid down it quickly and noiselessly.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked round timidly: nobody had seen him. There was nobody +in the street, and there were only a few people walking in the distance. He bent +his head and crept past the windows on the ground-floor--now he was in the +garden behind the bushes--now over the hedge his trousers slit, that did not +matter--now he looked back at the house with a feeling of wild triumph. He stood +in the waste field, in which no houses had been built as yet, stood there hidden +behind an elderberry-bush, of which he had planted the first shoot years before +as a child. He did not feel the slightest regret. He rushed away into the +sheltering wood like a wild animal that hears shots.</p> + +<p class="normal">He ran and ran, ran even when it was not necessary to run any +more. He did not stop until complete exhaustion forced him to do so. He had run +straight across the wood without following any path; now he no longer knew where +he was. But he was far away, so much was certain. He had not got so far into the +wood on his robber expeditions with his play-fellows, <span class="pagenum">[Pg +184]</span> and, in his walks, had never gone into the parts where there were no +paths whatever and where it was quite lonely. He could rest a little now in +peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">He threw himself on the ground, where the sand showed nothing +but fine grass and some bracken in small hollows. Trees in which there was not +the slightest motion towered above him all around, like slender pillars that +seemed to support the heavens.</p> + +<p class="normal">He lay there for some time on his back, and let his blood, +which was coursing through his veins like mad, cool down. He thought he could +hear his heart throb quite distinctly, although he could not account for it--oh, +it was pounding and stabbing so unpleasantly in his breast; he had never felt it +do like that before. But he had never run like that before, at any rate since +his illness. He had to fight for air, he thought he was going to choke. But at +last he was able to breathe again more comfortably; now he had not to distend +his nostrils and pant for breath any more. He could enjoy the feeling of ease +and comfort that gradually came over him now.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not yet dusk when he set out again, but still the light +began to show that it was October. There was a sweet softness, something +extremely gentle and glorified about the sunshine that fell through the red +branches of the pines, which also softened the wild runaway. He went in a +dream--whither? He did not know, he did not think of it either, he only walked +on and on, in pursuit of a longing that drew him on irresistibly, that fluttered +in front of him and cooed and called like a dove seeking her nest. And the +dove's wings were stronger than the wings of an eagle.</p> + +<p class="normal">There were no people where the longing flew. It was so +peaceful and quiet there. Not even his foot made any noise as it sank into the +moss and short grass. The <span class="pagenum">[Pg 185]</span> pines stood in +the glow of the setting sun like slender lighted candles. No autumn leaves lay +on the ground in which the wind might have rustled; the air swept noiselessly +over the smooth pine-needles and the colourless cones that had dropped down from +the tree-tops.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had never known it was so beautiful there. He looked +round with amazed delight. It had never seemed so beautiful before. But it was +not like this, of course, where the villas were and the roads. His eyes glanced +curiously now to the right, now to the left and then in front of him into the +twilight of the wood. There, where the last gold of the setting sun did not +cling to the cleft bark like red blood and the light did not penetrate, there +was a soft mysterious dusk, in which the mossy dark-green stems gleamed +nevertheless. And there was a perfume there, so moist and cool, so pungent and +fresh, that the boy drew a deep breath as though a weight had been lifted from +his chest and a new strength ran through his veins.</p> + +<p class="normal">The memory of all he had gone through during the day came back +to Wolfgang now in the deep calm. He pressed his hands to his hot forehead--ah, +now he noticed he had not even a cap on. But what did that matter? He was free, +free! He hurried on, shouting with glee, and then he got terrified at the sound +of his own loud voice: hush, be quiet! Let him only not be shut up again, let +him be free, free!</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not feel any more longing now. He was filled with a +great repose, with a boundless happiness. His eyes sparkled--he opened them +wide--he could not stare enough at the world, it was as though he saw it for the +first time to-day. He ran up to the trunks that seemed to be supporting the +heavens, and threw both arms round them; he pressed his face against the <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 186]</span> resinous bark. Was it not soft? Did it not cling to his glowing +cheek like a caressing hand?</p> + +<p class="normal">He threw himself down on the moss and stretched his limbs and +tossed from side to side in high glee, and then jumped up again--he did not like +being there, after all--he must look about, enjoy his liberty.</p> + +<p class="normal">A single red stripe over the wood that was turning blue still +showed where the sun had been, when he became conscious of his actual +whereabouts for the first time. Here the former high-road from Spandau to +Potsdam had been; ruddy brown and yellow chestnuts formed an avenue through the +desolate country. The sand lay a foot deep in the ruts that were seldom used +now. Ah, from here you came to Potsdam or Spandau, according to the road you +took--alas, could you not already hear cocks crowing and a noise as of wheels +turning slowly?</p> + +<p class="normal">Deciding quickly, the boy turned off from the old high-road to +the left, crept through a bent barbed wire fence, that was to protect a clearing +which had lately been replanted, bounded like a stag over the small plants that +were hardly a hand's-breadth high, and looked out for a cover.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not require any, nobody came there. He walked more +slowly between the small trees; he took care not to tread on them, stooped down +and examined them, measured them out by steps as a farmer does his furrows.</p> + +<p class="normal">And all at once it was evening. A mist had crept over the +earth, light and hardly visible at first, then it had risen and increased in +size, had slipped across the piece of clearing on the night wind that was coming +up, and had hung on to each gnarl like the beckoning veils of spectres.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Wolfgang was not afraid; he did not feel any <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 187]</span> terror. What could happen to him there, where the distant +whistle of a train was only heard at intervals, and where the wind carried the +smoke it had torn away from the locomotive like a light cloud that rapidly +vanishes?</p> + +<p class="normal">Just as if you were on the prairie, on the steppes, the boy +thought to himself, where there are no longer any huts and only the camp fires +send their little bit of smoke up as a token. A certain love of adventure was +mingled with the bliss of being free. He had always wished to camp out. Of +course he would not be able to light a fire and cook by it; he had nothing to do +it with. But he did not feel hungry. There was only one thing he needed now, to +sleep long and soundly.</p> + +<p class="normal">He lay down without hesitating. The ground was already cool, +but his clothes were thick and prevented the cold from penetrating. He made a +sort of pillow for his head, and lay with his face turned towards the evening +sky. Pale stars gradually appeared on it, and smiled down at him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had thought he would fall asleep at once, he felt tired +out, but he lay a long time with open eyes. An inexplicable sensation kept him +awake: this was too beautiful, too beautiful, it was like a splendid dream. +Golden eyes protected him, a velvety mantle enveloped him, a mother rocked him +gently.</p> + +<p class="normal">Longing, defiance, pain, fury, everything that hurt had +disappeared. Only happiness remained in this infinite peace.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 188]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Frida Lãmke had now been confirmed. She wore a dress that +almost touched the ground, and when she saw Wolfgang Schlieben for the first +time after a long interval, her greeting was no longer the familiar nod of +childhood. But she stopped when she came up to her former play-fellow.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hallo, Wolfgang," she said, laughing, and at the same time a +little condescendingly--she felt so infinitely superior to him--"well, how are +you getting along?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"All right." He put on a bold air which did not exactly suit +the look in his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">She examined him; what a fine fellow Wolfgang had grown. But +he held himself so badly, he bent forward so. "Hold yourself up, for goodness' +sake," she exhorted, and she straightened her own rush-like figure. "Why do you +make such a round back? And you blink your eyes as if you were short-sighted. +Hm, you should be with my employer--oh my, she would make you sit up." She +chuckled to herself, her whole slender figure shook with a secret inclination to +laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're so happy," he said slowly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, why shouldn't I be? Do you think such an old dragon can +spoil my good humour? Come, that would be stupid. When she scolds I lower my +head, I don't say a word, but I laugh to myself. Ha ha!" Her clear voice sounded +very gay.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 189]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">How pretty she was. The boy's dark eyes were fixed on Frida +Lämke as though he had never seen her before. The sun was shining on her fair +hair, which she no longer wore in a long plait, but in a thick knot at the back +of her head. Her face was so round, so blooming.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You never come to see me now," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How can I?" She shrugged her shoulders and assumed an air of +importance. "What do you think I have to do? Into town with the car before eight +in the morning, and then only two hours for my dinner always in and out and in +the evening I'm hardly ever at home before ten, often still later. Then I'm so +tired, I sleep as sound as a top. But on Sundays mother lets me sleep as long as +I like, and in the afternoon I go out with Artur and Flebbe. We----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where do you go?" he asked hastily. "I could go with you some +time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you!" She laughed at him. "You mayn't, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No." He bowed his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, don't look so glum," she said encouragingly, stroking +his chin with her fore-finger, and disclosing a hole in her shabby kid glove. +"You go to college, you see. Artur is to be apprenticed too, next autumn. Mother +thinks to a hairdresser. And Flebbe is already learning to be a grocer--his +father can afford to do that--who knows? perhaps he may have a shop of his own +in time."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes," said Wolfgang in a monotonous voice, breaking into her +chatter. He stood in the street as though lost in thought, his books pressed +under his arm. Oh, how far, far this girl, all three of them, had gone from him +all at once. Those three, with whom he had once played every day, whose captain +he had always been, were already so big, and he, he was still a silly +school-boy.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 190]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, hang it all!" He hurled his pile of books away from him +with a violent gesture, so that the strap that held them together came undone. +All the books and exercise-books flew apart, and lay spread out in the dust of +the street.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh dear, Wölfchen!" Frida stooped down, quite terrified, and +gathered them all up.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not help her to collect them. He stared in front of him +with an angry look.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There--now you've got them again," said the girl, who had +grown quite red with stooping so busily. She blew off the dust and pressed them +under his arm again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't want them." He let them fall again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm, you're a nice fellow. What can you be thinking of?--those +expensive books." She felt really quite angry with him. "Don't you know that +they cost money?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pooh!" He made a gesture as if to say, what did that matter? +"Then some new ones will be bought."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Even if your father has sufficient money," she said, firing +up, "it's still not right of you to treat these good books like that."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not say a word to that, but took them up and fastened +the strap round them again. They stood together, both feeling embarrassed. She +glanced sideways at him: how he had changed. And he felt vexed that he had got +into a passion: what would she think of him now?</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall have to go now," she said all at once, "or I shan't +even get my dinner eaten ugh, how hungry I am!" She put her hand on her stomach. +"How good it'll taste! Mother has potatoes in their jackets and herrings +to-day."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall go too." Suiting his step to hers he trotted beside +her as she tripped hastily along.</p> + +<p class="normal">She got quite red: what would her mother say if she <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 191]</span> brought Wolfgang with her? No, that would really not do, this +was just the day when their room had not been tidied. And she had told a fib +too: there were no herrings, only onion sauce with the potatoes in their +jackets.</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt ashamed that Wolfgang should find it out.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, you go home," she said, intrenching herself behind a +pout. "As you've not been to see us for so long, you needn't come to-day either. +I'm angry with you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Angry with me--me? What have I done? I wasn't allowed to come +to you, I mightn't--that's not my fault, surely. Frida!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She commenced to run, her face quite scarlet; he ran beside +her. "Frida! Frida, surely you can't be angry with <i>me</i>? Oh, Frida, don't +be angry. Frida, let me go with you. At last I've met you, and then you behave +like this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was sorrow in his voice. She felt it, but she was angry +all the same: why should he cling to her like that? Flebbe would not like it at +all. And so she said in a pert voice: "We don't suit each other and never shall. +You go with your young ladies. You belong to them."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Say that once more--dare to do it!" He shouted in a rough +voice, and raised his hand as though he would strike her. "Affected creatures, +what are they to me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was right--she had to confess it in her heart--he had never +taken any notice of the young girls who lived in the villas around him. She knew +very well that he preferred them to them all, and her vanity felt flattered; she +said soothingly, but at the same time evasively: "No, Wölfchen, you can't go +with me any more, it's not proper any more." And she held out her hand: +"Good-bye, Wolfgang."</p> + +<p class="normal">They were among the bushes in a small public garden in which +there were benches, the villas lying at a good <span class="pagenum">[Pg 192]</span> +distance from it, quite hidden behind their front gardens. There was nobody in +sight in the quiet radiance of the noonday sun. But even if somebody had come, +it would not have made any difference; he seized hold of her with both hands in +a kind of rage. "I am going with you--I shall not let you go."</p> + +<p class="normal">She resisted forcibly: what was the stupid boy thinking of? +"Let me go," she said, spitting at him like a little cat, "will you let me go at +once? You hurt me. Just you wait, I'll tell Flebbe about it, he'll be after you. +Leave me in peace."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not let her go. He held her clasped in his arms without +saying a word, his books were again lying in the dust.</p> + +<p class="normal">Did he want to kiss or strike her? She did not know; but she +was afraid of him and defended herself as best she could. "You runaway!" she +hissed, "hm, you're a nice one. Runs away from home, hides himself in the wood. +But they got you all the same--and it served you right."</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once he let her go; she stood in front of him mocking +him. She could easily have run away now, but she preferred to stand there and +scold him: "You runaway!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He got very red and hung his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How could you think of doing such a thing?" she continued +with a certain cruelty. "So silly. Everybody laughed at you. We positively could +not believe it at first. Well I never, said I, the boy runs away without money, +without a cap, without a piece of bread in his pocket. You wanted to go to +America like that, I suppose, eh?" She eyed him from top to toe and then threw +her head back and laughed loudly: "To think of doing such a thing."</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not raise his head, only murmured half to himself: "You +shouldn't laugh at it, no, you shouldn't."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 193]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, what next? Cry, perhaps? What does it matter to me? +Your mother cried enough about it, and your father ran about as if he were +crazy. All the rangers in the district were on their legs. Tell me, didn't you +get a good thrashing when they dragged you home by the collar?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No." He suddenly raised his head and looked straight into the +eyes that were sparkling a little maliciously.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something in his glance--a mute reproach--that +compelled her to lower her lids.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They didn't beat me--I wouldn't have stood it either--no, +they didn't beat me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Shut you up?" she asked curiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not answer; what was he to say? No, they had not shut +him up, he might go about as he liked in the house and garden, in the street, to +school--and still, still he was not free.</p> + +<p class="normal">Tears suddenly started to his eyes. "You--you +shouldn't--shouldn't taunt me--Frida," he cried, stammering and faltering. "I'm +so--so----"</p> + +<p class="normal">He wanted to say "unhappy"; but the word seemed to mean too +little and in another way too much. And he felt ashamed of saying it aloud. So +he stood silent, colouring up to the eyes. And only his tears, which he could +not restrain any longer, rolled down his cheeks and fell into the dust of the +street.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were tears of sorrow and of rage. It was already more +than six months ago--oh, even longer--but it still enraged him as though it had +happened the day before. He had never forgotten for a moment that they had +caught him so easily. They had found him so soon, at daybreak, ere the sun had +risen on a new day. And they had carried him home in triumph. What he had looked +upon as a great deed, an heroic <span class="pagenum">[Pg 194]</span> +deed, was a stupid boy's trick to them. His mother had certainly cried a good +deal, but his father had only pulled his ear: "Once, but not more, my son. +Remember that."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was crying quietly but bitterly. Frida stood in front +of him, watching him cry, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears as well--she +had always been his good friend. Now she cried with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't cry, Wölfchen," she sobbed. "It isn't so bad. People +don't remember anything more about it--such things are forgotten. You certainly +need not feel ashamed of it--why should you? There's no harm in your having +frightened your people a little for once in a way. Simply say to them: 'Then +I'll run away again,' if they won't let you come to us. Come next Sunday +afternoon. Then I won't go with Artur and Flebbe--no, I'll wait for you."</p> + +<p class="normal">She wiped her own tears away with the one hand and his with +the other.</p> + +<p class="normal">They stood thus in the bright sunshine amidst the flowering +bushes. The lilac spread its fragrance around; a red may and a laburnum strewed +their beautifully coloured petals over them, shaken by the soft wind of May. The +dark and the light head were close to each other.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Frida," he said, seizing hold of her hand firmly, as though +clinging to it, "Frida, are <i>you</i> still fond of me, at any rate?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course." She nodded, and her clear merry laugh was heard +once more, although there were still traces of tears on her face. "That would be +a nice sort of friendship, if it disappeared so quickly. There!" She pursed up +her mouth and gave him a kiss.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked very embarrassed; she had never given him a kiss +before.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There!" She gave him another one. "And now be happy again, my +boy. It's such beautiful weather."</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 195]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"You're late to-day," said his mother, when Wolfgang came home +from school at two instead of at one o'clock. "You've not been kept, I hope?"</p> + +<p class="normal">A feeling of indignation rose in him: how she supervised him. +The good temper in which his friend Frida had put him had disappeared; the +chains galled him again. But he still thought a good deal of Frida. When he was +doing his lessons in the afternoon, her head with its thick knot of hair would +constantly appear behind his desk, and bend over his book and interrupt him; but +it was a pleasant interruption. What a pity that Frida had so little time now. +How nice it had been when they were children. He had always been most fond of +her; he had been able to play better with her than with the two boys, she had +always understood him and stuck to him--alas!</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt as though he must envy, from the bottom of his heart, +the boy who had been the captain when they played at robbers in those days and +roasted potatoes in the ashes, nay, even the boy who had once been so ill that +they had to wheel him in a bath-chair the first time he went out into the open +air. The boy who sat at the desk now, staring absently into space over the top +of his exercise-book, was no longer the same. He was no longer a child. All at +once it seemed to Wolfgang as though a golden time had gone for ever and lay far +behind him, as though there were no pleasures in store for him. Had not the +clergyman who was preparing him for confirmation also said: "You are no longer +children"? And had he not gone on to say: "You will soon have your share of +life's gravity"? Alas, he already had it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang sat with knit brows, the chewed end of his penholder +between his teeth, disinclined to work. He was brooding. All manner of thoughts +occurred to him <span class="pagenum">[Pg 196]</span> that he had never had +before; all at once words came into his mind that he had never thought of +seriously before. Why did the boys in his form constantly ask him such strange +questions? They asked about his parents--well, was there anything peculiar about +them?--and then they exchanged glances among themselves and looked at him so +curiously. What was so funny about him? Lehmann was the most curious--and so +cheeky. Quite lately he had blinked at him sideways so slyly, and puffed up his +cheeks as though they must burst with laughter when he made the specially witty +remark: "I'll be hanged if I can see any likeness between you and your +governor!" Was he really not like his father or his mother? Not like either of +them?</p> + +<p class="normal">When Wolfgang undressed that evening, he stood a long time in +front of the looking-glass that hung over his washstand, with a light in his +hand, holding it first to the right, then to the left, then higher, then lower. +A bright light fell on his face. The glass was good, and reflected every feature +faithfully on its clear surface--but there was no resemblance whatever between +his big nose and his mother's fine one. His father's nose was also quite +different. And neither of his parents had such a broad forehead with hair +growing far down on it, and such brows that almost met. His father had certainly +dark eyes, but they did not resemble those he saw in the glass, that were so +black that even the light from the candle, which he held quite close, could not +make them any lighter.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last the boy turned away with a look full of doubt. And +still there was something that resembled a slight feeling of relief in the sigh +he now uttered. If he were so little like them externally, need he wonder then +that his thoughts and feelings were often so quite, quite different from theirs?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 197]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was strange how the boys at school were an exact copy of +their parents; and how the big boys were still tied to their mothers' +apron-strings. There was Kullrich, for example; he had been away for a fortnight +because his mother had died, and when he came to school again for the first +time--with a black band round his coat-sleeve--the whole form went almost crazy. +They treated him as though he were a raw egg, and spoke quite low, and nobody +made a joke. And when the passage, +<i> When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up</i>, +happened to occur in the Bible-lessons, in which Kullrich also took part, they +all looked at him as though at the word of command, and Kullrich laid his head +down on his Bible, and did not raise it again during the whole lesson. +Afterwards the master went up to him and spoke a long time to him, and laid his +hand on his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was already a long time ago, but Kullrich was still not +happy. When they all walked in the playground during the interval, eating their +bread and butter, he stood at some distance and did not eat. Was it really so +hard to lose one's mother?</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a wonderful moon shining over the silent pines that +night; the boy lay half out of the window for a long, long time. His eyes were +burning: his thoughts buzzed in his head like a swarm of gnats that whirl round +and round and up and down in the air like a cloud. Where did they come from all +at once?</p> + +<p class="normal">He exposed his hot forehead, his chest, from which his +nightshirt had slipped, to the cool night air in May--ah, that did him good. +That was the best, the only thing that soothed, that gave peace. Oh, how +delightful the air was, so pure, so fresh.</p> + +<p class="normal">Where could Cilia be now? he wondered. He had never heard +anything more about her, She was where <span class="pagenum">[Pg 198]</span> he +would like to have been--oh, how he would have liked it. Something that +resembled the sound of bells came floating along, and he stretched out his arms +and bent further and further out of the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had such a vivid dream about Cilia that night that +when he awoke he thought she was standing at his bedside, that she had not left +him yet. But after he had rubbed his eyes, he saw that the spot on which she had +just been standing smiling so pleasantly was empty.</p> + +<p class="normal">After school was over he had to go to the Bible-lesson; he was +to be confirmed the following Easter. True, he was still young, but Paul +Schlieben had said to his wife: "He is so developed physically. We can't have +him confirmed when he is outwardly, at any rate, a grown-up man. Besides, his +age is just right. It is much better for him if he does not begin to reflect +first."</p> + +<p class="normal">Did he not reflect already? It often seemed to Käte as if the +boy evaded her questions, when she asked him about the Bible-lesson. Did his +teacher not understand how to make an impression on him? Dr. Baumann was looked +upon as an excellent theologian, everybody rushed to hear his sermons; to be +allowed to join his confirmation classes, that were always so crowded, was a +special favour; all his pupils raved about him, people who had been confirmed by +him ten, fifteen years before, still spoke of it as an event in their lives.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte made a point of going to hear this popular clergyman's +sermons very often. Formerly she had only gone to church at Christmas and on +Good Friday, now she went almost every Sunday to please her boy, for he had to +go now. They left the house together every Sunday, drove to church together, sat +next to each other; but whilst she thought: "How clever, how thought-out, what +fervour, surely he must carry a youthful mind away with him"? Wolfgang thought: <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 199]</span> "If only it were over!" He felt bored. And his soul had never +soared there as when the little bell rang when the monstrance had been raised, +when he had smelt the odour of incense before dim altars.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something in him that drove him to the church he had +once visited with Cilia. When he went to the Bible-class he had to pass close by +it; but even if the road had been longer, he would still have made it possible +to go there. Only to stand a few minutes, a few seconds in a corner, only to +draw his breath once or twice in that sweet, mysterious, soothing air laden with +incense. He always found the church door open; and then when he stepped out +again into the noise of Berlin, he went through the streets with their hurry and +their rush like one come from another world. After that he did not take any +notice of what he was told about the doctrines and the history of the +Church--what were Martin Luther, Calvin and other reformers to him? His soul had +been caught, his thoughts submerged in a feeling of gloomy faith.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus the summer and winter passed. When the days grew longer, +and the mild warmth of the sun promised to dry up all the moisture winter had +left behind ere long, Paul Schlieben had his villa cleaned and painted. It was +to put on a festive garment for their son's great day, too.</p> + +<p class="normal">The white house looked extremely pretty with its red roofs and +green shutters, as it peeped out from behind the pines; there would almost have +been something rustic about it, had it not been for the large plate-glass +windows and the conservatory, with its palms and flowering azaleas, that had +lately been built on. Friedrich was sowing fresh grass in the garden, and an +assistant was tidying up the flower-beds; they were digging and hoeing +everywhere. The sparrows were <span class="pagenum">[Pg 200]</span> +chirping noisily, bold and happy; but strips of paper tied to long pieces of +string and stretched across the lawns that had just been sown fluttered in the +purifying wind and frightened the impudent birds away from the welcome food. All +the gardens were waking up. The stems of the roses had not yet been released +from their coverings, in which they looked like a chrysalis made of straw, but +the young shoots had appeared on the fruit-trees, and the spurge-laurel made a +fine show with its peach-coloured blossoms. Perambulators painted white and +sky-blue were being driven up and down the street, the baby inside was already +peeping out from behind the curtains, and little feet tripped along by the side. +Nurses and children came out of all the doors, the boys with hoops, the girls +with their balls in a knitted net. Giggling young girls went off to tennis, and +big boys from the third form made love to them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Brightness and gaiety everywhere. There was a glad excited +rustling in the tops of the pines, and the sap rose and fell in the willows +along the shores of the lake. A flight of starlings passed over the Grunewald +colony, and each bird looked down and chose in which box on the tall pine stems +it would prefer to nest.</p> + +<p class="normal">The new suit of clothes--black trousers and coat--Wolfgang was +to wear at his confirmation lay spread out on his bed upstairs. Now he was to +try it on.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was filled with a strange emotion, and her pulse +quickened as she helped him to put on his new suit. So far he had always been +dressed like a boy, in knickers and a sailor blouse, now he was to be dressed +like a man all at once. The festive black suit of fine cloth did not suit him; +for the first time one noticed that he was thick-set. He stood there stiffly, he +felt cramped in the trousers, the coat was uncomfortable, too: he looked +miserable.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Look at yourself, just look at yourself," said Käte, pushing +him in front of the glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked into it. But he did not see the clothes, he only saw +his mother's face as she looked into the glass at the same time as he, and he +saw they had not a single feature in common.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We're not a bit alike," he murmured.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm? What did you say?" She had not understood him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you like the suit?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's awful!" And then he stared at himself absently. What had +they been saying again that morning? They had been jeering at him, Lehmann and +von Kesselborn, who were to be confirmed with him. Was it because their fathers +were not so rich as his? Kesselborn's father was a retired officer, who now +filled the post of registrar, but Kesselborn was terribly proud of his "von"; +and Lehmann was his bosom friend. However, he had told them that he had already +had a silver watch since he was eight years old, and that he was to have a real +gold one for his confirmation, which he would then wear every day--that had +vexed them awfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was before the lesson had commenced--they were all three +waiting--and Kesselborn had suddenly said: "Schlieben gives himself airs," and +had then turned to him and said: "You needn't be so stuck-up." And then Lehmann +had added, also quite loudly so that everybody must have heard it: "Don't put on +so much side, we know all about it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you know?" He had wanted to jump on Lehmann like a +tiger, but the clergyman had just then come in and they began prayers. And when +the lesson, of which he had hardly heard anything--he heard the other <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 202]</span> words all the time--was over, he had wanted to tackle Kesselborn +and Lehmann, but they had been sitting near the door, and had already gone +before he could get out of his bench. He did not see them again. But he noticed +glances in which there was a certain curiosity and spitefulness--or did he only +imagine it? He was not quite sure about it, and he had not thought any more +about it either. But now when he saw his mother's face so close to his in the +glass, he suddenly remembered it all again. And it all came back to him, plumped +like a stone into his thoughts.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not at all like you," he said once more. And then he +watched her face: "Not like father either."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh yes," she said hastily, "you are very much like your +father."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not the slightest bit."</p> + +<p class="normal">Her face had flamed, and then he noticed that she suddenly +turned pale. Then she laughed, but there was something forced in her laugh. +"There are many children who hardly resemble their parents at all--that has +nothing to do with the matter."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, but----" All at once he stopped and frowned, as he always +did when he exerted himself to think. And he shot such sharp, such suspicious, +such scrutinising glances at the glass under his knit brows that Käte +involuntarily moved aside, so that her head could not be seen near his in the +glass any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was seized with a sudden fear: what did he mean? Had he +spoken like that intentionally, or had he said it quite unconsciously? What had +they said to him? What did he know?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her hands that had found something to do to his clothes--she +was on her knees pulling down his trousers--were full of nervous haste, and were +pulling here, pulling there, and trembling.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 203]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He was not looking into the glass now, he was gazing at the +kneeling woman with an indefinable look. As a rule, his face had not much +expression and was neither handsome nor ugly, neither fine nor insignificant--it +was still a smooth, immature boy's face without a line on it--but now there was +something in it, something doubting, restless, which made it appear older, which +drew furrows on his forehead and lines round his mouth. Thoughts seemed to be +whirling round behind that lowered brow; the broad nostrils quivered slightly, +the trembling lips were pressed tightly together.</p> + +<p class="normal">A deep silence reigned in the room. The mother did not utter a +word, nor did the son. The birds were twittering outside, even the faintest +chirp could be heard as well as the soft rustling of the spring wind in the tops +of the pines.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte rose slowly from her knees. She found difficulty in +getting up, all her limbs felt as if they were paralysed. She stretched out her +hand gropingly, caught hold of the nearest piece of furniture and helped herself +up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You can take it off again now," she said in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was already doing so, visibly glad at being able to throw +off the clothes he was so unused to.</p> + +<p class="normal">She would have liked so much to say something to him, +something quite unimportant--only to speak, speak--but she felt so strangely +timid. It was as though he might say to her: "What have I to do with you, +woman?" And her fear kept her silent.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had taken off his new suit now, and was standing before her +showing his broad chest, which the unbuttoned shirt had left exposed, his strong +legs, from which the stockings had slipped down, and all his big-boned, only +half-clothed robustness. She averted her glance--what a big fellow he was +already!--but then she looked at <span class="pagenum">[Pg 204]</span> him again +almost immediately: why should a mother feel shy at looking at her child? A +mother?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her eyes flickered. As she walked to the door she said, +without turning her head to him again: "I'm going down now. You'll be able to +finish without me, no doubt."</p> + +<p class="normal">He mumbled something she could not understand. And then he +stood a long time, half dressed as he was, and stared into the glass, as though +the pupils of his eyes could not move.</p> + +<p class="normal">The day of his confirmation drew near; it was to take place on +Palm Sunday. Dr. Baumann had laid the importance of the step they were about to +take very clearly before the boys' eyes. Now a certain feeling of solemnity took +the place of Wolfgang's former indifference. He was more attentive during the +last lessons; the empty bare room with the few pictures on the plain walls did +not seem so bare to him any longer. Was it only because he had grown accustomed +to it? A softer light fell through the dreary windows and glided over the +monotonous rows of benches, beautifying them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even Lehmann and Kesselborn were not quite so unsympathetic +lately. All his thoughts grew gentler, more forgiving. The boy's hard heart +became soft. When the clergyman spoke of the Commandments and specially +emphasised the one, "Honour thy father and thy mother," it seemed to Wolfgang +there was much for which he must ask forgiveness; especially his mother's +forgiveness.</p> + +<p class="normal">But then when he came home and wanted to say something loving +to her--something quite unprepared, quite spontaneous--he could not do it, for +she had not perceived his intention.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte often went to the station to meet him--oh, how tired the +poor boy must be when he came home. It was really too great a rush for him to +have to go to town <span class="pagenum">[Pg 205]</span> for his Bible-lessons +so often, and there was always twice as much work at school before the end of +the term. She would have liked to have caressed him, to have fondled him as she +formerly did little Wölfchen. But when she saw him come sauntering along, never +looking out for her, never imagining that she was there waiting for him, she +would turn quickly down the first street or remain standing quietly behind a +tree and let him pass by. He did not notice her at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">The popular clergyman had to prepare a great many boys for +confirmation, too many; he could not interest himself in each individual one of +them; nevertheless he thought he could assure Wolfgang's mother, who came to see +him full of a certain anxiety in order to ask him how her son was getting on, +that he was satisfied with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I know, I know, Frau Schlieben. Your husband considered it +his duty to explain it to me--I have also seen the boy's Catholic certificate of +baptism. But I think I can assure you with a clear conscience that the lad is a +sincere, evangelical Christian. What, you still have some doubts about it?" Her +doubtful mien, the questioning anxiety in her eyes astonished him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She nodded: yes, she had a doubt. Odd that she should have got +it quite lately. But a stranger, anybody else would not understand it, not even +this man with the clever eyes and the gentle smile. And she could hardly have +expressed her doubt in words. And she would have had to tell her tale quite from +the beginning, from the time when she took the child away from its mother, took +it into her own hands, the whole child, body and soul.</p> + +<p class="normal">So she only said: "So you believe--you really believe--oh, how +happy I am, Dr. Baumann, that you believe we have done right." She looked at him +expectantly--oh, how she yearned for him to confirm it and he bowed his head:</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"So far as our knowledge and understanding go--yes."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang did not sleep the night before Palm Sunday. He had +been told at the last lesson that day that he was to prepare his thoughts. And +he felt, too, that the next day was an important day, a fresh chapter in his +life. He did his best to think of everything a boy preparing for his +confirmation ought to think of. He was very tired and could not help yawning, +but he forced his eyes open every time. However, he could not help his thoughts +wandering again and again; his head was no longer clear.</p> + +<p class="normal">What text would he get next day in remembrance of his +confirmation? he wondered. They had often talked about it at school, each one +had his favourite text which he hoped to get. And would he get the gold watch +early in the morning before going to church? Of course. Oh, how angry Kesselborn +and Lehmann would be then--those wretches! He would hold it up before their +eyes: there, look! They should be green with envy--why should they always be +whispering about him, meddling with things that did not concern them at all? +Pooh, they could not make him trouble about it all the same, not even make him +angry.</p> + +<p class="normal">And still all at once he saw his own face so plainly before +his mind's eye and his mother's near it, as he had seen them in the glass. There +was not a single feature alike--no, not one.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was really odd that mother and son resembled each other so +little. Now he was wide awake, and commenced to ponder, his brows knit, his +hands clenched. What did they really mean by their offensive remarks? If only he +knew it. He would be quite satisfied then, quite easy. But he could not think of +anything else as things were now, with everything so obscure. All his thoughts +turned round and round the same point. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 207]</span> It +was a horrible feeling that tormented him now, a great uncertainty in which he +groped about in the dark. Light, light, he must have light. Ah, he would see +that he got some.</p> + +<p class="normal">He tossed about restlessly, quite tortured by his thoughts, +and considered and pondered how he was to find it out, where he was to find it +out. Who would tell him for certain whether he was his parents' child or not? +Why should he not be their child? Yes, he was their child--no, he was not. But +why not? If he was not their real child, would he be very sorry? No, no!--but +still, it terrified him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The perspiration stood out on the excited boy's body, and +still he felt icy-cold. He drew the cover up and shook as though with fever. His +heart behaved strangely too, it fluttered in his breast as though with restless +wings. Oh, if only he could sleep and forget everything. Then there would be no +thought of it next day, and everything would be as it had always been.</p> + +<p class="normal">He pressed his eyes together tightly, but the sleep he had +driven away did not come again. He heard the clocks strike, the old clock +resounded hi the dining-room downstairs, and the bronze one called from his +mother's room with its silvery voice. The silence of the night exaggerated every +sound; he had never heard the clocks strike so loudly before.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was the morning never coming? Was it not light yet? He longed +for the day to come, and still he dreaded it. All at once he was seized with an +inexplicable terror--why, what was it he feared so much?</p> + +<p class="normal">If only he were already at church--no, if only it were all +over. He was filled with reluctance, a sudden disinclination. The same thought +continued to rush madly through his brain, and his heart rushed with it; it was +impossible to collect his thoughts. He sighed as he <span class="pagenum">[Pg +208]</span> +tossed and turned on his bed; he felt so extremely lonely, terrified, nay, +persecuted.</p> + +<p class="normal"><i> +If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, +Thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost +parts of the sea</i>--alas, he could not escape from that thought, it was +everywhere and always, always there.</p> + +<p class="normal">As the morning sun stole through the shutters that were still +closed on Palm Sunday, forcing its way into the room in delicate, golden rays, +Käte came into her son's room. She was pale, for she had been struggling with +herself the whole night: should she tell him something, now that he was to enter +upon this new chapter of his life or should she tell him nothing? Something +within her whispered: "The day has come, tell him it, you owe it to him"--but +when the morning sun appeared she bade the voice of the night be silent. Why +tell him it? What did it matter to him? What he did not know could not grieve +him; but if he knew it, then--perhaps he would then--oh, God, she must keep +silent, she could not lose him!</p> + +<p class="normal">But she longed to let him feel her love. When she came in with +soft steps she was amazed, for he was standing already quite dressed in the new +black coat and trousers at the window, gazing fixedly at the field in which they +were beginning to build a villa now. The ground floor was already finished, +there was a high scaffolding round it; it was going to be an enormous building.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good morning, my dear son," she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not hear her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he turned round quickly and looked at her, terrified and +as though he did not know her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you're already dressed." Her voice seemed to express +disappointment; she would have been so pleased <span class="pagenum">[Pg 209]</span> +to have helped him just on that day. There was a strange feeling in her heart; +she had never thought the day would have affected her so. Was it not a day like +other days, a festival, of course, but one of many? And now it seemed as though +the day were unique, and as though there would never be another like it again.</p> + +<p class="normal">She went up to Wolfgang, laid her arms round his neck and +looked deep into his eyes: "My child!" And then she smiled at him. "I wish you +joy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why?" He looked past her with such a strange expression that +all the heartfelt things she had wanted to say to him remained unsaid. He was +still quite a child although he was almost taller than she, much too much of a +child, he did not understand the importance of the day as yet. So all she did +was to improve on his appearance a little, to take away a thread from his +clothes here, to blow away some dust there and pull his tie straight. And then +he had to bend his head; she made a parting again in his stiff obstinate hair, +that never would remain straight. And then she could not restrain herself, but +took his round face between both her hands and pressed a quick kiss on his +forehead.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not on my mouth?" he thought to himself. "A mother would +have kissed her child on his mouth."</p> + +<p class="normal">They went down to breakfast. There were flowers on the table; +his father, who was wearing a frock coat, was already seated, and the gold watch +lay on Wolfgang's plate. A splendid watch. He examined it critically; yes, he +liked it. "In remembrance of April 1, 1901," was engraved inside the gold case. +Neither Kesselborn nor Lehmann would get such a watch, none of the boys who were +to be confirmed would get anything like such a beauty. It was awfully heavy--he +really ought to have a gold chain now.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang's parents watched him as he stood there <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 210]</span> with the watch in his hand, looking at it yes, he was pleased. +And that pleased them, especially Käte. She had wanted to have a text engraved +inside it as well, but Paul did not wish it: don't let them get sentimental +about it. But it was all right as it was, the boy was pleased with the gift, and +so they had gained their object.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It strikes as well," she said to him eagerly. "You can know +what time it is in the dark. Look. If you press here--do you see?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes. Give it to me--you've to press here." He knew all about +it.</p> + +<p class="normal">They had lost count of the time; they had to be going. +Wolfgang walked to the station between his parents. When they passed the house +where Lämke was hall-porter, Frida was standing at the door. She must have got +up earlier than usual this Sunday; she was already in her finery, looked very +nice and smiled and nodded. Then Frau Lämke stuck her head out of the low +cellar-window, and followed the boy with her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There he goes," she philosophised. "Who knows what life has +in store for him?" She felt quite moved.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was splendid weather, a real spring day. The tasteful +villas looked so festive and bright; all the bushes were shooting, and the +crocuses, tulips and primroses were in bloom. Even Berlin with its large grey +houses and its noise and traffic showed a Sunday face. It was so much quieter in +the streets; true, the electric cars were rushing along and there were cabs and +carriages, but there were no waggons about, no brewers' and butchers' carts. +Everything was so much quieter, as though subdued, softened. The streets seemed +broader than usual because they were emptier, and the faces of the people who +walked there looked different from what they generally did.</p> + +<p class="normal">The candidates for confirmation were streaming to the <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 211]</span> +church; there was a large number of boys and girls. Most of the girls drove, for +they all belonged to good families.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah, all those boys and girls. Käte could hardly suppress a +slight feeling of longing, almost of envy: oh, to be as young as they were. But +then every selfish thought was swallowed up in the one feeling: the boy, the boy +was stepping out of childhood's land now. God be with him!</p> + +<p class="normal">Feelings she had not known for a long time, childlike, devout, +quite artless feelings crowded in upon her; everything the years and her worldly +life had brought with them fell from her. To-day she was young again, as young +as those kneeling at the altar, full of confidence, full of hope.</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Baumann spoke grave words full of advice to the boys and +girls; many of the young children sobbed, and their mothers, too. A shudder +passed through the crowded church, the young dark and fair heads bent low. +Käte's eyes sought Wolfgang; his head was the darkest of all. But he did not +keep it bent, his eyes wandered restlessly all over the church until they came +to a certain window; there they remained fixed. What was he looking for there? +Of what was he thinking? She imagined she could see that his thoughts were far +away, and that made her uneasy. Moving nearer to her husband she whispered: "Do +you see him?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He nodded and whispered: "Certainly. He's bigger than all the +others." There was something of a father's pride in the man's whisper. Yes, +to-day it came home to him: even if they had had many a sorrow they would not +have had under other circumstances, many a discomfort and unpleasantness, still +they had had many a joy they would otherwise have missed. In spite of everything +the boy might in time be all right. How he <span class="pagenum">[Pg 212]</span> +was growing. There was an expression about his mouth that was almost manly. It +had never struck his father before--was it the black clothes that made the boy +look so grave?</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang's thoughts went along paths of their own; not along +those prescribed there. He had many sensations, but he could not keep hold of +any; he was lost in thought. He saw a bit of the sky through a square in the +window-pane, and the flitting figures of his father, mother, Frida, his masters +and school-fellows appeared to him in it. But they all glided past, no vision +remained. All at once he felt quite alone among all that crowd of people.</p> + +<p class="normal">When his turn came he stepped mechanically up to the altar +with Kullrich beside him; Lehmann and Kesselborn were in front of him. How he +hated those two again all at once. He would have liked to throw his watch, his +gold watch at their feet: there, take it! But take back what you've said, take +it back! Ugh, what a terrible night that had been--horrible. He felt it still in +all his limbs; his feet were heavy, and as he knelt down on the cushion on the +step leading up to the altar his knees were stiff. Kullrich was crying the whole +time. Ah, he was no doubt thinking of his mother, who was not with him any +longer. Poor fellow! And Wolfgang felt suddenly that something moist and hot +forced its way into his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">The organ above them was being played very softly, and the +clergyman repeated the texts he had chosen for the candidates in a low voice to +the accompaniment of its gentle tones:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Revelation, 21st chapter, 4th verse. <i>And God shall wipe +away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither +sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things +are passed away.</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah, that was for Kullrich. He raised his face, that <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 213]</span> was wet with tears and so red and hot, to receive the comforting +words. But now, now--Wolfgang stopped breathing--now <i>his</i> text was coming. +What kind of a text would he get, what would he say to <i>him</i>? +</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hebrews, 13th chapter, 14th verse. <i>For here have we no +continuing city, but we seek one to come.</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">That was to be for him--that? What was the meaning of it? A +terrible disappointment came over Wolfgang, for--had he not waited for the text +as for a revelation? The text was to be a judgment of God. It was to tell him +what was true--or what was not true. And now?</p> + +<p class="normal"><i> +Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come.</i> That did not tell him +anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">He got up from the steps mechanically, deceived in all his +hopes. He did not see that his mother's eyes sent him a covert greeting, that +his father was surreptitiously nodding to him with a friendly expression on his +face; he felt quite disillusioned, quite bewildered by this disappointment.</p> + +<p class="normal">If only it had been over now. How tiring it was to sit quiet +for so long. Wolfgang was pale and yawned covertly; the long night during which +he had not slept made itself felt, he could hardly keep himself from falling +asleep. At last, at last the "Amen" was said, at last, at last the final hymn +pealed from the organ.</p> + +<p class="normal">The enormous crowd poured out of the church like a +never-ending flood. Each child joined its parents and passed through the church +porch between its father and mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang walked like that, too, as he had done before. He saw +Kullrich in front of him--with his father only; both of them still wore the +broad mourning-band. Then he left his father and mother and hurried after +Kullrich. He had never been on specially friendly terms with him, but he took +hold of his hand now and pressed and shook <span class="pagenum">[Pg 214]</span> +it in silence, without a word, and then went back again quickly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her boy's impulsive sympathy touched Käte greatly; altogether +she was very much moved that day. When Wolfgang walked beside her again, she +looked at him sideways the whole time with deep emotion: oh, he was so good, so +good. And her heart sent up burning hopes and desires to heaven.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sky was bright, so blue, there was not a cloud on it.</p> + +<p class="normal">They took a carriage so as to drive home, as both parents felt +they could not be crowded together in the train with so many indifferent, +chattering people; they wanted to be alone with their son. Wolfgang was silent. +He sat opposite his mother and allowed his hand to remain in hers, which she +kept on her lap, but his fingers did not return her tender, warm pressure. He +sat as quiet as though his thoughts were not there at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">They drove past the house again in which Lämke was porter; +Frida sprang to the window on hearing the noise the carriage made on the hard, +sun-baked road, and smiled and nodded once more. But there was nothing to be +seen of Frau Lämke now, and Wolfgang missed her. Well, that afternoon as soon as +he could get free he would go to the Lämkes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Some guests were already waiting for them at the villa. They +did not wish to invite a lot of outsiders in honour of the confirmation, but +still the good old doctor, his wife, and the two partners had to be asked--all +elderly people. Wolfgang sat between them without saying much more than "yes" +and "no," when questions were put to him. But he ate and drank a good deal; the +food was always good, but still you did not get caviar and plovers' eggs every +day. His face grew redder and redder, and then his head began to swim. At last +his health was drunk in champagne, and Braumüller, <span class="pagenum">[Pg +215]</span> the oldest partner, a very jovial man, had amused himself by filling +the boy's glass again and again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, Wolfgang, that will be grand when you come to the +office. Your health, my boy."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was almost five o'clock when they got up from table. The +ladies sat down in the drawing-room to have a cup of coffee, the gentlemen went +to the smoking-room. Wolfgang stole away, he felt such a longing for the Lämkes. +First of all he wanted to show them the gold watch, and then he wanted to ask +what text Frida had got at her confirmation, and then, then--what would Frau +Lämke say to him?</p> + +<p class="normal"><i> +Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come</i>; that was really a +stupid text. And still he could not get it out of his head. He thought of it the +whole time whilst sauntering slowly along through the soft silvery air of +spring, that is so full of presages. No, the text was not so stupid, after all. +He knit his brows thoughtfully, looked up at the motionless tops of the pines +and then around him--"Here have we no continuing city"--could not that also +mean, here is not your home? But where then--where?</p> + +<p class="normal">A strange gleam came into his dark eyes, a look as if seeking +for something. And then his face, which the wine had flushed, grew pale. If it +were true what the two had said? Oh, and so many other things occurred to him +all at once: there had been that Lisbeth, that horrid woman who had been with +them before Cilia came--what was all that Lisbeth had always been babbling about +when she was in a bad humour? "You've no right here"--"you're here on +sufferance"--and so on, only he could not remember it all now. What a pity! At +that time he had been too young and too innocent, but now--now?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hang that woman!" He clenched his hand. But <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 216]</span> oh, if he only had her there now. He would not call her names, +oh no, he would get it out of her quite gently and coaxingly, for he must, he +must know it now.</p> + +<p class="normal">A violent longing, a burning curiosity had suddenly been +roused in him, and would not be repressed any longer. There must be some truth +in it, or how could they have taunted him like that? And he must know the truth; +he had a right to know it now. His figure grew taller. Self-will and defiance +engraved deep, firm lines round his mouth. And even if it were ever so terrible, +he must know it. But was it terrible? The lines round his lips became softer. +"Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come"--very well then, he +would seek it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave up sauntering and began to stride along more quickly. +What would Frau Lämke say? And if he should ask her now--she meant so well by +him--if he should ask her in the way a man is asked when he has to swear to +anything, if he asked her whether--yes, but what was it he really wanted to ask +her?</p> + +<p class="normal">His heart throbbed. Oh, that stupid heart. It often behaved as +if it were a wild bird that has been shut up in a small cage.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had commenced to run again; now he had to slacken his pace. +And still he was quite breathless when he came to the Lämkes. The father and son +had gone out, but the mother and daughter were sitting there as though waiting +for him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida jumped up, so that the edging she had been crocheting +for the kitchen fell to the ground, seized hold of both his hands, and her blue +eyes sparkled with admiration. "Oh, how fine you are, Wolfgang! Like a +gentleman--awfully grand."</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled: that was nice of her to say it.</p> + +<p class="normal">But when Frau Lämke said in a voice full of feeling: <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 217]</span> +"Now I shall have to treat you as a grown-up, Wolfgang--you're getting too big +now--but I like you none the less for that, you may be sure, I could hardly be +fonder of my own children"--he felt happier than he had done the whole day. His +face grew tender and full of emotion, and he pressed the gnarled hand that gave +his such a hearty shake firmly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he sat down near them; they wanted to hear about +everything.</p> + +<p class="normal">He showed them his gold watch and let it strike the hour; but +he did not talk much, the atmosphere of the room filled him with a vague feeling +of delight, and he sat quite still. There was the same smell of freshly-made +coffee as once before, and the myrtle in the window and the pale monthly rose +mingled their fainter perfume with it. He had quite forgotten that he had +already been there some time; all at once it occurred to him with a sudden +feeling of dread that he had something to ask. He cast a searching glance at the +woman. She was just saying: "Oh, how pleased your mother will be to have such a +big son," when he jerked out: "Am I her son?" And as she did not answer, but +only looked at him uncertainly with her eyes full of dismay, he almost shouted +it: "Am I her son?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The mother and daughter exchanged a rapid glance; Frau Lämke +had turned scarlet and looked very embarrassed. The boy had got hold of her arms +with both hands and was bending over her. There was no getting out of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't tell me any lies," he said hastily. "I shall find it +out all the same. I must find it out. Is she my mother? Answer. And my +father--he isn't my real father either?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good gracious, Wolfgang, what makes you think of such a +thing?" Frau Lämke hid her embarrassment under a forced laugh. "That's all +nonsense."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 218]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh no." He remained quite serious. "I'm old enough now. I +must know it. I must."</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman positively writhed: oh, how disagreeable it was for +her; let the boy go somewhere else and ask. "I should get into nice trouble with +them if I told tales," she said, trying to get out of it. "Ask your parents +themselves, they'll tell you all you want to know. I'll take care not to meddle +with such things."</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, +but a warning glance made her remain silent. Her mother flew at her angrily: +"Will you be quiet? To think of you mixing yourself up with it. What next. On +the whole, what do chits like you know about such things? Wolfgang's father +knows very well what the boy is to him and where he got him from. And if the +lady is satisfied with it, no one else has a word to say about it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang stared at the gossip. "The boys say--Lisbeth +said--and now you say--you too"--he jumped up--"I'll go and ask--them." He +pointed with his finger as though pointing at something at a great distance of +which he knew nothing. "Now I must know it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But Wolfgang--no, for God's sake!" Frau Lämke pressed him +down into the chair again, quite terrified. "Lämke will beat me if he gets to +know what I've done. He may possibly lose his situation as porter because of +it--now, straightway, and the children don't earn anything as yet. I've not said +anything, have I? How can I help that other people make you suspicious and +uneasy? I don't know your mother at all and your father will, of course, have +lost sight of her long ago. Let the whole thing lie, my boy." She wanted to +soothe him, but he was not listening.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My--my father?" he stammered. "So he is my real father?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 219]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But my--my real m--" He could not say the word "mother." He +held his hands before his face and his whole body quivered. He was suddenly +seized with a longing, that great passionate longing, for a mother who had borne +him. He did not say a word, but he uttered sighs that sounded like groans.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke was frightened to death; she wanted to clear +herself but made it much worse. "Tut, tut, my dear boy, such a thing often +happens in life--very decent of him that he doesn't disown you; there are heaps +who do. And you would have far to go to find anybody like the lady who has +adopted you as her own child. Splendid--simply splendid!" Frau Lämke had often +been vexed with the fine lady, but now she felt she wanted to do her justice. +"Such a mother ought to be set in gold--there isn't such another to be found." +She exhausted herself in praise. "And who knows if it's true after all?" And +with that she concluded.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, it was all true. Wolfgang had grown quiet--at least his +face no longer showed any special emotion when he let his hands fall. "I shall +have to be going now," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida stood there looking very distressed. She had known it +all a long time--who did not know it?--but she was very sorry indeed that +<i> he</i> knew it now. Her clear eyes grew dim, and she looked at her friend +full of compassion. Oh, how much more beautiful her own confirmation last Easter +had been. She had not had any gold watch, only quite a small brooch of imitation +gold--it had cost one shilling and sixpence, for she had chosen it herself with +her mother--but she had been so happy, so happy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What text did you get?" she asked quickly, so as to take his +thoughts away from it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know it by heart," he said evasively, and <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 220]</span> his cheeks that had grown pale flamed. "But it suited." And with +that he went out of the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">He went straight home--why should he waste any more time? the +matter was urgent. He did not notice the starlings flying in and out of their +boxes on the tall pines, did not notice that there was already a bright crescent +in the evening sky that was growing darker and darker, and a golden star near +it, he only noticed with satisfaction as he entered the hall at the villa that +the coats and hats had disappeared from the pegs. That was good, the visitors +had left. He rushed to the drawing-room, he almost fell into the room. His +father and mother were still sitting there--no, his father and she, the--the----</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, tell us where you've been such along time," inquired +his father, not without a touch of vexation in his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"To-day, just on this day," said his mother. "They all sent +you their love, they waited for you. But it's almost eight o'clock now."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang cast an involuntary glance at the clock on the +mantel-piece--right, nearly eight o'clock. But all that was immaterial now. And, +staring straight in front of him as though his eyes were fixed on some object, +he placed himself in front of the two.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have something to ask you," he said. And then--it came out +quite suddenly, quite abruptly. "Whose child am I?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Now it was said. The young voice sounded hard. Or did it only +sound so cutting to Käte's ears? She heard something terribly shrill, like the +dissonant blast of a trumpet. O God, there it was, that awful question. A sudden +wave of blood laid a thick veil covered with glittering spots before her eyes; +she could not see her boy any more, she only heard his question. She <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 221]</span> stretched out her hand gropingly, helplessly--thank God, there +was her husband! He was still there. And now she heard him speak.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What makes you ask that question?" said Paul Schlieben. "Our +son of course. Whose child could you be otherwise?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know. That's just what I want to know from you," the +boy went on in his hard voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was strange how calm the voice sounded, but it seemed +doubly terrible to Käte in its monotony.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now it became a little louder: "Give me an answer--I will--I +must know it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte shuddered. What inexorableness, what obstinacy lay in +that "I will"--"I must!" He would never stop asking again. She sank down as +though crushed, and shuddered.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even the man's quiet voice betrayed a secret tremor. "Dear +boy, somebody--I will not ask who, there are always enough gossips and +abettors--has again put something into your head. Why do you treat us as if we +were your enemies? Haven't we always been like a father and mother to you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, that was wrong--<i>like</i> a father and mother? Quite +wrong. Käte started up. She stretched out her arms: "My boy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But he remained standing as though he did not see those +outstretched arms; his brows were contracted, he only looked at the man. "I know +very well that you are my father, but she"--he cast a quick sidelong glance at +her--"she's not my mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who says that?" Käte shrieked it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Everybody."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, nobody. That's not true. It's a lie, a lie! You are my +child, my son, our son I And the one who denies that lies, deceives, +slanders!----"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 222]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Käte!" Her husband looked at her very gravely, and there was +a reproach in his voice and a warning. "Käte!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And then he turned to the boy, who stood there so sullenly, +almost defiantly--drawn up to his full height, with one foot outstretched, his +head thrown back--and said: "Your mother is naturally very much agitated, you +must take care of her--to-day especially. Go now, and to-morrow we will----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, no!" Käte did not let him finish speaking, she cried in +the greatest excitement: "No, don't postpone it. Let him speak--now--let him. +And answer him--now--at once that he is our son, our son alone. +Wolfgang--Wölfchen!" She used the old pet name from his childhood again for the +first time for months. "Wölfchen, don't you love us any more? Wölfchen, come to +me."</p> + +<p class="normal">She stretched out her arms to him once more, but he did not +see those longing, loving, outstretched arms again. He was very pale and his +eyes were fixed on the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wölfchen, come."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I cannot."</p> + +<p class="normal">His face never moved, and his voice had still the same +monotonous tone which sounded so terrible to her. She sobbed aloud, and her eyes +clung to her husband--he must help her now. But he looked at her with a frown; +she could plainly read the reproach in his face: "Why did you not follow my +advice? Had we told him in time--" No, she would not find any help in him +either. And now--what was it Paul was saying now? Her eyes dilated with a sudden +fear, she grasped the arms of her chair with both hands, she wanted to sink back +and still she started up to ward off what must come now Was Paul out of his +mind? He was saying: "You are not our son."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Not your son?" The boy stammered. He had <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 223]</span> made up his mind that nothing should disconcert him, but this +answer disconcerted him all the same. It bewildered him; he turned red, then +white, and his eyes wandered uncertainly from the man to the woman, from the +woman to the man.</p> + +<p class="normal">So he, too--that man--was not his father either? But Frau +Lämke had said so? Oh, so he wanted to disown him now? He looked suspiciously at +the man, and then something that resembled mortification arose within him. If he +were not his father, then he had really no--no right whatever to be there?</p> + +<p class="normal">And, drawing a step nearer, he said hastily: "You must be my +father. You only don't want to say it now. But she"--he gave a curt nod in the +direction of the chair--"she's not my mother." His eyes gleamed; then he added, +drawing a long breath as though it were a relief: "I've always known that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You've been wrongly informed. If I had had my way, I would +have told you the truth long ago. But as the right moment--unfortunately--has +been neglected, I will tell you it to-day. I tell you it--on my word of honour, +as one man speaking to another--I am not your father, just as little as she is +your mother. You have nothing to do with us by birth, nothing whatever. But we +have adopted you as our child because we wanted to have a child and had not one. +We took you from----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Paul!" Käte fell on her husband's breast with a loud cry, as +she had done at the time when he wanted to disclose something to the boy, +because he was indignant at his ingratitude. She clasped her arms round his +neck, she whispered hastily, passionately in his ear with trembling breath: +"Don't tell him from where. For God's sake not from where. Then he'll go away, +then I shall lose him entirely. I can't bear it--have mercy, have pity on +me--only don't tell him from where."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 224]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He wanted to push her away, but she would not let go of him. +She repeated her weeping, stammering entreaty, her trembling, terrified, +desperate prayer: only not from where, only not from where.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt a great compassion for her. His poor, poor wife--was +this to happen to her? And then he was filled with anger against the boy, who +stood there so bold--arrogant--yes, arrogant--who demanded where he had to ask, +and looked at them unmoved with large, cold eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">His voice, which had hitherto been grave but gentle whilst +speaking to Wolfgang, now became severe: "Besides, I won't allow you to question +me in this manner."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I have a right to question you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, you have." The man was quite taken aback. Yes, the lad +had the right. It was quite clear who was wrong. And so he said, thinking better +of it and in a more friendly voice again: "But even if you are not our son by +birth, I think the training and the care you have received from our hands during +all these years have made you our child in spirit. Come, my son--and even if +they all say you are not our son, I tell you you are our son in truth."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No," he said. And then he walked slowly backwards to the +door, his dry eyes fixed on those he had called parents for so long.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Boy, where are you going? Stop!" the man called after him in +a kind voice. The boy was certainly in a terrible position, they must have +patience with him. And he called out once more "Stop, Wolfgang!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But Wolfgang shook his head: "I cannot. You have deceived me. +Let me go." He shook off the man's hand that he had laid on his sleeve with a +violent gesture.</p> + +<p class="normal">And then he screamed out like a wounded animal: "Why do you +still worry me? Let me go, I want to think of my mother--where is she?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 225]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>BOOK III</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 226]</span></p> + +<p class="continue">[Blank Page]</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 227]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">The clocks in the house ticked terribly loudly. They could be +heard through the silence of the night like warning voices.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, how quickly the time flew. It had quite lately been +evening--midnight--and now the clock on the mantel-piece already struck a short, +clear, hard one.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lonely woman pressed her hands to her temples with a +shudder. How they throbbed, and how her thoughts--torturing thoughts--hurried +along, madly, restlessly, like the hasty tick of the clocks.</p> + +<p class="normal">Everybody in the house was asleep--the manservant, the maids, +her husband too--long ago. Only she, she alone had not found any sleep as yet.</p> + +<p class="normal">And everything was asleep outside as well. The pines stood +around the house motionless, and their dark outlines, as stiff as though cut out +of cardboard, stood out clearly against the silvery sky of night.</p> + +<p class="normal">No shouts, no footsteps, no sound of wheels, no singing, no +laughter, not even a dog's bark came from the sleeping colony in the Grunewald. +But something that sounded like a gentle sighing was heard around the white +villa with the red roof and the green shutters.</p> + +<p class="normal">The mother, who was waiting for her son, listened: was anybody +there? No, it was the breeze that was trying to move the branches of the old +gnarled pines.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 228]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Käte Schlieben was standing at the window now. She had torn it +open impatiently some time before, and now she leant out of it. As far as her +eye could reach there was nobody to be seen, nobody whatever. There was still no +sign of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The clock struck two. The woman gazed round at the +mantel-piece with an almost desperate look: oh, that unbearable clock, how it +tortured her. It must be wrong. It could not be so late.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had sat up waiting for Wolfgang many an evening, but he +had never remained out so long as to-day. Paul had no objection to the boy going +his own way. "My child," he had said, "you can't alter it. Lie down and go to +sleep, that is much more sensible. The boy has the key, he will come home all +right. You can't keep a young fellow of his age in leading-strings any longer. +Leave him, or you'll make him dislike our house--do leave him in peace."</p> + +<p class="normal">What strange thoughts Paul had. He was certainly quite right, +she must not keep the boy in leading-strings any longer. She was not able to do +so either--had never been able to do so. But how could she go to bed quietly? +She would not be able to sleep. Where could he be?</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had grown grey. In the three years that had elapsed since +her son's confirmation she had changed considerably outwardly. Whilst Wolfgang +had grown taller and stronger and broader like a young tree, her figure had +drooped like a flower that is heavy with rain or is about to wither. Her fine +features had remained the same, but her skin, which had retained almost the +delicate smoothness of a young girl's for so long, had become looser; her eyes +looked as if she had wept a great deal. Her acquaintances found Frau Schlieben +had grown much older.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 229]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">When Käte saw herself in the glass now, she did not blush with +pleasure at the sight of her own well-preserved looks; she did not like looking +at herself any more. Something had given her a shock both inwardly and +outwardly. What that had been nobody guessed. Her husband knew it certainly, but +he did not speak of it to his wife. Why agitate her again? Why tear open old +wounds?</p> + +<p class="normal">He took good care never again to mention the day on which the +boy had been confirmed. It was also best not to do so. He had certainly taken +him very severely to task on account of his ungrateful behaviour at the time, +and had demanded of him that he should treat them more considerately and his +mother also more affectionately. And the lad, who had no doubt repented of his +conduct long ago, had stood there like a poor sinner; he had said nothing and +had not raised his eyes. And when his father had finally led him to his mother, +he had allowed himself to be led and to be embraced by his mother, who had +thrown both her arms round his neck. She had wept over him and then kissed him.</p> + +<p class="normal">And then nothing more had ever been said about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The white house with its bright green and red, which was +always being embellished and improved, both inside and out, struck everybody who +passed by as extremely cosy. The trippers on Sundays used to stand outside the +wrought iron railing and admire the abundance of flowers, the ivy-leaved +geraniums on the balconies and the splendid show of fine rose-trees in summer, +the azaleas and camellias behind the thick glass of the conservatory and the +rows of coloured primulas and early hyacinths and tulips between the double +windows in winter. The lady in her dress of soft cloth and with the wavy grey +hair and the gentle face, with its rather sad <span class="pagenum">[Pg 230]</span> +smile, suited the house and the flowers and her peaceful surroundings well. +"Delightful," the people used to say.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Wolfgang heard such things in former years when he was a +boy, he used to make faces at the people: the house and garden were no concern +of theirs, there was nothing to admire about them. Now it flattered him when +they remained standing, when they even envied him. Oh yes, the place was quite +nice. He felt very important.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben and his wife had never placed any special value +on money, they had always had enough, a competency was simply a matter of course +to them; and they never guessed that their son placed any value on wealth. When +Wolfgang used to think now of how little he had once cared for it all in his +boyish impetuosity, and that he had run away without money, without bread, he +had to smile. How childish. And when he remembered that he once, when he was +already older and able to reflect upon his actions, had asked impetuously for +something that would have been equivalent to giving up all that made his life so +comfortable, he shook his head now. Too silly.</p> + +<p class="normal">To compare himself with others afforded him a certain +satisfaction. Kesselborn was still sweating in the top form--his people made a +point of his studying theology, possibly in order to become court chaplain on +account of his noble birth--Lehmann had to help his father in his forwarding +business in spite of the very good examination he had passed on leaving school, +and look after the furniture-vans. And Kullrich--ah, poor Kullrich, he had +consumption, like his mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">The corners of Wolfgang's mouth drooped with a +half-contemptuous, half-compassionate smile when he thought of his +school-fellows. Was that living? Oh, and to live, to live was so beautiful!</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 231]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was conscious of his strength: he could tear up trees +by the roots, blow down walls that stood in his way with his breath as though +they were cards.</p> + +<p class="normal">School was no longer the place for him, his limbs and his +inclinations had outgrown the benches. Besides, he was already growing a +moustache. There had long been a black shadow on the upper lip that made one +guess it was coming, and now it had come, it had come!</p> + +<p class="normal">Surely such a grown-up person could not remain in the second +form any longer? And why should he? He was not to be a scholar. Wolfgang left +school after passing the examination that admitted him to the top form.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had given up, for the present, his intention of +sending him abroad as soon as he had finished school; he wished to keep him a +little longer under his own eye first. Not that he wanted to guard him as +carefully as Käte did, but the old doctor, their good friend whom he esteemed so +highly, had warned him in confidence once when they were sitting quite alone +over a glass of wine: "Listen, Schlieben," he had said, "you had better take +care of the boy. I wouldn't let him go so far away as yet--he is so young. And +he is a rampageous fellow and--after what he went through as a child, you +know--hm, one can never tell if his heart will hold out."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not?" Schlieben had asked in surprise. "So you look upon +him as ill?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, certainly not." The doctor had grown quite angry: at once +this exaggeration! "Who says anything about 'ill'? All the same, the lad must +not do everything in a rush. Well, and boys will be boys. We know that from our +time."</p> + +<p class="normal">And both men had nodded to each other, had brightened up and +laughed.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 232]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had a horse to ride on, rode first at the +riding-school and then a couple of hours each day out of doors. His father made +a point of his not sitting too much at the office. He would easily learn what +was necessary for him to know as a merchant, and arithmetic he knew already.</p> + +<p class="normal">The two partners, old bachelors, were delighted with the +lively lad, who came to the office with his whip in his hand and sat on his +stool as if it were a horse.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben did not hear any complaints of his son; the +whole staff, men who had been ten, twenty years with the firm, all well-oiled +machines that worked irreproachably, hung round the young fellow: he was their +future chief. Everything worked smoothly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Both father and mother were complimented on their son. "A +splendid fellow. What life there is in him." "He's only in the making," the man +would answer, but still you could see that he was pleased to hear it in his +heart. He did not feel the torturing anxiety his wife felt. Käte only raised her +eyebrows a little and gave a slight, somewhat sad smile of consent.</p> + +<p class="normal">She could not rejoice in the big lad any longer, as she had +once rejoiced in the little fellow on her lap. It seemed to her as though she +had altogether lost the capacity for rejoicing, slowly, it is true, quite +gradually, but still steadily, until the last remnant of the capacity had been +torn out by the roots on one particular day, in one particular hour, at the +disastrous moment when he had said: "I will go, I want to think of my +mother--where is she?" Ever since then. She still wished him to have the best +the earth could give, but she had become more indifferent, tired. He had trodden +too heavily on her heart, more heavily than when in days gone by his small +vigorous feet had stamped on her lap.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 233]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She bent further out of the window with a deep sigh, as she +waited all alone for him. Was it not unheard of, unpardonable of him to come +home so late? Did he not know that she was waiting for him?</p> + +<p class="normal">She clenched her hand, which rested on the windowsill, in such +a paroxysm of anger as she had rarely felt. It was foolish of her to wait for +him. Was he not old enough--eighteen? Did he still want waiting for like a boy +coming home alone from a children's party for the first time? He had made an +appointment with some other young fellows in Berlin--who knew in what café they +were spending their night?</p> + +<p class="normal">She stamped her foot. Her hot breath rose like smoke in the +cold clear night in spring, she shivered with exhaustion and discomfort. And +then she thought of the hours, all the hours during which she had watched for +him already, and her heart was filled with a great bitterness. Even her tongue +had a bitter taste--that was gall. No, she did not feel the love of former years +for him any longer. In those days, yes, in those days she had felt a +rapture--even when she suffered on his account; but now she only felt a dull +animosity. Why had he forced himself into her life? Oh, how smooth, how free +from sorrow, how--yes, how much happier it had been formerly. How he had broken +her spirit--would she ever be able to rise again?</p> + +<p class="normal">No. A hard curt no. And then she thought of her husband. He +had also robbed her of him. Had not he and she been one formerly, one in +everything? Now this third one had forced his way between them, pushed her +husband and her further and further apart--until he went on this side and she on +that.</p> + +<p class="normal">A sudden pain seized the woman as she stood there pondering, a +great compassion for herself drove the tears into her eyes; they felt hot as +they dripped down <span class="pagenum">[Pg 234]</span> on her hands that she +had clenched on the window-sill. If he--if he had only never come into their +lives----</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment a hand touched her shoulder and made her start. +She turned round like lightning: "Are you there at last?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's I," said her husband. He had woke up, and when he did +not hear her breathing beside him he had got vexed: really, now she was sitting +downstairs again, waiting for the lad. Such want of sense. And after lying a +little time longer waiting for her and vexed with her, he had cast on a few +necessary garments, stuck on his slippers and groped his way through the dark +house. He shivered with cold and was in a bad humour. That he had been disturbed +in his best sleep and that she would have a sick headache next day was not all; +no, what was worse was that Wolfgang must find it downright intolerable to be +watched in that manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was natural that he scolded her. "What wrong is there if he +remains away a little longer for once in a way, I should like to know, Käte? +It's really absurd of you. I used also to loaf about as a young fellow, but +thank goodness, my mother was sensible enough not to mind. Come, Käte, come to +bed now."</p> + +<p class="normal">She drew back. "Yes--you!" she said slowly, and he did not +know what she meant by it. She turned her back on him and leant out of the +window again.</p> + +<p class="normal">He stood a few moments longer waiting, but as she did not +come, did not even turn round to him, he shook his head. He would have to leave +her, she really was getting quite peculiar.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was half asleep as he went upstairs again alone; he almost +stumbled with fatigue, and his limbs were heavy. But in spite of that his +thoughts were clearer, more inexorable than in the daytime, when there is so +much around one to distract one's attention. At that <span class="pagenum">[Pg 235]</span> hour his +heart was filled with longing for a wife who would lead him quietly and gently +along a soft track in his old age, and whose smiles were not only outward as the +smiles on Käte's face. A wife whose heart laughed--and, alas, his Käte was not +one of those.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man lay down again with a sigh of disappointment and +shivered as he drew up the covering. But it was a long time before he could fall +asleep. If only the lad would come. It really was rather late to-day. Such +loafing about realty went too far.</p> + +<p class="normal">The morning was dawning as a cab drove slowly down the street. +It stopped outside the white villa, and two gentlemen helped a third out of it. +The two, who were holding the third under his arms, were laughing, and the +driver on his seat, who was looking down at them full of interest, also laughed +slyly: "Shall I help you, gentlemen? Well, can you do it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">They leant him up against the railing that enclosed the front +garden, rang the bell gently, then jumped hastily into the cab again and banged +the door. "Home now, cabby."</p> + +<p class="normal">The bell had only vibrated softly--a sound like a terrified +breath--but Käte had heard it, although she had fallen asleep in her chair; not +firmly, only dozing a little. She jumped up in terror, it sounded shrill in her +ears. She rushed to the window. Somebody was leaning against the railing +outside. Wolfgang? Yes, yes, it was. But why did he not open the gate and come +in?</p> + +<p class="normal">What had happened to him? All at once she felt as though she +must call for help--Friedrich! Paul! Paul!--must ring for the maids. Something +had happened to him, something must have happened to him--why did he not come +in?</p> + +<p class="normal">He leant so heavily against the railing, so strangely. <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 236]</span> His head hung down on his chest, his hat was at the back of his +head. Was he ill?</p> + +<p class="normal">Or had some vagrants attacked him? The strangest ideas shot +suddenly through her head. Was he wounded? O God, what had happened to him?</p> + +<p class="normal">Fears, at which she would have laughed at any other time, +filled her mind in this hour, in which it was not night any longer and not day +either. Her feet were cold and stiff as though frozen, she could hardly get to +the door; she could not find the key at first, and when her trembling hands +stuck it into the lock, she could not turn it. She was so awkward in her haste, +so beside herself in her fear. Something terrible must have happened. An +accident. She felt it.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last, at last! At last she was able to turn the key. And +now she rushed through the front garden to the gate; a chilling icy wind like +the breath of winter met her. She opened the gate: "Wolfgang!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not answer. She could not quite see his face; he stood +there without moving.</p> + +<p class="normal">She took hold of his hand: "Good gracious, what's the matter +with you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not move.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang! Wolfgang!" She shook him in the greatest terror. +Then he fell against her so heavily that he almost knocked her down, and +faltered, lisped like an idiot whose heavy tongue has been taught to say a few +words: "Beg--par--don."</p> + +<p class="normal">She had to lead him. His breath, which smelt strongly of +spirits, blew across her face. A great disgust, more terrible than the fear she +had had before, took possession of her. This was the awful thing she had been +expecting no, this was still more awful, more intolerable. He was drunk, drunk! +This was what a drunken man must look like.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 237]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">A drunken man had never been near her before; now she had one +close to her. The horror she felt shook her so that her teeth chattered. Oh for +shame, for shame, how disgusting, how vulgar! How degraded he seemed to her, and +she felt degraded, too, through him. This was not her Wolfgang any more, the +child whom she had adopted as her son. This was quite an ordinary, quite a +common man from the street, with whom she had nothing, nothing whatever to do +any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">She wanted to push him away from her quickly, to hurry into +the house and close the door behind her--let him find out for himself what to +do. But he held her fast. He had laid his arm heavily round her neck, he almost +weighed her down; thus he forced her to lead him.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she led him reluctantly, revolting desperately in her +heart, but still conquered. She could not leave him, exposed to the servants' +scorn, the laughter of the street. If anybody should see him in that condition? +It would not be long before the first people came past, the milk-boys, the girls +with the bread, the men working in the street, those who drank Carlsbad water +early in the morning. Oh, how terrible if anybody should guess how deeply he had +sunk.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lean on me, lean heavily," she said in a trembling voice. +"Pull yourself together--that's right." She almost broke down under his weight +but she kept him on his feet. He was so drunk that he did not know what he was +doing, he actually wanted to lie down in front of the door, at full length on +the stone steps. But she snatched him up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You must--you must," she said, and he followed her like a +child. Like a dog, she thought.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now she had got him into the hall--the front door was again +locked--but now came the fear that the servants <span class="pagenum">[Pg 238]</span> +would see him. They were not up yet, but it would not be long before Friedrich +would walk over from the gardener's lodge in his leather slippers, and the girls +come down from their attics, and then the sweeping and tidying up would +commence, the opening of the windows, the drawing up of the blinds, so that the +bright light--the cruel light--might force its way into every crevice. She must +get him up the stairs, into his room without anybody guessing anything, without +asking anyone for help.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had thought of her husband for one moment--but no, not him +either, nobody must see him like that. She helped him upstairs with a strength +for which she had never given herself credit; she positively carried him. And +all the time she kept on entreating him to go quietly, whispering the words +softly but persistently. She had to coax him, or he would not go on: "Quietly, +Wölfchen. Go on, go on, Wölfchen--that's splendid, Wölfchen."</p> + +<p class="normal">She suffered the torments of hell. He stumbled and was noisy; +she gave a start every time he knocked his foot against the stairs, every time +the banisters creaked when he fell against them helplessly, and a terrible fear +almost paralysed her. If anybody should hear it, oh, if anybody should hear it. +But let them get on, on.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Quietly, Wölfchen, quite quietly." It sounded like an +entreaty, and still it was a command. As he had conquered her before by means of +his heavy arm, so she conquered him now by means of her will.</p> + +<p class="normal">Everybody in the house must be deaf, that they did not hear +the noise. To the woman every step sounded like a clap of thunder that continues +to roll and roll through the wide space and resounds in the furthermost corner. +Paul must be deaf as well. They passed his door. The intoxicated lad remained +standing just <span class="pagenum">[Pg 239]</span> outside his parents' +bedroom, he would not on any account go further--in there--not a step further. +She had to entice him, as she had enticed the child in bygone days, the sweet +little child with the eyes like sloes that was to run from the chair to the next +halting-place. "Come, Wölfchen, come." And she brought him past in safety.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last they were in his room. "Thank God, thank God!" she +stammered, when she had got him on the bed. She was as pale as the lad, whose +face with its silly expression grew more and more livid as the day dawned. Ah, +that was the same room in which she had once, many years ago--it was exceedingly +long ago!--fought for the child's precious life with fear and trembling, where +she had crawled before God's omnipotence like a worm: only let him live, O God, +only let him live! Alas, it would have been better had he died then.</p> + +<p class="normal">As an arrow shot from a too tight bow whizzes along as quick +as lightning, so that thought whizzed through her mind. She was horrified at the +thought, she could not forgive herself for having had it, but she could not get +rid of it again. She stood with shaking knees, terrified at her own +heartlessness, and still the thought came: if only he had died at the time, it +would have been better. This--this was also the room in which she had tried on +the suit the boy, who was growing so fast, was to wear at his confirmation. Now +she drew off the grown-up man's clothes, tore off his dinner jacket, his fine +trousers--as well as she could in his present state of complete +unconsciousness--and unlaced his glacé shoes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Where had he been? A smell of cigarettes and scent and the +dregs of wine streamed from him; it almost took her breath away. There hung the +same looking-glass in which she had seen the brown boy's face near <span class="pagenum">[Pg 240]</span> +her fair woman's face, fresh and round-cheeked, a little coarse, a little +defiant, but still so nice-looking in its vigorous strength, so dear in its +innocence. And now--?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her eyes glanced at the livid face with the open mouth, from +which the breath reeking with spirits came with a snore and a rattle, in the +glass, and then at her own terrified, exhausted face, on which all the softness +had been changed into hard lines that grief had worn. A shudder passed through +her; she smoothed the untidy grey strands of hair away from her forehead with +her cold hand; her eyes blinked as though she wanted to weep. But she forced her +tears back; she must not cry any more now; that time was over.</p> + +<p class="normal">She stood some time longer in the centre of the room, +motionless, with bated breath, letting her tired arms hang down loosely; then +she crept on her toes to the door. He was sleeping quite firmly. She locked the +door from the outside and stuck the key in her pocket--nobody must go in.</p> + +<p class="normal">Should she go to bed now? She could not sleep--oh, she was too +restless--but she would have to lie down, oh yes, she must do so, or what would +the maids think, and Paul? Then she would have to get up again as she did every +day, wash herself, dress, sit at the breakfast-table, eat, talk, smile as she +did every day, as though nothing, nothing whatever had happened. And still so +much had happened!</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt so hopelessly isolated as she lay in bed beside her +husband. There was nobody to whom she could complain. Paul had not understood +her before, he would understand her even less now; he had changed so much in the +course of time. Besides, was he not quite infatuated with the boy now? Strange, +formerly when she had loved Wolfgang so, her love had always been too much of a +good thing--how often he had reproached <span class="pagenum">[Pg 241]</span> +her for it!--and now, now!--no, they simply did not understand each other any +longer. She would have to fight her battles alone, quite alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Käte heard the first sounds in the house, she would have +liked to get up, but she forced herself to remain in bed: it would attract their +attention if they saw her so early. But a great fear tortured her. If that +person--that, that intoxicated person over there should awake, make a noise, +bang on the locked door? What should she say then to make excuses for him? What +should she do? She lay in bed quite feverish with uneasiness. At last it was her +usual time to get up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose the boy came home terribly late--or rather early, +eh?" said Paul at breakfast.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh no. Just after you went upstairs."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really? But I lay awake quite a long time after that."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had said it lightly, unsuspiciously, but she got a fright +nevertheless. "We--we--he talked to me for quite a long time," she said +hesitatingly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Foolish," he said, nothing more, and shook his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, how difficult it was to tell lies. In what a position +Wolfgang placed her.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Schlieben had driven to town and the cook was busy in the +kitchen and Friedrich in the garden, Käte kept an eye on the housemaid. What a +long time she was in the bedroom to-day. "You must finish the rooms upstairs +more quickly, you are excessively slow," she said in a sharp voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid looked at her mistress, quite astonished at the +unusual way in which she spoke to her, and said later on to the cook downstairs: +"Ugh, what a bad temper the mistress is in to-day. She has been after me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had stood beside the girl until the bedroom was finished, +she had positively rushed her. Now she was <span class="pagenum">[Pg 242]</span> +alone, quite alone with him up there, now she could see what was the matter with +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Would he still be drunk? As she stood outside his door she +held her breath; putting her ear to the door she listened. There was nothing to +be heard inside, not even his breathing. After casting a glance around her she +opened the door like a thief, crept inside and locked it again behind her. She +approached the bed cautiously and softly; but she started back so hastily that +the high-backed chair she knocked against fell over with a loud noise. What was +that--there? What was it?</p> + +<p class="normal">A disgusting smell, which filled the closed room, made her +feel sick. Staggering to the window she tore it open, thrust back the +shutters--then she saw. There he lay like an animal--he, who had always been +accustomed to so much attention, he who as a child had stretched out his little +hands if only a crumb had stuck to them: "Make them clean!" and had cried. There +he lay now as if he did not feel anything, as if he did not care anything +whatever about what was going on around him, as if the bed on which he lay were +fresh and clean; his eyes, with their jet-black lashes that fell like shadows on +his pale cheeks, were firmly closed, and he slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not know what she was doing. She raised her hand to +strike him in the face, to throw a word at him--a violent word expressive of +disgust and loathing; she felt how the saliva collected in her mouth, how she +longed to spit. It was too horrible, too filthy, too terrible!</p> + +<p class="normal">A stream of light forced its way in through the open window, +of light and sun; a blackbird was singing, full and clear. Outside was the sun, +outside was beauty, but here, here? She would have liked to cover up her <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 243]</span> face and whimper, to run away and conceal herself. But who +should do what was necessary? Who should make everything tidy and clean? The +chair she had knocked down, the clothes she had drawn off him so hastily, the +disgusting smell--alas, all reminded her only too distinctly of a wild night. It +must not remain like that. And even if she did not love him any longer--no, no, +there was no voice in her heart now that spoke of love--her pride bade her not +to humble herself before the servants. Let her get it away quickly, quickly, let +nobody else find out anything about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">She set her teeth hard, pressing back the disgust that rose +again and again as though to choke her, and commenced to wash, scrub, clean. She +fetched water for herself again and again, the pitcher full, a whole pailful. +She had to do it furtively, to creep across the passage on tiptoe. Oh dear, how +the water splashed, how noisily it poured into the pail when she turned the tap +on. If only nobody, nobody found out anything about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had found a cloth to scour with, and what she had never +done before in her life she did now, for she lay on her knees like a servant and +rubbed the floor, and crept about in front of the bed and under the bed, and +stretched out her arms so as to be sure to get into every corner. Nothing must +be forgotten, everything must be flooded with fresh, clean, purifying water. +Everything in the room seemed to her to be soiled--as though it were damaged and +degraded--the floor, the furniture, the walls. She would have preferred to have +washed the wall-paper too, that beautiful deep-coloured wallpaper, or to have +torn it off entirely.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had never worked like that in her life before. Her pretty +morning-gown with the silk insertions and lace clung to her body with the +perspiration of exertion <span class="pagenum">[Pg 244]</span> and fear. The +dress had dark spots on the knees from slipping about in the wet, the hem of the +train had got into the water; her hair was dishevelled; it had come undone and +was hanging round her hot face. Nobody would have recognised Frau Schlieben as +she was now.</p> + +<p class="normal">At last, thank goodness! Käte looked round with a sigh of +relief; the air in the room was quite different now. The fresh wind that blew in +through the open window had cleared everything. Only he, he did not suit amid +all that cleanliness. His forehead was covered with clammy sweat, his cheeks +were livid, his lips swollen, cracked, his hair bristly, standing straight up in +tufts. Then she washed him, too, cooled his forehead and dried it, rubbed his +cheeks with soap and a sponge, fetched a brush and comb, combed and smoothed his +hair, ran quickly across to her room, brought the Florida water that stood on +her dressing-table and sprinkled it over him. Now she had only to put on another +bed-spread. She could not do any more, it was too difficult for her to lift him. +For he did not awake. He lay there like a tree that had been hewn down--dead, +stiff, immovable--and noticed nothing of the trembling hands that glided over +him, that pulled and smoothed now here, now there.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not know how long she had been engaged with him; a +knock at the door brought her thoughts back to the present.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who is there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I, Friedrich."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you want?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"The master wishes to know if you will come down to dinner, +ma'am."</p> + +<p class="normal">"To dinner--the master?" She pressed her hands to her head. +Was it possible? Paul back already--dinner-time? It could not be. "What time is +it?" <span class="pagenum">[Pg 245]</span> she cried in a shrill voice. She +never thought of looking herself at the watch that lay on the table beside the +bed; and it would not have been any use--the expensive gold watch, the gift he +had received at his confirmation, had stopped. It had not been wound up.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's half past two, ma'am," said Friedrich outside. And then +the man, who had been there for years, ventured to inquire respectfully: "Is the +young master not well, as he has not got up? Could I perhaps be of some use, +ma'am?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She hesitated for a moment. Should she let him into the +secret? It would be easier for her then. But the shame of it made her call out: +"There's nothing to be done, you had better go. The young master has a headache, +he will remain in bed for another hour. I'll come directly."</p> + +<p class="normal">She rushed across to her room. There was no time to change her +dress, but she would at any rate have to fasten up her hair that had fallen +down, smooth it and put a little cap on trimmed with dainty ribbons.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Still in your morning-gown?" said her husband in a tone of +surprise, as she came into the dining-room. There was also a little reproach in +his voice as he asked the question; he did not like people not to dress for +dinner.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You came exceptionally early to-day," she said in excuse. She +did not dare to look up frankly, she felt so exceedingly humiliated. She could +not eat, an intolerable memory rendered every drink, every mouthful loathsome.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where is Wolfgang?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was the question for which she really ought to have been +prepared and which crushed her nevertheless. She had no means of warding it off. +What was she to answer? Should she say he was ill? Then his father <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 246]</span> would go up and see him. Should she say he was drunk and +sleeping? Oh no, no, and still it could not remain a secret. She turned red and +white, her lips quivered and not a word crossed them.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ha ha!" All at once her husband gave a loud laugh--a laugh +partly good-natured and partly mocking--and then he stretched his hand to her +across the table and eyed her calmly: "You must not agitate yourself like that +if the boy feels a little seedy for once in a way. Such things do happen, every +mother has to go through that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But not to that degree--not to that awful degree!" She +screamed out aloud, overwhelmed with pain and anger. And then she seized her +husband's hand and squeezed it between both hers that were cold and damp, and +whispered, half stifled: "He was drunk--quite drunk--dead drunk!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really?" The man frowned, but the smile did not quite +disappear from his lips. "Well, I'll have a word with the boy when he has +finished sleeping. Dead drunk, you say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It won't have been quite as bad as that, I suppose. Still, to +be drunk--that must not happen again. To take a little too much"--he shrugged +his shoulders and a smile passed over his face as at some pleasant memory--"by +Jove, who has been young and not taken a little too much for once in a way? Oh, +I can still remember the first time I had done so. The headache after it was +appalling, but the drop too much itself was fine, splendid! I would not like to +have missed that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You--you've been drunk too?" She stared at him, with eyes +distended.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Drunk--you mustn't call that drunk exactly. A little too +much," he corrected. "You mustn't exaggerate <span class="pagenum">[Pg 247]</span> +like that, Käte." And then he went on with his dinner as if nothing had +happened, as if the conversation had not succeeded in depriving him of his +appetite.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was in a fever. When would Wolfgang wake? And what would +happen then?</p> + +<p class="normal">Towards evening she heard his step upstairs, heard him close +his window and then open it again, heard his low whistle that always sounded +like a bird chirping. Paul was walking up and down in the garden, smoking his +cigar. She was sitting in the veranda for the first time that spring, looking +down at her husband in the garden. The weather was mild and warm. Then she heard +Wolfgang approaching; she made up her mind she would not turn her head, she felt +so ashamed, but she turned it nevertheless.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was standing in the doorway leading from the dining-room to +the veranda; behind him was twilight, in front of him the brightness of the +evening sun. He blinked and pressed his eyes together, the sun shone on his face +and made it flame--or was it red because he felt so ashamed? What would he say +now? How would he begin? Her heart throbbed; she could not have spoken a single +word, her throat felt as though she were choking.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good evening," he said in a loud and cheery voice. And then +he cleared his throat as though swallowing a slight embarrassment and said in a +low voice, approaching his mother a little more: "I beg your pardon, mater, I've +overslept myself. I had no idea it was so late--I was dead tired."</p> + +<p class="normal">Still she did not say anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not know how he stood with her. She was so quiet, that +confused him a little. "The fact is, I came home very late last night."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh! did you?" She turned her head away from <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 248]</span> him and looked out into the garden again with eyes full of +interest, where her husband was just speaking to Friedrich and pointing with his +finger to an ornamental cherry-tree that was already in bloom.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I think so, at least," he said. What was he to say? Was she +angry? He must indeed have come home very late, he could not remember at what +time, altogether he could not remember anything clearly, everything seemed +rather blurred to him. He had also had a bad dream and had felt wretched, but +now he was all right again, quite all right. Well, if she had any fault to find +with him, she would have to come out with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Pointing his lips again so as to whistle like a bird and with +his hands in the pockets of his smart, well-cut trousers, he was about to go +down into the garden from the veranda when she called him back.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you want anything, mater?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You were drunk," she said softly, vehemently.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--? Oh!" He was overcome with a sudden confusion. Had he +really been drunk? He had no idea of it. But she might be right all the same, +for he had no idea how he had come home.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose you've again been sitting up waiting for me?" He +gave her a suspicious sidelong glance, and frowned so heavily that his dark +eyebrows met. "You mustn't always wait up for me," he said with secret +impatience, but outwardly his tone was anxious. "It makes me lose all liking to +do anything with the others if I think you are sacrificing your night's rest. +Please don't do so again, mater."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I won't do so again," she said, with her eyes fixed on her +lap. She could not have looked at him, she despised him so. How broad and big +and bold he had looked as he stood there saying good evening quite happily. He <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 249]</span> had behaved as if he knew nothing of all that had happened, that +he had wanted to creep on all fours, stretch himself on the doorstep as if that +were his bed or he a dog. He was as unembarrassed as though he had not been +lying in his room at dinner-time in such--such a filthy condition; as though she +had not seen him in his deep humiliation. No, she would never, never be able to +kiss him again or caress him, to lay her arms round his neck as she had been so +fond of doing when he was a boy. All at once he had become quite a stranger to +her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not say another word, did not reproach him. She heard +what her husband said to him, when he joined him in the garden, as if it did not +concern her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Although Paul Schlieben had seemed very mild when speaking to +his wife at dinner-time, he was not so now when face to face with his son. "I +hear you came home drunk--what do you mean by that?" he said to him severely. +"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who has said so?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's nothing to do with you, I know it, and that is +sufficient."</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>She</i>, of course," said the boy bitterly. "The mater +always exaggerates everything. I was certainly not drunk, I only had a little +too much--we all had--good gracious, pater, you must do what the others do! What +else is one to do on such a long evening? But it was certainly nothing bad. See +how fresh I am." And he took hold of the ornamental cherry-tree, under which +they were standing, with both hands, as if he were going to root it up, and a +whole shower of white blossoms fell down on him and on the path.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let my tree alone," said his father, smiling.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte saw it. Could Paul laugh? So he did not take it very +seriously, after all. But that did not provoke <span class="pagenum">[Pg 250]</span> +her as it would have done some time ago, she felt as if everything in her were +cold and dead. She heard the two speak as though they were far, far away, their +voices sounded quite low, and still they were speaking loudly and also +animatedly.</p> + +<p class="normal">All the same the conversation was not altogether friendly. +Even if the man was not seriously angry with the lad, he still considered it his +duty to expostulate with him. He concluded by saying: "Such immoderate drinking +is disgusting!"--but he thought to himself: "It cannot have been so bad as Käte +makes out, or I should have seen some signs of it." His brown cheeks were smooth +and firm, so shiny and so lately washed, his eyes, which were not large but +noticeable on account of their dark depths, were even more sparkling than usual.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man laid his hand on his son's shoulder: "So we must have +no more of that, Wolfgang, if we're to remain friends."</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I really don't +know what crime I've committed, pater. The whole thing is something of a mystery +to me. But it shan't happen again, I promise you."</p> + +<p class="normal">And they shook hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now something really did stir in Käte. She would have liked to +have jumped up, to have cried: "Don't believe him, Paul, don't believe him. He's +sure to get drunk again. I don't trust him. I cannot trust him. If you had seen +him as I saw him--oh, he was so vulgar!" And as in a vision a village tavern +suddenly appeared before her eyes, a tavern she had never seen. Rough men sat +round the wooden table, leaning on their elbows, smoking evil-smelling tobacco, +drinking heavily, bawling wildly ... ah, had not his father sat among them? His +grandfather too? All those from whom he was <span class="pagenum">[Pg 251]</span> +descended? She was seized with a terrible fear. It could never, never end well.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are so pale, Käte," her husband said at the evening meal. +"You sat still too long; it is still too cold outside."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aren't you well, mater?" inquired Wolfgang, politely anxious.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not answer her son, she only looked at her husband +and shook her head: "I am quite well."</p> + +<p class="normal">That satisfied them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang ate with a good appetite, with a specially big one +even; he was quite ravenous. There were also lots of good things of which he was +fond: hot fricassee of chicken with sweetbread, force-meat balls and crawfish +tails, and then some very good cold meat, butter and cheese and young radishes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Boy, don't drink so much," said Paul Schlieben, as Wolfgang +seized the decanter again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm thirsty," said his son with a certain defiance, filling +his glass to the brim and drinking it in one gulp.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That comes of revelling." His father shook his finger at him, +but smiled at the same time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It comes of swilling," thought Käte, and she shuddered with +disgust again. She had never used such an expression before even in her +thoughts, but now none seemed strong, blunt, contemptuous enough.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was no pleasant conversation in spite of the room being +so cosy, the appointments of the table so beautiful, the flowers so prettily +arranged in a cut-glass bowl on the white table-cloth, and above it all a soft +subdued light under a green silk shade. Käte was so monosyllabic that Paul soon +seized the newspaper, and the boy, after trying to stifle his yawns, at last got +up. It was really too awfully slow to have to sit there. <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 252]</span> Should he drive into Berlin again or go to bed? He did not quite +know himself what to do.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You are going to bed now?" said his mother. It was intended +for a question, but Käte heard herself that it did not sound like one.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course he's going to bed now," said his father, looking up +from his paper for a moment. "He's tired. Good night, my lad."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not tired." Wolfgang grew red and hot. What did they mean +by wanting to persuade him that he was tired? He was no longer a child to be +sent to bed. His mother's tone irritated him especially--"you are going to bed +now"--that was an order.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sparkle in his dark eyes became a blaze; the expression of +defiance and refractoriness on his face was not pleasant to see. They could no +doubt see in what a passion he was, but his father said "Good night," and held +out his hand to him without looking up from the newspaper.</p> + +<p class="normal">His mother also said "Good night."</p> + +<p class="normal">And the son grasped first one hand and then the other--he +imprinted the usual kiss on his mother's hand--and said "Good night."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 253]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was sitting in his private office, in the red +armchair he had had placed there for his comfort. But he was not leaning back in +it, he was sitting very uncomfortably, straight up, and he looked like a man who +has made a disagreeable discovery. How could the boy have contracted debts--with +such ample pocket-money? And then that he had not the courage to come and say: +"Father, I've spent too much, help me," was simply incomprehensible. Was he such +a severe father that his son had reason to fear him? Did the fear drive out +love? He reviewed his own conduct; he really could not reproach himself for +having been too strict. If he had not always been so yielding as Käte--she was +too yielding--he had always thought he had repeatedly shown the boy that he was +fond of him. And had he not also--just lately--thought the boy was fond of him +too? More fond of him than before? Wolfgang had just grown sensible, had seen +that they had his welfare at heart, that he was his parents' dear son, their +ever-increasing delight, their hope--nay, now that they had grown old, their +whole future. How was it that he preferred to go to others, to people with whom +he had nothing to do, and borrow from them instead of asking his father?</p> + +<p class="normal">The man took up a letter from his writing-desk with <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 254]</span> a grieved look, read it through once more, although he had +already read it three or four times, and then laid it back again with a gesture +of vexation. In it Braumüller, who had lately retired from the firm and was at +present in Switzerland for his health and recreation, wrote that the boy had +already borrowed money from him several times. Not that he would not gladly give +him it, that did not matter to him in the slightest, but still he considered it +his duty--&c., &c.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The fact is, dear Schlieben, the boy has got into a fast set. +I'm awfully sorry to have to tell tales about him, but I cannot put it off any +longer, as he goes to others just as well as he comes to me. And it would be +extremely painful, of course, if the son of Messrs. Schlieben & Co., to whom I +still count myself as belonging with the old devotion, should become common +talk. Don't take it amiss, old friend. I make the boy a present of all he owes +me; I am fond of him and have also been young. But I am quite pleased to have no +children, it is a deucedly difficult job to train one. Good-bye, remember me +very kindly to your wife, it is splendid here ..."</p> + +<p class="normal">The man stared over the top of the paper with a frown; this +letter, which had been written with such good intentions and was so kind, hurt +him. It hurt him that Wolfgang had so little confidence in him with respect to +this matter. Was he not straightforward? He remembered very distinctly that he +had always been truthful as a child, had been so outspoken as to offend--he had +been rude, but never given to lying. Could he have changed so now? How was that, +and why?</p> + +<p class="normal">The man resolved not to mention anything about the letter, but +to ask Wolfgang when he found an opportunity--but it must be as soon as +possible--in what condition his money matters were. Then he would hear.</p> + +<p class="normal">He quite longed to ask the question, and still he did <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 255]</span> not say a word when Wolfgang entered the private room soon +afterwards without knocking, as all the others did, and with all the careless +assurance of a son. He sat down astride on his father's writing-desk, quite +unmindful of the fact that his light trousers came into unpleasant contact with +the ink-stand. The air out of doors was clear and the sun shone brightly; he +brought a large quantity of both with him into the room that was always kept +dark, cool and secluded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Had something to vex you, pater?" What fancies could the old +gentleman have got hold of now? Certainly nothing of importance. On the whole, +who could feel vexed in such delightful, pleasant summer weather?</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang loved the sun. As he had gazed admiringly at the +small copy of it when a child, the round yellow sunflower in his garden, so he +still delighted in it. If the perspiration stood in drops on his brown skin, he +would push his white panama hat a little further back from his forehead, but he +never drew his breath more freely, easily, and felt less oppressed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was splendid, pater," he said, and his eyes gleamed. +"First of all I swam the whole width of the lake three times, there and back and +there and back and there and back again without stopping. What do you say to +that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Much too tiring, very thoughtless," remarked Paul Schlieben, +not without some anxiety. Indeed Hofmann was not at all anxious that the boy +should swim.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thoughtless? Fatiguing? Ha ha!" Wolfgang thought it great +fun. "That's a mere trifle to me. I've really missed my vocation, you know. You +ought not to have put me into an office. I ought to have been a swimmer, a rider +or--well, a cowboy in the Wild West."</p> + +<p class="normal">He had said it in joke without meaning anything, but it seemed +to the man, who suddenly looked at him with eyes that had grown suspicious, that +something serious, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 256]</span> an accusation, was +concealed behind the joke. What did he want then? Did he want to gallop through +life like an unrestrained boy?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, your sporting capacities will be of use to you when you +are a soldier," he said coolly. "At present what you have to do here is of more +importance. Have you drawn up the contract for delivery for White Brothers? Show +it to me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Directly."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang disappeared; but it was some time before he returned. +Had he only done the work now, which he had been told was urgent and was to be +done carefully? The ink was still quite fresh, the writing was very careless, +even if legible; it was no business hand. Schlieben frowned; he was strangely +irritable to-day. At any other time he would have been struck by the celerity +with which the boy had finished the work he had neglected; but to-day the +careless writing, the inkspots in the margin, the slipshod manner in which it +had all been done, which seemed to him to point to a want of interest, vexed +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm!" He examined it once more critically. "When did you do +this?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"When you gave me it to do." The tone in which Wolfgang said +this was so unabashed that it was impossible to doubt it.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man felt quite ashamed of himself. How a seed of suspicion +grows! He had really wronged his son this time. But that question of the money +still remained, the boy had not been open and honest in that. It seemed to the +father that he could not quite rely on his son any more now.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was hardly noon when Wolfgang left the office again. He had +arranged to meet a couple of acquaintances in the Imperial Café not far from the +Linden; he <span class="pagenum">[Pg 257]</span> would have to have something to +eat, and whether he had his lunch there or somewhere else was of no consequence; +a sandwich, which was all his father took with him from home, was not sufficient +for him after swimming and riding.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he showed himself again at the office for an hour in the +afternoon, but in his tennis clothes this time, in white shoes, a racket in his +hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Wolfgang left the West End tennis-ground that afternoon, +hot and red--the games had been long and obstinate--and went across to the +Zoological Gardens' Station, he hesitated as he stood at the entrance to it. He +did not feel as if he wanted to go home at all. Should he not drive into town +again instead? As a matter of fact he did not feel tempted to go into the +streets either, which the drifting crowds made still closer; it was better in +the suburbs, where there was at least a breath of fresh air blowing over the +villa--but then he would have to sit with his parents. And if his father were in +just as bad a humour as he had been at the office that morning, it would be +awful. Then it would be better to find some friend or other in Berlin. If only +he had not had his tennis suit on. That hindered him. He was still standing +undecided when he suddenly saw in the crowd that now, when work was over and +free-time come, was winding its way through the entrance to the station like a +long worm and dividing itself into arms to go up the steps to the right and +left, a mass of fair hair gleaming under a white sailor-hat trimmed with a blue +velvet band and pressed down on a forehead, which seemed well-known to him. It +was beautiful fair silky hair, smooth and shining; carelessly arranged in an +enormous knot to all appearances, but in reality with much care. And now he +recognised the blue eyes and the pert little nose under the straw hat. Frida +Lämke! Oh, what <span class="pagenum">[Pg 258]</span> a long time since he had +seen her. He suddenly remembered the hundreds of times he had neglected them. +How little he had troubled himself about those good people. That was very wrong +of him. And all at once it seemed to him that he had missed them always, the +whole time. He reached her side with one bound like an impetuous boy, not +noticing that he trod on a dress here and that he gave somebody a shove in the +side there.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Frida!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She gave a little start. Who had accosted her so boldly?</p> + +<p class="normal">"How do, Frida. How are you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not recognise him at first, but then she blushed and +pouted. What a gentleman Wolfgang had grown. And she answered a little pertly, a +little affectedly: "Very well, thanks, Mr. Wolfgang. Are you quite well too?" +and she threw her fair head back and laughed.</p> + +<p class="normal">He would not hear of her calling him "Mr. Wolfgang." +"Nonsense, what are you thinking of?" And he was so cordial, so quite the +Wolfgang of former years, that she was soon on the old terms with him again. She +dropped her affectation entirely. They walked beside each other as intimately as +if almost a year had not passed since last they had talked together.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Young lovers," thought many a one who came across them +strolling along near the coppices in the Tiergarten. They had let their train +go--he had no wish to hurry home, at any rate--and so they walked further and +further in among the green trees, where it was already dark and where even his +light tennis suit and her light blouse could not be distinguished any longer. +The nightingales had grown silent long ago; all that was heard was a girl's soft +laugh now and then, which sounded like the cooing of a dove, and the low +whispers of invisible couples. Whispers came from the benches that stood in the +dark, summer dresses rustled, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 259]</span> burning +cigars gleamed like glow-worms; all the seats one came across were occupied. It +was extremely close in the park.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang and Frida spoke of Frau Lämke. "She's always ill, she +has had to go to the doctor so often," said the girl, and her voice trembled +with sincere grief. Wolfgang was very sorry.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Frida came home that evening extremely late--the house +had been closed long before; Frau Lämke had already begun to get nervous, and +did not know how she should keep the roast potatoes warm--she threw her arms +round her mother's neck: "Mother, mummy, don't scold." And then it came out with +a rush, that she had met Wolfgang: "Wolfgang Schlieben, you know. He was so +nice, mother, you can't think how nice he was. Not the slightest bit stuck-up. +And he asked at once how you were, and when I told him you had something the +matter with your stomach and your nerves, he was so sorry. And he said: 'You +must get your mother out in this beautiful weather,' and he gave me this +bank-note--here, do you see it, a green one. I did not want to take it on any +account, what would people think of it?--but he was so strong, he stuffed it +into my hand. I could have screamed, he pulled my fingers apart so--are you +angry, mother, that I took it? I didn't want to, I really didn't want to. But he +said, 'It's for your mother.' And 'Do be sensible, Frida.'" Frida almost cried, +she felt so touched and so grateful.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke took it more calmly. "Perhaps I can go to Eberswald +to my brother, or even to my sister in the Riesengebirge. And I'll give up the +places where I clean for a few weeks, that will do me an enormous amount of +good. The good boy, that was nice of him, that he thought of his old friend. Hm, +he can do it too. What are fifty marks to people like him?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 260]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">When Wolfgang had taken Frida to her door he had strolled on +slowly, his racket under his arm, his hands in the pockets of his wide trousers. +A sky, richly spangled with stars, extended over his head, innumerable golden +eyes watching him with a kind twinkle. There were no more wheels to be heard, no +crowds of pedestrians whirled up the dust of the street any longer. What the +dust-carts, passing backwards and forwards during the day, had not been able to +do, the night-dew had done. The loose sand had been settled, a cool freshness +rose up out of the earth, one could smell the trees and bushes; a fragrance of +flowers ascended from the beds in the gardens that the darkness had swallowed +up. Wolfgang drew a deep breath of delight and whistled softly; his heart was +full of peace and joy; now it was a good thing he was not wandering about in +Berlin. It had been so nice with Frida. What a lot they had had to talk +about--and then--he was really awfully pleased to be able to help Frau Lämke a +little.</p> + +<p class="normal">He came home thoroughly happy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The master and mistress have had their supper long ago," +Friedrich took the liberty of remarking with a certain reproach--the young +gentleman was really too unpunctual.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, can't be helped," said Wolfgang. "Tell the cook she's +to prepare me something quickly, a cutlet or some beefsteak, or--what else was +there for supper this evening? I'm ravenous."</p> + +<p class="normal">Friedrich looked at him quite taken aback. Now! at half past +ten? The master or the mistress had never thought of asking for such a thing--a +warm supper at half past ten? He stood hesitating.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, am I soon going to get something?" the young gentleman +called to him over his shoulder, and went into the dining-room.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 261]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">His parents were still sitting at the table--both were +reading--but the table was empty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good evening," said the boy, "is the table cleared already?" +You could plainly hear the surprise in his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So there you are!" His father nodded to him but did not look +up; he seemed to be quite taken up with his reading. And his mother said: "Are +you going to sit with us a little?"</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once the lad shivered. It had been so nice and warm +outside, here it was cool.</p> + +<p class="normal">And then everything was quiet for a while, until Friedrich +came in with a tray on which there was only a little cold meat, bread, butter +and cheese beside the knife and fork. It struck Wolfgang how loudly he rattled +the things; the housemaid generally waited. "Where's Marie?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"In bed," said his mother curtly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Already?" Wolfgang wondered why to himself. Hark, the clock +in his mother's room was just striking--eleven? Was it actually already eleven +o'clock? They would really have to be quick and get him something to eat, he was +dying for want of food. He fixed his eyes on the door through which Friedrich +had disappeared. Was something soon coming?</p> + +<p class="normal">He waited.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Eat something." His mother pushed the dish with cold meat +nearer to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why don't you eat?" asked his father suddenly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I am still waiting."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's nothing more," said his mother, and her face, which +looked so extremely weary like the face of one who has waited long in vain, +flushed slightly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nothing else?--nothing more?--why?" The boy looked +exceedingly disappointed. He glanced from <span class="pagenum">[Pg 262]</span> +his mother to the table, then to the sideboard and then round the room as though +searching for something.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Haven't you had anything else to eat?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, we have had something else--but if you don't come--" His +father knit his brows, and then he looked straight at his son for the first time +that evening, surveying him with a grave glance. "You can't possibly expect to +find a warm supper, when you come home so unpunctually."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But you--you are not obliged to"--the young man swallowed the +rest--he would have much preferred it had his parents not sat there waiting for +him; the servants would have done what was expected of them.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Perhaps you think the servants don't require their night's +rest?" said his father, as though he had guessed his thought. "The maids, who +have been in the kitchen the whole day, want to have done in the evening as well +as other people. So you must come earlier if you want to have supper with us. +Moreover, I don't suppose it will harm a young fellow to get nothing but a piece +of bread and butter for his supper for once in a way. Besides, you who--" he was +going to say "you who get such a good dinner"--but the young man's face, which +expressed such immeasurable astonishment, irritated him, and he said in a loud +and, contrary to his custom, angry voice, angrier than he had intended: +"You--are you entitled to make such claims? How can you think of doing so, you +especially?" A movement made by his wife, the rustling of her dress, reminded +him of her presence, and he continued more temperately, but with a certain angry +scorn: "Perhaps you do too much? Two hours at the office in the morning--hardly +that--an hour in the afternoon--yes, that's an astonishing, an enormous amount +of work, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 263]</span> +which must tax your powers greatly. Indeed, it requires quite special food. +Well, what, what?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had been going to say something, but his father did +not allow him to speak: "Let me see a more modest look on your face first, and +then you may speak. Lad, I tell you, if you apply to Braumüller for money any +more----!"</p> + +<p class="normal">There, there, it was out. In his wrath he had forgotten the +diplomatic questions he had intended asking, and all he had meant to find out by +listening to his replies. The man felt quite a relief now he could say: "It's an +unheard-of thing! It's a disgrace for you--and for me!" The excited voice had +calmed down, the last words were almost choked by a sigh. The man rested his arm +on the table and his head in his hand; one could see that he took it much to +heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte sat silent and pale. Her eyes were distended with +horror--so he had done that, that, borrowed money? That too? Not only that he +got drunk, dead drunk but that, that too? It could not be possible--no! Her eyes +sought Wolfgang's face imploringly. He must deny it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, really, pater," said Wolfgang, trying to smile, "I don't +know what's the matter with you. I asked your partner to do me a little +favour--besides, he offered to do it himself, he has always been most friendly +to me. I was just going to send it back to him"--he glanced sideways at his +father: did he know how much it was?--"I'll send it to him to-morrow."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, to-morrow." There was suspicion in the man's tone, but a +certain relief nevertheless; he was so anxious to think the best of his son. +"What other debts have you?" he asked. And then he was suddenly seized with the +fear that the lad was deceiving him, and, terrified at the great responsibility +he had taken on <span class="pagenum">[Pg 264]</span> himself, he said in a +voice that was harder than he really intended, much harder than was compatible +with his feelings: "I would punish you as a good-for-nothing fellow if I heard +you had! I would cast you off--then you could see how you got on. Disgraceful +debts! To be in debt!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte gazed at her husband the whole time. She had never seen +him like that before. She wanted to call out, to interrupt him: "You are too +strict, much too strict. You'll prevent him confessing anything if you speak +like that"--but she could not say a word. She was mute under the burden of the +fears that overwhelmed her. Her eyes, full of a terrible anxiety, hung on the +young face that had grown pale.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang's lips quivered; his thoughts were active. He wanted +to speak, had already opened his mouth to do so, to confess that he had spent +more than he had had. If only his father were not always so extremely proper. +Good gracious, you cannot help pulling handfuls of money out of your pockets if +you have got it to spend! But he did not say anything to these--these two about +it. They were good people on the whole, but they could not put themselves into +his place. Good people? No, they were not.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now came his indignation. What possessed his father to +treat him in that manner, to scold him in that tone of voice? Like a criminal. +And she, why did she stare at him in that way with eyes in which he thought he +read something that looked like contempt? Well, then, he would horrify them +still more, hurl into their faces: "Of course I have debts, what does that +matter?" But in the midst of his anger came the cool calculation: what had his +father said: "I would cast you off"?</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once Wolfgang got a great fright. He had <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 265]</span> need of these people, he could not do without them. And so he +pulled himself together quickly: he must not confess anything, by any means, he +must be sure not to betray himself. And he said, in a quick transition from +defiant passion to smooth calmness: "I don't know why you excite yourself so, +pater. I have none."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really none?" His father looked at him gravely and +inquiringly, but a glad hope shone already through the gravity.</p> + +<p class="normal">And when his son answered "No," he stretched out his hand to +him across the table: "I'm pleased to hear it."</p> + +<p class="normal">They were very nice to him that evening. Wolfgang felt it with +much satisfaction. Well, they owed him an apology, too. He allowed them to make +much of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">The father felt glad, quite relieved that nothing else, +nothing worse had come to light, and the mother had the feeling for the first +time for many weeks that it was possible to love the lad again. Her voice had +something of the old sound once more when she spoke to him. And she spoke a good +deal to him, she felt the need to do so. She had not spoken so much to him +during all those weeks. She felt as if a spring within her had been bricked up +and had to discharge itself now. He had contracted no debts. Thank God, he was +not quite so bad then! Now she was sorry she had sent the maids to bed, because +she had been annoyed with him for coming home so late--for his loafing about, as +she had called it in her thoughts--and had no proper supper for him. If she had +not been afraid of her husband, she would have gone down into the kitchen and +tried to prepare something better for him herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you really had enough?" she said to him in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 266]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it'll do." He felt his superiority.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben put his paper aside that evening. When his son +asked him politely if he would not read, he shook his head: "No, I've read the +whole evening." He, too, felt the need of, nay, felt it his duty to have, a +friendly talk to his son, even if he found that Käte was going too far, as +usual. She really need not make such a fuss of the boy, he had done wrong hi any +case; the Braumüller matter must not be forgotten, he ought to have come +openly--but really, after all, it was only a stupidity, a thing that might +happen ninety times out of every hundred.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man resolved to raise his monthly allowance by 100 marks, +when he paid him on the first of the month. Then he would certainly have ample, +and there could be no more talk of not being able to make both ends meet and of +secrecy.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was already far past midnight when the parents and son at +last parted. Käte stretched herself in her bed with a feeling of happiness she +had not known for a long time: she would soon fall asleep; she would not have to +lie so long waiting for sleep to come to her, she felt so relieved, so +reassured, so soothed. Things were working better now, everything would still be +right at last. And she whispered softly to her husband: "Paul!" He did not hear +her, he was already half asleep. Then she whispered more urgently: "Paul, Paul!" +And when he moved she said softly: "Paul, are you angry with me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Angry? Why should I be?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I only thought you might be." She did not want to give +any explanation, besides it was hardly necessary, for she had the impression +that he, too, felt that they themselves would be on better, pleasanter, more +cordial and more united terms with each other <span class="pagenum">[Pg 267]</span> +in the future. Oh yes, if they were on better terms with him--the boy--then he +and she would also be on better terms with each other.</p> + +<p class="normal">The elderly woman was seized with a great longing for the days +when they loved each other. She felt ashamed of herself, but she could not help +it, she stretched out her hand to the bed that stood next to hers: "Give me your +hand, Paul."</p> + +<p class="normal">And as she groped about in the dark, she found his hand that +was searching for hers. They clasped hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good night, dear husband."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good night, dear wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">They fell asleep thus.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang stood at the window of his room, looking out into the +obscurity that hid all the stars and listening to the roar of the distant wind. +Was the night so sultry, or was it only he who was so unbearably hot? A +thunder-storm seemed to be coming on. Or was it only an inward restlessness that +weighed him down? What was it that tortured him?</p> + +<p class="normal">He thought he had hardly ever felt so uncomfortable before. He +was vexed with his father, vexed with his mother--if they had been different +from what they were, if everything had been different from what it was, he would +not have been obliged to tell lies, to dissemble. He was vexed with himself. Oh, +then he would have felt easier now, much freer. He knit his brows angrily; a +sudden longing for something he could not name made him tremble. What did he +want, what was he longing for? If he only knew!</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave a loud sigh, and stretched his arms with the strong +hands out into the night. Everything was so narrow, so narrow. If he only were +the boy again who had once climbed out of this window, yes, this window--he +leant out and measured the height--who had run <span class="pagenum">[Pg 268]</span> +away, hurrah! without asking himself where he was going, simply on and on. That +had been magnificent! A splendid run!</p> + +<p class="normal">And he leant further and further out of the window. The night +wind was whispering, it was like an alluring melody. He trembled with eagerness. +He could not tear himself away, he had to remain there listening. The wind was +rising, there was a rustling in the trees, it rose and rose, grew and grew. The +rustling turned into a blustering.</p> + +<p class="normal">He forgot he was in a room in a house, and that he had parents +there who wanted to sleep. He gave a shout, a loud cry, half of triumph. How +beautiful it was out there, ah!</p> + +<p class="normal">A storm. The snorting wind, that had risen so suddenly, blew +his hair about and ruffled it at the temples. Ah, how beautifully that cooled. +It was unbearable in the house, so gloomy, so close. He felt so scared, so +terrified. How his heart thumped. And he felt so out of temper: how unpleasant +it had been that evening again. His father had said he ought to have confessed +it to him--of course, it would have been better--but if he threatened him in +that way after the thing was over in a manner, what would he have said before? +This everlasting keeping him in leading strings was not to be borne. Was he +still a child? Was he a grown-up man or was he not? Was he the son of rich +parents or was he not? No, he was not. That was just what he was not.</p> + +<p class="normal">The thunder rumbled afar in the dark night. Suddenly there was +a brilliant flash--that was just what he was not, not the son, not the son of +this house. Otherwise everything would have been different. He did not know in +what way--but different, oh, quite different.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had not thought of these things for a long <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 269]</span> +time--the days were so full of distractions but now in this dark stormy night, +in which he would not be able to sleep, he had to think. What he had always +driven back because it was not pleasant, what he thought he had quite +forgotten--perhaps because he wished to forget it--he would have to consider +now. What had been repressed for so long broke out forcibly now, like the stormy +wind that suddenly came rushing along, bending the tops of the pines so that +they cowered with terror. Wolfgang would have liked to have made his voice heard +above the roar of the storm.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was furious, quite absurdly furious, quite thoughtlessly +furious. Oh, how it lightened, crashed, rumbled, roared and snorted. What a +conflict--but it was beautiful nevertheless. He raised himself up on his toes +and exposed his hammering breast to the strong wind. He had hardly ever felt +such delight as when those gusts of wind struck his chest like blows from a +fist. He flung himself against them, he regularly caught them on his broad +chest.</p> + +<p class="normal">And still there was torture mingled with the delight. Face to +face with this great storm, that became an event in his life as it were, +everything else seemed so pitifully small to him, and he too. There he stood now +in coat and trousers, his hands in his pockets, rattling his loose money; he was +annoyed because he had let them lecture him, and still he had not the courage to +throw everything aside and do exactly as he liked.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lad followed the yellow and blue flashes of lightning that +clove the dark stormy sky in zigzag, and poured a dazzling magic light over the +world, with sparkling eyes. Oh, to be able to rush along like that flash of +lightning. It rushed out of the clouds down to the earth, tore her lap open and +buried itself in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">His young blood, whose unused vitality quivered in <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 270]</span> his clenched fists, his energy, which had not been spent on any +work, groaned aloud. All at once Wolfgang cursed his life. Oh, he ought to be +somewhere quite different, live at quite a different place, quite different.</p> + +<p class="normal">And even if he were not so comfortable there, let him only get +away from this place, away. It bored him so terribly to be here. He loathed it. +He drew a deep breath, oh, if only he had some work he would like to do! That +would tire him out, so that he had no other desire but to eat and then sleep. +Better to be a day labourer than one who sits perched on a stool in an office +and sees figures, nothing but figures and accounts and ledgers and +cash-books--oh, only not let him be a merchant, no, that was the very worst of +all.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hitherto Wolfgang had never been conscious of the fact that he +would never be any good as a merchant; now he knew it. No, he did not like it, +he could not go on being a merchant. Everyone must surely become what nature has +meant him to be.</p> + +<p class="normal">He would say it in the morning--no, he would not go to the +office any more, he would not do it any longer. He would be free. He leant out +of the window once more, and scented the damp, pleasant smell that rose up out +of the soaked earth with distended nostrils, panting greedily like a thirsty +stag.</p> + +<p class="normal">The rain had come after the thunder and lightning, and had +saturated the thirsty earth and penetrated into it, filling all its pores with +fertility. It rained and rained uninterruptedly, came down in torrents as if it +would never end.</p> + +<p class="normal">Something gave way in Wolfgang's soul; it became soft.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mother," he whispered dreamily, stretching out his hot hands +so that the cool rain bathed them. Then he stretched his head far out too, +closed his eyes and raised his head, so that the falling drops refreshed his <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 271]</span> burning lids and the wide-open, thirsty lips drank the tears of +heaven as though they were costly wine.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">But in the morning, when the sand in the Grunewald had +swallowed up all the rain, and nothing was left of the storm that had cleared +the air during the night but the somewhat fresher green of the lawns, a stronger +smell of the pines and many fallen acorns and chestnuts on the promenade, +Wolfgang thought differently again. The day was beautiful; he could swim, ride, +go to the office for a short time, eat, drink, play tennis, make an appointment +for the evening--there were so many places where you could amuse yourself--and +why should he spoil this splendid day for himself and, after all, his father +too? He thrust every graver thought aside as burdensome. But his soul was not at +peace all the same. He tried to deaden thought.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not fall asleep so quickly as on the previous night; +even if she had promised herself not to sit up and wait for him any more, she +could not sleep if he were not at home. She heard the clocks strike terribly +loudly, as she had done on a former occasion; every noise, even the slightest, +penetrated to her ear through the stillness of the house, sounding much louder. +She would hear him, she must hear him as soon as he stuck the key into the front +door.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she heard nothing, although she lay long awake listening. +The hours crept on, the day dawned, a pale streak of light no broader than her +thumb stole through the closed shutters; she saw it on the wall opposite to her +bed. The light became gradually less and less wan, more decided in colour, a +warm, sunny, ruddy gold. No cock proclaimed the new day with triumphant crow, +the house was so quiet, the garden so silent, but the light betrayed that it was +morning.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 272]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She must have slept, however, without knowing it. What, was it +already morning? She was sure now that he must have been at home a long time, +she had simply not heard him come in. That calmed her. But she dressed +hurriedly, without paying as much attention to her dress as usual, and she could +not resist standing outside his door to listen before going down to breakfast. +He was not up yet--of course not, he had come home so late--he was still asleep. +She would be able to look at him without his knowing. She went in, but he was +not asleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman looked at the bed with bewildered eyes--there it +was, open, invitingly white and comfortable, but he was not in it. The bed had +not been touched. The room was empty.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then her heart grew cold with dread. So she had not slept, his +return had not escaped her. On that former occasion he had come home--true, he +was drunk, but still he had come home--but not this time!</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 273]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang not here again?" said Paul Schlieben as he joined +his wife in her room. "He comes so little to the office too. They always assure +me that he has just been--but why doesn't he keep the same office-hours as I? +Where is he?" He looked inquiringly and impatiently at his wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">She shrugged her shoulders, and the evening sun, which was +casting a last gleam through the tall window as it set, touched her cheek with +red for a moment. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. And then she looked +so lost as she gazed out into the autumn evening, that her husband felt that her +thoughts were far away, looking for something outside.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've just come from town, Käte," he said somewhat annoyed, +and the vexation he felt at his son's absence gave his voice a certain +sharpness, "and I'm hungry and tired. It's already eight o'clock--we'll have our +supper. And you've not even a friendly face to show me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She got up quickly to ring for supper, and tried to smile. But +it was no real smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">He saw it, and that put him still more out of humour. "Never +mind, don't try. Don't force yourself to smile." He sat down at the table with a +weary movement. But his hunger did not seem to be so great, after all, as <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 274]</span> he only helped himself in a spiritless manner when the steaming +dishes were brought in and placed in front of him, and ate in the same manner +without knowing what he was eating.</p> + +<p class="normal">The dining-room was much too large for the two lonely people; +the handsome room looked uncomfortably empty on that cool evening in autumn. The +woman shivered with cold.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We shall have to start heating the house," said the man.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was all that was said during the meal. After it was over +he got up to go across to his study. He wanted to smoke there, the room was +smaller and cosier; he did not notice that his wife's eyes had never left him.</p> + +<p class="normal">If Paul would only tell her what he thought of Wolfgang +staying away! Where could Wolfgang be now? She became entirely absorbed in her +wandering thoughts, and hardly noticed that she was alone in the cold empty +room.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had a book in front of her, a book the whole world found +interesting--an acquaintance had said to her: "I could not stop reading it; I +had so much to think about, but I forgot everything owing to the book"--but it +did not make her forget anything. She felt as though she were in great trouble, +and that that was making her dull. Even duller, more indifferent to outward +things than at the time of her father's and mother's deaths. She had read so +much in those years of mourning, and with special interest, as though the old +poems had been given to her anew and the new ones were a cheering revelation. +She could not read anything now, could not follow another's thoughts. She clung +to her own thoughts. True, her eyes flew over the page, but when she got to the +bottom she did not know what she had read. It was an intolerable condition. Oh, +owh <span class="pagenum">[Pg 275]</span> much she would have liked to have +taken an interest in something. What would she not have given only to be able to +laugh heartily for once; she had never experienced a similar longing for +cheerfulness, gaiety and humour before. Oh, what a relief it would have been for +her if she could have laughed and cried. Now she could not laugh, +but--alas!--not cry either, and that was the worst: her eyes remained dry. But +the tears of sorrow she had not wept burnt her heart and wore out her life with +their unshed salty moisture.</p> + +<p class="normal">No, death was not the most terrible that could happen. There +were more terrible things than that. It was terrible when one had to say to +oneself: "You have brought all your suffering on yourself. Why were you not +satisfied? Why must you take by force what nature had refused?" It was more +terrible when one felt how one's domestic happiness, one's married happiness, +love, faith, unity, how all that intimately unites two people was beginning to +totter--for did she not feel every day how her husband was getting colder and +colder, and that she also treated him with more indifference? Oh, the son, that +third person, it was he who parted them. How miserably all her theories about +training, influence, about being born in the spirit had been overthrown. +Wolfgang was not the child in which she and her husband were united in body and +soul--he was and would remain of alien blood. And he had an alien soul. Poor +son!</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once a discerning compassion shot up in the heart of +the woman, who for days, weeks, months, even years, had felt nothing but +bitterness and mortification, ay, many a time even something like revolt against +the one who thus disturbed her days. How could she be so very angry with him, +who was not bound to his parents' house by a hundred ties? It was not <i>his</i> +parents' <span class="pagenum">[Pg 276]</span> house, that was just the point. +Maybe he unconsciously felt that the soil there was not his native soil--and now +he was seeking, wandering.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte pondered, her head resting heavily in her hand: what was +she to do first? Should she confess to him where he came from? Tell him +everything? Perhaps things would be better then. But oh, it was so difficult. +But it must be done. She must not remain silent any longer. She felt her +trembling heart grow stronger, as she made the firm resolve to speak to him when +he returned home. What she had kept as the greatest secret, what she had guarded +with trembling, what nothing could have torn from her, as she thought, she was +now prepared to reveal of her own free will. She must do so. Otherwise how could +things ever be better? How could they ever end happily, or ever end at all?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her eyes wandered about seeking something fervently; there was +a terrified expression in them. But there was no other way out. Käte Schlieben +prepared herself for the confession with a resoluteness that she would not have +been capable of a year ago. For one moment the wish came to her to call Paul to +help her. But she rejected the thought quickly--had he ever loved Wolfgang as +she had done? Perhaps it would be a matter of no moment to him--no, perhaps it +would be a triumph to him, he had always been of a different opinion to her. And +then another thing. He might perhaps forestall her, tell Wolfgang himself, and +he must not do that. She, she alone must do that, with all the love of which she +was still capable, so that it might be told him in a forbearing, merciful and +tender manner.</p> + +<p class="normal">She ran hastily across to her sitting-room. She kept the +certificate of his baptism and the deed of surrender they had got from his +native village in her writing-desk <span class="pagenum">[Pg 277]</span> there; +she had not even trusted the papers to her husband. Now she brought them out and +put them ready. She would have to show him that everything was as she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">The papers rustled in her trembling hands, but she repressed +her agitation. She must be calm, quite calm and sensible; she must throw down +the castle in the air she had built for herself and that had not turned out as +in her dreams, knowing fully what she was doing. But even if this castle in the +air collapsed, could not something be saved from the ruins? Something good rise +from them? He would be grateful to her, he must be grateful to her. And that was +the good that would rise.</p> + +<p class="normal">She folded her hands over the common paper on which the +evidence was written, and quivering sighs escaped from her breast that were like +prayers. O God, help me! O God, help me!</p> + +<p class="normal">But if he did not understand her property, if she did not find +the words that must be found? If she should lose him thereby? She was overcome +with terror, she turned pale, and stretched out her hands gropingly like one who +requires a support. But she remained erect. Then rather lose him than that he +should be lost.</p> + +<p class="normal">For--and tears such as she had not been able to weep for a +long, long time, dropped from her eyes and relieved her--she still loved him, +after all, loved him more than she had considered possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">So she waited for him. And even if she had to wait until dawn +and if he came home drunk again--more drunk than the first time--she would still +wait for him. She must tell him that day. She was burning to tell him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had gone to bed long ago. He was vexed with his +wife, had only stuck his head into the room and given a little nod: "Good +night," and gone <span class="pagenum">[Pg 278]</span> upstairs. But she walked +up and down the room downstairs with slow steps. That tired her physically, but +gave her mind rest and thereby strength.</p> + +<p class="normal">When she went to meet Wolfgang in the hall on hearing him +close the door, her delicate figure looked as though it had grown, it was so +straight and erect. The house slept with all in it, only he and she were still +awake. They were never so alone, so undisturbed nowadays. The time had come.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she held out her hand to him, which she would not have +done on any other occasion had he come so late--thank God, he was not +drunk!--and approached her face to his and kissed him on the cheek: "Good +evening, my son."</p> + +<p class="normal">He was no doubt somewhat taken aback at this reception, but +his sunken eyes with the black lines under them looked past her indifferently.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was terribly tired--one could see--or was he ill? But all +that would soon be better now. Käte seized hold of his hand once more full of +the joyful hope that had been awakened in her, and drew him after her into her +room.</p> + +<p class="normal">He allowed himself to be drawn without resisting, he only +asked with a yawn: "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I must tell you something." And then quickly, as though he +might escape her or she might lose courage, she added: "Something +important--that concerns you your that concerns your--your birth."</p> + +<p class="normal">What would he say--she had stopped involuntarily--what would +he say now? The secret of his birth for which he had fought full of longing, +fought strenuously--oh, what scenes those had been!--would now be revealed to +him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She leant towards him involuntarily, ready to support him.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 279]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Then he yawned again: "Must it really be now, mater? There's +plenty of time to-morrow. The fact is, I am dead beat. Good night." And he +wheeled round, leaving her where she was, and went out of the room and up the +stairs to his bedroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">She stood there quite rigid. Then she put her hand up to her +head: what, what was it? She must not have understood him properly, she must be +deaf, blind or beside herself. Or he must be deaf, blind or beside himself. She +had gone up to him with her heart in her mouth, she had held out her hand, she +had wanted to speak to him about his birth--and he? He had yawned--had gone +away, it evidently did not interest him in the slightest. And here, here, in +this very room--it was not yet four years ago--he had stood almost on the same +spot in the black clothes he had worn at his confirmation--almost as tall as he +was now, only with a rounder, more childish face--and had screamed aloud: +"Mother, mother, where is my mother?" And now he no longer wanted to know +anything?</p> + +<p class="normal">It was impossible, she could not have understood him aright or +he not her. She must follow him, at once, without delay. It seemed to her that +she must not neglect a moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">She hurried noiselessly up the stairs in her grey dress. She +saw her shadow gliding along in the dull light the electric bulb cast on the +staircase-wall, but she smiled: no, she was not sorrow personified gliding along +like a ghost any longer. Her heart was filled with nothing but joy, hope and +confidence, for she was bringing him something good, nothing but good.</p> + +<p class="normal">She went into his room without knocking, in great haste and +without reflecting on what she was doing. He was already in bed, he was just +going to put out the light. She sat down on the edge of his bed.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 280]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang," she said gently. And as he gazed at her in +surprise with a look that was almost unfriendly, her voice sounded still softer: +"My son."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes--what's the matter now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was really annoyed, she noticed it in the impatient tone of +his voice, and then she suddenly lost courage. Oh, if he looked at her like +that, so coldly, and if his voice sounded so repellent, how difficult it was to +find the right word. But it must be done, he looked so pale and was so thin, his +round face had positively become long. What had struck her before struck her +with double force now, and she got a great fright. "Wolfgang," she said hastily, +avoiding his glance almost with fear--oh, how he would accuse her, how +reproachful he would be, and justifiably reproachful--"I must tell you at +last--it's better--it won't surprise you much either. Do you still remember that +Sunday it was the day of your confirmation--you--you asked us then----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, what along introduction it was. She called herself a +coward; but it was so difficult, so unspeakably difficult.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not interrupt her with a single sound, he asked no +questions, he did not sigh, he did not even move.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not venture to turn her eyes, which were fixed on one +point straight in front of her, to look at him. His silence was terrible, more +terrible than his passion. And she called out with the courage of despair: "You +are not our son, not our own son."</p> + +<p class="normal">He still did not say anything; did not make a single sound, +did not move. Then she turned her eyes on him. And she saw how the lids fell +over his tired, already glassy eyes, how he tore them open again with difficulty +and how they closed once more, in short, how he fought with sleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">He could sleep whilst she told him this--this? A terrible +feeling of disillusion came over her, but still she <span class="pagenum">[Pg +281]</span> seized hold of his arm and shook him, whilst her own limbs trembled +as though with fever: "Don't you hear--don't you hear me? You are not our +son--not our own son."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, I know," he said in a weary voice. "Leave me, leave me." +He made a gesture as if to thrust her away.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And it--" her complete want of comprehension made her stammer +like a child--"it does not affect you? It--it leaves you so cold?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Cold? Cold?" He shrugged his shoulders, and his tired, dull +eyes began to gleam a little. "Cold? Who says it leaves me cold--has left me +cold?" he amended hastily. "But you two have not asked about that. Now +<i> I</i> won't hear anything more about it. I'm tired now. I want to sleep." He +turned his back on her, turned his face to the wall and did not move any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">There she stood--he was already asleep, or at least seemed to +be so. She waited anxiously a few minutes longer--would he, would he not have to +turn once more to her and say: "Tell me, I'm listening now." But he did not +turn.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she crept out of the room like a condemned criminal. Too +late, too late. She had spoken too late, and now he did not want to hear +anything more about it, nothing more whatever.</p> + +<p class="normal">In her dull wretchedness the words "too late" hurt her soul as +if they had been branded on it.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had no longer the courage to revert again to what she had +wanted to confess to Wolfgang that night. Besides, what was the good? She had +the vivid feeling that there was no getting at him any more, that he could not +be helped any more. But she felt weighed down as though she had committed a +terrible crime. And the feeling of this great crime made her <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 282]</span> gentler towards him than she would otherwise have been; she felt +called upon to make excuses for his actions both to herself and her husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was very dissatisfied with Wolfgang. "If only I +knew where he's always wandering about. I suppose he's at home at night--eh?"</p> + +<p class="normal">An involuntary sound from his wife had interrupted him, now he +looked at her inquiringly. But she did not change countenance in the slightest, +she only gave an affirmative nod. So the husband relied upon his wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now the last days of autumn had come, which are often so +warm and beautiful, more beautiful than summer. Everybody streamed out into the +Grunewald, to bathe themselves once more in the sun and air ere winter set in. +The people came in crowds to Hundekehle and Paulsborn, to Uncle Tom and the Old +Fisherman's Hut as though it were Sunday every day. There was laughter +everywhere, often music too, and young girls in light dresses, in last summer's +dresses that were not yet quite worn out. Children made less noise in the woods +now than in summer; it grew dark too early now, but there were all the more +couples wandering about, whom the early but still warm dusk gave an excellent +opportunity to exchange caresses, and old people, who wanted to enjoy the sun +once more ere the night perhaps came that is followed by no morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">Formerly Paul Schlieben had always detested leaving his house +and garden on such days, when the Grunewald was overrun with people. He had +always disliked swallowing the dust the crowd raised. But now he was +broader-minded. Why should the people, who were shut up in cramped rooms on all +the other days, not be out there too for once in a way, and inhale the smell of +the pines for some hours, at any rate, which +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 283]</span> they, the privileged ones, enjoyed every +day. It did one good to see how happy people could be.</p> + +<p class="normal">He ordered a carriage, a comfortable landau, both to give +himself a pleasure and also to distract his wife, who seemed to him to be graver +and more lost in thought than ever, and went for a drive with her. They drove +along the well-known roads through the Grunewald, and also got out now and then +when the carriage forced its way more slowly through the sand, and walked beside +it for a bit along the foot-path, which the fallen pine-needles had made smooth +and firm.</p> + +<p class="normal">They came to Schildhorn. The red glow of evening lay across +the water; the sun could no longer be seen in all its splendour, a dusky, +melancholy peace lay over the Havel and the pines. Käte had never thought the +wood was so large. All at once she shivered: ah, the cemetery where they buried +the suicides lay over there. She did not like to look in that direction, she +pressed her eyes together nervously. All at once a young lad moved across her +mental vision--young and fresh and yet ruined already--many a mother's son.</p> + +<p class="normal">She shuddered and wanted to hurry past, and still something +drew her feet irresistibly to the spot in the loose sand that had been enclosed. +She could not help it, she had to stop. Her eyes rested thoughtfully on the +ugly, uncared-for graves: had those who rested there found peace? A couple of +branches covered with leaves and a few flowers that she had plucked on the way +fell out of her hand. The evening wind blew them on to the nearest grave; she +let them lie there. Her heart felt extremely sad.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Käte, do come," Paul called. "The carriage has been waiting +for us quite a long time."</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt very depressed. Fears and suspicions, that she could +not speak of to anybody, crowded upon her. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 284]</span> +Wolfgang was unsteady--but was he bad? No, not bad--not yet. O God, no, she +would not think that! Not bad! But what would happen? How would it end? Things +could never be right again--how could they? A miracle would have to happen then, +and miracles do not happen nowadays.</p> + +<p class="normal">A gay laugh made her start. All the tables were occupied in +the restaurant garden; there were so many young people there and so much +light-heartedness, and so many lovers. They had got into their carriage again +and were now driving slowly past the garden, so they saw all the light-coloured +blouses and the gaily trimmed hats, all the finery of the lower middle-class.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hark, there was that gay laugh again. A girl's loud laugh, a +real hearty one, and now: "Aha, catch her, catch her!" on hearing which Käte +held her breath as though frozen. She felt quite weak, all the blood left her +heart. That was Wolfgang! Her Wolfgang!</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he bounded after a girl who, with a cry of delight, flew +across the road in front of him and into the wood on the other side among the +tree-trunks. He rushed after her. For a moment the girl's light dress and +Wolfgang's flying shadow were seen whisking round the pines, and then nothing +more. But he must have reached her, for her shrill scream and his laugh were +heard; both drove the blood into Käte's cheeks. It sounded so offensive to her, +so vulgar. So he had got so far? He wandered about there with such, +such--persons? Ah, a couple of others were following them, they belonged to the +party, too. A hulking fellow with a very hot and red face and chubby cheeks +followed the couple that had disappeared noisily shouting hallo, and the slender +rascal who came last laughed so knowingly and slyly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Paul, Paul!" Käte wanted to call out, "Paul, just look, +look!" But then she did not call, and did not <span class="pagenum">[Pg 285]</span> +move. There was nothing more to be done. She leant back in her corner of the +carriage quite silent: she had wanted the boy, she must not complain. Oh, if +only she had left him where he was. Now she must be silent, close both her eyes +firmly and pretend she had not seen anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">But everything was spoilt for her. And when her husband +pointed out the moon swimming in the light grey ether in an opening between the +tops of two pines, and the bright, quietly gleaming star to the right of it, she +had only an indifferent "Oh yes," in answer to his delighted: "Isn't that +beautiful?"</p> + +<p class="normal">That depressed him. She had taken such pleasure in nature +formerly, the greatest, purest pleasure--now she no longer did so. Was that over +too? Everything was over. He sighed.</p> + +<p class="normal">And both remained silent, each leaning in a corner of the +carriage. They gazed into the twilight that was growing deeper and deeper with +sad eyes. Evening was coming on, the day--their day too--was over.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had gone on an excursion into the country, with Frida +Lämke, her brother, and Hans Flebbe, which had been planned a long time. Frida +was not going back to business that afternoon; she had succeeded in getting away +as an exception, and because she pleaded an extremely urgent reason for her +absence. And now she was almost beside herself with glee: oh, how splendid it +was, oh, what a fine time they would have. Wolfgang had gone to the expense of +taking a cab; he and Frida sat on the front seat, the two others opposite them +on the back seat, and they had driven round the green, green wood, had paid a +visit to this and that place of amusement, had gone on a roundabout and in a +boat and into the booth where they were playing with dice. Wolfgang <span class="pagenum">[Pg 286]</span> +was very polite, Frida always got leave to throw them again and again; a butter +dish of blue glass, a glazed paper-bag full of gingerbread nuts, but above all a +little dicky-bird in a tiny wooden cage made her extremely happy. Hans was +allowed to carry it all, whilst she and Wolfgang rushed along on the walk home +from Schildhorn, chaffing each other. Her sweetheart did not disturb them. Hans +had foregone the pleasure of having his Frida on his arm from the commencement; +everybody might easily have thought the well-dressed young gentleman was her +lover. But when she lost her breath entirely and was red and dishevelled, and +the dusk, which came on somewhat earlier in the wood among the trees that stood +so close together, made her shudder a little and filled her with a delicious +fear, she hung on her Hans's arm as a matter of course. They remained a little +behind the others.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Wolfgang was alone, for he did not count Artur, although +he walked beside him stumbling over the roots and whistling shrilly. And +Wolfgang envied fat Hans at whom they had all laughed so much, the girl he was +engaged to more than anyone else. He also wanted to have a girl hanging on his +arm. It need not even be such a nice-looking girl as Frida--as long as it was a +girl. The dusk of the wood, which was so nice and quiet, seemed positively to +hold out inviting arms to him. And a smell of satiation, an abundant fulfilment, +rose out of the earth that evening, although it was so poor--nothing but sand. +Wolfgang felt a wish to live and love, an eager desire for pleasure and +enjoyment. If he had had Frida near him now, he would have seized hold of her, +have clasped her in his arms, have quickly closed her mouth with kisses and not +let her go again.</p> + +<p class="normal">He could not contain himself any longer, he had to seize hold +of Artur, at any rate, and waltz with him <span class="pagenum">[Pg 287]</span> +along the sandy path through the wood, so that the lanky youth, who had already +run to so many customers to shave them that day, could neither see nor hear. All +the other people stopped; such sights were nothing new to them on excursions, +not to speak of worse. It amused them, and, when Wolfgang lifted his partner +high up into the air with a loud shout of triumph and swung him several times +round his head, they clapped their hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was very much out of breath by this time. When they +got out of the wood they had to proceed more slowly; they might have trodden +some of the people to death in the more inhabited parts, for the fine villas +were already commencing. What a crowd! People were pushing and squeezing each +other at the place where the electric cars started. Wolfgang and Artur posted +themselves there too: what a joke it was to see how the people who wanted to go +by them elbowed each other. It was still pretty light and as warm as summer, but +it would soon be quite dark, and the later it was the larger the crowd would be. +The two stood there laughing, looking quietly on at the throng. What did it +matter to them if they did not get a seat? They could run that short bit to +their homes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang felt how his heart thumped against his side--it had +been great fun to dance with Frida. He had swung her round several times in the +booth adjoining a restaurant, in which a man sat strumming on a piano, and had +done the same to a couple of other girls, who had looked longingly at the +boisterous dancer. What a pleasure it had been. He still felt the effects of it, +his chest rose and fell tumultuously--oh, what a pleasure it was to swing a girl +round in his arm like that. Wonderful! Everything was wonderful.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang trembled inwardly with untamed animal <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 288]</span> spirits, and clenched his teeth so as not to draw people's +attention to him by means of a loud, triumphant shout. Oh, how splendid it would +be, oh, how he would love to do something foolish now. He thought it over: what +on earth could he do?</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment a cough disturbed him. How hollow it +sounded--as if everything inside were loose. The young fellow who was standing +behind his broad back might have been coughing like that for some time--only he +had not noticed it; now he felt disgusted at his spitting. He stepped aside +involuntarily: faugh, how the man coughed!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, how wretched it is that there isn't a cab to be had!" +Wolfgang now heard the older man say, on whose arm the young fellow who was +coughing was leaning. "Are you quite knocked up? Can you still stand it?" There +was such an anxiety expressed in that: "Can you still stand it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, pretty well," the young fellow answered in a hoarse +voice. Wolfgang pricked up his ears: he surely knew that voice? And now he also +recognised the face. Wasn't that Kullrich? Good gracious, how he had changed. He +raised his hat involuntarily: "Good evening, Kullrich."</p> + +<p class="normal">And now the latter also recognised him. "Schlieben!" Kullrich +smiled, so that all his teeth, which were long and white, could be seen behind +his bloodless lips. And then he held out his hand to his former schoolfellow: +"You aren't at school either? I've left as well. It's a long time since we've +seen each other."</p> + +<p class="normal">The hand Wolfgang held had a disagreeable, moist, cold +feeling, and a shudder passed through him. He had forgotten long ago that he had +once heard that Kullrich had consumption; all at once he remembered it again. +But that was quite impossible, surely you could <span class="pagenum">[Pg 289]</span> +not die so young? Everything in him strove against the conviction.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you been ill?" he asked quickly. "But now you're all +right again, aren't you?" It was quite difficult for him to remember that he was +speaking to his old schoolfellow; this Kullrich was quite a stranger to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh yes, pretty fair," said Kullrich, smiling once more. Quite +a peculiar smile, which even struck the careless youth. Kullrich had never been +nice-looking, he had a lump at the end of his nose; but now Wolfgang could not +take his eyes off him. How much more refined his face had grown and so--he could +not contain himself any longer, all at once he blurted it out: "How different +you look now. I hardly recognised you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My son is soon going away," his father said quickly, drawing +his son's arm more closely through his own as he spoke. "Then I hope he will +come back quite well. But he has tried to do too much to-day. The weather was so +fine--plenty of fresh air and the smell of the pines, the doctor said--but we +have remained out too long. It won't do you any harm, I trust?" There was again +such a terrible anxiety expressed in his voice. "Are you cold? Would you not +like to sit down until we can start?" The father put a camp-stool, which he had +carried under his arm, on the ground, and opened it: "Sit down a little, Fritz."</p> + +<p class="normal">Poor fellow! The father's voice, which trembled with such +loving anxiety, touched Wolfgang strangely. Poor fellow, he really must be very +ill. How terrible! He was overcome with dread, and stepped back involuntarily +for fear the sick boy's breath should reach him. He was full of the egotism of +youth and health; how unfortunate he should meet him there to-day, just to-day.</p> + +<p class="normal">"May I get you a carriage?" he inquired hastily--<span class="pagenum">[Pg +290]</span> only let Kullrich get away, it was too awful to have to listen to +that cough--"I'm acquainted with this neighbourhood; I shall be able to get +one."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh yes, oh yes, a cab, a closed one if possible," said +Kullrich's father, drawing a deep breath as though relieved of a great anxiety. +"We shall not possibly be able to go by train. And it's getting so late. Are you +really not cold, Fritz?" A cool wind had suddenly risen, and the old man took +off his overcoat and hung it round his son's shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">How awful it must be for him to see his son like that, thought +Wolfgang. To die, to die at all, how terrible. And how the man loved his son. +You could hear that in his voice, see it in his looks.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was pleased to be able to run about for a cab. It was +difficult to get one now, and he ran about until he was quite out of breath. At +last he got one. When he reached the place where the electric cars started, Herr +Kullrich was in great despair. He had given up all hope and his son had coughed +a good deal.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not know what to say, he was so grateful. The +unpretentious man--he was a subordinate official in one of the government +offices and probably could not afford it--promised the driver a good tip if he +would only drive them quickly to their home in Berlin. He enveloped his son in +the rug that lay on the back seat; the driver also gave them a horse-cloth, and +Wolfgang wrapped it round his schoolfellow's legs.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thanks, thanks," said Fritz Kullrich faintly; he was quite +knocked up now.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come and see us some time, Herr Schlieben," said the father, +pressing his hand. "Fritz would be pleased. And I am so grateful to you for +helping us."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But come soon," said the son, smiling again in that peculiar +manner. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 291]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Good-bye." Wolfgang stood staring after the carriage as it +disappeared quickly; there drove Kullrich--after his mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang's good spirits had flown. When his companions with +whom he had spent the afternoon sought him with loud hallos--Hans must have +given his Frida many hearty kisses, her hat was awry, her eyes gleamed +amorously--he got rid of them without delay. He said good-bye to them quickly +and went on alone. Death had touched his elbow. And one of the old songs he had +sung with Cilia, the girl from his childhood, suddenly darted through his mind. +Now he understood its deeper meaning for the first time:</p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">Art thou now with fair cheeks prancing,<br> + Cheeks milk-white, through rose-light glancing?<br> + Roses wither soon, alas!</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">He went home at once, he had no wish to loaf about out of +doors any longer. And as he sauntered along with unsteady gait down +out-of-the-way roads, something rose up before him in the dusk of the autumn +evening and placed itself in his path--it was a question:</p> + +<p class="normal">"And you? Where are you going?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He entered his parents' house in a mood that was strangely +soft and conciliatory. But when he stepped into the room, his parents were +sitting there as though to pass sentence on him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had not been able to keep it to herself after all, it had +weighed on her mind, she had to tell somebody what she had seen. And it had +irritated her husband more than his wife had expected. So the boy had got into +such company!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where have you been wandering about?" he said to his son +angrily.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy stopped short: why that voice? It was <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 292]</span> not so late. He raised his head with the feeling that they were +treating him unjustly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't look at me so impudently." His father lost control of +himself. "Where is that woman you were wandering about with?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Wandering about--woman? The hot blood surged to the boy's +head. Frida Lämke a woman--how mad. "She isn't a woman," he flared up. And then: +"I haven't been wandering about."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, come, I've----" the man broke off quickly; he could not +say: "I've seen you"--so he said: "We've seen you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang got very red. Oh!--they had spied on him--no doubt +to-day--had crept after him? He was not even safe from their prying looks so far +away. He was furious. "How can you say 'that woman.' She isn't a woman."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well--what is she then, may I ask?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"My friend."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your friend?" His father gave a short angry laugh. +"Friend--very well, but it's rather early for you to have such a friend. I +forbid you to have friends of such doubtful, such more than doubtful character."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She isn't doubtful." Wolfgang's eyes sparkled. How right Frau +Lämke was when she said the other day to him when he went to see them again: +"Although I'm very pleased to see you, don't come too often, Wolfgang. Frida is +only a poor girl, and such a one gets talked about at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">No, there was nothing doubtful about her. The son looked his +father full in the face, pale with fury. "She's as respectable a girl as any. +How can you speak of her like that? How d----" He faltered, he was in such a +fury that his voice failed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dare--only say it straight out, dare." The man <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 293]</span> had more control over himself now, he had become quieter, for +what he saw in his boy's face seemed to him to be honest indignation. No, he was +not quite ruined yet, he had only been led astray, such women prefer to hang on +to quite young people. And he said persuasively, meaning well: "Get away from +the whole thing as quickly as possible. You'll save yourself much +unpleasantness. I'll help you with it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thanks." The young fellow stuck his hands into his trouser +pockets and stood there with an arrogant expression on his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">His soft mood had disappeared long ago, it had flown as soon +as he took the first step into the room; now he was in the mood not to stand +anything whatever. They had insulted Frida.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where does she live?" his father asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You would like to know that, I daresay." His son laughed +scornfully; it gave him a certain satisfaction to withhold her address, they +were so curious. They should never find it out. It was not at all necessary to +tell them. He threw his head back insolently, and did not answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">O God, what had happened to the boy! Käte stared at him quite +terrified. He had changed completely, had become quite a different being. But +then came the memory--she had loved him so much once--and the pain of knowing +that she had lost him entirely and for ever. "Wolfgang, don't be like that, I +beseech you. You know we have your welfare at heart, Wolfgang."</p> + +<p class="normal">He measured her with an inexplicable look. And then he looked +past her into space.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It would be better if I were out of it all!" he jerked out +suddenly, spontaneously. It was meant to sound defiant, but the defiance was +swallowed up in the sudden recognition of a painful truth.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 294]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">They had agreed that Wolfgang should not live at the villa +with them any longer. True, he was still very young, but the time for +independence had come, his parents realised. Two prettily furnished rooms were +taken in the neighbourhood of the office--Wolfgang was to take a much more +active part in the business now--otherwise he would be left to himself. This +coming home so late at night, this responsible control--no, it would not do for +Käte to worry herself to death. Paul Schlieben had taken this step resignedly.</p> + +<p class="normal">And it seemed as though the days at the Schliebens' villa were +really to be quieter, more peaceful. It was winter, and the snow was such a soft +protecting cover for many a buried hope.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang used to come and visit them, but not too often; +besides, he saw his father every day at the office. It never seemed to enter his +head that his mother would have liked to see him more frequently. She did not +let him perceive it. Was she perhaps to beg him to come more frequently? No, she +had already begged much too much--for many years, almost eighteen years--and she +told herself bitterly that it had been lost labour.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he came to them, they were on quite friendly terms with +each other; his mother still continued to see that his clothes were the best +that could be bought, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 295]</span> his shirts as well +got up as they could be, and that he had fine cambric night shirts and high +collars. That he frequently did not look as he ought to have done was not her +fault; nor was it perhaps the fault of his clothes, but rather on account of his +tired expression, his weary eyes and the indifferent way in which he carried +himself. He let himself go, he looked dissipated.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the husband and wife did not speak about it to each other. +If he could only serve his time as a soldier, thought Paul Schlieben to himself. +He hoped the restraint and the severe regulations in force in the army would +regulate his whole life; what they, his parents, had not been able to effect +with all their care, the drill would be able to do. Wolfgang was to appear +before the commissioners in April. At present, during the winter, he certainly +kept to the office hours more regularly and more conscientiously, but oh, how +wretched he often looked in the morning. Terribly pale, positively ashen. +"Dissipation." The father settled that with a shake of his head, but he said +nothing to his son about it; why should he? An unpleasant scene would be the +only result, which would not lead to anything, and would probably do more harm. +For they no longer met on common ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">And thus things went on without any special disturbance, but +all three suffered nevertheless; the son too.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida thought she noticed that Wolfgang was often depressed. +Sometimes he went to the theatre with her, she was so fond of "something to +laugh at." But he did not join in her laughter, did not even laugh when the +tears rolled down her cheeks with laughing. She could really get very vexed that +lie had so little sense of what was amusing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Aren't you enjoying yourself?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm, moderately."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 296]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you ill?" she asked, quite frightened.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, what's the matter with you then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he shrugged his shoulders and looked so forbidding that +she did not question him any more, but only pressed his hand and assured him she +was amusing herself splendidly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Gradually these invitations to the theatre, which had mostly +ended so pleasantly in a little intimate talk in some café or other, ceased. +Frida saw her friend very rarely at all now; he no longer fetched her from +business, and did not turn up at her home.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who knows?" said Frau Lämke, "perhaps he'll soon get engaged. +He has probably somebody in his mind's eye."</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida pouted. She was put out that Wolfgang never came. What +could be the matter with him? She commenced to spy on him; but not only out of +curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">And somebody else made inquiries about his doings too--that +was his mother. At least, she tried to find out what he was doing. But she only +discovered that he had once been seen in a small theatre with a pretty person, a +blonde, whose hair was done in a very conspicuous manner. Oh, that was the one +at Schildhorn. She still saw that fair hair gleam in the dusk--that was the one +who was doing all the mischief.</p> + +<p class="normal">The mother made inquiries about her son's doings with a +sagacity that would have done credit to a policeman. Had her husband had any +idea of how often--at any time of the day or evening--his wife wandered round +the house where Wolfgang had his rooms, he would have opposed it most +strenuously. Her burning desire to hear from Wolfgang, to know something about +him, made Käte forget her own dignity. When she knew he was absent she had gone +up to his rooms more than <span class="pagenum">[Pg 297]</span> once, nominally +to bring him this or that; but when she found herself alone there--she knew how +to get rid of his garrulous landlady--she would rush about in both his rooms +inspecting everything, would examine the things on his writing-table, even turn +over every bit of paper. She was never conscious of what she was doing as long +as she was there, but on going down the stairs again she felt how she had +humiliated herself; she turned scarlet and felt demeaned in her own eyes, and +promised herself faithfully never, never to do it again. And still she did it +again. It was torture to her, and yet she could not leave it off.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a cold day in winter--already evening, not late +according to Berlin notions, but still time for closing the shops, and the +theatres and concerts had commenced long ago--and Käte was still sitting in her +son's rooms. He had not been to the villa to see her for a week--why not? A +great anxiety had suddenly taken possession of her that day, she had felt +obliged to go to him. Her husband imagined she had gone to see one of +Hauptmann's pieces played for the first time--and she could also go there +later on, for surely Wolfgang must soon come home now. In answer to her letter +of inquiry he had written that he had a cold, and stopped at home in the +evenings. Well, she certainly did not want him to come out to her and catch +fresh cold, but it was surely natural that she should go to see him. She made +excuses to herself.</p> + +<p class="normal">And so she waited and waited. The time passed very slowly. She +had come towards seven o'clock, now it was already nine. She had carefully +inspected both rooms a good many times, had stood at the window looking down +absently at the throng in the streets, had sat down, got up and sat down again. +Now she walked up and down restlessly, anxiously. The +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 298]</span> landlady had already come in several times +and found something to do; her inquisitive scrutinising glances would have +annoyed Käte at any other time, but now she took no notice of them. She could +not make up her mind to go yet--if he were ill why did he not come home? Her +anxiety increased. Something weighed on her mind like a premonition of coming +evil. She would really have to ask the landlady now--it was already ten +o'clock--if he always came home so late in spite of his cold. She rang for the +woman.</p> + +<p class="normal">She came, inwardly much annoyed. Why had Frau Schlieben not +confided in her long ago? Hm, she would have to wait now, the stuck-up person.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose my son always comes home late?" Käte inquired. Her +voice sounded quite calm, she must not let such a woman notice how anxious she +really was.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hm," said the landlady, "sometimes he does, sometimes he +doesn't."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm only surprised that he conies so late as he has a cold."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, has the young gentleman a cold?"</p> + +<p class="normal">What, the woman with whom Wolfgang had lived almost three +months knew so little about him? And she had promised to take such exceedingly +good care of him. "You must give him a hot bottle at night. This room is cold." +Käte shivered and rubbed her hands. "And bring him a glass of hot milk with some +Ems salts in it before he gets up."</p> + +<p class="normal">The landlady heard the reproach in her voice at once, although +nothing further was said, and became still more annoyed. "Hm, if he doesn't come +home at all, I can't give him a hot bottle at night or hot milk in the morning."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What--does not come home at all?" Käte thought <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 299]</span> she could not have understood aright. She stared at the woman. +"Does not come home at all?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman nodded: "I can tell you, ma'am, it's no joke letting +furnished rooms, you have to put up with a good deal. Such a young gentleman--oh +my!" She laughed half-angrily, half-amused. "I once had one who remained away +eight days--it was about the first of the month. I was terrified about my +rent--I had to go to the police."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where was he then? Where was he then?" Käte's voice quivered.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman laughed. "Well, then he turned up again." She saw +the mother's terror, and her good-nature gained the victory over her malice. +"He'll be sure to come again, ma'am," she said consolingly. "They all come +again. Don't fear. And Herr Schlieben has only been two days away as yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">Two days away--two days? It was two days since he had written, +in reply to her letter, that he had a cold and must remain at home. Käte gazed +around her as though she had lost her senses, her eyes looked quite dazed. Where +had he been the whole of those two days? Not there and not at home--oh, he had +not been to see her for a whole week. But he must have been at the office or +Paul would have mentioned it. But where was he all the rest of the time? That +was only a couple of hours. And a day is long. And the nights, the nights! Good +God, the nights, where was he during the nights?</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte would have liked to have screamed aloud, but the landlady +was watching her with such inquisitive eyes, that she pressed the nails of one +hand into the palm of the other and controlled herself. But her voice was +nothing but a whisper now: "Hasn't he been here at all for the last two days?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 300]</span> of a gossip was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. +Drawing near to the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair +forward for herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: +"It was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the +matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite mad."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, +you mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to call +it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in the evening he went away as +usual--well, and then he did not come back again."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And how--how was he?" The mother could only get the words out +in jerks, she could no longer speak connectedly, a sudden terror had overwhelmed +her, almost paralysing her tongue. "Did he--seem strange?" As in a vision his +livid face and the place in the sand near Schildhorn, where the wind was always +blowing, appeared before her many a mother's son, many a mother's son--O God, O +God, if he had made away with himself! She trembled as the leaves do in a storm, +and broke down altogether.</p> + +<p class="normal">The landlady guessed the mother's thoughts instinctively, and +she assured her in a calm good-natured voice: "No, don't imagine that for a +moment. He wasn't sad--and not exactly happy either--well, like--like--well, +just in the right mood."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And--oh, could you not give me a--a hint of--where--where he +might be?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman shook her head doubtfully. "Who could know that? You +see, ma'am, there are so many temptations. But wait a moment." She shut her eyes +tightly and pondered. "Some time ago such a pretty girl used to come here, she +used to fetch him to <span class="pagenum">[Pg 301]</span> go to the theatre, +she said--well, it may have been true. She often came, very often--once a week +at least. She was fair, really a pretty girl."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fair--quite light-coloured hair--a good deal of it and waved +over the ears?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, yes, it was done like that, combed over the ears, a +large knot behind you could not help noticing it, it was so fair. And they were +on very friendly terms with each other."</p> + +<p class="normal">Fair hair--extremely fair. Ah, she had known it at once when +she saw him at Schildhorn with that fair-haired girl. Everything seemed to be +clear to her now. "You--do not know, I suppose--oh, do you happen to know her +name?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He called her Frida."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Frida?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, Frida. I know that for certain. But she does not come +here any more now. But perhaps he's got a letter from her. I'll look, just you +wait." And the woman bent down, drew out the paper-basket from under the +writing-table and began to rummage in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He throws everything into the paper-basket, you see," she +said in an explanatory tone of voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had certainly never sought there. Käte looked on with +staring eyes, whilst the woman turned over every scrap of paper with practised +ringers. All at once she cried out: "There, we've got it." And she placed some +bits of paper triumphantly on the table. "Here's a letter from her. Do you see? +I know the writing. Now we'll see."</p> + +<p class="normal">Laying their heads together the two women tried to piece +together the separate bits of the letter that had been torn up. But they were +not successful, too much was wanting, they could only put a very few sentences +together:</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 302]</span></p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"not come any more--<br> +"angry with me--<br> +"soon come to you some evening--<br> +"always your"</p> +</div> +<p class="normal">But wait, here was the signature. That had not been torn, here +it stood large and connected at the bottom of the sheet of paper:</p> +<div class="quote"> +<p class="continue">"always your"</p> +<p style="margin-left:20%">"FRIDA LÄMKE."</p> +</div> + +<p class="normal">"Frida Lämke?" Käte gave a loud cry of surprise. Frida +Lämke--no, she had never thought that--or were there perhaps two of the same +name? That fair-haired child that used to play in the garden in former years? +Why yes, yes, she had always had bold eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You know her, I suppose?" asked the landlady, her eyes +gleaming with curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not answer. She stared at the carpet in deep thought. +Was this worse--or was it not so bad? Could it not still be hindered now that +she was on the track, or was everything lost? She did not know; her head was no +longer clear enough for her to consider the matter from a sensible point of +view, she could not even think any more. She only had the feeling that she must +go to the Lämkes. Only go there, go there as quickly as possible. Jumping up she +said hastily: "That's all right, quite all right--thanks. Oh, it's all right." +And hastening past the disconcerted woman she hurried to the door and down the +stairs. Somebody happened to unlock the door from outside at that moment; thus +she got out.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now she was in the street. She had never stood in +Friedrichstrasse so quite alone at that time of night before; her husband had +always accompanied her, and if she happened to go to the theatre or a concert +alone <span class="pagenum">[Pg 303]</span> for once in a way, he had always +fetched her himself or made Friedrich fetch her, at any rate. All at once she +was seized with something that resembled fear, although the beautiful street was +as light as day.</p> + +<p class="normal">Such a quantity of men, such a quantity of women. They flowed +past her like a stream, and she was carried with them. Figures surged round her +like waves--rustling dresses that smelt strongly of scent, and gentlemen, men, +young and old, old men and youths, some of whom were hardly more than boys. It +was like a corso there--what were they all seeking? So this was Berlin's +much-talked-of and amusing life at night? It was awful, oh, unspeakably +horrible.</p> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly Käte saw everything from one point of view only. +Hitherto she had been blind, as unsuspicious as a child. A policeman's helmet +came into sight. She flew away as though somebody were in pursuit of her: the +man could not see that she had grey hairs and that she was a lady. Perhaps he, +too, looked upon her as one of those. Let her only get away, away.</p> + +<p class="normal">She threw herself into a cab, she fell rather than got into +it. She gave the driver her address in a trembling voice. A burning longing came +over her all at once: home, only home. Home to her clean, well-regulated house, +to those walls that surrounded her like a shelter. No, he must not come into her +clean house any more, not carry his filth into those rooms.</p> + +<p class="normal">She drove the whole way huddled up in a corner, her trembling +eyelids closed convulsively; the road seemed endless to her to-day. How slowly +the cab drove. Oh, what would Paul say? He would be getting anxious, she was so +late.</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once Käte longed to fly to her husband's arms and find +shelter on his breast. She had quite forgotten she had wanted to go to the +Lämkes straight away. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 304]</span> Besides, how could +she? It was almost midnight, and who knows, perhaps she would only find a mother +there, who was just as unhappy as she? Lost children--alas, one does not know +which is more terrible, a lost son or a lost daughter!</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte cried bitterly. But when the tears stole from under her +closed lids and ran down her cheeks, she became calmer. Now that she no longer +saw the long procession in the street, did not see what went on there every +night, her fear disappeared. Her courage rose again; and as it rose the +knowledge came to her, that she was only a weak and timid woman, but he a robust +youth, who was to be a man, a strong swimmer. There was no need to lose all hope +yet.</p> + +<p class="normal">By the time the first pines in the quiet colony glided past to +the right and left of her and the moonshine showed pure white on their branches, +Käte had made up her mind. She would go to the Lämkes next day and speak to the +mother, and she would not say anything to her husband about it beforehand. The +same fear that now so often made her mute in his presence took possession of her +once more: he would never feel as she felt. He would perhaps seize the boy with +a rough hand, and that must not be. She was still there, and it was her duty to +help the stumbling lad with gentle hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte went up to her husband quite quietly, so calmly that he +did not notice anything. But when she took the road to the Lämkes next day, her +heart trembled and beat as spasmodically as it had done before. She had fought +against her fear and faint-heartedness the whole morning; now it was almost noon +on that account, Paul had told her at breakfast that Wolfgang had not been to +the office the day before and only for quite a short time the preceding day. "I +don't know what's the matter with the boy," he had said. "I'm really <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 305]</span> too angry with him. But I suppose we ought to find out what's +happened to him." "I'll do so," she had answered.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her feet hardly carried her as she slowly crept along, but at +last she almost ran: he had been her child for many, many years, and she shared +the responsibility. She no longer asked herself how she was to begin the +conversation with Frau Lämke, she hoped the right word would be given her when +the time came.</p> + +<p class="normal">So she groped her way down the dark steps to the cellar where +the Lämkes lived, knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for an +answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke was just washing the floor, the brush fell from her +hand and she quickly let down the dress that she had turned up: Frau Schlieben? +What did she want at her house? The pale woman with the innocent-looking face +that had grown so thin gazed at the lady with the utmost astonishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How do you do, Frau Lämke," said Käte, in quite a friendly +voice. "Is your daughter Frida at home? I want to speak to her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, Frida isn't at home." The woman looked still more +perturbed: what did the lady want with Frida? She had never troubled about her +before. "Frida is at business."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Is she? Do you know that for certain?"</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something offensive in her way of questioning, but +Frau Lämke did not notice anything in her innocence. "Frida is never back from +business at this time of day, but she is due in less than half an hour. She has +two hours off at dinner-time; in the evening she does not come in until about +ten, as they only close at nine. But if you would like her to come to you after +her dinner"--Frau Lämke was very curious, what could she want with +Frida?--"she'll be pleased to do so."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 306]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"She'll be here in half an hour, you say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, certainly. She's always in a hurry to come home to her +mother--and she's always hungry too."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I will wait for her if I may," said Käte.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Please sit down." Frau Lämke hastily wiped a chair with her +apron: after all, it was an honour that Wolfgang's mother came to see Frida in +the cellar. And in a voice full of cordial sympathy she said: "How is the young +gentleman? if I may ask. Is he quite well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not answer her: that was really too great an +impertinence, quite an unheard-of impertinence. How could she ask so boldly? But +all at once she was filled with doubt: did she know anything about it? She +looked into her innocent eyes. This woman had probably been deceived as she had +been. She had not the heart to explain matters--poor mother! So she only nodded +and said evasively: "Quite well, thanks."</p> + +<p class="normal">They were silent, both feeling a certain embarrassment. Frau +Lämke peeled the potatoes for dinner and put them on, now and then casting a +furtive look at the lady who sat waiting. Käte was pale and tried to hide her +yawns; her agitation had been followed by a feeling of great exhaustion. For was +she not waiting in vain? And this mother would also wait in vain to-day. The +girl, that hypocrite, was not coming. Käte was seized with something akin to +fury when she thought of the girl's fair hair. That was what had led her boy +astray, that had bewitched him--perhaps he could not throw her off now. "Always +your--your Frida Lämke"--she had sulked in that letter, he had probably wanted +to draw back but--"if you don't come I shall come to you,"--oh, she would no +doubt take care not to let him go, she held him fast.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not believe that Frida Lämke would come <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 307]</span> home. It was getting on for two o'clock. Her mother had lied, +perhaps she was acting in concert with the girl all the time.</p> + +<p class="normal">But now Käte gave a start, a step was heard on the cellar +steps, and on hearing it her mother said, delighted: "That's Frida."</p> + +<p class="normal">Someone hummed a tune outside--then the door opened.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida Lämke was wearing a dark fur toque on her fair hair now, +instead of the little sailor hat; it was imitation fur, but two pigeon wings +were stuck in on one side, and the hat suited her pert little face well.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte was standing in the greatest agitation; she had jumped up +and was looking at the girl with burning eyes. So she had really come. She was +there but Wolfgang, where was he? She quite shouted at the girl as she said: "Do +you know where my son is--Wolfgang--Wolfgang Schlieben?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida's rosy face turned white in her surprise. She wanted to +say something, stammered, hesitated, bit her lips and got scarlet. "How should I +know? I don't know."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You know very well. Don't tell a lie." Käte seized hold of +Frida violently by both her slender arms. She would have liked to catch hold of +her fair hair and scream aloud whilst tearing it out: "My boy! Give me back my +boy!" But she had not the strength to go on shaking her until she had forced her +to confess.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida's blue eyes looked at her quite openly, quite frankly, +even if there seemed to be a slight anxiety in her glance. "I've not seen him +for a long time, ma'am," she said honestly. And then her voice grew softer and +there was a certain anxiety in it: "He used to come here formerly, but he never +does now--does he, mother?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 308]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke shook her head: "No, never." She did not feel at +all at her ease, everything seemed so strange to her: Frau Schlieben in their +cellar, and what did she want with Frida? Something had happened, there was +something wrong. But whatever it was her Frida was innocent, Frau Schlieben must +know that. And so she took courage: "If you think that my Frida has anything to +do with it, ma'am, you're very much mistaken. My Frida has walked out a long +time with Flebbe--Hans Flebbe, the coachman's son, he's a grocer--and besides, +Frida is a respectable girl. What are you thinking about my daughter? But it's +always like that, a girl of our class cannot be respectable, oh no!" The +insulted mother got quite aggressive now. "My Frida was a very good friend of +your Wolfgang, and I am also quite fond of him when I felt so wretched last +summer he sent me fifty marks that I might go to Fangschleuse for three weeks +and get better--but let him try to come here again now, I'll turn him out, the +rascal!" Her pale face grew hot and red in her vague fear that something might +be said against her Frida.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida rushed up to her and threw her arm round her shoulders: +"Oh, don't get angry, mother. You're not to excite yourself, or you'll get that +pain in your stomach again."</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida became quite energetic now. With her arm still round her +mother's shoulders she turned her fair head to Käte: "You'll have to go +somewhere else, ma'am, I can't tell you anything about your son. Mother and I +were speaking quite lately about his never coming here now. And I wrote him a +note the other day, telling him to come and see us--because I had not seen him +for ever so long, and--and--well, because he always liked to be with me. But he +hasn't answered it. <span class="pagenum">[Pg 309]</span> I've certainly not +done anything to him. But he has changed greatly." She put on a knowing look: "I +think it would be better if he still lived at home, ma'am."</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte stared at her. What did she suspect? What did she know? +Did she really know anything? Doubts rose in her mind, and then came the +certainty: this girl was innocent, otherwise she would not have been able to +speak like that. Even the most artful person could not look so ingenuous. And +she had also confessed quite of her own accord that she had lately written to +Wolfgang--no, this girl was not so bad, it must be another one with fair hair. +But where was she to look for her?--where find Wolfgang?</p> + +<p class="normal">And holding out both her hands to the girl as though she were +begging her pardon, she said in a voice full of misery: "But don't you know +anything? Have you no idea whatever where he might be? It was two days yesterday +since he went away--since he disappeared--disappeared entirely, his landlady +does not know where."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Disappeared entirely--two days ago?" Frida opened her eyes +wide.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, I've just told you so. That's why I am asking you. He +has disappeared, quite disappeared."</p> + +<p class="normal">A furious impatience took possession of his mother and at the +same time the full understanding of her painful position. She put her hands +before her face and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke and her daughter exchanged glances full of +compassion. Frida turned pale, then red, it seemed as if she were about to say +something, but she kept silent nevertheless.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But he's not bad, no, he's not bad," whispered Frau Lämke.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who says that he's bad?" Käte started up, letting her hands +fall from before her face. All the <span class="pagenum">[Pg 310]</span> misery +she had endured during those long years and the hopelessness of it all lay in +her voice as she added: "He's been led astray, he has gone astray--he's lost, +lost!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Frida wept aloud. "Oh, don't say that," she cried. "He'll come +back again, he's sure to come back. If only I--" she hesitated and frowned as +she pondered--"knew for certain."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Help me! Oh, can't you help me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke clasped her hands when she heard the poor woman's +cry of "Help me!" and trembled with excitement: how terrible if a mother has to +live to see her child do such things, the child she has brought into the world +with such pain. Forgetting the respect with which she always regarded Käte she +tottered up to her and grasped her cold hand as it hung at her side: "Oh dear, +oh dear, I am so grieved, so terribly grieved. But calm yourself. You know a +mother has still such power, quite special power, her child never forgets her +quite." And she smiled with a certain security.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But he isn't my son--not my own son--I'm not his real +mother." Käte confessed now what she had never confessed before. Her fear +dragged it out of her and the hope that the woman would say: "He won't forget +such a mother either, certainly not."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Frau Lämke did not say it. There was doubt written on her +face and she shook her head. She had not thought of her not being Wolfgang's +real mother at that moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a troubled silence in the room. All that could be +heard was a sound of heavy breathing, until at last Frida broke the paralysing +stillness in her clear voice. "Have you been to see the landlady to-day?" she +asked. Käte shook her head in silence. "Well then, ma'am, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 311]</span> you say it was two days ago yesterday, then he may have come +back to-day. We shall have to make inquiries. Shall I run there quickly?"</p> + +<p class="normal">And she was already at the door, and did not hear her mother +call after her: "Frida, Frida, you must eat a mouthful first, you haven't eaten +any dinner yet," but ran up the cellar steps in her good-natured haste and +compassionate sympathy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte ran after her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But they got no further news in Friedrichstrasse. There were +fires in the rooms, they had been dusted, the breakfast table had even been laid +as if the young gentleman was expected to come any moment--the landlady hoped to +receive special praise for her thoughtfulness--but the young gentleman had not +returned.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Käte Schlieben was ill in bed. The doctor shrugged his +shoulders: there was not much to be done, it was a question of complete apathy. +If only something would happen that would rouse her, something for which it +would repay her to make an effort, she would be all right again. At present he +prescribed strengthening food--her pulse was so bad--every hour a spoonful of +puro, essence of beef, eggs, milk, oysters and such like.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben was sitting near his wife's bed; he had just +come home from town. He was sitting there with bent head and knit brows.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Still nothing about him? What did the woman say--nothing at +all about him?" Käte had just whispered in a feeble voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">His only answer was: "We shall have to communicate with the +police after all now."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, no, not with the police. Should we have him sought as +though he were a criminal? You're terrible, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 312]</span> +Paul. Be quiet, Paul." Her voice that had been so feeble at first had almost +become a scream.</p> + +<p class="normal">He shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing left for us to do +but that," and he looked at her anxiously and then lowered his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to him as though he could not realise the calamity +that had overtaken him, as though it were too great. It was now a week since +Wolfgang had gone away--the misery that fellow had brought on them was terrible, +terrible. But his wife's condition made him still more uneasy. How would it end? +Her increased nervousness was dangerous; and then there was her complete loss of +strength. Käte had never been a robust woman, but now she was getting so thin, +so very thin; the hand that lay so languidly on the coverlet had become quite +transparent during the last week. Oh, and her hair so grey.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man sought for the traces of former beauty in his wife's +face with sad eyes: too many wrinkles, too many lines graven on it, furrows that +the plough of grief had made there. He had to weep; it seemed too hard to see +her like that. Turning his head aside he shaded his eyes with his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">He sat thus in silence without moving, and she did not move +either, but lay as though asleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then somebody knocked. The man glanced at his wife in dismay: +had it disturbed her? But she did not raise her eyelids.</p> + +<p class="normal">He went to the door on tip-toe and opened it. Friedrich +brought the post, all sorts of letters and papers. Paul only held out his hand +to take them from habit, he took so little interest in anything now. During the +first days after Wolfgang's disappearance Käte had always trembled for fear +there should be something about him in the newspaper, she had been tortured <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 313]</span> by the most terrible fears; now she no longer asked. But it was +the man's turn to tremble, although he tried to harden himself: what would they +still have to bear? He never took up a paper without a certain dread.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't rustle the paper so horribly, I can't bear it," said +the feeble woman irritably. Then he got up to creep out of the room--it was +better he went, she did not like him near her. But his glance fell on one of the +letters. Whose unformed, copy-book handwriting was that? Probably a begging +letter. It was addressed to his wife, but she did not open any letters at +present; and he positively longed to open just that letter. It was not +curiosity, he felt as if he must do it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He opened the letter more quickly than he was in the habit of +doing. A woman had written it, no doubt a girl the letters were carefully +formed, with no character in them. And the person had evidently endeavoured to +disguise her writing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If you wish to find out anything about your son, you must go +to 140, Puttkammerstrasse, and watch the third storey in the back building, left +side wing, where 'Knappe' is written above the bell. There she lives."</p> + +<p class="normal">No name had been signed underneath it; "A Good Friend" was all +that was written below.</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had a feeling as if the paper were burning his +fingers--common paper, but pink and smelling of cheap perfumed soap--an +anonymous letter, faugh! What had this trash to do with them? He was about to +crumple it up when Käte's voice called to him from the bed: "What have you got +there, Paul? A letter? Show me it."</p> + +<p class="normal">And as he approached her, but only slowly, hesitatingly, she +raised herself up and tore the letter out of his <span class="pagenum">[Pg 314]</span> +hand. She read it and cried out in a loud voice: "Frida Lämke has written that. +I'm sure it's from her. She was going to look for him--and her brother and the +man she's engaged to--they will have found him. Puttkammerstrasse--where is +that? 140, we shall have to go there. Immediately, without delay. Ring for the +maid. My shoes, my things--oh, I can't find anything. For goodness' sake do +ring. She must do my hair--oh, never mind, I can do it all myself."</p> + +<p class="normal">She had jumped out of bed in trembling haste; she was sitting +in front of her dressing-table now, combing her long hair herself. It was +tangled from lying in bed, but she combed it through with merciless haste.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If only we don't arrive too late. We shall have to make +haste. He's sure to be there, quite sure to be there. Why do you stand there +looking at me like that? Do get ready. I shall be ready directly, we shall be +able to go directly. Paul, dear Paul, we are sure to find him there--oh God!" +She threw out her arms, her weakness made her dizzy, but her will conquered the +weakness. Now she stood quite firmly on her feet.</p> + +<p class="normal">Nobody would have believed that she had just been lying in her +bed perfectly helpless. Her husband had not the courage to oppose her wishes, +besides, how could things be worse than they were? They could never be worse +than they were, and at all events she would never be able to reproach him any +more that he had not loved the boy.</p> + +<p class="normal">When, barely half an hour later, they got into the carriage +Friedrich had telephoned for, she was less pale than, and did not look so old +as, he.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 315]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Whenever Frida Lämke met Wolfgang Schlieben now, she cast down +her eyes and he pretended not to see her. He was angry with her: the confounded +little minx to betray him. She was the only one who could have put his parents +on his track. How should they otherwise have ever guessed it? He could have +kicked himself for having once given that viper hints about his acquaintance in +Puttkammerstrasse. Frida and her friendship, just let her try to talk to him +again about friendship. Pooh, women on the whole were not worth anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">A fierce contempt for women had taken possession of the young +fellow. He would have liked to spit in their faces--all venal creatures--he knew +quite enough about them now, ay, and loathed them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The boy, who was not yet nineteen, felt tired and old; +strangely tired. When Wolfgang thought of the time that had just passed, it +seemed to him like a dream; now that the rooms in Friedrichstrasse had been +given up and he was living with his parents again, even like a bad dream. And +when he met Frida Lämke--that could not be avoided as he drove to and fro +regularly in office hours now--he felt a bitter pang every time. He did not even +say how do you do to her, he could not bring himself to say even that.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 316]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">If only he could throw of! the oppression that weighed him +down. They were not unkind to him--no, they were even very good--but still he +had always the feeling that they only tolerated him. That irritated him and made +him sad at the same time. They had not reproached him, would probably not do so +either, but his father was always grave, reserved, and his mother's glance had +something that simply tortured him. He was filled with a morbid distrust: why +did they not tell him straight out they despised him?</p> + +<p class="normal">Something that was almost remorse troubled him during the +nights when he could not sleep. At such times his heart would throb, positively +flutter, he had to sit up in bed--he could not bear to lie down--and fight for +breath. Then he stared into the dark, his eyes distended with terror. Oh, what a +horrible condition that was. In the morning when the attack was over--this +"moral sickness"--as he used to call it scornfully--he was vexed at his +sentimentality. What wrong had he done? Nothing different from what hundreds of +other young fellows do, only they were not so idiotic as he. That Frida, that +confounded gossip. He would have liked to wring her neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">After those bad nights Wolfgang was still more unamiable, more +taciturn, more sulky, more reserved than ever. And he looked more wretched.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's run down," said Paul Schlieben to himself. He did not +say so to his wife--why agitate her still more?--for he could see that she was +uneasy from the way she took care of him. She did not make use of words or of +caresses--those days were over--but she paid special attention to his food; he +was positively pampered. A man of his age ought to be much stronger. His back no +longer seemed to be so broad, his chest was less arched, his black eyes lay deep +in their sockets and had dark <span class="pagenum">[Pg 317]</span> +lines under them. He held himself badly and he was always in very bad spirits. +His spirits, yes, his spirits, those were at the root of all the evil, but no +care could alter them and no medicine. The young fellow was dissatisfied with +himself, that was it, and was it any wonder? He felt ashamed of himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the situation in which he had found him rose up before his +father's mental vision with terrible distinctness.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had let his wife wait downstairs for him--true, she had +made a point of going up with him, but he had insisted on her staying down in +the court-yard, that narrow, dark yard which smelt of fustiness and dust--he had +gone up alone. Three flights of stairs. They had seemed terribly steep to him, +his knees had never felt so tired before when mounting any stairs. There was the +name "Knappe." He had touched the bell--ugh, what a start he had given when he +heard the shrill peal. What did he really want there? As the result of an +anonymous letter he, Paul Schlieben, was forcing his way in on strange people, +into a strange house? The blood surged to his head--and at that moment the +person opened the door in a light blue dressing-gown, no longer young, but +buxom, and with good-natured eyes. And by the gleam of a miserable kitchen lamp, +which lighted up the pitch-dark passage even at noon, he had seen a smart +top-coat and a fine felt hat hanging in the entrance, and had recognised +Wolfgang's things. So he was really there? There? So the anonymous letter had +not lied after all.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not know exactly what he had done after that; he only +knew he had got rid of some money. And then he had led the young man down the +stairs by the arm--that is to say, dragged him more than led him. Käte had met +them halfway. She had found the time too long downstairs, open-mouthed children +had gathered <span class="pagenum">[Pg 318]</span> round her, and women had +watched her from the windows. She was almost in despair: why did Paul remain +upstairs such a terribly long time? She had had no idea, of course, that he had +first to wake his son out of a leaden sleep in an untidy bed. And she must +never, never know.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now they had got him home again, but was it a pleasure? To +that Paul Schlieben had to give a curt "no" as answer, even if he had felt ever +so disposed to forgive, ever so placable. No joy came to them from that quarter +now. Perhaps they might have some later, much later. For the time being it would +be best for the young man to serve his time as a soldier.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was to present himself on the first of April. +Schlieben pinned his last hope to that.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang had always wished to serve with the Rathenow Hussars, +but after their last experiences his father deemed it more advisable to let him +join the more sedate infantry.</p> + +<p class="normal">Formerly Wolfgang would have opposed this plan very +strenuously--in any case it must be cavalry--now it did not enter his head to do +so. If he had to serve as a soldier, it was quite immaterial to him where; he +was dead tired. His only wish was to sleep his fill for once. Kullrich was +dead--his sorrowing father had sent him the announcement from Görbersdorf +towards Christmas--and he? He had wasted too many nights in dissipation.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a blow to Paul Schlieben that Wolfgang was not accepted +as a soldier. "Disqualified"--a hard word--and why disqualified?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Serious organic defect of the heart"--his parents read it +with eyes that thought they had made a mistake and that still read correctly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was very exhausted when he came home <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 319]</span> after the examination, but he did not seem to mind much that he +was disqualified. He did not show it--but was he not, all the same?</p> + +<p class="normal">The doctor tried to put everything in as favourable a light as +he could after he, too, had examined him. "Defect of the heart, good gracious, +defect of the heart, there isn't a single person who has a perfectly normal +heart. If you take a little care of yourself, Wolfgang, and live a regular life, +you can grow to be a very old man with it."</p> + +<p class="normal">The young fellow did not say a word.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Schliebens overwhelmed their doctor with reproaches. Why +had he not told them it long ago? He must surely have known. Why had he left +them in such ignorance?</p> + +<p class="normal">Dr. Hofmann defended himself: had he not again and again +exhorted them to be careful? He had been anxious about the boy's heart ever +since he had had scarlet fever, and had not concealed his fears. All the same, +he had not thought matters would get worse so quickly. The boy had lived too gay +a life.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Serious organic defect of the heart"--that was like a +sentence of death. Wolfgang laid down his arms. All at once he felt he had no +longer the strength to fight against those attacks in the night. What he had +fought out all alone in his bed, even without lighting his candle, before he +knew that, now drove him to his feet. It drove him to the window--he tore it +open--drove him round the room, until he at last, completely exhausted, found +rest in the arm-chair. It drove him even to knock at his parents' door: "Are you +asleep? I am so frightened. Sit up with me."</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">They had had bad nights for weeks. Wolfgang had suffered and +his mother with him. How could she sleep <span class="pagenum">[Pg 320]</span> +when she knew that somebody in the next room was in torture?</p> + +<p class="normal">Now he was better again. Their old friend's medicines had had +a good effect, and Wolfgang had gone through a regular cure: baths, friction, +massage, special diet. Now they could be quite satisfied with the result. It was +especially the strictly regular life that had done him good; his weight had +increased, his eyes were brighter, his complexion fresher. They were all full of +hope--all except one. That one had no wish to live any longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">The month of April was raw and stormy, quite exceptionally +cold. It was impossible for the convalescent to be as much in the open air as +was desirable, especially as any exercise that would warm him, such as tennis, +cycling, riding, was still too tiring for him. The doctor proposed to send him +to the Riviera. Even if there were only a few weeks left before it would be too +hot there, that would suffice.</p> + +<p class="normal">His father was at once willing for the young fellow to go. If +it would do him good of course he must go. Käte offered to accompany him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But why, my dear lady? The youngster can quite well go +alone," the doctor assured her.</p> + +<p class="normal">However, she insisted on it, she would go with him. It was not +because she still feared she might lose him; it was her duty to do so, she must +accompany him even if she had not wished to. And at the same time a faint desire +began to stir in her, too, unknown to herself. She was so well acquainted with +the south--should they go to Sestri, for example? She looked inquiringly at her +husband. Had they not once spent some perfectly delightful days on the coast +near Spezia? There, near the blue sea, where the large stone pines are greener +and give more shade than the palms further south, where there is something crisp +and refreshing in the air <span class="pagenum">[Pg 321]</span> in spite of its +mildness, where there is nothing relaxing in the climate but everything is +vivifying.</p> + +<p class="normal">He smiled; of course they could go there. He was so pleased +that his wife's enthusiasm was not quite a thing of the past.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang rummaged about in his room for a long time on the +afternoon before their departure. Käte, who feared he might exert himself too +much whilst packing, had sent Friedrich to assist him. But the latter soon came +downstairs again: "The young gentleman wishes to do it alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">When Wolfgang had put the last things into his trunk he looked +round his room thoughtfully. He had grown up there, he had so often looked upon +the room as a cage, would he ever return to it?</p> + +<p class="normal"><i> +Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.</i></p> + +<p class="normal">The text he had received at his confirmation hung on the wall +opposite him in a beautiful frame. He had not read it for a long time. Now he +read it again, smiling slightly, a little scornfully and a little sadly. Yes, he +would flutter back into it. He had got used to the cage.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now he resolved to do something more as the very last +thing--to go to Frida.</p> + +<p class="normal">Frau Lämke was speechless with astonishment, almost +frightened, when she saw young Heir Schlieben step into her room about the time +her Frida generally came home. She stammered with embarrassment: "No, Frida +isn't at home yet--and Artur isn't either--and father is up in the lodge--but if +you will put up with my company until--until--they come"--she pushed him a chair +with a good deal of noise.</p> + +<p class="normal">He drew his chair close to the table at which she had been +sewing. Now he was sitting where he used to sit. And he remembered his first +invitation to the Lämkes' <span class="pagenum">[Pg 322]</span> quite +distinctly--it had been Frida's tenth birthday--he had sat there with the +children, and the coffee and the cakes had tasted so excellent.</p> + +<p class="normal">And a host of other memories came back to him--nothing but +pleasant memories--but still he and Frau Lämke did not seem able to start a +proper conversation. Did he feel oppressed at the thought of meeting Frida +again? Or what made him so restless there? Yes, that was it, he did not feel at +home there now.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was something sad in his voice when he said to Frau +Lämke as he held out his hand to her on leaving: "Well--good-bye."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I hope you'll have a real good time--good bye for the +present."</p> + +<p class="normal">He nodded in reply and shook her hand once more, and then he +went. He preferred to go and meet Frida, that was better than sitting in that +room. His heart was throbbing. Then he saw her coming towards him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Although it was dark and the street lamps not so good as in +the town, he recognised her already far off. She was wearing the same sailor hat +with the blue band she had had the summer before; it was certainly rather early +in the year, but it suited her--so fresh and springlike.</p> + +<p class="normal">A feeling surged up in Wolfgang, as she stood before him, that +he had never known in the presence of any woman: a brotherly feeling of great +tenderness.</p> + +<p class="normal">He greeted her in silence, but she said in a glad voice: "Oh, +is it you, Wolfgang?" and held out her hand to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He strolled along beside her as he had done before; she had +slackened her pace involuntarily. She did not know exactly on what footing they +were with each other, but still she thought she could feel that he was no longer +angry.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 323]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"We are going away to-morrow," he said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I never! Where?"</p> + +<p class="normal">And he told her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She interrupted him in the middle. "Are you angry with me?" +she asked in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">He shook his head in the negative, but he did not say anything +further about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">All she had intended saying to him, that she had not been able +to do anything else, that Hans had found him out, that she had promised his +mother and that she herself had been so extremely anxious about him, remained +unsaid. It was not necessary. It was as if the past were dead and buried now, as +if he had entirely forgotten it.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he told the girl, who was listening with much interest, +about the Riviera where he was going, something like a new pleasure in life +seemed to creep into his heart again. Oh, all he wanted was to get away from his +present surroundings. When he got to the Riviera everything would be better. He +had not got an exact impression of what it would be like there; he had only half +listened, no, he had not listened at all when his mother told him about the +south, it had all been so immaterial to him. Now he felt himself that it was a +good thing to take an interest in things again. He drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you going to send me a pretty picture post-card from +there, too?" she asked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course, many." And then he laid his arm round her narrow +shoulders and drew her towards him. And she let him draw her.</p> + +<p class="normal">They stood in the public street, where the bushes that grew on +both sides of it were already in bud and the elder was swelling with the first +sap, and clung to each other.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 324]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Come back quite well," she sobbed.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he kissed her tenderly on her cheek: "Frida, I really have +to thank you."</p> + +<p class="normal">When Frida went to business next morning--it was half past +seven--she said to her mother: "Now he's gone," and she remained thoughtful the +whole day. She had not spoken to Wolfgang for many weeks and she had not minded +it at all during the time but since the evening before she had felt sad. She had +thought much of him, she could not forget him at all.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 325]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Käte was alone with her son. Now she had him all to herself. +What she had striven for jealously before had now been given to her. Not even +nature that looked in at the windows with such alluring eyes could attract him. +It surprised her--nay, it almost saddened her now--that he did not show more +interest. They travelled through Switzerland--he saw it for the first time--but +those high mountains, whose summits were lost in the snow and the clouds and +that moved her to tears of adoring admiration the first time she saw them, +hardly wrung a glance from him. Now and then he looked out of the carriage +window, but he mostly leant back in his corner reading, or dreaming with open +eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you tired?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No," he said; nothing but "no," but without the surly +abruptness which had been peculiar to him. His tone was no longer unpleasant and +repellent.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte looked at her son with anxious eyes: was the journey +tiring him? It was fortunate that she was with him. It seemed to her that she +was indispensable, and a feeling of heartfelt satisfaction made her insensible +to the fatigue of the long journey.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was not much interested in the cathedral at Milan. +"Yes, grand," he said when she grew enthusiastic about the marvellous structure. +But he <span class="pagenum">[Pg 326]</span> would not go up to the platform +with her, from which they would have a magnificent view all round as far as the +distant Alps, as the weather was so clear. "You go alone, leave me here."</p> + +<p class="normal">At first it seemed ridiculous to her that she, the old woman, +should go up whilst he, the young man, remained below. But at last she could not +resist the desire to see all those marvellous things again that she had already +once enjoyed. She took a ticket for the platform, and he opened one of the camp +stools that stand about in the enormous empty cathedral and sat down, his back +against a marble pillar.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, it was nice to rest here. After the market outside, with +its noise and the buzzing of voices and all the gaudy colours, he found a +twilight here filled with the perfume of incense. It did not disturb him that +doors opened and closed, that people came in and out in crowds. That here a +guide gave the visitors the information he had learnt by heart, drawling it +quite loudly in a cracked voice without heeding that he meanwhile almost +stumbled over the feet of those who were kneeling on low benches, confessing +their sins in a whisper to a priest seated there. That there someone was +celebrating mass--the priests were curtsying and ringing their bells--whilst +here a cook chattered to a friend of hers, the fowls that were tied together by +their legs lying beside her.</p> + +<p class="normal">All that did not disturb him, he did not notice it even. The +delicious twilight filled his senses, he was so sleepy, felt such a blessed +fatigue. All the saints smiled before his closing eyes, sweet Marys and chubby +little angels resembling cupids. He felt at his ease there. Milan Cathedral, +that wonder of the world, lost its embarrassing grandeur; the wide walls moved +together, became narrow and home-like, and still they <span class="pagenum">[Pg +327]</span> enfolded the world a peaceful world in which sinners kneel down and +rise again pure. Wolfgang was seized with a great longing to kneel down there +also. Oh, there it was again, the longing he had had in his boyhood. How he had +loved the church their maid Cilia had taken him to. He still loved it, he loved +it anew, he loved it now with a more ardent love than in those days. He felt at +home in this church, he had the warm feeling of belonging to it. <i>Qui vivis et +regnas in sæcula sæculorum.</i> The golden monstrance gleamed as it was raised +on high, those who were praying bowed low, blissful harmonies floated under the +high arched dome, ever more and more beautiful--more and more softly. His +eyelids closed.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he saw Cilia--as fresh, as beautiful as life itself. Oh, +how very beautiful. Surely she had not looked like that before? He knew that he +was dreaming, but he was not able to shake off the dream. And she came quite +close to him--oh, so close. And she made the sign of the cross--over him the +organ played softly--hark, what was she saying, what was she whispering above +him? He wanted to seize hold of her hand, question her, then he heard another +voice:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang, are you asleep?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte had laid her hand lightly on his hands, which were folded +on his knees. "I suppose I was a long time up there? You have felt bored?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh no, no." He said it enthusiastically.</p> + +<p class="normal">They went out of the cathedral together, whilst the organ +sounded behind them until they reached the market-place. Käte was in ecstasies +about the view she had had, so did not notice the mysterious radiance in +Wolfgang's eyes. He was quiet, and seemed to agree to everything.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 328]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">His manner began to cause his mother some uneasiness. What +would have made her happy before--oh, how she had longed for a more docile child +in bygone days!--saddened her now. Was he, after all, worse than they had any +idea of?</p> + +<p class="normal">They had now reached the coast, had got to Sestri. Those were +the same stone pines under which she had sat and painted as a younger woman +eighteen years ago. But another hotel had come into existence since then, quite +a German hotel, German landlord, German waiters, German food, German society, +all the comfort the Germans like. Käte had wanted to live a retired life, to +devote herself to Wolfgang; but now she felt she needed a chat with this one or +that one at times, for even if she and Wolfgang were together, she felt alone +all the same. What was he thinking of? His brow and his eyes showed that he was +thinking of something, but he did not express his thoughts. Was he +low-spirited--bright? Happy--sad? Were there many things he repented of and did +he ponder over them, or did he feel bored here? She did not know.</p> + +<p class="normal">He kept away from everybody else with a certain obstinacy. It +was in vain that Käte encouraged him to play tennis with young girls who were on +the look-out for a partner; if he did not overdo it he might certainly try to +play. He was also invited to go out sailing, but he did not seem to care for +that sport any longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang lay right out on the mole for the most part, against +the rocky point of which the blue sea flings itself restlessly until it is a +mass of white foam, and looked across at the coast near San Remo swimming in a +ruddy violet vapour or back at the naked heights of the Apennines, in whose +semi-circle the white and red houses of Sestri nestle.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the fishing boats glided into the harbour with <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 329]</span> slack sails like weary birds, he got up and sauntered along to +meet them at the landing-place. Then he would stand there with his hands in his +trouser pockets, to see what fish they brought ashore. The catches were not +large. Then he took his hands out of his pockets and gave the fishermen what +money he had with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">If his mother had known what her son was thinking of! If she +had guessed that his soul flew away with weary wings like a gull drifting over a +boundless sea!</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang was suffering from home-sickness. He did not like +being there. Everything was much too soft, much too beautiful there; he felt +bored. The stone pines with their pungent smell were the only things he liked; +they were even better than the pines in the Grunewald. But he was not really +longing for the Grunewald either. It was always the same, whether he was here or +there he was always racked with longing. For what? For what place? That was what +he pondered over. But he would not have liked to say it to his mother, for he +saw now that she did all she could for him. And he found an affectionate word to +say to her more frequently than he had ever done before in his life.</p> + +<p class="normal">So at last, at last I Käte often gave him a covert +side-glance: was this the same boy who had resisted her so defiantly as a child, +had refused her love, all her great love? This boy whose face had moved her so +strangely in Milan Cathedral, was he the same who had lain on the doorstep +drunk?--ugh, so drunk! The same who had sunk, sunk so low, that he--oh, she +would not think of it any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte wanted to forget; she honestly tried to do so. When she +found him in the cathedral sitting near the pillar, his hands folded, his +eyelids closed dreamily, he had seemed to her so young, still touchingly young; +his forehead had been smooth, as though all the lines on it <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 330]</span> had been wiped away. And she had to think: had they not expected +too much of him? Had they always been just to him? Had they understood him as +they ought to have understood him? Doubts arose in her mind. She had always +deemed herself a good mother; since that day in the cathedral she felt as though +she had failed in something. She herself could not say in what. But sadness and +a large amount of self-torturing pain were mingled with the satisfaction that +her son had now come to her. Ah, now he was good, now he was at least something +like what she had wished him to be--softer, more tractable--but now--what +pleasure had she from it now?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang still causes me uneasiness," she wrote to her +husband. "It's beautiful here, but he does not see it. I am often frightened."</p> + +<p class="normal">When her husband had offered to go with them he had done so +because he wished to save her in many ways--Käte had opposed it almost +anxiously: no, no, it was not at all necessary. She would much prefer to be +alone with Wolfgang, she considered it so much more beneficial both for him and +for herself. But now she often thought of her husband, and wrote to him almost +every day. And even if it were only a few lines on a postcard, she felt the need +of sending him a word. He, yes he would find it just as beautiful there as she +found it. As they had both found it in the old days. They had once climbed that +path over the rocks together, he had given her his hand, had led her so that she +should not feel dizzy, and she had eyed the blue glassy sea far below her and +far above her the grey rocky promontory with the deep green stone pines that +kissed the blue of the sky with a blissful shudder. Had she grown so old in +those eighteen years that she dared not go along that path any more? She had +tried but it was of no use, she had been <span class="pagenum">[Pg 331]</span> +seized with a sudden dizziness. That was because the hand was not there that had +supported her so firmly, so securely. Oh yes, those had been better days, +happier.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte entirely forgot that she had coveted something so +ardently in those days, that she had saddened many an hour for herself and him, +embittered every enjoyment. Now she looked past the son who was strolling along +by her side, looked into the distance with tender eyes in which a gleam of her +lost youth still shone--her good husband, he was so alone. Did he think of her +as she of him?</p> + +<p class="normal">That evening when Wolfgang had retired to his room--what he +did there, whether he still sat up reading or writing or had already gone to bed +she did not know--she wrote to her husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not the length and the full particulars she gave in the +letter that pleased Paul Schlieben so much--she had also written long detailed +letters to him from Franzensbad at the time--but he read something between the +lines. It was an unexpressed wish, a longing, a craving for him. And he resolved +to go to the south. After all, they had lived so many years together, that it +was quite comprehensible that the one felt lonely without the other.</p> + +<p class="normal">He settled the business he had in hand with energetic +eagerness. He hoped to be ready to start in a week at the latest. But he would +not write to her beforehand, would not write anything whatever about it, it was +to be a surprise for once in a way.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The midday sun at Sestri was hot, but in spite of its gleaming +power the air became agreeable and refreshing just a little before sunset. A +sweet odour poured forth from every plant then, and this streaming wealth of +perfume was so soothing, so delicious. Käte felt her <span class="pagenum">[Pg +332]</span> +heart overflow. Thank God, she was still not quite exhausted, not quite worn-out +yet, she still possessed the faculty of enjoying what was beautiful. If Paul had +only been there.</p> + +<p class="normal">High up, quite at the edge of the outermost promontory on that +coast and surrounded by the white foam of the ardent sea that longs to climb up +to the cypresses and pines, the holm-oaks and the strawberry-trees, the many +sweet-smelling roses, lies the garden of a rich marchese. The mother and her son +were sitting there. They were looking in silence at the gigantic sun, which hung +red, deep purple just above the sea that, quiet and devout, solemn and expectant +in the holy conception of the light, shone with the splendid reflection of it. +It was one of those hours, those marvellous rare hours in which even mute things +become eloquent, when the hidden becomes revealed, the stones cry aloud.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman felt quite startled as she gazed and gazed: oh, +there it was, the same gigantic red sun that she had once seen disappear into +the waves of the wild Venn.</p> + +<p class="normal">Alas, that that thought should come even now and torture her. +She turned quickly and looked at Wolfgang with timid apprehension--if he should +guess it. But he was sitting on a stone, taking no interest in his surroundings; +he had crossed his legs and his eyes were half closed. Of what was he dreaming? +She had to rouse him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Isn't that splendid, grand, sublime?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh yes."</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's setting--look how it's setting." Käte had jumped up from +the ivy-clad pine-stump and was pointing at it. Her cheeks were flushed and she +was full of enthusiasm at the sight of the purple sea, the radiant light that +was disappearing in such splendour. The tears came to her eyes; they were +dazzled. When <span class="pagenum">[Pg 333]</span> she looked again it struck +her that Wolfgang was very pale.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you cold?" A sudden coolness blew from the sea.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No. But I"--suddenly he opened his dark eyes wide and looked +at her firmly--"I should like to know something about my mother. Now you can +speak--I'm listening."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of your--your"--she stammered, it came so unexpectedly. Alas, +the sun, the Venn sun. She would have preferred to have been silent now; now she +had not the courage she had had before.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he urged her. "Tell me." There was something imperious in +his voice. "What is her name?--Where does she live?--Is she still alive?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte looked around with terrified eyes. "Is she still +alive?"--she could not even answer that. Oh yes, yes, surely--of course--she was +still alive.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she told him all. Told him how they had got him away from +the Venn, had fled with him as though he had been stolen.</p> + +<p class="normal">As she told him it she turned pale and then red and then pale +again--oh, what a passion he would fly into. How he would excite himself. And +how angry he would be with her. For they had never troubled about his mother +since they left the Venn, never again. She could not tell him any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not ask any other questions. But he did not fly into a +passion as she had feared; she need not have defended her action when he +remained silent for some time, positively make excuses for it. He gave her a +friendly glance and only said: "You meant well, I feel sure of that."</p> + +<p class="normal">As they went down the steps leading from the park to the town +he offered her his arm. He led her, to all <span class="pagenum">[Pg 334]</span> +appearances, but still she had the feeling as if he were the one who needed a +support--he tottered.</p> + +<p class="normal">The cemetery at Sestri lies behind the marchese's garden. The +white marble monuments gleamed through the grey of evening; the white wings of +an enormous angel rose just above the wall that encircles the park. Käte looked +back: did not something like a presentiment seem to be wafted to them from +there--or was it a hope? She did not know whether Wolfgang felt as she did or +whether he felt anything, but she pressed his arm more closely and he pressed +hers slightly in return.</p> + +<p class="normal">She heard him walking restlessly up and down his room during +the night that followed the evening they had spent in the garden of Villa Piuma. +She had really made up her mind to leave him alone--she had looked after him +much too much formerly--but then she thought he was still a patient, and that +the agitation he must have felt on hearing her story might be injurious to him. +She wanted to go to him, but found his door locked. He only opened it after she +had repeatedly knocked and implored him to let her come in.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you want?" There was again something of the old +repellent sound in his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she would not allow herself to be deterred. "I thought you +might perhaps like to--well, talk a little more about it," she said tenderly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What am I to do?" he cried, and he wrung his hands and +started to stride restlessly up and down the room again. "If only somebody would +tell me what I'm to do now. But nobody knows. Nobody can know. What am I to +do--what am I to do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte stood there dismayed: oh, now he had such thoughts. She +saw it, he had wept. She clung to him full of grieved sympathy. She did what she +had not done for a long time, for an exceedingly long time, <span class="pagenum">[Pg 335]</span> she +kissed him. And shaken in the depths of her being by his "What am I to do?" as +by a just reproach, she said contritely: "Don't torture yourself. Don't fret. If +you like we'll go there--we'll look for her--we shall no doubt find her."</p> + +<p class="normal">But he shook his head vehemently and groaned. "That's too late +now--much too late. What am I to do there now? I am no use for that or for +this"--he threw out his hands--"no use for anything. Mother, mother!" Throwing +both his arms round the woman he fell down heavily in front of her and pressed +his face against her dress.</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt he was sobbing by the convulsive movement of his +body, by the tight grasp of his hot hands round her waist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If only I knew--my mother--mother--oh, mother, what am I to +do?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He wept aloud, and she wept with him in compassionate +sympathy. If only Paul had been there. She could not find any comforting words +to say to him, she felt so deserving of blame herself, she believed there was no +longer any comfort to be found. Before her eyes stood the <i>one</i> +agonising, torturing question: "How is it to end?" engraved in large letters, +like the inscriptions over cemetery gates.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Käte took counsel with herself: should she write to her +husband "Come"? Wolfgang was certainly not well again. He did not complain, he +only said he could not sleep at night and that made him so tired. She did not +know whether it was moral suffering that deprived him of his sleep or physical. +She was in great trouble, but she still put off the letter to her husband. Why +should she make him hasten to them, take that long journey? It would not be of +any use. It was still not <span class="pagenum">[Pg 336]</span> clear to her that she wanted him for +herself, for her own sake. She even omitted writing to him for a few days.</p> + +<p class="normal">Wolfgang lay a great deal on the couch in his room with the +shutters closed; he did not even read. She often went in to keep him company--he +must not feel lonely--but it seemed almost as though he were just as pleased to +be alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">When she looked at him furtively over the top of her book in +the semi-obscurity of the room, she could not think he was so ill. It was +probably a disinclination to do anything more than anything else--a slackness of +will-power that made him so apathetic also physically. If only she could rouse +him. She proposed all manner of things, drives along the coast to all the +beautifully situated places in the neighbourhood, excursions into the +mountains--they were so near the highest summits in the Alps, and it was +indescribably beautiful to look down into the fruitful valleys of the <i>cinque +terre</i> that were full of vineyards--sails in the gulf, during which the boat +carries you so smoothly under the regular strokes of practised boatmen, that you +hardly notice the distance from the shore and still are very soon swimming far +out on the open sea, on that heavenly clear, blue sea, whose breath liberates +the soul. Did he want to fish--there were such exquisite little gaily-coloured +fish there, that are so stupid and greedy they grab at every bait--would he not +shoot ospreys as well? She positively worried him.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he always gave her an evasive reply; he did not want to. +"I'm really too tired to-day."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she sent for the Italian doctor. But Wolfgang was angry: +what did he want with that quack? He was so disagreeable to the old man that +Käte felt quite ashamed of him. Then she left him alone. Why should she try to +show him kindness if he would not be <span class="pagenum">[Pg 337]</span> shown +kindness? She despaired about him. It made her very depressed to think that +their journey also seemed a failure--yes, it was, she saw that more every day. +The charm of novelty that had stirred him up during the first days had +disappeared; now it was as it had been before--worse.</p> + +<p class="normal">For now the air no longer seemed to agree with him. When they +walked together he frequently stood still and panted, like one who has +difficulty in breathing. She often felt quite terrified when that happened. "Let +us turn round, I know you don't feel well." But this difficulty in breathing +passed away so quickly that she scolded herself for the excessive anxiety she +always felt on his account, an anxiety that had embittered so many years of her +life.</p> + +<p class="normal">But one night he had another attack, worse than the others he +had already had at home.</p> + +<p class="normal">It might have been about midnight when Käte, who was sleeping +softly, rocked to sleep by the constant roar of the sea, was startled by a +knocking at the door between their two rooms, and by a cry of "Mother, oh +mother!" Was not that a child moaning? She sat up drowsily--then she recognised +his voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Wolfgang, yes, what's the matter?" She threw on her +morning-gown in a fright, pushed her feet into her velvet shoes, opened the +door--there he stood outside in his shirt and with bare feet, trembling and +stammering: "I feel--so bad." He looked at her imploringly with eyes full of +terror, and fell down before she had time to catch hold of him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte almost pulled the bell down in her terror. The porter and +chambermaid came running. "Telegraph 'Come' to my husband--to my husband. +Quickly, at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">When the scared proprietor of the hotel also appeared, <span class="pagenum"> +[Pg 338]</span> they laid the sick lad on his untidy bed again; the porter +rushed to the telegraph station and for the doctor, the chambermaid sobbed. The +landlord himself hurried down into his cellar to fetch some of the oldest brandy +and the best champagne. They were all so extremely sorry for the young +gentleman; he seemed to be lying in a deep swoon.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not weep like the good-natured person the +chambermaid, whose tears ran down her cheeks the whole time. She had too much to +think of, she had to do her duty until the last. Until the last--now she knew +it. It was not necessary for the doctor to shake his head nor to whisper +mysteriously to the proprietor of the hotel--she knew it. Restoratives were +brought from the chemist's; the sick lad's head was lowered, his feet raised, +they gave him camphor injections--the heart would not be whipped on any more.</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not leave him; she stood close to his bed. The +golden, invincible, eternal light was just rising gloriously out of the waves +when he stammered something once more. She bent over him as closely as she had +once done over the sleeping boy, when she had longed to give him breath of her +breath, to mould him anew for herself, to give him life of her life. She had not +that wish any longer. She let him go now. And if she bent over him so closely +now, hung on his lips so affectionately, it was only to hear his last wish.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mo-ther?" There was such a question in his voice. He said +nothing further. He only opened his eyes once more, looked round searchingly, +sighed and then expired.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The sun laughed in at the windows. And the woman, who, with +dry eyes, was now standing at one of them looking out at the splendour, at the +refreshing, glorious <span class="pagenum">[Pg 339]</span> morning that was more +sparkling than ever before, felt vanquished by the power of nature. It was too +great, too sublime, too irresistible--she must bend the knee admiringly before +nature, however veiled her eyes were. Käte stood a long time in deep thought. +Outside was life, here in the room was death. But death is not the greatest +evil. She turned round with a trembling sigh and stepped back to the bed: "Thank +God!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she sank on her knees before the dead boy, folded his +cold hands and kissed him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not hear that someone tapped softly at the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Madame." The chambermaid stuck her head in. And a man's head +was visible above the chambermaid's.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Madame."</p> + +<p class="normal">Käte did not hear.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here is somebody--the gentleman--the gentleman has arrived."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My husband?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Paul Schlieben had pushed the girl aside and had entered, +pale, hurriedly, in great agitation. His wife, his poor wife. What a lot she had +had to go through alone. The lad dead! They had met him with the news as he +arrived unsuspectingly to surprise them at their breakfast.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Paul!" It was a cry of the most joyful surprise, the utmost +relief. She fled from the cold dead into his warm arms. "Paul, Paul--Wolfgang is +dead!" Now she found tears. Streaming tears that would not cease and that were +still so beneficial.</p> + +<p class="normal">All the bitterness she had felt whilst her son was still alive +disappeared with them. "Poor boy--our poor dear boy." These tears washed him +clean, so clean that he again became the little innocent boy that had lain in +the blooming heather and laughed at the bright sun <span class="pagenum">[Pg 340]</span> with +transparent eyes. Oh, if she had only left him there. She would always reproach +herself for not having done so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Paul, Paul," she sobbed aloud. "Thank God, you are here. Had +you any idea of it? Yes, you had. You know how miserable, how unhappy I feel." +The elderly woman clasped her arms round the elderly man with almost youthful +fervour: "If I had not you--oh, the child, the poor child."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't cry so much." He wanted to console her, but the tears +rolled down his lined face too. He had travelled there as quickly as he could, +urged on by a sudden anxiety--he had had no letters from her--he had come full +of joy to surprise them, and now he found things like this. He strove for +composure.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If only I had left him there--oh, if only I had left him +there!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man entered into his wife's feelings of torture and +self-reproach, but he pointed to the dead boy, whose face above the white shirt +looked peculiarly refined, almost perfect, young and smooth and quite peaceful, +and then drew her more closely towards him with the other hand. "Don't cry. You +were the one to make a man of him--don't forget that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think so?--Oh Paul!"--she bowed the face that was +covered with tears in deep pain--"I did not make him any happier by it."</p> + +<p class="normal">She had to weep, weep unceasingly in deep acknowledgment of +worldly error. She grasped her husband's hands tremulously and drew him down +with her at the side of the bed.</p> + +<p class="normal">The hands of husband and wife were clasped together over the +son they had lost. They whispered, deeply repentant and as though it came from +one mouth:</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Forgive us our trespasses.</i>"</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 30732-h.txt or 30732-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/7/3/30732">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/3/30732</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Son of His Mother + + +Author: Clara Viebig + + + +Release Date: December 22, 2009 [eBook #30732] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER*** + + +E-text prepared by Charles Bowen from page images generously made +available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/sonofhismother00viebiala + + + + + +THE SON OF HIS MOTHER + +by + +CLARA VIEBIG + +Authorised Translation by H. Raahauge + + + + + + + +London: John Lane The Bodley Head +New York: John Lane Company +Toronto: Bell & Cockburn MCMXIII + +The Anchor Press, Ltd., Tiptree Essex + + + + + + +BOOK I + + + +THE SON OF HIS MOTHER + + + +CHAPTER I + +The husband and wife were of a literary turn of mind, and as they +had the money to cultivate their artistic tastes he wrote a little and +she painted. They also played and sang duets together, at least they +had done so when they were first married; now they went to concerts and +the opera more frequently instead. They were liked wherever they went, +they had friends, they were called "charming people," and still +something was wanting to complete their happiness--they had no +children. + +And they would probably not have any now, as they had been married +for some time, and the likelihood of children being born to them was +very remote. + +No doubt he sighed and knit his brow in unguarded moments when he +sat at his desk in his office, but especially when he passed through +the villages in the Brandenburg March on the rides he took in the more +distant environs of Berlin--partly for his health, partly because he +still retained the liking for riding from the time he was in the +cavalry--and saw swarms of little flaxen-haired children romping on the +sandy roads. However, he did not let his wife perceive that he missed +something, for he loved her. + +But she could not control herself in the same manner. The longer she +was married the more nervous she became. At times she felt irritated +with her husband for no reason. She persistently turned her eyes away +from the announcement of births in the newspapers with a certain +shrinking, and, if her glance happened once in a way to fall on one in +which happy parents notified the birth of a son, she put the paper +aside hastily. + +In former years Kate Schlieben had knitted, crocheted, embroidered +and sewn all sorts of pretty little children's garments--she used to be +quite famous for the daintiness of her little baby jackets trimmed with +blue and pink ribbons, all her newly married acquaintances would ask +her for the wonderful little things--but now she had finally given up +that sort of work. She had given up hope. What good did it do her to +put her forefingers into the tiny sleeves of a baby's first jacket, +and, holding it out in front of her, gaze at it a long, long time with +dreamy eyes? It only tortured her. + +And she felt the torture twice as much in those grey days that +suddenly put in an appearance without any reason, that creep in +silently even in the midst of sunshine. On those occasions she would +lie on the couch in her room that was furnished with such exquisite +taste--really artistically--and close her eyes tightly. And then all at +once a shout, clear, shrill, triumphant, like the cry of a swallow on +the wing, would ascend from the street, from the promenade under the +chestnut-trees. She stopped her ears when she heard that cry, which +penetrated further than any other tone, which soared up into the ether +as swiftly as an arrow, and cradled itself up there blissfully. She +could not bear to hear anything like that--she was becoming morbid. + +Alas, when she and her husband grew old, with minds no longer so +receptive and too weary to seek incitement in the world, who would +bring it to them in their home? Who would bring them anything of what +was going on outside? What youth with his freshness, with the +joyousness that envelops those of twenty like a dainty garment, +that beams from smooth brows like warmth and sunshine, would give them +back a breath of their youth, which had already disappeared in +accordance with the laws of Time? Who would wax enthusiastic at the +things that had once made them enthusiastic, and which they would enjoy +once more as though they were new for them too? Who would fill the +house and garden with his laughter, with that careless laughter that is +so infectious? Who would kiss them with warm lips, and make them happy +by his tenderness? Who would carry them on his wings with him, so that +they did not feel they were weary? + +Alas, there is no second youth for those who are childless. Nobody +would come into the inheritance of delight in what was beautiful, of +taste for what was beautiful, of enthusiasm for art and artists which +they would leave behind them. Nobody would guard reverently all those +hundreds of things and nicknacks she had gathered together so +tastefully in her house with the delight of a collector. And nobody +would, alas, hold the hand that was fast growing cold with loving +hands, in that last difficult hour which all dread, and cry: "Father, +Mother, don't go! Not yet!" Oh, God, such loving hands would not close +their eyes---- + +When Paul Schlieben used to come home from his office in those days +he was co-partner in a large business that his grandfather had founded +and his father raised to a high position--he often found his wife's +sweet face stained with tears, her delicate complexion marred by +constant weeping. And her mouth only forced itself to smile, and in her +beautiful brown eyes there lurked a certain melancholy. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders. The lady was suffering from +nerves, that was what was the matter with her. She had too much +time for brooding, she was left to herself too much. + +In order to alter this, her anxious husband withdrew from the +business for an indefinite period. His partners could get on just as +well without him. The doctor was right, he must devote himself more to +his wife; they were both so lonely, so entirely dependent on each +other. + +It was decided they should travel; there was no reason whatever why +they should remain at home. The beautiful house was given up, their +furniture, all their costly things were stored. If they cared to do so +they could remain away for years, get impressions, amuse themselves. +Kate would paint landscapes in beautiful countries, and he--well, he +could easily find compensation in writing, should he miss his usual +work. + +They went to Italy and Corsica--still further, to Egypt and Greece. +They saw the Highlands, Sweden and Norway, very many beautiful +places. + +Kate pressed her husband's hand gratefully. Her susceptible mind +waxed enthusiastic, and her talent for painting, which was by no means +insignificant, felt powerfully stimulated all at once. How splendid to +be able to paint, to keep hold of all that glow of colour, that +wonderful effect of tone that revealed itself to her delighted eyes on +her canvas. + +She was so eager that she went out with her painting materials in +the morning, whether it was at Capri, on the shores of the blue +Bosphorus, in the yellow sand of the desert, facing the precipitous +pinnacles in the Fjords, or in the rose gardens of the Riviera. Her +delicate face got sunburnt; she no longer even paid any attention to +her hands, which she used to take such care of. The ardent longing to +manifest herself had seized hold of her. Thank God, she could +create something now. The miserable feeling of a useless life did not +exist any longer, nor the torturing knowledge: your life ceases the +moment your eyes close, there is nothing of you that will survive you. +Now she would at least leave something behind that she had produced, +even if it were only a picture. Her paintings increased in number; +quite a quantity of rolls of canvas were dragged about now wherever +they went. + +At first Paul Schlieben was very pleased to see his wife so +enthusiastic. He politely carried her camp-stool and easel for her, and +never lost patience when he remained for hours and hours near her +whilst she worked. He lay in the scanty shadow of a palm-tree, and used +to follow the movements of her brush over the top of his book. How +fortunate that her art gave her so much satisfaction. Even though it +was a little fatiguing for him to lie about doing nothing he must not +say anything, no, he must not, for he had nothing to offer her as a +compensation, nothing whatever. And he sighed. It was the same sigh +that had escaped him when the numerous flaxen-haired little children +were playing about on the sandy roads in the Brandenburg March, the +same sigh which Sundays drew from him, when he used to see all +the proletariat of the town--man and wife and children, children, +children--wandering to the Zoo. Yes, he was right--he passed his hand a +little nervously across his forehead--that writer was right--now, who +could it be?--who had once said somewhere: "Why does a man marry? Only +to have children, heirs of his body, of his blood. Children to whom he +can pass on the wishes and hopes that are in him and also the +achievements; children who are descended from him like shoots from a +tree, children who enable a man to live eternally." That was the only +way in which life after death could be understood--life eternal. +The resurrection of the body, which the Church promises, was to be +interpreted as the renewal of one's own personality in the coming +generations. Oh, there was something great, something indescribably +comforting in such a survival. + +"Are you speculating about something?" asked his wife. She had +looked up from her easel for a moment. + +"Eh? What? Did you say anything, darling?" The man started up in a +fright, as one who has been straying along forbidden paths. + +She laughed at his absent-mindedness; it was getting worse and +worse. But what was he thinking of? Business?--surely not. But perhaps +he wanted to write a novel, a tale? Why should he not try his hand at +that for once in a way? That was something quite different from sending +short chatty accounts of one's journey to one of the papers. And of +course he would be able to do it. People who had not half the +education, not half the knowledge, not half the aesthetic refinement of +feeling he had wrote quite readable books. + +She talked brightly and persuasively to him, but he shook his head +with a certain resignation: nonsense, neither novels nor any other kind +of writing. And he thought to himself: it is always said that a piece +of work is like a child--that is to say, only a truly great piece of +work, of course. Was the work he and his wife created work in that +sense? Work that would exist eternally? He suddenly found things to +censure severely in her picture, which he had politely admired only the +day before. + +She got quite frightened about it. Why was he so irritable to-day? +Was he going to develop nerves at the finish? Yes, it was evident, the +warm air of the south did not suit him, he had lost his briskness, +looked so tired. There was nothing for it, her husband was more +to her than her picture, she would leave off her painting at once. + +And that was what happened. They went away, travelled from one place +to another, from one hotel to another, along the lakes, over the +frontier, until they made a somewhat longer stay high up among the Alps +in Switzerland. + +Instead of lying under a palm-tree he lay in the shadow of a +fir--now his wife was painting--and followed the movements of her brush +with his eyes over the top of his open book. + +She was busily painting, for she had discovered a delightful +subject. That green alpine meadow, with its wealth of flowers as +variegated as they could possibly be and the backs of the brown cows +with the sun shining on them, was as full of charm as the Garden of +Eden on the first day of creation. In her eagerness to see she had +pushed her broad-brimmed hat back, and the warm summer sun was burning +little golden spots on her delicate cheeks and the narrow bridge of her +finely shaped nose. She held the brush that she had dipped into the +green on her palette up against the green of the meadow in order to +compare the two, and blinked with half-closed eyes to see if she had +got the colour right. + +At that moment a sound made her start--it was half a growl of +displeasure at the disturbance, half a murmur of approval. Her husband +had risen and was looking at a couple of children who had approached +them noiselessly. They were offering rhododendrons for sale, the girl +had a small basket full of them, the boy was carrying his nosegay in +his hand. + +What exceedingly pretty creatures they were, the girl so blue-eyed +and gentle, the boy a regular little scamp. The woman's heart swelled. +She bought all the rhododendrons from them, even gave them more +than they asked for them. + +That was a stroke of great luck for the little Swiss boy and +girl--just think, to get more than they had asked for. They blushed +with happiness, and when the strange lady asked them questions in a +kind voice, they commenced to chatter ingenuously. + +She would have to paint _those_ children, they were really too +delightful, they were a thousand times more beautiful than the most +beautiful landscape. + +Paul Schlieben looked on with a strange uneasiness whilst his wife +painted the children, first the big girl and then the small boy. How +intently she gazed at the boy's round face. Her eyes were brilliant, +she never seemed to be tired, and only paused when the children grew +impatient. All her thoughts turned on the painting. Would the children +come again that day? Was the light good? Surely there would not be a +storm to prevent the children from coming? Nothing else was of any +interest to her. She displayed great zeal. And still the pictures +turned out bad; the features were like theirs, but there was no trace +of the child-mind in them. He saw it clearly: those who are childless +cannot paint children. + +Poor woman! He looked on at her efforts with a feeling of deep +compassion. Was not her face becoming soft like a mother's, lovely and +round when she bent down to the children? The Madonna type--and still +this woman had been denied children. + +No, he could not look on at it any longer, it made him ill. The man +bade the children go home in a gruff voice. The pictures were ready, +what was the good of touching them up any more? That did not make them +any better, on the contrary. + +That evening Kate cried as she used to cry at home. And she +was angry with her husband. Why did he not let her have that pleasure? +Why did he all at once say they were to leave? She did not understand +him. Were the children not sweet, delightful? Was it because they +disturbed him? + +"Yes," was all he said. There was a hard dry sound in his voice--a +"yes" that came with such difficulty--and she raised her head from the +handkerchief in which she had buried it and looked across at him. He +was standing at the window in the carpeted room of the hotel, his hands +resting on the window-ledge, his forehead pressed against the pane. He +was gazing silently at the vast landscape before him, in which the +mountaintops covered with snow that glowed in the radiance of the +setting sun spoke to him of immortality. How he pressed his lips +together, how nervously his moustache trembled. + +She crept up to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "What is the +matter with you?" she asked him softly. "Do you miss your work--yes, +it's your work, isn't it? I was afraid of that. You are getting tired +of this, you must be doing something again. I promise you I'll be +reasonable--never complain any more--only stop here a little longer, +only three weeks longer--two weeks." + +He remained silent. + +"Only ten--eight--six days more. Not even that?" she said, bitterly +disappointed, for he had shaken his head. She wound her arms round his +neck. "Only five more--four--three days, please. Why not? Those few +days, please only three days more." She positively haggled for each +day. "Oh, then at least two days more." + +She sobbed aloud, her arms fell from his neck--he must allow her two +days. + +Her voice cut him to the heart. He had never heard her beg +like that before, but he made a stand against the feeling of yielding +that was creeping over him. Only no sentimentality. It was better to go +away from there quickly, much better for her. + +"We're going away to-morrow." + +And as she looked at him with wide-open horror-struck eyes and +pallid cheeks, the words escaped from his lips although he had not +intended saying them, drawn from him by a bitterness that he could not +master any longer: + +"They are not yours!" + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +And they went away. + +But it seemed to the woman as though every joy had disappeared with +the emerald green meadow in the Alps, in which she had painted the +lovely children. There was the same old nervous twitch in her face, the +corners of her mouth drooped slightly and she cried very easily. Paul +Schlieben watched his wife with positive dismay. Oh dear, had it all +been in vain, the giving up of his work, all this travelling about +without making any plans that was so fatiguing? Had the old melancholy +frame of mind taken possession of her again? + +When he saw her sitting there so disinclined to exert herself, her +hands lying idle in her lap, a feeling akin to fury came over him. Why +did she not do something? Why did she not paint? That confounded meadow +in the Alps was surely not the only place where she could work. Was it +not beautiful here as well? + +They had settled down in the Black Forest. But it was in vain that +he hoped from day to day that one of the quiet green wooded valleys or +one of the nut-brown maidens of the Black Forest with her cherry-red +hat and enormous red umbrella, as Vautier has painted them, would tempt +her to bring out her painting materials. She felt no inclination--nay, +she had positively a kind of dread of touching her brushes again. + +He reproached himself bitterly in secret. Would it not have been +better to have left her that pleasure and not have interfered? +Still--the thing would have had to end some time, and the longer it had +lasted the more difficult the separation would have been. But he had +made up his mind about one thing, they would return to Berlin again +late in the autumn. With the best will in the world he would not be +able to stand it any longer. He was heartily tired of this wandering +from hotel to hotel, this lounging about the world with nothing to show +for it but an occasional short article for the papers, a chatty account +of a journey to some corner of the earth of which people knew but +little. He longed for a home of his own again, and felt a great desire +to return to his business, which he had often looked upon as a fetter +and so prosaic whilst he was in it. But Kate! When he thought of her +again spending many hours alone at home, with no interests beyond +herself and her reading for in her state of hypersensitiveness she +found little pleasure in associating with other women--a feeling of +hopelessness came over him. Then there would be the same sad eyes +again, the same melancholy smile, the old irritable moods from which +the whole house used to suffer, herself the most. + +And he subjected himself to an examination as though blaming himself +for it. He passed his whole life in review: had he committed any crime +that no son had been given to him, no daughter? Ah, if only Kate had a +child everything would be right. Then she would have quite enough to +do, would be entirely taken up with the little creature round which the +love of parents, full of hope and entitled to hope, revolves in an +ever-renewed circle. + +Both husband and wife were torturing themselves, for the woman's +thoughts especially always ended at that one point. Now that +she had been separated from those dear children, from the, alas, much +too short happiness she had experienced that summer, it seemed to have +become quite clear to her what she missed--for had it not only weighed +on her like a painful suspicion before? But now, now the terrible +unvarnished truth was there: everything people otherwise call +"happiness" in this world is nothing compared to a child's kiss, to its +smile, to its nestling in its mother's lap. + +She had always given the children in the meadow a tender kiss when +they came and went, now she longed for those kisses. Her husband's kiss +did not replace them; she would soon have been married fifteen years, +_his_ kiss was no longer a sensation, it had become a habit. But a kiss +from a child's lips, that are so fresh, so untouched, so timid and yet +so confiding, was something quite new to her, something, exceedingly +sweet. A feeling of happiness had flowed through her soul on those +occasions as well as the quite physical pleasure of being able to bury +her mouth in those delicately soft and yet so firm cheeks, which health +and youth had covered with a soft down like that on the cheeks of a +peach. Her thoughts always wandered back to that meadow in the Alps, +full of longing. And this longing of hers that was never stilled +magnified what had happened, and surrounded the figures that had +appeared in her life for so short a time with the whole halo of tender +memories. Her idle thoughts spun long threads. As she longed for those +little ones so they would also be longing for her, they would wander +across the meadow weeping, and the large present of money she had left +behind for each of them with the proprietor of the hotel--she had been +obliged to leave without saying good-bye to them--would not console +them; they would stand outside the door and cast their eyes up +to the windows from which their friend so often had waved to them. No, +she could not forgive Paul for showing so little comprehension of her +feelings. + +The stay in the Black Forest, whose velvety slopes reminded them too +much of the Swiss meadows and from whose points of view you could look +over to the Alps on a clear day, became a torture to both the man and +woman. They felt they must get away; the dark firs, the immense green +forest became too monotonous for them. Should they not try some seaside +resort for once? The sea is ever new. And it was also just the season +for the seaside. The wind blew already over the stubble in the fields, +as they drove down to the plain. + +They chose a Belgian watering-place, one in which the visitors dress +a great deal, and in which quite a cosmopolitan set of people offer +something new to the eye every day. They both felt it, they had +remained much too long in mountain solitudes. + +During the first days the gay doings amused them, but then Paul and +his wife, between whom something like a barrier had tried to push +itself lately, both agreed all at once: this sauntering up and down of +men who looked like fools, of women who if they did not belong to the +demi-monde successfully imitated it, was not for them. Let them only +get away. + +The man proposed they should give up travelling entirely and return +to Berlin a little earlier, but Kate would not listen to it. She had a +secret dread of Berlin--oh, would she have to go back to her old +life again? So far she had never asked herself what she had really +expected from these long months of travel; but she had hoped for +something--certainly. What? + +Oh dear, now she would be so much alone again, and there was +nothing, nothing that really filled her life entirely. + +No, she was not able to return to Berlin yet. She told her husband +that she felt she had not quite recovered yet--she was certainly +anaemic, she was suffering from poorness of blood. She ought to have +gone to Schwalbach, Franzensbad or some other iron springs long +ago--who knows, perhaps many things would be different then. + +He was not impatient--at least he did not show it--for he was moved +with a deep compassion for her. Of course she should go to some iron +springs; they ought to have tried them long ago, have made a point of +it. + +The Belgian doctor sent them to the well-known baths at Spa. + +They arrived there full of hope. In her the hope was quite genuine. +"You will see," she said to her husband in a brighter voice, "this will +do me good. I have a vague feeling--no, I really feel quite sure that +something good will happen to us here." + +And he hoped so too. He forced himself to hope in order to please +her. Oh, it would be enough, quite enough if the characteristics of the +landscape won so much interest from her that she took up her painting +again, which she had neglected entirely. How pleased he would be at +even that. If her former zeal for art showed itself again, that was a +thousand times more health-bringing than the strongest iron springs at +Spa. + +The heather was in bloom, the whole plateau was red, the purple sun +set in a mass of purple. + +It happened as he had hoped, that is to say, she did not begin to +paint, but she made expeditions into the Ardennes and the Eifel with +him on foot and in a carriage, and enjoyed them. The Venn had bewitched +her. In her light-coloured dress she stood like a small speck +of light in the immense seriousness of the landscape, protected her +eyes with her hand from the view of the sun, which is so open there, so +unobstructed either by tree or mountain, and took deep breaths of the +sharp clear air that has not yet been vitiated by any smoke from human +dwellings, hardly by human breath. Around her the Venn blossomed like a +carpet of one colour, dark, calm, refreshing and beneficial to the eye; +it was only here and there that the blue gentian and the white +quivering flock of the cotton-grass were seen to raise their heads +among the heather. + +"Oh, how beautiful!" She said it with deep feeling. The melancholy +of the landscape flattered her mood. There was no gaudy tone there that +disturbed her, no medley of colours. Even the sun, which sets there in +greater beauty than anywhere else--blushing so deeply that the whole +sky blushes with it, that the winding Venn rivulet hedged in by +cushions of moss, that every pool, every peat-hole full of water +reflects its beams ruddy-gold, and the sad Venn itself wears a mantle +of glowing splendour--even this sun brought no glaringly bright light +with it. It displayed its mighty disc in a grand dignified manner, a +serious victor after a serious struggle. + +Kate looked into this marvellous sun with large eyes bathed in +tears, until the last beam, the last rosy streak in the grey mass of +clouds had vanished. Now it had gone--the heavens were dead--but +in the morning it would be there again, an eternal, imperishable, +never-conquered hope. Then should not, ought not the human heart to +beat again too, revived anew, always full of hope? + +Clouds of mist sped across the moor, veiled, indescribable, vague +shapes. There was a whispering before the coming of the wind, a +lisping through the heather and the cotton-grass--it seemed to Kate as +though the Venn had something to tell her. What was it saying? Ah, it +must be for some reason that she had come there, that she felt she was +being held fast as though by a strong and still kind hand. + +She walked on with quicker, more elastic steps, as though she were +searching for something. + +Her husband was delighted that his wife was so pleased with the +neighbourhood. True, the landscape had no special attraction for +him--was it not very desolate, monotonous and unfertile there? But the +characteristic scenery was certainly harmonious, very harmonious--well, +if she found pleasure in it, it was better than a paradise to him. + +They often drove up to Baraque Michel, that lonely inn on the +borders between Belgium and Prussia, in which the douaniers drank their +drams of gin when on the look-out for smugglers, and where the +peat-cutters dry their smocks that the mist has wetted and their +saturated boots at the fire that is always burning on the hearth. + +So many crosses in the Venn, so many human beings who have met with +a fatal accident. Kate listened to the men's stories with a secret +shudder--could the Venn be so terrible? and she questioned them again +and again. Was it possible that the man from Xhoffraix, who had driven +off to get peat litter, had been swallowed up there so close to the +road with cart and horse, and that they had never, never seen anything +of him again? And that cross there, so weather-beaten and black, how +had that come into the middle of the marsh? Why had that travelling +journeyman, whose intention it was to go along the high road from +Malmedy to Eupen, gone so far astray? Had it been dark or had there +been a heavy fall of snow so that he could not see, or was it +the cold, that terrible cold, in which a weary man can freeze to death? +Nothing of the kind; only a mist, a sudden mist, which confuses a man +so, that he no longer knows which is forward or which is backward, +which is left or which is right, that he loses all idea of where he is +going, gets away from the road and runs round in a circle like a poor, +mad, terrified animal. And all the mists that rise in the Venn when +daylight disappears, are they the souls of those who have never been +buried, and who in garments that are falling to pieces rise every night +from their graves, which have neither been consecrated by a benediction +nor by holy water and in which they cannot find rest? + +That was a fairy tale. But was not everything there as in the fairy +tale? So quite different to everywhere else in the world, in reality +ugly and yet not ugly, in reality not beautiful and yet so exceedingly +beautiful? And she herself, was she not quite a different being there? +Did she not wander about full of hope, in blissful dreams, like one to +whom something wonderful is to happen? + +It was in the sixth week of their stay at Spa. The nights were +already as cold as in winter, but the days were still sunny. It was +always a long journey up to the inn even for the strong Ardennes +horses, but Paul and his wife were there again to-day. Would they have +to leave soon? Alas, yes. Kate had to confess it to herself with +sorrow. Everything was very autumnal, the heather had finished +flowering, the air was raw; the grass that had already been frozen +during the night rustled under her feet. They could have found use for +their winter clothes. + +"Ugh, how cold," said the man shivering, and he turned up the collar +of his overcoat. He wanted to twist a shawl round his wife's neck, but +she resisted: "No, no!" She ran on in front of him through the +rustling heather with quick steps. "Just look." + +It was a wide view that presented itself to their eyes there on the +highest point in the Venn, that is adorned with a rickety wooden tower. +The whole large plateau covered with heather lay before them, with here +and there a group of dark firs that only showed spreading branches on +the side away from the storm. These firs that cowered so timidly were +trees that had been planted there; they were hardly higher than the +heather, and only recognisable on account of their different colour. +And, here and there, there was a stray grey boulder and a cross that +the wind had carried to the side of it. And a calm lay over the whole +in the pale midday autumn light as though it were God's acre. + +When they had climbed up the tower they saw still more. From the +plateau they looked down into the valley: a blue expanse around them, +blue from the darkness of the forests and from autumn vapours, and in +the beautiful blue outstretched villages the white houses half hidden +behind tall hedges. And here, looking down on Belgium, with its grey +fumes hanging like a cloud in the clear transparent autumn air, lay the +large town of Verviers with its church-towers and factory chimneys +towering above it. + +Kate heaved a sigh and shuddered involuntarily: oh, was the workaday +world so near? Was grey life already approaching nearer and nearer to +her wonderful fairy world? + +Her husband gave a slight cough; he found it very cold up there. +They went down from the tower, but when he wanted to take her back to +the inn she resisted: "No, not yet, not yet. That's only the midday +bell." + +The bell was ringing in Fischbach Chapel, that ancient little church +with its slated roof, in whose tower the great red lantern was +formerly hoisted to point out the safe harbour to the wanderer swimming +in the wild sea of mists, and the bell rung unceasingly to save the man +who had lost his way through his ear should his eye fail him. The bell +rang out clear and penetrating in the solitude, the only sound in the +vast stillness. + +"How touching that sound is." Kate stood with folded hands and +looked into the wide expanse, her eyes swimming in tears. What a charm +there was in this Venn. It encircled the soul as the tough underwood of +the heather and the creeping tendrils of the club moss entangled the +foot. When she thought of how soon she would have to leave it, to go +away from that immense stillness that seemed to be concealing a secret, +to be cherishing something marvellous in its deep lap, her heart +contracted in sudden fear. What would happen to her, what would become +of her? Her seeking soul stood like a child on the threshold of +fairyland asking for something--was there to be no gift for her? + +"What was that?" All at once she seized hold of her husband's arm +with a low cry of terror. "Didn't you hear it as well?" + +She had grown quite pale; she stood there with dilated eyes, raising +herself on her toes with an involuntary movement and craning her neck +forward. + +"There it is again. Do you hear it?" Something like a child's soft +whimpering had penetrated to her ear. + +No, he had not heard anything. "I suppose there are some people in +the neighbourhood. How you do frighten a body, Kate." He shook his head +a little angrily. "You know very well that all the women and children +have left their villages in the Venn to gather cranberries. That's all +the harvest they have, you see. Look, the berries are quite ripe." +Stooping down he took up a plant. + +The small cluster of berries of a deep coral in colour formed a +beautiful contrast to the glossy dark green of the small oval leaf. But +there were also some flowers on the plant, small pure white +flowers. + +"Like myrtle, just like the flower on a myrtle," she said, taking +the plant out of his hand. "And the leaves are also exactly like myrtle +leaves." Twisting the stalk round between her finger and thumb she +gazed at it thoughtfully. "The Venn myrtle." And, raising the little +flower to her mouth, she kissed it, full of delight. + +"Do you still remember--that time--on the evening of our +wedding-day, do you still remember? You kissed the myrtle that had been +in my wreath and I kissed it too, and then we kissed each other. +Then--then--oh, how happy we were then." She said it very softly, as +though lost in sweet memories. + +He smiled, and as she swayed towards him, with a dreamy look in her +eyes that were fixed the whole time on the little green plant, he drew +her closer and laid his arm round her. "And are we not--not"--he wanted +to say "not just as happy," but all he said was: "not happy to-day, +too?" + +She did not answer, she remained silent. But then, hurling the plant +with its glossy leaves away with a sudden movement, she turned and ran +away from him blindly into the Venn, without noticing where she was +going. + +"What's the matter, Kate?" He hurried after her, terrified. She ran +so quickly that he could not overtake her at once. "Kate, you'll fall. +Wait, I say. Kate, what is the matter with you?" + +No answer. But he saw from the convulsive movements of her shoulders +that she was weeping violently. Oh dear, what was the matter now? He +looked troubled as he ran after her across the desolate Venn. Was she +never to get any better? It was really enough to make a fellow +lose all pleasure in life. How stupid it had been to bring her to the +Venn--real madness. There was no brightness to be found there. A +hopelessness lurked in that unlimited expanse, a terrible hardness in +that sharp aromatic air, an unbearable melancholy in that vast +stillness. + +The man only heard his own quickened breathing. He ran more and more +quickly, all at once he became very anxious about his wife. Now he had +almost reached her--he had already stretched out his hand to seize hold +of her fluttering dress--then she turned round, threw herself into his +arms and sobbed: "Oh, here's both, blossom and fruit. But our myrtle +has faded and not borne fruit--not fruit--we poor people." + +So that was it--the same thing again? Confound it. He who as a rule +was so temperate stamped his foot violently. Anger, shame, and a +certain feeling of pain drove the blood to his head. There he stood now +in that lonely place with his wife in his arms weeping most pitifully, +whilst he himself was deserving of much pity in his own opinion. + +"Don't be angry, don't be angry," she implored, clinging +more closely to him. "You see, I had hoped--oh, hoped for +certain--expected--I don't know myself what, but still I had expected +something here--and today--just now everything has become clear. All, +all was in vain. Let me cry." + +And she wept as one in whom all hope is dead. + +What was he to say to her? How console her? He did not venture to +say a word, only stroked her hot face softly whilst he, too, became +conscious of a certain feeling, that feeling that he had not always the +strength to push aside. + +They stood like that for a long time without saying a word, +until he, pulling himself together, said in a voice that he tried to +make calm and indifferent: "We shall have to return, we have got quite +into the wilds. Come, take my arm. You are overtired, and when we--" + +"Hush," she said, interrupting him, letting go of his arm quickly. +"The same as before. Somebody is in trouble." + +Now he heard it as well. They both listened. Was it an animal? Or a +child's voice, the voice of quite a small child? + +"My God!" Kate said nothing more, but making up her mind quickly, +she turned to the right and ran down into a small hollow, without +heeding that she stumbled several times among the bushes, through which +it was impossible for her to force a passage. + +Her quick ear had led her right. There was the child lying on the +ground. It had no pillow, no covering, and was miserably wrapt up in a +woman's old torn skirt. The little head with its dark hair lay in the +heather that was covered with hoar-frost; the child was gazing fixedly +into the luminous space between the heavens and the Venn with its large +clear eyes. + +There was no veil, nothing to protect it; no mother either--only the +Venn. + +Nevertheless they had deceived themselves. It was not crying, it was +only talking to itself as quiet contented children generally do. It had +stretched out its little hands, which were not wrapped up like the rest +of its body, and had seized hold of some of the red berries and +squashed them. Then its little fists had wandered up to the hungry +mouth; there were drops of the juice from the berries on its baby +lips. + +"Quite alone?" Kate had sunk down on her knees, her hands trembled +as they embraced the bundle. "Oh, the poor child. How sweet it is. +Look, Paul. How has it come here? It will die of cold, of +hunger. Do call out, Paul. The poor little mite. If its mother came now +I would give her a piece of my mind it's disgraceful to let the +helpless little mite lie like this. Call--loud--louder." + +He called, he shouted: "Heigh! Hallo! Is nobody there?" + +No voice answered, nobody came. The whole Venn was as quiet as +though it were an extinct, long-forgotten world. + +"Nobody is coming," whispered Kate quite softly, and there was an +expression of fear and at the same time trembling exultation in her +voice. "Its mother does not trouble--who knows where the woman is? I +wonder if she's coming?" She looked round searchingly, turned her head +in all directions, and then stooped over the child again with a sigh of +contentment. + +What unpardonable thoughtlessness--no, what unspeakable barbarity +to abandon such a mite in that place. If they had come only a few +hours--only an hour later. It might already have been bitten by a snake +then, might even have been torn to pieces by a wolf. + +Then her husband had to laugh, although the sight of her +over-excitement had slightly annoyed him. "No, my child, there are no +poisonous snakes here and no more wolves either, so you can be at rest +about that. But when the mists begin to rise, they would have done for +him." + +"Oh!" Kate pressed the foundling to her bosom. She was sitting on +her heels holding the child in her lap; she stroked its rosy cheeks, +its little downy head, and showered caresses and flattering words on +it, but the child continued to gaze into the luminous space with its +large, dark, and yet so clear eyes. It did not smile, but it did not +cry either; it took no notice whatever of the strangers. + +"Do you think it has been left here intentionally?" asked Kate +suddenly, opening her eyes wide. The blood flew to her head in a hot +wave. "Oh then--then"--she drew a trembling breath and pressed the +child to her bosom, as though she did not want to let it go again. + +"It will all be cleared up somehow," said the man evasively. "The +mother will be sure to come." + +"Do you see her--do you see her?" she inquired almost anxiously. + +"No." + +"No." She repeated it in a relieved tone of voice, and then she +laughed. After that her eyes and ears belonged entirely to the helpless +little creature. "Where's baby--where is he then? Laugh a little, do. +Look at me once with those big, staring eyes. Oh, you little darling, +oh, you sweet child." She played with it and pressed kisses on its +hands without noticing that they were dirty. + +"What are we to do now?" said the man, perplexed. + +"We can't leave it here. We shall have to take it with us, of +course." There was something very energetic about the delicate-looking +woman all at once. "Do you think I would forsake the child?" Her cheeks +glowed, her eyes gleamed. + +Paul Schlieben looked at his wife with a certain awe. How beautiful +she was at that moment. Beautiful, healthy, happy. He had not seen her +like that for a long time. Not since he had folded her in his arms as a +happy bride. Her bosom rose and fell quickly with every trembling +breath she took, and the child lay on her breast and the Venn myrtle +bloomed at her feet. + +A strange emotion came over him; but he turned away: what had that +strange child to do with them? Still he admitted in a hesitating voice: +"We certainly can't leave it here. But do you know what we can do? +We'll take it with us to the inn. Give it to me, I'll carry it." + +But she wanted to carry it herself, she only let him help her up. +"There--there--come, my sweet little babe." She raised her foot +cautiously to take the first step--then a shout tied her to the +spot. + +"Hallo!" + +A rough voice had shouted it. And now a woman came up to them; the +figure in the fluttering skirt was outlined big and clear against the +rarefied ether that flowed around it. + +Where had she come from so suddenly? From there, from behind the +mound of earth that had been thrown up near the peat pit. She had been +creeping on all fours plucking berries; a pail that was almost ft 11 +hung on her arm, and in her right hand she carried the wooden measure +and the large bone curry-comb with which she stripped off the +berries. + +That was the mother! Kate got a terrible fright; she turned +pale. + +Her husband was taken by surprise too. But then he gave a sigh of +relief: that was decidedly the best way out of it. Of course, they +might have known it at once, how should the child have come into the +desolate Venn all alone? The mother had been looking for berries, and +had put it down there meanwhile. + +But the woman did not seem to take it kindly that they had looked so +carefully after the child during her absence. The strong bony arms took +it away from the lady somewhat roughly. The woman's eyes examined the +strangers suspiciously. + +"Is it your child?" asked Paul. He need not have asked the question; +it had exactly the same dark eyes as the woman, only the +child's were brighter, not dulled as yet by life's dust as the mother's +were. + +The woman made no answer. It was only when the man asked once more, +"Are you the mother?" and put his hand into his pocket at the same +time, that she found it worth while to give a curt nod: + +"C'est l' mi'n."[A] Her face retained its gloomy expression; there +was no movement of pride or joy. + + + +[Footnote A: C'est le mien.] + + + +Kate noticed it with a certain angry surprise. How indifferent the +woman was. Was she not holding the child as though it were a useless +burden? She was filled with envy, torturing envy, and at the same time +with hot anger. That woman certainly did not deserve the child. She +would have liked to have torn it out of her arms. How rough she looked, +what coarse features she had, what a hard expression. She might really +frighten anybody terribly with her black looks. But now--now her +expression brightened; ah, she had seen the piece of money Paul had +taken out of his purse. + +Ugh, what a greedy expression she had now. + +The fruit-picker stretched out her hand--there was a large shining +silver coin--and when it was given to her, when she held it in her hand +she drew a deep breath; her brown fingers closed round it tightly. + +"Merci." A smile passed quickly across the sullen face in which the +corners of the mouth drooped morosely, her blunted expression grew +animated for a moment or two. And then she prepared to trudge away, the +shapeless bundle containing the child on one arm, the heavy pail on the +other. + +They now saw for the first time how poor her skirt was; it had +patches of all colours and sizes. Dried heather and fir-needles stuck +to her matted and untidy plaits, as they hung out from the gaudily +spotted cotton handkerchief; she had an old pair of men's +hobnailed shoes on her feet. They did not know whether she was old or +young; her stout body and hanging breasts disfigured her, but that her +face had not been ugly once upon a time could still be seen. The little +one resembled her. + +"You've got a pretty child," said Paul. To please his wife he +started a conversation again with this woman who was so inaccessible. +"How old is the boy?" + +The fruit-picker shook her head and looked past the questioner +apathetically. There was no getting anything out of the woman, how +terribly stupid she was. The man wanted to let her go, but Kate pressed +up against him and whispered: "Ask her where she lives. Where she +lives--do you hear?" + +"Heigh, where do you live, my good woman?" + +She shook her head once more without saying a word. + +"Where do you come from, I mean? From what village?" + +"Je ne co'pr nay,"[A] she said curtly. But then, becoming more +approachable--perhaps she hoped for a second gift of money--she began +in a whining, plaintive voice: "Ne n'ava nay de pan et tat d's +e'fa'ts."[B] + +"You're a Walloon, aren't you?" + +"Ay[C]--Longfaye." And she raised her arm and pointed in a direction +in which nothing was to be seen but the heavens and the Venn. + +Longfaye was a very poor village in the Venn. Paul Schlieben knew +that, and was about to put his hand into his pocket again, but Kate +held him back, "No, not her--not the woman--you must hand it over to +the vestryman for the child, the poor child." + + + +[Footnote A: Je ne comprends pas.] + +[Footnote B: Nous n'avons pas de pain et tant d'enfants.] + +[Footnote C: Yes.] + + + +She whispered softly and very quickly in her excitement. + +It was impossible for the woman to have understood anything, but her +black eyes flew as quick as lightning from the gentleman to the lady, +and remained fixed on the fine lady from the town full of suspicion: if +she would not give her anything, why should she let them ask her any +more questions? What did they want with her? With the curtest of nods +and a brusque "adieu" the Walloon turned away. She walked away across +the marsh calmly but with long strides; she got on quickly, her figure +became smaller and smaller, and soon the faded colour of her miserable +skirt was no longer recognisable in the colourless Venn. + +The sun had disappeared with the child; suddenly everything became +grey. + +Kate stood motionless looking in the direction of Longfaye. She +stood until she shivered with cold, and then hung heavily on her +husband's arm; she went along to the inn with dragging feet, as though +she had grown tired all at once. + +The mist began to conceal the bright midday. Cold damp air, which +wets more than rain, made their clothes clammy. The stinging flies from +the swamps flew in big swarms through the door and windows of the inn; +a smouldering peat-fire was burning within, fanned to a bright flame +by means of dry fir twigs, and the flies clung to the wall near the +fire-place and to the ceiling--no, they would not die yet. + +Autumn had come, sun and warmth had disappeared from the Venn, it +was wise to flee now. + +But outside, in the depths of the wilds above the highest point in +the Venn, a lonely buzzard was moving round and round in a circle, +uttering the piercing triumphant cry of a wild bird. He was happy there +in summer as in winter. He did not want to leave. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The vestryman of the small village in the Venn felt somewhat surprised +and embarrassed when such a fine lady and gentleman drove up to his +house and wished to speak to him. He went out to them, walking through +the filthy water in his yard that splashed up to his knees. He did not +know where he should take them to, as the little pigs and the calf were +in the house and the old sow was wallowing in front of the door. + +So they walked up and down the quiet village street from which the +few farms lay somewhat back, whilst the carriage jolted slowly along in +the deep ruts behind them. + +Kate was pale, you could see from her eyes that she had only had +very little sleep. But she was smiling, and a happy excitement full of +expectation was written on her features, spoke in her gait; she was +always a little ahead of the others. + +Her husband's face was very grave. Was he not committing a great +imprudence, acting in an extremely hasty manner for the sake of his +wife? If it did not turn out all right? + +They had had a bad night. He had brought Kate home from the inn the +day before in a strangely silent and absent-minded mood. She had eaten +nothing, and, feigning extreme fatigue, had gone early to bed. +But when he retired to rest a few hours later he found her still awake. +She was sitting up in bed with her beautiful hair hanging down her back +in two long plaits, which gave her quite a youthful appearance. Her +bewildered eyes gazed at him full of a strange longing, and then she +threw both arms round his neck and drew his head down to her. + +Her manner had been so strange, so gentle and yet so impetuous, that +he asked her anxiously whether there was anything the matter with her. +But she had only shaken her head and held him close in a silent +embrace. + +At last he thought she had fallen asleep--and she was asleep, but +only for quite a short time. Then she woke again with a loud cry. She +had dreamt, dreamt so vividly--oh, if he knew what she had been +dreaming. Dreaming--dreaming--she sighed and tossed about, and then +laughed softly to herself. + +He noticed that she had something on her mind, which she would like +to tell him but which she had hardly the courage to say. So he asked +her. + +Then she had confessed it to him, hesitatingly, shyly, and yet with +so much passion that it terrified him. It was the child of which she +had been thinking the whole time, of which she always must think--oh, +if only she had it. She would have it, must have it. The woman had so +many other children, and she--she had none. And she would be so happy +with it, so unspeakably happy. + +She had become more and more agitated in the darkness of the night, +uninterrupted by a single word from him, by any movement--he had lain +quite quietly, almost as though the surprise had paralysed him, +although it could not really be called a surprise any more. What was +her whole life? she had said. A constant longing. All the love +he showered on her could not replace the one thing: a child, a +child. + +"My dear, good husband, don't refuse it. Make me happy. No other +mother on earth will be so happy--my darling husband, give me the +child." Her tears were falling, her arms clasped him, her kisses rained +down on his face. + +"But why just _that_ child? And why decide so quickly? It's no +trifle--we must think it over very carefully first." + +He had made objections, excuses, but she had pertinent answers ready +for all. What was to be thought over very carefully? They would not +come to any other result. And how could he think for a moment that the +woman would perhaps not give them the child? If she did not love it, +she would be glad to give it, and if she did love it, then all the more +reason for her to be glad to give it, and to thank God that she knew it +was so well taken care of. + +"But the father, the father. Who knows whether he will agree to +it?" + +"Oh, the father. If the mother gives it, the father is sure to +agree. One bread-eater less is always a good thing for such poor +people. The poor child, perhaps it will die for want of food, and it +would be so well"--she broke off--"isn't it like a dispensation of +Providence that just we should come to the Venn, that just we should +find it?" + +He felt that she was persuading him, and he strove against it in his +heart. No, if she allowed herself to be carried away by her feelings in +such a manner--she was only a woman--then he, as a man, must +subordinate his feelings to common sense. + +And he enumerated all the difficulties to her again and again, and +finally said to her: "You can't guess what troubles you may be +preparing for yourself. If the affection you now think you feel for the +child should not last? If he is not congenial to you when he grows +older? Bear in mind, he is and will always be the child you have +adopted." + +But then she had almost flown into a passion. "How can you say such +things? Do you think I am narrow-minded? Whether it is my own child or +a child I have adopted is quite immaterial, as it becomes mine through +its training. I will train it in my own way. That it is of your own +flesh and blood has nothing to do with it. Am I only to love a child +because I have borne it? Oh no. I love the child because--because it is +so small, so innocent, because it must be so extremely sweet when such +a helpless little creature stretches out its arms to you." And she +spread out her arms and then folded them across her breast, as though +she was already holding a child to her heart. "You're a man, you do not +understand it. But you are so anxious to make me happy make me happy +now. Dear, darling husband, you will very soon forget that it is not +our own child, you will soon not remember it any more. It will say +'Father,' 'Mother' to us--and we will be its father and mother." + +If she were right! He was silent, thrilled by a strange emotion. And +why should she not be right? A child that one trains according to one's +own method from its first year, that is removed entirely from the +surroundings in which it was born, that does not know but what it is +the child of its present parents, that learns to think with their +thoughts and feel with their feelings, cannot have anything strange +about it any more. It will become part of oneself, will be as dear, as +beloved as though one had begotten it oneself. + +Pictures arose before his mind's eye which he no longer +expected to see, no longer ventured to hope for. He saw his smiling +wife with a smiling child on her lap; he saw himself smile, and felt a +pride he had never known when he heard its soft childish voice lisp: +"Fa-ther." Yes, Kate was right, all the other things that go by the +name of happiness are nothing compared to this happiness. Only a +father, a mother, knows what joy is. + +He kissed his wife, and this kiss already meant half consent; she +felt that. + +"Let us drive there to-morrow, the first thing to-morrow morning," +she implored, in a tone of suppressed rapture. + +He endeavoured to remain calm: after they had maturely considered +the matter, they would first have to talk it over with their lawyer in +Berlin, and other intimate friends. + +Then she lost her temper. She pouted, and then she laughed at him: +was this a business matter? What had the lawyer and other people to do +with such a very important, quite personal and private matter? Nobody +was to be asked about it, nobody was to interfere with it. Not a single +person must suspect where the child came from or who were its parents. +They, he and she, were its parents, they were responsible for it, its +life had begun when they took it, and they vouched for its future. This +child was their work, their work entirely. + +"We'll fetch it the first thing to-morrow. The sooner it gets out of +that dirt and misery the better--don't you agree with me, Paul?" She +did not give him a chance of saying anything more, she overwhelmed him +with plans and proposals, in her sparkling vivacity; and her exuberant +spirits overcame his scruples. + +One can have too many scruples, be too cautious, and thus embitter +every pleasure in life, he said to himself. There was surely +nothing extraordinary in what they were doing? They only picked up +something that had been laid at their feet; in that way they were +obeying a hint given them by Fate. And there were really no +difficulties in connection with it. If they did not betray it +themselves nobody would find out about the child's antecedents, and +there would not be any questions asked in the village either as to what +had become of it. It was a nameless, homeless little creature they were +going to take away with them, of which they would make what they liked. +Later on when the little one was old enough they would formally adopt +it, and thus confirm also in writing what their hearts had already +approved of long ago. Now the only thing left to do was to get hold of +the vestryman at Longfaye, and make arrangements with the parents for +the surrender of the child with his assistance. + +When Paul Schlieben had come to this decision, he was troubled with +the same restlessness as his wife. Oh, if only it were morning, she +groaned. If anybody should steal a march on them now, if the child +should no longer be there next morning? She tossed about in her +impatience and fear. But her husband also turned from side to side +without sleeping. How could they know whether the child was healthy? +For a moment he weighed anxiously in his mind whether it would not be +advisable to confide in the doctor at the baths at Spa--he might drive +with them and examine the child first of all--but then he rejected the +thought again. The child looked so strong. He recalled its sturdy +fists, the clear look in its bright eyes--it had lain on the bare +ground in the cold and wind without any protection--it must have a +strong constitution. They need not trouble about that. + +It was very early in the morning when husband and wife +rose--weary as though all their limbs were bruised, but driven on by a +kind of joyful determination. + +Kate ran about the room at the hotel, so busy, so happy and excited, +as though she were expecting a dear guest. She felt so sure they would +bring the child back with them straightway. At all events she would +commence packing the trunks, for when they had got it they would want +to get home, home as quickly as possible. "The hotel is no place for +such a little darling. It must have its nursery, a bright room with +flowered curtains--but dark ones besides to draw in front of the +windows so as to subdue the light when it goes to sleep--otherwise +everything must be bright, light, airy. And there must be a baby's +chest-of-drawers there with all the many bottles and basins, and its +little bath, its bed with the white muslin curtains behind which you +can see it lying with red cheeks, its little fist near its head, +slumbering soundly." + +She was so young-looking, so lovely in her joyful expectation, that +her husband was charmed with her. Did not the sunshine seem to be +coming now for which he had been waiting so long in vain? It preceded +the child, fell on its path, making it clear and bright. + +Both husband and wife were full of excitement as they drove to +Longfaye. They had taken a comfortable landau that could be closed that +day, instead of the light carriage for two in which they generally made +their excursions. It might be too cold for the child on the way back. +Rugs and cloaks and shawls were packed in it, quite a large choice. + +Paul Schlieben had taken his papers with him. They would hardly be +likely to want any proof of his identity, but he stuck them into his +pocket as a precaution, so as to provide against any delay that might +be caused by their absence. He had been told that the vestryman +was quite a sensible man, so everything would be settled smoothly. + +As the rowan trees on both sides of the road bowed their tops under +their autumn load of red berries, so the heads of both husband and wife +were bowed under a flood of thoughts full of promise. The trees flew +quickly past the carriage as it rolled along, and so did their lives' +different stages past their agitated minds. Fifteen years of married +life--long years when one is expecting something first with confidence, +then with patience, then with faint-heartedness, then with longing, +with a longing that is kept more and more secret as the years go by, +and that becomes more and more burning on account of the secrecy. Now +the fulfilment was at hand--a fulfilment certainly different from what +husbands and wives who love each other picture to themselves, but still +a fulfilment. + +That old sentence in the Bible came into the woman's mind and would +not be banished: _But when the fulness of the time was come, God sent +forth His Son._ Oh, this child from a strange, from an unknown land, +from a land that had neither fields nor fruits, and was not blessed +with rich harvests, this child was a gift from God, given by His +goodness. She bowed her head full of gratitude, as though she had +received a blessing. + +And the man pressed his wife's hand gently, and she returned the +pressure. They remained sitting hand in hand. His glance sought hers +and she blushed. She loved him again as in the first year of her +marriage--no, she loved him much more now, for now, now he gave her the +happiness of her life, the child. + +Her eyes that were full of bliss swept over the poor Venn district, +which looked brown and desolate, and which was still a fairyland full +of the most glorious wonders. + +"Didn't I know it?" she murmured triumphantly, although trembling +with an agitation that was almost superstitious. "I felt +it--here--here." + +She could hardly wait until they reached the village hi the Venn, +oh, how far away from the world it lay, so quite forgotten. And so +poor. But the poverty did not terrify her, nor the dirt--the result of +the poverty; she was going to take the child away with her now, to take +him where there was culture and prosperity, and he would never know +that he had lain on the bare ground instead of in a soft bed. She +thought of Moses. As he had been found in the bulrushes on the banks of +the Nile, so she had found him on the grass in the Venn--would he +become a great man like him? Desires, prayers, hopes, and a hundred +feelings she had not known before agitated her mind. + +Paul Schlieben had some difficulty in making the vestryman +understand him. It was not because the man was a Walloon who hardly +understood German, for Nikolas Rocherath of "Good Hope"--his house +having received that name because it could be seen a good distance off +in the Venn, it being the largest in the village--was a German, but +because he could not understand what the gentleman meant. + +What did he want with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre? Adopt him? He +looked quite puzzled at first, and then he got offended. No, even if he +was nothing but a simple peasant, he would not let the gentleman make a +fool of him. + +It was only by degrees that Schlieben could convince him that his +intentions were serious. But the old man still continued to rub his +stubbly chin doubtfully and cast suspicious glances at the lady and +gentleman, who had broken in on his solitude so unexpectedly. It was +only when Kate, wearied and tortured by the long explanation, +seized hold of his arm impatiently, and looking into his face cried +impetuously, almost angrily, "For goodness' sake do understand. We have +no child, but we want a child--now do you understand it?"--that he +understood. + +No child--oh dear! No child! Then people do not know what they are +living for. Now he nodded comprehendingly, and, casting a compassionate +look at the lady who was so rich, so finely dressed and still had no +children, he became much more approachable. So they were so pleased +with Lisa Solheid's Jean-Pierre that they wanted to take him to Berlin +with them? How lucky the boy was. Lisa would not be able to believe it. +But nobody would begrudge her it. Nobody in Longfaye was as poor as +she; many a day she did not know how to get sufficient food for herself +and her five. Formerly, whilst her husband was alive---- + +What, her husband was not alive? She was a widow? Paul Schlieben +interrupted the vestryman, and drew a long breath as though of relief. +Although he had never spoken of it, he had always had a secret fear of +the father: if he turned out to be a drunkard or a ne'er-do-well? A +load fell from his mind now--he was dead, he could not do any more +harm. Or had he died of an illness after all, of a wasting disease that +is handed down to children and children's children? He had been told +that the mists on the Venn and the sudden changes in the temperature +may easily be injurious to the lungs and throat--added to that hard +work and bad food--surely the young man had not died of consumption? He +asked the question anxiously. + +But Nikolas Rocherath laughed. No, Michel Solheid had never known a +day's illness all his life, and had not died of any illness. He had +worked at the machine factory at Verviers, covered with black soot and +naked to the waist. Cold and heat had had no effect on him. And +he used to come over from Verviers every Saturday and spend Sunday with +his family. And it had been the Saturday before the festival of St. +Peter and St. Paul somewhat over a year ago now, and Michel had bought +his wife a side of bacon and one or two pounds of coffee for the money +he had earned for overtime. + +"You must know, sir, everything is much too dear for us here, and it +is much cheaper on the other side of the frontier," said the old man in +a troubled voice; then, raising his fist slowly, he shook it at the +Venn that lay there so peaceful and remote from the world. "But they +were soon on his tracks. They came after him from the Baraque--the +accursed douaniers. Three, four of them. Now you must know that Michel +could run as well as any of them. If he had thrown his parcel behind a +bush and run, they would never have caught him. But no, he would not, +he would have felt ashamed of himself if he had done so. So in order +not to let them know where he was going, he ran to the left through the +Walloon Venn in the direction of Hill instead of to the right. Then on +through Clefay and Neckel,[A] and so on in all directions, and in this +manner he got away from the neighbourhood he knew as well as he knew +his own pocket. They were close at his heels above the Pannensterz. And +they ran after him calling out 'Stop!' + + + +[Footnote A: Wooded districts in the High Venn.] + + + +"Look you, sir, if he had run into the Great Haard then and hidden +in the thicket there, they would never have found him without a dog. +But he lost his head, and ran out of the bushes straight across the +Venn. + +"'Halt!--Stop!'--and a third time 'Halt!' But he bounded along like +a stag. Then one of them pulled his trigger and--Jesus Christ have +mercy upon us, now and at the hour of our death!"--the vestryman +devoutly made the sign of the cross and then wiped his nose with the +back of his hand--"the shot pierced the side of bacon and went into his +back, in from behind, out at the front. Then Solheid turned a +somersault. It was a shame. Such a fine fellow, for a side of bacon. + +"He still lived for over an hour. He told them that he was Solheid +from Longfaye, and that they should fetch his wife. + +"I was just cutting my hedge that day, when somebody came running +up. And I started off with Lisa, who was six months gone with +Jean-Pierre at the time. But when we came there it was already too +late. + +"They had left him lying not far from the large cross. They had +wanted to carry him to a house at Ruitzhof, but he had said 'Leave me. +I'll die here.' And he gazed at the sun. + +"Sir, it was as large and red in the sky that day--as large--as it +will be on the Day of Judgment. Sir, he was bathed in sweat and +blood--they had chased him for hours--but he still enjoyed gazing at +the sun. + +"Sir, the fellow who had shot him was almost out of his mind; he +held him on his knees and wept. Sir, no,"--the vestryman gave himself a +shake and his gestures expressed the aversion he felt--"I would not +like to be a douanier!" + +The old man's voice had grown deeper and hoarser--it was a sign of +the sympathy he felt--now it got its former even-tempered ring again. +"If it's agreeable to you, ma'am, we'll go now." + +"Oh, the child, the poor child," whispered Kate, quite shaken. + +"Do you think the widow will part with her youngest child?" asked +Paul Schlieben, seized with a sudden fear. This child that had +been born after its father's death--was it possible? + +"Oh!" the old man rocked his head to and fro and chuckled. "If you +give a good sum for it. She has enough of them." + +Nikolas Rocherath was quite the peasant again now; it was no longer +the same man who had spoken of the sun in the Venn and Solheid's death. +The point now was to get as much out of these people as possible, to +fleece a stranger and a townsman into the bargain to the best of his +ability. + +"Hundred thalers would not be too much to ask," he said, blinking +sideways at the gentleman's grave face. What a lot of money he must +have, why, not a muscle of his face had moved. + +The old peasant had been used to haggling all his life when trading +in cattle, now he gazed at the strange gentleman full of admiration for +such wealth. He led the way to Solheid's cottage with alacrity. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Like all the houses in the village, the Solheids' cottage stood quite +alone behind a hedge that reached as high as the gable. But the hedge, +which was to protect it against the storms that raged in the Venn and +the heavy snowdrifts, was not thick any longer; you could see that +there was no man's hand there to take care of it. The hornbeams had +shot up irregularly; dead branches lashed by the wind from the Venn +stretched themselves in the air like accusing fingers. + +Ugh, it must be icy cold there in the winter. Kate involuntarily +drew her cloak of soft cloth lined with silk more tightly round her. +And it must be doubly dark there on dark days. Hardly any light found +its way through the tiny windows owing to the protecting hedge, and the +roof hung low over the entrance. There were no steps, you walked +straight into the room. + +The vestryman rattled the iron knocker on the door, which had once +been painted green but had no colour left now. The sound reverberated +through the building, but the door did not open when they tried it. The +woman was probably among the berries, and the children with her. The +hungry screams of the youngest one was all that was heard inside the +locked cottage. + +The poor child--oh, she had left it alone again. Kate trembled with +excitement, its screams sounded to her like a call for help. + +The vestryman sat down calmly on the chopping-block in front of the +door and drew his pipe out of the pocket of his blue linen smock, which +he had hastily drawn over his working coat in honour of the lady and +the gentleman. Now they would have to wait. + +The husband and wife looked at each other much disappointed. Wait? +Kate had refused the seat on the chopping-block, which the old man had +offered her with a certain gallantry. She could not rest, she walked +restlessly up and down in front of the little window, trying in vain to +look through the dark pane. + +The child inside screamed more and more loudly. Old Rocherath +laughed: what a roar that was to be sure, Jean-Pierre had powerful +lungs. + +Kate could not listen to the screams any longer, they tortured her +both bodily and mentally. Oh, how they made her ears tingle. She +covered them with her hands. And her heart trembled with compassion and +anger: how could its mother remain away so long? + +Her brow was wet with perspiration. She stared at the Venn, at the +bare, treeless, tortuous path with burning impatient eyes. At last she +saw some figures--at last!--and yet her breath stopped all at once, her +heart ceased to beat and then suddenly went hammering on at a furious +pace as if mad. There came the child's mother! + +Lisa Solheid was carrying a bundle of fagots on her back, which was +fastened round her shoulders with a rope The load was so heavy that it +quite weighed her down, bending her head forward. Three children--their +small feet in clumsy shoes with big nails in them--stamped along in +front of their mother, whilst a fourth was clinging to her skirt. It +had also been looking for cranberries, and its little hands were +coloured red like those of its older sister and brothers, who were +carrying pails, measure and comb. + +Pretty children, all four of them. They had the same dark eyes as +little Jean-Pierre, and they stared with them half boldly, half timidly +at the strange lady who was smiling at them. + +The woman did not recognise the lady and gentleman again who had +given her a present in the Venn the day before--or did she only pretend +not to? + +The rope which had kept the bundle together had cut deep into her +shoulders and bosom, now she undid it and threw off the burden with a +powerful jerk; and then, seizing hold of the axe lying near the +chopping-block, she began to chop up a couple of big branches with +powerful strokes. + +"Hallo, Lisa," said the vestryman, "when you have chopped sufficient +wood to cook the cranberries, just wait a bit." + +She looked up at him for a moment. The strange lady and gentleman +had gone a little aside--without previous arrangement. Let the +vestryman tell her first. It was not so simple a matter as they had +imagined. She was not very approachable. + +Not a feature changed in the woman's reserved face; she went on with +her work in silence, her lips compressed. The wood was split up by +means of her powerful blows, and the pieces flew around her. Was she +listening at all to what the man was saying to her? + +Yes--the spectators exchanged a hasty glance--and now she was +answering too in a more lively manner than they would have supposed, +judging from her sullen appearance. + +Lisa Solheid raised her arm and pointed to the cottage in which the +little one was still screaming. Her speech--an almost barbaric +dialect--sounded rough, they understood nothing of it except a French +word here and there. The vestryman spoke Walloon too. Both of them +became excited, raised their voices and spoke to each other in a +loud voice; it sounded almost like quarrelling. + +They did not seem to agree. Kate listened in suppressed terror. +Would she give it? Would he get it from her? + +She pulled her husband's sleeve when nobody was looking. "Offer +more, give her some more, a hundred thalers is much too little." And he +must also promise the peasant something for his trouble. A hundred, two +hundred, three hundred, a hundred times a hundred would not be too +much. Oh, how the poor child was screaming. She could hardly bear to +stand outside the door doing nothing any longer. + +Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers--a beautiful girl with +untidy hair and three younger brothers--stood with their fingers in +their mouths, their dirty noses unwiped, and did not move from the +spot. + +Their mother spoke to them angrily, "Off with you!" And they darted +off, one almost tumbling over another. They scraped the key out of the +little hole under the door, and the biggest of them thrust it into the +rusty lock, and, standing on her toes, turned it with all the strength +of her small hands. + +Then the woman turned to the strange lady and gentleman; she made a +gesture of invitation with her thin right hand: "Entrez." + +They stepped in. It was so low inside that Paul Schlieben had to +bend his head so as not to knock against the beams in the ceiling, and +so dark that it took a considerable time before they could distinguish +anything at all. It could not have been poorer anywhere--one single +room in all. The hearth was formed of unhewn stones roughly put +together, above it hung the kettle in an iron chain that was made fast +to the blackened beam; the smoke from the smouldering peat ascended +into the wide sooty chimney. A couple of earthenware plates in the +plate-rack--cracked but with gay-coloured flowers on them--a couple of +dented pewter vessels, a milk-pail, a wooden tub, a long bench behind +the table, on the table half a loaf of bread and a knife, a few clothes +on some nails, the double bed built half into the wall, in which the +widow no doubt slept with the children now, and little Jean-Pierre's +clumsy wooden cradle in front of it--that was all. + +Really all? Kate looked round, shivering a little in the cold dark +room that was as damp as a cellar. Oh, how poor and comfortless. There +were no ornaments, nothing to decorate it. Oh yes, there was a +glaringly gaudy picture of the Virgin Mary--a coarse colour-print on +thin paper--a vessel for holy water made of white china beneath it, and +there on the other wall close to the window so that the sparse light +fell on it the picture of a soldier. A framed and glazed picture in +three divisions; the same foot-soldier taken three times. To the +left, shouldering his arms, on guard before the black and white +sentry-box--to the right, ready to march with knapsack and cooking +utensils strapped on his back, bread-bag and field-flask at his +side, gun at his feet--in the centre, in full dress uniform as a +lance-corporal, with his hand to his helmet saluting. + +That was no doubt the man, Michel Solheid as a soldier. Kate cast a +timid glance at the picture--that man had been shot in the Venn whilst +smuggling. How terrible! She heard the old man tell the story once +more, saw the bleeding man lying in the heather, and the horror of his +tragic end made her shudder. Her glance fell on the picture again and +again, the usual picture of a soldier which told nothing whatever in +its stereotyped inanity, and then on little Jean-Pierre's cradle. Did +he resemble his father much? + +Paul Schlieben had expected his wife to speak--she would of course +know best what to say to the other woman--but she was silent. And the +vestryman did not say anything either; as he had started the +negotiations he considered it polite to let the gentleman speak now. +And Lisa Solheid was also silent. All she did was to drive away the +children, who wanted to fall upon the hard bread on the table with +ravenous appetites, with a silent gesture. Then she stood quietly +beside the cradle, her right hand, which still held the axe with which +she had cut the wood, hanging loosely by her side. Her face was gloomy, +forbidding, and still a struggle was reflected on it. + +Paul Schlieben cleared his throat. He would have preferred some +other person to have settled the matter for him, but, as this other +person was not there and the vestryman only looked at him expectantly, +he was compelled to speak. With an affability which might have been +taken for condescension but which was nothing but embarrassment he +said: "Frau Solheid, the vestryman will have told you what has brought +us to you--do you understand me, my good woman?" + +She nodded. + +"It's our intention to take your youngest child away with us"--he +hesitated, for she had made a movement as though she wanted to deny +it--"as our own, to adopt it. Do you understand?" + +She did not answer, but he continued with as much haste as if she +had said yes. "We will treat it as if it really were our own. We shall +be able to do more for it than you would, of course, and we----" + +"Oh, and we'll love it so," his wife broke in. + +The black-eyed woman turned her head slowly to the side where the +fair-haired lady was standing. It was a peculiar look with which she +scanned the stranger, who had now approached the cradle. Was it +a scrutinising look or a forbidding one? A friendly or unfriendly +one? + +Kate looked at the child with longing eyes. It was no longer crying, +it even smiled, and now--now it stretched out its little arms. Oh, it +was already so intelligent, it was looking at her, it noticed already +that she was fond of it. It tried to get up--oh, it wanted to go to +her, to her! + +Her face flushed with joy. She had already stretched out her hands +to take the child, when its mother pushed herself in front of the +cradle like a wall. + +"Neni,"[A] she said in Walloon, in a hard voice. She raised her +empty left hand to ward Kate off. And then she made the sign of the +cross on the child's forehead and then on its breast. + + + +[Footnote A: Non.] + + + +But why, why would she not give it all at once? Kate trembled with +dismay. She cast an imploring look at her husband, as much as to say: +"Help me. I must have the child." + +And then her husband said what he wanted to say before when his wife +had cut him short: "We will secure your child's future. Do you know +what that means, my good woman? It will never have to trouble about its +daily bread--never have to hunger. Never have to work to prolong its +life--only work for the pleasure of working. Do you understand?" + +Work--for the pleasure of working? The woman shook her head, she did +not understand him. But then the words came into her mind: never +hunger!--and a light shone in her dull eyes. Never hunger--ah, the +woman understood that; and still she shook her head again: "Neni!" + +She pointed to herself and the other children, and then to the great +Venn outside with a comprehensive gesture: + +"Nos avans tortos faim."[A] She shrugged her shoulders with the +equanimity of one who is accustomed to it, and it even looked as though +she wanted to smile; the corners of her sullen mouth did not droop +quite so much, her lips that were generally tightly closed showed her +strong healthy teeth. + +The vestryman stepped in now: "'Pon my word, Lisa, to hunger is +surely no pleasure. Good heavens, how can you be so foolish! The child +will be taken from hell to heaven. Remember what I've told you, the +lady and gentleman are rich, very rich, and they are mad on the +child--quick, give it to them, you still have four." + +Still four! She nodded reflectively, but then she threw her head +back, and a look--now it was plain, something like hatred flickered in +it--flew to the others standing there so rich, so fine, with rings on +their ringers, and at whom her Jean-Pierre was peeping. "Neni!" She +repeated it once more and still more curtly and more obstinately than +before. + +But the vestryman was tenacious, he knew the people he had to deal +with. "You must think it over," he said persuasively. "And they'll give +you a good sum, I tell you--won't you?" he asked, turning to the +gentleman. "Haven't you said you weren't particular to a coin or two +in the case of such a poor woman?" + +"No, certainly not," assured Paul. And Kate was too precipitate +again. "It does not matter at all to us--we will gladly give what she +asks--oh, the dear child!" + +"Dju n' vous nin,"[B] muttered the woman. + + + +[Footnote A: Nous avons tous faim.] + +[Footnote B: Je ne veux pas.] + + + +"You won't? Oh, nonsense." The old peasant almost laughed at her. +"You are just like my Mayflower when she won't stand, and kicks the +milk-pail with her hind foot. Don't offend the people. What advantage +will it be to you if they grow impatient and go away? None at +all. Then you will have five who call out for bread, and the winter is +near at hand. Do you want to have such a winter as you had last +year? Didn't Jean-Pierre almost die of cold? The four others are +already older, it's easier to rear them. And you can get a cow for +yourself--just think of that, a cow. And you could have a better roof +put on the house, which won't let the rain and the snow come through, +and could have enough cranberries as well. It would certainly be a good +stroke of business, Lisa." + +Kate wanted to add something more--oh, what a lot of good she would +do the woman, if she would only give the child to her!--but the old man +cleared his throat and winked at her covertly to warn her that she was +to be silent. + +"Kubin m'e dinroz--ve?"[A] inquired the woman all at once. + + + +[Footnote A: Combien me donnerez-vous donc?] + + + +She had been standing undecided for a long time with her head bowed, +and a deep silence had reigned around her. The strange lady and +gentleman had not moved, nor had the vestryman; no wind had whistled in +the chimney, no fire crackled. A silent expectation weighed on them +all. Now she raised her head, and her gloomy eyes glanced at the +miserable room, the small quantity of bread on the table and then at +the hungry four, as though examining everything. She no longer looked +at the fifth child. She had grown pale, the deep sunburn on her face +had turned a greyish colour. + +"What's he going to give you? Well, what will you give her?" said the +peasant encouragingly. "I think you'll see that two hundred is too +little. The woman is very much attached to the child, it will not be +easy for her to give it up." He watched Paul Schlieben out of the +corner of his eye, and called out as they call out at an auction: "Two +hundred, two hundred and fifty, three hundred. 'Pon my word, it +isn't too much. Jean-Pierre is a fine boy--just look at his fists. And +his thighs. A splendid fellow." He noticed the longing expression in +Kate's eyes--"Three hundred thalers is not worth talking about for the +boy, is it, ma'am?" + +Kate had tears in her eyes and was very pale. The air in the cottage +oppressed her, it was all very repugnant to her--let them only get away +quickly from there. But not without the child. "Four hundred--five +hundred," she jerked out, and she gazed imploringly at her husband as +though to say: "Do settle it quickly." + +"Five hundred, willingly." Paul Schlieben drew out his pocket-book. + +The peasant craned his neck forward the better to see. His eyes were +quite stiff in his head, he had never seen anybody pay so willingly +before. The children, too, stared with wide-open eyes. + +The woman cast a hasty glance at the notes the gentleman spread on +the table near the bread; but the covetous light that flashed in her +eyes disappeared suddenly again. "Neni," she said sullenly. + +"Offer her some more--more," whispered the old man. + +And Schlieben laid another couple of notes on the table beside the +others; his fingers trembled a little as he did it, the whole thing was +so unspeakably repugnant to him. He had never thought of haggling; they +should have what they wanted, only let them get done with it. + +Nikolas Rocherath could not contain himself any longer at the sight +of such generosity--so much money on the table, and that woman could +still hesitate? He rushed up to her and shook her by the shoulders: +"Are you quite mad? Six hundred thalers on the table and you don't take +them? What man here can say he has six hundred thalers in cash? What +money, what a sum of money!" His emaciated face, which had grown very +haggard from years of toil and a life lived in wind and storm +and which was as sharply outlined as though cut out of hard wood, +twitched. His fingers moved convulsively: how was it possible that +anybody could still hesitate? + +The axe which the woman still held fell out of her hand with a loud +noise. Without raising her head, without looking at the table or at the +cradle she said in a loud voice--but there was no ring in the voice: +"Allons bon. Djhan-Pire est da vosse."[A] + + + +[Footnote A: Eh bien. Jean-Pierre est a vous.] + + + +And she turned away, walked to the hearth with a heavy tread and +raked up the smouldering peat. + +What indifference! This woman certainly did not deserve to be a +mother. Kate's gentle eyes began to blaze. Schlieben was angry too; no, +they need not have any scruples about taking the child away from there. +He was filled with disgust. + +The woman behaved now as though the whole affair did not concern her +any longer. She busied herself at the hearth whilst the vestryman +counted the notes--licking his fingers repeatedly and examining both +sides of each one--and then put them carefully into the envelope which +the gentleman had given him. + +"There they are, Lisa, put them into your pocket." + +She tore them out of his hand with a violent gesture, and, lifting +up her dress to a good height, she slipped them into her miserable +ragged petticoat. + +The last thing had still to be settled. Even if Paul Schlieben felt +certain that nobody there would inquire about the child any more, +the formalities had to be observed. Loosening his pencil from his +watch-chain--for where was ink to come from there?--he drew up the +mother's deed of surrender on a leaf from his pocketbook. The vestryman +signed it as witness. Then the woman put her three crosses +below; she had learnt to write once, but had forgotten it again. + +"There!" Paul Schlieben rose from the hard bench on which he had sat +whilst writing with a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, now everything +was settled, now the vestryman had only to procure him the birth and +baptismal certificates and send them to him. "Here--this is my address. +And here--this is for any outlay." He covertly pressed a couple of gold +coins into the old man's hand, who smiled when he felt them there. + +Well, now they would take the boy with them at once? he +supposed. + +Kate, who had been standing motionless staring at the mother with +big eyes as though she could not understand what she saw, woke up. Of +course they would take the child with them at once, she would not leave +it a single hour longer there. And she took it quickly out of the +cradle, pressed it caressingly to her bosom and wrapped it up in the +warm wide cloak she was wearing. Now it was her child that she had +fought such a hard battle for, had snatched from thousands of dangers, +her darling, her sweet little one. + +Little Jean-Pierre's sister and brothers stood there in silence with +eyes wide open. Had they understood that their brother was going away, +going for ever? No, they could not have understood it, otherwise they +would have shown how grieved they were. Their big eyes were only +interested in the bread on the table. + +Paul Schlieben pitied the little ones greatly--they would remain +there in their wretchedness, their hunger, their poverty. He stuck a +present into the hands of all four. None of the four thanked him for +it, but their small fingers clasped the money tightly. + +The woman did not thank him either. When the strange lady took +Jean-Pierre out of the cradle--she had seen it without looking +in that direction--she had started. But now she stood motionless near +the empty cradle, on the spot where the axe had fallen out of her right +hand before with a loud noise, looking on in silence whilst Jean-Pierre +was being wrapped up in the soft cloak. She had nothing to give +him. + +Paul Schlieben had feared there would be a scene at the very last in +spite of the mother's indifference--she surely could not remain so +totally void of feeling, when they carried her youngest child away +with them?--but the woman remained calm. She stood there motionless, +her left hand pressed against the place in her skirt where she +felt the pocket. Did not that money in her pocket--Paul felt very +disturbed--give the lie to all the traditions about a mother's love? +And still--the woman was so demoralised by her great poverty, half +brutalised in the hard struggle for her daily bread, that even the +feeling she had for the child she had borne had vanished. Oh, what a +different mother Kate would be to the child now. And he pushed his +wife, who had the little one in her arms, towards the door, in his +tender anxiety for her. + +Let them only get away, it was not a nice place to be in. + +They hastened away. Kate turned her head once more when she reached +the threshold. She would have to cast a glance at the woman who +remained behind so stiff and silent. Even if she were incomprehensible +to her, a compassionate glance was her due. + +Then ... a short cry, but loud, penetrating, terrible in its +brevity, a cry that went through nerve and bone. One single +inarticulate cry that agony and hatred had wrung from her. + +The woman had stooped down. She had snatched up the axe with which +she had chopped the wood. She raised her arm as though to throw +something--the sharp edge flashed past the lady's head as she hurried +away, and buried itself in the door-post with a crash. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +They had hastened away with the child as though they were running away. +They had bundled it into the carriage--quick, quick--the coachman had +whipped up the horses, the wheels had turned round with a creaking +noise. The village in the Venn remained behind them, buried like a bad +dream one wants to forget. + +A dull grey lay over the Venn. The sun, which had been shining in +the morning, had quite disappeared, as though not a single beam had +ever been seen there. The Venn mist, which rises so suddenly, was there +covering everything. There was a wall now where there had been a wide +outlook before. A wall not of stone and not of bricks, but much +stronger. It did not crack, it did not burst, it did not totter, it did +not give way before the hammer wielded by the strongest hand. It shaped +itself out of the morasses, powerful and impenetrable, and stretched +from the moor up to the clouds--or was it the clouds that had lowered +themselves to the earth? + +The heavens and the Venn, both alike. Nothing but grey, a tough, +damp, cold, liquid and still firm, unfathomable, mysterious, awful +grey. A grey from which those who lose themselves on the moor never +find their way out. The mist is too tenacious. It has arms that grip, +that embrace so tightly, that one can neither see forward nor backward +any more, neither to the left nor to the right, that the cry +that wants to escape from a throat that is well-nigh choked with terror +is drowned, and that the eye becomes blind to every road, every +footprint. + +The driver cursed and beat his horses. There was nothing more to be +seen of the road, nothing whatever, no ditch at the side of it, no +telegraph poles, no small rowan trees. The broad road that had been +made with such difficulty had disappeared in the grey that enfolded the +Venn. It was fortunate that the horses had not lost their way as yet. +They followed their noses, shook their long tails, neighed shrilly and +trotted courageously into the sea of mist. + +Kate shuddered as she wrapped herself and the child up more tightly; +they required all the warm covering now which they had taken with them +so providently. Her husband packed her up still more securely, and then +laid his arm round her as though to protect her. It was a terrible +journey. + +They had had the carriage closed, but the cold grey forced its way +in notwithstanding. It penetrated through all the crevices, through the +window-panes, filled the space inside so that their faces swam in the +damp twilight like pale spots, and laid itself heavily, obstructively +on their breath. + +Kate coughed and then trembled. There was no joy in her heart now, +all she felt was terror, terror on account of the possession she had +had to fight so hard to obtain. If the mother were to come after them +now--oh, that terrible woman with the glittering axe. She closed +her eyes tightly, full of a horror she had never felt the like to +before--oh, she could not see it again! And still she opened her eyes +wide once more, and felt the cold perspiration on her brow and her +heart trembling--alas, that sight would pursue her even in her dreams. +She would not get rid of it until her last hour--never, never +again--she would always see that woman with the glittering axe. + +It had whizzed close past her head--the draught of air caused by it +had made the hair on her temples tremble. It had done nothing to her, +it had only buried itself in the door-post with a loud noise, splitting +it. And still she had come to harm. Kate pressed both her hands to her +temples in horror: she would never, never get rid of that fear. + +Her heart was filled with an almost superstitious dread, a dread as +though of a ghost that haunted the place. Let them only get away from +there, never to return. Let them only destroy every trace as they went +along. That woman must never know where they had gone. She knew +it was to Berlin--they had unfortunately given the vestryman their +address--but Berlin was so far away, the woman from the Venn would +never come there. + +And the Venn itself? Ugh! Kate looked out into the grey mist, +trembling with horror. Thank God, that would remain behind, that would +soon be forgotten again. How could she ever have considered this +desolate Venn beautiful? She could not understand it. What charm was +there about these inhospitable plains, on which nothing could grow +except the coarse grass and tough heather? On which no corn waved its +spikes, no singing-bird piped its little song, no happy people lived +sociably; where there was, in short, no brightness, no loud tones, only +the silence of the dead and crosses along the road. It was awful +there. + +"Paul, let us leave to-day--as quickly as possible," she jerked out, +full of terror, whilst her eyes sought in vain for a glimpse of +light. + +He was quite willing. He felt ill at ease too. If this woman, this +fury, had hit his wife in her sudden outburst of rage? But he +could not help blaming himself: who had bade him have anything to do +with such people? They were not a match for such barbarous folk. + +And he was seized with a feeling of aversion for the child sleeping +so peacefully on his wife's arm. He looked gloomily at the little face; +would he ever be able to love it? Would not the memory of its +antecedents always deter him from liking it? Yes, he had been too +precipitate. How much better it would have been if he had dissuaded his +wife from her wish, if he had energetically opposed her romantic idea +of adopting this child, this particular child. + +He frowned as he looked out of the window, whilst the grey mist +clung to the pane and ran down it in large drops. + +The wind howled outside; it had risen all at once. And it howled +still louder the nearer they approached the top of the high Venn, +whined round their carriage like an angry dog and hurled itself against +the horses' chests. The horses had to fight against it, to slacken +their trot; the carriage only advanced with difficulty. + +The child must never, never know from whence it came, as +otherwise--the new father was wrapped in thought as he stared into the +Venn, whose wall of mist was now and then torn asunder by a furious +gust of wind--as otherwise--what was he going to say? He passed his +hand over his brow and drew his breath heavily. Something like fear +crept over him, but he did not know why. + +As he cast a look at his wife, he saw that she was quite absorbed in +the contemplation of the sleeping child, which did not lessen his ill +humour. He drew away her right hand, with which she was supporting its +head that had fallen back: "Don't do that, don't tire yourself like +that. It will sleep on even without that." And as she gave an anxious +"Hush!" terrified at the thought that the little sleeper might +have been disturbed, he said emphatically, "I must tell you one thing, +my child, and must warn you against it, don't give him your whole heart +at once--wait a little first." + +"Why?" Something in his voice struck her and she looked at him in +surprise. "Why do you say that so--so--well, as if you were vexed?" +Then she laughed in happy forgetfulness. "Do you know--yes, it was +horrible, awful in those surroundings--but thank God, now it's over. A +mother forgets all she has suffered at the birth of her child so +quickly--why should I not forget those horrors to-day too? Do +look"--and she stroked little Jean-Pierre's warm rosy cheek carefully +and caressingly as he slept--"how innocent, how lovely. I am so happy. +Come, do be happy too, Paul, you are generally so very kind. And now +let's think about what we are to call the boy"--her voice was very +tender--"our boy." + +They no longer heard the wind that had increased to a storm by now. +They had so much to consider. "Jean-Pierre," no, that name should not +be kept in any case. And they would go from Spa to Cologne that +evening, as they would not dare to engage a nurse before they were +there; not a single person there would have any idea about the Venn, of +course. And they would also buy all the things they required for the +child in Cologne as soon as possible. + +How were they to get on until then? Paul looked at his wife quite +anxiously: she knew nothing whatever about little children. But she +laughed at him and gave herself airs: when Providence gives you +something to do, it also gives you the necessary understanding. And +this little darling was so good, he had not uttered a sound since they +left. He had slept the whole time as though there was nothing called +hunger or thirst, as though there was nothing but her heart on +which he felt quite at ease. + +It gradually became more comfortable in the carriage. It seemed as +though a beneficial warmth streamed forth from the child's body, as it +rested there so quietly. The breath of life ascended from its strong +little chest that rose and fell so regularly; the joy of life glowed in +its cheeks that were growing redder and redder; the blessings of life +dropped from those tiny hands that it had clenched in its sleep. The +woman mused in silence and with bated breath as she gazed at the child +in her lap, and the man, who felt strangely moved, took its tiny fist +in his large hand and examined it, smiling. Yes, now they were +parents. + +But outside the carriage the air was full of horrors. It is only in +the wild Venn that there can be such storms in autumn. Summer does not +depart gently and sadly there, winter does not approach with soft, +stealthy steps, there is no mild preparatory transition. The bad +weather sets in noisily there, and the warmth of summer changes +suddenly into the icy cold of winter. The storm whistles so fiercely +across the brown plateau that the low heather bends still lower and the +small juniper trees make themselves still smaller. The wind in the Venn +chases along whistling and shrieking, clamouring and howling, pries +into the quagmires and turf pits, whips up the muddy puddles, throws +itself forcibly into the thickets of fir trees that have just been +replanted, so that they groan and moan and creak as they cower, and +then rages on round the weather-worn crosses. + +The blast roars across the moor like the sound of an organ or is it +like the roar of the foaming breakers? No, there is no water there that +rises and falls and washes the beach with its white waves, there is +nothing but the Venn; but it resembles the sea in its wide expanse. +And its air is as strong as the air that blows from the sea, and +the shrill scream of its birds is like the scream of the sea-mew, and +nature plays--here as there--the song of her omnipotence on the organ +of the storm with powerful touch. + +The small carriage crept over the top of the high Venn. The winds +wanted to blow it down, as though it were a tiny beetle. They hurled +themselves against it, more and more furiously, yelped and howled as +though they were wolves, whined round its wheels, snuffed round its +sides, made a stand against it in front and tugged at it from behind as +though with greedy teeth: away with it! And away with those sitting +inside it! Those intruders, those thieves, they were taking something +away with them that belonged to the Venn, to the great Venn alone. + +It was a struggle. Although the driver lashed away at them the brave +horses shied, then remained standing, snorting with terror. The man was +obliged to jump off and lead them some distance, and still they +continued to tremble. + +Something rose out of the pits and beckoned with waving gauzy +garments, and tried to hold fast with moist arms. There was a +snatching, a catching, a reaching, a tearing asunder of mists and a +treacherous rolling together again, a chaos of whirling, twirling, +brewing grey vapours; and plaintive tones from beings that could not be +seen. + +Had all those in the graves come to life again? Were those rising +who had slept there, wakened by the snorting of the horses and the +crack of the whip, indignant at being disturbed in their rest? What +were those sounds? + +The quiet Venn had become alive. Piercing sounds and whistling +shrill cries and groaning and the flapping of wings and +indignant screams mingled with the dull roar of the organ of the +storm. + +A flight of birds swam through the sea of mist. They rowed to the +right, they rowed to the left, looked down uneasily at the strange +carriage, remained poised above it for some moments with wings spread +out ready to strike it to the ground, and then uttered their cry, the +startled, penetrating cry of a wild bird. There was nothing triumphant +about it to-day--it sounded like a lamentation. + +And the Venn wept. Large drops fell from the mist. The mist itself +turned into tears, to slowly falling and then to rushing, streaming, +never-ending tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The Schliebens had reached Berlin safely. Kate was exhausted when she +got out of the train; her hair was untidy, she did not look quite so +smart as usual. It had been no trifle to make that long journey with +the child. But they had been fortunate hi finding a good nurse so +quickly in Cologne--a widow, fond of children and experienced, a +typical, comfortable-looking nurse; however, the mother had had enough +to see to all the same. Had the child caught cold, or did it not like +its bottle? It had cried with all the strength of its lungs--no +carrying about, rocking, dandling, singing to it had been of any +avail--it had cried with all its might the whole way to Berlin. + +But, thank goodness, now they were at home. And everything was +arranged as quickly as if by magic. True, the comfortable house they +had had before was let, but there was villa after villa in the +Grunewald, and, as they required so much more room now, they moved into +one of those. They rented it to begin with. Later on they would no +doubt buy it, as it was quite impossible to take a child like this one +into a town. It would have to have a garden. + +They called him Wolfgang. "Wolf" had something so concise, vigorous, +energetic about it, and--Kate gave a slight happy shudder as she +thought of it--it was like a secret memory of the Venn, of that +desolate spot over which they had triumphed, and to which they made +only this slight concession. And did not "Woelfchen"--if they made +that the diminutive of Wolf--sound extremely affectionate? + +"Woelfchen"--the young mother said it about a hundred times every +day. + +The young mother? Oh yes, Kate felt young. Her child had made her +young again, quite young. Nobody would have taken her for thirty-five, +and she herself least of all. How she could run, how she could fly +upstairs when they said: "The child is awake. It's screaming for its +bottle." + +She, who had formerly spent so many hours on the sofa, never found a +moment's time to lie down the whole day; she slept all the more soundly +at night as a result. It was quite true what she had heard other women +say: a little child claims its mother's whole attention. Oh, how empty, +colourless those days had been in which she had only existed. It was +only now that there was meaning, warmth, brilliancy in her life. + +She walked every day beside the child's perambulator, which the +nurse pushed, and it was a special pleasure to her to wheel the light +little carriage with its white lacquer, gilt buttons and blue silk +curtains herself now and then. How the people stared and turned round +when they saw the handsome perambulator--no, the beautiful child. Her +heart beat with pleasure, and when her flattered ear caught the cries +of admiration, "What a fine child!" "How beautifully dressed!" "What +splendid eyes!"--it used to beat even more quickly, and a feeling of +blissful pride took possession of her, so that she walked along with +head erect and eyes beaming with happiness. Everybody took her to be +the mother, of course, the young child's young mother, the beautiful +child's beautiful mother. How often strangers had already +spoken to her of the likeness: "The exact image of you, Frau Schlieben, +only its hair is darker than yours." Then she had smiled every time and +blushed deeply. She could not tell the people that it really could not +resemble her at all. She hardly remembered herself now that not a drop +of her blood flowed in Woelfchen's veins. + +It looked at her the first thing when it awoke. Its little bed with +its muslin curtains stood near the nurse's, but its first look was for +its mother and also its last, for nobody knew how to sing it to sleep +as well as she did. + + "Sleep sound, sweetest child, + Yonder wind howls wild. + Hearken, how the rain makes sprays + And how neighbour's doggie bays. + Doggie has gripped the man forlorn + Has the beggar's tatter torn----" + +sounded softly and soothingly in the nursery evening after evening, +and little Wolf fell quietly asleep to the sound of it, to the song of +the wind and the rain round defenceless heads, and of beggars whose +garments the dog had torn. + +Paul Schlieben had no longer any cause to complain of his wife's +moods. Everything had changed; her health, too, had become new, as it +were, as though a second life had begun. And he himself? He felt much +more inclination for work now. Now that he had returned to business he +felt a pleasure he had never experienced before when he saw that they +were successful in their new ventures. He had never been enterprising +before--what was the good? He and his wife had ample for all their +requirements. Of course he had always been glad to hear when they had +done a good stroke of business, but he could not say it had ever +pleased him to make money. He had always found more pleasure in +spending it. + +His father had been quite different in that respect. He had never +been so easy-going, and as long as he lived he had always reproached +himself for having let his only son serve as a soldier in a cavalry +regiment. Something of a cavalryman's extravagance had clung to him, +which did not exactly agree with the views of the very respectable +well-to-do merchant of the middle class. And his daughter-in-law? Hm, +the old gentleman did not exactly approve of her either in his heart. +She had too much modern stuff in her head, and Paul had followed her +lead entirely. You could be cultured--why not?--and also take an +interest in art without necessarily having so little understanding for +the real things of life. + +This honest man, this merchant of the old stamp and true son of +Berlin, had not had the joy of seeing what his partners now saw with +unbounded astonishment. They had no need to shrug their shoulders at +the man's lack of interest in the business any longer, and make pointed +remarks about the wife who took up his attention so entirely; now he +felt the interest they wished him to have. He was pleased to fall in +with their plans now. He himself seemed to want, nay, even found it +necessary to form new connections, to extend the calm routine of their +business right and left, on all sides. He showed a capacity for +business and became practical all at once. And in the middle of his +calculations, whilst sitting absorbed at his desk, he would catch +himself thinking: "that will be of use to the boy in the future." But +at times this thought could irritate him so much that he would throw +down his pen and jump up angrily from his desk: no, he had only adopted +the child to please his wife, he would not love him. + +And yet when he came home to dinner on those delightful afternoons, +on which he could smell the pines round his house and the pure +air still more increased the appetite he had got from his strenuous +work, and the boy would toddle up to him patting his little stomach and +cry: "Daddy--eat--taste good," and Kate appear at the window, laughing, +he could not refrain from swinging the hungry little chatterbox high up +into the air, and only put him down on his feet again after he had +given him a friendly slap. He was a splendid little chap, and always +hungry. Well, he would always have sufficient to eat, thank God. + +A certain feeling of contentment would come over the man on those +occasions. He felt now what he had never felt before, that one's own +home means happiness. And he felt the benefit of having an assured +income, that allowed him to enrich his life with all sorts of comforts. +The house was pretty. But when he bought it shortly he would certainly +add to it, and buy the piece of ground next to it as well. It would be +extremely disagreeable if anybody settled down just under their +noses. + +It had been difficult for Paul to make up his mind to take a house +in the Grunewald at the time, after he had lived in Berlin itself as +long as he could remember. But now he looked upon his wife's idea of +going out there as a very good one. And not only for the child's sake. +One enjoyed one's home in quite a different manner out there; one +realised much more what it meant to have a home. And how much healthier +it was--one's appetite certainly became enormous. In time one would +think of nothing but material comforts. And the man followed the hungry +boy into the house, as he also felt quite ready for his dinner. + +Wolfgang Solheid, called Schlieben, received his first trousers. It +was a grand day for the whole house. Kate had him photographed in +secret, as there had never been a boy who looked prettier in +his first trousers. And she placed the picture of the little fellow who +was not yet three years old--white trousers, white pleated tunic, horse +under his arm, whip in his hand--in the middle of her husband's +birthday table, surrounded by a wreath of roses. That was the best she +could give him among all the many presents. How robust Woelfchen was. +They had not noticed it so much before; he was as big as a boy of four. +And how defiant he looked, as bold as a boy of five, who is already +dreaming of fighting other boys. + +The woman showed the man the picture full of delight, and there was +such a gleam in her eyes that he felt very happy. He thanked her many +times for the surprise and kissed her: yes, this picture should stand +near hers on his writing-table. And then they both played with the boy, +who romped about on the carpet in his first pair of trousers, which he +still found rather uncomfortable. + +Paul Schlieben could not remember ever having spent such a pleasant +birthday as this one. There was so much brightness around him, so much +merriment. And even if Wolf had torn his first pair of trousers by +noon--how and where it had been done was quite incomprehensible to the +dismayed nurse--that did not disturb the birthday; on the contrary, the +laughter became all the gayer. "Tear your trousers, my boy, tear away," +whispered his mother, smiling to herself as the damage was pointed out +to her, "just you be happy and strong." + +There was a party in the evening. The windows of the pretty villa +were lighted up and the garden as well. The air was balmy, the pines +spread their branches motionless under the starry sky, and bright +coloured lanterns glittered in the bushes and along the paths that were +overgrown with trees like large glow-worms. + +Woelfchen was asleep on the first floor of the villa, in the +only room that was not brightly lighted up. There was nothing but a +hanging lamp of opal there, and every noise was kept away by thick +curtains and Venetian blinds. But they drank his health downstairs. + +The guests had already drunk the health of the master of the house +at the table, and then that of his amiable wife--what greater honour +could they pay their popular host and hostess now than to drink the +health of the boy--their boy? + +Dr. Hofmann, the tried doctor and friend of the family for many +years, asked if he might have the privilege of saying a few words. +He, as doctor, as counsellor on many an occasion, was best able +to say what had always been wanting there. Everything had been +there, love and complete understanding and also outward happiness, +everything except--here he paused for a moment and nodded to his +hostess who was sitting opposite to him, in a friendly manner full of +comprehension--except a child's laughter. And now that was there too. + +"A child's laughter--oh, what a salvation!" he cried with twinkling +eyes and voice full of emotion, as he thought of his own three, who +were certainly already independent and had chosen their paths in life, +but their laughter still sounded in his heart and ear. + +"No child--no happiness. But a child brings happiness, great +happiness. And especially in this case. For I, as a doctor, have hardly +ever feasted my eyes on a more magnificent chest, a more splendidly +developed skull, straighter legs and brighter eyes. All his senses are +sharp; the lad hears like a lynx, sees like a falcon, smells like a +stag, feels--well, I've been told that he is already up in arms against +the slightest corporal punishment. It is only his taste that is not so +finely developed as yet--the boy eats everything. However, this is +again a new proof to me of his very great physical superiority, +for, ladies and gentlemen"--at this point the doctor gave a jovial +wink--"who does not agree with me? a good stomach that can stand +everything is the greatest gift a kind Providence can give us on our +journey through life. The boy is a favourite of fortune. A favourite of +fortune in the two-fold meaning of the word for not only is he +perfectly happy in himself, but his entry on the scene has also brought +happiness to those around him. Our dear hostess, for example, have we +ever seen her like this before? So young with those who are young, so +happy with those who are happy? And our honoured friend here--nobody +could imagine that he had climbed to the middle of the forties--he is +as full of energy, of plans and enterprise as a man of twenty. And at +the same time he has the beautiful calm, the comfortable appearance of +the happy father who has had his desires gratified. And this fortunate +boy is the cause of it all. Therefore thanks be to the hour that gave +him, the wind that brought him here. From whence----?" + +The doctor, who had a small vein of malice in his nature, here made +a pause intentionally, cleared his throat and straightened his +waistcoat, for he saw many curious eyes fixed on him full of +expectation. But he also saw the quick perturbed look the husband and +wife exchanged, saw that Frau Schlieben had grown pale and was hanging +anxiously, almost imploringly, on his lips, so he continued hastily +with a good-natured laugh: "From whence, ladies--only have patience. +I'll tell you now: he fell from the skies. Just as the falling star +falls to earth on a summer night. And our dear hostess, who was just +going for a walk, held out her apron and carried him home to her house. +And so he has become the star of this house, and we all and I +especially--even if I have become superfluous here in my capacity +of doctor--are pleased with him without asking from whence he came. +All good gifts come from above--we learnt that already in our +childhood--so here's to the health of the boy who fell down to our +friends from the sky." + +The doctor had grown serious, there was a certain solemnity about +him as he raised his champagne glass and emptied it: "God bless him! To +the health of the child, the son of the house. May this fortunate lad +grow, thrive and prosper." + +The finely cut glasses gave a clear and melodious sound as they +clinked them. There was a buzzing, laughter and cheering at the table, +so that the little fellow upstairs in his bed began to toss about +restlessly. He murmured impatiently in his sleep, pouted and lowered +his brow. + +The chairs were moved downstairs. The guests had risen, and, going +up to the parents, had shaken hands with them as though to congratulate +them. Dr. Hofmann had done that really very nicely, really exceedingly +well. But the little fellow was awfully sweet. All the women present +agreed they had rarely seen such a pretty child. + +Kate's heart had beaten a little anxiously when the doctor commenced +to speak--surely he would not betray what had only been confided to him +and the lawyer under the influence of a good glass of wine and a good +dinner?--but it was now full of happiness. Her eyes sought her +husband's, and sent him tender, grateful glances covertly. And then she +went to their old friend, the doctor, and thanked him for all his good, +kind words. "Also in Woelfchen's name," she said in a soft, cordial +voice. + +"So you are satisfied with me all the same? Well, I'm glad." He drew +her arm into his and walked up and down with her somewhat apart +from the others. "I saw, my dear lady, that you grew uneasy when I +began about the boy's antecedents. What kind of an opinion can you have +of me? But I did so intentionally, I have been burning to find +an opportunity to say what I did for a long time. Believe me, if +I got a two-shilling bit every time I've been questioned about the +boy's parentage--either openly or in a roundabout way--I should be a +well-to-do man by now. I've often felt annoyed at the questions; what I +said just now was the answer to them all. I trust they have understood +it. They can keep their surmises to themselves in the future." + +"Surmises?" Kate knit her brows and pressed the doctor's arm. What +did those people surmise?--did they already know something, did they +guess about the Venn? She was seized with a sudden terror. Pictures +passed before her mental vision with lightning speed--there in that +bright festive room--dark pictures of which she did not want to know +anything more. + +"How terrible," she said in a low voice that quivered. If the people +got to know anything, oh, then she did not put her thought into words, +for the sudden dread was almost choking her--then they would not get +rid of the past. Then that woman would come and demand her right, and +could not be shaken off any more. "Do you think," she whispered +hesitatingly, "do you think they--they guess--the truth?" + +"Oh no, they're very far off the mark," laughed the doctor, but then +he grew grave again directly. "My dear lady, let us leave those people +and their surmises alone." Oh dear, now he had meddled with a delicate +subject, he felt quite hot--what if she knew that they thought that her +Paul, that most faithful of husbands, had duties of a special kind +towards the child? + +"Surmises--oh, what is it they surmise?" She urged him to +tell her, whilst her eyes scrutinised his, full of terror. + +"Nonsense," he said curtly. "Why do you want to trouble about that? +But I told you and your husband that at once. If you make such a secret +of the boy's parentage, all kinds of interpretations will be placed on +it. Well, you would not hear of anything else." + +"No." Kate closed her eyes and gave a slight shudder. "He's our +child--our child alone," she said with a strange hardness in her voice. +"And nobody else has anything to do with him." + +He shook his head and looked at her questioningly, surprised at her +tone. + +Then she jerked out: "I'm afraid." + +He felt how the hand that was lying on his arm trembled +slightly. + +Amid the gaiety of the evening something had fallen on Kate's joy +that paralysed it, as it were. Many questions were asked her about +little Wolf--that was so natural, they showed her their friendly +interest by means of these questions--and they watched her quietly at +the same time: it was marvellous how she behaved. They had hardly +believed the delicate woman capable of such heroism. How much she must +love her husband, that she took his child--for the boy must be his +child, the resemblance was too marked, exactly the same features, the +same dark hair--this child of a weak hour to her heart without showing +any ill-will or jealousy. She, the childless woman, to take another +woman's child. That was grand, almost too grand. They did not +understand it quite. + +And Kate felt instinctively that there was something concealed +behind the questions they asked her--was it admiration or compassion, +approval or disapproval?--something one could not get hold of, not even +name, only suspect. And that embarrassed her. So she only gave +reserved answers to their friendly questions about Woelfchen, was +concise in what she told them, cool in her tone, and still she could +not hinder her voice vibrating secretly. That was the tender happiness +she felt, the mother's pride she could not suppress, the warmth of her +feelings, which lent her voice its undertone of emotion. The others +took if for quite a different emotion. + +The ladies, who took a walk in the garden after the dinner was over, +were chatting confidentially together. The paths that smelt of the +pines and in which the coloured lanterns gave a gentle subdued light +were just suitable for that. They wandered about in twos and threes, +arm in arm, and first of all looked carefully to see if there were any +listeners, for their hostess must on no account hear it. There was +hardly one among the ladies who had not made her observations. How well +she bore up. It was really pathetic to see how resentment and +affection, dislike and warmth struggled to get the mastery as soon as +there was any talk about the child. And how a restless look would steal +into her bright eyes--ah, she must have had and still have much to +contend with, poor thing. + +There was only one lady there who said she had known Paul Schlieben +much too long and well not to feel sure that it was ridiculous--nay, +even monstrous--to suppose he would do such a thing. He who was always +such a perfect gentleman, not only in his outward behaviour and +appearance but also in his thoughts, he, the most faithful of husbands, +who even now, after a long married life, was as much in love with his +wife as though they had just been married. The thing was quite +different. They had always wished for children, what was more natural +than that they should adopt one, now that they had finally +given up all hope? Did not other people do the same? + +Of course that happened, there was no doubt about it. But then the +particulars were always given as to whether it was an orphan or the +illegitimate offspring of some one moving in the highest circles, +whether it had been offered in the newspaper--"to be given away to +noble-minded people"--or whether it was the child of a girl who had +been left in the lurch or the unwished-for child of parents belonging +to the labouring classes, who had already been too richly blessed with +children, and so on. Something at least was always known about it. But +in this case why was such a secret made of it? Why did they not say +openly: we have got it from there or there, it happened in such and +such a manner? + +It was difficult to question Frau Schlieben quite openly about the +little one's parentage. They had already gone to her once with that +intention, but as soon as they had introduced the subject such a +terrified expression had come into the woman's eyes, something so shy +and reserved into her manner, that it would have been more than +tactless to continue the conversation. They were compelled to desist +from questioning her--but it was peculiar, very peculiar. + +And the gentlemen in the smoking-room, whom the host had left alone +for a moment, discussed the same theme. The doctor was catechised. + +"I say, doctor, your speech was excellent, worthy of a diplomatist, +but you can't deceive us. You don't know anything about the little +chap's antecedents either? Now come!" It especially puzzled both +partners that Schlieben had told them so little. When everything under +the sun was discussed in business, one had also a certain right to know +the man's private affairs too, especially as they had already worked +with the old gentleman. Where would Paul have been now, if they +two had not safeguarded his interests so energetically at the time when +he put everything else before business? Herr Meier, who was already +elderly and very corpulent, and whose good-natured, intelligent face +bore signs of his fondness for a glass of wine, felt really very hurt +at such a want of confidence: "As though we should have placed any +difficulties in the way--absurd! Doctor, just tell us one thing. Did he +get the boy here?" + +But the other partner, Herr Bormann, who was somewhat choleric and +had to go to Carlsbad every year, interrupted him sharply. "Well, +really, Meier! And what's it to us? They say they have brought him with +them from their last journey, when they were away so long--good. Where +were they last? They went from Switzerland to the Black Forest and then +to Spa, didn't they?" + +"No, to the North Sea," said the doctor quietly. "You can see it as +well, the boy has quite the Frisian type." + +"That boy? With his black eyes?" No, there was nothing to be got out +of Hofmann. He looked so innocent that you might have thought he was +speaking seriously instead of joking. Aha, he had taken his stand; he +had made up his mind not to say anything. They would have to let the +subject drop. + +The doctor, who had already taxed himself with stupidity in his +heart--oh dear, now he had aroused everybody's curiosity instead of +helping the Schliebens--heard the gentlemen pass on to politics with +great relief. + +It was midnight before the last guests left the villa. Their bright +talk and laughter could still be heard distinctly from the end of the +street in the silence of the night, as husband and wife met at the foot +of the stairs leading up to the first floor. + +All the windows of the lower rooms were still open, the silver was +still on the table, the costly china stood about--let the servants put +it away for the time being. Kate felt a great longing to see the child. +She had seen so little of him that day--there had been visitors the +whole day. And then what a number of questions she had had to listen +to, what a number of answers she had had to give. Her head was +burning. + +As she and her husband met--the man was hurrying out of his room, he +had not even given himself time to lock away the cigars--she had to +laugh: aha, he wanted to go upstairs too. She hung on his arm and they +went up together keeping step. + +"To Woelfchen," she said softly, pressing his arm. And he said, as +though excusing himself: "I shall have to see if the noise has not +awakened the boy." + +They spoke in an undertone and moved along cautiously like thieves. +They stole into the nursery--there he lay, so quietly. He had thrown +off the covering in his sleep so that his naked rosy little legs were +visible, and a warm, strong and wonderfully fresh smell ascended from +the child's clean healthy body and mingled with the powerful odour of +the pines, that the night sent into the room through the slightly open +window. + +Kate could not restrain herself, she bent down and kissed the little +knee that showed dimples in its firm roundness. As she looked up again, +she saw her husband's eyes fixed on the sleeping child with a +thoughtful expression. + +She was so used to knowing everything that affected him, that she +asked, "What are you thinking of, Paul? Does anything trouble you?" + +He looked at her absently for a few moments and then past her; he +was so lost in thought that he had not heard her question at all. At +last he murmured, "I wonder if it would not be better to be +open about it? Hm." Then he shook his head and thoughtfully stroked his +beard into a point. + +"What are you saying? What do you mean? Paul!" She laid her hand on +his. + +That aroused him. He smiled at her and said then: "Kate, we must +tell people the truth. Why shouldn't we say where he comes from? Yes, +yes, it's much better, otherwise I fear we shall have a good deal of +unpleasantness. And if the boy does find out in good time that he is +not really our child--I mean our own child--what does it matter?" + +"Good gracious!" She threw up her hands as though horrified. +"No--not for the world--no! Never, never!" She sank down on the bed, +spread both her arms over the child's body as though protecting it, and +nestled her head on the warm little breast. "Then he would be lost to +us, Paul." + +She took a deep breath and trembled. Her voice expressed such +horror, such a terrible fear and prophetic gravity that it startled the +man. + +"I only thought--I mean--I have really long felt it to be my duty," +he said hesitatingly, as though making a stand against her fear. "I +don't like that the--that people--well, that they talk. Don't be so +funny about it, Kate; why shouldn't we tell?" + +"Not tell! You ask why we shouldn't tell? Paul, you know that +yourself. If he gets to know it--oh, that mother! that Venn!" + +She clasped the boy even more tightly; but she had raised her head +from his breast. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked quite +bewildered as they stared at her husband. "Have you forgotten her?" + +Her tremulous voice grew hard. "No, he must never know it. And I +swear it and you must promise me it as well, promise it +sacredly now, here at his bedside whilst he's sleeping peacefully--and +if I should die, not then either, Paul"--her voice grew louder +and louder in her excitement, and its hard tone became almost a +scream--"we'll never tell him it. And I won't give him up. He's my +child _alone_, our child alone." + +Then her voice changed. "Woelfchen, my Woelfchen, surely you'll never +leave your mother?" + +Her tears began to stream now, and whilst she wept she kissed the +child so passionately, so fervently that he awoke. But he did not cry +as he generally did when he was disturbed in his sleep. + +He smiled and, throwing both his little arms round her neck as she +bent down to him, he said, still heavy with sleep, but yet clearly, +plainly, "Mammy." + +She gave a cry of rapture, of triumphant joy. "Do you hear it? He +says 'Mammy.'" + +She laughed and cried at the same time in her excessive joy, and +caught hold of her husband's hand and held it fast. "Paul--daddy--come, +give our child a kiss as well." + +And the man also bent down. His wife threw her arm round his neck +and drew his head still further down quite close to hers. Then the +child laid the one arm round his neck and the other round hers. + +They were all three so close to each other in that calm summer +night, in which all the stars were gleaming and the moonbeams building +silver bridges from the peaceful heavens down to the peaceful +earth. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Those were days of the purest happiness at the Schliebens'. The villa +had been bought now, some rooms had been built on to it, and another +piece of land had been added to the garden as a play-ground. They could +not think of not giving the boy sufficient space to romp about in. Some +sand was brought there, a heap as high as a dune in which to dig. And +when he was big enough to do gymnastics they got him a swing and +horizontal and parallel bars. + +But still it was not sufficient. He climbed over all the fences +round the neighbouring villas, over all the walls that were protected +by barbed wire and pieces of glass. + +"A splendid lad," said Dr. Hofmann when he spoke _of_ Wolfgang. When +he spoke _to_ him he certainly said: "What a little ruffian you are! +Just you wait till you go to school and they'll soon teach you to sit +still." + +Wolf was wild--rather too wild, his mother considered. The boy's +high spirits amused her husband: that was because there was such a +large amount of surplus energy in him. But Kate felt somewhat surprised +at so much wildness--no, she was not really surprised, she knew too +well where all that wildness came from; it frightened her. + +She did not scold him when he tore his trousers--oh, they +could be replaced--but when he came home with the first hole in his +head she became incredibly agitated. She scolded him angrily, she +became unjust. She was quite unable to stop the blood--ugh, how it +ran!--she felt as if she were going to have a fit; she dragged herself +into her room with difficulty and remained sitting silently in a +corner, her eyes staring into space. + +When her husband reproached her for exaggerating in that manner, she +never answered a word. Then he comforted her: she could feel quite easy +now, the thing was of no moment, the hole was sewn up and the lad as +happy as though it had never happened. + +But she shuddered nervously and her cheeks were pale. Oh, if Paul +knew what she had been thinking of, was forced to think of the whole +time! How strange that the same memory did not obtrude itself on him. +Oh, Michel Solheid had laid bleeding on the Venn--blood had dripped on +the ground to-day as on that day. The little boy had not complained, +just as little as his--she fought against using the word even in her +thoughts--as his father, as Michel Solheid had complained. And still +the red blood had gushed out as though it were a spring. How much more +natural it would have been for him to have cried. Did Wolf feel +differently from other children? + +Kate went through the list of her acquaintances; there was not a +single child that would not have cried if he had got such a wound, and +he would not have been considered a coward on that account. There was +no doubt about it, Woelfchen was less sensitive. Not only more +insensible to bodily pain, no--and she thought she had noticed it +several times--also more insensible to emotion. Even in the case of +joy. Did not other children show their happiness by clapping their +hands and shouting? Did not they dance round the thing they +wanted--the toy, the doll, the cake--with shouts of delight? He only +held out his hand for it in silence. + +He took it because he had been told to do so, without all the +childish chatter, without the rapturous delight that makes it so +attractive and satisfactory to give children gifts. + +"As a peasant," her husband used to say. That cut her to the quick +every time he said it. Was Woelfchen really made of such different +material? No, Paul must not say "peasant." Woelfchen was not stupid, +only perhaps a little slow in thinking, and he was shrewd enough. He +had not been born in a large town, that was it; where they lived now +was just like the country. + +"You peasant!" The next time his father said it--it was said in +praise and not to blame him, because he was pleased the boy kept his +little garden so well--Kate flew into a passion. Why? Her husband did +not understand the reason for it. Why should he not be pleased? Had not +the boy put a splendid fence round his garden? He had made a palisade +of hazel-sticks into which he had woven flexible willow-twigs, and then +he had covered the whole with pine branches to make it close. And he +had put beans and peas in his garden, which he had begged the cook to +give him; and now he meant to plant potatoes there as well. Had anybody +told him how to do it? No, nobody. The first-rate cook and the +housemaid were both from a town, what did they know about sowing peas +and planting potatoes? + +"He's a born farmer," said the father laughing. + +But the mother turned away as though in pain. She would much, much +rather have seen her son's garden a mass of weeds than that he should +plant, weed and water so busily. + +She had made him a present of some flowers; but they did not +interest him and he was not so successful with them either. +There was only a large sunflower that grew and grew. It was soon as +high as the boy, soon even higher, and he often stood in front of it, +his childish face raised, gazing earnestly into its golden disc for +quite a long time. + +When the sunflower's golden petals withered--then its seeds ripened +instead and were examined every day and finally gathered--Wolfgang went +to school. He was already in his seventh year, and was big and strong; +why should he not learn with other children now? + +His mother had thought how wonderful it would be to teach him the +rudiments herself, for when she was a young girl with nothing to do at +home and a great wish to continue her studies, she had gone to a +training college and even passed her examination as a teacher with +distinction; but--perhaps that was too long ago, for her strength was +not equal to the task. Especially her patience. He made so little +progress, was so exceedingly slow. Was the boy stupid? No, but dull, +very dull. And it often seemed to her as though she were facing a wall +when she spoke to him. + +"You are much too eager," said her husband. But how on earth was she +to make it clear to him that that was an "A" and that an "O," and how +was she to explain to him that if you put one and one together it makes +two without getting eager? She became excited, she took the ball-frame +and counted the blue and red balls that looked like round beads on a +string for the boy. She got hot and red, almost hoarse, and would have +liked to cry with impatience and discouragement, when Woelfchen sat +looking at her with his large eyes without showing any interest, and +still did not know that one bead and one bead more make two beads after +they had worked at it for hours. + +She saw to her sorrow that she would have to give up the +lessons. "He'll do better with a master," said her husband, +consolingly. And it was better, although it could not exactly be termed +"good." + +Wolfgang was not lazy, but his thoughts were always wandering. +Learning did not interest him. He had other things to think about: +would the last leaves in the garden have fallen when he got home from +school at noon? And would the starling, for whom he had nailed the +little box high up in the pine-tree, come again next spring? It had +picked off all the black berries from the elderberry, and had then gone +away screaming; if it did not find any more elderberries, what would it +eat then? And the boy's heart was heavy with grief--if only he had +given it a little bag of berries when it went away. + +Now the pines in the Grunewald were covered with snow. When Wolfgang +had gone to school that morning, his knapsack on his back, the +housemaid at his side, the white layer had crackled and broken under +his boots. It was very cold. And then he had heard a bird's shriek, +that sounded like a hungry croak. The housemaid thought it was an +owl--pooh, what did she know about it? It was a raven, the hungry +beggar in the jet-black coat, like the one in the primer. + +And the boy was thinking of it now as he sat on the bench, staring +with big eyes at the blackboard, on which the teacher was writing words +they were to find out. How nice it must be under the pines now. There +flew the raven; brushing the snow off the branches with its black +wings, so that it looked like powder as it fell. Where was he going to +fly to? His thoughts flew far, far away after the raven, as they had +done after the starling. The boy's eyes shone, his chest rose with the +deep breath he drew--at that moment the teacher called to him. + +"Wolfgang, are you asleep with your eyes open? What's this?" The boy +gave a start, got red, then pale and knew nothing. + +The other boys almost died of laughing--"Are you asleep with your +eyes open?"--that had been too funny. + +The teacher did not punish him, but Wolfgang crept home as though he +had been punished. He had hidden from the housemaid, who always came to +fetch him--no, he would not go with her to-day. He had also run away +from his comrades--let them fight without him today, to-morrow he would +throw all the more snowballs at them. + +He walked quite alone, turned off from the street and wandered about +aimlessly among the pines. He looked for the raven, but it was far +away, and so he began to run too, run as quickly as he could, and tore +the knapsack off his back with a loud cry, hurling it far from him up +into the broad branches of a pine, so that it hung there and nothing +but snow fell down silently in large lumps. That amused him. He filled +both his hands with snow, made hard balls of it and began to regularly +bombard the pine that kept his knapsack a prisoner. But it did not give +it up, and when he had grown hot and red and tired but very much +cheered, he had to go home without his knapsack. + +The housemaid had been back a long time when he arrived. She opened +the door for him with a red face--she had run so hard after him--and an +angry look. "Hm," she said irritably, "you've been kept, I +suppose?" + +He pushed her aside. "Hold your tongue!" He could not bear her at +that moment, when coming in from outside where everything had been so +quiet, so free. + +His parents were already at table. His father frowned as he +looked at him, his mother asked in a voice of gentle reproach in which +there was also a little anxiety: "Where have you been so long? Lisbeth +has been looking for you everywhere." + +"Well?" His father's voice sounded severe. + +The boy did not give any answer, it seemed to him all at once as +though his tongue were paralysed. What should he tell those people +sitting indoors about what he had been doing outside? + +"He's sure to have been kept at school, ma'am," whispered the +housemaid when she handed the meat. "I'll find it out from the other +boys to-morrow, and tell you about it, ma'am." + +"Oh, you!" The boy jumped up; although she had whispered it in a low +voice, he had heard it all the same. His chair fell down behind him +with a crash, and rushing up to the girl with clenched fist he seized +hold of her so roughly that she gave a shrill scream and let the dish +fall out of her hand. + +"You goose, you goose!" he howled in a loud voice, and wanted to +strike her. His father only pulled him away with difficulty. + +"Woelfchen!" Kate's fork had fallen out of her hand with a clatter, +and she was staring at her boy with dilated eyes. + +The maid complained bitterly. He was always like that, he was +unbearable, he had said before to her: "Hold your tongue!" No, she +could not put up with it, she would rather leave. And she ran out of +the room crying. + +Paul Schlieben was extremely angry. "You are to be civil to +inferiors. You are to be polite to them, just because they have to +serve. Do you hear?" And he seized hold of the boy with a strong hand, +laid him across his knees and gave him the whipping he so well +deserved. + +Wolfgang ground his teeth together and bore the punishment without +uttering a sound and without a tear. + +But every stroke fell on his mother's heart. She felt as if she +herself had been beaten and severely bruised. When her husband took his +usual rest after the stormy dinner, smoked, read the paper and took a +little nap between whiles, she crept up to the nursery in which the boy +had been locked. Was he crying? + +She turned the key softly--he was kneeling on the chair near the +window, his nose pressed flat against the pane, looking attentively out +at the snow. He did not notice her at all. Then she went away again +cautiously. She went downstairs again, but her mind was not +sufficiently at rest to read in her room; she crept about the house +softly as though she had no peace. Then she heard Lisbeth say to the +cook in the kitchen between the rattling of plates: "I shall certainly +not put up with it. Not from such a rude boy. What has he got to do +here?" + +Kate stood rigid, overcome by a terror that paralysed her: what did +she know? She became glowing hot and then icy cold. "Not from such a +rude boy--what has he got to do here?" oh, God, was that the way she +spoke about him? + +She ran up to the nursery; Woelfchen was still kneeling at the +window. + +No other villa obstructed the view there as yet; from the window one +looked out on a large piece of waste ground, where dandelions and +nettles grew in the sand between hedge mustard in the summer time, but +where the snow lay now, deep and clean, untouched by any footstep. The +short winter evening was already drawing to a close, that white field +was the only thing that still glittered, and it seemed to the mother +that the child's face was very wan in the pale light of the luminous +snow. + +"Woelfchen," she called softly. And then "Woelfchen, how could you say +'goose' and 'hold your tongue' to Lisbeth? Oh, for shame! Where did you +get those words from?" Her voice was gentle and sad as she questioned +him. + +Then he turned round to her, and she saw how his eyes burned. +Something flickered in them, that looked like a terrified, restless +longing. + +She noticed that as well, and quite against all rules of pedagogy +she opened her arms and whispered--after it had escaped from her lips +she did not know herself why she had said it, for he had everything, +everything his heart desired--"You poor child!" + +And he ran into her arms. + +They held each other tightly, heart beating against heart. They were +both sad, but neither of them knew the reason why, nor why the other +one was sad. + +"It's not the whipping," he murmured. + +She stroked his straight hair away from his forehead with her soft +hand; she did not ask him any more questions. For--did not something +rise out of that field covered with snow, hover outside the window and +lay its finger on its lips: "Be quiet, do not ask, do not touch +it"? + +But she remained with the boy and played with him; she felt as +though she ought not to leave him alone to-day. Yes, she must pay still +more attention to him in the future. All at once the thought fell on +her heart like a heavy weight: she had already left him much too much +to himself. But then she consoled herself again: he was still so young, +his mind was still a piece of quite soft wax, which she could mould as +she liked. He must never again be allowed to stand at the window +staring out at that desolate field with such burning eyes. What was he +longing for? Was not a wealth of love showered on him? And +everything else that delights a child's heart? + +She looked round his pretty room. Such a quantity of toys were piled +up in it, trains and steamers, tin soldiers and picture books and all +the newest games. + +"Come, we'll play," she said. + +He was quite ready to do so; she was surprised how quickly he had +forgotten his sorrow. Thank God, he was still quite an innocent, +unsuspecting child. But how restlessly he threw the toys about. "That's +stupid," and "that's tiresome"--nothing really absorbed his attention. +She soon felt quite exhausted with all her proposals and her endeavours +to induce him to play this or that game. She did not think she had been +so difficult to satisfy as a child. She had wanted to get up and go +away half a dozen times already--no, she really could not stand it any +longer, she had a frantic headache, it had got on her nerves, it was +certainly much easier to stand at the fire and cook or do housework +than play with a child--but her sense of duty and her love kept her +back every time. + +She must not leave him alone, for--she felt it with a gloomy +dread--for then somebody else would come and take him away from +her. + +She remained sitting with him, pale and exhausted; he had tormented +her a great deal. At last he found a woolly sheep that had been quite +forgotten in the corner of the toy cupboard, a dilapidated old toy from +his childhood with only three legs left. And he amused himself with +that; that pleased him more than the other costly toys. He sat on the +carpet as though he were quite a little child, held the sheep between +his knees and stroked it. + +When he lay in bed at last, she still sat beside him holding his +hand. She sang the song with which she had so often sung him to +sleep: + + "Sleep sound, sweetest child, + Yonder wind howls wild. + Hearken, how the rain makes sprays + And how neighbour's doggie bays. + Doggie has gripped the man forlorn, + Has the beggar's tatter torn--" + +She sang it more and more softly. At last she thought he had fallen +asleep, but then he tore his hand away impatiently: "Stop that song! +I'm not a baby any longer!" + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +It was fortunate that there were no street boys in the Grunewald +colony, as Woelfchen would assuredly have played with them; as it was, +his playfellows were only a hall-porter's children. There was certainly +no want of nicer children to play with; school-fellows whose parents +lived in similar villas to theirs used to invite him; and the families +in Berlin, with whom the Schliebens were on friendly terms and who were +pleased when their children could get out to the Grunewald on their +holidays, often asked him to come and see them too. + +All children liked to come to the shady garden, where Auntie Kate +was always so kind to them. There was always plenty of cakes and fruit +and hoops and balls and croquet and tennis, ninepins and gymnastic +appliances. On sunny afternoons gay laughter and shrieks used to ascend +high up into the green tops of the pines, but--Kate noticed it with +surprise--her boy, who was generally so wild, was the quietest of them +all on those occasions. He did not care for those visits. He did not +care for those well-behaved boys in white and blue sailor-suits, with +their fresh faces showing above their dazzling collars; he never felt +really at home with them. He would have preferred to have run away to a +place far away from there, where nobody else went except now and then a +beggar with a large bag, who would turn over every bit of paper +with his wire hook to see whether something of value had not been left +there the Sunday before. He would have liked to help that man. Or fill +the large bag with pine-cones. + +But still Wolfgang had some friends. There was Hans Flebbe--his +father was coachman at the banker's, who owned the splendid villa on +the other side of the road and lived in Bellevuestrasse in Berlin in +the winter--and there were also Artur and Frida. But their father was +only porter in a villa that was let out to different families. + +As soon as these three came home from school, they would stand +outside the Schliebens' villa. They could not be driven away, they +would wait there patiently until Wolfgang joined them. + +"He's like a brother to my Hans," the coachman used to say, and he +would greet him with a specially condescending flick of his whip from +his high seat. And the porter and his wife used to state with much +satisfaction: "Yes, old Schlieben always touches his hat, and she, his +lady, also says 'how do you do?' to us in a very friendly style, but +the little one, oh, he's quite different." + +Those were wild games the four comrades played together, and in +which Frida was reckoned to be quite a boy: catch, hide and seek, but +best of all, robbers and policemen. How Wolf's eyes sparkled when he, +as the robber captain, gave the policeman, Hans Flebbe, a kick in the +stomach, so that he fell backwards on the ground and lay for a time +without moving from pain. + +"I've shot him," he said to his mother proudly. + +Kate, who had been called to the window by the noisy shrieks of the +children who were rushing about wildly in the waste field behind the +villa, had beckoned to her boy to come in. He had come unwillingly; but +he had come. Now he stood breathless before her, and she +stroked the damp hair away from the face that was wet with +perspiration: "What a sight you look! And here--look." + +She pointed reproachfully to his white blouse that was covered with +dirt. Where in all the world had he made himself so filthy? there were +no real pools there. And his trousers. The right leg was slit open the +whole way down, the left one had a three-cornered hole in the knee. + +Pooh, that was nothing. He wanted to rush away again, he was +trembling with impatience; his playfellows were crouching behind the +bush, they dared not come out before he, their captain, came back to +them. He strove against the hand that was holding him; but his +struggles were of no avail that time, his father came out of the next +room. + +"You are to stop here. You ought to feel ashamed of yourself to +resist your mother like that. Off with you, go to your room and prepare +your lessons for tomorrow." + +Paul Schlieben spoke sharply. It had made him angry to see how the +boy had striven with hands and feet against his delicate wife. + +"You rude boy, I'll teach you how to behave to your mother. +Here"--he seized hold of him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him +up to her--"here, beg her pardon. Kiss your good mother's hand. And +promise not to be so wild again, not to behave like a street-boy. Be +quick--well, are you soon going to do it?" + +The veins on the man's forehead began to swell with anger. What a +stubborn fellow he was. There he stood, his blouse torn open at front +so that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest that was wet +with perspiration--he was not breathing quietly even now, he +was still panting from the rough game--and looking so wild, so +turbulent, not at all like the child of nice parents. This could not go +on any longer. + +"You must not tear about like that any more, do you hear?" said his +father severely. "I forbid it. Play other games. You have your garden, +your gymnastic appliances and a hundred things others would envy you. +And now come here, beg your mother's pardon." + +The boy went to his mother. She met him half way, she held out her +hand to him already. He kissed it, he mumbled also, "I won't do it +again," but the man did not hear any repentance in his voice. There was +something in the sullen way he said it that irritated him. And he lost +control of himself a little. + +"That wasn't an apology. Ask your mother's pardon again--and +distinctly." + +The boy repeated it. + +"And now promise that you will not rush about like that again. 'Dear +mother, I promise'--well?" + +Not a word, no promise. + +"What's the meaning of this?" The man shook the boy, beside himself +with anger. But the boy pressed his lips together. He gave his father +an upward look out of his dark eyes. + +The woman caught the look--oh, God, that was the look!--that +look--the woman's look! + +She put both her arms round the boy protectingly: "Don't, don't +irritate him." She drew him nearer to her and covered his eyes with her +hands, so that he had to close them, and then she cast an imploring +glance at her husband: "Go, do go." + +Paul Schlieben went, but he shook his head angrily. + +"You'll see what your training will make of the boy." He raised his +hand menacingly once more: "Boy, I tell you, you'll have to obey." And +then he closed the door behind him--he could not even have his +midday rest undisturbed now. + +He heard his wife's voice in the next room. It sounded so gentle and +trembled as though with a secret dread. "Woelfchen, Woelfchen, aren't you +my good boy?" + +No answer. Good heavens, had the unfeeling scamp no answer to give +to that question uttered in that tone? + +Then again the soft trembling voice: "Won't you be my good boy?" + +If the boy did not answer now, then--! The blood surged to his head +as he listened against his will, his fingers twitched, he wanted to +jump up and rush in again and--ah, he must have answered now. It was +probably nothing but a silent nod, but Kate's voice sounded intensely +happy: "There you see, I knew you were my good boy, my darling child, +my--my----" + +Hm, it was certainly not necessary for Kate to lavish such endearing +tones on the boy, after he had just been so naughty. And she must have +kissed him, put her arms round him. Her voice had died away in a tender +breath. + +Paul Schlieben did not hear anything more now; neither the rustling +of her dress nor any other sound--ah, she was probably whispering to +him now. How she spoiled the scamp. + +But now--somebody was weeping softly. Was that Wolf's hard, defiant +voice? Yes, he was actually crying loudly now, and between his sobs he +jerked out pitifully--you could hardly understand what he was saying: +"I had to--to shoot him--he's the policeman, you know." + +And now everything was quiet again. The man took up his paper once +more, which he had thrown aside before, and commenced to read. But he +could not fix his attention on it, his thoughts wandered obstinately +again and again to the next room. Had the scamp come to his +senses now? Did he see that he had been naughty? And was not Kate much +too weak? There was nothing to be heard, nothing whatever. But +still--was not that the door that creaked? No, imagination. Everything +was quiet. + +After waiting a little longer he went into the next room. It was +indeed very quiet there, for Kate was quite alone. She was sitting at +the window, her hands in her lap, pondering. Her thoughts seemed to be +far away. + +"Where's the boy?" + +She gave a terrified start, and thrust both hands forward as though +to ward off something. + +He saw now that she was pale. The vexation she had had on account of +the child had probably shaken her a good deal--just let him wait until +he got hold of him, he should do twice as many sums to-day as a +punishment. + +"Is the boy at his lessons?" + +She shook her head and got red. "No." + +"No? Why not?" He looked at her in amazement. "Didn't I tell him +that he was to go to his lessons at once?" + +"You said so. But I told him to run away. Paul, don't be angry." She +saw that he was about to fly into a passion, and laid her hand on his +arm soothingly. "If you love me, leave him. Oh Paul, believe me, do +believe me when I say he can't help it, he must run about, rush about, +be out of doors--he must." + +"You always have some excuse. Just think of the story of the +knapsack when first he went to school--the rascal had thrown it up into +a pine-tree. If a labourer had not found it by accident and brought it +to us, because he read our name on the primer, we might have +looked for it for a long time. You excused that--well, that was nothing +very bad--a fit of wantonness--but now you are excusing something quite +different; and everything." The man, who generally yielded to his wife +in all points, grew angry in his grave anxiety. "I implore you, Kate, +don't be so incredibly weak with the boy. Where will it lead to?" + +"It will lead him to you and me." She pointed gravely to him and +herself. And then she laid her hand on her heart with an expression of +deep emotion. + +"What do you mean? I don't understand you. Please express yourself a +little more clearly, I'm not in a humour to guess riddles." + +"If you can't guess it, you'll not understand it either if I say it +more clearly." She bent her head and then went back to her former seat. +But she was not lost in thought any longer, it seemed to him as if she +were leaning forward to catch the shrill shouts of triumph that rose +high above the roof from the waste field at the back of the house. + +"You'll never be able to manage the boy." + +"Oh yes, I shall." + +"Of course you will, if you let him do exactly what he likes." The +man strode quickly out of the room; his anger was getting the mastery +of him. + +Paul Schlieben was seriously angry with his wife, perhaps for the +first time in their married life. How could Kate be so unreasonable? +take so little notice of his orders, as though he had never given +them--nay, even act in direct opposition to him? Oh, the rascal was +cunning enough, he drew his conclusions from it already. And if he did +not do so as yet, still he felt instinctively what a support he had in +his mother. It was simply incredible how weak Kate was. + +His wife's soft sensitive nature, which had attracted him to +her in the first instance and which had had the same charm for him +all the years they had been married, now seemed exaggerated all at +once--childish. Yes, this timorousness, this everlasting dread of what +was over and done with was childish. They had not heard anything more +about the boy's mother, why then conjure up her shade on all occasions? +They had the boy's birth and baptismal certificates safely in their +hands, and the Venn was far away--he would never see it--why then this +constant, tremulous anxiety? There was no reason whatever for it. They +lived in such pleasant surroundings, their financial position was so +sound, Wolf possessed everything that fills and gladdens a child's +heart, that it was real madness for Kate to suppose that he had a kind +of longing for his home. How in the world should he have got that +longing? He had no idea that this was not really his home. It was sad +that Kate was so hypersensitive. She could positively make others +nervous as well. + +And the man passed his hand over his forehead, as though to drive +disagreeable thoughts away with a movement of his hand. He lighted a +cigar. It was an extra fine one to-day, those he generally left for his +guests; he had the feeling that he must have something to help him over +an unpleasant hour. For the thing was unpleasant, really unpleasant and +difficult, even if he hoped in time to solve the question of how to +train such a child satisfactorily. At any rate not as Kate was doing. +That was clear to him already. + +Paul Schlieben sat in the corner of the sofa in his study, blowing +blue rings of smoke into the air. His brows were still knit. He had +come home very tired from the office that day, where there had been all +sorts of complications--quite enough annoyance--he had had to dictate +some hurried letters, had not allowed himself a moment's +repose, and had hoped to have a pleasant rest at home--but in vain. +Strange how one child can alter the whole household, one's whole life. +If the boy had not been there?... Ah, then he would have had a short +peaceful nap by now, stretched out on the divan with the newspaper in +front of his face, and would be going across to Kate's room for a cosy +chat and a cup of coffee, which she prepared herself so gracefully on +the humming Viennese coffee-machine. He had always liked to sit and +watch her slender, well-cared-for hands move about so noiselessly. It +was a pity. + +He sighed. But then he conquered the feeling: no, one ought not to +wish he were away because of a momentary annoyance. How many happy +hours little Woelfchen had given them. It had been charming to watch his +first steps, to listen to his first connected words. And had not Kate +been very happy to have him--oh, who said _been_ happy?--she was still +so. Nothing could be compared to the boy. And that the hours of +cloudless happiness they had had through him were not so numerous now +as formerly was quite natural. He was not the same little boy any +longer, who had taken his first bold run from that corner over there to +this sofa, and had clung to his father's legs rejoicing at his own +daring; that was all. He was now beginning to be an independent person, +a person with wishes of his own, no longer with those that had been +inculcated; he showed a will of his very own. Now he wanted this and +now he wanted that, and no longer what his teachers wanted. But was not +that natural? On the whole, when a child begins to go to school, what a +great many changes take place. One would have to make allowances, even +if one did not wish to have one's whole way of living influenced by it +first the parents, then the child. + +The man felt how he gradually became calmer. A boy--what a +compound of wildness, roughness, unrestraint, ay, unmannerliness is +included in that word! And all, all who were now men had once been +boys. + +His cigar went out; he had forgotten to smoke it. The man thought of +his own boyhood with a strangely gentle feeling not entirely free from +a faint longing. Let him only be honest: had he not also rushed about +and made a terrible noise, dirtied himself, got hot and torn his +trousers and been up to pranks, more than enough pranks? + +Strange how he all at once remembered some of the severe lectures he +had had given him and the tears he had forced from his mother's eyes; +he also very clearly remembered the whipping he had once got for +telling a lie. His father had said at the time--all at once he seemed +to hear his voice, which had generally sounded anything but solemn, in +fact very commonplace, but which had then been ennobled by the gravity +of the situation, echo in the room: "Boy, I can forgive you everything +else except lies." Ah, it had been very uncomfortable that day in the +small office, where his father had leant against the high wooden desk +holding the stick behind his back. He had pushed the little cap he wore +on account of his baldness to one side in his agitation, his friendly +blue eyes had looked at him penetratingly, and at the same time +sadly. + +"One can forgive everything except lies"--well, had the boy, had +Wolfgang told a lie? Certainly not. He had only been naughty, as the +best children are now and then. + +The man felt ashamed of himself: and he, he had been so displeased +with the boy simply because he had been naughty? + +He got up from the sofa, threw the remains of his cigar into the +ash-tray and went out to look for Wolfgang. + +He came across the four in the height of the game. They had lighted +a small fire on the waste piece of ground close behind the garden +railing, so that the overhanging bushes in the garden formed a kind of +roof over them. + +They were crouching close together; they were in camp now. Frida had +some potatoes in her pinafore, which were to be roasted in the ashes; +but the fire would not burn, the twigs only smouldered. Wolfgang lay on +his stomach on the ground, resting on his elbows, and was blowing with +all the strength of his lungs. But it was not enough, the fire would +not burn on any account. + +Paul Schlieben had come up softly, the children had not noticed him +at all in their eagerness. "Won't it burn?" he asked. + +Wolfgang jerked himself up, and was on his feet in a moment. He had +been red and fresh-looking, but now he grew pale, his frank look fell +timidly, a miserable expression lengthened his round, childish face and +made him look older. + +"Have I to go in?" It sounded pitiful. + +The man pretended not to hear the question; he had really intended +fetching him in, but all at once he hesitated to say so. It was hard +for the boy to have to go away now before the fire burnt, before the +potatoes were roasted. So he said nothing, but stooped down, and as he +was not far enough down even then he knelt down and blew the fire, that +was faintly crackling, with all the breath he had in his broad chest. +Sparks began to leap out at once, and a small flame shot up and soon +turned into a big one. + +There was a shout of glee. Frida hopped about in the circle, her +plaits flying: "It's burning, it's burning!" Artur and Hans chimed in +too; they also hopped from the one foot to the other, clapped their +dirty hands and shouted loudly: "It's burning, it's burning!" + +"Be quiet, children." The man was amused at their happiness. "Bring +me some twigs, but very dry ones," he ordered, full of eagerness, too, +to keep alive this still uncertain flame, that now disappeared, now +flared up again. He blew and poked and added more twigs. The wind drove +the smoke into his face so that he had to cough, but he wiped his eyes, +that were full of tears, and did not mind that his trousers got wet +green spots from kneeling on the ground, and that chance passers-by +would be greatly surprised to see Herr Paul Schlieben occupied in that +manner. He, too, found it fun now to keep up a fire for roasting +potatoes under the pale, blue autumn sky, in which the white clouds +were scudding along and the twittering swallows flying. He had never +known such a thing--he had always lived in a town--but it was splendid, +really splendid. + +The children brought twigs. Wolfgang took them and broke them across +his knee--crack!--the sticks broke like glass. What a knack the boy had +at it. + +The flames flared up, the little fire emitted an agreeable warmth; +one could warm one's hands at it--ah, that was really very nice. + +And then the man followed the smoke, which the wind raised from the +field like a light cloud, with his eyes. It seemed grey at first, but +the higher it flew the lighter it became, and the friendly sunshine +shone through it, transforming it. It floated upwards, ever upwards, +ever more immaterial, more intangible, until it flew away entirely--a +puff, a whiff. + +Now it was about time to bury the potatoes; Wolfgang busied himself +with it. They had not poked the fire any more, the flame had sunk down, +but the ashes hid all the heat. The children stood round with wide-open +eyes, quite quiet, almost holding their breath and yet trembling with +expectation: when would the first potatoes be done? Oh, did +they not smell nice already? They distended their nostrils so as to +smell them. But Paul Schlieben brushed his trousers now and prepared to +go away--it would take too long before the potatoes were ready. He felt +something that resembled regret. But it really would not do for him to +stand about any longer; what would people think of him? + +He was himself again now. "That's enough now," he said, and he went +away, carefully avoiding the impracticable parts of the field where the +puddles were. Then he heard steps close behind him. He turned round. +"Wolf? Well, what do you want?" + +The boy looked at him sadly out of his dark eyes. + +"Are you going home too?" There was astonishment in the man's +question--he had not said that the boy was to go with him. + +The pines emitted a splendid smell, you could breathe the air so +freely, so easily, and that pale blue sky with the fleecy white clouds +had something wonderfully clear about it, something that filled the +eyes with light. White threads floated over the countryside, driven +from the clean east, and hung fast to the green branches of the pines, +shimmering there like a fairy web. And the sun was still agreeably warm +without burning, and an invigorating pungent odour streamed from the +golden-coloured leaves of the bushes that enclosed the gardens at the +back. + +The man drew a deep breath; he felt as if he had suddenly grown ten, +twenty--no, thirty years younger. Even more. + +"Well, run along," he said. + +The boy looked at him as if he had not quite understood him. + +"Run," he said once more curtly, smiling at the same time. + +Then the boy gave a shout, such a shrill, triumphant shout that his +playfellows, who were crouching round the potato fire, joined in +immediately without knowing why. + +There was a gleam in the dark eyes of the boy, who loved freedom, +the free air and to run about free. He did not say his father had made +him happy, but he drew a deep breath as if a load had fallen off his +chest. And the man noticed something in his face, that was now +commencing to grow coarser, to lose the soft contours of childhood and +get the sharp ones of youth, that made it refined and beautiful. + +Wolfgang flew back across the field as quick as lightning, as if +shot from a tightly strung bow. + +The man went back into his garden. He opened the gate cautiously so +that it should not creak, and closed it again just as quietly--Kate +need not know where he had been. But she was already standing at the +window. + +There was something touchingly helpless in her attitude, such an +anxious scrutiny in her eyes--no, she need not look at him like that, +he was not angry with her. + +And he nodded to her. + +When the housemaid asked whether the master did not know where the +young gentleman was--she had had the milk warmed three times already +for him and had run up and downstairs with it--he said in a low voice +with an excuse in the tone: "Oh, that does not matter, Lisbeth. Warm it +for a fourth time later on. It is so healthy for him to be out of +doors." + + + + + +BOOK II + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It was Frida Laemke's birthday. "If you may come we are to have buns +with raisins in, but if you mayn't there'll only be rolls like we have +every day," she said to her friend Wolfgang. "Mind you get them to let +you come." It was of most importance to her that Wolfgang came; no +differences were made on account of Flebbe, although he always said he +was going to marry her. + +And Wolfgang teased his mother. "Let me go--why not? I should like +to so much--why mayn't I?" + +Yes, why not? He had kept dinning this "why not?" into her ears for +the last twenty-four hours; it had quite worn her out. What should she +say to him? that she disliked Frida? But what had the girl done that +she had taken a dislike to her? Nothing. She always curtseyed politely, +was always tidily dressed, had even plaited the blue ribbon into her +fair hair with a certain taste. The parents were also quite respectable +people, and still--these children always hung about the streets, +always, both summer and winter. You could pass their house whenever you +liked, those Laemkes were always outside their door. Was it the life of +the streets this snub-nosed girl, who was very developed for her age, +reminded her of? No, he must not go to those people's house, go down +into the atmosphere of the porter's room. + +"I don't wish you to go there," she said. She had not the heart to +say: "I won't allow it," when he looked at her with those beseeching +eyes. + +And the boy saw his advantage. He felt distinctly: she is struggling +with herself; and he followed it up with cruel pertinacity. + +"Let me--oh, do let me. I shall be so sorry if I can't. Then I +shan't care to do anything. Why mayn't I? Mammy, I'll love you so, if +you'll only let me go. Do let me--will you? But I will." + +She could not escape from him any more, he followed her wherever she +went, he took hold of her dress, and even if she forbade him to ask her +any more, she felt that he only thought of the one thing the whole +time. So he forced her in that way. + +Paul Schlieben was not so averse to his accepting the invitation +from the Laemkes. "Why not? They're quite respectable people. It won't +harm the boy to cast a glance at those circles for once in a way. I +also went to our hall-porter's home as a boy. And why not?" + +She wanted to say: "But that was something quite different, there +was no danger in your case"--but then she thought better of it and said +nothing. She did not want to bring him her fears, her doubts, her +secret gnawing dread so soon again, as there was no manifest reason for +them, and they could not be explained as every other feeling can be +after all. Something like a depressing mist always hung over her. But +why should she tell him so? She neither wanted to be scolded nor +laughed at for it; she would resent both. He was not the same man he +used to be. Oh--she felt it with a slight bitterness--how he used to +understand her. He had shared every emotion with her, every vibration +of her soul. But he had not the gift of understanding her +thoughts now--or did she perhaps not understand him any longer? + +But he was still her dear husband, her good, faithful husband whom +she loved more than anyone else in the world--no, whom she loved as she +loved Woelfchen. The child, oh, the child was the sun round which her +life revolved. + +If Paul only had been as he was formerly. She had to cast a covert +glance at him very frequently now, and, with a certain surprise, also +grow accustomed to his outward appearance. Not that his broadening-out +did not suit him; the slight stoutness his slender figure with its +formerly somewhat stiff but always perfect carriage had assumed suited +his years, and the silver threads that commenced to gleam in his beard +and at his temples. It suited also the comfortable velvet coat he +always put on as soon as he came home, suited his whole manner of +being. Strange that anybody could become such a practical person, to +whom everything relating to business had formerly been such a burden, +nay, even most repugnant. He would not have picked up the strange child +from the Venn now, and--Kate gave her husband a long look--he would not +have taken it home with him now as a gift from fairyland. + +Had the years also changed her in the same manner? Her looking-glass +did not show her any very great change. There was still the same +girlish figure, which seemed twice as slender beside her husband's +stoutness. Her hair was still fair, and she still blushed like a young +girl to whom a stray look is enough to make the blood, that flows so +easily, invade her delicate cheeks. Yes, she had still remained young +outwardly. But her mind was often weary. Wolf caused her too much +anxiety. A mother, who was ten, fifteen years younger than she, would +not perhaps feel how every nerve becomes strained when dealing +with such a child as she did. Would not such a mother often have +laughed when she felt ready to cry? + +Oh, what a boisterous, inexhaustible vital power there was in that +boy! She was amazed, bewildered, exhausted by it. Was he never tired? +Always on his legs, out of bed at six, always out, out. She heard him +tossing about restlessly at daybreak. He slept in the next room to +theirs, and the door between the rooms always stood open, although her +husband scolded her for it. The boy was big enough, did not want +supervising. They need not have that disturbance at night, at any +rate. + +But she wanted to watch over his sleep too; she must do so. She +often heard him talk in his dreams, draw his breath so heavily, as +though something were distressing him. Then she would slip out of bed, +softly, softly, so that her husband should not hear her; she did not +light any candle, she groped her way into the other room on bare feet. +And then she would stand at his bedside. He still had the pretty railed +cot from his first boyhood--but how long would it be before it was too +small? How quickly he was growing, how terribly quickly. She passed her +hand cautiously and lightly over the cover, and felt the boy's long +body underneath it. Then he began to toss about, groan, stiffen himself +like one who is struggling with something. What could be the matter +with him? Then he spoke indistinctly. Of what was he dreaming so +vividly? He was wet through with perspiration. + +If only she could see him. But she dared not light a candle. What +should she say to her husband if he, awakened by the light, asked her +what she was doing there? And Woelfchen would also wake and ask her what +she wanted. + +Yes, what did she really want? She had no answer ready even for +herself. She would only have liked to know what was occupying his mind +in his dream to such an extent that he sighed and struggled. Of what +was he dreaming? Of whom? Where was he in his dream? + +She trembled as she stood at his bedside on her bare feet listening. +And then she bent over him so closely that his breath, uneven and hot, +blew into her face, and she breathed on him again--did not they mingle +their breath in that manner? Was she not giving him breath of her +breath in that manner?--and whispered softly and yet so earnestly, +imploringly and at the same time urgently: "Your mother is here, your +mother is near you." + +But he threw himself over to the other side with a jerk, turned his +back on her and mumbled something. Nothing but incomprehensible words, +rarely anything that was distinct, but even that was enough; she felt +he was not there, not with her, that he was far away. Did his soul seek +the home he did not know in his dreams? that he could not even know +about, and that still had such a powerful influence that it drew him +there even unconsciously? + +Kate stood at Wolfgang's bedside tortured by such an anxiety as she +had never felt before: a mother and still not mother. Alas, she was +only a strange woman at the bedside of a strange child. + +She crept back to her bed and buried her throbbing brows deep in the +pillows. She felt her heart beat tumultuously, and she scolded herself +for allowing her thoughts to dwell on such unavailing things. She did +not change anything by it, it only made her weary and sad. + +When Kate rose after such a night she felt her husband's eyes +resting on her anxiously, and her hands trembled as she coiled +up her thick hair. It was fortunate that she dropped a hair-pin, then +she could stoop quickly and withdraw her tired face with the dark lines +under the eyes from his scrutinising glance. + +"I'm not at all satisfied with my wife's health again," Paul +Schlieben complained to the doctor. "She's in a terribly nervous state +again." + +"Really?" Dr. Hofmann's friendly face became energetic. "I'll tell +you one thing, my dear friend, you must take vigorous measures against +it at once." + +"That's no use." The man shook his head. "I know my wife. It's the +boy's doing, that confounded boy!" + +And he took Wolfgang in hand. "Now listen, you must not always be +worrying your mother like that. If I notice once more that she is +grieving about you because you are naughty, you shall see what I'll do +to you." + +Did he worry his mother? Wolfgang looked very blank. And surely it +was not naughty of him to want to go to the Laemkes? It worried him to +have to sit indoors, whilst the wind was whistling outside and playing +about with one's hair in such a jolly manner. And it worried him, too, +that he was not going to the Laemkes that day. + +"Well then, go," said Kate. She even drove into Berlin before dinner +and bought a doll, a pretty doll with fair locks, eyes that opened and +shut, and a pink dress. "Take it to Frida for her birthday when you +go," she said in the afternoon, putting it into the boy's hands. "Stop! +Be careful!" + +He had seized hold of it impetuously, he was so delighted to be able +to bring Frida something. And in a rare fit of emotion--he was no +friend of caresses--he put up his face in an outburst of gratitude and +let his mother kiss him. He did not want her kiss, but he +submitted to it, she felt that very well, but still she was glad, and +she followed him with her eyes with a smile that lighted up her whole +face. + +"But you must be home again before dark," she called out to him at +the last moment. Had he heard her? + +How he ran off, as light-footed as a stag. She had never seen any +child run so quickly. He threw up his straight legs that his heels +touched his thighs every time. The wind blew his broad-brimmed sailor +hat back, then he tore it off and ran on bareheaded, he was in such a +hurry. + +What was it that drew him so powerfully to those people? + +The smile disappeared from Kate's face; she left the window. + +Wolfgang was happy. He was sitting with the Laemkes, in the room in +which they also did the cooking when the weather was cold. The parents' +bed was divided off by means of a curtain, Frida slept on the sofa, and +Artur in the little room next to it in which were also kept the shovels +and brooms which Laemke used for cleaning the house and street. + +It was not winter yet, still pleasant autumn, but the room was +already warm and cosy. The stronger smell of the coffee, which Frau +Laemke was making in the large enamelled pot, mingled with the delicate +fragrance of the pale monthly rose and carnation, myrtle and geranium, +which had been pushed close to the window that was almost level with +the ground and were all in flower. At home Wolfgang never got coffee, +but he got some there; and he sipped it as he saw the others do, only +he was even more delighted with it than they. And no fine pastry had +ever tasted so good as did that plain bun, that was more like bread +than like a cake. He ate it with his mouth open, and when Mrs. +Laemke pushed a second one to him, the guest of honour, he took it with +radiant eyes. + +Frau Laemke felt much flattered at his visit. But she had not made +much of the doll; she had taken it from Frida at once and locked it +into the cupboard: "So that you don't smash it at once. Besides, your +father isn't a gentleman that you can play with dolls every day." But +later on when her husband came down from the lodge, in which he sat in +his leisure hours mending boots and shoes, to drink a cup of coffee and +eat a bun on Frida's birthday, the doll was fetched out again and shown +him. + +"Fine, isn't it? She's got it from Wolfgang's mamma. Just look, +Laemke"--the woman lifted the doll's pink dress up and showed the white +petticoat trimmed with a frill edged with narrow lace--"such trimming. +Just like that I sewed round the dress Frida wore at her christening. +She was the first one; bless you, and you think at the time it's +something wonderful. Oh dear!"--she sighed and laid the doll back in +the cupboard in which the clean pillowcases and Frida's and her Sunday +hats were together with all kinds of odds and ends--"how time flies. +Now she's already nine." + +"Ten," corrected Frida. "I'm ten to-day, mother." + +"Right--dear me, are you already ten?" The woman laughed and shook +her head, surprised at her own forgetfulness. And then she nodded to +her husband: "Do you still remember, Laemke, when she was born?" + +"If I remember!" he said, pouring another cup out of the +inexhaustible coffee-pot. "Those were nice carryings-on when she was +born--none of that again, thanks. The girl gave you a lot of trouble. +And me too; I was terribly afraid. But that's ten years since, old +woman--why, it's almost forgotten." + +"And if it had happened a hundred years ago I shouldn't have +forgotten it, oh no." The woman put out her hand as though to ward off +something. "I was just going to make myself some coffee about four +o'clock in the afternoon, like to-day, I had got such a longing for it, +and then it started. I just got as far as the passage--do you remember, +you were still working in Stiller's workshop at the time, and we lived +in the Alte Jakob, fifth storey to the left?--and I knocked at +Fritze's, the necktie maker's, whose door was opposite ours, and said: +'Oh, please,' I said, 'send your little one as quickly as you can to +Frau Wadlern, 10, Spittelmarkt, she knows all about it'--oh dear, how +bad I felt. And I fell down on the nearest chair; they had the greatest +difficulty to get me home again. And now it began, I could not control +myself however much I tried; I believe they heard me scream three +houses off. And it lasted, it lasted--evening came on--you came +home--it was midnight--five, six, seven in the morning--then at last at +nine o'clock Frau Wadlern said: 'The child, it'll soon be----'" + +"That's enough now, mother," interrupted the man, glancing sideways +at the children, who were sitting very quietly round the table +listening, with wide-open, inquisitive eyes. "All that's over long ago, +the girl's here, and has been a credit to you so far." + +"She was born at eleven sharp," said Frau Laemke dreamily, nodding +her head at the same time and then drawing a deep breath as if she had +climbed a high mountain. And then, overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure +of a memory that was still so extremely vivid after the lapse of ten +years, she called her daughter, her first-born, to come to her on this +her tenth birthday. + +"Come here, Frida." And she gave her a kiss. + +Frida, who was quite abashed at this unexpected caress, +giggled as she cast a glance at her brother Artur and the two other +boys, and then ran to the door: "Can we go and play now?" + +"Be off with you." + +Then they rushed out of the dark cellar, where the Laemkes lived, in +high spirits. + +It was so light in the street, the sun shone brightly, a fresh wind +was blowing and somebody was flying a kite far away across the field. +There were very few people on foot and no carriages. The road belonged +to them, and they rushed to it with a loud hallo. The one who reached +the lamp-post at the corner first was captain. + +Wolfgang had never allowed anyone to deprive him of this honour +before, but he had to be policeman to-day, he had been the last. He had +followed the others slowly and silently. He had got something in his +head to think about, which made him dull and hindered him from running; +he had to think about it the whole time. He could not get rid of it +even when he was in the midst of his favourite game; the only time he +forgot it was when he was having a good scuffle with Hans Flebbe. The +latter had scratched him in the face, and so he tore a handful of his +hair out. They gripped hold of each other near the next garden-gate. + +Artur, a feeble little creature, had not taken part in the fight, +but he stood with his hands in his pockets giving advice in a +screeching voice to the two who fought in silence. + +"Give him it hard, Flebbe. Your fist under his nose--hard." + +"On with you, Wolfgang. Settle him. Show him what you can do." + +Frida hopped from one leg to the other, laughing, her fair plait +dancing on her back. But all at once her laugh became somewhat +forced and anxious: Hans, who was several years older than Wolfgang, +had got him down on the ground and was hammering him in the face with +his fist. + +"Flebbe, you--!" She pulled his blouse, and as that did not help she +nimbly put her foot out. He stumbled over it, and Wolfgang, quickly +taking advantage of it, swung himself up and belaboured his enemy. + +It was no game any longer, no ordinary scuffle between two boys. +Wolfgang felt his face burn like fire, he had a scratch on his cheek +that went down to his chin, there were sparks before his eyes. All that +had made him so silent before was forgotten, he felt a wild delight and +gave a loud roar. + +"Wolfgang, Wolfgang, no, that's not fair," cried the umpire. "That's +no longer fun." Artur prepared to catch hold of Wolfgang, who was +kneeling on his opponent's chest, by his two legs. + +A jerk and off he flew. Wolf now turned against him, trembling with +rage; his black eyes gleamed. This was no longer a well-dressed child +of better-class parents, this was quite an elementary, unbridled, +unconquered force. He snorted, he panted--at that moment somebody +called. + +"Wolfgang, Wolfgang." + +"Wolfgang," cried Frida warningly, "mother's calling. And your maid +is standing near her beckoning." + +Frau Laemke's voice was again heard, coming from the door of her +house: "Wolfgang, Wolfgang." And now Lisbeth's sharp tones were also +heard: "Well, are you soon coming? You're to come home." + +Frau Laemke laughed. "Oh, leave them, they were so happy." But she +got a fright all the same when she saw the boy's dirty clothes, and +began to brush them. "My goodness, what a sight your pretty blouse +looks--and the trousers." She turned red, and still redder when +she noticed the fiery scratch on the young gentleman's cheek. "They've +made a nice mess of you, the brats. Just you wait until I get hold of +you." She shook her fist at Hans Flebbe and her own children, but her +threat was not meant seriously. Then she said to Lisbeth in an +undertone and with a twitching smile round the corners of her mouth, as +she stood there motionless with indignation: "Wild brats, aren't they? +Well, it'll always be like that, we were all like that when we were +young." And, turning to Wolfgang again, she passed her gnarled hand +over his fiery scratch: "That was fine fun, eh, Wolfgang?" + +"Yes," he said from the bottom of his heart. And when he saw her +looking at him with eyes so friendly and full of comprehension, a great +liking for the woman sprang up in his heart. + +It had been a splendid afternoon. But he did not speak of it as he +went home with Lisbeth; she would have been sure to have turned up her +nose at it. + +"Hm, the mistress is nice and angry," said Lisbeth--she never said +anything but "the mistress" when speaking to the boy. "Why did you stop +there such an everlasting time? Didn't you hear the mistress say you +were to come home before it was dark?" + +He did not answer. Let her chatter, it was not at all true. He +stared past her into the twilight. But when he came into the room on +reaching home, he noticed that his mother had waited for him. She was +certainly not angry, but his evening meal, an egg, a ham sandwich, the +milk in a silver mug, everything neatly prepared, was already there, +and she sat opposite his place with her hands folded on the white table +cloth, frowning impatiently. + +The large hanging-lamp, which cast a bright light on the +table and made her bent head gleam like gold, did not brighten up her +face. + +His mother was in silk, in light silk, in a dress trimmed with lace, +which only had something that looked like a very transparent veil over +the neck and arms. Oh, now he remembered, she was to meet his father, +who had not come home to dinner that day, in town at eight o'clock, and +go to a party with him. Oh, that was why he had had to come home so +early. As if he could not have got into bed alone. + +"You've come so late," she said. + +"You could have gone," he said. + +"You know, my child, that I'm uneasy if I don't know that you are at +home." She sighed: "How could I have gone?" + +He looked at her in surprise: why did she say that? Had somebody +been telling tales about him again? Why was she so funny? + +He gazed at her with wide-open eyes, as though she were a perfect +stranger to him in that dress that left her neck and arms so bare. He +put his food into his mouth lost in thought, and munched it slowly. All +at once he had to think a great deal of what he had heard Frau Laemke +tell. His father and mother had never told anything about when _he_ was +born. + +And suddenly he stopped eating and launched the question into the +stillness of the room, into the stillness that reigned between him and +her: "When I was born, did it last such a long time too?" + +"When what?--who?--you?" She stared at him. + +She did not seem to have understood him. So he quickly swallowed the +food he still had in his mouth and said very loudly and distinctly: +"Did it last such a long time when I was born? It lasted very long when +Frida was. Did you scream too, like Frau Laemke?" + +"I?--who?--I?" She turned crimson and then very pale. She closed her +eyes for a moment, she felt dizzy; there was a buzzing in her ears. She +jumped up from her chair, she felt she must run away, and still she +could not. She clutched hold of the table with shaking hands, but the +strong oak table had turned into something that shook uncertainly, that +moved up and down, slid about. What--what was the boy saying? O +God! + +She bit her lips, drew a deep breath, and was about to say: "Leave +off asking such stupid questions," and yet could not say it. She +struggled with herself. At last she jerked out: "Nonsense. Be quick, +finish eating. Then off to bed at once." Her voice sounded quite +hoarse. + +The boy's astonished look fell on her once more. "Why are you all at +once so--so--so horrid? Can't I even ask a question?" And he pushed his +plate aside sulkily and stopped eating. + +Why did she not answer him? Why did she not tell him something like +what Frau Laemke had told her Frida? Had he not been born as well? And +had not his mother been pleased, too, when he was born? It was very +nasty of her that she did not tell him anything about it. Could she not +see how much, how awfully much he wanted to know something about +it? + +A burning curiosity was aroused in the child all at once. It +tortured him, positively devoured him. He would not be able to sleep +the whole night, he would have to think of it again and again. And he +wanted to sleep, it was tiresome to lie awake--he wanted to know it he +must know it. + +Kate saw how gloomy the boy's face had grown. Oh, the poor, poor +boy. If only she had not let him go to those people. What had he been +told there? What did he know? Had they made him suspicious? What +did those people know? Oh, they had made him suspicious, otherwise +why should he have tormented her with such questions? + +A burning dread filled her mind, and yet her hands and feet were +growing as cold as ice. But her compassion was even greater than her +dread--there he sat, looking so sad and with tears in his eyes. The +poor child, who wanted to know something about his birth, and whom she +could not, would not, dared not tell anything. Oh, if only she could +think of something to say, only find the right word. + +"Woelfchen," she said gently, "you are still too young to hear about +it--I can't tell you about it yet. Another time. You don't understand +it yet. When you're older--I'll tell you it another time." + +"No, now." She had gone up to him, and he caught hold of her dress +and held her fast. He persisted with the dull obstinacy that was +peculiar to him: "Now. I will know it--I must know it." + +"But I--I've no time, Woelfchen. I have to go--yes, I really must go, +it's high time." Her eyes wandered about the room, and she felt quite +flustered: "I--no, I can't tell you anything." + +"You will not," he said. "And still Frau Laemke told her Frida it." +The sulky peevish expression had disappeared from the boy's dark face, +and made way for one of real sadness. "You don't love me half so much, +not in the same way as Frau Laemke loves her Frida." + +She did not love him?--she did not love him?--Kate could have +screamed. If any mother loved her child it was surely she, and still +this child felt instinctively that something was wanting. And was not +that mysterious bond wanting that binds a real mother so indissolubly +and mysteriously, so intimately to her real child? + +"Woelfchen," she said in a soft tremulous voice, "my dear +Woelfchen," and she stroked his hot forehead with her icy cold hand. +"You don't mean what you are saying. We love each other so much, don't +we? My child--my darling child, tell me." + +She sought his glance, she hung on his answer. + +But the answer she longed for did not come. He looked past her. "You +see, you won't tell me anything." + +He seemed to harp on that. This burning desire had taken possession +of him all at once. Somebody had instilled it into him, there could be +no other explanation for it. "Who--" she asked hesitatingly--"who has +told you--you should question me in this manner? Who?" + +She had taken hold of his shoulders, but he wriggled away from under +her touch. "Oh, why are you so funny? No-nobody. But I should like to +know it. I tell you, I should like to know it. It worries me so. I +don't know why it worries me, that's all." + +It worried him--already? So early? Oh, then it was a suspicion, a +suspicion--who knew from whence it came? He suspected what had happened +in his earliest childhood unconsciously. What would happen? "O God, +help me!" she cried to herself. The point now was to invent something, +make something up, devise something. Those torturing questions must +never, never be asked again. + +And she forced herself to smile, and when she felt that her smile +was no smile, she stepped behind his chair and laid her cheek on the +top of his head and both her hands round his neck. He could not look +round at her in that way. And she spoke in the low voice in which fairy +tales are told to children. + +"Father and I had been married a long time--just think, almost +fifteen years!--and father and I wanted so much to have a dear boy or a +dear little girl, so that we should not be so much alone. One day I was +very sad, for all the other women had a dear child, and I was +the only one who had not, and I walked about outside and cried, and +then I suddenly heard a voice it came from heaven--no, a voice--a voice +that--and--and----" She got bewildered, stammered and hesitated: what +was she to say now? + +"Hm," he said impatiently. "And--? Tell me some more. And--?" + +"And next day you were lying in our cradle," she concluded hastily +and awkwardly, in an almost stifled voice. + +"And"--he had pushed her hands away, and had turned round and was +looking into her face now--"that's all?" + +"Well--and we--we were very happy." + +"How stupid!" he said, offended. "That's not 'being born.' Frau +Laemke told it quite differently. You don't know anything about it." He +looked at her doubtfully. + +She evaded his glance, but he kept his eyes fixed on hers. It seemed +to her as if those scrutinising eyes were looking right down into her +soul. She stood there like a liar, and did not know what more to +say. + +"You don't know anything about it," he repeated once more, bitterly +disappointed. "Good night." And he slouched to the door. + +She let him go, she did not call him back to give her his good-night +kiss. She remained sitting without moving. She heard his steps in the +room above. Now he opened the door to throw his boots into the corner +outside, now she heard them fall--now everything was quiet. + +Oh, what was she to say to him later on when he asked her questions +with full knowledge, a man justified in asking questions and demanding +an answer to them? She let herself fall into the chair on which he had +been sitting, and rested her head in her hands. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The boy's friendship with the Laemkes was restricted. Her boy should +never go there again. In a manner Kate had grown jealous of the woman +who spoke of such improper things and did not mind what she said when +children were present. + +Frau Laemke could not boast any longer of receiving a friendly +greeting from the fine lady. Frau Schlieben walked past her house now +without looking at her, and did not seem to hear her respectful: "Good +morning, ma'am." + +"Tell me, Wolfgang, what have I done to your mother?" she asked the +boy one day when she had been out shopping and saw him again for the +first time for several months. He was leaning against the railing that +enclosed the plot of ground opposite their house, staring fixedly at +their door. + +He gave a start; he had not heard her coming. And then he pretended +not to see her, and stood flicking the whip he held in his hand. + +"Are you never coming to see us again?" she went on. "Have you been +having a fight with Artur or been quarrelling with Frida? No, it can't +be that, as they've been looking out for you so long. I suppose your +mother won't let you, is that it? Hm, we're not good enough any more, I +suppose? Of course not. Laemke's only a porter and our children +only a porter's children." + +Her good-natured voice sounded mortified, and the boy listened +attentively. He turned scarlet. + +"Oh, I see, you are not allowed to. All right, stop away then, it's +all the same to me." She turned round to go, full of anger. + +"Well, what do you want now?" A sound from him made her stop; she +remained against her will. There was something in the glance the boy +gave her, as he looked her full in the face, that kept her standing. "I +know, my dear," she said good-naturedly, "it's not your fault. I know +that." + +"She won't let me," he muttered between his teeth, cracking his whip +with a loud noise. + +"Why not?" inquired the woman. "Hasn't she said why you're not to +play with Artur and Frida any more? Artur has got a new humming top--oh +my, how it dances. And Frida a splendid ball from the lady who lives in +our house." + +The boy's eyes flashed. He put out his foot and gave such a violent +kick to a stone in front of him that it flew over to the other side of +the street. "I shall play with them all the same." + +"Come, come, not so defiant," said the woman admonishingly. "It may +be the children were naughty--bless you, you can't be answerable for +all they do. Listen, little Wolfgang, you must obey your mother if she +won't hear of your coming." She sighed. "We've been very fond of you, +my dear. But it's always like that, the friendship is very warm to +begin with, and then all of a sudden the rich think better of it. And +you really are too big to sit with us in the cellar now----" + +She was chattering on, when she felt someone seize hold of her hand. +The boy held it in a very firm grip. Bending down to him--for +she was tall and thin and her eyes were no longer very good owing to +the demi-obscurity of their room--she saw that he had tears in his +eyes. She had never seen him cry before, and got quite a fright. + +"Hush, hush, Woelfchen. Now don't cry, for goodness' sake don't, +it isn't worth it." Taking hold of a corner of her coarse blue +working-apron--she had just run away from the wash-tub--she wiped his +eyes and then his cheeks, and then she stroked the hair that grew so +straight and thick on his round head. + +He stood quite still in the street that was already so sunny, so +spring-like, as though rooted to the spot. He who had shrunk from +caresses allowed her to stroke him, and did not mind if others saw it +too. + +"I shall come to see you again, Frau Laemke. She can say what she +likes. I will come to you." + +As he went away, not running as he usually did, but slowly and +deliberately, the woman followed him with her eyes, and was surprised +to see how big he had grown. + +Kate had no easy time. However much she fought against Woelfchen +having any intercourse with the Laemkes--positively stood out against +it--the boy was stronger than she. He succeeded in gaining his end; the +children were to come to him, even if he might not go to them. In the +garden, at any rate--he had wrung that concession from his mother. + +They had had a struggle, as it were--no loud words and violent +scenes, it is true, no direct prohibitions on her side, no entreaties +on his, but a much more serious, silent struggle. She had felt that he +was setting her at defiance, that the opposition in him increased more +and more until it became dislike--yes, dislike of her. Or did she only +imagine it? + +She would have liked to speak to her husband about it--oh, +how she wanted to do it!--but she dreaded his smile, or his indirect +reproach. He had said a short time ago: "It's no trifle to train a +child. One's own is difficult enough, how much more difficult"--no, he +should not say "somebody else's" again, no, never again. This child was +not somebody else's, it was their own--their beloved child. She gave +way to Wolfgang. Anyhow there was no danger if the children came to him +in the garden; she could always see and hear them there. And she would +be good to them, she made up her mind the children should not suffer +because she had already had to weep many a secret tear at night on her +pillow on account of their friendship. She would make her boy fond of +the garden, so fond that he would never long to go out into the street +again. + +But when she hid the coloured eggs on Easter Sunday, the day she had +given Woelfchen permission to invite the Laemkes and also the coachman's +son into the garden, and put the nests and hares and chickens into the +box-tree that was covered with shoots and among the clusters of blue +scyllas that had just commenced to flower, something like anger rose in +her heart. Now these children would come with their bad manners and +clumsy shoes and tread down her beds, those flower-beds with which they +had taken so much trouble, and in which the hyacinths were already +showing buds under the branches that protected them and the tulips +lifting up their heads. What a pity! And what a pity they would not be +able to enjoy this first really spring day quietly, listening +undisturbed to the piping blackbird. And they had even refused to come. +Hans Flebbe had certainly accepted the invitation without showing any +resentment--the coachman knew what was the right thing to do--but the +Laemkes did not want to come on any account--that is to say, +their mother did not wish it. Lisbeth had been sent there twice; the +second time she had come back quite indignant: "Really, what notions +such people have." "Dear boy, it's no good, they won't come," Kate had +had to say. But then she had noticed how downcast he looked, and in the +night she had heard him sigh and toss about. No, that would not do. She +wanted to feel his arm, which he had flung so impetuously round her +waist when she gave him permission to invite the children, round her +neck too. And then she had sat down and written--written to this +uneducated woman, addressing her as "Dear Madam," and had asked her to +let the children look for eggs to please Wolfgang. + +Now they were there. They stood stiff and silent on the path dressed +in their best clothes, and did not even look at the flower-beds. Kate +had always imagined she understood how to draw out children extremely +well, but she did not understand it in this case. She had praised +Frida's bran-new, many coloured check frock, and had lifted up her fair +plait on which the blue bow was dangling: "Oh, how thick!"--and she had +remarked on Artur's shiny boots and Flebbe's hair, which was covered +with pomade and which he wore plastered down on both sides of his +healthy-looking footman's face with a parting in the middle. She had +also made inquiries about their school report at Easter, but had never +got any longer answer than "yes" and "no." + +The children were shy. Especially Frida. She was the eldest, and she +felt how forced the friendly inquiries were. She made her curtsey as +she always did, quickly and pertly like a water wagtail bobbing up and +down, but her high girl's voice did not sound so clear to-day; the tone +was more subdued, almost depressed. And she did not laugh. +Artur copied his sister, and Hans Flebbe copied the girl too, for he +always considered all she did worthy of imitation. The two boys stood +there, poor little wretches, staring fixedly at the points of their +boots and sniffing, as they dared not take out their handkerchiefs and +use them. + +Kate was in despair. She could not understand that her Wolfgang +could find pleasure in having such playfellows. Moreover, he was +exactly like the others that day, taciturn and awkward. Even when they +commenced to look for the eggs, the children set about it very +stupidly; she had positively to push them to the hiding-place. + +At last, tired out and almost irritable, Kate went indoors; she +would only stop there a short time. No, she could not stand it any +longer, always to have to talk and talk to the children and still not +get any answer out of them. + +But hardly had she reached her room, when she pricked up her ears; a +cry reached her from outside that was as clear, as piercing and +triumphant as a swallow's when on the wing. Children shouted like that +when they were thoroughly happy--oh, she knew that from former times, +from the time before Woelfchen had come. Then she had often listened to +such shouts full of longing. Oh--_she_ had only to go, then the +children were merry, then Wolfgang was merry. She felt very bitter. + +She had gone to the window and was looking out into the garden, with +her forehead pressed against the pane. How they ran, jumped, hopped, +laughed. As though they had been set free. They were trying to catch +each other. Frida darted behind the bushes like a weasel, came into +sight again with a sharp piercing laugh, and then disappeared once more +with a shriek. Wolfgang set off after her wildly. He took no notice of +the beds in which the flowers were growing, his mother's +delight; he jumped into the middle of them, caring little whether he +broke the hyacinths or the tulips, his one thought being to prevent +Frida escaping. + +And the two others copied him. Oh, how they trampled on the beds +now. All three boys were after the girl. The fair plait flew up and +down in the sunshine like a golden cord, now here, now there. At last +Wolfgang seized hold of it with a triumphant shout. Frida endeavoured +to get it away, but the boy held it fast. Then she turned round as +quick as lightning, and, laughing all over her face, grasped him firmly +round the body with both hands. + +It was a harmless merry embrace, a trick of the game--the girl did +not wish to be caught, she wanted to pretend that she had been the +captor--it was quite a childish innocent embrace, but Kate reddened. +She frowned: hardly had she turned her back, when the girl from the +street showed herself. + +And the mother went into the garden again with a feeling of hatred +towards the girl who, in spite of her youth, already endeavoured to +attract her boy. + +If Kate had thought she would earn her boy's boisterous gratitude +that evening after the children had gone home, loaded with Easter eggs +and having had plenty to eat, she was disappointed. Wolfgang did not +say a word. + +She had to ask him: "Well, was it nice?" + +"Hm." + +That might just as well mean yes as no. But she learnt that it had +meant no when she bade him goodnight. It was his father's wish that he +should kiss her hand; he did so that evening as usual with an awkward, +already so thoroughly boyish, somewhat clumsy gesture. His dark smooth +head bent before her for a moment--only a short moment--his +lips just brushed her hand. There was no pressure in the kiss, no +warmth. + +"Haven't you enjoyed yourself at all?" She could not help it, she +had to ask once more. And he, who was candid, said straight out: + +"You always came just when it was nice." + +"Well then, I won't disturb you in the future." She tried to smile. +"Good night, my son." She kissed him, but after he had gone there was a +great terror in her heart, besides a certain feeling of jealousy at the +thought of being superfluous. If he were like that now, what would he +be later on? + +Wolfgang could not complain, his mother let the children come to him +in the garden as often as he wanted them--and he wanted them almost +every day. The friendship that had languished during the winter became +warmer than ever now that it was summer. + +"Pray leave them," Paul Schlieben had said to his wife, as she +looked at him with anxious eyes: what would he say? Would he really not +mind Wolfgang rushing about with those children in his garden? "I think +it's nice to see how the boy behaves to those children," he said. "I +would never have thought he could attach himself to anybody like +that." + +"You don't think it will do him any harm only to associate with +those--those--well, with those children who belong to quite a different +sphere?" + +"Nonsense. Harm?" He laughed. "That will stop of its own accord +later on. I infinitely prefer him to keep to the children of such +people than to those of snobs. He'll remain a simple child much longer +in that manner." + +"Do you think so?" Well, Paul might be right in a manner. Woelfchen +was not at all fanciful, he liked an apple, a plain piece of bread and +butter just as much as cake. But all the same it would have +been better, and she would have preferred it, had he shown himself more +dainty with regard to his food--as well as to other things. She took +great trouble to make him more fastidious. + +When the cook came to her quite indignant one day: "Master Wolfgang +won't have any more of the good saveloy on his bread now, nor of the +joint from dinner either, ma'am he says it's 'always the same.' What am +I to do now?" she was delighted. At last she had succeeded in +instilling into him that people do not swallow everything thoughtlessly +without making any choice, just for the sake of eating something. + +If she had seen how he stuffed bread and dripping with liver and +onion sausage on it down his throat at Frau Laemke's, or gobbled up +potato cake baked in oil hot from the pan, she would not have been so +delighted. But now she was grateful for every finer feeling she thought +she observed in him, be it ever so small. She did not notice at all +what tortures she caused herself in this manner. + +Oh, why did not her husband help her to train him? If only he would. +But he no longer understood her. + +Paul Schlieben had given up remonstrating with his wife. He had done +so several times, but what he had said had had no effect owing to the +obstinacy with which she held fast to her principles. Why should he +quarrel with her? They had lived so many years happily together--it +would soon be their silver wedding--and was this child, this boy who +could hardly write correctly as yet, into whose head the master was +just drilling the first rules in Latin--this child who after all had +nothing to do either with her or him--this outsider to separate him and +his wife now after they had been married so long? Rather than that it +would be better to let many things pass which it would perhaps +have been better for Kate to have done differently. Let her see how she +could manage the boy in her way--she was so very fond of him. And when +he, no longer the plaything, had outgrown her delicate hands, then he, +the man, was still there to make him feel a more vigorous hand. +Fortunately there was no deceit in the boy. + +Paul Schlieben was not dissatisfied with Wolfgang. He certainly did +not show any brilliancy at school, he did not belong to the top boys of +his form by any means, but still he kept quite respectably in the +middle of it. Well, there was no need for him to be a scholar. + +Paul Schlieben had not the same opinion as formerly of the things he +used to find in his younger years the only ones worth considering: +science, art, and their study. Now he was content with his calling as +merchant. And as this child had come into his life, had come into that +position without having done anything to bring it about himself, it was +the duty of him who allowed himself to be called "father" by him to +prepare a future for him. So the man mapped out a certain plan. When +the boy had got so far as to pass the examination that entitled him to +one year's service in the army, he would take him away from school, +send him a year to France, England and possibly also to America, to +firms of high standing in each country, and then, when he had started +from the bottom and learnt something, he would make him a partner. He +thought how nice it would be then to be able to lay many things on +younger shoulders. And the boy would no doubt be reliable; one could +see that already. + +If only Kate did not expect such a ridiculous amount of him. She was +always after the boy--if not in person, then in her thoughts, at any +rate. She worried him--it could not be helped, he was not an +affectionate child--and did it make her happy? + +He had many a time given the boy an imperceptible, pacifying nod, +when his eyes had sought his across the table as though asking for +help. Yes, it was really getting more and more difficult to get on with +Kate. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The Schliebens went away. The husband had consulted the doctor with +regard to his wife, and he had ordered Franzensbad. But it was +absolutely impossible for him to accompany her there. He would employ +the time making some excursions on foot in the Tyrol, as it was a long +time since he had had a holiday. A couple of pounds less in weight +would do him no harm. + +But where was Wolfgang to be meanwhile? + +"At home," said his father. "He's old enough; eleven years. He is at +school in the morning and in the garden in the afternoons, and Hofmann +can come and see him every other day--to reassure you." + +It was an unbearable thought for the mother to leave the child +alone. She would have preferred to take him with her. But Paul had got +vexed: "What next?" And the doctor had said. "On no account." + +Then Kate had wanted to induce her husband to take the boy with him: +"How healthy it would be for him to run about to his heart's content +for once in a way." + +"It seems to me he does enough of that here. Really, Kate, the boy +is as strong as can be, don't always make such a fuss about him. +Besides, I'm not going to take him away from school when it's quite +unnecessary." + +To be sure, he must not lose his place in the form, and possibly +become one of the last. Kate was so ambitious on her son's account. But +as the July holidays were almost over and she had not gone away with +him during that time, which would have been more suitable, she would +remain at home for the present. She declared she could not go away. + +However, the doctor and her husband arranged everything without her; +the more nervously and anxiously she refused to go, the more urgent a +thorough cure seemed to be to them. The day of departure had already +been proposed. + +But Lisbeth gave notice beforehand: no, if the mistress was going +away for so long and the master too, she would go as well. Remain alone +with Wolfgang, with _that_ boy? No, that she wouldn't. + +She must have saved a tidy little sum during the well-nigh ten years +she had been in the house, for even the promise of a rise could not +keep her. She persisted in her wish to leave, and threw an angry look +at the boy, whose laughing face appeared outside above the windowsill +at that moment. + +Kate was beside herself. Not only because she did not want the +servant she had had so long to leave her, but she had reckoned so +firmly on Lisbeth keeping a watchful eye on the boy during her absence. +And it pained her that she spoke of Wolfgang in such a tone full of +hate. What had the child done to her? + +But Lisbeth only shrugged her shoulders without speaking, and looked +sulky and offended. + +Paul Schlieben took the boy in hand. "Just tell me, my boy, what's +been the trouble between you and Lisbeth? She has given notice, and it +seems to me she's leaving on your account. Listen"--he cast a keen +glance at him--"I suppose you've been cheeky to her?" + +The boy's face brightened: "Oh, that's nice, that's nice that she's +going." He did not answer the question that had been put to him at +all. + +His father caught him by the ear. "Answer me, have you been cheeky +to her?" + +"Hm." Wolfgang nodded and laughed. And then he said, still +triumphing in the remembrance: "It was only yesterday. I gave +her a smack in the face. Why does she always say I've no right +here?" + +The man did not tell anything of this to his wife; she would only +have brooded over it. He had not punished the boy either, only shaken +his finger at him a little. + +Lisbeth went away. She left the house, in which she had served +so long and faithfully and in which she had had to put up with so +much--as she weepingly assured her mistress, who was also overcome +with emotion--like an offended queen. + +Another maid had been engaged, one in whom Kate had certainly not +much confidence from the commencement--Lisbeth had straightway given +her the impression of being much more intelligent--but there was no +choice, as it was not the time of year when servants generally leave; +and she had to go to the baths as quickly as possible. + +So Cilia Pioschek from the Warthe district came to the +Schliebens. + +She was a big, strong girl with a face that was round and healthy, +white and red. She was only eighteen, but she had already been in +service a long time, three years as nurse at the farm bailiff's whilst +she still went to school. Paul Schlieben was amused at her--she did not +understand a joke, took everything literally and said everything +straight out just as it came into her head--but Kate called her +behaviour "forward." On the other hand the new maid was on better terms +with the old cook and the man-servant than Lisbeth, as she put up with +a good deal. + +"You can go away with your mind at rest," said Paul. "Do me this +favour, Kate, don't oppose our plan any longer. In six weeks you will +be back again quite well, God willing, and I shall not see these"--he +gave a slight tap with his finger--"these small wrinkles at +the corners of your eyes any more." He kissed her. + +And she returned his kiss, now when she was to be separated from him +for the first time since their marriage for so long; for they had +always, always travelled together before, and since Woelfchen had come +to the house he had only once asked permission to leave her for a +fortnight at the most. She had never left the child alone. And now she +was to leave her dear ones for six long weeks. She clung to him. She +had it on the tip of her tongue to ask him: "Why don't you go with me +as you used to? Franzensbad and Spa--there's surely no great difference +between those two?" But why say it if he had never thought of doing so +for a moment? Years had gone by, and some of the tenderness that had +united them so closely before, that they could only enjoy things +together, and that made them feel they never could be separated, had +disappeared under the winged flight of time. + +She sighed and withdrew quietly from the arm that he had thrown +round her. "If anybody should come in and see us like this. Such an old +couple," she said, trying to joke. And he gave a somewhat embarrassed +laugh, as she thought, and did not try to hold her. + +But when the carriage which was to take her to the station in Berlin +stood before the door early one morning, when the two large trunks as +well as the small luggage had been put on the top of it, when he held +out his hand to help her in and then took a seat beside her, she could +not refrain from saying: "Oh, if only you were going with me. I don't +like travelling alone." + +"If only you had said so a little earlier." He felt quite perturbed; +he was exceedingly sorry. "How easily I could have taken you there the +one day, seen you settled there and come back the next." + +Oh, he did not understand what she meant by "if only you were going +with me." Stay with her there as well--that was what she had meant. + +Her sorrowful eyes sought the upstairs window behind which Woelfchen +was sleeping. She had had to say goodbye to him the evening before, as +she was leaving so early. She had only stood at his bedside with a mute +good-bye that morning, and her gloved hand had passed cautiously over +his head, that rested so heavily on the pillow, so as not to waken him. +Oh, how she would have liked to have said some loving words to him +now. + +"Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy," she said +quickly, hastily, several times after each other, to the cook and +Friedrich, who were standing near the carriage. "And take good care of +him. Do you hear? Give my love to the boy, give my love to the boy." +She could not say anything more or think of anything more. "Give my +love to----" + +Then the upstairs window rattled. Stretching both her arms out she +rose half out of her seat. + +The boy put his head out. His cheeks, that were hot with sleep, +showed ruddy above his white night-shirt. + +"Good-bye, good-bye. Come back well. And be sure to write to +me." + +He called it out in a very contented voice and nodded down to her; +and she saw Cilia's round, healthy, white and red face behind his and +heard her friendly laugh. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Kate did not know herself how she got over those weeks in which she was +separated from her home. It was not so bad as she had imagined. She +felt that a greater tranquillity had come over her, a tranquillity she +never could feel at home; and this feeling of tranquillity did her +good. She wrote quite contented letters, and her husband's bright +accounts of "magnificent mountains" and "magnificent weather" delighted +her. She also heard good news from Dr. Hofmann, who used to send her +his reports most faithfully, as he had promised. + +"The boy is in the best of health," he wrote, "you need not worry +about him, my dear lady. He certainly has to do without his playfellows +at present, for a boy and girl are ill, and he feels bored when alone +with the fat boy who is still left. He is generally by himself in the +garden; Friedrich has given him some lettuce plants, and he has also +sown some radishes. I have found him at his lessons as well." + +Thank God! It seemed to the woman as if she could breathe freely +now, as though free from a load. She carried the letter from her old +friend about in her pocket for a long time, read it whilst out for a +walk, when sitting on a bench and in the evening when lying in bed. "A +boy and girl are ill"--oh, the poor children. What could be the matter +with them? But thank God, he was mostly by himself in the +garden now. That was the best. + +She wrote a letter to her boy, a very bright one, and he answered +her in the same strain. The letter in itself was certainly rather +funny. "Beloved mother"--how comical. And the whole wording as though +copied from a polite letter-writer. She made up her mind to enclose it +in her next letter to her husband what would he say to it? "Beloved +mother"--but it pleased her all the same, and also "Your obedient son" +at the end of it. Otherwise the letter really contained nothing, +nothing of what he was doing, not even anything about the Laemkes, also +no longing "come back soon"; but it was written carefully, tidily and +clearly, not such a scrawl as he usually wrote. And that showed her +that he loved her. + +He had also enclosed a little picture, a small square with a border +of lace paper, on which there was a snow-white lamb holding a pink +flag. Under it stood in golden letters, "Agnus Dei, miserere +nobis." + +Where could he have got that from? Never mind from where, he had +wanted to give her something. And the small tasteless picture touched +her deeply. The good boy. + +She put the picture with the lamb of God carefully among her +treasures; it should always remain there. A tender longing came over +her for the boy, and she could not imagine how she had been able to +stand it so long without him. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +August was over and September already almost half gone when Kate +returned home. Her husband, who had returned before her, came to meet +her; they met in Dresden, and their meeting was a very cordial one. +He could never get tired of looking at her bright colour, her bright +eyes; and she on her side found him very sunburnt, more +youthful-looking and almost as slender as formerly. + +They sat hand in hand in the compartment he had had reserved for +them; quite alone like two young lovers. They had an enormous amount to +say to each other--there was nothing, nothing whatever that disturbed +them. They gazed at each other very tenderly. + +"How delighted I am to have you again," she said, after he had told +her a lot about his journey in a lively manner. + +"And I you." He nodded to her and pressed her hand. Yes, it really +seemed to both of them as if they had been separated from each other +for an eternity. He drew her still closer, held her as tightly as +though she were a precious possession that had been half snatched away +from him, and she clung to him, leant her head on his shoulder and +smiled dreamily. + +Innumerable golden atoms danced on a slender slanting sunbeam before +her half-closed eyes. The even rattling of the carriages and the calm +feeling of a great joy in her heart lulled her to sleep. + +Suddenly she started up--was it a jolt, a shock? She had all at once +got a fright, as it were: she had not asked anything about the child as +yet! + +"Woelfchen--what's Woelfchen doing?" + +"Oh, he's all right. But now tell me, darling, how did you spend +the whole day there? How was it divided? In the morning to the +spring--first one glass, after that a second--and then? Well?" + +She did not tell him. "Woelfchen is surely well?" she asked hastily. +"There must be something wrong--you say so little about him. I've had +such a misgiving the whole time. Oh dear, do tell me." Her voice +sounded almost irritable--how could Paul be so indifferent. "What's the +matter with Woelfchen?" + +"The matter?" He looked at her in great surprise. "But why must +there be something the matter with him? He's as strong as a horse." + +"Really? But tell me, tell me something about him." + +He smiled at her impatience. "What is there to tell about such a +boy? He sleeps, eats, drinks, goes to school, comes home, runs out into +the garden, sleeps, eats, drinks again and so on, vegetates like the +plants in the sunshine. It's much better for you to tell me how you +are." + +"Oh, I--I--" that seemed so superfluous to her all at +once--"I--quite well, you can see that." How indifferent he was with +regard to the child. And she--his mother--had been able to forget him +so long too? She felt so ashamed of herself that she hastily raised her +head from her husband's shoulder and sat up straight. Now they were not +lovers any longer, only parents who had to think about their child. + +And she only spoke of the boy. + +Paul felt the sudden change in his wife. It depressed him: had they +gone back to where they were before? Did she already feel no interest +again in anything but the boy? He no longer felt any inclination to +speak of his journey. + +The conversation became more and more monosyllabic; he bought a +paper at the next station, and she leant back in her corner and tried +to sleep. But she did not succeed in doing so, in spite of feeling very +tired; her thoughts continued to revolve round the one point: so there +was nothing the matter with him. Thank God! How indifferent Paul was, +to be sure. Would Woelfchen be very delighted when she came home? The +dear boy--the darling boy. + +She must have slept a little at last nevertheless, for she suddenly +heard her husband's voice, as though far away, saying: "Get +ready, darling; Berlin," and she started up. + +They were already among the innumerable lines that cross each other +there. Then the train rushed into the glass-roofed station. + +"So we've got so far." He helped her out, and she began to tremble +with impatience. Would this running up and down stairs, this crossing +to the other side of the station, and then the waiting and watching for +the train to the suburbs never come to an end? Would not Woelfchen be +asleep? It would be dark before they got home. + +"Is the train soon coming? What time is it? Oh dear, what a long +time we have to wait." + +"Calm yourself, the boy is waiting for you, never fear. He sits a +long time with Cilia every evening; she hasn't much time for him during +the day. A nice girl. You've been very fortunate there." + +She did not catch what he said, she was thinking the whole time how +she would find him. Would he have grown very much? Have changed? +Children at his age are said to change constantly--had he grown ugly, +or was he still so handsome? But never mind! she used to attach more +importance to his outward appearance--as long as he was good, very +good, that was all that mattered now. In her thoughts she could already +hear his shout of joy, already feel his arms round her neck, his kiss +on her mouth. + +The wind, which had become pleasant towards evening after a day that +had been hot in spite of it already being autumn, fanned her face +without being able to cool her cheeks that glowed with emotion. As they +stopped in front of the house, which, with its balconies full of bright +red geraniums, lay prettily concealed behind the evergreen pines under +the starry September sky, her heart beat as though she had run much too +far and too quickly. At last! She drew a deep breath--now she +was with him again. + +But he did not come running to meet her. How strange that he had not +watched for her. + +"They'll be sitting in the veranda at the back," said her husband. +"They always sit there in the evening." He remained behind a little. +Let Kate see the boy alone first. + +And she hurried through the hall past the beaming cook and without +seeing Friedrich, who had donned his livery after decorating all the +rooms with the flowers he had raised himself; she neither admired +his successes in the garden nor the cake the cook had placed on +the festive-looking table. She ran from the hall into her small +sitting-room and from thence through the dining-room, the door of +which led to the verandah. The door was open--now she stood on the +threshold--those outside did not see her. + +There was only one of the shaded lamps on the veranda table that was +burning, but it was bright enough to light up the space around it. But +Cilia was doing nothing. The stocking she was to darn lay in her lap; +her right hand in which she held the long darning-needle rested idly on +the edge of the table. She was leaning back a little; her face, which +looked more refined and prettier in the twilight, was raised; she +seemed to be lost in thought with her mouth half open. + +Nothing was to be seen of Wolfgang. But now his mother heard him +speak in a tone full of regret: "Don't you know any more? Oh!" And then +urgently: "Go on, Cilia, go on, it was so beautiful." + +Ah, now she saw him too. He was sitting at the girl's feet, on quite +a low footstool, leaning against her knee. And he was looking up at her +imploringly, longingly at that moment, looking at her with eyes that +gleamed like dark polished agate, and speaking to her in a +tone his mother thought she had never heard from him before: "Sing, +Cillchen. Dear Cillchen, sing." + +The girl began: + + "Quoth she with voice subdued, 'Cease from quaking-- + +"Oh no. + + "Not in wrath am I before thee standing-- + +"No, not that, either. + + "Only why did I, weak one, believe thy vows-- + +"No, I don't know any more. Well, I never! And I've sung it +so often when I was at home. At home in the village when me and my +sweetheart went for a walk together. Dear, dear"--she stamped her +foot angrily--"that I could forget like that." + +"Don't be vexed, Cillchen. You mustn't be vexed. Begin again from +the beginning, that doesn't matter. I would love to hear it again, +again and again. It's splendid." + +"Cillchen--Cillchen"--how playful that sounded, positively +affectionate. And how he hung on her lips. + +Kate craned her neck forward; she was in the veranda now, but the +two had not noticed her yet. + +The girl sang in a drawling, sing-song voice as she had sung in the +village street at home, but the boy's eyes glistened and grew big as he +listened to her. His lips moved as though he were singing as well: + + "Satin and silk new-wed Henry cover; + Wealthy his bride, brought from land o' Rhine + But serpent stings tease the perjured lover, + Bid slumbers sweet his rich bed decline. + + "The clock strikes twelve: sudden are appearing + Through curtain fringe, fingers, slender, white. + Whom sees he now? His once dear----" + +The singer came to a standstill--suddenly the sound of a +deep-drawn breath passed through the veranda. The boy gave a terrified +shriek--there she stood, there she stood! + +"Why, Wolfgang! Woelfchen!" His mother stretched out her arms to him, +but he buried his head in the girl's lap. + +Kate frowned at the girl: what nonsense to sing such songs to +him. + +"Oh, the mistress!" Cilia jumped up, her face crimson, and let +everything she had on her lap stocking, darning ball, wool and +scissors--fall on the floor; the boy as well. + +Why were they both so terrified? Wolfgang stared at her as if she +were a ghost. + +He had risen now, had kissed his mother's hand, and mechanically +raised his face to receive her kiss; but his face did not show that he +was glad to see her. Or was it embarrassment, a boyish shame because +she had taken him by surprise? His eyes did not gaze straight at her, +but always sideways. Did he look upon her as a stranger--quite a +stranger? + +An inexpressible disappointment filled the heart of the woman who +had just returned home, and her voice sounded harsh without intending +it as she told the girl to go away. She sat down on the seat near the +table, which she had just vacated, and drew her boy toward her. + +"How have you got on, Woelfchen? Tell me--well?" + +He nodded. + +"Have you missed your mother a little?" + +He nodded again. + +"I've brought such a lot of pretty things for you." + +Then he grew animated. "Have you also brought something for Cilia? +She could find use for a workbasket with all kinds of things in it very +well: she has only an old one she used at school, you know. Oh, she can +tell such splendid stories--ugh, that make you shiver. And how she can +sing. Let her sing this one for you: + + "A smart pretty maiden, quite a young sprig, + A farmer did choose for his bride; + Her favours, however, to a soldier man jig, + And sly to her old man she cried-- + +"It's perfectly ripping, I can tell you." + +And he began to hum the continuation with a laugh: + + "He had much better toss the hay, hooray, + The hay, hooray----" + +"Hush!" She put her hand to his mouth. "That's not at all a nice +song--it's a horrid one. You mustn't sing that any more." + +"But why not?" He gazed at her with eyes round with amazement. + +"Because I don't wish it," she said curtly. She was indignant: she +would give the girl a bit of her mind to-morrow, yes, to-morrow. + +Her cheeks were no longer hot. A cold wind blew through the veranda, +which pierced her to the very heart. When her husband called out: "Why, +Kate, what have you been doing with yourself? Do take off your things +first," she quickly answered his call. + +The boy remained alone behind, and looked out into the mild night +that was now quite dark, with blinking, dreamy eyes. Oh, how +beautifully Cilia had sung. She would have to sing and tell him stories +to-morrow as well. But if she were to come there again! Never mind, +they would be sure to be able to find a place where they would be +undisturbed. + +Kate did not sleep at all that first night, although she was +dead-tired. Perhaps too tired. She had had a long talk about it with +Paul after they were in bed. He had said she was right, that neither +the one nor the other song was very suitable, but: "Good gracious, what +a lot of things one hears as a child that never leave any trace +whatever," he had said. + +"Not on _him_." And then she had said plaintively: "I've so +often tried to read something really beautiful to him, the best our +poets have written but he takes no interest in it, he has no +understanding for it as yet. And for such--such"--she sought for an +expression and did not find it--"for such things he goes into raptures. +But I won't allow it, I won't stand it. Such things may not come near +him." + +"Then let her go," he had said testily. He was on the point of +falling asleep, and did not want to be disturbed any more. "Good +night, darling, have a good night's rest. Now that you've come home +again you'll do what you think right." + +Yes, that she would! + +From that day forth she never let the boy out of her sight. And her +ears were everywhere. There was no reason to send the girl away--she +was honest and clean and did her duty--only she must not be alone with +Woelfchen again. Wolfgang was now in his twelfth year, it was not a +maid's place to look after him any more. + +But it was difficult for Kate to live up to her resolutions. Her +husband, of course, had claims on her too, and also her house and her +social life; it was not possible to shake off, give up, neglect +everything else for the one, for the child's sake. Besides, it might +make her husband seriously angry with the child, if she constantly went +against his wishes; she trembled at the thought of it. She had to go +into society with him now and then, he was pleased when she--always +well dressed--was in request as an agreeable woman. He was fond of +going out--and went, alas, much, much too often. So she instructed the +cook and the man-servant--even begged them earnestly to keep a watch on +what was going on. They were quite amazed; if the mistress was so +little satisfied with Cilia, she should give her notice; there +would be girls enough on the 1st of January. + +Kate turned away angrily: how horrid of the servants to want to +drive the other away. And if another one came into the house, might it +not be exactly the same with her? Servants are always a danger to +children. + +Wolfgang was developing quickly, especially physically. It was not +that he was growing so tall, but he was getting broader, becoming +robust, with a strong neck. When he threw snowballs with the Laemkes +outside the door he looked older than Artur, who was of the same age, +even older than Frida. He was differently fed from these children. His +mother was delighted to notice his clear, fresh-looking skin, and saw +that he had plenty of warm baths and a cold sponge down every morning. +And he had to go to the hairdresser every fortnight, where his thick, +smooth mop of dark hair, which remained somewhat coarse in spite of all +the care expended on it, was washed and a strengthening lotion rubbed +into it. The Laemkes looked almost starved when compared with him; they +had not recovered from the effects of scarlet fever very long. If only +Woelfchen did not get it too. His mother had a great dread of it. She +had kept him away from the Laemkes until quite recently; but there was +always the danger of infection at school. Oh dear, one never had peace, +owing to the child. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +They had had a splendid time out of doors. The lake that lies below +the villas like a calm eye between the dark edges of the woods was +frozen; Wolfgang and half of his form had been skating there. Kate had +also walked up and down the shore for some time after their midday +meal, watching her boy. How nicely he skated already. He was more +secure on his legs and skated better than many of the lads who +were describing the figure eight and circles, skating in the Dutch +style and dancing with ladies. He was always trying to do all kinds of +tricks already, he was certainly courageous. If only he did not fall +down or tumble into the water! And he was always skating into the +middle of the lake, where the wisps of straw had been placed to show +that it was dangerous. It seemed to the mother that nothing could +happen to him as long as she stood on the shore watching him +incessantly. But at last her feet were quite frozen, and she had to go +home. + +When the boy came home, as it was commencing to grow dark, he was +very bright. He spoke of the skating with great glee. "Oh, that was +ripping. I should like to run like that for ever--to-morrow, the day +after to-morrow--every day--and further and further every time. The +lake is much too small." + +"Aren't you tired at all?" inquired his mother, smiling at him. She +never grew weary of gazing at him, he looked so beaming. + +"Tired?" The corners of his mouth drooped with a smile that was +almost contemptuous. "I'm never tired. Not of such things. Cilia said +she would like to skate with me some time." + +"Well, why not?" His father, who was sitting at the table drinking +his coffee, smiled good-humouredly; it amused him to tease the lively +boy a little. "Then your mother will have to engage a second housemaid, +as long as there's ice on the ground." + +Wolfgang did not understand that he was bantering. He cried out, +quite happy: "Yes, she must do that." But then his face grew long: "But +she has no skates, she says. Father, you'll have to buy her some." + +"I'l be hanged if I will--well, what next?" His father gave a loud +laugh. "No, my boy, with all due respect to Cilia, it would be +carrying it a little too far to let her skate. Don't you agree with +me?" + +He looked at his wife, who was rattling the cups loudly, quite +contrary to her custom. She said nothing, she only gave a silent nod, +but her face had quite changed and grown cold. + +The boy could not understand it. Why should Cilia not skate? Did not +his mother like her? Funny. It was always like that, whenever there was +anything he liked very, very much, she did not like it. + +He rested his head on both hands as he sat working at his desk: it +felt so heavy. His eyes burnt and watered when he fixed them on his +exercise-book--he must be tired, he supposed. His Latin would not be +good. In his mind's eye he already saw the master shrug his shoulders +and hurl his book on to the bench over so many heads: "Schlieben, ten +faults. Boy, ten faults! If you don't pull yourself together, you'll +not get your remove to Form IV. with the others at Easter." + +Pooh, he did not mind much--no, really not at all. On the whole +nothing was of any importance to him whatever. All at once he felt so +dead-tired. Why did she begrudge Cilia everything? She told such +ripping stories. What was it she had told last night when his parents +were out and she had crept to his bedside? About--about--? He could not +collect his thoughts any more, everything was confused. + +His head sank on his desk; he fell asleep, with his arms stretched +out over his books. + +When he awoke an hour might have passed by, but he did not feel +rested all the same. He stared round the room and shivered. All his +limbs ached. + +And they hurt him the whole night through, he could not sleep; his +feet were heavy as he dragged himself to the lake to skate next +afternoon. + +He returned home from skating much earlier than usual. He did not +want to eat or drink anything, he constantly felt sick. "How green the +boy looks to-day," said his father. His mother brushed his hair away +from his forehead anxiously: "Is anything the matter with you, +Woelfchen?" He said no. + +But when evening came round again and the wind whispered in the +pine-trees outside and a ghostly hand tapped at the window--ugh, a +small white hand as in Cilia's song--he lay in bed, shivered with cold +in spite of the soft warm blankets, and felt his throat ache and his +ears tingle and burn. + +"He's ill," his mother said very anxiously next morning. "We'll get +the doctor to come at once." + +"Oh, it can't be anything much," said the man reassuringly. "Leave +him in bed, give him some lemon to drink so that he can perspire, and +then an aperient. He has eaten something that has disagreed with him, +or he's caught cold." + +But the doctor had to be telephoned for at noon. The boy was +slightly delirious and had a great deal of fever. + +"Scarlet fever!" The doctor examined his chest and then pulled up +the cover again very carefully. "But the rash isn't quite out yet." + +"Scarlet fever?" Kate thought she would have sunk down on her +knees--oh, she had always been so terribly afraid of that. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The clear frosty weather with the bright sunshine and a sky that was +almost as blue as in summer was over. Grey days with a heavy atmosphere +hung over the roof of the villa; Kate, who was standing at the window +in the sick-room, staring out at the tops of the pines that were +mourning in the dull mist with tired eyes, thought she had never seen +anything greyer. + +The disease had seized hold of the boy with powerful grip, as though +his vigorous, well-nourished body were just the sort of hot-bed for the +flames of the fever to rage in. The doctor shook his head: the scarlet +fever had taken such a mild form everywhere else except in this case. +And he warned them against the boy catching cold, prescribed this and +that, did his best--not only as his duty, no, but because he felt such +deep and hearty sympathy for them--he had always been so fond of the +robust lad. They all did their best. Every precaution was taken, every +care--everything, everything was to be done for him. + +Kate was untiring. She had refused the assistance of a nurse; she +violently opposed the wishes both of her husband and her old friend; +no, she wanted to nurse her child alone. A mother does not grow tired, +oh no. + +Paul had never believed that his wife could do so much and be so +patient at the same time--she, that nervous woman, to be so untiring, +so undaunted. She had always had a light step, now she could not even +be heard when she glided through the sick-room; now she was on the left +side of the bed, now on the right. She, whose strength gave way so +easily even if her intentions were good, was always, always on the +spot. There were many nights in which she did not get an hour's sleep. +Next morning she would sit like a shadow in the large arm-chair near +the bed, but still she was full of joy: Wolfgang had slept almost two +hours! + +"Don't do too much, don't do too much," implored her husband. + +She put him off with: "I don't feel it. I'm so fond of doing +it." + +How long was it to go on? Would, could her strength hold out? "Let +the girl sit up with him for one night at least. She would be so glad +to take your place." + +"Cilia? No." + +Cilia had offered her services again and again: oh, she would take +such good care of him, she knew how, for a little brother of hers had +died of scarlet fever. "Let me do it," she implored, "I shall not fall +asleep, I'll take such good care of him." + +But Kate refused. It cut her to the heart every time she heard her +boy say in his feverish dreams during the nights that were so long and +so black: "Cillchen--we'll toss the hay--hooray--Cillchen." + +Oh, how she hated that round-cheeked girl with her bright eyes. But +she feared her more than she hated her. In the hours of darkness, in +those hours in which she heard nothing but the sick boy's moans and the +restless beating of her own heart, this girl seemed to wander about in +another form. She appeared to her out of the night, large and broad, +she stationed herself boldly near the child's bed, and something of the +triumph of power flashed in her eyes, that were otherwise so dull and +unintelligent. + +Then the tired-out woman would press her hands to her throbbing +temples, and stretch out her arms as though to ward her off: no, no, +you there, go away! But the phantom remained standing at the child's +bed. Who was it: the mother--the Venn--the maid--Frau Laemke? Oh, they +were all one. + +Tears of anguish rolled down Kate's cheeks. How the boy laughed now. +She stooped over him so closely that their breaths intermingled, as she +had done once before, and whispered to him: "Your mammy is here, your +mammy is with you." + +But he made no sign of recognition. + +Cilia's face was swollen with weeping as she opened the kitchen door +in the basement on hearing somebody give a gentle knock. Frau Laemke +greeted her in a whisper; she had always sent the children so +far, but they had come home the day before with such a confusing +report, that her anxiety impelled her to come herself. She wanted to +ask how he was getting on. Two doctors' carriages stood outside the +gate, and that had terrified her anew. + +"How is he? How is he to-day?" + +The girl burst into tears. She drew the woman into the kitchen in +silence, where she found the cook leaning against the fireplace without +stirring any pan, and Friedrich just rushing upstairs to answer the +electric bell as if somebody were in pursuit of him. + +"Dear, dear!" Frau Laemke clasped her hands. "Is the boy so bad, +really so bad?" + +Cilia only nodded and hid her streaming eyes in her apron, but the +cook said dully: "It's about over." + +"About over? Will he really die Wolfgang, the boy?" The woman stared +incredulously: that was impossible. But she had turned terribly +pale. + +"Well, it's bad enough," said the cook. "Our doctor has called in +another professor, a very well-known one--he was here yesterday--but +they don't believe that they can do anything more. The illness has +attacked the kidneys and heart. He no longer knows anybody, you know. I +was in the room this morning, I wanted to see him once more--there he +lay quite stiff and silent, as though made of wax. I don't believe +he'll pull through." The good-natured woman wept. + +They all three wept, sitting round the kitchen table. Frau Laemke +entirely forgot that she had made up her mind never to enter that +kitchen again, and that her cabbage, that she had put on for their +dinner, was probably burning. "Oh, dear, oh dear," she repeated again +and again, "how will she get over it? Such a child--and an only child, +whom she adored so." + +Upstairs the doctors were standing at the sick-bed, the old family +doctor and the great authority, who was still a young man. They were +standing on the right and the left of it. + +The rash had quite disappeared; there was not a trace of red on the +boy's face now, and his eyes with their extremely black lashes remained +persistently closed. His lips were blue. His broad chest, which was +quite sunken now, trembled and laboured. + +At every gasping breath he took his mother gasped too. She was +sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, stiffly erect; she had sat +like that the whole night. Her piercing eyes with their terrified +expression flew to the doctors' grave faces, and then stared past them +into space. There they stood, to the right and to the left--but there, +there!--did they not see it?--there at the head of the bed stood +Death! + +She started up with an inarticulate sound, then sank down again as +though broken in spirit. + +The doctors had given the child, who was so dangerously ill, an +injection; his heart was very weak, which made them fear the worst. +Then the authority took leave: "I'll come again to-morrow"--but a shrug +of the shoulders and a "Who knows?" lay in that "I'll come again +to-morrow." + +The family doctor was still there; he could not leave them, as he +was their friend. Kate had clung to him: "Help! Help my child!" Now he +was sitting with Paul Schlieben downstairs in his study; Kate had +wished to remain alone with the sick boy, she only wanted to know that +he was near. + +The two men sat in silence with a glass of strong wine before them. +"Drink, do drink, my dear friend," Paul Schlieben had said to the +doctor; but he did not drink himself. How will she stand it, how will +she stand it? That buzzed in his head the whole time. He was +wrapped in thought, and there were deep lines on his forehead. And the +doctor did not disturb him. + +Kate was on her knees upstairs. She had sunk down in front of the +chair in which she had watched through all those anxious nights, and +was holding her hands pressed against her upturned face. She was +seeking the God on high who had once upon a time laid the child so +benignantly in her path, and was now going to cruelly tear it away from +her again. She cried to God in her heart. + +"O God, O God, don't take him from me. Thou must not take him from +me. I have nothing else in the world beside him. God, God!" + +Her surroundings, all her other possessions--also her husband--were +forgotten. She had only the child now. That one child that was so dear, +so good, so clever, so excellent, so obedient, so beautiful, so +charming, so extremely lovable, that had made her life so happy, so +rich that she would be poor, poor as a beggar were he to leave her. + +"Woelfchen, my Woelfchen!" + +How dear he had always, always been; so entirely her child. She did +not remember anything more about the tears she had shed on his account; +if she had ever shed any, they had been tears of joy, yes, only tears +of joy. No, she could not do without him. + +Starting up from the position in which she had been praying she +dragged herself to his bedside. She took his body, which was growing +cold, into her arms and laid it on her breast in her despair, and her +glowing breath passed all over him. She wanted to let all her warmth +stream into him, to hold him fast to this earth with the force of her +will-power. When his breast fought for air, her breast fought too, when +his heart-beat flagged, hers flagged too. She felt that his +coldness was making her cold, that her arms were stiffening. But she +did not let him go. She fought with Death standing at the head of the +bed--who was stronger, Death or her love, the mother's love? + +Nobody could get her away from the boy's bed, not even the nurse +whom Dr. Hofmann had sent out when he had at last been compelled to go +to town that afternoon. The nurse and her husband attempted to raise +her by gentle force: "Only an hour's rest, only half an hour's. In the +next room or here on the sofa." + +But she shook her head and remained on her knees: "I'm holding him, +I'm holding him." + +Evening came on. Then midnight. It had blown a good deal earlier in +the day, but it was very quiet outside now. As quiet as death. There +was no longer any wind to shake the pines around the house; they stood +bolt upright against the clear, frosty sky, their tops as though cut +out of stiff cardboard. The stars blinked mercilessly; the full moon +was reflected on the glittering silvery surface of the frozen lake, +from which the strong wind had swept all the damp snow the day before +and made it clean. A terrible cold had set hi all at once, which seemed +to lay hold of everything with its icy breath. + +The watchers shivered with cold. When Paul Schlieben looked at the +thermometer, he was horrified to see how little it registered even in +the room. Was the heating apparatus not in order? You could see your +own breath. Had the servants forgotten to put coals on? + +He went down into the basement himself; he could have rung, but he +felt he must do something. Oh, how terribly little you could do. His +wife cowered in the arm-chair in silence now, with large, staring eyes; +the nurse was half asleep, nothing stirred in the room. The boy, too, +was lying as quietly as if he were already dead. + +A great dread took possession of the man, as he groped his way +through the dark house. There was something so paralysing in the +silence; all at once everything, the rooms, the staircase, the hall +seemed so strange to him. Strange and empty. How the breath of youth +had filled them with life before, filled them with the whole untamed +thoughtlessness of a wild boy! + +He leant heavily on the banisters as he groped his way downstairs. +Would the servants still be up? + +He found them all there. They sat shivering round the table in the +kitchen, which was as cold as though there had not been a bright, +blazing fire there all day. The cook had made some strong coffee, but +even that did not make them any warmer. An icy cold crept through the +whole house; it was as though the ice and snow from outside had come +in, as though the chill breath of frozen nature were sweeping through +the house too, from attic to cellar. + +It was no use throwing more coals into the jaws of the huge stove, +or that the water that streamed through all the pipes was hotter. +Nobody's feet or hands were any warmer. + +"We will try what a very hot bath will do for the patient," said the +nurse. She had often seen this last remedy rewarded with success in +similar cases. + +All hands were busy. The cook made a fire, the other two dragged the +boiling water upstairs; but Cilia carried more and was quicker about it +than Friedrich. She felt all the inexhaustible strength of youth in her +that is glad to be able to do something. How willingly she did it for +that good boy. And she murmured a short prayer in a low voice every +time she poured a bucketful into the tub that had been placed near the +bed. She could not make the sign of the cross, as neither of her hands +was at liberty, but she was sure the saints would hear her all the +same. + +"Holy Mary! Holy Joseph! Holy Barbara! Holy guardian angel! Holy +Michael, fight for him!" + +The cook, who remained downstairs in the kitchen, looked for her +hymn-book; she was a Protestant and did not use it every day. When she +found it she opened it at random: the words would be sure to suit. Oh +dear! She showed it to Friedrich, trembling. There was written: + + "When my end is drawing nigh, + Ah, leave me not----" + +Oh dear, the boy was to die. They were both as though paralysed with +terror. + +Meanwhile nimble Cilia was flying up and down stairs. She did not +feel so dismayed any longer. He would not die, she was sure of that +now. + +Whilst those who were in the room lifted him into the bath, Paul +Schlieben and the nurse, and his mother placed her feeble hands +underneath him to support him, Cilia stood outside the door and called +upon all her saints. She would have liked to have had her manual of +devotion, her "Angels' Bread," but there was no time to fetch it. So +she only stammered her "Help" and "Have mercy," her "Hail" and "Fight +for him," with all the fervour of her faith. + +And the boy's pallid cheeks began to redden. A sigh passed his lips, +which had not opened to utter a sound for so long. He was warm when +they put him back into the bed. Very soon he was hot; the fever +commenced again. + +The nurse looked anxious: "Now ice. We shall have to try what +ice-bags will do." + +Ice! Ice! + +"Is there any ice in the house?" Paul Schlieben hurried from the +sick-room. He almost hit the girl's forehead with the door as she stood +praying outside. + +Ice! Ice! They both ran down together. But the cook was at +her wits' end too; no, there was no ice, they had not thought any would +be required. + +"Go and get some, quick." + +The man-servant rushed off, but oh! before he could reach the shop, +awake somebody and return, the flame upstairs might have burnt so +fiercely that there was nothing left of the poor little candle. The man +looked round, almost out of his mind with anxiety, and he saw Cilia +with a chopper and pail running to the back-door. + +"I'm going to fetch some ice." + +"But where?" + +"Down there." She laughed and raised her arm so that the chopper +glittered. "There's plenty of ice in the lake. I'm going to chop +some." + +She was already out of the kitchen; he ran after her without a hat, +without a cap, with only the thin coat on he wore in the house. + +The terrors of the night gave way before the faint hope, and he did +not feel the cold at first. But when the villas were lost sight of +behind the pines, when he stood quit alone on the banks of the frozen +lake that shone like a hard shield of metal, surrounded by silent black +giants, he felt so cold that he thought he should freeze to death. And +he was filled with a terror he had never felt the like to before +a--deadly fear. + +Was not that a voice he heard? Hallo! Did it not come from the wood +that had the appearance of a thicket in the blue, confusing glitter of +the moonlight? And it mocked and bantered, half laughed, half moaned. +Terrible. Who was shrieking so? + +"The owl's screeching," said Cilia, and she raised the chopper over +her shoulder with both hands and let it whiz down with all her might. +The ice at the edge splintered, It cracked and broke; the sound was +heard far out on the lake, a growling, a grumbling, a voice out of the +deep. + +Would the boy die--would he live? + +The man gazed around him with a distraught look. O God! Yes, that +was also in vain--would also be in vain. Despite all his courage he +felt weak as he stood there. Here was night and loneliness and the wood +and the water--he had seen it all before, it was familiar to him--but +it had never been like this, so quiet and still, so alive with terrors. +The trees had never been so high before, the lake never so large, the +world in which they lived never so far away. + +Something seemed to be lurking behind that large pine--was a +gamekeeper not standing there aiming at him, ready to shoot an arrow +through his heart? The silence terrified him. This deep silence was +awful. True, the blows of the chopper resounded, he could hear the echo +across the lake, and nothing deterred Cilia from doing her work--he +admired the girl's calmness--but the menace that lay in the silence did +not grow any less. + +The distracted man shuddered again and again: no, he knew it +now--oh, how distinctly he felt it--nobody could do anything against +that invisible power. Everything was in vain. + +He was filled with a great grief. He seized hold of the pieces of +ice the girl had chopped off with both hands, and put them into the +pail; he tore his clothes, he cut himself on the jagged edges that were +as sharp as glass, but he did not feel any physical pain. The blood +dripped down from his fingers. + +And now something began to flow from his eyes, to drip down his +cheeks, heavy and clammy--slow, almost reluctant tears. But still the +hot tears of a father who is weeping for his child. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"Dear me, how big you've grown!" said Frau Laemke. "I suppose we shall +soon have to treat you as a grown-up gentleman and say 'sir' to +you?" + +"Never!" Wolfgang threw his arms round her neck. + +The woman was quite taken aback: was that Wolfgang? He was hardly to +be recognised after his illness so approachable. And although he had +always been a good boy, he had never been so affectionate as he was +now. And how merry he was, he laughed, his eyes positively sparkled as +if they had been polished. + +Wolfgang was full of animal spirits and a never-ending, indomitable +joyousness. He did not know what to do with himself. He could not sit +still for a moment, his arms twitched, his feet scraped the ground. + +His master stood in terror of him. He alone, the one boy, made the +whole of the fourth form that had always been so exemplary run wild. +And still one could not really be downright angry with him. When the +tired man, who had had to give the same lessons year after year, sit at +the same desk, give the same dictations, set the same tasks, hear the +same pieces read, repeat the same things, had to reprove the boy, +something like a gentle sadness was mingled with the reproof, which +softened it: yes, that was delight in existence, health, liveliness, +unconsumed force--that was youth. + +Wolfgang did not mind the scoldings he got, he had no ambition to +become head of his form. He laughed at the master, and could not even +get himself to lower his head and look sad when his mother waved a bad +report in his face in her nervous excitement: "So that's all one gets +in return for all one's worry?" + +How ambitious women are! Paul Schlieben smiled; he took it more +calmly. Well, he had not had the hard work that Kate had had. As the +boy had missed so many lessons owing to his illness, she had sat with +him every day, and written and read and done sums and learnt words and +rules and repeated them with him indefatigably, and set him exercises +herself besides the schoolwork, and in this manner he had succeeded in +getting his remove into the fourth form with the others at Easter, in +spite of the weeks and weeks he had been away from school. She had +drawn a deep breath of relief: ah, a mountain had been climbed. But +still the road was not straight by any means. When the first blackbirds +began to sing in the garden he became No. 15 in his form--that is to +say, an average pupil--when the first nightingale trilled he was not +even among the average, and when summer came he was among the last in +his form. + +It was too tempting to sow, plant, and water the garden, to lie on +the grass in the warm sunshine and have a sun bath. And still better to +rove about out of doors along the edges of the wood or bathe in the +lake and swim far out, so far that the other boys would call out to +him: "Come back, Schlieben, you'll be drowned." + +"Be thankful that there is so much life in him," said Paul to his +wife. "Who would have thought only six months ago that he would ever be +like this? It is fortunate that he isn't fond of sitting indoors. +'Plenty of fresh air,' Hofmann said, 'plenty of movement. Such +a severe illness always does some harm to the constitution.' So let us +choose the lesser of two evils. But still the rascal must remember that +he has duties to perform as well." + +It was difficult to combine the two. Kate felt she was becoming +powerless. When the boy's eyes, which were as bright as sloes, implored +her to let him go out, she dared not keep him back. She knew he had not +finished his school-work, had perhaps not even commenced it; but had +not Paul said: "One must choose the lesser of two evils," and the +doctor: "Such a severe illness always leaves some weakness behind, +therefore a good deal of liberty"? + +She suddenly trembled for his life; the horror of his illness was +still fresh in her mind. Oh, those nights! Those last terrible hours in +which the fever had risen higher and higher after the hot bath, the +pulse and the poor heart had rushed along at a mad pace, until the ice +from the lake had at last, at last brought coolness, and he had fallen +into a sound sleep, which, when the sky commenced to glow in the east +and a new day had looked in through the window, had turned into a +beneficial, miraculous perspiration. + +So she had to let the boy run about. + +But that he hung on Cilia's arm when she had to go an errand in the +evening, that he hurried after her when she only took a letter to the +box, or that he brought her a chair when she wanted to sit with her +mending-basket under the elderberry bush near the kitchen door was not +to be tolerated. When Kate heard that Cilia had not gone further than +the nearest pines on the edge of the wood when it was her Sunday out, +and had sat there for hours with the boy on the grass, there was a +scene. + +Cilia wept bitter tears. What had she done? She had only told +Woelfchen about her home. + +"What's your home to him? He is to mind his own business and +you yours." Kate was about to say still more, to cry out: "Leave +off telling him your private concerns, I won't have it," but she +controlled herself, although with difficulty. She could have boxed this +round-cheeked girl's ears, as she looked at her so boldly with her +bright eyes. Even Frida Laemke was preferable to her. + +But Frida did not show herself very often now. She already wore a +dress that reached to her ankles, attended a sewing class out of +school-hours, and after her confirmation, which was to be a year next +Easter she was to go "to business," as she said very importantly. + +"I shall give her notice," said Kate one evening, when Cilia had +cleared the table and she was sitting quite alone with her husband. + +"Oh!" He had not really been listening. "Why?" + +"Because of her behaviour." The woman's voice vibrated with +suppressed indignation more than that, with passionate excitement. Her +eyes, which were generally golden brown and gentle, became dark and +sombre. + +"Why, you're actually trembling! What is the matter now?" He laid +the paper he was about to read aside, quite depressed. There was some +trouble with the boy again; nothing else excited her in that +manner. + +"I can't have it any longer." Her voice was hard, had lost its +charm. "And I won't stand it. Just think, when I came home to-day I was +away an hour towards evening, hardly an hour good gracious, you cannot +always be spying, you demean yourself in your own eyes." Her hands +closed over each other, gripped each other so tightly that the knuckles +showed quite white. "I had left him at his desk, he had so much to do, +and when I returned not a stroke had been done. But I heard--heard them +downstairs, at the back of the house near the kitchen door." + +"Heard whom?" + +"Wolfgang and her, of course--Cilia. I had only been away quite a +short time." + +"Well--and then?" + +She had stopped and sighed, full of a deep distress which drove away +the anger from her eyes. + +"He put his arms round her neck from behind. And he kissed her. +'Dear Cillchen,' he said. And she drew him towards her, took him almost +on her lap--he is much too big for that, much too big--and spoke softly +to him the whole time." + +"Did you understand what she said?" + +"No. But they laughed. And then she gave him a slap behind--you +should only have seen it--and then he gave her one. They took turns to +slap each other. Do you consider that proper?" + +"That goes too far, you are right. But it's nothing bad. She is a +good girl, quite unspoilt as yet, and he a stupid boy. Surely you don't +intend to send the girl away for that? For goodness' sake, Kate, think +it well over. Did they see you?" + +"No." + +"Well, then, don't do it. It's much wiser. I'll speak to the boy +some time when I find an opportunity." + +"And you think I couldn't--I can't--I mustn't send her away?" Kate +had grown quite dejected in the presence of his calmness. + +"There's no reason whatever for it." He was fully convinced of what +he said, and wanted to take up his paper again. Then he caught her +eyes, and stretched out his hand to her across the table. "Dear child, +don't take everything so much to heart. You're making your life +miserable--your own, the boy's--and--yes, mine too. Take +things easier. There! And now I'll read my paper at last." + +Kate got up quietly--he was all right, he was reading. She had not +given him her hand. His calmness hurt her. It was more than calmness, +it was indifference, slackness. But she would not be slack, no, she +would not get tired of doing her duty. + +And she went after her boy. + +Wolfgang was already upstairs in his room. But he had first crept +softly up to Cilia, who was drying the plates and dishes in the +kitchen, from behind, had given her a pinch and then thrown both arms +round her and begged for a story: "Tell me something"--but she would +not. + +"I don't know anything." + +"Oh, do tell me something. About the procession. Or even if it's +only about your sow. How many little ones did she have last time?" + +"Thirteen." Cilia could not resist _that_ question, but still she +remained taciturn. + +"Is your cow going to calve this year too? How many cows has the +biggest farmer near you? You know, the one down near the Warthe, +Haulaender. Do tell me." He knew all about everything, knew all the +people at her home and all the cattle. He could never get tired of +hearing about them and about the country where the bells tinkle for +matins and vespers or call with a deep, solemn sound for high mass on +Sundays. He was so very fond of hearing about the country, about the +large fields in which the blue flax and golden rye grow, about the +bluish line of forest on the horizon, about the wide, wide stretches of +heath, where the bees buzz busily over the blooming heather and the +fen-fowls screech near the quiet waters in the evening, when the sky +and the sun are reflected red in them. + +"Tell me about it," he begged and urged her. + +But she was reluctant and shook her head. "No, go away; no, I won't. +The mistress has been looking at me like that again this evening--oh, +like--no, I can't explain. I believe she's going to give me +notice." + +He had crept up to his room in a sulk and undressed himself. He had +grown so accustomed to it that he could not sleep now when Cilia did +not tell him something first. Then he fell into such a quiet sleep, and +dreamt so beautifully of wide stretches of heather covered with red +blossoms, and of quiet waters near which the fen-fowls screeched, which +he went out to shoot. + +Oh, that Cilia, what was the matter with her to-day? How stupid! +"The mistress is going to give me notice." Nonsense, as if he would +stand that. And he clenched his hand. + +Then the door creaked. + +He craned his neck forward: was it she? Was she coming, after all? +It was his mother. He slipped hastily into bed and drew the covering up +to his forehead. Let her think he was already asleep. + +But she did not think so and said: "So you're still awake?" and she +sat down on the chair near his bed on which his things were. Cilia +always sat there too. He compared the two faces in silence. Oh, Cilia +was much prettier, so white and red, and she had dimples in her fat +cheeks when she laughed, and she was so jolly. But his mother was not +ugly either. + +He looked at her attentively; and then suddenly a hitherto quite +unknown feeling came over him: oh, what narrow cheeks she had. And the +soft hair near her temples--was--was---- + +"You're getting quite grey," he said all at once, quite dismayed, +and stretched out his finger. "There, quite grey." + +She nodded. A look of displeasure lengthened her delicate face, and +made it appear still narrower. + +"You should laugh more," he advised. "Then people would never see +you had wrinkles." + +Wrinkles--oh yes, wrinkles. She passed her hand over her forehead +nervously. What uncharitable eyes children had. Youth and beauty had no +doubt disappeared for ever--but it was this boy who had deprived her of +the last remnant of them. And it sounded like a reproach as she said: +"Sorrow has done that. Your serious illness and--and----" she +hesitated: should she begin now about what troubled her so?"--and many +other things," she concluded with a sigh. + +"I can understand that," he said naively. "You're so old, too." + +Well, he was honest, she had to confess that; but he said it without +a trace of tender feeling. She could not suppress a slight irritation; +it was not pleasant to be reminded of your age by your child. "I'm not +so old as all that," she said. + +"Oh, I don't mean either that you're _very_ old. But still much +older than Cilia, for example." + +She winced--he always brought in that person. + +"Cilia is a pretty girl, don't you think so, mother?" + +She got so angry that she lost control of herself. "Do you think +so?" she said curtly, rising. "She's leaving on the first of +October." + +"She's leaving? Oh no!" He stared at her incredulously. + +"Yes, yes." She felt she was cruel, but could she be otherwise? His +disbelieving tone expressed such terror. "She's leaving. I'm going to +give her notice." + +"Oh no, you won't." He laughed. "You won't do that." + +"Yes, I will." She emphasised each word; it sounded irrevocable. + +He still shook his head incredulously: it could not be. But then he +suddenly remembered Cilia's depression and her words that evening: "I +suppose she's going to give me notice." "No, you shan't do so." He +started up in bed. + +"I shall not ask you." + +"No, you shan't, you shan't," he cried. All at once Cilia moved +across his mental vision, her ingenuous eyes looked at him so sadly--he +liked her so much--and she was to go? He was seized with fury. + +"She shan't go, she shan't go," he howled, and shouted it louder and +louder: "She shan't go." He was in a mad, indescribable frame of mind. +He threw himself back, stretched himself out and struck the bedstead +with his feet, so that it creaked in all the joints. + +Kate was terrified; she had never seen him so violent before. But +how right she was. His behaviour showed her that plainly. No, she must +not call herself cruel even if his tears flowed; it was necessary that +Cilia went. But she was sorry for him. + +"Woelfchen," she said persuasively, "why, Woelfchen. She tried to +soothe him, and drew up his cover that had fallen down with gentle +hand. But as soon as she touched him he pushed her away. + +"Woelfchen--Woelfchen--you with your Woelfchen! As if I were a baby +still. My name is Wolfgang. And you are unjust--envious--you only want +her to go away because I like her better, much better than you." + +He shouted in her face, and she became deathly white. She felt as +though she must scream with pain. She who had suffered so much for his +sake was of less account than Cilia in his opinion? All at once she +remembered all the burning and ineffaceable tears she had +already shed for his sake. And of all the hard hours during his illness +none had been so hard as this one. + +She forgot that he was still a child, a naughty boy. Had he not said +himself: "I'm not a child any longer"? His behaviour seemed +unpardonable. She left the room without a word. + +He followed her with eyes full of dismay: had he hurt her? All at +once he was conscious that he had done so--oh no, he did not want to do +that. He had already got half out of bed to run after her on his bare +feet, to hold her fast by her dress and say: "Are you angry?"--when he +suddenly remembered Cilia again. No, it was too bad of her to tell her +to go. + +He wept as he crept under the bed-clothes and folded his hands. +Cilia had told him he was to pray to the Holy Virgin, to that smiling +woman in the blue mantle covered with stars, who sits on a throne over +the altar with the crown on her head. She healed everything. And when +she asked God in Heaven for anything, He did it. He would pray to her +now. + +Cilia had once taken him to her church, when his mother was at the +baths and his father in the Tyrol. He had had to promise her not to +tell anybody about it, and the charm of the secrecy had increased the +charm of the church. An unconscious longing drew him to those altars, +where the saints looked so beautiful and where you could see God +incarnate, to whom he had been told to pray as to a father. He had +never liked the church so much which his mother sometimes went to, and +in which he had also been. + +That longing, which had clung to him ever since like a fairy tale, +now came over him forcibly and vividly. Yes, it was beautiful to be +able to kneel like that before the Holy Virgin, who was lovelier than +all women on earth, and hardly had you laid your request +before her when its fulfilment was insured. Splendid! + +"Hail Mary!" Cilia's prayer began like that. He did not know any +more, but he repeated the words many times. And now he smelt the +incense again, which had filled the whole church with perfume, heard +again the little bell announcing the transubstantiation, saw the Lord's +anointed with the splendid stole over his chasuble bow first to the +left of the altar, then to the right. Oh, how he envied the boys in +their white surplices, who were allowed to kneel near him. Blessed +harmonies floated under the high, arched dome: + + "Procedenti ab utroque + Compar sit laudatio----" + +They had sung something like that. And then the priest had raised +the gleaming monstrance on high, and all the people had bowed deeply: +_Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum._ Yes, he had remembered +_that_ Latin well. He would never forget it all his life. + +Cilia had had to nudge him and whisper: "Come, we're going now," +otherwise he would have remained kneeling much longer in the +magnificent and still cosy church, in which nothing was cold and +strange. + +If only he could go there again. Cilia had certainly promised to +take him if she found an opportunity--but now she was to go away, and +the opportunity would never come. What a pity. He was filled with a +great regret and defiance at the same time; no, he would not go to the +church his mother went to, and where the boys from his school went. + +And he whispered again, "Hail, Mary!" and the hot and angry tears +that had been running down his cheeks ceased as he whispered it. + +He had climbed out of his bed, and was kneeling by the side of it on +the carpet, his clasped hands raised in prayer, as he had seen +the angels do in the altar-piece. His eyes sparkled and were wide open, +his defiance melted into fervour. + +When he at last got into bed again, and his excessive fatigue had +calmed his agitation and he had fallen asleep, he dreamt of the +beautiful Virgin Mary, whose features were well known to him, and he +felt his heart burn for her. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +It was a fortnight later, the first of October, that Cilla left her +situation. Kate had given her a good character; it was still not clear +to the girl why she had been dismissed, even when she stood in the +street. The lady wanted an older, more experienced maid--that was what +she had said--but Cilia did not quite believe that, she felt vaguely +that there was another reason: she simply did not like her. She would +go home for a short time before taking another situation, she felt +homesick, and it had been difficult for her to leave the place--on +account of the boy. How he had cried, even yesterday evening. He had +hung on her neck and kissed her many times like a little child, that +big boy. And there was so much he still wanted to say to her. They had +been standing together upstairs in the dark passage, and then the +mistress's step as she came up the stairs had driven them away; he was +just able to escape to his room. + +And she had not even been able to say good-bye to him to-day, the +good boy. For he had hardly gone to school when her mistress said: +"There, now you can go." She was quite taken aback, for she had not +reckoned on getting away before the afternoon. But the new housemaid, +an elderly person with a pointed face, had already come, so what was +there for her to do? So all she had done was to wrap up all the +pictures of the saints she kept in her prayer-book quickly in +paper, and stick them into the drawer in the table that stood at the +boy's bedside--he would be sure to find them there--after she had +written "Love from Cilia" on them. Then she had gone away. + +Cilia had sent her basket on by goods train, and she had nothing to +carry now but a little leather bag and a cardboard box tied with +string. So she could get on quickly. But on her way to the station she +stopped all at once: the school would be over at one o'clock, it was +almost eleven now, it really did not matter if she left somewhat later. +How pleased he would be if she said good-bye to him once more and +begged him not to forget her. + +She turned round. She would be sure to find a bench near the school, +and there she would wait for him. + +The passers-by looked curiously at the young girl who had posted +herself near the school like a soldier, stiff and silent. Cilia had not +found a bench; she dared not go far from the entrance for fear of +missing him. So she placed the cardboard box on the ground, and stood +with her little bag on her arm. Now and then she asked somebody what +time it was. The time passed slowly. At last it was almost one. Then +she felt her heart beat: the good boy! In her thoughts she could +already see his dark eyes flash with joy, hear his amazed: "Cillchen! +You?" + +Cilia pushed her hat straight on her beautiful fair hair, and stared +fixedly at the school-door with a more vivid red on her red cheeks: the +bell would soon ring--then he would come rushing out--then--. All at +once she saw the boy's mother. She? Frau Schlieben was approaching the +door with quick steps. Oh dear! + +A few quick bounds brought her behind a bush: did she intend +fetching her Wolfgang herself to-day? Oh, then she would have +to go. And she stole away to the station, full of grief. The joy that +had made her heart beat had all disappeared; but she still had one +consolation: Wolfgang would not forget her. No, never! + +Wolfgang was much surprised to see his mother. Surely he need not be +fetched? She had never done that herself before. He was disagreeably +impressed. Was he a baby? The others would make fun of him. He felt +very indignant, but his mother's kindness disarmed him. + +She was specially tender that day, and very talkative. She inquired +about everything they had been doing at school, she did not even scold +when he confessed he had had ten faults in his Latin composition; on +the contrary, she promised he should make an excursion to Schildhorn +that afternoon. It was such a beautiful, sunny autumn day, almost like +summer. The boy sauntered along beside her, quite content, dangling his +books at the end of the long strap. He had quite forgotten for the +moment that Cilia was to leave that day. + +But when they came home and the strange maid answered the door, he +opened his eyes wide, and when they sat down at table and the new girl +with the pointed face, who did not look at all like a servant, brought +in the dishes, he could not contain himself any longer. + +"Where's Cilia?" he asked. + +"She has gone away--you know it," said his mother in a casual tone +of voice. + +"Away?" He turned pale and then crimson. So she had gone without +saying good-bye to him! All at once he had no appetite, although he had +been so hungry before. Every mouthful choked him; he looked stiffly at +his plate--he dared not look up for fear of crying. + +His parents spoke of this and that--all trivial matters--and a voice +within him cried: "Why has she gone without saying good-bye to me?" It +hurt him very much. He could not understand it--she was so fond of him. +How could she have found it in her heart to go away without letting him +know where he could find her? His Cillchen to leave him like that! Oh, +she could not have done so--not of her own free will, oh no, no. And +just when he was at school. + +He was seized with a sudden suspicion: he had not thought of such a +thing before, but now it was clear to him--oh, he was not so stupid as +all that--she had had to go just because he was at school. His mother +had never liked Cilia, and she had not wanted her to say good-bye to +him. + +The boy cast angry glances at his mother from under his lowered +lashes: that was horrid of her. + +He rose from the table full of suppressed wrath, and dragged his +feet up the stairs to his room. He found the pictures of the saints +that had been stuck into his drawer at once--"With love from +Cilia"--and then he gave way to his fury and his grief. He stamped with +his feet and kissed the gaudy pictures, and his tears made lots of dark +spots on them. Then he rushed downstairs into the dining-room, where +his father was still sitting at the table and his mother packing cakes +and fruit into her small bag. Oh, she had wanted to go for a walk with +him. That would be the very last thing he would do. + +"Where has Cilia gone? Why haven't you let her say good-bye to +me?" + +His mother gazed at him, petrified; how did the boy guess her innermost +thoughts? She could not utter a word. But he did not let her speak +either, his boy's voice, which was still high, cracked and then +became deep and hoarse: "Yes, you--oh, I know it quite well--you did +not want her to say good-bye to me. You've sent her away so that I +should not see her any more--yes, you! That's horrid of you! +That's--that's vile!" He went towards her. + +She shrank back slowly--he raised his hands--was he going to strike +her? + +"You rascal!" His father's hand seized him by the scruff of his +neck. "How dare you? Raise your hand against your mother?" The angry +man shook the boy until his teeth chattered, and did so again and +again. "You--you rascal, you good-for-nothing!" + +"She didn't let her say good-bye to me," the boy screamed as an +answer. "She's sent her away because--because----" + +"You still dare to speak to----" + +"Yes! Why didn't she let Cilia say good-bye to me? She never did +anything to her. I loved her and it was for that, only for that----" + +"Silence!" He gave the boy a violent blow on the mouth. The man no +longer recognised himself; his calmness had abandoned him, the boy's +obstinacy made him lose his temper. How he struggled against the hand +that was holding him, how he stared at him with his bold eyes. How +dared he shout at him like that? "You"--he shook him--"so you are so +insolent? So ungrateful? What would have become of you? You would have +died in misery--yes--it's she who has made something out of you--who +picked you up out of----" + +"Paul!" His wife's scream interrupted the man. Kate seized hold of +his arm as though she were out of her mind: "No, no, leave him. You are +not to--no!" She held her hand in front of his mouth. And when he +pushed her away angrily and seized hold of the boy more firmly, she +tore him away from him and pressed his head against her dress +as if to protect him. She held her hand before his ears. Her face was +deathly white, and, turning her dilated eyes to her husband, she +implored him full of terror: "Not a word! I beseech you, I beseech +you!" + +The man's anger had not yet cooled. Kate must really have lost her +senses. Why did she take the boy away from the punishment he so richly +deserved? He approached the boy once more with a hard: "Well, really, +Kate I'm not going to condone this." + +Then she fled with him to the door and pushed him outside, bolted it +and then placed herself in front of it, as though to bar her husband's +egress. + +Now Wolfgang had gone. They were both alone now, she and her +husband, and with a cry full of reproach: "You had almost betrayed it +to him," she tottered to the sofa. She fell rather than sat down on it, +and broke out in hopeless weeping. + +Paul Schlieben strode up and down the room. He had indeed almost +allowed himself to be carried away by his indignation. But would it +have been a misfortune if he had told the boy about it? Let him know +where he came from, and that he had nothing, really nothing whatever to +do there. That he received everything as a favour. It was absolutely +unnecessary--in fact, more prejudicial than desirable--to keep it a +secret from him. But if she would not allow it on any account! + +He interrupted his walk to and fro, remained standing before his +wife, who was weeping in the corner of the sofa, and looked down at +her. He felt so extremely sorry for her. That was the reward for all +her kindness, her unselfishness, for all her devotion! He laid his hand +softly on her drooping head without saying a word. + +Then she started up suddenly and caught hold of his hand: "And don't +do anything to him, please. Don't hit him. It's my fault--he +guessed it. I did not like her, I gave her notice, and then I sent her +away secretly--only because he loved her, only for that reason. I +feared her. Paul, Paul"--she wrung her hands repentantly--"oh, Paul, I +stand abashed before the child, I stand abashed before myself." + +Wolfgang was sitting huddled up in his room, holding the pictures of +the saints in his hand. Those were now his most costly, his only +possessions; a precious memory. Where could she be now? Still in the +Grunewald? Already in Berlin? Or much further? Oh, how he longed for +her. He missed the friendly face that was always smiling secretly at +him, and his longing for her increased until he could not bear it any +longer. There was no one there who loved him as she did whom he loved +as he had loved her. + +Now that Cilia was gone he forgot that he had often laughed at her +and played tricks on her, and had also quarrelled with her in a boyish +manner. His longing for her grew and grew, and her figure grew as well. +It became so large and so strong, so powerful that it took his eyes +away from everything else that still surrounded him. He threw himself +on the carpet and dug his fingers into it; he had to hold himself in +that manner, otherwise he would have broken everything to bits, +everything, big and small. + +That was his father's step on the stairs. He shook the door-handle. +Let him shake it. Wolfgang had locked himself in. + +"Open at once!" + +Ah, now he was to have a whipping. Wolfgang wiped his tears away +hastily, gnashed his teeth and closed his lips tightly. + +"Well, are you soon going to do it?" The handle was shaken louder +and louder. + +Then he went and opened it. His father stepped in. Not with the +stick the boy expected to see in his hand, but with anger and grief +written on his brow. + +"Come down at once. You have hurt your poor, good--much too +good--mother very much. Come to her and ask her pardon. Show her that +you are sorry; do you hear? Come." + +The boy did not move. He stared past his father into space with an +unutterably unhappy, but at the same time obstinate expression on his +face. + +"You are to come--don't you hear? Your mother is waiting." + +"I'm not coming," Wolfgang muttered; he hardly opened his lips at +all. + +"What?" The man stared at the boy without speaking, quite dismayed +at so much audacity. + +The boy returned his look, straight and bold. His young face was so +pale that his dark eyes appeared still darker, a dense black. + +"Bad eyes," said the man to himself. And suddenly a suspicion took +possession of him, a suspicion that was old and long forgotten, but +still had slumbered in the recesses of his heart in spite of everything +and had now all at once been roused again, and he seized hold of the +boy, gripped hold of his chest so tightly that he made no further +resistance. + +"Boy! Rascal! Have you no heart? She who has done so much for you, +she, she is waiting for you and you, you won't come? On your knees, I +say. Go on in front--ask her pardon. At once." And he seized the boy, +who showed no emotion whatever, by the scruff of his neck instead of by +his chest, and shoved him along in front of him down the stairs and +into the room where Kate was sitting buried in her grief, her eyes red +with weeping. + +"Here's somebody who wants to beg your pardon," said the man, +pushing the boy down in front of her. + +Wolfgang would have liked to cry out: "No, I won't beg her pardon, +and especially not now"--and then all at once he felt so sorry for her. +Oh, she was just as unhappy as he--they did not suit each other, that +was it. This knowledge came to him all at once, and it deepened his +glance and sharpened the features of his young face so much that he +looked old beyond his years. + +He jerked out with a sob: "Beg your pardon." He did not hear himself +how much agony was expressed in his voice, he hardly felt either that +her arms lifted him up, that he lay on her breast for some moments and +she stroked his hair away from his burning brow. It was as if he were +half unconscious; he only felt a great emptiness and a vague +misery. + +As in a dream he heard his father say: "There, that's right. Now go +and work. And be a better boy." And his mother's soft voice: "Yes, he's +sure to be that." He went upstairs as though he were walking in his +sleep. He was to work now--why? What was the object? Everything was so +immaterial to him. It was immaterial whether these people praised or +blamed him--what did it matter to him what they did? On the whole he +did not like being there any longer, he did not want to stay there any +more--no, no! He shook himself as though with loathing. + +Then he stood a long time on one spot, staring into space. And +gradually a large, an immeasurable expanse appeared before his staring +eyes--cornfields and heather in bloom, heather in which the sun sets, +quiet waters near which a lonely bird is calling, and over all the +solemn, beautiful sound of bells. He must go there. He stretched out +his arms longingly, the eyes that were swollen with weeping +flashed. + +If they were to keep him with them, keep hold of him! No, they could +not hold him. He must go there. + +He crept nearer to the window as though drawn there. It was high up, +too high for a jump, but he would get down nevertheless. He could not +go down the stairs of course, they would hear him--but like this, ah, +like this. + +Kneeling on the window-sill he groped about with his feet to find +the water-pipe that ran down the whole side of the house close to the +window. Ah, he felt it. Then he slid down from the sill, only hanging +on to it by the tips of his fingers, dangled in the air for a few +moments, then got the water-pipe between his knees, let go of the +window-sill altogether, grasped hold of the pipe and slid down it +quickly and noiselessly. + +He looked round timidly: nobody had seen him. There was nobody in +the street, and there were only a few people walking in the distance. +He bent his head and crept past the windows on the ground-floor--now he +was in the garden behind the bushes--now over the hedge his trousers +slit, that did not matter--now he looked back at the house with a +feeling of wild triumph. He stood in the waste field, in which +no houses had been built as yet, stood there hidden behind an +elderberry-bush, of which he had planted the first shoot years before +as a child. He did not feel the slightest regret. He rushed away into +the sheltering wood like a wild animal that hears shots. + +He ran and ran, ran even when it was not necessary to run any more. +He did not stop until complete exhaustion forced him to do so. He had +run straight across the wood without following any path; now he no +longer knew where he was. But he was far away, so much was certain. He +had not got so far into the wood on his robber expeditions with his +play-fellows, and, in his walks, had never gone into the parts +where there were no paths whatever and where it was quite lonely. He +could rest a little now in peace. + +He threw himself on the ground, where the sand showed nothing but +fine grass and some bracken in small hollows. Trees in which there was +not the slightest motion towered above him all around, like slender +pillars that seemed to support the heavens. + +He lay there for some time on his back, and let his blood, which was +coursing through his veins like mad, cool down. He thought he could +hear his heart throb quite distinctly, although he could not account +for it--oh, it was pounding and stabbing so unpleasantly in his breast; +he had never felt it do like that before. But he had never run like +that before, at any rate since his illness. He had to fight for air, he +thought he was going to choke. But at last he was able to breathe again +more comfortably; now he had not to distend his nostrils and pant for +breath any more. He could enjoy the feeling of ease and comfort that +gradually came over him now. + +It was not yet dusk when he set out again, but still the light began +to show that it was October. There was a sweet softness, something +extremely gentle and glorified about the sunshine that fell through the +red branches of the pines, which also softened the wild runaway. He +went in a dream--whither? He did not know, he did not think of it +either, he only walked on and on, in pursuit of a longing that drew him +on irresistibly, that fluttered in front of him and cooed and called +like a dove seeking her nest. And the dove's wings were stronger than +the wings of an eagle. + +There were no people where the longing flew. It was so peaceful and +quiet there. Not even his foot made any noise as it sank into the moss +and short grass. The pines stood in the glow of the setting +sun like slender lighted candles. No autumn leaves lay on the ground in +which the wind might have rustled; the air swept noiselessly over the +smooth pine-needles and the colourless cones that had dropped down from +the tree-tops. + +Wolfgang had never known it was so beautiful there. He looked round +with amazed delight. It had never seemed so beautiful before. But it +was not like this, of course, where the villas were and the roads. His +eyes glanced curiously now to the right, now to the left and then in +front of him into the twilight of the wood. There, where the last gold +of the setting sun did not cling to the cleft bark like red blood and +the light did not penetrate, there was a soft mysterious dusk, in which +the mossy dark-green stems gleamed nevertheless. And there was a +perfume there, so moist and cool, so pungent and fresh, that the boy +drew a deep breath as though a weight had been lifted from his chest +and a new strength ran through his veins. + +The memory of all he had gone through during the day came back to +Wolfgang now in the deep calm. He pressed his hands to his hot +forehead--ah, now he noticed he had not even a cap on. But what did +that matter? He was free, free! He hurried on, shouting with glee, and +then he got terrified at the sound of his own loud voice: hush, be +quiet! Let him only not be shut up again, let him be free, free! + +He did not feel any more longing now. He was filled with a great +repose, with a boundless happiness. His eyes sparkled--he opened them +wide--he could not stare enough at the world, it was as though he saw +it for the first time to-day. He ran up to the trunks that seemed to be +supporting the heavens, and threw both arms round them; he pressed his +face against the resinous bark. Was it not soft? Did it not +cling to his glowing cheek like a caressing hand? + +He threw himself down on the moss and stretched his limbs and tossed +from side to side in high glee, and then jumped up again--he did not +like being there, after all--he must look about, enjoy his liberty. + +A single red stripe over the wood that was turning blue still showed +where the sun had been, when he became conscious of his actual +whereabouts for the first time. Here the former high-road from Spandau +to Potsdam had been; ruddy brown and yellow chestnuts formed an avenue +through the desolate country. The sand lay a foot deep in the ruts that +were seldom used now. Ah, from here you came to Potsdam or Spandau, +according to the road you took--alas, could you not already hear cocks +crowing and a noise as of wheels turning slowly? + +Deciding quickly, the boy turned off from the old high-road to the +left, crept through a bent barbed wire fence, that was to protect a +clearing which had lately been replanted, bounded like a stag over the +small plants that were hardly a hand's-breadth high, and looked out for +a cover. + +He did not require any, nobody came there. He walked more slowly +between the small trees; he took care not to tread on them, stooped +down and examined them, measured them out by steps as a farmer does his +furrows. + +And all at once it was evening. A mist had crept over the earth, +light and hardly visible at first, then it had risen and increased in +size, had slipped across the piece of clearing on the night wind that +was coming up, and had hung on to each gnarl like the beckoning veils +of spectres. + +But Wolfgang was not afraid; he did not feel any terror. +What could happen to him there, where the distant whistle of a train +was only heard at intervals, and where the wind carried the smoke it +had torn away from the locomotive like a light cloud that rapidly +vanishes? + +Just as if you were on the prairie, on the steppes, the boy thought +to himself, where there are no longer any huts and only the camp fires +send their little bit of smoke up as a token. A certain love of +adventure was mingled with the bliss of being free. He had always +wished to camp out. Of course he would not be able to light a fire and +cook by it; he had nothing to do it with. But he did not feel hungry. +There was only one thing he needed now, to sleep long and soundly. + +He lay down without hesitating. The ground was already cool, but his +clothes were thick and prevented the cold from penetrating. He made a +sort of pillow for his head, and lay with his face turned towards the +evening sky. Pale stars gradually appeared on it, and smiled down at +him. + +He had thought he would fall asleep at once, he felt tired out, but +he lay a long time with open eyes. An inexplicable sensation kept him +awake: this was too beautiful, too beautiful, it was like a splendid +dream. Golden eyes protected him, a velvety mantle enveloped him, a +mother rocked him gently. + +Longing, defiance, pain, fury, everything that hurt had disappeared. +Only happiness remained in this infinite peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Frida Lamke had now been confirmed. She wore a dress that almost +touched the ground, and when she saw Wolfgang Schlieben for the first +time after a long interval, her greeting was no longer the familiar +nod of childhood. But she stopped when she came up to her former +play-fellow. + +"Hallo, Wolfgang," she said, laughing, and at the same time a little +condescendingly--she felt so infinitely superior to him--"well, how are +you getting along?" + +"All right." He put on a bold air which did not exactly suit the +look in his eyes. + +She examined him; what a fine fellow Wolfgang had grown. But he held +himself so badly, he bent forward so. "Hold yourself up, for goodness' +sake," she exhorted, and she straightened her own rush-like figure. +"Why do you make such a round back? And you blink your eyes as if you +were short-sighted. Hm, you should be with my employer--oh my, she +would make you sit up." She chuckled to herself, her whole slender +figure shook with a secret inclination to laugh. + +"You're so happy," he said slowly. + +"Well, why shouldn't I be? Do you think such an old dragon can spoil +my good humour? Come, that would be stupid. When she scolds I lower my +head, I don't say a word, but I laugh to myself. Ha ha!" Her clear +voice sounded very gay. + +How pretty she was. The boy's dark eyes were fixed on Frida Laemke as +though he had never seen her before. The sun was shining on her fair +hair, which she no longer wore in a long plait, but in a thick knot at +the back of her head. Her face was so round, so blooming. + +"You never come to see me now," he said. + +"How can I?" She shrugged her shoulders and assumed an air of +importance. "What do you think I have to do? Into town with the car +before eight in the morning, and then only two hours for my dinner +always in and out and in the evening I'm hardly ever at home before +ten, often still later. Then I'm so tired, I sleep as sound as a top. +But on Sundays mother lets me sleep as long as I like, and in the +afternoon I go out with Artur and Flebbe. We----" + +"Where do you go?" he asked hastily. "I could go with you some +time." + +"Oh, you!" She laughed at him. "You mayn't, you know." + +"No." He bowed his head. + +"Come, don't look so glum," she said encouragingly, stroking his +chin with her fore-finger, and disclosing a hole in her shabby kid +glove. "You go to college, you see. Artur is to be apprenticed too, +next autumn. Mother thinks to a hairdresser. And Flebbe is already +learning to be a grocer--his father can afford to do that--who knows? +perhaps he may have a shop of his own in time." + +"Yes," said Wolfgang in a monotonous voice, breaking into her +chatter. He stood in the street as though lost in thought, his books +pressed under his arm. Oh, how far, far this girl, all three of them, +had gone from him all at once. Those three, with whom he had once +played every day, whose captain he had always been, were already so +big, and he, he was still a silly school-boy. + +"Oh, hang it all!" He hurled his pile of books away from him with a +violent gesture, so that the strap that held them together came undone. +All the books and exercise-books flew apart, and lay spread out in the +dust of the street. + +"Oh dear, Woelfchen!" Frida stooped down, quite terrified, and +gathered them all up. + +He did not help her to collect them. He stared in front of him with +an angry look. + +"There--now you've got them again," said the girl, who had grown +quite red with stooping so busily. She blew off the dust and pressed +them under his arm again. + +"I don't want them." He let them fall again. + +"Hm, you're a nice fellow. What can you be thinking of?--those +expensive books." She felt really quite angry with him. "Don't you know +that they cost money?" + +"Pooh!" He made a gesture as if to say, what did that matter? "Then +some new ones will be bought." + +"Even if your father has sufficient money," she said, firing up, +"it's still not right of you to treat these good books like that." + +He did not say a word to that, but took them up and fastened the +strap round them again. They stood together, both feeling embarrassed. +She glanced sideways at him: how he had changed. And he felt vexed that +he had got into a passion: what would she think of him now? + +"I shall have to go now," she said all at once, "or I shan't even +get my dinner eaten ugh, how hungry I am!" She put her hand on her +stomach. "How good it'll taste! Mother has potatoes in their jackets +and herrings to-day." + +"I shall go too." Suiting his step to hers he trotted beside her as +she tripped hastily along. + +She got quite red: what would her mother say if she brought +Wolfgang with her? No, that would really not do, this was just the day +when their room had not been tidied. And she had told a fib too: there +were no herrings, only onion sauce with the potatoes in their +jackets. + +She felt ashamed that Wolfgang should find it out. + +"No, you go home," she said, intrenching herself behind a pout. "As +you've not been to see us for so long, you needn't come to-day either. +I'm angry with you." + +"Angry with me--me? What have I done? I wasn't allowed to come to +you, I mightn't--that's not my fault, surely. Frida!" + +She commenced to run, her face quite scarlet; he ran beside her. +"Frida! Frida, surely you can't be angry with _me_? Oh, Frida, don't be +angry. Frida, let me go with you. At last I've met you, and then you +behave like this?" + +There was sorrow in his voice. She felt it, but she was angry all +the same: why should he cling to her like that? Flebbe would not like +it at all. And so she said in a pert voice: "We don't suit each other +and never shall. You go with your young ladies. You belong to +them." + +"Say that once more--dare to do it!" He shouted in a rough voice, +and raised his hand as though he would strike her. "Affected creatures, +what are they to me?" + +He was right--she had to confess it in her heart--he had never taken +any notice of the young girls who lived in the villas around him. She +knew very well that he preferred them to them all, and her vanity felt +flattered; she said soothingly, but at the same time evasively: "No, +Woelfchen, you can't go with me any more, it's not proper any more." And +she held out her hand: "Good-bye, Wolfgang." + +They were among the bushes in a small public garden in which there +were benches, the villas lying at a good distance from it, +quite hidden behind their front gardens. There was nobody in sight in +the quiet radiance of the noonday sun. But even if somebody had come, +it would not have made any difference; he seized hold of her with both +hands in a kind of rage. "I am going with you--I shall not let you +go." + +She resisted forcibly: what was the stupid boy thinking of? "Let me +go," she said, spitting at him like a little cat, "will you let me go +at once? You hurt me. Just you wait, I'll tell Flebbe about it, he'll +be after you. Leave me in peace." + +He did not let her go. He held her clasped in his arms without +saying a word, his books were again lying in the dust. + +Did he want to kiss or strike her? She did not know; but she was +afraid of him and defended herself as best she could. "You runaway!" +she hissed, "hm, you're a nice one. Runs away from home, hides himself +in the wood. But they got you all the same--and it served you +right." + +All at once he let her go; she stood in front of him mocking him. +She could easily have run away now, but she preferred to stand there +and scold him: "You runaway!" + +He got very red and hung his head. + +"How could you think of doing such a thing?" she continued with a +certain cruelty. "So silly. Everybody laughed at you. We positively +could not believe it at first. Well I never, said I, the boy runs away +without money, without a cap, without a piece of bread in his pocket. +You wanted to go to America like that, I suppose, eh?" She eyed him +from top to toe and then threw her head back and laughed loudly: "To +think of doing such a thing." + +He did not raise his head, only murmured half to himself: "You +shouldn't laugh at it, no, you shouldn't." + +"Come, what next? Cry, perhaps? What does it matter to me? Your +mother cried enough about it, and your father ran about as if he were +crazy. All the rangers in the district were on their legs. Tell me, +didn't you get a good thrashing when they dragged you home by the +collar?" + +"No." He suddenly raised his head and looked straight into the eyes +that were sparkling a little maliciously. + +There was something in his glance--a mute reproach--that compelled +her to lower her lids. + +"They didn't beat me--I wouldn't have stood it either--no, they +didn't beat me." + +"Shut you up?" she asked curiously. + +He did not answer; what was he to say? No, they had not shut him up, +he might go about as he liked in the house and garden, in the street, +to school--and still, still he was not free. + +Tears suddenly started to his eyes. "You--you shouldn't--shouldn't +taunt me--Frida," he cried, stammering and faltering. "I'm so--so----" + +He wanted to say "unhappy"; but the word seemed to mean too little +and in another way too much. And he felt ashamed of saying it aloud. So +he stood silent, colouring up to the eyes. And only his tears, which he +could not restrain any longer, rolled down his cheeks and fell into the +dust of the street. + +They were tears of sorrow and of rage. It was already more than six +months ago--oh, even longer--but it still enraged him as though it had +happened the day before. He had never forgotten for a moment that they +had caught him so easily. They had found him so soon, at daybreak, ere +the sun had risen on a new day. And they had carried him home in +triumph. What he had looked upon as a great deed, an heroic +deed, was a stupid boy's trick to them. His mother had certainly cried +a good deal, but his father had only pulled his ear: "Once, but not +more, my son. Remember that." + +Wolfgang was crying quietly but bitterly. Frida stood in front of +him, watching him cry, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears as +well--she had always been his good friend. Now she cried with him. + +"Don't cry, Woelfchen," she sobbed. "It isn't so bad. People don't +remember anything more about it--such things are forgotten. You +certainly need not feel ashamed of it--why should you? There's no harm +in your having frightened your people a little for once in a way. +Simply say to them: 'Then I'll run away again,' if they won't let you +come to us. Come next Sunday afternoon. Then I won't go with Artur and +Flebbe--no, I'll wait for you." + +She wiped her own tears away with the one hand and his with the +other. + +They stood thus in the bright sunshine amidst the flowering bushes. +The lilac spread its fragrance around; a red may and a laburnum strewed +their beautifully coloured petals over them, shaken by the soft wind of +May. The dark and the light head were close to each other. + +"Frida," he said, seizing hold of her hand firmly, as though +clinging to it, "Frida, are _you_ still fond of me, at any rate?" + +"Of course." She nodded, and her clear merry laugh was heard once +more, although there were still traces of tears on her face. "That +would be a nice sort of friendship, if it disappeared so quickly. +There!" She pursed up her mouth and gave him a kiss. + +He looked very embarrassed; she had never given him a kiss +before. + +"There!" She gave him another one. "And now be happy again, my boy. +It's such beautiful weather." + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +"You're late to-day," said his mother, when Wolfgang came home from +school at two instead of at one o'clock. "You've not been kept, I +hope?" + +A feeling of indignation rose in him: how she supervised him. The +good temper in which his friend Frida had put him had disappeared; the +chains galled him again. But he still thought a good deal of Frida. +When he was doing his lessons in the afternoon, her head with its thick +knot of hair would constantly appear behind his desk, and bend over his +book and interrupt him; but it was a pleasant interruption. What a pity +that Frida had so little time now. How nice it had been when they were +children. He had always been most fond of her; he had been able to play +better with her than with the two boys, she had always understood him +and stuck to him--alas! + +He felt as though he must envy, from the bottom of his heart, the +boy who had been the captain when they played at robbers in those days +and roasted potatoes in the ashes, nay, even the boy who had once been +so ill that they had to wheel him in a bath-chair the first time he +went out into the open air. The boy who sat at the desk now, staring +absently into space over the top of his exercise-book, was no longer +the same. He was no longer a child. All at once it seemed to Wolfgang +as though a golden time had gone for ever and lay far behind him, as +though there were no pleasures in store for him. Had not the clergyman +who was preparing him for confirmation also said: "You are no longer +children"? And had he not gone on to say: "You will soon have your +share of life's gravity"? Alas, he already had it. + +Wolfgang sat with knit brows, the chewed end of his penholder +between his teeth, disinclined to work. He was brooding. All manner of +thoughts occurred to him that he had never had before; all at +once words came into his mind that he had never thought of seriously +before. Why did the boys in his form constantly ask him such strange +questions? They asked about his parents--well, was there anything +peculiar about them?--and then they exchanged glances among themselves +and looked at him so curiously. What was so funny about him? Lehmann +was the most curious--and so cheeky. Quite lately he had blinked at him +sideways so slyly, and puffed up his cheeks as though they must burst +with laughter when he made the specially witty remark: "I'll be hanged +if I can see any likeness between you and your governor!" Was he really +not like his father or his mother? Not like either of them? + +When Wolfgang undressed that evening, he stood a long time in front +of the looking-glass that hung over his washstand, with a light in his +hand, holding it first to the right, then to the left, then higher, +then lower. A bright light fell on his face. The glass was good, and +reflected every feature faithfully on its clear surface--but there was +no resemblance whatever between his big nose and his mother's fine one. +His father's nose was also quite different. And neither of his parents +had such a broad forehead with hair growing far down on it, and such +brows that almost met. His father had certainly dark eyes, but they did +not resemble those he saw in the glass, that were so black that even +the light from the candle, which he held quite close, could not make +them any lighter. + +At last the boy turned away with a look full of doubt. And still +there was something that resembled a slight feeling of relief in the +sigh he now uttered. If he were so little like them externally, need he +wonder then that his thoughts and feelings were often so quite, quite +different from theirs? + +It was strange how the boys at school were an exact copy of their +parents; and how the big boys were still tied to their mothers' +apron-strings. There was Kullrich, for example; he had been away for a +fortnight because his mother had died, and when he came to school again +for the first time--with a black band round his coat-sleeve--the whole +form went almost crazy. They treated him as though he were a raw egg, +and spoke quite low, and nobody made a joke. And when the passage, +_When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me +up_, happened to occur in the Bible-lessons, in which Kullrich also +took part, they all looked at him as though at the word of command, and +Kullrich laid his head down on his Bible, and did not raise it again +during the whole lesson. Afterwards the master went up to him and spoke +a long time to him, and laid his hand on his head. + +That was already a long time ago, but Kullrich was still not happy. +When they all walked in the playground during the interval, eating +their bread and butter, he stood at some distance and did not eat. Was +it really so hard to lose one's mother? + +There was a wonderful moon shining over the silent pines that night; +the boy lay half out of the window for a long, long time. His eyes were +burning: his thoughts buzzed in his head like a swarm of gnats that +whirl round and round and up and down in the air like a cloud. Where +did they come from all at once? + +He exposed his hot forehead, his chest, from which his nightshirt +had slipped, to the cool night air in May--ah, that did him good. That +was the best, the only thing that soothed, that gave peace. Oh, how +delightful the air was, so pure, so fresh. + +Where could Cilia be now? he wondered. He had never heard anything +more about her, She was where he would like to have been--oh, +how he would have liked it. Something that resembled the sound of bells +came floating along, and he stretched out his arms and bent further and +further out of the window. + +Wolfgang had such a vivid dream about Cilia that night that when he +awoke he thought she was standing at his bedside, that she had not left +him yet. But after he had rubbed his eyes, he saw that the spot on +which she had just been standing smiling so pleasantly was empty. + +After school was over he had to go to the Bible-lesson; he was to be +confirmed the following Easter. True, he was still young, but Paul +Schlieben had said to his wife: "He is so developed physically. We +can't have him confirmed when he is outwardly, at any rate, a grown-up +man. Besides, his age is just right. It is much better for him if he +does not begin to reflect first." + +Did he not reflect already? It often seemed to Kate as if the boy +evaded her questions, when she asked him about the Bible-lesson. Did +his teacher not understand how to make an impression on him? Dr. +Baumann was looked upon as an excellent theologian, everybody rushed to +hear his sermons; to be allowed to join his confirmation classes, that +were always so crowded, was a special favour; all his pupils raved +about him, people who had been confirmed by him ten, fifteen years +before, still spoke of it as an event in their lives. + +Kate made a point of going to hear this popular clergyman's sermons +very often. Formerly she had only gone to church at Christmas and on +Good Friday, now she went almost every Sunday to please her boy, for he +had to go now. They left the house together every Sunday, drove to +church together, sat next to each other; but whilst she thought: "How +clever, how thought-out, what fervour, surely he must carry a youthful +mind away with him"? Wolfgang thought: "If only it were over!" +He felt bored. And his soul had never soared there as when the little +bell rang when the monstrance had been raised, when he had smelt the +odour of incense before dim altars. + +There was something in him that drove him to the church he had once +visited with Cilia. When he went to the Bible-class he had to pass +close by it; but even if the road had been longer, he would still have +made it possible to go there. Only to stand a few minutes, a few +seconds in a corner, only to draw his breath once or twice in that +sweet, mysterious, soothing air laden with incense. He always found the +church door open; and then when he stepped out again into the noise of +Berlin, he went through the streets with their hurry and their rush +like one come from another world. After that he did not take any +notice of what he was told about the doctrines and the history of the +Church--what were Martin Luther, Calvin and other reformers to him? His +soul had been caught, his thoughts submerged in a feeling of gloomy +faith. + +Thus the summer and winter passed. When the days grew longer, and +the mild warmth of the sun promised to dry up all the moisture winter +had left behind ere long, Paul Schlieben had his villa cleaned and +painted. It was to put on a festive garment for their son's great day, +too. + +The white house looked extremely pretty with its red roofs and green +shutters, as it peeped out from behind the pines; there would almost +have been something rustic about it, had it not been for the large +plate-glass windows and the conservatory, with its palms and flowering +azaleas, that had lately been built on. Friedrich was sowing fresh +grass in the garden, and an assistant was tidying up the flower-beds; +they were digging and hoeing everywhere. The sparrows were +chirping noisily, bold and happy; but strips of paper tied to long +pieces of string and stretched across the lawns that had just been sown +fluttered in the purifying wind and frightened the impudent birds away +from the welcome food. All the gardens were waking up. The stems of the +roses had not yet been released from their coverings, in which they +looked like a chrysalis made of straw, but the young shoots had +appeared on the fruit-trees, and the spurge-laurel made a fine show +with its peach-coloured blossoms. Perambulators painted white and +sky-blue were being driven up and down the street, the baby inside was +already peeping out from behind the curtains, and little feet tripped +along by the side. Nurses and children came out of all the doors, the +boys with hoops, the girls with their balls in a knitted net. Giggling +young girls went off to tennis, and big boys from the third form made +love to them. + +Brightness and gaiety everywhere. There was a glad excited rustling +in the tops of the pines, and the sap rose and fell in the willows +along the shores of the lake. A flight of starlings passed over the +Grunewald colony, and each bird looked down and chose in which box on +the tall pine stems it would prefer to nest. + +The new suit of clothes--black trousers and coat--Wolfgang was to +wear at his confirmation lay spread out on his bed upstairs. Now he was +to try it on. + +Kate was filled with a strange emotion, and her pulse quickened as +she helped him to put on his new suit. So far he had always been +dressed like a boy, in knickers and a sailor blouse, now he was to be +dressed like a man all at once. The festive black suit of fine cloth +did not suit him; for the first time one noticed that he was thick-set. +He stood there stiffly, he felt cramped in the trousers, the coat was +uncomfortable, too: he looked miserable. + +"Look at yourself, just look at yourself," said Kate, pushing him in +front of the glass. + +He looked into it. But he did not see the clothes, he only saw his +mother's face as she looked into the glass at the same time as he, and +he saw they had not a single feature in common. + +"We're not a bit alike," he murmured. + +"Hm? What did you say?" She had not understood him. + +He did not answer. + +"Don't you like the suit?" + +"It's awful!" And then he stared at himself absently. What had they +been saying again that morning? They had been jeering at him, Lehmann +and von Kesselborn, who were to be confirmed with him. Was it because +their fathers were not so rich as his? Kesselborn's father was a +retired officer, who now filled the post of registrar, but Kesselborn +was terribly proud of his "von"; and Lehmann was his bosom friend. +However, he had told them that he had already had a silver watch since +he was eight years old, and that he was to have a real gold one for his +confirmation, which he would then wear every day--that had vexed them +awfully. + +It was before the lesson had commenced--they were all three +waiting--and Kesselborn had suddenly said: "Schlieben gives himself +airs," and had then turned to him and said: "You needn't be so +stuck-up." And then Lehmann had added, also quite loudly so that +everybody must have heard it: "Don't put on so much side, we know all + about it." + +"What do you know?" He had wanted to jump on Lehmann like a tiger, +but the clergyman had just then come in and they began prayers. And +when the lesson, of which he had hardly heard anything--he heard the +other words all the time--was over, he had wanted to tackle +Kesselborn and Lehmann, but they had been sitting near the door, and +had already gone before he could get out of his bench. He did not see +them again. But he noticed glances in which there was a certain +curiosity and spitefulness--or did he only imagine it? He was not quite +sure about it, and he had not thought any more about it either. But now +when he saw his mother's face so close to his in the glass, he suddenly +remembered it all again. And it all came back to him, plumped like a +stone into his thoughts. + +"I'm not at all like you," he said once more. And then he watched +her face: "Not like father either." + +"Oh yes," she said hastily, "you are very much like your +father." + +"Not the slightest bit." + +Her face had flamed, and then he noticed that she suddenly turned +pale. Then she laughed, but there was something forced in her laugh. +"There are many children who hardly resemble their parents at all--that +has nothing to do with the matter." + +"No, but----" All at once he stopped and frowned, as he always did +when he exerted himself to think. And he shot such sharp, such +suspicious, such scrutinising glances at the glass under his knit brows +that Kate involuntarily moved aside, so that her head could not be seen +near his in the glass any more. + +She was seized with a sudden fear: what did he mean? Had he spoken +like that intentionally, or had he said it quite unconsciously? What +had they said to him? What did he know? + +Her hands that had found something to do to his clothes--she was on +her knees pulling down his trousers--were full of nervous haste, and +were pulling here, pulling there, and trembling. + +He was not looking into the glass now, he was gazing at the kneeling +woman with an indefinable look. As a rule, his face had not much +expression and was neither handsome nor ugly, neither fine nor +insignificant--it was still a smooth, immature boy's face without a +line on it--but now there was something in it, something doubting, +restless, which made it appear older, which drew furrows on his +forehead and lines round his mouth. Thoughts seemed to be whirling +round behind that lowered brow; the broad nostrils quivered slightly, +the trembling lips were pressed tightly together. + +A deep silence reigned in the room. The mother did not utter a word, +nor did the son. The birds were twittering outside, even the faintest +chirp could be heard as well as the soft rustling of the spring wind in +the tops of the pines. + +Kate rose slowly from her knees. She found difficulty in getting up, +all her limbs felt as if they were paralysed. She stretched out her +hand gropingly, caught hold of the nearest piece of furniture and +helped herself up. + +"You can take it off again now," she said in a low voice. + +He was already doing so, visibly glad at being able to throw off the +clothes he was so unused to. + +She would have liked so much to say something to him, something +quite unimportant--only to speak, speak--but she felt so strangely +timid. It was as though he might say to her: "What have I to do with +you, woman?" And her fear kept her silent. + +He had taken off his new suit now, and was standing before her +showing his broad chest, which the unbuttoned shirt had left exposed, +his strong legs, from which the stockings had slipped down, and all his +big-boned, only half-clothed robustness. She averted her glance--what a +big fellow he was already!--but then she looked at him again +almost immediately: why should a mother feel shy at looking at her +child? A mother? + +Her eyes flickered. As she walked to the door she said, without +turning her head to him again: "I'm going down now. You'll be able to +finish without me, no doubt." + +He mumbled something she could not understand. And then he stood a +long time, half dressed as he was, and stared into the glass, as though +the pupils of his eyes could not move. + +The day of his confirmation drew near; it was to take place on Palm +Sunday. Dr. Baumann had laid the importance of the step they were about +to take very clearly before the boys' eyes. Now a certain feeling of +solemnity took the place of Wolfgang's former indifference. He was more +attentive during the last lessons; the empty bare room with the few +pictures on the plain walls did not seem so bare to him any longer. Was +it only because he had grown accustomed to it? A softer light fell +through the dreary windows and glided over the monotonous rows of +benches, beautifying them. + +Even Lehmann and Kesselborn were not quite so unsympathetic lately. +All his thoughts grew gentler, more forgiving. The boy's hard heart +became soft. When the clergyman spoke of the Commandments and specially +emphasised the one, "Honour thy father and thy mother," it seemed to +Wolfgang there was much for which he must ask forgiveness; especially +his mother's forgiveness. + +But then when he came home and wanted to say something loving to +her--something quite unprepared, quite spontaneous--he could not do it, +for she had not perceived his intention. + +Kate often went to the station to meet him--oh, how tired the poor +boy must be when he came home. It was really too great a rush for him +to have to go to town for his Bible-lessons so often, and +there was always twice as much work at school before the end of the +term. She would have liked to have caressed him, to have fondled him as +she formerly did little Woelfchen. But when she saw him come sauntering +along, never looking out for her, never imagining that she was there +waiting for him, she would turn quickly down the first street or remain +standing quietly behind a tree and let him pass by. He did not notice +her at all. + +The popular clergyman had to prepare a great many boys for +confirmation, too many; he could not interest himself in each +individual one of them; nevertheless he thought he could assure +Wolfgang's mother, who came to see him full of a certain anxiety in +order to ask him how her son was getting on, that he was satisfied with +him. + +"I know, I know, Frau Schlieben. Your husband considered it his duty +to explain it to me--I have also seen the boy's Catholic certificate of +baptism. But I think I can assure you with a clear conscience that the +lad is a sincere, evangelical Christian. What, you still have some +doubts about it?" Her doubtful mien, the questioning anxiety in her +eyes astonished him. + +She nodded: yes, she had a doubt. Odd that she should have got it +quite lately. But a stranger, anybody else would not understand it, not +even this man with the clever eyes and the gentle smile. And she could +hardly have expressed her doubt in words. And she would have had to +tell her tale quite from the beginning, from the time when she took the +child away from its mother, took it into her own hands, the whole +child, body and soul. + +So she only said: "So you believe--you really believe--oh, how happy +I am, Dr. Baumann, that you believe we have done right." She looked at +him expectantly--oh, how she yearned for him to confirm it and he bowed +his head: + +"So far as our knowledge and understanding go--yes." + +Wolfgang did not sleep the night before Palm Sunday. He had been +told at the last lesson that day that he was to prepare his thoughts. +And he felt, too, that the next day was an important day, a fresh +chapter in his life. He did his best to think of everything a boy +preparing for his confirmation ought to think of. He was very tired and +could not help yawning, but he forced his eyes open every time. +However, he could not help his thoughts wandering again and again; his +head was no longer clear. + +What text would he get next day in remembrance of his confirmation? +he wondered. They had often talked about it at school, each one had his +favourite text which he hoped to get. And would he get the gold watch +early in the morning before going to church? Of course. Oh, how angry +Kesselborn and Lehmann would be then--those wretches! He would hold it +up before their eyes: there, look! They should be green with envy--why +should they always be whispering about him, meddling with things that +did not concern them at all? Pooh, they could not make him trouble +about it all the same, not even make him angry. + +And still all at once he saw his own face so plainly before his +mind's eye and his mother's near it, as he had seen them in the glass. +There was not a single feature alike--no, not one. + +It was really odd that mother and son resembled each other so +little. Now he was wide awake, and commenced to ponder, his brows knit, +his hands clenched. What did they really mean by their offensive +remarks? If only he knew it. He would be quite satisfied then, quite +easy. But he could not think of anything else as things were now, with +everything so obscure. All his thoughts turned round and round the same +point. It was a horrible feeling that tormented him now, a +great uncertainty in which he groped about in the dark. Light, light, +he must have light. Ah, he would see that he got some. + +He tossed about restlessly, quite tortured by his thoughts, and +considered and pondered how he was to find it out, where he was to find +it out. Who would tell him for certain whether he was his parents' +child or not? Why should he not be their child? Yes, he was their +child--no, he was not. But why not? If he was not their real child, +would he be very sorry? No, no!--but still, it terrified him. + +The perspiration stood out on the excited boy's body, and still he +felt icy-cold. He drew the cover up and shook as though with fever. His +heart behaved strangely too, it fluttered in his breast as though with +restless wings. Oh, if only he could sleep and forget everything. Then +there would be no thought of it next day, and everything would be as it +had always been. + +He pressed his eyes together tightly, but the sleep he had driven +away did not come again. He heard the clocks strike, the old clock +resounded hi the dining-room downstairs, and the bronze one called from +his mother's room with its silvery voice. The silence of the night +exaggerated every sound; he had never heard the clocks strike so loudly +before. + +Was the morning never coming? Was it not light yet? He longed for +the day to come, and still he dreaded it. All at once he was seized +with an inexplicable terror--why, what was it he feared so much? + +If only he were already at church--no, if only it were all over. He +was filled with reluctance, a sudden disinclination. The same thought +continued to rush madly through his brain, and his heart rushed with +it; it was impossible to collect his thoughts. He sighed as he +tossed and turned on his bed; he felt so extremely lonely, terrified, +nay, persecuted. + +_If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I make my bed in +hell, behold, Thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and +dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea_--alas, he could not escape +from that thought, it was everywhere and always, always there. + +As the morning sun stole through the shutters that were still closed +on Palm Sunday, forcing its way into the room in delicate, golden rays, +Kate came into her son's room. She was pale, for she had been +struggling with herself the whole night: should she tell him something, +now that he was to enter upon this new chapter of his life or should +she tell him nothing? Something within her whispered: "The day has +come, tell him it, you owe it to him"--but when the morning sun +appeared she bade the voice of the night be silent. Why tell him it? +What did it matter to him? What he did not know could not grieve him; +but if he knew it, then--perhaps he would then--oh, God, she must keep +silent, she could not lose him! + +But she longed to let him feel her love. When she came in with soft +steps she was amazed, for he was standing already quite dressed in the +new black coat and trousers at the window, gazing fixedly at the field +in which they were beginning to build a villa now. The ground floor was +already finished, there was a high scaffolding round it; it was going +to be an enormous building. + +"Good morning, my dear son," she said. + +He did not hear her. + +"Wolfgang!" + +Then he turned round quickly and looked at her, terrified and as +though he did not know her. + +"Oh, you're already dressed." Her voice seemed to express +disappointment; she would have been so pleased to have helped +him just on that day. There was a strange feeling in her heart; she had +never thought the day would have affected her so. Was it not a day like +other days, a festival, of course, but one of many? And now it seemed +as though the day were unique, and as though there would never be +another like it again. + +She went up to Wolfgang, laid her arms round his neck and looked +deep into his eyes: "My child!" And then she smiled at him. "I wish you +joy." + +"Why?" He looked past her with such a strange expression that all +the heartfelt things she had wanted to say to him remained unsaid. He +was still quite a child although he was almost taller than she, much +too much of a child, he did not understand the importance of the day as +yet. So all she did was to improve on his appearance a little, to take +away a thread from his clothes here, to blow away some dust there and +pull his tie straight. And then he had to bend his head; she made a +parting again in his stiff obstinate hair, that never would remain +straight. And then she could not restrain herself, but took his round +face between both her hands and pressed a quick kiss on his +forehead. + +"Why not on my mouth?" he thought to himself. "A mother would have +kissed her child on his mouth." + +They went down to breakfast. There were flowers on the table; his +father, who was wearing a frock coat, was already seated, and the gold +watch lay on Wolfgang's plate. A splendid watch. He examined it +critically; yes, he liked it. "In remembrance of April 1, 1901," was +engraved inside the gold case. Neither Kesselborn nor Lehmann would get +such a watch, none of the boys who were to be confirmed would get +anything like such a beauty. It was awfully heavy--he really ought to +have a gold chain now. + +Wolfgang's parents watched him as he stood there with the +watch in his hand, looking at it yes, he was pleased. And that pleased +them, especially Kate. She had wanted to have a text engraved inside it +as well, but Paul did not wish it: don't let them get sentimental about +it. But it was all right as it was, the boy was pleased with the gift, +and so they had gained their object. + +"It strikes as well," she said to him eagerly. "You can know what +time it is in the dark. Look. If you press here--do you see?" + +"Yes. Give it to me--you've to press here." He knew all about +it. + +They had lost count of the time; they had to be going. Wolfgang +walked to the station between his parents. When they passed the house +where Laemke was hall-porter, Frida was standing at the door. She must +have got up earlier than usual this Sunday; she was already in her +finery, looked very nice and smiled and nodded. Then Frau Laemke stuck +her head out of the low cellar-window, and followed the boy with her +eyes. + +"There he goes," she philosophised. "Who knows what life has in +store for him?" She felt quite moved. + +It was splendid weather, a real spring day. The tasteful villas +looked so festive and bright; all the bushes were shooting, and the +crocuses, tulips and primroses were in bloom. Even Berlin with its +large grey houses and its noise and traffic showed a Sunday face. It +was so much quieter in the streets; true, the electric cars were +rushing along and there were cabs and carriages, but there were no +waggons about, no brewers' and butchers' carts. Everything was so much +quieter, as though subdued, softened. The streets seemed broader than +usual because they were emptier, and the faces of the people who walked +there looked different from what they generally did. + +The candidates for confirmation were streaming to the +church; there was a large number of boys and girls. Most of the girls +drove, for they all belonged to good families. + +Ah, all those boys and girls. Kate could hardly suppress a slight +feeling of longing, almost of envy: oh, to be as young as they were. +But then every selfish thought was swallowed up in the one feeling: the +boy, the boy was stepping out of childhood's land now. God be with +him! + +Feelings she had not known for a long time, childlike, devout, quite +artless feelings crowded in upon her; everything the years and her +worldly life had brought with them fell from her. To-day she was young +again, as young as those kneeling at the altar, full of confidence, +full of hope. + +Dr. Baumann spoke grave words full of advice to the boys and girls; +many of the young children sobbed, and their mothers, too. A shudder +passed through the crowded church, the young dark and fair heads bent +low. Kate's eyes sought Wolfgang; his head was the darkest of all. But +he did not keep it bent, his eyes wandered restlessly all over the +church until they came to a certain window; there they remained fixed. +What was he looking for there? Of what was he thinking? She imagined +she could see that his thoughts were far away, and that made her +uneasy. Moving nearer to her husband she whispered: "Do you see +him?" + +He nodded and whispered: "Certainly. He's bigger than all the +others." There was something of a father's pride in the man's whisper. +Yes, to-day it came home to him: even if they had had many a sorrow +they would not have had under other circumstances, many a discomfort +and unpleasantness, still they had had many a joy they would otherwise +have missed. In spite of everything the boy might in time be all right. +How he was growing. There was an expression about his mouth +that was almost manly. It had never struck his father before--was it +the black clothes that made the boy look so grave? + +Wolfgang's thoughts went along paths of their own; not along those +prescribed there. He had many sensations, but he could not keep hold of +any; he was lost in thought. He saw a bit of the sky through a square +in the window-pane, and the flitting figures of his father, mother, +Frida, his masters and school-fellows appeared to him in it. But they +all glided past, no vision remained. All at once he felt quite alone +among all that crowd of people. + +When his turn came he stepped mechanically up to the altar with +Kullrich beside him; Lehmann and Kesselborn were in front of him. How +he hated those two again all at once. He would have liked to throw his +watch, his gold watch at their feet: there, take it! But take back +what you've said, take it back! Ugh, what a terrible night that had +been--horrible. He felt it still in all his limbs; his feet were heavy, +and as he knelt down on the cushion on the step leading up to the altar +his knees were stiff. Kullrich was crying the whole time. Ah, he was no +doubt thinking of his mother, who was not with him any longer. Poor +fellow! And Wolfgang felt suddenly that something moist and hot forced +its way into his eyes. + +The organ above them was being played very softly, and the clergyman +repeated the texts he had chosen for the candidates in a low voice to +the accompaniment of its gentle tones: + +"Revelation, 21st chapter, 4th verse. _And God shall wipe away all +tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither +sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the +former things are passed away._" + +Ah, that was for Kullrich. He raised his face, that was wet +with tears and so red and hot, to receive the comforting words. But +now, now--Wolfgang stopped breathing--now _his_ text was coming. What +kind of a text would he get, what would he say to _him_? + +"Hebrews, 13th chapter, 14th verse. _For here have we no continuing +city, but we seek one to come._" + +That was to be for him--that? What was the meaning of it? A terrible +disappointment came over Wolfgang, for--had he not waited for the text +as for a revelation? The text was to be a judgment of God. It was to +tell him what was true--or what was not true. And now? + +_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come._ That did not +tell him anything. + +He got up from the steps mechanically, deceived in all his hopes. He +did not see that his mother's eyes sent him a covert greeting, that his +father was surreptitiously nodding to him with a friendly expression on +his face; he felt quite disillusioned, quite bewildered by this +disappointment. + +If only it had been over now. How tiring it was to sit quiet for so +long. Wolfgang was pale and yawned covertly; the long night during +which he had not slept made itself felt, he could hardly keep himself +from falling asleep. At last, at last the "Amen" was said, at last, at +last the final hymn pealed from the organ. + +The enormous crowd poured out of the church like a never-ending +flood. Each child joined its parents and passed through the church +porch between its father and mother. + +Wolfgang walked like that, too, as he had done before. He saw +Kullrich in front of him--with his father only; both of them still wore +the broad mourning-band. Then he left his father and mother and hurried +after Kullrich. He had never been on specially friendly terms with him, +but he took hold of his hand now and pressed and shook it in +silence, without a word, and then went back again quickly. + +Her boy's impulsive sympathy touched Kate greatly; altogether she +was very much moved that day. When Wolfgang walked beside her again, +she looked at him sideways the whole time with deep emotion: oh, he was +so good, so good. And her heart sent up burning hopes and desires to +heaven. + +The sky was bright, so blue, there was not a cloud on it. + +They took a carriage so as to drive home, as both parents felt they +could not be crowded together in the train with so many indifferent, +chattering people; they wanted to be alone with their son. Wolfgang was +silent. He sat opposite his mother and allowed his hand to remain in +hers, which she kept on her lap, but his fingers did not return her +tender, warm pressure. He sat as quiet as though his thoughts were not +there at all. + +They drove past the house again in which Laemke was porter; Frida +sprang to the window on hearing the noise the carriage made on the +hard, sun-baked road, and smiled and nodded once more. But there was +nothing to be seen of Frau Laemke now, and Wolfgang missed her. Well, +that afternoon as soon as he could get free he would go to the +Laemkes. + +Some guests were already waiting for them at the villa. They did not +wish to invite a lot of outsiders in honour of the confirmation, but +still the good old doctor, his wife, and the two partners had to be +asked--all elderly people. Wolfgang sat between them without saying +much more than "yes" and "no," when questions were put to him. But he +ate and drank a good deal; the food was always good, but still you did +not get caviar and plovers' eggs every day. His face grew redder and +redder, and then his head began to swim. At last his health was drunk +in champagne, and Braumueller, the oldest partner, a very +jovial man, had amused himself by filling the boy's glass again and +again. + +"Well, Wolfgang, that will be grand when you come to the office. +Your health, my boy." + +It was almost five o'clock when they got up from table. The ladies +sat down in the drawing-room to have a cup of coffee, the gentlemen +went to the smoking-room. Wolfgang stole away, he felt such a longing +for the Laemkes. First of all he wanted to show them the gold watch, and +then he wanted to ask what text Frida had got at her confirmation, and +then, then--what would Frau Laemke say to him? + +_Here have we no continuing city, we seek one to come_; that was +really a stupid text. And still he could not get it out of his head. He +thought of it the whole time whilst sauntering slowly along through the +soft silvery air of spring, that is so full of presages. No, the text +was not so stupid, after all. He knit his brows thoughtfully, looked up +at the motionless tops of the pines and then around him--"Here have we +no continuing city"--could not that also mean, here is not your home? +But where then--where? + +A strange gleam came into his dark eyes, a look as if seeking for +something. And then his face, which the wine had flushed, grew pale. If +it were true what the two had said? Oh, and so many other things +occurred to him all at once: there had been that Lisbeth, that horrid +woman who had been with them before Cilia came--what was all that +Lisbeth had always been babbling about when she was in a bad humour? +"You've no right here"--"you're here on sufferance"--and so on, only he +could not remember it all now. What a pity! At that time he had been +too young and too innocent, but now--now? + +"Hang that woman!" He clenched his hand. But oh, if he only +had her there now. He would not call her names, oh no, he would get it +out of her quite gently and coaxingly, for he must, he must know it +now. + +A violent longing, a burning curiosity had suddenly been roused in +him, and would not be repressed any longer. There must be some truth in +it, or how could they have taunted him like that? And he must know the +truth; he had a right to know it now. His figure grew taller. Self-will +and defiance engraved deep, firm lines round his mouth. And even if it +were ever so terrible, he must know it. But was it terrible? The lines +round his lips became softer. "Here have we no continuing city, but we +seek one to come"--very well then, he would seek it. + +He gave up sauntering and began to stride along more quickly. What +would Frau Laemke say? And if he should ask her now--she meant so well +by him--if he should ask her in the way a man is asked when he has to +swear to anything, if he asked her whether--yes, but what was it he +really wanted to ask her? + +His heart throbbed. Oh, that stupid heart. It often behaved as if it +were a wild bird that has been shut up in a small cage. + +He had commenced to run again; now he had to slacken his pace. And +still he was quite breathless when he came to the Laemkes. The father +and son had gone out, but the mother and daughter were sitting there as +though waiting for him. + +Frida jumped up, so that the edging she had been crocheting for the +kitchen fell to the ground, seized hold of both his hands, and her blue +eyes sparkled with admiration. "Oh, how fine you are, Wolfgang! Like a +gentleman--awfully grand." + +He smiled: that was nice of her to say it. + +But when Frau Laemke said in a voice full of feeling: "Now I +shall have to treat you as a grown-up, Wolfgang--you're getting too big +now--but I like you none the less for that, you may be sure, I could +hardly be fonder of my own children"--he felt happier than he had done +the whole day. His face grew tender and full of emotion, and he pressed +the gnarled hand that gave his such a hearty shake firmly. + +Then he sat down near them; they wanted to hear about +everything. + +He showed them his gold watch and let it strike the hour; but he did +not talk much, the atmosphere of the room filled him with a vague +feeling of delight, and he sat quite still. There was the same smell of +freshly-made coffee as once before, and the myrtle in the window and +the pale monthly rose mingled their fainter perfume with it. He had +quite forgotten that he had already been there some time; all at once +it occurred to him with a sudden feeling of dread that he had something +to ask. He cast a searching glance at the woman. She was just saying: +"Oh, how pleased your mother will be to have such a big son," when he +jerked out: "Am I her son?" And as she did not answer, but only looked +at him uncertainly with her eyes full of dismay, he almost shouted it: +"Am I her son?" + +The mother and daughter exchanged a rapid glance; Frau Laemke had +turned scarlet and looked very embarrassed. The boy had got hold of her +arms with both hands and was bending over her. There was no getting out +of it. + +"Don't tell me any lies," he said hastily. "I shall find it out all +the same. I must find it out. Is she my mother? Answer. And my +father--he isn't my real father either?" + +"Good gracious, Wolfgang, what makes you think of such a thing?" +Frau Laemke hid her embarrassment under a forced laugh. "That's all +nonsense." + +"Oh no." He remained quite serious. "I'm old enough now. I must know +it. I must." + +The woman positively writhed: oh, how disagreeable it was for her; +let the boy go somewhere else and ask. "I should get into nice trouble +with them if I told tales," she said, trying to get out of it. "Ask +your parents themselves, they'll tell you all you want to know. I'll +take care not to meddle with such things." + +Frida opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, but a +warning glance made her remain silent. Her mother flew at her angrily: +"Will you be quiet? To think of you mixing yourself up with it. What +next. On the whole, what do chits like you know about such things? +Wolfgang's father knows very well what the boy is to him and where he +got him from. And if the lady is satisfied with it, no one else has a +word to say about it." + +Wolfgang stared at the gossip. "The boys say--Lisbeth said--and now +you say--you too"--he jumped up--"I'll go and ask--them." He pointed +with his finger as though pointing at something at a great distance of +which he knew nothing. "Now I must know it." + +"But Wolfgang--no, for God's sake!" Frau Laemke pressed him down into +the chair again, quite terrified. "Laemke will beat me if he gets to +know what I've done. He may possibly lose his situation as porter +because of it--now, straightway, and the children don't earn anything +as yet. I've not said anything, have I? How can I help that other +people make you suspicious and uneasy? I don't know your mother at all +and your father will, of course, have lost sight of her long ago. Let +the whole thing lie, my boy." She wanted to soothe him, but he was not +listening. + +"My--my father?" he stammered. "So he is my real father?" + +Frau Laemke nodded. + +"But my--my real m--" He could not say the word "mother." He held +his hands before his face and his whole body quivered. He was suddenly +seized with a longing, that great passionate longing, for a mother who +had borne him. He did not say a word, but he uttered sighs that sounded +like groans. + +Frau Laemke was frightened to death; she wanted to clear herself but +made it much worse. "Tut, tut, my dear boy, such a thing often happens +in life--very decent of him that he doesn't disown you; there are heaps +who do. And you would have far to go to find anybody like the lady who +has adopted you as her own child. Splendid--simply splendid!" Frau +Laemke had often been vexed with the fine lady, but now she felt she +wanted to do her justice. "Such a mother ought to be set in gold--there +isn't such another to be found." She exhausted herself in praise. "And +who knows if it's true after all?" And with that she concluded. + +Oh, it was all true. Wolfgang had grown quiet--at least his face no +longer showed any special emotion when he let his hands fall. "I shall +have to be going now," he said. + +Frida stood there looking very distressed. She had known it all a +long time--who did not know it?--but she was very sorry indeed that +_he_ knew it now. Her clear eyes grew dim, and she looked at her friend +full of compassion. Oh, how much more beautiful her own confirmation +last Easter had been. She had not had any gold watch, only quite a +small brooch of imitation gold--it had cost one shilling and sixpence, +for she had chosen it herself with her mother--but she had been so +happy, so happy. + +"What text did you get?" she asked quickly, so as to take his +thoughts away from it. + +"I don't know it by heart," he said evasively, and his +cheeks that had grown pale flamed. "But it suited." And with that he +went out of the door. + +He went straight home--why should he waste any more time? the matter +was urgent. He did not notice the starlings flying in and out of their +boxes on the tall pines, did not notice that there was already a bright +crescent in the evening sky that was growing darker and darker, and a +golden star near it, he only noticed with satisfaction as he entered +the hall at the villa that the coats and hats had disappeared from +the pegs. That was good, the visitors had left. He rushed to the +drawing-room, he almost fell into the room. His father and mother were +still sitting there--no, his father and she, the--the---- + +"Come, tell us where you've been such along time," inquired his +father, not without a touch of vexation in his voice. + +"To-day, just on this day," said his mother. "They all sent you +their love, they waited for you. But it's almost eight o'clock +now." + +Wolfgang cast an involuntary glance at the clock on the +mantel-piece--right, nearly eight o'clock. But all that was immaterial +now. And, staring straight in front of him as though his eyes were +fixed on some object, he placed himself in front of the two. + +"I have something to ask you," he said. And then--it came out quite +suddenly, quite abruptly. "Whose child am I?" + +Now it was said. The young voice sounded hard. Or did it only sound +so cutting to Kate's ears? She heard something terribly shrill, like +the dissonant blast of a trumpet. O God, there it was, that awful +question. A sudden wave of blood laid a thick veil covered with +glittering spots before her eyes; she could not see her boy any more, +she only heard his question. She stretched out her hand +gropingly, helplessly--thank God, there was her husband! He was still +there. And now she heard him speak. + +"What makes you ask that question?" said Paul Schlieben. "Our son of +course. Whose child could you be otherwise?" + +"I don't know. That's just what I want to know from you," the boy +went on in his hard voice. + +It was strange how calm the voice sounded, but it seemed doubly +terrible to Kate in its monotony. + +Now it became a little louder: "Give me an answer--I will--I must +know it." + +Kate shuddered. What inexorableness, what obstinacy lay in that "I +will"--"I must!" He would never stop asking again. She sank down as +though crushed, and shuddered. + +Even the man's quiet voice betrayed a secret tremor. "Dear boy, +somebody--I will not ask who, there are always enough gossips and +abettors--has again put something into your head. Why do you treat us +as if we were your enemies? Haven't we always been like a father and +mother to you?" + +Oh, that was wrong--_like_ a father and mother? Quite wrong. Kate +started up. She stretched out her arms: "My boy!" + +But he remained standing as though he did not see those outstretched +arms; his brows were contracted, he only looked at the man. "I know +very well that you are my father, but she"--he cast a quick sidelong +glance at her--"she's not my mother." + +"Who says that?" Kate shrieked it. + +"Everybody." + +"No, nobody. That's not true. It's a lie, a lie! You are my child, +my son, our son I And the one who denies that lies, deceives, +slanders!----" + +"Kate!" Her husband looked at her very gravely, and there was a +reproach in his voice and a warning. "Kate!" + +And then he turned to the boy, who stood there so sullenly, almost +defiantly--drawn up to his full height, with one foot outstretched, his +head thrown back--and said: "Your mother is naturally very much +agitated, you must take care of her--to-day especially. Go now, and +to-morrow we will----" + +"No, no!" Kate did not let him finish speaking, she cried in the +greatest excitement: "No, don't postpone it. Let him speak--now--let +him. And answer him--now--at once that he is our son, our son alone. +Wolfgang--Woelfchen!" She used the old pet name from his childhood again +for the first time for months. "Woelfchen, don't you love us any more? +Woelfchen, come to me." + +She stretched out her arms to him once more, but he did not see +those longing, loving, outstretched arms again. He was very pale and +his eyes were fixed on the ground. + +"Woelfchen, come." + +"I cannot." + +His face never moved, and his voice had still the same monotonous +tone which sounded so terrible to her. She sobbed aloud, and her eyes +clung to her husband--he must help her now. But he looked at her with a +frown; she could plainly read the reproach in his face: "Why did you +not follow my advice? Had we told him in time--" No, she would not find +any help in him either. And now--what was it Paul was saying now? Her +eyes dilated with a sudden fear, she grasped the arms of her chair with +both hands, she wanted to sink back and still she started up to ward +off what must come now Was Paul out of his mind? He was saying: "You +are not our son." + +"Not your son?" The boy stammered. He had made up his mind +that nothing should disconcert him, but this answer disconcerted him +all the same. It bewildered him; he turned red, then white, and his +eyes wandered uncertainly from the man to the woman, from the woman to +the man. + +So he, too--that man--was not his father either? But Frau Laemke had +said so? Oh, so he wanted to disown him now? He looked suspiciously at +the man, and then something that resembled mortification arose within +him. If he were not his father, then he had really no--no right +whatever to be there? + +And, drawing a step nearer, he said hastily: "You must be my father. +You only don't want to say it now. But she"--he gave a curt nod in the +direction of the chair--"she's not my mother." His eyes gleamed; then +he added, drawing a long breath as though it were a relief: "I've +always known that." + +"You've been wrongly informed. If I had had my way, I +would have told you the truth long ago. But as the right +moment--unfortunately--has been neglected, I will tell you it to-day. +I tell you it--on my word of honour, as one man speaking to another--I +am not your father, just as little as she is your mother. You have +nothing to do with us by birth, nothing whatever. But we have adopted +you as our child because we wanted to have a child and had not one. We +took you from----" + +"Paul!" Kate fell on her husband's breast with a loud cry, as she +had done at the time when he wanted to disclose something to the boy, +because he was indignant at his ingratitude. She clasped her arms round +his neck, she whispered hastily, passionately in his ear with trembling +breath: "Don't tell him from where. For God's sake not from where. Then +he'll go away, then I shall lose him entirely. I can't bear it--have +mercy, have pity on me--only don't tell him from where." + +He wanted to push her away, but she would not let go of him. She +repeated her weeping, stammering entreaty, her trembling, terrified, +desperate prayer: only not from where, only not from where. + +He felt a great compassion for her. His poor, poor wife--was this to +happen to her? And then he was filled with anger against the boy, who +stood there so bold--arrogant--yes, arrogant--who demanded where he had +to ask, and looked at them unmoved with large, cold eyes. + +His voice, which had hitherto been grave but gentle whilst speaking +to Wolfgang, now became severe: "Besides, I won't allow you to question +me in this manner." + +"I have a right to question you." + +"Yes, you have." The man was quite taken aback. Yes, the lad had the +right. It was quite clear who was wrong. And so he said, thinking +better of it and in a more friendly voice again: "But even if you are +not our son by birth, I think the training and the care you have +received from our hands during all these years have made you our child +in spirit. Come, my son--and even if they all say you are not our son, +I tell you you are our son in truth." + +"No," he said. And then he walked slowly backwards to the door, his +dry eyes fixed on those he had called parents for so long. + +"Boy, where are you going? Stop!" the man called after him in a kind +voice. The boy was certainly in a terrible position, they must have +patience with him. And he called out once more "Stop, Wolfgang!" + +But Wolfgang shook his head: "I cannot. You have deceived me. Let me +go." He shook off the man's hand that he had laid on his sleeve with a +violent gesture. + +And then he screamed out like a wounded animal: "Why do you still +worry me? Let me go, I want to think of my mother--where is she?" + + + + + +BOOK III + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The clocks in the house ticked terribly loudly. They could be heard +through the silence of the night like warning voices. + +Oh, how quickly the time flew. It had quite lately been +evening--midnight--and now the clock on the mantel-piece already struck +a short, clear, hard one. + +The lonely woman pressed her hands to her temples with a shudder. +How they throbbed, and how her thoughts--torturing thoughts--hurried +along, madly, restlessly, like the hasty tick of the clocks. + +Everybody in the house was asleep--the manservant, the maids, her +husband too--long ago. Only she, she alone had not found any sleep as +yet. + +And everything was asleep outside as well. The pines stood around +the house motionless, and their dark outlines, as stiff as though cut +out of cardboard, stood out clearly against the silvery sky of +night. + +No shouts, no footsteps, no sound of wheels, no singing, no +laughter, not even a dog's bark came from the sleeping colony in the +Grunewald. But something that sounded like a gentle sighing was heard +around the white villa with the red roof and the green shutters. + +The mother, who was waiting for her son, listened: was anybody +there? No, it was the breeze that was trying to move the branches of +the old gnarled pines. + +Kate Schlieben was standing at the window now. She had torn it open +impatiently some time before, and now she leant out of it. As far as +her eye could reach there was nobody to be seen, nobody whatever. There +was still no sign of him. + +The clock struck two. The woman gazed round at the mantel-piece with +an almost desperate look: oh, that unbearable clock, how it tortured +her. It must be wrong. It could not be so late. + +Kate had sat up waiting for Wolfgang many an evening, but he had +never remained out so long as to-day. Paul had no objection to the boy +going his own way. "My child," he had said, "you can't alter it. Lie +down and go to sleep, that is much more sensible. The boy has the key, +he will come home all right. You can't keep a young fellow of his age +in leading-strings any longer. Leave him, or you'll make him dislike +our house--do leave him in peace." + +What strange thoughts Paul had. He was certainly quite right, she +must not keep the boy in leading-strings any longer. She was not able +to do so either--had never been able to do so. But how could she go to +bed quietly? She would not be able to sleep. Where could he be? + +Kate had grown grey. In the three years that had elapsed since her +son's confirmation she had changed considerably outwardly. Whilst +Wolfgang had grown taller and stronger and broader like a young tree, +her figure had drooped like a flower that is heavy with rain or is +about to wither. Her fine features had remained the same, but her skin, +which had retained almost the delicate smoothness of a young girl's for +so long, had become looser; her eyes looked as if she had wept a great +deal. Her acquaintances found Frau Schlieben had grown much older. + +When Kate saw herself in the glass now, she did not blush with +pleasure at the sight of her own well-preserved looks; she did not like +looking at herself any more. Something had given her a shock both +inwardly and outwardly. What that had been nobody guessed. Her husband +knew it certainly, but he did not speak of it to his wife. Why agitate +her again? Why tear open old wounds? + +He took good care never again to mention the day on which the boy +had been confirmed. It was also best not to do so. He had certainly +taken him very severely to task on account of his ungrateful behaviour +at the time, and had demanded of him that he should treat them more +considerately and his mother also more affectionately. And the lad, who +had no doubt repented of his conduct long ago, had stood there like a +poor sinner; he had said nothing and had not raised his eyes. And when +his father had finally led him to his mother, he had allowed himself to +be led and to be embraced by his mother, who had thrown both her arms +round his neck. She had wept over him and then kissed him. + +And then nothing more had ever been said about it. + +The white house with its bright green and red, which was always +being embellished and improved, both inside and out, struck everybody +who passed by as extremely cosy. The trippers on Sundays used to stand +outside the wrought iron railing and admire the abundance of flowers, +the ivy-leaved geraniums on the balconies and the splendid show of fine +rose-trees in summer, the azaleas and camellias behind the thick glass +of the conservatory and the rows of coloured primulas and early +hyacinths and tulips between the double windows in winter. The lady in +her dress of soft cloth and with the wavy grey hair and the gentle +face, with its rather sad smile, suited the house and the +flowers and her peaceful surroundings well. "Delightful," the people +used to say. + +When Wolfgang heard such things in former years when he was a boy, +he used to make faces at the people: the house and garden were no +concern of theirs, there was nothing to admire about them. Now it +flattered him when they remained standing, when they even envied him. +Oh yes, the place was quite nice. He felt very important. + +Paul Schlieben and his wife had never placed any special value on +money, they had always had enough, a competency was simply a matter of +course to them; and they never guessed that their son placed any value +on wealth. When Wolfgang used to think now of how little he had once +cared for it all in his boyish impetuosity, and that he had run away +without money, without bread, he had to smile. How childish. And when +he remembered that he once, when he was already older and able to +reflect upon his actions, had asked impetuously for something that +would have been equivalent to giving up all that made his life so +comfortable, he shook his head now. Too silly. + +To compare himself with others afforded him a certain satisfaction. +Kesselborn was still sweating in the top form--his people made a point +of his studying theology, possibly in order to become court chaplain on +account of his noble birth--Lehmann had to help his father in his +forwarding business in spite of the very good examination he had passed +on leaving school, and look after the furniture-vans. And Kullrich--ah, +poor Kullrich, he had consumption, like his mother. + +The corners of Wolfgang's mouth drooped with a half-contemptuous, +half-compassionate smile when he thought of his school-fellows. Was +that living? Oh, and to live, to live was so beautiful! + +Wolfgang was conscious of his strength: he could tear up trees by +the roots, blow down walls that stood in his way with his breath as +though they were cards. + +School was no longer the place for him, his limbs and his +inclinations had outgrown the benches. Besides, he was already growing +a moustache. There had long been a black shadow on the upper lip that +made one guess it was coming, and now it had come, it had come! + +Surely such a grown-up person could not remain in the second form +any longer? And why should he? He was not to be a scholar. Wolfgang +left school after passing the examination that admitted him to the top +form. + +Paul Schlieben had given up, for the present, his intention of +sending him abroad as soon as he had finished school; he wished to keep +him a little longer under his own eye first. Not that he wanted to +guard him as carefully as Kate did, but the old doctor, their good +friend whom he esteemed so highly, had warned him in confidence once +when they were sitting quite alone over a glass of wine: "Listen, +Schlieben," he had said, "you had better take care of the boy. I +wouldn't let him go so far away as yet--he is so young. And he is a +rampageous fellow and--after what he went through as a child, you +know--hm, one can never tell if his heart will hold out." + +"Why not?" Schlieben had asked in surprise. "So you look upon him as +ill?" + +"No, certainly not." The doctor had grown quite angry: at once this +exaggeration! "Who says anything about 'ill'? All the same, the lad +must not do everything in a rush. Well, and boys will be boys. We know +that from our time." + +And both men had nodded to each other, had brightened up and +laughed. + +Wolfgang had a horse to ride on, rode first at the riding-school and +then a couple of hours each day out of doors. His father made a point +of his not sitting too much at the office. He would easily learn what +was necessary for him to know as a merchant, and arithmetic he knew +already. + +The two partners, old bachelors, were delighted with the lively lad, +who came to the office with his whip in his hand and sat on his stool +as if it were a horse. + +Paul Schlieben did not hear any complaints of his son; the whole +staff, men who had been ten, twenty years with the firm, all well-oiled +machines that worked irreproachably, hung round the young fellow: he +was their future chief. Everything worked smoothly. + +Both father and mother were complimented on their son. "A splendid +fellow. What life there is in him." "He's only in the making," the man +would answer, but still you could see that he was pleased to hear it in +his heart. He did not feel the torturing anxiety his wife felt. Kate +only raised her eyebrows a little and gave a slight, somewhat sad smile +of consent. + +She could not rejoice in the big lad any longer, as she had once +rejoiced in the little fellow on her lap. It seemed to her as though +she had altogether lost the capacity for rejoicing, slowly, it is true, +quite gradually, but still steadily, until the last remnant of the +capacity had been torn out by the roots on one particular day, in one +particular hour, at the disastrous moment when he had said: "I will go, +I want to think of my mother--where is she?" Ever since then. She still +wished him to have the best the earth could give, but she had become +more indifferent, tired. He had trodden too heavily on her heart, more +heavily than when in days gone by his small vigorous feet had stamped +on her lap. + +She bent further out of the window with a deep sigh, as she waited +all alone for him. Was it not unheard of, unpardonable of him to come +home so late? Did he not know that she was waiting for him? + +She clenched her hand, which rested on the windowsill, in such a +paroxysm of anger as she had rarely felt. It was foolish of her to wait +for him. Was he not old enough--eighteen? Did he still want waiting for +like a boy coming home alone from a children's party for the first +time? He had made an appointment with some other young fellows in +Berlin--who knew in what cafe they were spending their night? + +She stamped her foot. Her hot breath rose like smoke in the cold +clear night in spring, she shivered with exhaustion and discomfort. And +then she thought of the hours, all the hours during which she had +watched for him already, and her heart was filled with a great +bitterness. Even her tongue had a bitter taste--that was gall. No, she +did not feel the love of former years for him any longer. In those +days, yes, in those days she had felt a rapture--even when she suffered +on his account; but now she only felt a dull animosity. Why had he +forced himself into her life? Oh, how smooth, how free from sorrow, +how--yes, how much happier it had been formerly. How he had broken her +spirit--would she ever be able to rise again? + +No. A hard curt no. And then she thought of her husband. He had also +robbed her of him. Had not he and she been one formerly, one in +everything? Now this third one had forced his way between them, pushed +her husband and her further and further apart--until he went on this +side and she on that. + +A sudden pain seized the woman as she stood there pondering, a great +compassion for herself drove the tears into her eyes; they felt hot as +they dripped down on her hands that she had clenched on the +window-sill. If he--if he had only never come into their lives---- + +At that moment a hand touched her shoulder and made her start. She +turned round like lightning: "Are you there at last?" + +"It's I," said her husband. He had woke up, and when he did not hear +her breathing beside him he had got vexed: really, now she was sitting +downstairs again, waiting for the lad. Such want of sense. And after +lying a little time longer waiting for her and vexed with her, he had +cast on a few necessary garments, stuck on his slippers and groped his +way through the dark house. He shivered with cold and was in a bad +humour. That he had been disturbed in his best sleep and that she would +have a sick headache next day was not all; no, what was worse was that +Wolfgang must find it downright intolerable to be watched in that +manner. + +It was natural that he scolded her. "What wrong is there if he +remains away a little longer for once in a way, I should like to know, +Kate? It's really absurd of you. I used also to loaf about as a young +fellow, but thank goodness, my mother was sensible enough not to mind. +Come, Kate, come to bed now." + +She drew back. "Yes--you!" she said slowly, and he did not know what +she meant by it. She turned her back on him and leant out of the window +again. + +He stood a few moments longer waiting, but as she did not come, did +not even turn round to him, he shook his head. He would have to leave +her, she really was getting quite peculiar. + +He was half asleep as he went upstairs again alone; he almost +stumbled with fatigue, and his limbs were heavy. But in spite of that +his thoughts were clearer, more inexorable than in the daytime, when +there is so much around one to distract one's attention. At that hour +his heart was filled with longing for a wife who would lead him quietly +and gently along a soft track in his old age, and whose smiles were +not only outward as the smiles on Kate's face. A wife whose heart +laughed--and, alas, his Kate was not one of those. + +The man lay down again with a sigh of disappointment and shivered as +he drew up the covering. But it was a long time before he could fall +asleep. If only the lad would come. It really was rather late to-day. +Such loafing about realty went too far. + +The morning was dawning as a cab drove slowly down the street. It +stopped outside the white villa, and two gentlemen helped a third out +of it. The two, who were holding the third under his arms, were +laughing, and the driver on his seat, who was looking down at them full +of interest, also laughed slyly: "Shall I help you, gentlemen? Well, +can you do it?" + +They leant him up against the railing that enclosed the front +garden, rang the bell gently, then jumped hastily into the cab again +and banged the door. "Home now, cabby." + +The bell had only vibrated softly--a sound like a terrified +breath--but Kate had heard it, although she had fallen asleep in her +chair; not firmly, only dozing a little. She jumped up in terror, it +sounded shrill in her ears. She rushed to the window. Somebody was +leaning against the railing outside. Wolfgang? Yes, yes, it was. But +why did he not open the gate and come in? + +What had happened to him? All at once she felt as though she must +call for help--Friedrich! Paul! Paul!--must ring for the maids. +Something had happened to him, something must have happened to him--why +did he not come in? + +He leant so heavily against the railing, so strangely. His +head hung down on his chest, his hat was at the back of his head. Was +he ill? + +Or had some vagrants attacked him? The strangest ideas shot suddenly +through her head. Was he wounded? O God, what had happened to him? + +Fears, at which she would have laughed at any other time, filled her +mind in this hour, in which it was not night any longer and not day +either. Her feet were cold and stiff as though frozen, she could hardly +get to the door; she could not find the key at first, and when her +trembling hands stuck it into the lock, she could not turn it. She was +so awkward in her haste, so beside herself in her fear. Something +terrible must have happened. An accident. She felt it. + +At last, at last! At last she was able to turn the key. And now she +rushed through the front garden to the gate; a chilling icy wind like +the breath of winter met her. She opened the gate: "Wolfgang!" + +He did not answer. She could not quite see his face; he stood there +without moving. + +She took hold of his hand: "Good gracious, what's the matter with +you?" + +He did not move. + +"Wolfgang! Wolfgang!" She shook him in the greatest terror. Then he +fell against her so heavily that he almost knocked her down, and +faltered, lisped like an idiot whose heavy tongue has been taught to +say a few words: "Beg--par--don." + +She had to lead him. His breath, which smelt strongly of spirits, +blew across her face. A great disgust, more terrible than the fear she +had had before, took possession of her. This was the awful thing she +had been expecting no, this was still more awful, more intolerable. He +was drunk, drunk! This was what a drunken man must look like. + +A drunken man had never been near her before; now she had one close +to her. The horror she felt shook her so that her teeth chattered. Oh +for shame, for shame, how disgusting, how vulgar! How degraded he +seemed to her, and she felt degraded, too, through him. This was not +her Wolfgang any more, the child whom she had adopted as her son. This +was quite an ordinary, quite a common man from the street, with whom +she had nothing, nothing whatever to do any more. + +She wanted to push him away from her quickly, to hurry into the +house and close the door behind her--let him find out for himself what +to do. But he held her fast. He had laid his arm heavily round her +neck, he almost weighed her down; thus he forced her to lead him. + +And she led him reluctantly, revolting desperately in her heart, but +still conquered. She could not leave him, exposed to the servants' +scorn, the laughter of the street. If anybody should see him in that +condition? It would not be long before the first people came past, the +milk-boys, the girls with the bread, the men working in the street, +those who drank Carlsbad water early in the morning. Oh, how terrible +if anybody should guess how deeply he had sunk. + +"Lean on me, lean heavily," she said in a trembling voice. "Pull +yourself together--that's right." She almost broke down under his +weight but she kept him on his feet. He was so drunk that he did not +know what he was doing, he actually wanted to lie down in front of the +door, at full length on the stone steps. But she snatched him up. + +"You must--you must," she said, and he followed her like a child. +Like a dog, she thought. + +Now she had got him into the hall--the front door was again +locked--but now came the fear that the servants would see him. +They were not up yet, but it would not be long before Friedrich would +walk over from the gardener's lodge in his leather slippers, and the +girls come down from their attics, and then the sweeping and tidying up +would commence, the opening of the windows, the drawing up of the +blinds, so that the bright light--the cruel light--might force its way +into every crevice. She must get him up the stairs, into his room +without anybody guessing anything, without asking anyone for help. + +She had thought of her husband for one moment--but no, not him +either, nobody must see him like that. She helped him upstairs with a +strength for which she had never given herself credit; she positively +carried him. And all the time she kept on entreating him to go quietly, +whispering the words softly but persistently. She had to coax him, or +he would not go on: "Quietly, Woelfchen. Go on, go on, Woelfchen--that's +splendid, Woelfchen." + +She suffered the torments of hell. He stumbled and was noisy; she +gave a start every time he knocked his foot against the stairs, every +time the banisters creaked when he fell against them helplessly, and a +terrible fear almost paralysed her. If anybody should hear it, oh, if +anybody should hear it. But let them get on, on. + +"Quietly, Woelfchen, quite quietly." It sounded like an entreaty, and +still it was a command. As he had conquered her before by means of his +heavy arm, so she conquered him now by means of her will. + +Everybody in the house must be deaf, that they did not hear the +noise. To the woman every step sounded like a clap of thunder that +continues to roll and roll through the wide space and resounds in the +furthermost corner. Paul must be deaf as well. They passed his door. +The intoxicated lad remained standing just outside his parents' +bedroom, he would not on any account go further--in there--not a step +further. She had to entice him, as she had enticed the child in bygone +days, the sweet little child with the eyes like sloes that was to run +from the chair to the next halting-place. "Come, Woelfchen, come." And +she brought him past in safety. + +At last they were in his room. "Thank God, thank God!" she +stammered, when she had got him on the bed. She was as pale as the lad, +whose face with its silly expression grew more and more livid as the +day dawned. Ah, that was the same room in which she had once, many +years ago--it was exceedingly long ago!--fought for the child's +precious life with fear and trembling, where she had crawled before +God's omnipotence like a worm: only let him live, O God, only let him +live! Alas, it would have been better had he died then. + +As an arrow shot from a too tight bow whizzes along as quick as +lightning, so that thought whizzed through her mind. She was horrified +at the thought, she could not forgive herself for having had it, but +she could not get rid of it again. She stood with shaking knees, +terrified at her own heartlessness, and still the thought came: if only +he had died at the time, it would have been better. This--this was also +the room in which she had tried on the suit the boy, who was growing so +fast, was to wear at his confirmation. Now she drew off the grown-up +man's clothes, tore off his dinner jacket, his fine trousers--as well +as she could in his present state of complete unconsciousness--and +unlaced his glace shoes. + +Where had he been? A smell of cigarettes and scent and the dregs of +wine streamed from him; it almost took her breath away. There hung the +same looking-glass in which she had seen the brown boy's face near +her fair woman's face, fresh and round-cheeked, a little coarse, a +little defiant, but still so nice-looking in its vigorous strength, so +dear in its innocence. And now--? + +Her eyes glanced at the livid face with the open mouth, from which +the breath reeking with spirits came with a snore and a rattle, in the +glass, and then at her own terrified, exhausted face, on which all the +softness had been changed into hard lines that grief had worn. A +shudder passed through her; she smoothed the untidy grey strands of +hair away from her forehead with her cold hand; her eyes blinked as +though she wanted to weep. But she forced her tears back; she must not +cry any more now; that time was over. + +She stood some time longer in the centre of the room, motionless, +with bated breath, letting her tired arms hang down loosely; then she +crept on her toes to the door. He was sleeping quite firmly. She locked +the door from the outside and stuck the key in her pocket--nobody must +go in. + +Should she go to bed now? She could not sleep--oh, she was too +restless--but she would have to lie down, oh yes, she must do so, +or what would the maids think, and Paul? Then she would have to +get up again as she did every day, wash herself, dress, sit at the +breakfast-table, eat, talk, smile as she did every day, as though +nothing, nothing whatever had happened. And still so much had +happened! + +She felt so hopelessly isolated as she lay in bed beside her +husband. There was nobody to whom she could complain. Paul had not +understood her before, he would understand her even less now; he had +changed so much in the course of time. Besides, was he not quite +infatuated with the boy now? Strange, formerly when she had loved +Wolfgang so, her love had always been too much of a good thing--how +often he had reproached her for it!--and now, now!--no, they +simply did not understand each other any longer. She would have to +fight her battles alone, quite alone. + +When Kate heard the first sounds in the house, she would have liked +to get up, but she forced herself to remain in bed: it would attract +their attention if they saw her so early. But a great fear tortured +her. If that person--that, that intoxicated person over there should +awake, make a noise, bang on the locked door? What should she say then +to make excuses for him? What should she do? She lay in bed quite +feverish with uneasiness. At last it was her usual time to get up. + +"I suppose the boy came home terribly late--or rather early, eh?" +said Paul at breakfast. + +"Oh no. Just after you went upstairs." + +"Really? But I lay awake quite a long time after that." + +He had said it lightly, unsuspiciously, but she got a fright +nevertheless. "We--we--he talked to me for quite a long time," she said +hesitatingly. + +"Foolish," he said, nothing more, and shook his head. + +Oh, how difficult it was to tell lies. In what a position Wolfgang +placed her. + +When Schlieben had driven to town and the cook was busy in the +kitchen and Friedrich in the garden, Kate kept an eye on the housemaid. +What a long time she was in the bedroom to-day. "You must finish the +rooms upstairs more quickly, you are excessively slow," she said in a +sharp voice. + +The maid looked at her mistress, quite astonished at the unusual way +in which she spoke to her, and said later on to the cook downstairs: +"Ugh, what a bad temper the mistress is in to-day. She has been after +me." + +Kate had stood beside the girl until the bedroom was finished, she +had positively rushed her. Now she was alone, quite alone with +him up there, now she could see what was the matter with him. + +Would he still be drunk? As she stood outside his door she held her +breath; putting her ear to the door she listened. There was nothing to +be heard inside, not even his breathing. After casting a glance around +her she opened the door like a thief, crept inside and locked it again +behind her. She approached the bed cautiously and softly; but she +started back so hastily that the high-backed chair she knocked against +fell over with a loud noise. What was that--there? What was it? + +A disgusting smell, which filled the closed room, made her feel +sick. Staggering to the window she tore it open, thrust back the +shutters--then she saw. There he lay like an animal--he, who had always +been accustomed to so much attention, he who as a child had stretched +out his little hands if only a crumb had stuck to them: "Make them +clean!" and had cried. There he lay now as if he did not feel anything, +as if he did not care anything whatever about what was going on around +him, as if the bed on which he lay were fresh and clean; his eyes, with +their jet-black lashes that fell like shadows on his pale cheeks, were +firmly closed, and he slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion. + +She did not know what she was doing. She raised her hand to strike +him in the face, to throw a word at him--a violent word expressive of +disgust and loathing; she felt how the saliva collected in her mouth, +how she longed to spit. It was too horrible, too filthy, too terrible! + +A stream of light forced its way in through the open window, of +light and sun; a blackbird was singing, full and clear. Outside was the +sun, outside was beauty, but here, here? She would have liked to cover +up her face and whimper, to run away and conceal herself. But +who should do what was necessary? Who should make everything tidy and +clean? The chair she had knocked down, the clothes she had drawn off +him so hastily, the disgusting smell--alas, all reminded her only too +distinctly of a wild night. It must not remain like that. And even if +she did not love him any longer--no, no, there was no voice in her +heart now that spoke of love--her pride bade her not to humble herself +before the servants. Let her get it away quickly, quickly, let nobody +else find out anything about it. + +She set her teeth hard, pressing back the disgust that rose again +and again as though to choke her, and commenced to wash, scrub, clean. +She fetched water for herself again and again, the pitcher full, a +whole pailful. She had to do it furtively, to creep across the passage +on tiptoe. Oh dear, how the water splashed, how noisily it poured into +the pail when she turned the tap on. If only nobody, nobody found out +anything about it. + +She had found a cloth to scour with, and what she had never done +before in her life she did now, for she lay on her knees like a servant +and rubbed the floor, and crept about in front of the bed and under the +bed, and stretched out her arms so as to be sure to get into every +corner. Nothing must be forgotten, everything must be flooded with +fresh, clean, purifying water. Everything in the room seemed to her to +be soiled--as though it were damaged and degraded--the floor, the +furniture, the walls. She would have preferred to have washed the +wall-paper too, that beautiful deep-coloured wallpaper, or to have torn +it off entirely. + +She had never worked like that in her life before. Her pretty +morning-gown with the silk insertions and lace clung to her body with +the perspiration of exertion and fear. The dress had dark +spots on the knees from slipping about in the wet, the hem of the train +had got into the water; her hair was dishevelled; it had come undone +and was hanging round her hot face. Nobody would have recognised Frau +Schlieben as she was now. + +At last, thank goodness! Kate looked round with a sigh of relief; +the air in the room was quite different now. The fresh wind that blew +in through the open window had cleared everything. Only he, he did not +suit amid all that cleanliness. His forehead was covered with clammy +sweat, his cheeks were livid, his lips swollen, cracked, his hair +bristly, standing straight up in tufts. Then she washed him, too, +cooled his forehead and dried it, rubbed his cheeks with soap and a +sponge, fetched a brush and comb, combed and smoothed his hair, ran +quickly across to her room, brought the Florida water that stood on her +dressing-table and sprinkled it over him. Now she had only to put on +another bed-spread. She could not do any more, it was too difficult for +her to lift him. For he did not awake. He lay there like a tree that +had been hewn down--dead, stiff, immovable--and noticed nothing of the +trembling hands that glided over him, that pulled and smoothed now +here, now there. + +She did not know how long she had been engaged with him; a knock at +the door brought her thoughts back to the present. + +"Who is there?" + +"I, Friedrich." + +"What do you want?" + +"The master wishes to know if you will come down to dinner, +ma'am." + +"To dinner--the master?" She pressed her hands to her head. Was it +possible? Paul back already--dinner-time? It could not be. "What time +is it?" she cried in a shrill voice. She never thought of +looking herself at the watch that lay on the table beside the bed; and +it would not have been any use--the expensive gold watch, the gift he +had received at his confirmation, had stopped. It had not been wound +up. + +"It's half past two, ma'am," said Friedrich outside. And then the +man, who had been there for years, ventured to inquire respectfully: +"Is the young master not well, as he has not got up? Could I perhaps be +of some use, ma'am?" + +She hesitated for a moment. Should she let him into the secret? It +would be easier for her then. But the shame of it made her call out: +"There's nothing to be done, you had better go. The young master has a +headache, he will remain in bed for another hour. I'll come +directly." + +She rushed across to her room. There was no time to change her +dress, but she would at any rate have to fasten up her hair that had +fallen down, smooth it and put a little cap on trimmed with dainty +ribbons. + +"Still in your morning-gown?" said her husband in a tone of +surprise, as she came into the dining-room. There was also a little +reproach in his voice as he asked the question; he did not like people +not to dress for dinner. + +"You came exceptionally early to-day," she said in excuse. She did +not dare to look up frankly, she felt so exceedingly humiliated. She +could not eat, an intolerable memory rendered every drink, every +mouthful loathsome. + +"Where is Wolfgang?" + +There was the question for which she really ought to have been +prepared and which crushed her nevertheless. She had no means of +warding it off. What was she to answer? Should she say he was ill? Then +his father would go up and see him. Should she say he was +drunk and sleeping? Oh no, no, and still it could not remain a secret. +She turned red and white, her lips quivered and not a word crossed +them. + +"Ha ha!" All at once her husband gave a loud laugh--a laugh partly +good-natured and partly mocking--and then he stretched his hand to her +across the table and eyed her calmly: "You must not agitate yourself +like that if the boy feels a little seedy for once in a way. Such +things do happen, every mother has to go through that." + +"But not to that degree--not to that awful degree!" She screamed out +aloud, overwhelmed with pain and anger. And then she seized her +husband's hand and squeezed it between both hers that were cold and +damp, and whispered, half stifled: "He was drunk--quite drunk--dead +drunk!" + +"Really?" The man frowned, but the smile did not quite disappear +from his lips. "Well, I'll have a word with the boy when he has +finished sleeping. Dead drunk, you say?" + +She nodded. + +"It won't have been quite as bad as that, I suppose. Still, to be +drunk--that must not happen again. To take a little too much"--he +shrugged his shoulders and a smile passed over his face as at some +pleasant memory--"by Jove, who has been young and not taken a little +too much for once in a way? Oh, I can still remember the first time I +had done so. The headache after it was appalling, but the drop too much +itself was fine, splendid! I would not like to have missed that." + +"You--you've been drunk too?" She stared at him, with eyes +distended. + +"Drunk--you mustn't call that drunk exactly. A little too much," he +corrected. "You mustn't exaggerate like that, Kate." And then +he went on with his dinner as if nothing had happened, as if the +conversation had not succeeded in depriving him of his appetite. + +She was in a fever. When would Wolfgang wake? And what would happen +then? + +Towards evening she heard his step upstairs, heard him close his +window and then open it again, heard his low whistle that always +sounded like a bird chirping. Paul was walking up and down in the +garden, smoking his cigar. She was sitting in the veranda for the first +time that spring, looking down at her husband in the garden. The +weather was mild and warm. Then she heard Wolfgang approaching; she +made up her mind she would not turn her head, she felt so ashamed, but +she turned it nevertheless. + +He was standing in the doorway leading from the dining-room to the +veranda; behind him was twilight, in front of him the brightness of the +evening sun. He blinked and pressed his eyes together, the sun shone on +his face and made it flame--or was it red because he felt so ashamed? +What would he say now? How would he begin? Her heart throbbed; she +could not have spoken a single word, her throat felt as though she were +choking. + +"Good evening," he said in a loud and cheery voice. And then he +cleared his throat as though swallowing a slight embarrassment and said +in a low voice, approaching his mother a little more: "I beg your +pardon, mater, I've overslept myself. I had no idea it was so late--I +was dead tired." + +Still she did not say anything. + +He did not know how he stood with her. She was so quiet, that +confused him a little. "The fact is, I came home very late last +night." + +"Oh! did you?" She turned her head away from him and looked +out into the garden again with eyes full of interest, where her husband +was just speaking to Friedrich and pointing with his finger to an +ornamental cherry-tree that was already in bloom. + +"I think so, at least," he said. What was he to say? Was she angry? +He must indeed have come home very late, he could not remember at what +time, altogether he could not remember anything clearly, everything +seemed rather blurred to him. He had also had a bad dream and had felt +wretched, but now he was all right again, quite all right. Well, if she +had any fault to find with him, she would have to come out with it. + +Pointing his lips again so as to whistle like a bird and with his +hands in the pockets of his smart, well-cut trousers, he was about to +go down into the garden from the veranda when she called him back. + +"Do you want anything, mater?" + +"You were drunk," she said softly, vehemently. + +"I--? Oh!" He was overcome with a sudden confusion. Had he really +been drunk? He had no idea of it. But she might be right all the same, +for he had no idea how he had come home. + +"I suppose you've again been sitting up waiting for me?" He gave her +a suspicious sidelong glance, and frowned so heavily that his dark +eyebrows met. "You mustn't always wait up for me," he said with secret +impatience, but outwardly his tone was anxious. "It makes me lose all +liking to do anything with the others if I think you are sacrificing +your night's rest. Please don't do so again, mater." + +"I won't do so again," she said, with her eyes fixed on her lap. She +could not have looked at him, she despised him so. How broad and big +and bold he had looked as he stood there saying good evening quite +happily. He had behaved as if he knew nothing of all that +had happened, that he had wanted to creep on all fours, stretch +himself on the doorstep as if that were his bed or he a dog. He was +as unembarrassed as though he had not been lying in his room at +dinner-time in such--such a filthy condition; as though she had not +seen him in his deep humiliation. No, she would never, never be able to +kiss him again or caress him, to lay her arms round his neck as she had +been so fond of doing when he was a boy. All at once he had become +quite a stranger to her. + +She did not say another word, did not reproach him. She heard what +her husband said to him, when he joined him in the garden, as if it did +not concern her. + +Although Paul Schlieben had seemed very mild when speaking to his +wife at dinner-time, he was not so now when face to face with his son. +"I hear you came home drunk--what do you mean by that?" he said to him +severely. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" + +"Who has said so?" + +"That's nothing to do with you, I know it, and that is +sufficient." + +"_She_, of course," said the boy bitterly. "The mater always +exaggerates everything. I was certainly not drunk, I only had a little +too much--we all had--good gracious, pater, you must do what the others +do! What else is one to do on such a long evening? But it was certainly +nothing bad. See how fresh I am." And he took hold of the ornamental +cherry-tree, under which they were standing, with both hands, as if he +were going to root it up, and a whole shower of white blossoms fell +down on him and on the path. + +"Let my tree alone," said his father, smiling. + +Kate saw it. Could Paul laugh? So he did not take it very seriously, +after all. But that did not provoke her as it would have done +some time ago, she felt as if everything in her were cold and dead. She +heard the two speak as though they were far, far away, their voices +sounded quite low, and still they were speaking loudly and also +animatedly. + +All the same the conversation was not altogether friendly. Even if +the man was not seriously angry with the lad, he still considered it +his duty to expostulate with him. He concluded by saying: "Such +immoderate drinking is disgusting!"--but he thought to himself: "It +cannot have been so bad as Kate makes out, or I should have seen some +signs of it." His brown cheeks were smooth and firm, so shiny and so +lately washed, his eyes, which were not large but noticeable on account +of their dark depths, were even more sparkling than usual. + +The man laid his hand on his son's shoulder: "So we must have no +more of that, Wolfgang, if we're to remain friends." + +The boy shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I really don't know what +crime I've committed, pater. The whole thing is something of a mystery +to me. But it shan't happen again, I promise you." + +And they shook hands. + +Now something really did stir in Kate. She would have liked to have +jumped up, to have cried: "Don't believe him, Paul, don't believe him. +He's sure to get drunk again. I don't trust him. I cannot trust him. If +you had seen him as I saw him--oh, he was so vulgar!" And as in a +vision a village tavern suddenly appeared before her eyes, a tavern she +had never seen. Rough men sat round the wooden table, leaning on their +elbows, smoking evil-smelling tobacco, drinking heavily, bawling wildly +... ah, had not his father sat among them? His grandfather too? All +those from whom he was descended? She was seized with a +terrible fear. It could never, never end well. + +"You are so pale, Kate," her husband said at the evening meal. "You +sat still too long; it is still too cold outside." + +"Aren't you well, mater?" inquired Wolfgang, politely anxious. + +Kate did not answer her son, she only looked at her husband and +shook her head: "I am quite well." + +That satisfied them. + +Wolfgang ate with a good appetite, with a specially big one even; he +was quite ravenous. There were also lots of good things of which he was +fond: hot fricassee of chicken with sweetbread, force-meat balls and +crawfish tails, and then some very good cold meat, butter and cheese +and young radishes. + +"Boy, don't drink so much," said Paul Schlieben, as Wolfgang seized +the decanter again. + +"I'm thirsty," said his son with a certain defiance, filling his +glass to the brim and drinking it in one gulp. + +"That comes of revelling." His father shook his finger at him, but +smiled at the same time. + +"It comes of swilling," thought Kate, and she shuddered with disgust +again. She had never used such an expression before even in her +thoughts, but now none seemed strong, blunt, contemptuous enough. + +There was no pleasant conversation in spite of the room being so +cosy, the appointments of the table so beautiful, the flowers so +prettily arranged in a cut-glass bowl on the white table-cloth, and +above it all a soft subdued light under a green silk shade. Kate was so +monosyllabic that Paul soon seized the newspaper, and the boy, after +trying to stifle his yawns, at last got up. It was really too awfully +slow to have to sit there. Should he drive into Berlin again +or go to bed? He did not quite know himself what to do. + +"You are going to bed now?" said his mother. It was intended for a +question, but Kate heard herself that it did not sound like one. + +"Of course he's going to bed now," said his father, looking up from +his paper for a moment. "He's tired. Good night, my lad." + +"I'm not tired." Wolfgang grew red and hot. What did they mean by +wanting to persuade him that he was tired? He was no longer a child to +be sent to bed. His mother's tone irritated him especially--"you are +going to bed now"--that was an order. + +The sparkle in his dark eyes became a blaze; the expression of +defiance and refractoriness on his face was not pleasant to see. They +could no doubt see in what a passion he was, but his father said "Good +night," and held out his hand to him without looking up from the +newspaper. + +His mother also said "Good night." + +And the son grasped first one hand and then the other--he imprinted +the usual kiss on his mother's hand--and said "Good night." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Paul Schlieben was sitting in his private office, in the red armchair +he had had placed there for his comfort. But he was not leaning back in +it, he was sitting very uncomfortably, straight up, and he looked like +a man who has made a disagreeable discovery. How could the boy have +contracted debts--with such ample pocket-money? And then that he had +not the courage to come and say: "Father, I've spent too much, help +me," was simply incomprehensible. Was he such a severe father that his +son had reason to fear him? Did the fear drive out love? He reviewed +his own conduct; he really could not reproach himself for having been +too strict. If he had not always been so yielding as Kate--she was too +yielding--he had always thought he had repeatedly shown the boy that he +was fond of him. And had he not also--just lately--thought the boy was +fond of him too? More fond of him than before? Wolfgang had just grown +sensible, had seen that they had his welfare at heart, that he was his +parents' dear son, their ever-increasing delight, their hope--nay, now +that they had grown old, their whole future. How was it that he +preferred to go to others, to people with whom he had nothing to do, +and borrow from them instead of asking his father? + +The man took up a letter from his writing-desk with a +grieved look, read it through once more, although he had already read +it three or four times, and then laid it back again with a gesture of +vexation. In it Braumueller, who had lately retired from the firm and +was at present in Switzerland for his health and recreation, wrote that +the boy had already borrowed money from him several times. Not that he +would not gladly give him it, that did not matter to him in the +slightest, but still he considered it his duty--&c., &c. + +"The fact is, dear Schlieben, the boy has got into a fast set. I'm +awfully sorry to have to tell tales about him, but I cannot put it off +any longer, as he goes to others just as well as he comes to me. And it +would be extremely painful, of course, if the son of Messrs. Schlieben +& Co., to whom I still count myself as belonging with the old devotion, +should become common talk. Don't take it amiss, old friend. I make the +boy a present of all he owes me; I am fond of him and have also been +young. But I am quite pleased to have no children, it is a deucedly +difficult job to train one. Good-bye, remember me very kindly to your +wife, it is splendid here ..." + +The man stared over the top of the paper with a frown; this letter, +which had been written with such good intentions and was so kind, hurt +him. It hurt him that Wolfgang had so little confidence in him with +respect to this matter. Was he not straightforward? He remembered very +distinctly that he had always been truthful as a child, had been so +outspoken as to offend--he had been rude, but never given to lying. +Could he have changed so now? How was that, and why? + +The man resolved not to mention anything about the letter, but to +ask Wolfgang when he found an opportunity--but it must be as soon as +possible--in what condition his money matters were. Then he would +hear. + +He quite longed to ask the question, and still he did not +say a word when Wolfgang entered the private room soon afterwards +without knocking, as all the others did, and with all the careless +assurance of a son. He sat down astride on his father's writing-desk, +quite unmindful of the fact that his light trousers came into +unpleasant contact with the ink-stand. The air out of doors was clear +and the sun shone brightly; he brought a large quantity of both with +him into the room that was always kept dark, cool and secluded. + +"Had something to vex you, pater?" What fancies could the old +gentleman have got hold of now? Certainly nothing of importance. On the +whole, who could feel vexed in such delightful, pleasant summer +weather? + +Wolfgang loved the sun. As he had gazed admiringly at the small copy +of it when a child, the round yellow sunflower in his garden, so he +still delighted in it. If the perspiration stood in drops on his brown +skin, he would push his white panama hat a little further back from his +forehead, but he never drew his breath more freely, easily, and felt +less oppressed. + +"It was splendid, pater," he said, and his eyes gleamed. "First of +all I swam the whole width of the lake three times, there and back and +there and back and there and back again without stopping. What do you +say to that?" + +"Much too tiring, very thoughtless," remarked Paul Schlieben, not +without some anxiety. Indeed Hofmann was not at all anxious that the +boy should swim. + +"Thoughtless? Fatiguing? Ha ha!" Wolfgang thought it great fun. +"That's a mere trifle to me. I've really missed my vocation, you know. +You ought not to have put me into an office. I ought to have been a +swimmer, a rider or--well, a cowboy in the Wild West." + +He had said it in joke without meaning anything, but it seemed to +the man, who suddenly looked at him with eyes that had grown +suspicious, that something serious, an accusation, was concealed behind +the joke. What did he want then? Did he want to gallop through life +like an unrestrained boy? + +"Well, your sporting capacities will be of use to you when you are a +soldier," he said coolly. "At present what you have to do here is of +more importance. Have you drawn up the contract for delivery for White +Brothers? Show it to me." + +"Directly." + +Wolfgang disappeared; but it was some time before he returned. Had +he only done the work now, which he had been told was urgent and was to +be done carefully? The ink was still quite fresh, the writing was very +careless, even if legible; it was no business hand. Schlieben frowned; +he was strangely irritable to-day. At any other time he would have been +struck by the celerity with which the boy had finished the work he had +neglected; but to-day the careless writing, the inkspots in the margin, +the slipshod manner in which it had all been done, which seemed to him +to point to a want of interest, vexed him. + +"Hm!" He examined it once more critically. "When did you do +this?" + +"When you gave me it to do." The tone in which Wolfgang said this +was so unabashed that it was impossible to doubt it. + +The man felt quite ashamed of himself. How a seed of suspicion +grows! He had really wronged his son this time. But that question of +the money still remained, the boy had not been open and honest in that. +It seemed to the father that he could not quite rely on his son any +more now. + +It was hardly noon when Wolfgang left the office again. He had +arranged to meet a couple of acquaintances in the Imperial Cafe not far +from the Linden; he would have to have something to eat, and +whether he had his lunch there or somewhere else was of no consequence; +a sandwich, which was all his father took with him from home, was not +sufficient for him after swimming and riding. + +Then he showed himself again at the office for an hour in the +afternoon, but in his tennis clothes this time, in white shoes, a +racket in his hand. + +When Wolfgang left the West End tennis-ground that afternoon, hot +and red--the games had been long and obstinate--and went across to the +Zoological Gardens' Station, he hesitated as he stood at the entrance +to it. He did not feel as if he wanted to go home at all. Should he not +drive into town again instead? As a matter of fact he did not feel +tempted to go into the streets either, which the drifting crowds made +still closer; it was better in the suburbs, where there was at least a +breath of fresh air blowing over the villa--but then he would have to +sit with his parents. And if his father were in just as bad a humour as +he had been at the office that morning, it would be awful. Then it +would be better to find some friend or other in Berlin. If only he had +not had his tennis suit on. That hindered him. He was still standing +undecided when he suddenly saw in the crowd that now, when work was +over and free-time come, was winding its way through the entrance to +the station like a long worm and dividing itself into arms to go up the +steps to the right and left, a mass of fair hair gleaming under a white +sailor-hat trimmed with a blue velvet band and pressed down on a +forehead, which seemed well-known to him. It was beautiful fair silky +hair, smooth and shining; carelessly arranged in an enormous knot to +all appearances, but in reality with much care. And now he recognised +the blue eyes and the pert little nose under the straw hat. Frida +Laemke! Oh, what a long time since he had seen her. He suddenly +remembered the hundreds of times he had neglected them. How little he +had troubled himself about those good people. That was very wrong of +him. And all at once it seemed to him that he had missed them always, +the whole time. He reached her side with one bound like an impetuous +boy, not noticing that he trod on a dress here and that he gave +somebody a shove in the side there. + +"Frida!" + +She gave a little start. Who had accosted her so boldly? + +"How do, Frida. How are you?" + +She did not recognise him at first, but then she blushed and pouted. +What a gentleman Wolfgang had grown. And she answered a little pertly, +a little affectedly: "Very well, thanks, Mr. Wolfgang. Are you quite +well too?" and she threw her fair head back and laughed. + +He would not hear of her calling him "Mr. Wolfgang." "Nonsense, what +are you thinking of?" And he was so cordial, so quite the Wolfgang of +former years, that she was soon on the old terms with him again. She +dropped her affectation entirely. They walked beside each other as +intimately as if almost a year had not passed since last they had +talked together. + +"Young lovers," thought many a one who came across them strolling +along near the coppices in the Tiergarten. They had let their train +go--he had no wish to hurry home, at any rate--and so they walked +further and further in among the green trees, where it was already dark +and where even his light tennis suit and her light blouse could not be +distinguished any longer. The nightingales had grown silent long ago; +all that was heard was a girl's soft laugh now and then, which sounded +like the cooing of a dove, and the low whispers of invisible couples. +Whispers came from the benches that stood in the dark, summer dresses +rustled, burning cigars gleamed like glow-worms; all the seats +one came across were occupied. It was extremely close in the park. + +Wolfgang and Frida spoke of Frau Laemke. "She's always ill, she has +had to go to the doctor so often," said the girl, and her voice +trembled with sincere grief. Wolfgang was very sorry. + +When Frida came home that evening extremely late--the house had been +closed long before; Frau Laemke had already begun to get nervous, and +did not know how she should keep the roast potatoes warm--she threw her +arms round her mother's neck: "Mother, mummy, don't scold." And then it +came out with a rush, that she had met Wolfgang: "Wolfgang Schlieben, +you know. He was so nice, mother, you can't think how nice he was. Not +the slightest bit stuck-up. And he asked at once how you were, and when +I told him you had something the matter with your stomach and your +nerves, he was so sorry. And he said: 'You must get your mother out in +this beautiful weather,' and he gave me this bank-note--here, do you +see it, a green one. I did not want to take it on any account, what +would people think of it?--but he was so strong, he stuffed it into my +hand. I could have screamed, he pulled my fingers apart so--are you +angry, mother, that I took it? I didn't want to, I really didn't want +to. But he said, 'It's for your mother.' And 'Do be sensible, Frida.'" +Frida almost cried, she felt so touched and so grateful. + +Frau Laemke took it more calmly. "Perhaps I can go to Eberswald to +my brother, or even to my sister in the Riesengebirge. And I'll give up +the places where I clean for a few weeks, that will do me an enormous +amount of good. The good boy, that was nice of him, that he thought of +his old friend. Hm, he can do it too. What are fifty marks to people +like him?" + +When Wolfgang had taken Frida to her door he had strolled on slowly, +his racket under his arm, his hands in the pockets of his wide +trousers. A sky, richly spangled with stars, extended over his head, +innumerable golden eyes watching him with a kind twinkle. There were no +more wheels to be heard, no crowds of pedestrians whirled up the dust +of the street any longer. What the dust-carts, passing backwards and +forwards during the day, had not been able to do, the night-dew had +done. The loose sand had been settled, a cool freshness rose up out of +the earth, one could smell the trees and bushes; a fragrance of flowers +ascended from the beds in the gardens that the darkness had swallowed +up. Wolfgang drew a deep breath of delight and whistled softly; his +heart was full of peace and joy; now it was a good thing he was not +wandering about in Berlin. It had been so nice with Frida. What a lot +they had had to talk about--and then--he was really awfully pleased to +be able to help Frau Laemke a little. + +He came home thoroughly happy. + +"The master and mistress have had their supper long ago," Friedrich +took the liberty of remarking with a certain reproach--the young +gentleman was really too unpunctual. + +"Well, can't be helped," said Wolfgang. "Tell the cook she's to +prepare me something quickly, a cutlet or some beefsteak, or--what else +was there for supper this evening? I'm ravenous." + +Friedrich looked at him quite taken aback. Now! at half past ten? +The master or the mistress had never thought of asking for such a +thing--a warm supper at half past ten? He stood hesitating. + +"Well, am I soon going to get something?" the young gentleman called +to him over his shoulder, and went into the dining-room. + +His parents were still sitting at the table--both were reading--but +the table was empty. + +"Good evening," said the boy, "is the table cleared already?" You +could plainly hear the surprise in his voice. + +"So there you are!" His father nodded to him but did not look up; he +seemed to be quite taken up with his reading. And his mother said: "Are +you going to sit with us a little?" + +All at once the lad shivered. It had been so nice and warm outside, +here it was cool. + +And then everything was quiet for a while, until Friedrich came in +with a tray on which there was only a little cold meat, bread, butter +and cheese beside the knife and fork. It struck Wolfgang how loudly he +rattled the things; the housemaid generally waited. "Where's +Marie?" + +"In bed," said his mother curtly. + +"Already?" Wolfgang wondered why to himself. Hark, the clock in his +mother's room was just striking--eleven? Was it actually already eleven +o'clock? They would really have to be quick and get him something to +eat, he was dying for want of food. He fixed his eyes on the door +through which Friedrich had disappeared. Was something soon coming? + +He waited. + +"Eat something." His mother pushed the dish with cold meat nearer to +him. + +"Why don't you eat?" asked his father suddenly. + +"Oh, I am still waiting." + +"There's nothing more," said his mother, and her face, which looked +so extremely weary like the face of one who has waited long in vain, +flushed slightly. + +"Nothing else?--nothing more?--why?" The boy looked exceedingly +disappointed. He glanced from his mother to the table, then to +the sideboard and then round the room as though searching for +something. + +"Haven't you had anything else to eat?" + +"Yes, we have had something else--but if you don't come--" His +father knit his brows, and then he looked straight at his son for the +first time that evening, surveying him with a grave glance. "You can't +possibly expect to find a warm supper, when you come home so +unpunctually." + +"But you--you are not obliged to"--the young man swallowed the +rest--he would have much preferred it had his parents not sat there +waiting for him; the servants would have done what was expected of +them. + +"Perhaps you think the servants don't require their night's rest?" +said his father, as though he had guessed his thought. "The maids, who +have been in the kitchen the whole day, want to have done in the +evening as well as other people. So you must come earlier if you want +to have supper with us. Moreover, I don't suppose it will harm a young +fellow to get nothing but a piece of bread and butter for his supper +for once in a way. Besides, you who--" he was going to say "you who get +such a good dinner"--but the young man's face, which expressed such +immeasurable astonishment, irritated him, and he said in a loud and, +contrary to his custom, angry voice, angrier than he had intended: +"You--are you entitled to make such claims? How can you think of doing +so, you especially?" A movement made by his wife, the rustling of her +dress, reminded him of her presence, and he continued more temperately, +but with a certain angry scorn: "Perhaps you do too much? Two hours at +the office in the morning--hardly that--an hour in the afternoon--yes, +that's an astonishing, an enormous amount of work, which must +tax your powers greatly. Indeed, it requires quite special food. Well, +what, what?" + +Wolfgang had been going to say something, but his father did not +allow him to speak: "Let me see a more modest look on your face first, +and then you may speak. Lad, I tell you, if you apply to Braumueller for +money any more----!" + +There, there, it was out. In his wrath he had forgotten the +diplomatic questions he had intended asking, and all he had meant to +find out by listening to his replies. The man felt quite a relief now +he could say: "It's an unheard-of thing! It's a disgrace for you--and +for me!" The excited voice had calmed down, the last words were almost +choked by a sigh. The man rested his arm on the table and his head in +his hand; one could see that he took it much to heart. + +Kate sat silent and pale. Her eyes were distended with horror--so he +had done that, that, borrowed money? That too? Not only that he got +drunk, dead drunk but that, that too? It could not be possible--no! Her +eyes sought Wolfgang's face imploringly. He must deny it. + +"Why, really, pater," said Wolfgang, trying to smile, "I don't know +what's the matter with you. I asked your partner to do me a little +favour--besides, he offered to do it himself, he has always been most +friendly to me. I was just going to send it back to him"--he glanced +sideways at his father: did he know how much it was?--"I'll send it to +him to-morrow." + +"Oh, to-morrow." There was suspicion in the man's tone, but a +certain relief nevertheless; he was so anxious to think the best of his +son. "What other debts have you?" he asked. And then he was suddenly +seized with the fear that the lad was deceiving him, and, terrified at +the great responsibility he had taken on himself, he said in a +voice that was harder than he really intended, much harder than was +compatible with his feelings: "I would punish you as a good-for-nothing +fellow if I heard you had! I would cast you off--then you could see how +you got on. Disgraceful debts! To be in debt!" + +Kate gazed at her husband the whole time. She had never seen him +like that before. She wanted to call out, to interrupt him: "You are +too strict, much too strict. You'll prevent him confessing anything if +you speak like that"--but she could not say a word. She was mute under +the burden of the fears that overwhelmed her. Her eyes, full of a +terrible anxiety, hung on the young face that had grown pale. + +Wolfgang's lips quivered; his thoughts were active. He wanted to +speak, had already opened his mouth to do so, to confess that he had +spent more than he had had. If only his father were not always so +extremely proper. Good gracious, you cannot help pulling handfuls of +money out of your pockets if you have got it to spend! But he did not +say anything to these--these two about it. They were good people on the +whole, but they could not put themselves into his place. Good people? +No, they were not. + +And now came his indignation. What possessed his father to treat him +in that manner, to scold him in that tone of voice? Like a criminal. +And she, why did she stare at him in that way with eyes in which he +thought he read something that looked like contempt? Well, then, he +would horrify them still more, hurl into their faces: "Of course I have +debts, what does that matter?" But in the midst of his anger came the +cool calculation: what had his father said: "I would cast you off"? + +All at once Wolfgang got a great fright. He had need of +these people, he could not do without them. And so he pulled himself +together quickly: he must not confess anything, by any means, he must +be sure not to betray himself. And he said, in a quick transition from +defiant passion to smooth calmness: "I don't know why you excite +yourself so, pater. I have none." + +"Really none?" His father looked at him gravely and inquiringly, but +a glad hope shone already through the gravity. + +And when his son answered "No," he stretched out his hand to him +across the table: "I'm pleased to hear it." + +They were very nice to him that evening. Wolfgang felt it with much +satisfaction. Well, they owed him an apology, too. He allowed them to +make much of him. + +The father felt glad, quite relieved that nothing else, nothing +worse had come to light, and the mother had the feeling for the first +time for many weeks that it was possible to love the lad again. Her +voice had something of the old sound once more when she spoke to him. +And she spoke a good deal to him, she felt the need to do so. She had +not spoken so much to him during all those weeks. She felt as if a +spring within her had been bricked up and had to discharge itself now. +He had contracted no debts. Thank God, he was not quite so bad then! +Now she was sorry she had sent the maids to bed, because she had been +annoyed with him for coming home so late--for his loafing about, as she +had called it in her thoughts--and had no proper supper for him. If she +had not been afraid of her husband, she would have gone down into the +kitchen and tried to prepare something better for him herself. + +"Have you really had enough?" she said to him in a low voice. + +"Oh, it'll do." He felt his superiority. + +Paul Schlieben put his paper aside that evening. When his son asked +him politely if he would not read, he shook his head: "No, I've read +the whole evening." He, too, felt the need of, nay, felt it his duty to +have, a friendly talk to his son, even if he found that Kate was going +too far, as usual. She really need not make such a fuss of the boy, he +had done wrong hi any case; the Braumueller matter must not be +forgotten, he ought to have come openly--but really, after all, it was +only a stupidity, a thing that might happen ninety times out of every +hundred. + +The man resolved to raise his monthly allowance by 100 marks, when +he paid him on the first of the month. Then he would certainly have +ample, and there could be no more talk of not being able to make both +ends meet and of secrecy. + +It was already far past midnight when the parents and son at last +parted. Kate stretched herself in her bed with a feeling of happiness +she had not known for a long time: she would soon fall asleep; she +would not have to lie so long waiting for sleep to come to her, she +felt so relieved, so reassured, so soothed. Things were working better +now, everything would still be right at last. And she whispered softly +to her husband: "Paul!" He did not hear her, he was already half +asleep. Then she whispered more urgently: "Paul, Paul!" And when he +moved she said softly: "Paul, are you angry with me?" + +"Angry? Why should I be?" + +"Oh, I only thought you might be." She did not want to give any +explanation, besides it was hardly necessary, for she had the +impression that he, too, felt that they themselves would be on better, +pleasanter, more cordial and more united terms with each other +in the future. Oh yes, if they were on better terms with him--the +boy--then he and she would also be on better terms with each other. + +The elderly woman was seized with a great longing for the days when +they loved each other. She felt ashamed of herself, but she could not +help it, she stretched out her hand to the bed that stood next to hers: +"Give me your hand, Paul." + +And as she groped about in the dark, she found his hand that was +searching for hers. They clasped hands. + +"Good night, dear husband." + +"Good night, dear wife." + +They fell asleep thus. + +Wolfgang stood at the window of his room, looking out into the +obscurity that hid all the stars and listening to the roar of the +distant wind. Was the night so sultry, or was it only he who was so +unbearably hot? A thunder-storm seemed to be coming on. Or was it only +an inward restlessness that weighed him down? What was it that tortured +him? + +He thought he had hardly ever felt so uncomfortable before. He was +vexed with his father, vexed with his mother--if they had been +different from what they were, if everything had been different from +what it was, he would not have been obliged to tell lies, to dissemble. +He was vexed with himself. Oh, then he would have felt easier now, much +freer. He knit his brows angrily; a sudden longing for something he +could not name made him tremble. What did he want, what was he longing +for? If he only knew! + +He gave a loud sigh, and stretched his arms with the strong hands +out into the night. Everything was so narrow, so narrow. If he only +were the boy again who had once climbed out of this window, yes, this +window--he leant out and measured the height--who had run +away, hurrah! without asking himself where he was going, simply on and +on. That had been magnificent! A splendid run! + +And he leant further and further out of the window. The night wind +was whispering, it was like an alluring melody. He trembled with +eagerness. He could not tear himself away, he had to remain there +listening. The wind was rising, there was a rustling in the trees, it +rose and rose, grew and grew. The rustling turned into a +blustering. + +He forgot he was in a room in a house, and that he had parents there +who wanted to sleep. He gave a shout, a loud cry, half of triumph. How +beautiful it was out there, ah! + +A storm. The snorting wind, that had risen so suddenly, blew his +hair about and ruffled it at the temples. Ah, how beautifully that +cooled. It was unbearable in the house, so gloomy, so close. He felt so +scared, so terrified. How his heart thumped. And he felt so out of +temper: how unpleasant it had been that evening again. His father had +said he ought to have confessed it to him--of course, it would have +been better--but if he threatened him in that way after the thing was +over in a manner, what would he have said before? This everlasting +keeping him in leading strings was not to be borne. Was he still a +child? Was he a grown-up man or was he not? Was he the son of rich +parents or was he not? No, he was not. That was just what he was +not. + +The thunder rumbled afar in the dark night. Suddenly there was a +brilliant flash--that was just what he was not, not the son, not the +son of this house. Otherwise everything would have been different. He +did not know in what way--but different, oh, quite different. + +Wolfgang had not thought of these things for a long +time--the days were so full of distractions but now in this dark stormy +night, in which he would not be able to sleep, he had to think. What he +had always driven back because it was not pleasant, what he thought he +had quite forgotten--perhaps because he wished to forget it--he would +have to consider now. What had been repressed for so long broke out +forcibly now, like the stormy wind that suddenly came rushing along, +bending the tops of the pines so that they cowered with terror. +Wolfgang would have liked to have made his voice heard above the roar +of the storm. + +He was furious, quite absurdly furious, quite thoughtlessly furious. +Oh, how it lightened, crashed, rumbled, roared and snorted. What a +conflict--but it was beautiful nevertheless. He raised himself up on +his toes and exposed his hammering breast to the strong wind. He had +hardly ever felt such delight as when those gusts of wind struck his +chest like blows from a fist. He flung himself against them, he +regularly caught them on his broad chest. + +And still there was torture mingled with the delight. Face to face +with this great storm, that became an event in his life as it were, +everything else seemed so pitifully small to him, and he too. There he +stood now in coat and trousers, his hands in his pockets, rattling his +loose money; he was annoyed because he had let them lecture him, and +still he had not the courage to throw everything aside and do exactly +as he liked. + +The lad followed the yellow and blue flashes of lightning that clove +the dark stormy sky in zigzag, and poured a dazzling magic light over +the world, with sparkling eyes. Oh, to be able to rush along like that +flash of lightning. It rushed out of the clouds down to the earth, tore +her lap open and buried itself in it. + +His young blood, whose unused vitality quivered in his +clenched fists, his energy, which had not been spent on any work, +groaned aloud. All at once Wolfgang cursed his life. Oh, he ought to be +somewhere quite different, live at quite a different place, quite +different. + +And even if he were not so comfortable there, let him only get away +from this place, away. It bored him so terribly to be here. He loathed +it. He drew a deep breath, oh, if only he had some work he would like +to do! That would tire him out, so that he had no other desire but to +eat and then sleep. Better to be a day labourer than one who sits +perched on a stool in an office and sees figures, nothing but figures +and accounts and ledgers and cash-books--oh, only not let him be a +merchant, no, that was the very worst of all. + +Hitherto Wolfgang had never been conscious of the fact that he would +never be any good as a merchant; now he knew it. No, he did not like +it, he could not go on being a merchant. Everyone must surely become +what nature has meant him to be. + +He would say it in the morning--no, he would not go to the office +any more, he would not do it any longer. He would be free. He leant out +of the window once more, and scented the damp, pleasant smell that rose +up out of the soaked earth with distended nostrils, panting greedily +like a thirsty stag. + +The rain had come after the thunder and lightning, and had saturated +the thirsty earth and penetrated into it, filling all its pores with +fertility. It rained and rained uninterruptedly, came down in torrents +as if it would never end. + +Something gave way in Wolfgang's soul; it became soft. + +"Mother," he whispered dreamily, stretching out his hot hands so +that the cool rain bathed them. Then he stretched his head far out too, +closed his eyes and raised his head, so that the falling drops +refreshed his burning lids and the wide-open, thirsty lips +drank the tears of heaven as though they were costly wine. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +But in the morning, when the sand in the Grunewald had swallowed up +all the rain, and nothing was left of the storm that had cleared the +air during the night but the somewhat fresher green of the lawns, a +stronger smell of the pines and many fallen acorns and chestnuts on the +promenade, Wolfgang thought differently again. The day was beautiful; +he could swim, ride, go to the office for a short time, eat, drink, +play tennis, make an appointment for the evening--there were so many +places where you could amuse yourself--and why should he spoil this +splendid day for himself and, after all, his father too? He thrust +every graver thought aside as burdensome. But his soul was not at peace +all the same. He tried to deaden thought. + +Kate did not fall asleep so quickly as on the previous night; even +if she had promised herself not to sit up and wait for him any more, +she could not sleep if he were not at home. She heard the clocks strike +terribly loudly, as she had done on a former occasion; every noise, +even the slightest, penetrated to her ear through the stillness of the +house, sounding much louder. She would hear him, she must hear him as +soon as he stuck the key into the front door. + +But she heard nothing, although she lay long awake listening. The +hours crept on, the day dawned, a pale streak of light no broader than +her thumb stole through the closed shutters; she saw it on the wall +opposite to her bed. The light became gradually less and less wan, more +decided in colour, a warm, sunny, ruddy gold. No cock proclaimed the +new day with triumphant crow, the house was so quiet, the garden so +silent, but the light betrayed that it was morning. + +She must have slept, however, without knowing it. What, was it +already morning? She was sure now that he must have been at home a long +time, she had simply not heard him come in. That calmed her. But she +dressed hurriedly, without paying as much attention to her dress as +usual, and she could not resist standing outside his door to listen +before going down to breakfast. He was not up yet--of course not, he +had come home so late--he was still asleep. She would be able to look +at him without his knowing. She went in, but he was not asleep. + +The woman looked at the bed with bewildered eyes--there it was, +open, invitingly white and comfortable, but he was not in it. The bed +had not been touched. The room was empty. + +Then her heart grew cold with dread. So she had not slept, his +return had not escaped her. On that former occasion he had come +home--true, he was drunk, but still he had come home--but not this +time! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +"Wolfgang not here again?" said Paul Schlieben as he joined his wife in +her room. "He comes so little to the office too. They always assure me +that he has just been--but why doesn't he keep the same office-hours as +I? Where is he?" He looked inquiringly and impatiently at his wife. + +She shrugged her shoulders, and the evening sun, which was casting a +last gleam through the tall window as it set, touched her cheek with +red for a moment. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. And then she +looked so lost as she gazed out into the autumn evening, that her +husband felt that her thoughts were far away, looking for something +outside. + +"I've just come from town, Kate," he said somewhat annoyed, and the +vexation he felt at his son's absence gave his voice a certain +sharpness, "and I'm hungry and tired. It's already eight o'clock--we'll +have our supper. And you've not even a friendly face to show me?" + +She got up quickly to ring for supper, and tried to smile. But it +was no real smile. + +He saw it, and that put him still more out of humour. "Never mind, +don't try. Don't force yourself to smile." He sat down at the table +with a weary movement. But his hunger did not seem to be so great, +after all, as he only helped himself in a spiritless manner +when the steaming dishes were brought in and placed in front of him, +and ate in the same manner without knowing what he was eating. + +The dining-room was much too large for the two lonely people; the +handsome room looked uncomfortably empty on that cool evening in +autumn. The woman shivered with cold. + +"We shall have to start heating the house," said the man. + +That was all that was said during the meal. After it was over he got +up to go across to his study. He wanted to smoke there, the room was +smaller and cosier; he did not notice that his wife's eyes had never +left him. + +If Paul would only tell her what he thought of Wolfgang staying +away! Where could Wolfgang be now? She became entirely absorbed in her +wandering thoughts, and hardly noticed that she was alone in the cold +empty room. + +She had a book in front of her, a book the whole world found +interesting--an acquaintance had said to her: "I could not stop reading +it; I had so much to think about, but I forgot everything owing to the +book"--but it did not make her forget anything. She felt as though she +were in great trouble, and that that was making her dull. Even duller, +more indifferent to outward things than at the time of her father's and +mother's deaths. She had read so much in those years of mourning, and +with special interest, as though the old poems had been given to her +anew and the new ones were a cheering revelation. She could not read +anything now, could not follow another's thoughts. She clung to her own +thoughts. True, her eyes flew over the page, but when she got to the +bottom she did not know what she had read. It was an intolerable +condition. Oh, owh much she would have liked to have taken an +interest in something. What would she not have given only to be able to +laugh heartily for once; she had never experienced a similar longing +for cheerfulness, gaiety and humour before. Oh, what a relief it would +have been for her if she could have laughed and cried. Now she could +not laugh, but--alas!--not cry either, and that was the worst: her eyes +remained dry. But the tears of sorrow she had not wept burnt her heart +and wore out her life with their unshed salty moisture. + +No, death was not the most terrible that could happen. There were +more terrible things than that. It was terrible when one had to say to +oneself: "You have brought all your suffering on yourself. Why were +you not satisfied? Why must you take by force what nature had refused?" +It was more terrible when one felt how one's domestic happiness, one's +married happiness, love, faith, unity, how all that intimately unites +two people was beginning to totter--for did she not feel every day how +her husband was getting colder and colder, and that she also treated +him with more indifference? Oh, the son, that third person, it was he +who parted them. How miserably all her theories about training, +influence, about being born in the spirit had been overthrown. Wolfgang +was not the child in which she and her husband were united in body and +soul--he was and would remain of alien blood. And he had an alien soul. +Poor son! + +All at once a discerning compassion shot up in the heart of the +woman, who for days, weeks, months, even years, had felt nothing but +bitterness and mortification, ay, many a time even something like +revolt against the one who thus disturbed her days. How could she be so +very angry with him, who was not bound to his parents' house by a +hundred ties? It was not _his_ parents' house, that was just +the point. Maybe he unconsciously felt that the soil there was not his +native soil--and now he was seeking, wandering. + +Kate pondered, her head resting heavily in her hand: what was she to +do first? Should she confess to him where he came from? Tell him +everything? Perhaps things would be better then. But oh, it was so +difficult. But it must be done. She must not remain silent any longer. +She felt her trembling heart grow stronger, as she made the firm +resolve to speak to him when he returned home. What she had kept as the +greatest secret, what she had guarded with trembling, what nothing +could have torn from her, as she thought, she was now prepared to +reveal of her own free will. She must do so. Otherwise how could things +ever be better? How could they ever end happily, or ever end at +all? + +Her eyes wandered about seeking something fervently; there was a +terrified expression in them. But there was no other way out. Kate +Schlieben prepared herself for the confession with a resoluteness that +she would not have been capable of a year ago. For one moment the wish +came to her to call Paul to help her. But she rejected the thought +quickly--had he ever loved Wolfgang as she had done? Perhaps it would +be a matter of no moment to him--no, perhaps it would be a triumph to +him, he had always been of a different opinion to her. And then another +thing. He might perhaps forestall her, tell Wolfgang himself, and he +must not do that. She, she alone must do that, with all the love of +which she was still capable, so that it might be told him in a +forbearing, merciful and tender manner. + +She ran hastily across to her sitting-room. She kept the certificate +of his baptism and the deed of surrender they had got from his native +village in her writing-desk there; she had not even trusted +the papers to her husband. Now she brought them out and put them ready. +She would have to show him that everything was as she said. + +The papers rustled in her trembling hands, but she repressed her +agitation. She must be calm, quite calm and sensible; she must throw +down the castle in the air she had built for herself and that had not +turned out as in her dreams, knowing fully what she was doing. But even +if this castle in the air collapsed, could not something be saved from +the ruins? Something good rise from them? He would be grateful to her, +he must be grateful to her. And that was the good that would rise. + +She folded her hands over the common paper on which the evidence was +written, and quivering sighs escaped from her breast that were like +prayers. O God, help me! O God, help me! + +But if he did not understand her property, if she did not find the +words that must be found? If she should lose him thereby? She was +overcome with terror, she turned pale, and stretched out her hands +gropingly like one who requires a support. But she remained erect. Then +rather lose him than that he should be lost. + +For--and tears such as she had not been able to weep for a long, +long time, dropped from her eyes and relieved her--she still loved him, +after all, loved him more than she had considered possible. + +So she waited for him. And even if she had to wait until dawn and if +he came home drunk again--more drunk than the first time--she would +still wait for him. She must tell him that day. She was burning to tell +him. + +Paul Schlieben had gone to bed long ago. He was vexed with his wife, +had only stuck his head into the room and given a little nod: "Good +night," and gone upstairs. But she walked up and down the room +downstairs with slow steps. That tired her physically, but gave her +mind rest and thereby strength. + +When she went to meet Wolfgang in the hall on hearing him close the +door, her delicate figure looked as though it had grown, it was so +straight and erect. The house slept with all in it, only he and she +were still awake. They were never so alone, so undisturbed nowadays. +The time had come. + +And she held out her hand to him, which she would not have done +on any other occasion had he come so late--thank God, he was not +drunk!--and approached her face to his and kissed him on the cheek: +"Good evening, my son." + +He was no doubt somewhat taken aback at this reception, but his +sunken eyes with the black lines under them looked past her +indifferently. + +He was terribly tired--one could see--or was he ill? But all that +would soon be better now. Kate seized hold of his hand once more full +of the joyful hope that had been awakened in her, and drew him after +her into her room. + +He allowed himself to be drawn without resisting, he only asked with +a yawn: "What's the matter?" + +"I must tell you something." And then quickly, as though he +might escape her or she might lose courage, she added: "Something +important--that concerns you your that concerns your--your birth." + +What would he say--she had stopped involuntarily--what would he say +now? The secret of his birth for which he had fought full of longing, +fought strenuously--oh, what scenes those had been!--would now be +revealed to him. + +She leant towards him involuntarily, ready to support him. + +Then he yawned again: "Must it really be now, mater? There's plenty +of time to-morrow. The fact is, I am dead beat. Good night." And he +wheeled round, leaving her where she was, and went out of the room and +up the stairs to his bedroom. + +She stood there quite rigid. Then she put her hand up to her head: +what, what was it? She must not have understood him properly, she must +be deaf, blind or beside herself. Or he must be deaf, blind or beside +himself. She had gone up to him with her heart in her mouth, she had +held out her hand, she had wanted to speak to him about his birth--and +he? He had yawned--had gone away, it evidently did not interest him in +the slightest. And here, here, in this very room--it was not yet four +years ago--he had stood almost on the same spot in the black clothes he +had worn at his confirmation--almost as tall as he was now, only with a +rounder, more childish face--and had screamed aloud: "Mother, mother, +where is my mother?" And now he no longer wanted to know anything? + +It was impossible, she could not have understood him aright or he +not her. She must follow him, at once, without delay. It seemed to her +that she must not neglect a moment. + +She hurried noiselessly up the stairs in her grey dress. She saw her +shadow gliding along in the dull light the electric bulb cast on the +staircase-wall, but she smiled: no, she was not sorrow personified +gliding along like a ghost any longer. Her heart was filled with +nothing but joy, hope and confidence, for she was bringing him +something good, nothing but good. + +She went into his room without knocking, in great haste and without +reflecting on what she was doing. He was already in bed, he was just +going to put out the light. She sat down on the edge of his bed. + +"Wolfgang," she said gently. And as he gazed at her in surprise with +a look that was almost unfriendly, her voice sounded still softer: "My +son." + +"Yes--what's the matter now?" + +He was really annoyed, she noticed it in the impatient tone of his +voice, and then she suddenly lost courage. Oh, if he looked at her like +that, so coldly, and if his voice sounded so repellent, how difficult +it was to find the right word. But it must be done, he looked so pale +and was so thin, his round face had positively become long. What had +struck her before struck her with double force now, and she got a great +fright. "Wolfgang," she said hastily, avoiding his glance almost with +fear--oh, how he would accuse her, how reproachful he would be, and +justifiably reproachful--"I must tell you at last--it's better--it +won't surprise you much either. Do you still remember that Sunday it +was the day of your confirmation--you--you asked us then----" + +Oh, what along introduction it was. She called herself a coward; but +it was so difficult, so unspeakably difficult. + +He did not interrupt her with a single sound, he asked no questions, +he did not sigh, he did not even move. + +She did not venture to turn her eyes, which were fixed on one point +straight in front of her, to look at him. His silence was terrible, +more terrible than his passion. And she called out with the courage of +despair: "You are not our son, not our own son." + +He still did not say anything; did not make a single sound, did not +move. Then she turned her eyes on him. And she saw how the lids fell +over his tired, already glassy eyes, how he tore them open again with +difficulty and how they closed once more, in short, how he fought with +sleep. + +He could sleep whilst she told him this--this? A terrible feeling of +disillusion came over her, but still she seized hold of his +arm and shook him, whilst her own limbs trembled as though with fever: +"Don't you hear--don't you hear me? You are not our son--not our own +son." + +"Yes, I know," he said in a weary voice. "Leave me, leave me." He +made a gesture as if to thrust her away. + +"And it--" her complete want of comprehension made her stammer like +a child--"it does not affect you? It--it leaves you so cold?" + +"Cold? Cold?" He shrugged his shoulders, and his tired, dull eyes +began to gleam a little. "Cold? Who says it leaves me cold--has left me +cold?" he amended hastily. "But you two have not asked about that. Now +_I_ won't hear anything more about it. I'm tired now. I want to sleep." +He turned his back on her, turned his face to the wall and did not move +any more. + +There she stood--he was already asleep, or at least seemed to be so. +She waited anxiously a few minutes longer--would he, would he not have +to turn once more to her and say: "Tell me, I'm listening now." But he +did not turn. + +Then she crept out of the room like a condemned criminal. Too late, +too late. She had spoken too late, and now he did not want to hear +anything more about it, nothing more whatever. + +In her dull wretchedness the words "too late" hurt her soul as if +they had been branded on it. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Kate had no longer the courage to revert again to what she had +wanted to confess to Wolfgang that night. Besides, what was the good? +She had the vivid feeling that there was no getting at him any more, +that he could not be helped any more. But she felt weighed down as +though she had committed a terrible crime. And the feeling of this +great crime made her gentler towards him than she would +otherwise have been; she felt called upon to make excuses for his +actions both to herself and her husband. + +Paul Schlieben was very dissatisfied with Wolfgang. "If only I +knew where he's always wandering about. I suppose he's at home at +night--eh?" + +An involuntary sound from his wife had interrupted him, now he +looked at her inquiringly. But she did not change countenance in the +slightest, she only gave an affirmative nod. So the husband relied upon +his wife. + +And now the last days of autumn had come, which are often so warm +and beautiful, more beautiful than summer. Everybody streamed out into +the Grunewald, to bathe themselves once more in the sun and air ere +winter set in. The people came in crowds to Hundekehle and Paulsborn, +to Uncle Tom and the Old Fisherman's Hut as though it were Sunday every +day. There was laughter everywhere, often music too, and young girls in +light dresses, in last summer's dresses that were not yet quite worn +out. Children made less noise in the woods now than in summer; it grew +dark too early now, but there were all the more couples wandering +about, whom the early but still warm dusk gave an excellent opportunity +to exchange caresses, and old people, who wanted to enjoy the sun once +more ere the night perhaps came that is followed by no morning. + +Formerly Paul Schlieben had always detested leaving his house and +garden on such days, when the Grunewald was overrun with people. He had +always disliked swallowing the dust the crowd raised. But now he was +broader-minded. Why should the people, who were shut up in cramped +rooms on all the other days, not be out there too for once in a way, +and inhale the smell of the pines for some hours, at any rate, which +they, the privileged ones, enjoyed every day. It did one good +to see how happy people could be. + +He ordered a carriage, a comfortable landau, both to give himself a +pleasure and also to distract his wife, who seemed to him to be graver +and more lost in thought than ever, and went for a drive with her. They +drove along the well-known roads through the Grunewald, and also got +out now and then when the carriage forced its way more slowly through +the sand, and walked beside it for a bit along the foot-path, which the +fallen pine-needles had made smooth and firm. + +They came to Schildhorn. The red glow of evening lay across the +water; the sun could no longer be seen in all its splendour, a dusky, +melancholy peace lay over the Havel and the pines. Kate had never +thought the wood was so large. All at once she shivered: ah, the +cemetery where they buried the suicides lay over there. She did +not like to look in that direction, she pressed her eyes together +nervously. All at once a young lad moved across her mental +vision--young and fresh and yet ruined already--many a mother's son. + +She shuddered and wanted to hurry past, and still something drew her +feet irresistibly to the spot in the loose sand that had been enclosed. +She could not help it, she had to stop. Her eyes rested thoughtfully on +the ugly, uncared-for graves: had those who rested there found peace? A +couple of branches covered with leaves and a few flowers that she had +plucked on the way fell out of her hand. The evening wind blew them on +to the nearest grave; she let them lie there. Her heart felt extremely +sad. + +"Kate, do come," Paul called. "The carriage has been waiting for us +quite a long time." + +She felt very depressed. Fears and suspicions, that she could +not speak of to anybody, crowded upon her. Wolfgang was +unsteady--but was he bad? No, not bad--not yet. O God, no, she would +not think that! Not bad! But what would happen? How would it end? +Things could never be right again--how could they? A miracle would have +to happen then, and miracles do not happen nowadays. + +A gay laugh made her start. All the tables were occupied in the +restaurant garden; there were so many young people there and so much +light-heartedness, and so many lovers. They had got into their carriage +again and were now driving slowly past the garden, so they saw all the +light-coloured blouses and the gaily trimmed hats, all the finery of +the lower middle-class. + +Hark, there was that gay laugh again. A girl's loud laugh, a real +hearty one, and now: "Aha, catch her, catch her!" on hearing which Kate +held her breath as though frozen. She felt quite weak, all the blood +left her heart. That was Wolfgang! Her Wolfgang! + +Then he bounded after a girl who, with a cry of delight, flew across +the road in front of him and into the wood on the other side among the +tree-trunks. He rushed after her. For a moment the girl's light dress +and Wolfgang's flying shadow were seen whisking round the pines, and +then nothing more. But he must have reached her, for her shrill scream +and his laugh were heard; both drove the blood into Kate's cheeks. It +sounded so offensive to her, so vulgar. So he had got so far? He +wandered about there with such, such--persons? Ah, a couple of others +were following them, they belonged to the party, too. A hulking fellow +with a very hot and red face and chubby cheeks followed the couple that +had disappeared noisily shouting hallo, and the slender rascal who came +last laughed so knowingly and slyly. + +"Paul, Paul!" Kate wanted to call out, "Paul, just look, look!" But +then she did not call, and did not move. There was nothing +more to be done. She leant back in her corner of the carriage quite +silent: she had wanted the boy, she must not complain. Oh, if only she +had left him where he was. Now she must be silent, close both her eyes +firmly and pretend she had not seen anything. + +But everything was spoilt for her. And when her husband pointed out +the moon swimming in the light grey ether in an opening between the +tops of two pines, and the bright, quietly gleaming star to the right +of it, she had only an indifferent "Oh yes," in answer to his +delighted: "Isn't that beautiful?" + +That depressed him. She had taken such pleasure in nature formerly, +the greatest, purest pleasure--now she no longer did so. Was that over +too? Everything was over. He sighed. + +And both remained silent, each leaning in a corner of the carriage. +They gazed into the twilight that was growing deeper and deeper with +sad eyes. Evening was coming on, the day--their day too--was over. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Wolfgang had gone on an excursion into the country, with Frida +Laemke, her brother, and Hans Flebbe, which had been planned a long +time. Frida was not going back to business that afternoon; she had +succeeded in getting away as an exception, and because she pleaded an +extremely urgent reason for her absence. And now she was almost beside +herself with glee: oh, how splendid it was, oh, what a fine time they +would have. Wolfgang had gone to the expense of taking a cab; he and +Frida sat on the front seat, the two others opposite them on the back +seat, and they had driven round the green, green wood, had paid a visit +to this and that place of amusement, had gone on a roundabout and in +a boat and into the booth where they were playing with dice. Wolfgang +was very polite, Frida always got leave to throw them again and +again; a butter dish of blue glass, a glazed paper-bag full of +gingerbread nuts, but above all a little dicky-bird in a tiny wooden +cage made her extremely happy. Hans was allowed to carry it all, whilst +she and Wolfgang rushed along on the walk home from Schildhorn, +chaffing each other. Her sweetheart did not disturb them. Hans had +foregone the pleasure of having his Frida on his arm from the +commencement; everybody might easily have thought the well-dressed +young gentleman was her lover. But when she lost her breath entirely +and was red and dishevelled, and the dusk, which came on somewhat +earlier in the wood among the trees that stood so close together, made +her shudder a little and filled her with a delicious fear, she hung on +her Hans's arm as a matter of course. They remained a little behind the +others. + +Then Wolfgang was alone, for he did not count Artur, although he +walked beside him stumbling over the roots and whistling shrilly. And +Wolfgang envied fat Hans at whom they had all laughed so much, the girl +he was engaged to more than anyone else. He also wanted to have a girl +hanging on his arm. It need not even be such a nice-looking girl as +Frida--as long as it was a girl. The dusk of the wood, which was so +nice and quiet, seemed positively to hold out inviting arms to him. And +a smell of satiation, an abundant fulfilment, rose out of the earth +that evening, although it was so poor--nothing but sand. Wolfgang felt +a wish to live and love, an eager desire for pleasure and enjoyment. If +he had had Frida near him now, he would have seized hold of her, have +clasped her in his arms, have quickly closed her mouth with kisses and +not let her go again. + +He could not contain himself any longer, he had to seize hold of +Artur, at any rate, and waltz with him along the sandy path +through the wood, so that the lanky youth, who had already run to so +many customers to shave them that day, could neither see nor hear. All +the other people stopped; such sights were nothing new to them on +excursions, not to speak of worse. It amused them, and, when Wolfgang +lifted his partner high up into the air with a loud shout of triumph +and swung him several times round his head, they clapped their +hands. + +Wolfgang was very much out of breath by this time. When they got out +of the wood they had to proceed more slowly; they might have trodden +some of the people to death in the more inhabited parts, for the fine +villas were already commencing. What a crowd! People were pushing and +squeezing each other at the place where the electric cars started. +Wolfgang and Artur posted themselves there too: what a joke it was to +see how the people who wanted to go by them elbowed each other. It was +still pretty light and as warm as summer, but it would soon be quite +dark, and the later it was the larger the crowd would be. The two stood +there laughing, looking quietly on at the throng. What did it matter to +them if they did not get a seat? They could run that short bit to their +homes. + +Wolfgang felt how his heart thumped against his side--it had been +great fun to dance with Frida. He had swung her round several times in +the booth adjoining a restaurant, in which a man sat strumming on a +piano, and had done the same to a couple of other girls, who had looked +longingly at the boisterous dancer. What a pleasure it had been. He +still felt the effects of it, his chest rose and fell tumultuously--oh, +what a pleasure it was to swing a girl round in his arm like that. +Wonderful! Everything was wonderful. + +Wolfgang trembled inwardly with untamed animal spirits, and +clenched his teeth so as not to draw people's attention to him by means +of a loud, triumphant shout. Oh, how splendid it would be, oh, how he +would love to do something foolish now. He thought it over: what on +earth could he do? + +At that moment a cough disturbed him. How hollow it sounded--as if +everything inside were loose. The young fellow who was standing behind +his broad back might have been coughing like that for some time--only +he had not noticed it; now he felt disgusted at his spitting. He +stepped aside involuntarily: faugh, how the man coughed! + +"Oh, how wretched it is that there isn't a cab to be had!" Wolfgang +now heard the older man say, on whose arm the young fellow who was +coughing was leaning. "Are you quite knocked up? Can you still stand +it?" There was such an anxiety expressed in that: "Can you still stand +it?" + +"Oh, pretty well," the young fellow answered in a hoarse voice. +Wolfgang pricked up his ears: he surely knew that voice? And now he +also recognised the face. Wasn't that Kullrich? Good gracious, how he +had changed. He raised his hat involuntarily: "Good evening, +Kullrich." + +And now the latter also recognised him. "Schlieben!" Kullrich +smiled, so that all his teeth, which were long and white, could be seen +behind his bloodless lips. And then he held out his hand to his former +schoolfellow: "You aren't at school either? I've left as well. It's a +long time since we've seen each other." + +The hand Wolfgang held had a disagreeable, moist, cold feeling, and +a shudder passed through him. He had forgotten long ago that he had +once heard that Kullrich had consumption; all at once he remembered it +again. But that was quite impossible, surely you could not die +so young? Everything in him strove against the conviction. + +"Have you been ill?" he asked quickly. "But now you're all right +again, aren't you?" It was quite difficult for him to remember that he +was speaking to his old schoolfellow; this Kullrich was quite a +stranger to him. + +"Oh yes, pretty fair," said Kullrich, smiling once more. Quite a +peculiar smile, which even struck the careless youth. Kullrich had +never been nice-looking, he had a lump at the end of his nose; but now +Wolfgang could not take his eyes off him. How much more refined his +face had grown and so--he could not contain himself any longer, all at +once he blurted it out: "How different you look now. I hardly +recognised you." + +"My son is soon going away," his father said quickly, drawing his +son's arm more closely through his own as he spoke. "Then I hope he +will come back quite well. But he has tried to do too much to-day. The +weather was so fine--plenty of fresh air and the smell of the pines, +the doctor said--but we have remained out too long. It won't do you any +harm, I trust?" There was again such a terrible anxiety expressed in +his voice. "Are you cold? Would you not like to sit down until we can +start?" The father put a camp-stool, which he had carried under his +arm, on the ground, and opened it: "Sit down a little, Fritz." + +Poor fellow! The father's voice, which trembled with such loving +anxiety, touched Wolfgang strangely. Poor fellow, he really must be +very ill. How terrible! He was overcome with dread, and stepped back +involuntarily for fear the sick boy's breath should reach him. He was +full of the egotism of youth and health; how unfortunate he should meet +him there to-day, just to-day. + +"May I get you a carriage?" he inquired hastily--only +let Kullrich get away, it was too awful to have to listen to that +cough--"I'm acquainted with this neighbourhood; I shall be able to get +one." + +"Oh yes, oh yes, a cab, a closed one if possible," said Kullrich's +father, drawing a deep breath as though relieved of a great anxiety. +"We shall not possibly be able to go by train. And it's getting so +late. Are you really not cold, Fritz?" A cool wind had suddenly risen, +and the old man took off his overcoat and hung it round his son's +shoulders. + +How awful it must be for him to see his son like that, thought +Wolfgang. To die, to die at all, how terrible. And how the man loved +his son. You could hear that in his voice, see it in his looks. + +Wolfgang was pleased to be able to run about for a cab. It was +difficult to get one now, and he ran about until he was quite out of +breath. At last he got one. When he reached the place where the +electric cars started, Herr Kullrich was in great despair. He had given +up all hope and his son had coughed a good deal. + +He did not know what to say, he was so grateful. The unpretentious +man--he was a subordinate official in one of the government offices and +probably could not afford it--promised the driver a good tip if he +would only drive them quickly to their home in Berlin. He enveloped his +son in the rug that lay on the back seat; the driver also gave them a +horse-cloth, and Wolfgang wrapped it round his schoolfellow's legs. + +"Thanks, thanks," said Fritz Kullrich faintly; he was quite knocked +up now. + +"Come and see us some time, Herr Schlieben," said the father, +pressing his hand. "Fritz would be pleased. And I am so grateful to you +for helping us." + +"But come soon," said the son, smiling again in that peculiar +manner. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye." Wolfgang stood staring after the carriage as it +disappeared quickly; there drove Kullrich--after his mother. + +Wolfgang's good spirits had flown. When his companions with whom he +had spent the afternoon sought him with loud hallos--Hans must have +given his Frida many hearty kisses, her hat was awry, her eyes gleamed +amorously--he got rid of them without delay. He said good-bye to them +quickly and went on alone. Death had touched his elbow. And one of the +old songs he had sung with Cilia, the girl from his childhood, suddenly +darted through his mind. Now he understood its deeper meaning for the +first time: + + Art thou now with fair cheeks prancing, + Cheeks milk-white, through rose-light glancing? + Roses wither soon, alas! + +He went home at once, he had no wish to loaf about out of doors +any longer. And as he sauntered along with unsteady gait down +out-of-the-way roads, something rose up before him in the dusk of the +autumn evening and placed itself in his path--it was a question: + +"And you? Where are you going?" + +He entered his parents' house in a mood that was strangely soft and +conciliatory. But when he stepped into the room, his parents were +sitting there as though to pass sentence on him. + +Kate had not been able to keep it to herself after all, it had +weighed on her mind, she had to tell somebody what she had seen. And it +had irritated her husband more than his wife had expected. So the boy +had got into such company! + +"Where have you been wandering about?" he said to his son +angrily. + +The boy stopped short: why that voice? It was not so late. +He raised his head with the feeling that they were treating him +unjustly. + +"Don't look at me so impudently." His father lost control of +himself. "Where is that woman you were wandering about with?" + +Wandering about--woman? The hot blood surged to the boy's head. +Frida Laemke a woman--how mad. "She isn't a woman," he flared up. And +then: "I haven't been wandering about." + +"Come, come, I've----" the man broke off quickly; he could not say: +"I've seen you"--so he said: "We've seen you." + +Wolfgang got very red. Oh!--they had spied on him--no doubt +to-day--had crept after him? He was not even safe from their prying +looks so far away. He was furious. "How can you say 'that woman.' She +isn't a woman." + +"Well--what is she then, may I ask?" + +"My friend." + +"Your friend?" His father gave a short angry laugh. "Friend--very +well, but it's rather early for you to have such a friend. I forbid you +to have friends of such doubtful, such more than doubtful +character." + +"She isn't doubtful." Wolfgang's eyes sparkled. How right Frau Laemke +was when she said the other day to him when he went to see them again: +"Although I'm very pleased to see you, don't come too often, Wolfgang. +Frida is only a poor girl, and such a one gets talked about at +once." + +No, there was nothing doubtful about her. The son looked his father +full in the face, pale with fury. "She's as respectable a girl as any. +How can you speak of her like that? How d----" He faltered, he was in +such a fury that his voice failed. + +"Dare--only say it straight out, dare." The man had more +control over himself now, he had become quieter, for what he saw in his +boy's face seemed to him to be honest indignation. No, he was not quite +ruined yet, he had only been led astray, such women prefer to hang on +to quite young people. And he said persuasively, meaning well: "Get +away from the whole thing as quickly as possible. You'll save yourself +much unpleasantness. I'll help you with it." + +"Thanks." The young fellow stuck his hands into his trouser pockets +and stood there with an arrogant expression on his face. + +His soft mood had disappeared long ago, it had flown as soon as he +took the first step into the room; now he was in the mood not to stand +anything whatever. They had insulted Frida. + +"Where does she live?" his father asked. + +"You would like to know that, I daresay." His son laughed +scornfully; it gave him a certain satisfaction to withhold her address, +they were so curious. They should never find it out. It was not at all +necessary to tell them. He threw his head back insolently, and did not +answer. + +O God, what had happened to the boy! Kate stared at him quite +terrified. He had changed completely, had become quite a different +being. But then came the memory--she had loved him so much once--and +the pain of knowing that she had lost him entirely and for ever. +"Wolfgang, don't be like that, I beseech you. You know we have your +welfare at heart, Wolfgang." + +He measured her with an inexplicable look. And then he looked past +her into space. + +"It would be better if I were out of it all!" he jerked out +suddenly, spontaneously. It was meant to sound defiant, but the +defiance was swallowed up in the sudden recognition of a painful +truth. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +They had agreed that Wolfgang should not live at the villa with them +any longer. True, he was still very young, but the time for +independence had come, his parents realised. Two prettily furnished +rooms were taken in the neighbourhood of the office--Wolfgang was to +take a much more active part in the business now--otherwise he would be +left to himself. This coming home so late at night, this responsible +control--no, it would not do for Kate to worry herself to death. Paul +Schlieben had taken this step resignedly. + +And it seemed as though the days at the Schliebens' villa were +really to be quieter, more peaceful. It was winter, and the snow was +such a soft protecting cover for many a buried hope. + +Wolfgang used to come and visit them, but not too often; besides, he +saw his father every day at the office. It never seemed to enter his +head that his mother would have liked to see him more frequently. She +did not let him perceive it. Was she perhaps to beg him to come more +frequently? No, she had already begged much too much--for many years, +almost eighteen years--and she told herself bitterly that it had been +lost labour. + +When he came to them, they were on quite friendly terms with each +other; his mother still continued to see that his clothes were the best +that could be bought, his shirts as well got up as they could +be, and that he had fine cambric night shirts and high collars. That he +frequently did not look as he ought to have done was not her fault; nor +was it perhaps the fault of his clothes, but rather on account of his +tired expression, his weary eyes and the indifferent way in which he +carried himself. He let himself go, he looked dissipated. + +But the husband and wife did not speak about it to each other. If he +could only serve his time as a soldier, thought Paul Schlieben to +himself. He hoped the restraint and the severe regulations in force in +the army would regulate his whole life; what they, his parents, had not +been able to effect with all their care, the drill would be able to do. +Wolfgang was to appear before the commissioners in April. At present, +during the winter, he certainly kept to the office hours more regularly +and more conscientiously, but oh, how wretched he often looked in the +morning. Terribly pale, positively ashen. "Dissipation." The father +settled that with a shake of his head, but he said nothing to his son +about it; why should he? An unpleasant scene would be the only result, +which would not lead to anything, and would probably do more harm. For +they no longer met on common ground. + +And thus things went on without any special disturbance, but all +three suffered nevertheless; the son too. + +Frida thought she noticed that Wolfgang was often depressed. +Sometimes he went to the theatre with her, she was so fond of +"something to laugh at." But he did not join in her laughter, did not +even laugh when the tears rolled down her cheeks with laughing. She +could really get very vexed that lie had so little sense of what was +amusing. + +"Aren't you enjoying yourself?" + +"Hm, moderately." + +"Are you ill?" she asked, quite frightened. + +"No." + +"Well, what's the matter with you then?" + +Then he shrugged his shoulders and looked so forbidding that she did +not question him any more, but only pressed his hand and assured him +she was amusing herself splendidly. + +Gradually these invitations to the theatre, which had mostly ended +so pleasantly in a little intimate talk in some cafe or other, ceased. +Frida saw her friend very rarely at all now; he no longer fetched her +from business, and did not turn up at her home. + +"Who knows?" said Frau Laemke, "perhaps he'll soon get engaged. He +has probably somebody in his mind's eye." + +Frida pouted. She was put out that Wolfgang never came. What could +be the matter with him? She commenced to spy on him; but not only out +of curiosity. + +And somebody else made inquiries about his doings too--that was his +mother. At least, she tried to find out what he was doing. But she only +discovered that he had once been seen in a small theatre with a pretty +person, a blonde, whose hair was done in a very conspicuous manner. Oh, +that was the one at Schildhorn. She still saw that fair hair gleam in +the dusk--that was the one who was doing all the mischief. + +The mother made inquiries about her son's doings with a sagacity +that would have done credit to a policeman. Had her husband had any +idea of how often--at any time of the day or evening--his wife wandered +round the house where Wolfgang had his rooms, he would have opposed it +most strenuously. Her burning desire to hear from Wolfgang, to know +something about him, made Kate forget her own dignity. When she knew he +was absent she had gone up to his rooms more than once, +nominally to bring him this or that; but when she found herself alone +there--she knew how to get rid of his garrulous landlady--she would +rush about in both his rooms inspecting everything, would examine the +things on his writing-table, even turn over every bit of paper. She was +never conscious of what she was doing as long as she was there, but on +going down the stairs again she felt how she had humiliated herself; +she turned scarlet and felt demeaned in her own eyes, and promised +herself faithfully never, never to do it again. And still she did it +again. It was torture to her, and yet she could not leave it off. + +It was a cold day in winter--already evening, not late according to +Berlin notions, but still time for closing the shops, and the theatres +and concerts had commenced long ago--and Kate was still sitting in her +son's rooms. He had not been to the villa to see her for a week--why +not? A great anxiety had suddenly taken possession of her that day, she +had felt obliged to go to him. Her husband imagined she had gone to see +one of Hauptmann's pieces played for the first time--and she could +also go there later on, for surely Wolfgang must soon come home now. In +answer to her letter of inquiry he had written that he had a cold, and +stopped at home in the evenings. Well, she certainly did not want him +to come out to her and catch fresh cold, but it was surely natural that +she should go to see him. She made excuses to herself. + +And so she waited and waited. The time passed very slowly. She had +come towards seven o'clock, now it was already nine. She had carefully +inspected both rooms a good many times, had stood at the window looking +down absently at the throng in the streets, had sat down, got up and +sat down again. Now she walked up and down restlessly, anxiously. The +landlady had already come in several times and found something +to do; her inquisitive scrutinising glances would have annoyed Kate at +any other time, but now she took no notice of them. She could not make +up her mind to go yet--if he were ill why did he not come home? Her +anxiety increased. Something weighed on her mind like a premonition of +coming evil. She would really have to ask the landlady now--it was +already ten o'clock--if he always came home so late in spite of his +cold. She rang for the woman. + +She came, inwardly much annoyed. Why had Frau Schlieben not confided +in her long ago? Hm, she would have to wait now, the stuck-up +person. + +"I suppose my son always comes home late?" Kate inquired. Her voice +sounded quite calm, she must not let such a woman notice how anxious +she really was. + +"Hm," said the landlady, "sometimes he does, sometimes he +doesn't." + +"I'm only surprised that he conies so late as he has a cold." + +"Oh, has the young gentleman a cold?" + +What, the woman with whom Wolfgang had lived almost three months +knew so little about him? And she had promised to take such exceedingly +good care of him. "You must give him a hot bottle at night. This room +is cold." Kate shivered and rubbed her hands. "And bring him a glass of +hot milk with some Ems salts in it before he gets up." + +The landlady heard the reproach in her voice at once, although +nothing further was said, and became still more annoyed. "Hm, if he +doesn't come home at all, I can't give him a hot bottle at night or hot +milk in the morning." + +"What--does not come home at all?" Kate thought she could +not have understood aright. She stared at the woman. "Does not come +home at all?" + +The woman nodded: "I can tell you, ma'am, it's no joke letting +furnished rooms, you have to put up with a good deal. Such a young +gentleman--oh my!" She laughed half-angrily, half-amused. "I once had +one who remained away eight days--it was about the first of the month. +I was terrified about my rent--I had to go to the police." + +"Where was he then? Where was he then?" Kate's voice quivered. + +The woman laughed. "Well, then he turned up again." She saw the +mother's terror, and her good-nature gained the victory over her +malice. "He'll be sure to come again, ma'am," she said consolingly. +"They all come again. Don't fear. And Herr Schlieben has only been two +days away as yet." + +Two days away--two days? It was two days since he had written, in +reply to her letter, that he had a cold and must remain at home. Kate +gazed around her as though she had lost her senses, her eyes looked +quite dazed. Where had he been the whole of those two days? Not there +and not at home--oh, he had not been to see her for a whole week. But +he must have been at the office or Paul would have mentioned it. But +where was he all the rest of the time? That was only a couple of hours. +And a day is long. And the nights, the nights! Good God, the nights, +where was he during the nights? + +Kate would have liked to have screamed aloud, but the landlady was +watching her with such inquisitive eyes, that she pressed the nails of +one hand into the palm of the other and controlled herself. But her +voice was nothing but a whisper now: "Hasn't he been here at all for +the last two days?" + +"No, not at all. But wait a moment." Her love of a gossip +was stronger than the reserve she had meant to show. Drawing near to +the lady who had sunk down in a chair, and dragging a chair forward for +herself, she began to chatter to her, giving her all the details: "It +was Sunday--no, Saturday that I began to notice there was something the +matter with him. Ay, he's one of the dashing sort. He was quite +mad." + +"What do you mean? 'Mad' do you say?" + +The landlady laughed. "Oh, I don't mean in that way at all, you +mustn't take it so literally, ma'am. Well, he was--well, what am I to +call it?--well, as they all are. Well, and in the evening he went away +as usual--well, and then he did not come back again." + +"And how--how was he?" The mother could only get the words out in +jerks, she could no longer speak connectedly, a sudden terror had +overwhelmed her, almost paralysing her tongue. "Did he--seem strange?" +As in a vision his livid face and the place in the sand near +Schildhorn, where the wind was always blowing, appeared before her many +a mother's son, many a mother's son--O God, O God, if he had made away +with himself! She trembled as the leaves do in a storm, and broke down +altogether. + +The landlady guessed the mother's thoughts instinctively, and she +assured her in a calm good-natured voice: "No, don't imagine that +for a moment. He wasn't sad--and not exactly happy either--well, +like--like--well, just in the right mood." + +"And--oh, could you not give me a--a hint of--where--where he might +be?" + +The woman shook her head doubtfully. "Who could know that? You see, +ma'am, there are so many temptations. But wait a moment." She shut her +eyes tightly and pondered. "Some time ago such a pretty girl used to +come here, she used to fetch him to go to the theatre, she +said--well, it may have been true. She often came, very often--once a +week at least. She was fair, really a pretty girl." + +"Fair--quite light-coloured hair--a good deal of it and waved over +the ears?" + +"Yes, yes, it was done like that, combed over the ears, a large knot +behind you could not help noticing it, it was so fair. And they were on +very friendly terms with each other." + +Fair hair--extremely fair. Ah, she had known it at once when she saw +him at Schildhorn with that fair-haired girl. Everything seemed to be +clear to her now. "You--do not know, I suppose--oh, do you happen to +know her name?" + +"He called her Frida." + +"Frida?" + +"Yes, Frida. I know that for certain. But she does not come here any +more now. But perhaps he's got a letter from her. I'll look, just you +wait." And the woman bent down, drew out the paper-basket from under +the writing-table and began to rummage in it. + +"He throws everything into the paper-basket, you see," she said in +an explanatory tone of voice. + +She had certainly never sought there. Kate looked on with staring +eyes, whilst the woman turned over every scrap of paper with practised +ringers. All at once she cried out: "There, we've got it." And she +placed some bits of paper triumphantly on the table. "Here's a letter +from her. Do you see? I know the writing. Now we'll see." + +Laying their heads together the two women tried to piece together +the separate bits of the letter that had been torn up. But they were +not successful, too much was wanting, they could only put a very few +sentences together: + + "not come any more-- + "angry with me-- + "soon come to you some evening-- + "always your" + +But wait, here was the signature. That had not been torn, here it +stood large and connected at the bottom of the sheet of paper: + + "always your" + "FRIDA LAEMKE." + +"Frida Laemke?" Kate gave a loud cry of surprise. Frida Laemke--no, +she had never thought that--or were there perhaps two of the same name? +That fair-haired child that used to play in the garden in former years? +Why yes, yes, she had always had bold eyes. + +"You know her, I suppose?" asked the landlady, her eyes gleaming +with curiosity. + +Kate did not answer. She stared at the carpet in deep thought. Was +this worse--or was it not so bad? Could it not still be hindered now +that she was on the track, or was everything lost? She did not know; +her head was no longer clear enough for her to consider the matter from +a sensible point of view, she could not even think any more. She only +had the feeling that she must go to the Laemkes. Only go there, go there +as quickly as possible. Jumping up she said hastily: "That's all right, +quite all right--thanks. Oh, it's all right." And hastening past the +disconcerted woman she hurried to the door and down the stairs. +Somebody happened to unlock the door from outside at that moment; thus +she got out. + +Now she was in the street. She had never stood in Friedrichstrasse +so quite alone at that time of night before; her husband had always +accompanied her, and if she happened to go to the theatre or a concert +alone for once in a way, he had always fetched her himself or +made Friedrich fetch her, at any rate. All at once she was seized with +something that resembled fear, although the beautiful street was as +light as day. + +Such a quantity of men, such a quantity of women. They flowed past +her like a stream, and she was carried with them. Figures surged round +her like waves--rustling dresses that smelt strongly of scent, and +gentlemen, men, young and old, old men and youths, some of whom were +hardly more than boys. It was like a corso there--what were they all +seeking? So this was Berlin's much-talked-of and amusing life at night? +It was awful, oh, unspeakably horrible. + +Suddenly Kate saw everything from one point of view only. Hitherto +she had been blind, as unsuspicious as a child. A policeman's helmet +came into sight. She flew away as though somebody were in pursuit of +her: the man could not see that she had grey hairs and that she was a +lady. Perhaps he, too, looked upon her as one of those. Let her only +get away, away. + +She threw herself into a cab, she fell rather than got into it. She +gave the driver her address in a trembling voice. A burning longing +came over her all at once: home, only home. Home to her clean, +well-regulated house, to those walls that surrounded her like a +shelter. No, he must not come into her clean house any more, not carry +his filth into those rooms. + +She drove the whole way huddled up in a corner, her trembling +eyelids closed convulsively; the road seemed endless to her to-day. How +slowly the cab drove. Oh, what would Paul say? He would be getting +anxious, she was so late. + +All at once Kate longed to fly to her husband's arms and find +shelter on his breast. She had quite forgotten she had wanted to go to +the Laemkes straight away. Besides, how could she? It was +almost midnight, and who knows, perhaps she would only find a mother +there, who was just as unhappy as she? Lost children--alas, one does +not know which is more terrible, a lost son or a lost daughter! + +Kate cried bitterly. But when the tears stole from under her closed +lids and ran down her cheeks, she became calmer. Now that she no longer +saw the long procession in the street, did not see what went on there +every night, her fear disappeared. Her courage rose again; and as it +rose the knowledge came to her, that she was only a weak and timid +woman, but he a robust youth, who was to be a man, a strong swimmer. +There was no need to lose all hope yet. + +By the time the first pines in the quiet colony glided past to the +right and left of her and the moonshine showed pure white on their +branches, Kate had made up her mind. She would go to the Laemkes next +day and speak to the mother, and she would not say anything to her +husband about it beforehand. The same fear that now so often made her +mute in his presence took possession of her once more: he would never +feel as she felt. He would perhaps seize the boy with a rough hand, and +that must not be. She was still there, and it was her duty to help the +stumbling lad with gentle hand. + +Kate went up to her husband quite quietly, so calmly that he did not +notice anything. But when she took the road to the Laemkes next day, her +heart trembled and beat as spasmodically as it had done before. She had +fought against her fear and faint-heartedness the whole morning; now it +was almost noon on that account, Paul had told her at breakfast that +Wolfgang had not been to the office the day before and only for quite a +short time the preceding day. "I don't know what's the matter with the +boy," he had said. "I'm really too angry with him. But I +suppose we ought to find out what's happened to him." "I'll do so," she +had answered. + +Her feet hardly carried her as she slowly crept along, but at last +she almost ran: he had been her child for many, many years, and she +shared the responsibility. She no longer asked herself how she was to +begin the conversation with Frau Laemke, she hoped the right word would +be given her when the time came. + +So she groped her way down the dark steps to the cellar where the +Laemkes lived, knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for an +answer. + +Frau Laemke was just washing the floor, the brush fell from her hand +and she quickly let down the dress that she had turned up: Frau +Schlieben? What did she want at her house? The pale woman with the +innocent-looking face that had grown so thin gazed at the lady with the +utmost astonishment. + +"How do you do, Frau Laemke," said Kate, in quite a friendly voice. +"Is your daughter Frida at home? I want to speak to her." + +"No, Frida isn't at home." The woman looked still more perturbed: +what did the lady want with Frida? She had never troubled about her +before. "Frida is at business." + +"Is she? Do you know that for certain?" + +There was something offensive in her way of questioning, but Frau +Laemke did not notice anything in her innocence. "Frida is never back +from business at this time of day, but she is due in less than half an +hour. She has two hours off at dinner-time; in the evening she does not +come in until about ten, as they only close at nine. But if you would +like her to come to you after her dinner"--Frau Laemke was very curious, +what could she want with Frida?--"she'll be pleased to do so." + +"She'll be here in half an hour, you say?" + +"Yes, certainly. She's always in a hurry to come home to her +mother--and she's always hungry too." + +"I will wait for her if I may," said Kate. + +"Please sit down." Frau Laemke hastily wiped a chair with her apron: +after all, it was an honour that Wolfgang's mother came to see Frida in +the cellar. And in a voice full of cordial sympathy she said: "How is +the young gentleman? if I may ask. Is he quite well?" + +Kate did not answer her: that was really too great an impertinence, +quite an unheard-of impertinence. How could she ask so boldly? But all +at once she was filled with doubt: did she know anything about it? She +looked into her innocent eyes. This woman had probably been deceived as +she had been. She had not the heart to explain matters--poor mother! So +she only nodded and said evasively: "Quite well, thanks." + +They were silent, both feeling a certain embarrassment. Frau Laemke +peeled the potatoes for dinner and put them on, now and then casting a +furtive look at the lady who sat waiting. Kate was pale and tried to +hide her yawns; her agitation had been followed by a feeling of great +exhaustion. For was she not waiting in vain? And this mother would also +wait in vain to-day. The girl, that hypocrite, was not coming. Kate was +seized with something akin to fury when she thought of the girl's +fair hair. That was what had led her boy astray, that had bewitched +him--perhaps he could not throw her off now. "Always your--your Frida +Laemke"--she had sulked in that letter, he had probably wanted to draw +back but--"if you don't come I shall come to you,"--oh, she would no +doubt take care not to let him go, she held him fast. + +Kate did not believe that Frida Laemke would come home. It +was getting on for two o'clock. Her mother had lied, perhaps she was +acting in concert with the girl all the time. + +But now Kate gave a start, a step was heard on the cellar steps, and +on hearing it her mother said, delighted: "That's Frida." + +Someone hummed a tune outside--then the door opened. + +Frida Laemke was wearing a dark fur toque on her fair hair now, +instead of the little sailor hat; it was imitation fur, but two pigeon +wings were stuck in on one side, and the hat suited her pert little +face well. + +Kate was standing in the greatest agitation; she had jumped up and +was looking at the girl with burning eyes. So she had really come. She +was there but Wolfgang, where was he? She quite shouted at the girl as +she said: "Do you know where my son is--Wolfgang--Wolfgang +Schlieben?" + +Frida's rosy face turned white in her surprise. She wanted to say +something, stammered, hesitated, bit her lips and got scarlet. "How +should I know? I don't know." + +"You know very well. Don't tell a lie." Kate seized hold of Frida +violently by both her slender arms. She would have liked to catch hold +of her fair hair and scream aloud whilst tearing it out: "My boy! Give +me back my boy!" But she had not the strength to go on shaking her +until she had forced her to confess. + +Frida's blue eyes looked at her quite openly, quite frankly, even if +there seemed to be a slight anxiety in her glance. "I've not seen him +for a long time, ma'am," she said honestly. And then her voice grew +softer and there was a certain anxiety in it: "He used to come here +formerly, but he never does now--does he, mother?" + +Frau Laemke shook her head: "No, never." She did not feel at all at +her ease, everything seemed so strange to her: Frau Schlieben in their +cellar, and what did she want with Frida? Something had happened, there +was something wrong. But whatever it was her Frida was innocent, Frau +Schlieben must know that. And so she took courage: "If you think that +my Frida has anything to do with it, ma'am, you're very much mistaken. +My Frida has walked out a long time with Flebbe--Hans Flebbe, the +coachman's son, he's a grocer--and besides, Frida is a respectable +girl. What are you thinking about my daughter? But it's always like +that, a girl of our class cannot be respectable, oh no!" The insulted +mother got quite aggressive now. "My Frida was a very good friend of +your Wolfgang, and I am also quite fond of him when I felt so wretched +last summer he sent me fifty marks that I might go to Fangschleuse for +three weeks and get better--but let him try to come here again now, +I'll turn him out, the rascal!" Her pale face grew hot and red in her +vague fear that something might be said against her Frida. + +Frida rushed up to her and threw her arm round her shoulders: "Oh, +don't get angry, mother. You're not to excite yourself, or you'll get +that pain in your stomach again." + +Frida became quite energetic now. With her arm still round her +mother's shoulders she turned her fair head to Kate: "You'll have to go +somewhere else, ma'am, I can't tell you anything about your son. Mother +and I were speaking quite lately about his never coming here now. And I +wrote him a note the other day, telling him to come and see us--because +I had not seen him for ever so long, and--and--well, because he always +liked to be with me. But he hasn't answered it. I've certainly +not done anything to him. But he has changed greatly." She put on a +knowing look: "I think it would be better if he still lived at home, +ma'am." + +Kate stared at her. What did she suspect? What did she know? Did she +really know anything? Doubts rose in her mind, and then came the +certainty: this girl was innocent, otherwise she would not have been +able to speak like that. Even the most artful person could not look so +ingenuous. And she had also confessed quite of her own accord that she +had lately written to Wolfgang--no, this girl was not so bad, it +must be another one with fair hair. But where was she to look for +her?--where find Wolfgang? + +And holding out both her hands to the girl as though she were +begging her pardon, she said in a voice full of misery: "But don't you +know anything? Have you no idea whatever where he might be? It was two +days yesterday since he went away--since he disappeared--disappeared +entirely, his landlady does not know where." + +"Disappeared entirely--two days ago?" Frida opened her eyes +wide. + +"Yes, I've just told you so. That's why I am asking you. He has +disappeared, quite disappeared." + +A furious impatience took possession of his mother and at the same +time the full understanding of her painful position. She put her hands +before her face and groaned aloud. + +Frau Laemke and her daughter exchanged glances full of compassion. +Frida turned pale, then red, it seemed as if she were about to say +something, but she kept silent nevertheless. + +"But he's not bad, no, he's not bad," whispered Frau Laemke. + +"Who says that he's bad?" Kate started up, letting her hands fall +from before her face. All the misery she had endured during +those long years and the hopelessness of it all lay in her voice as she +added: "He's been led astray, he has gone astray--he's lost, lost!" + +Frida wept aloud. "Oh, don't say that," she cried. "He'll come back +again, he's sure to come back. If only I--" she hesitated and frowned +as she pondered--"knew for certain." + +"Help me! Oh, can't you help me?" + +Frau Laemke clasped her hands when she heard the poor woman's cry of +"Help me!" and trembled with excitement: how terrible if a mother has +to live to see her child do such things, the child she has brought into +the world with such pain. Forgetting the respect with which she always +regarded Kate she tottered up to her and grasped her cold hand as it +hung at her side: "Oh dear, oh dear, I am so grieved, so terribly +grieved. But calm yourself. You know a mother has still such power, +quite special power, her child never forgets her quite." And she smiled +with a certain security. + +"But he isn't my son--not my own son--I'm not his real mother." Kate +confessed now what she had never confessed before. Her fear dragged it +out of her and the hope that the woman would say: "He won't forget such +a mother either, certainly not." + +But Frau Laemke did not say it. There was doubt written on her face +and she shook her head. She had not thought of her not being Wolfgang's +real mother at that moment. + +There was a troubled silence in the room. All that could be heard +was a sound of heavy breathing, until at last Frida broke the +paralysing stillness in her clear voice. "Have you been to see the +landlady to-day?" she asked. Kate shook her head in silence. "Well +then, ma'am, you say it was two days ago yesterday, then he +may have come back to-day. We shall have to make inquiries. Shall I run +there quickly?" + +And she was already at the door, and did not hear her mother call +after her: "Frida, Frida, you must eat a mouthful first, you haven't +eaten any dinner yet," but ran up the cellar steps in her good-natured +haste and compassionate sympathy. + +Kate ran after her. + +But they got no further news in Friedrichstrasse. There were fires +in the rooms, they had been dusted, the breakfast table had even been +laid as if the young gentleman was expected to come any moment--the +landlady hoped to receive special praise for her thoughtfulness--but +the young gentleman had not returned. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Kate Schlieben was ill in bed. The doctor shrugged his shoulders: there +was not much to be done, it was a question of complete apathy. If only +something would happen that would rouse her, something for which it +would repay her to make an effort, she would be all right again. At +present he prescribed strengthening food--her pulse was so bad--every +hour a spoonful of puro, essence of beef, eggs, milk, oysters and such +like. + +Paul Schlieben was sitting near his wife's bed; he had just come +home from town. He was sitting there with bent head and knit brows. + +"Still nothing about him? What did the woman say--nothing at all +about him?" Kate had just whispered in a feeble voice. + +His only answer was: "We shall have to communicate with the police +after all now." + +"No, no, not with the police. Should we have him sought as though he +were a criminal? You're terrible, Paul. Be quiet, Paul." Her +voice that had been so feeble at first had almost become a scream. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "There's nothing left for us to do but +that," and he looked at her anxiously and then lowered his head. + +It seemed to him as though he could not realise the calamity that +had overtaken him, as though it were too great. It was now a week since +Wolfgang had gone away--the misery that fellow had brought on them was +terrible, terrible. But his wife's condition made him still more +uneasy. How would it end? Her increased nervousness was dangerous; and +then there was her complete loss of strength. Kate had never been a +robust woman, but now she was getting so thin, so very thin; the hand +that lay so languidly on the coverlet had become quite transparent +during the last week. Oh, and her hair so grey. + +The man sought for the traces of former beauty in his wife's face +with sad eyes: too many wrinkles, too many lines graven on it, furrows +that the plough of grief had made there. He had to weep; it seemed too +hard to see her like that. Turning his head aside he shaded his eyes +with his hand. + +He sat thus in silence without moving, and she did not move either, +but lay as though asleep. + +Then somebody knocked. The man glanced at his wife in dismay: had it +disturbed her? But she did not raise her eyelids. + +He went to the door on tip-toe and opened it. Friedrich brought the +post, all sorts of letters and papers. Paul only held out his hand to +take them from habit, he took so little interest in anything now. +During the first days after Wolfgang's disappearance Kate had always +trembled for fear there should be something about him in the newspaper, +she had been tortured by the most terrible fears; now she no +longer asked. But it was the man's turn to tremble, although he tried +to harden himself: what would they still have to bear? He never took up +a paper without a certain dread. + +"Don't rustle the paper so horribly, I can't bear it," said the +feeble woman irritably. Then he got up to creep out of the room--it was +better he went, she did not like him near her. But his glance fell on +one of the letters. Whose unformed, copy-book handwriting was that? +Probably a begging letter. It was addressed to his wife, but she did +not open any letters at present; and he positively longed to open just +that letter. It was not curiosity, he felt as if he must do it. + +He opened the letter more quickly than he was in the habit of doing. +A woman had written it, no doubt a girl the letters were carefully +formed, with no character in them. And the person had evidently +endeavoured to disguise her writing. + +"If you wish to find out anything about your son, you must go to +140, Puttkammerstrasse, and watch the third storey in the back +building, left side wing, where 'Knappe' is written above the bell. +There she lives." + +No name had been signed underneath it; "A Good Friend" was all that +was written below. + +Paul Schlieben had a feeling as if the paper were burning his +fingers--common paper, but pink and smelling of cheap perfumed soap--an +anonymous letter, faugh! What had this trash to do with them? He was +about to crumple it up when Kate's voice called to him from the bed: +"What have you got there, Paul? A letter? Show me it." + +And as he approached her, but only slowly, hesitatingly, she raised +herself up and tore the letter out of his hand. She read it and cried +out in a loud voice: "Frida Laemke has written that. I'm sure it's from +her. She was going to look for him--and her brother and the man she's +engaged to--they will have found him. Puttkammerstrasse--where is that? +140, we shall have to go there. Immediately, without delay. Ring for +the maid. My shoes, my things--oh, I can't find anything. For goodness' +sake do ring. She must do my hair--oh, never mind, I can do it all +myself." + +She had jumped out of bed in trembling haste; she was sitting in +front of her dressing-table now, combing her long hair herself. It was +tangled from lying in bed, but she combed it through with merciless +haste. + +"If only we don't arrive too late. We shall have to make haste. He's +sure to be there, quite sure to be there. Why do you stand there +looking at me like that? Do get ready. I shall be ready directly, we +shall be able to go directly. Paul, dear Paul, we are sure to find him +there--oh God!" She threw out her arms, her weakness made her dizzy, +but her will conquered the weakness. Now she stood quite firmly on her +feet. + +Nobody would have believed that she had just been lying in her bed +perfectly helpless. Her husband had not the courage to oppose her +wishes, besides, how could things be worse than they were? They could +never be worse than they were, and at all events she would never be +able to reproach him any more that he had not loved the boy. + +When, barely half an hour later, they got into the carriage +Friedrich had telephoned for, she was less pale than, and did not look +so old as, he. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Whenever Frida Laemke met Wolfgang Schlieben now, she cast down her eyes +and he pretended not to see her. He was angry with her: the confounded +little minx to betray him. She was the only one who could have put his +parents on his track. How should they otherwise have ever guessed it? +He could have kicked himself for having once given that viper hints +about his acquaintance in Puttkammerstrasse. Frida and her friendship, +just let her try to talk to him again about friendship. Pooh, women on +the whole were not worth anything. + +A fierce contempt for women had taken possession of the young +fellow. He would have liked to spit in their faces--all venal +creatures--he knew quite enough about them now, ay, and loathed +them. + +The boy, who was not yet nineteen, felt tired and old; strangely +tired. When Wolfgang thought of the time that had just passed, it +seemed to him like a dream; now that the rooms in Friedrichstrasse had +been given up and he was living with his parents again, even like a bad +dream. And when he met Frida Laemke--that could not be avoided as he +drove to and fro regularly in office hours now--he felt a bitter pang +every time. He did not even say how do you do to her, he could not +bring himself to say even that. + +If only he could throw of! the oppression that weighed him down. +They were not unkind to him--no, they were even very good--but still he +had always the feeling that they only tolerated him. That irritated him +and made him sad at the same time. They had not reproached him, would +probably not do so either, but his father was always grave, reserved, +and his mother's glance had something that simply tortured him. He was +filled with a morbid distrust: why did they not tell him straight out +they despised him? + +Something that was almost remorse troubled him during the nights +when he could not sleep. At such times his heart would throb, +positively flutter, he had to sit up in bed--he could not bear to lie +down--and fight for breath. Then he stared into the dark, his eyes +distended with terror. Oh, what a horrible condition that was. In the +morning when the attack was over--this "moral sickness"--as he used to +call it scornfully--he was vexed at his sentimentality. What wrong had +he done? Nothing different from what hundreds of other young fellows +do, only they were not so idiotic as he. That Frida, that confounded +gossip. He would have liked to wring her neck. + +After those bad nights Wolfgang was still more unamiable, more +taciturn, more sulky, more reserved than ever. And he looked more +wretched. + +"He's run down," said Paul Schlieben to himself. He did not say so +to his wife--why agitate her still more?--for he could see that she was +uneasy from the way she took care of him. She did not make use of words +or of caresses--those days were over--but she paid special attention to +his food; he was positively pampered. A man of his age ought to be much +stronger. His back no longer seemed to be so broad, his chest was less +arched, his black eyes lay deep in their sockets and had dark +lines under them. He held himself badly and he was always in very bad +spirits. His spirits, yes, his spirits, those were at the root of all +the evil, but no care could alter them and no medicine. The young +fellow was dissatisfied with himself, that was it, and was it any +wonder? He felt ashamed of himself. + +And the situation in which he had found him rose up before his +father's mental vision with terrible distinctness. + +He had let his wife wait downstairs for him--true, she had made a +point of going up with him, but he had insisted on her staying down in +the court-yard, that narrow, dark yard which smelt of fustiness and +dust--he had gone up alone. Three flights of stairs. They had seemed +terribly steep to him, his knees had never felt so tired before when +mounting any stairs. There was the name "Knappe." He had touched the +bell--ugh, what a start he had given when he heard the shrill peal. +What did he really want there? As the result of an anonymous letter he, +Paul Schlieben, was forcing his way in on strange people, into a +strange house? The blood surged to his head--and at that moment the +person opened the door in a light blue dressing-gown, no longer young, +but buxom, and with good-natured eyes. And by the gleam of a miserable +kitchen lamp, which lighted up the pitch-dark passage even at noon, he +had seen a smart top-coat and a fine felt hat hanging in the entrance, +and had recognised Wolfgang's things. So he was really there? There? So +the anonymous letter had not lied after all. + +He did not know exactly what he had done after that; he only knew he +had got rid of some money. And then he had led the young man down the +stairs by the arm--that is to say, dragged him more than led him. Kate +had met them halfway. She had found the time too long downstairs, +open-mouthed children had gathered round her, and women had +watched her from the windows. She was almost in despair: why did Paul +remain upstairs such a terribly long time? She had had no idea, of +course, that he had first to wake his son out of a leaden sleep in an +untidy bed. And she must never, never know. + +Now they had got him home again, but was it a pleasure? To that Paul +Schlieben had to give a curt "no" as answer, even if he had felt ever +so disposed to forgive, ever so placable. No joy came to them from that +quarter now. Perhaps they might have some later, much later. For the +time being it would be best for the young man to serve his time as a +soldier. + +Wolfgang was to present himself on the first of April. Schlieben +pinned his last hope to that. + +Wolfgang had always wished to serve with the Rathenow Hussars, but +after their last experiences his father deemed it more advisable to let +him join the more sedate infantry. + +Formerly Wolfgang would have opposed this plan very strenuously--in +any case it must be cavalry--now it did not enter his head to do so. If +he had to serve as a soldier, it was quite immaterial to him where; he +was dead tired. His only wish was to sleep his fill for once. Kullrich +was dead--his sorrowing father had sent him the announcement from +Goerbersdorf towards Christmas--and he? He had wasted too many nights in +dissipation. + +It was a blow to Paul Schlieben that Wolfgang was not accepted as a +soldier. "Disqualified"--a hard word--and why disqualified? + +"Serious organic defect of the heart"--his parents read it with eyes +that thought they had made a mistake and that still read correctly. + +Wolfgang was very exhausted when he came home after the +examination, but he did not seem to mind much that he was disqualified. +He did not show it--but was he not, all the same? + +The doctor tried to put everything in as favourable a light as he +could after he, too, had examined him. "Defect of the heart, good +gracious, defect of the heart, there isn't a single person who has a +perfectly normal heart. If you take a little care of yourself, +Wolfgang, and live a regular life, you can grow to be a very old man +with it." + +The young fellow did not say a word. + +The Schliebens overwhelmed their doctor with reproaches. Why had he +not told them it long ago? He must surely have known. Why had he left +them in such ignorance? + +Dr. Hofmann defended himself: had he not again and again exhorted +them to be careful? He had been anxious about the boy's heart ever +since he had had scarlet fever, and had not concealed his fears. All +the same, he had not thought matters would get worse so quickly. The +boy had lived too gay a life. + +"Serious organic defect of the heart"--that was like a sentence of +death. Wolfgang laid down his arms. All at once he felt he had no +longer the strength to fight against those attacks in the night. What +he had fought out all alone in his bed, even without lighting his +candle, before he knew that, now drove him to his feet. It drove him to +the window--he tore it open--drove him round the room, until he at +last, completely exhausted, found rest in the arm-chair. It drove him +even to knock at his parents' door: "Are you asleep? I am so +frightened. Sit up with me." + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +They had had bad nights for weeks. Wolfgang had suffered and his mother +with him. How could she sleep when she knew that somebody in +the next room was in torture? + +Now he was better again. Their old friend's medicines had had a good +effect, and Wolfgang had gone through a regular cure: baths, friction, +massage, special diet. Now they could be quite satisfied with the +result. It was especially the strictly regular life that had done him +good; his weight had increased, his eyes were brighter, his complexion +fresher. They were all full of hope--all except one. That one had no +wish to live any longer. + +The month of April was raw and stormy, quite exceptionally cold. It +was impossible for the convalescent to be as much in the open air as +was desirable, especially as any exercise that would warm him, such as +tennis, cycling, riding, was still too tiring for him. The doctor +proposed to send him to the Riviera. Even if there were only a few +weeks left before it would be too hot there, that would suffice. + +His father was at once willing for the young fellow to go. If it +would do him good of course he must go. Kate offered to accompany +him. + +"But why, my dear lady? The youngster can quite well go alone," the +doctor assured her. + +However, she insisted on it, she would go with him. It was not +because she still feared she might lose him; it was her duty to do so, +she must accompany him even if she had not wished to. And at the same +time a faint desire began to stir in her, too, unknown to herself. She +was so well acquainted with the south--should they go to Sestri, for +example? She looked inquiringly at her husband. Had they not once spent +some perfectly delightful days on the coast near Spezia? There, near +the blue sea, where the large stone pines are greener and give more +shade than the palms further south, where there is something crisp and +refreshing in the air in spite of its mildness, where there is +nothing relaxing in the climate but everything is vivifying. + +He smiled; of course they could go there. He was so pleased that his +wife's enthusiasm was not quite a thing of the past. + +Wolfgang rummaged about in his room for a long time on the afternoon +before their departure. Kate, who feared he might exert himself too +much whilst packing, had sent Friedrich to assist him. But the latter +soon came downstairs again: "The young gentleman wishes to do it +alone." + +When Wolfgang had put the last things into his trunk he looked round +his room thoughtfully. He had grown up there, he had so often looked +upon the room as a cage, would he ever return to it? + +_Here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come._ + +The text he had received at his confirmation hung on the wall +opposite him in a beautiful frame. He had not read it for a long time. +Now he read it again, smiling slightly, a little scornfully and a +little sadly. Yes, he would flutter back into it. He had got used to +the cage. + +And now he resolved to do something more as the very last thing--to +go to Frida. + +Frau Laemke was speechless with astonishment, almost frightened, when +she saw young Heir Schlieben step into her room about the time her +Frida generally came home. She stammered with embarrassment: "No, Frida +isn't at home yet--and Artur isn't either--and father is up in the +lodge--but if you will put up with my company until--until--they +come"--she pushed him a chair with a good deal of noise. + +He drew his chair close to the table at which she had been sewing. +Now he was sitting where he used to sit. And he remembered his first +invitation to the Laemkes' quite distinctly--it had been +Frida's tenth birthday--he had sat there with the children, and the +coffee and the cakes had tasted so excellent. + +And a host of other memories came back to him--nothing but pleasant +memories--but still he and Frau Laemke did not seem able to start a +proper conversation. Did he feel oppressed at the thought of meeting +Frida again? Or what made him so restless there? Yes, that was it, he +did not feel at home there now. + +There was something sad in his voice when he said to Frau Laemke as +he held out his hand to her on leaving: "Well--good-bye." + +"Well, I hope you'll have a real good time--good bye for the +present." + +He nodded in reply and shook her hand once more, and then he went. +He preferred to go and meet Frida, that was better than sitting in that +room. His heart was throbbing. Then he saw her coming towards him. + +Although it was dark and the street lamps not so good as in the +town, he recognised her already far off. She was wearing the same +sailor hat with the blue band she had had the summer before; it was +certainly rather early in the year, but it suited her--so fresh and +springlike. + +A feeling surged up in Wolfgang, as she stood before him, that he +had never known in the presence of any woman: a brotherly feeling of +great tenderness. + +He greeted her in silence, but she said in a glad voice: "Oh, is it +you, Wolfgang?" and held out her hand to him. + +He strolled along beside her as he had done before; she had +slackened her pace involuntarily. She did not know exactly on what +footing they were with each other, but still she thought she could feel +that he was no longer angry. + +"We are going away to-morrow," he said. + +"Well, I never! Where?" + +And he told her. + +She interrupted him in the middle. "Are you angry with me?" she +asked in a low voice. + +He shook his head in the negative, but he did not say anything +further about it. + +All she had intended saying to him, that she had not been able to do +anything else, that Hans had found him out, that she had promised his +mother and that she herself had been so extremely anxious about him, +remained unsaid. It was not necessary. It was as if the past were dead +and buried now, as if he had entirely forgotten it. + +When he told the girl, who was listening with much interest, about +the Riviera where he was going, something like a new pleasure in life +seemed to creep into his heart again. Oh, all he wanted was to get away +from his present surroundings. When he got to the Riviera everything +would be better. He had not got an exact impression of what it would be +like there; he had only half listened, no, he had not listened at all +when his mother told him about the south, it had all been so +immaterial to him. Now he felt himself that it was a good thing to take +an interest in things again. He drew a deep breath. + +"Are you going to send me a pretty picture post-card from there, +too?" she asked. + +"Of course, many." And then he laid his arm round her narrow +shoulders and drew her towards him. And she let him draw her. + +They stood in the public street, where the bushes that grew on both +sides of it were already in bud and the elder was swelling with the +first sap, and clung to each other. + +"Come back quite well," she sobbed. + +And he kissed her tenderly on her cheek: "Frida, I really have to +thank you." + +When Frida went to business next morning--it was half past +seven--she said to her mother: "Now he's gone," and she remained +thoughtful the whole day. She had not spoken to Wolfgang for many weeks +and she had not minded it at all during the time but since the evening +before she had felt sad. She had thought much of him, she could not +forget him at all. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Kate was alone with her son. Now she had him all to herself. What she +had striven for jealously before had now been given to her. Not even +nature that looked in at the windows with such alluring eyes could +attract him. It surprised her--nay, it almost saddened her now--that he +did not show more interest. They travelled through Switzerland--he saw +it for the first time--but those high mountains, whose summits were +lost in the snow and the clouds and that moved her to tears of adoring +admiration the first time she saw them, hardly wrung a glance from him. +Now and then he looked out of the carriage window, but he mostly leant +back in his corner reading, or dreaming with open eyes. + +"Are you tired?" + +"No," he said; nothing but "no," but without the surly abruptness +which had been peculiar to him. His tone was no longer unpleasant and +repellent. + +Kate looked at her son with anxious eyes: was the journey tiring +him? It was fortunate that she was with him. It seemed to her that she +was indispensable, and a feeling of heartfelt satisfaction made her +insensible to the fatigue of the long journey. + +Wolfgang was not much interested in the cathedral at Milan. "Yes, +grand," he said when she grew enthusiastic about the marvellous +structure. But he would not go up to the platform with her, +from which they would have a magnificent view all round as far as the +distant Alps, as the weather was so clear. "You go alone, leave me +here." + +At first it seemed ridiculous to her that she, the old woman, should +go up whilst he, the young man, remained below. But at last she could +not resist the desire to see all those marvellous things again that she +had already once enjoyed. She took a ticket for the platform, and he +opened one of the camp stools that stand about in the enormous empty +cathedral and sat down, his back against a marble pillar. + +Oh, it was nice to rest here. After the market outside, with its +noise and the buzzing of voices and all the gaudy colours, he found a +twilight here filled with the perfume of incense. It did not disturb +him that doors opened and closed, that people came in and out in +crowds. That here a guide gave the visitors the information he had +learnt by heart, drawling it quite loudly in a cracked voice without +heeding that he meanwhile almost stumbled over the feet of those who +were kneeling on low benches, confessing their sins in a whisper to a +priest seated there. That there someone was celebrating mass--the +priests were curtsying and ringing their bells--whilst here a cook +chattered to a friend of hers, the fowls that were tied together by +their legs lying beside her. + +All that did not disturb him, he did not notice it even. The +delicious twilight filled his senses, he was so sleepy, felt such a +blessed fatigue. All the saints smiled before his closing eyes, sweet +Marys and chubby little angels resembling cupids. He felt at his ease +there. Milan Cathedral, that wonder of the world, lost its embarrassing +grandeur; the wide walls moved together, became narrow and home-like, +and still they enfolded the world a peaceful world in which +sinners kneel down and rise again pure. Wolfgang was seized with a +great longing to kneel down there also. Oh, there it was again, the +longing he had had in his boyhood. How he had loved the church their +maid Cilia had taken him to. He still loved it, he loved it anew, he +loved it now with a more ardent love than in those days. He felt at +home in this church, he had the warm feeling of belonging to it. _Qui +vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum._ The golden monstrance gleamed as +it was raised on high, those who were praying bowed low, blissful +harmonies floated under the high arched dome, ever more and more +beautiful--more and more softly. His eyelids closed. + +And he saw Cilia--as fresh, as beautiful as life itself. Oh, how +very beautiful. Surely she had not looked like that before? He knew +that he was dreaming, but he was not able to shake off the dream. And +she came quite close to him--oh, so close. And she made the sign of the +cross--over him the organ played softly--hark, what was she saying, +what was she whispering above him? He wanted to seize hold of her hand, +question her, then he heard another voice: + +"Wolfgang, are you asleep?" + +Kate had laid her hand lightly on his hands, which were folded on +his knees. "I suppose I was a long time up there? You have felt +bored?" + +"Oh no, no." He said it enthusiastically. + +They went out of the cathedral together, whilst the organ sounded +behind them until they reached the market-place. Kate was in ecstasies +about the view she had had, so did not notice the mysterious radiance +in Wolfgang's eyes. He was quiet, and seemed to agree to +everything. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +His manner began to cause his mother some uneasiness. What would +have made her happy before--oh, how she had longed for a more docile +child in bygone days!--saddened her now. Was he, after all, worse than +they had any idea of? + +They had now reached the coast, had got to Sestri. Those were the +same stone pines under which she had sat and painted as a younger woman +eighteen years ago. But another hotel had come into existence since +then, quite a German hotel, German landlord, German waiters, German +food, German society, all the comfort the Germans like. Kate had wanted +to live a retired life, to devote herself to Wolfgang; but now +she felt she needed a chat with this one or that one at times, +for even if she and Wolfgang were together, she felt alone all the +same. What was he thinking of? His brow and his eyes showed that +he was thinking of something, but he did not express his thoughts. Was +he low-spirited--bright? Happy--sad? Were there many things he repented +of and did he ponder over them, or did he feel bored here? She did not +know. + +He kept away from everybody else with a certain obstinacy. It was in +vain that Kate encouraged him to play tennis with young girls who were +on the look-out for a partner; if he did not overdo it he might +certainly try to play. He was also invited to go out sailing, but he +did not seem to care for that sport any longer. + +Wolfgang lay right out on the mole for the most part, against the +rocky point of which the blue sea flings itself restlessly until it is +a mass of white foam, and looked across at the coast near San Remo +swimming in a ruddy violet vapour or back at the naked heights of the +Apennines, in whose semi-circle the white and red houses of Sestri +nestle. + +When the fishing boats glided into the harbour with slack +sails like weary birds, he got up and sauntered along to meet them at +the landing-place. Then he would stand there with his hands in his +trouser pockets, to see what fish they brought ashore. The catches were +not large. Then he took his hands out of his pockets and gave the +fishermen what money he had with him. + +If his mother had known what her son was thinking of! If she had +guessed that his soul flew away with weary wings like a gull drifting +over a boundless sea! + +Wolfgang was suffering from home-sickness. He did not like being +there. Everything was much too soft, much too beautiful there; he felt +bored. The stone pines with their pungent smell were the only things he +liked; they were even better than the pines in the Grunewald. But he +was not really longing for the Grunewald either. It was always the +same, whether he was here or there he was always racked with longing. +For what? For what place? That was what he pondered over. But he would +not have liked to say it to his mother, for he saw now that she did all +she could for him. And he found an affectionate word to say to her more +frequently than he had ever done before in his life. + +So at last, at last I Kate often gave him a covert side-glance: was +this the same boy who had resisted her so defiantly as a child, had +refused her love, all her great love? This boy whose face had moved her +so strangely in Milan Cathedral, was he the same who had lain on the +doorstep drunk?--ugh, so drunk! The same who had sunk, sunk so low, +that he--oh, she would not think of it any more. + +Kate wanted to forget; she honestly tried to do so. When she found +him in the cathedral sitting near the pillar, his hands folded, his +eyelids closed dreamily, he had seemed to her so young, still +touchingly young; his forehead had been smooth, as though all the lines +on it had been wiped away. And she had to think: had they not +expected too much of him? Had they always been just to him? Had they +understood him as they ought to have understood him? Doubts arose in +her mind. She had always deemed herself a good mother; since that day +in the cathedral she felt as though she had failed in something. She +herself could not say in what. But sadness and a large amount of +self-torturing pain were mingled with the satisfaction that her son had +now come to her. Ah, now he was good, now he was at least something +like what she had wished him to be--softer, more tractable--but +now--what pleasure had she from it now? + +"Wolfgang still causes me uneasiness," she wrote to her husband. +"It's beautiful here, but he does not see it. I am often +frightened." + +When her husband had offered to go with them he had done so because +he wished to save her in many ways--Kate had opposed it almost +anxiously: no, no, it was not at all necessary. She would much prefer +to be alone with Wolfgang, she considered it so much more beneficial +both for him and for herself. But now she often thought of her husband, +and wrote to him almost every day. And even if it were only a few lines +on a postcard, she felt the need of sending him a word. He, yes he +would find it just as beautiful there as she found it. As they had both +found it in the old days. They had once climbed that path over the +rocks together, he had given her his hand, had led her so that she +should not feel dizzy, and she had eyed the blue glassy sea far below +her and far above her the grey rocky promontory with the deep green +stone pines that kissed the blue of the sky with a blissful shudder. +Had she grown so old in those eighteen years that she dared not go +along that path any more? She had tried but it was of no use, she had +been seized with a sudden dizziness. That was because the hand +was not there that had supported her so firmly, so securely. Oh yes, +those had been better days, happier. + +Kate entirely forgot that she had coveted something so ardently in +those days, that she had saddened many an hour for herself and him, +embittered every enjoyment. Now she looked past the son who was +strolling along by her side, looked into the distance with tender eyes +in which a gleam of her lost youth still shone--her good husband, he +was so alone. Did he think of her as she of him? + +That evening when Wolfgang had retired to his room--what he did +there, whether he still sat up reading or writing or had already gone +to bed she did not know--she wrote to her husband. + +It was not the length and the full particulars she gave in the +letter that pleased Paul Schlieben so much--she had also written long +detailed letters to him from Franzensbad at the time--but he read +something between the lines. It was an unexpressed wish, a longing, a +craving for him. And he resolved to go to the south. After all, they +had lived so many years together, that it was quite comprehensible that +the one felt lonely without the other. + +He settled the business he had in hand with energetic eagerness. He +hoped to be ready to start in a week at the latest. But he would not +write to her beforehand, would not write anything whatever about it, it +was to be a surprise for once in a way. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The midday sun at Sestri was hot, but in spite of its gleaming power +the air became agreeable and refreshing just a little before sunset. A +sweet odour poured forth from every plant then, and this streaming +wealth of perfume was so soothing, so delicious. Kate felt her +heart overflow. Thank God, she was still not quite exhausted, not quite +worn-out yet, she still possessed the faculty of enjoying what was +beautiful. If Paul had only been there. + +High up, quite at the edge of the outermost promontory on that coast +and surrounded by the white foam of the ardent sea that longs to climb +up to the cypresses and pines, the holm-oaks and the strawberry-trees, +the many sweet-smelling roses, lies the garden of a rich marchese. The +mother and her son were sitting there. They were looking in silence at +the gigantic sun, which hung red, deep purple just above the sea that, +quiet and devout, solemn and expectant in the holy conception of the +light, shone with the splendid reflection of it. It was one of those +hours, those marvellous rare hours in which even mute things become +eloquent, when the hidden becomes revealed, the stones cry aloud. + +The woman felt quite startled as she gazed and gazed: oh, there it +was, the same gigantic red sun that she had once seen disappear into +the waves of the wild Venn. + +Alas, that that thought should come even now and torture her. She +turned quickly and looked at Wolfgang with timid apprehension--if he +should guess it. But he was sitting on a stone, taking no interest in +his surroundings; he had crossed his legs and his eyes were half +closed. Of what was he dreaming? She had to rouse him. + +"Isn't that splendid, grand, sublime?" + +"Oh yes." + +"It's setting--look how it's setting." Kate had jumped up from the +ivy-clad pine-stump and was pointing at it. Her cheeks were flushed and +she was full of enthusiasm at the sight of the purple sea, the radiant +light that was disappearing in such splendour. The tears came to her +eyes; they were dazzled. When she looked again it struck her +that Wolfgang was very pale. + +"Are you cold?" A sudden coolness blew from the sea. + +"No. But I"--suddenly he opened his dark eyes wide and looked at her +firmly--"I should like to know something about my mother. Now you can +speak--I'm listening." + +"Of your--your"--she stammered, it came so unexpectedly. Alas, the +sun, the Venn sun. She would have preferred to have been silent now; +now she had not the courage she had had before. + +But he urged her. "Tell me." There was something imperious in his +voice. "What is her name?--Where does she live?--Is she still +alive?" + +Kate looked around with terrified eyes. "Is she still alive?"--she +could not even answer that. Oh yes, yes, surely--of course--she was +still alive. + +And she told him all. Told him how they had got him away from the +Venn, had fled with him as though he had been stolen. + +As she told him it she turned pale and then red and then pale +again--oh, what a passion he would fly into. How he would excite +himself. And how angry he would be with her. For they had never +troubled about his mother since they left the Venn, never again. She +could not tell him any more. + +He did not ask any other questions. But he did not fly into a +passion as she had feared; she need not have defended her action when +he remained silent for some time, positively make excuses for it. He +gave her a friendly glance and only said: "You meant well, I feel sure +of that." + +As they went down the steps leading from the park to the town he +offered her his arm. He led her, to all appearances, but still +she had the feeling as if he were the one who needed a support--he +tottered. + +The cemetery at Sestri lies behind the marchese's garden. The white +marble monuments gleamed through the grey of evening; the white wings +of an enormous angel rose just above the wall that encircles the park. +Kate looked back: did not something like a presentiment seem to be +wafted to them from there--or was it a hope? She did not know whether +Wolfgang felt as she did or whether he felt anything, but she pressed +his arm more closely and he pressed hers slightly in return. + +She heard him walking restlessly up and down his room during the +night that followed the evening they had spent in the garden of Villa +Piuma. She had really made up her mind to leave him alone--she had +looked after him much too much formerly--but then she thought he was +still a patient, and that the agitation he must have felt on hearing +her story might be injurious to him. She wanted to go to him, but found +his door locked. He only opened it after she had repeatedly knocked and +implored him to let her come in. + +"What do you want?" There was again something of the old repellent +sound in his voice. + +But she would not allow herself to be deterred. "I thought you might +perhaps like to--well, talk a little more about it," she said +tenderly. + +"What am I to do?" he cried, and he wrung his hands and started to +stride restlessly up and down the room again. "If only somebody would +tell me what I'm to do now. But nobody knows. Nobody can know. What am +I to do--what am I to do?" + +Kate stood there dismayed: oh, now he had such thoughts. She saw it, +he had wept. She clung to him full of grieved sympathy. She did what +she had not done for a long time, for an exceedingly long time, she +kissed him. And shaken in the depths of her being by his "What am I to +do?" as by a just reproach, she said contritely: "Don't torture +yourself. Don't fret. If you like we'll go there--we'll look for +her--we shall no doubt find her." + +But he shook his head vehemently and groaned. "That's too late +now--much too late. What am I to do there now? I am no use for that or +for this"--he threw out his hands--"no use for anything. Mother, +mother!" Throwing both his arms round the woman he fell down heavily in +front of her and pressed his face against her dress. + +She felt he was sobbing by the convulsive movement of his body, by +the tight grasp of his hot hands round her waist. + +"If only I knew--my mother--mother--oh, mother, what am I to +do?" + +He wept aloud, and she wept with him in compassionate sympathy. If +only Paul had been there. She could not find any comforting words to +say to him, she felt so deserving of blame herself, she believed there +was no longer any comfort to be found. Before her eyes stood the _one_ +agonising, torturing question: "How is it to end?" engraved in large +letters, like the inscriptions over cemetery gates. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Kate took counsel with herself: should she write to her husband +"Come"? Wolfgang was certainly not well again. He did not complain, he +only said he could not sleep at night and that made him so tired. She +did not know whether it was moral suffering that deprived him of his +sleep or physical. She was in great trouble, but she still put off the +letter to her husband. Why should she make him hasten to them, take +that long journey? It would not be of any use. It was still not clear +to her that she wanted him for herself, for her own sake. She even +omitted writing to him for a few days. + +Wolfgang lay a great deal on the couch in his room with the shutters +closed; he did not even read. She often went in to keep him company--he +must not feel lonely--but it seemed almost as though he were just as +pleased to be alone. + +When she looked at him furtively over the top of her book in the +semi-obscurity of the room, she could not think he was so ill. It was +probably a disinclination to do anything more than anything else--a +slackness of will-power that made him so apathetic also physically. If +only she could rouse him. She proposed all manner of things, drives +along the coast to all the beautifully situated places in the +neighbourhood, excursions into the mountains--they were so near the +highest summits in the Alps, and it was indescribably beautiful to look +down into the fruitful valleys of the _cinque terre_ that were full of +vineyards--sails in the gulf, during which the boat carries you so +smoothly under the regular strokes of practised boatmen, that you +hardly notice the distance from the shore and still are very soon +swimming far out on the open sea, on that heavenly clear, blue sea, +whose breath liberates the soul. Did he want to fish--there were such +exquisite little gaily-coloured fish there, that are so stupid and +greedy they grab at every bait--would he not shoot ospreys as well? She +positively worried him. + +But he always gave her an evasive reply; he did not want to. "I'm +really too tired to-day." + +Then she sent for the Italian doctor. But Wolfgang was angry: what +did he want with that quack? He was so disagreeable to the old man that +Kate felt quite ashamed of him. Then she left him alone. Why should she +try to show him kindness if he would not be shown kindness? +She despaired about him. It made her very depressed to think that their +journey also seemed a failure--yes, it was, she saw that more every +day. The charm of novelty that had stirred him up during the first days +had disappeared; now it was as it had been before--worse. + +For now the air no longer seemed to agree with him. When they walked +together he frequently stood still and panted, like one who has +difficulty in breathing. She often felt quite terrified when that +happened. "Let us turn round, I know you don't feel well." But this +difficulty in breathing passed away so quickly that she scolded herself +for the excessive anxiety she always felt on his account, an anxiety +that had embittered so many years of her life. + +But one night he had another attack, worse than the others he had +already had at home. + +It might have been about midnight when Kate, who was sleeping +softly, rocked to sleep by the constant roar of the sea, was startled +by a knocking at the door between their two rooms, and by a cry +of "Mother, oh mother!" Was not that a child moaning? She sat up +drowsily--then she recognised his voice. + +"Wolfgang, yes, what's the matter?" She threw on her morning-gown in +a fright, pushed her feet into her velvet shoes, opened the door--there +he stood outside in his shirt and with bare feet, trembling and +stammering: "I feel--so bad." He looked at her imploringly with eyes +full of terror, and fell down before she had time to catch hold of +him. + +Kate almost pulled the bell down in her terror. The porter and +chambermaid came running. "Telegraph 'Come' to my husband--to my +husband. Quickly, at once." + +When the scared proprietor of the hotel also appeared, they +laid the sick lad on his untidy bed again; the porter rushed to the +telegraph station and for the doctor, the chambermaid sobbed. The +landlord himself hurried down into his cellar to fetch some of the +oldest brandy and the best champagne. They were all so extremely sorry +for the young gentleman; he seemed to be lying in a deep swoon. + +Kate did not weep like the good-natured person the chambermaid, +whose tears ran down her cheeks the whole time. She had too much to +think of, she had to do her duty until the last. Until the last--now +she knew it. It was not necessary for the doctor to shake his head nor +to whisper mysteriously to the proprietor of the hotel--she knew it. +Restoratives were brought from the chemist's; the sick lad's head was +lowered, his feet raised, they gave him camphor injections--the heart +would not be whipped on any more. + +Kate did not leave him; she stood close to his bed. The golden, +invincible, eternal light was just rising gloriously out of the waves +when he stammered something once more. She bent over him as closely as +she had once done over the sleeping boy, when she had longed to give +him breath of her breath, to mould him anew for herself, to give him +life of her life. She had not that wish any longer. She let him go now. +And if she bent over him so closely now, hung on his lips so +affectionately, it was only to hear his last wish. + +"Mo-ther?" There was such a question in his voice. He said nothing +further. He only opened his eyes once more, looked round searchingly, +sighed and then expired. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The sun laughed in at the windows. And the woman, who, with dry +eyes, was now standing at one of them looking out at the splendour, at +the refreshing, glorious morning that was more sparkling than +ever before, felt vanquished by the power of nature. It was too great, +too sublime, too irresistible--she must bend the knee admiringly before +nature, however veiled her eyes were. Kate stood a long time in deep +thought. Outside was life, here in the room was death. But death is not +the greatest evil. She turned round with a trembling sigh and stepped +back to the bed: "Thank God!" + +Then she sank on her knees before the dead boy, folded his cold +hands and kissed him. + +She did not hear that someone tapped softly at the door. + +"Madame." The chambermaid stuck her head in. And a man's head was +visible above the chambermaid's. + +"Madame." + +Kate did not hear. + +"Here is somebody--the gentleman--the gentleman has arrived." + +"My husband?" + +Paul Schlieben had pushed the girl aside and had entered, pale, +hurriedly, in great agitation. His wife, his poor wife. What a lot she +had had to go through alone. The lad dead! They had met him with the +news as he arrived unsuspectingly to surprise them at their +breakfast. + +"Paul!" It was a cry of the most joyful surprise, the utmost relief. +She fled from the cold dead into his warm arms. "Paul, Paul--Wolfgang +is dead!" Now she found tears. Streaming tears that would not cease and +that were still so beneficial. + +All the bitterness she had felt whilst her son was still alive +disappeared with them. "Poor boy--our poor dear boy." These tears +washed him clean, so clean that he again became the little innocent boy +that had lain in the blooming heather and laughed at the bright sun +with transparent eyes. Oh, if she had only left him there. She would +always reproach herself for not having done so. + +"Paul, Paul," she sobbed aloud. "Thank God, you are here. Had you +any idea of it? Yes, you had. You know how miserable, how unhappy I +feel." The elderly woman clasped her arms round the elderly man with +almost youthful fervour: "If I had not you--oh, the child, the poor +child." + +"Don't cry so much." He wanted to console her, but the tears rolled +down his lined face too. He had travelled there as quickly as he could, +urged on by a sudden anxiety--he had had no letters from her--he had +come full of joy to surprise them, and now he found things like this. +He strove for composure. + +"If only I had left him there--oh, if only I had left him +there!" + +The man entered into his wife's feelings of torture and +self-reproach, but he pointed to the dead boy, whose face above the +white shirt looked peculiarly refined, almost perfect, young and smooth +and quite peaceful, and then drew her more closely towards him with the +other hand. "Don't cry. You were the one to make a man of him--don't +forget that." + +"Do you think so?--Oh Paul!"--she bowed the face that was covered +with tears in deep pain--"I did not make him any happier by it." + +She had to weep, weep unceasingly in deep acknowledgment of worldly +error. She grasped her husband's hands tremulously and drew him down +with her at the side of the bed. + +The hands of husband and wife were clasped together over the son +they had lost. They whispered, deeply repentant and as though it came +from one mouth: + +"_Forgive us our trespasses._" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF HIS MOTHER*** + + +******* This file should be named 30732.txt or 30732.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/7/3/30732 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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