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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/9994-8.txt b/9994-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9db95a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/9994-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8578 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Indian Lily and Other Stories, by Hermann Sudermann + +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 Indian Lily and Other Stories + +Author: Hermann Sudermann + +Translator: Ludwig Lewisohn + +Posting Date: November 26, 2011 [EBook #9994] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: November 6, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +AND OTHER STORIES + + + + +BY + +HERMANN SUDERMANN + + + + +TRANSLATED BY + +LUDWIG LEWISOHN, M.A. + + + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +THE PURPOSE + +THE SONG OF DEATH + +THE VICTIM + +AUTUMN + +MERRY FOLK + +THEA + + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was seven o'clock in the morning when Herr von Niebeldingk opened +the iron gate and stepped into the front garden whose wall of +blossoming bushes separated the house from the street. + +The sun of a May morning tinted the greyish walls with gold, and +caused the open window-panes to flash with flame. + +The master directed a brief glance at the second story whence floated +the dull sound of the carpet-beater. He thrust the key rapidly into +the keyhole for a desire stirred in him to slip past the porter's +lodge unobserved. + +"I seem almost to be--ashamed!" he murmured with a smile of +self-derision as a similar impulse overcame him in front of the +house door. + +But John, his man--a dignified person of fifty--had observed his +approach and stood in the opening door. The servant's mutton-chop +whiskers and admirably silvered front-lock contrasted with a repressed +reproach that hovered between his brows. He bowed deeply. + +"I was delayed," said Herr von Niebeldingk, in order to say something +and was vexed because this sentence sounded almost like an excuse. + +"Do you desire to go to bed, captain, or would you prefer a bath?" + +"A bath," the master responded. "I have slept elsewhere." + +That sounded almost like another excuse. + +"I'm obviously out of practice," he reflected as he entered the +breakfast-room where the silver samovar steamed among the dishes of +old Sèvres. + +He stepped in front of the mirror and regarded himself--not with the +forbearance of a friend but the keen scrutiny of a critic. + +"Yellow, yellow...." He shook his head. "I must apply a curb to my +feelings." + +Upon the whole, however, he had reason to be fairly satisfied with +himself. His figure, despite the approach of his fortieth year, had +remained slender and elastic. The sternly chiselled face, surrounded +by a short, half-pointed beard, showed neither flabbiness nor bloat. +It was only around the dark, weary eyes that the experiences of the +past night had laid a net-work of wrinkles and shadows. Ten years +ago pleasure had driven the hair from his temples, but it grew +energetically upon his crown and rose, above his forehead, in a +Mephistophelian curve. + +The civilian's costume which often lends retired officers a guise of +excessive spick-and-spanness had gradually combined with an easier +bearing to give his figure a natural elegance. To be sure, six years +had passed since, displeased by a nagging major, he had definitely +hung up the dragoon's coat of blue. + +He was wealthy enough to have been able to indulge in the luxury of +that displeasure. In addition his estates demanded more rigorous +management.... From Christmas to late spring he lived in Berlin, where +his older brother occupied one of those positions at court that mean +little enough either to superior or inferior ranks, but which, in a +certain social set dependent upon the court, have an influence of +inestimable value. Without assuming the part of either a social lion +or a patron, he used this influence with sufficient thoroughness to be +popular, even, in certain cases, to be feared, and belonged to that +class of men to whom one always confides one's difficulties, never +one's wife. + +John came to announce to his master that the bath was ready. And while +Niebeldingk stretched himself lazily in the tepid water he let his +reflections glide serenely about the delightful occurrence of the +past night. + +That occurrence had been due for six months, but opportunity had been +lacking. "I am closely watched and well-known," she had told him, "and +dare not go on secret errands." ... Now at last their chance had come +and had been used with clever circumspectness.... Somewhere on the +Polish boundary lived one of her cousins to whose wedding she was +permitted to travel alone.... She had planned to arrive in Berlin +unannounced and, instead of taking the morning train from Eydtkuhnen, +to take the train of the previous evening. Thus a night was gained +whose history had no necessary place in any family chronicle and the +memories of which could, if need were, be obliterated from one's own +consciousness.... Her arrival and departure had caused a few moments +of really needless anxiety. That was all. No acquaintance had run into +them, no waiter had intimated any suspicion, the very cabby who drove +them through the dawn had preserved his stupid lack of expression when +Niebeldingk suddenly sprang from the vehicle and permitted the lady to +be driven on alone.... + +Before his eyes stood her picture--as he had seen her lying during the +night in his arms, fevered with anxiety and rapture ... Ordinarily +her eyes were large and serene, almost drowsy.... The night had proven +to him what a glow could be kindled in them. Whether her broad brows, +growing together over the nose, could be regarded as a beautiful +feature--that was an open question. He liked them--so much +was certain. + +"Thank heaven," he thought. "At last, once more--a _woman_." + +And he thought of another who for three years had been allied to him +by bonds of the tenderest intimacy and whom he had this +night betrayed. + +"Between us," he consoled himself, "things will remain as they have +been, and I can enjoy my liberty." + +He sprayed his body with the icy water of the douche and rang for John +who stood outside of the door with a bath-robe. + +When, ten minutes later, shivering comfortably, he entered the +breakfast-room, he found beside his cup a little heap of letters which +the morning post had brought. There were two letters that gripped his +attention. + +One read: + +"Berlin N., Philippstrasse 10 a. + +DEAR HERR VON NIEBELDINGK:-- + +For the past week I have been in Berlin studying agriculture, since, +as you know, I am to take charge of the estate. Papa made me promise +faithfully to look you up immediately after my arrival. It is merely +due to the respect I owe you that I haven't kept my promise. As I know +that you won't tell Papa I might as well confess to you that I've +scarcely been sober the whole week.--Oh, Berlin is a deuce of a place! + +If you don't object I will drop in at noon to-morrow and convey Papa's +greetings to you. Papa is again afflicted with the gout. + +With warm regards, + +Your very faithful + +FRITZ VON EHRENBERG." + +The other letter was from ... her--clear, serene, full of such +literary reminiscences as always dwelt in her busy little head. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +I wouldn't ask you: Why do I not see you?--you have not called for +five days--I would wait quietly till your steps led you hither without +persuasion or compulsion; but 'every animal loves itself' as the old +gossip Cicero says, and I feel a desire to chat with you. + +I have never believed, to be sure, that we would remain indispensable +to each other. '_Racine passera comme le café_,' Mme. de Sévigné says +somewhere, but I would never have dreamed that we would see so little +of each other before the inevitable end of all things. + +You know the proverb: even old iron hates to rust, and I'm only +twenty-five. + +Come once again, dear Master, if you care to. I have an excellent +cigarette for you--Blum Pasha. I smoke a little myself now and then, +but _c'est plus fort que moi_ and ends in head-ache. + +Joko has at last learned to say 'Richard.' He trills the _r_ +cunningly. He knows that he has little need to be jealous. + +Good-bye! + +ALICE." + +He laughed and brought forth her picture which stood, framed and +glazed, upon his desk. A delicate, slender figure--"_blonde comme les +blés_"--with bluish grey, eager eyes and a mocking expression of the +lips--it was she herself, she who had made the last years of his life +truly livable and whose fate he administered rather than ruled. + +She was the wife of a wealthy mine-owner whose estates abutted on his +and with whom an old friendship, founded on common sports, +connected him. + +One day, suspecting nothing, Niebeldingk entered the man's house and +found him dragging his young wife from room to room by the hair.... +Niebeldingk interfered and felt, in return, the lash of a whip.... +Time and place had been decided upon when the man's physician forbade +the duel.... He had been long suspected, but no certain symptoms had +been alleged, since the brave little woman revealed nothing of the +frightful inwardness of her married life.... Three days later he was +definitely sent to a sanitarium. But between Niebeldingk and Alice the +memory of that last hour of suffering soon wove a thousand threads of +helplessness and pity into the web of love. + +As she had long lost her parents and as she was quite defenceless +against her husband's hostile guardians, the care of her interests +devolved naturally upon him.... He released her from troublesome +obligations and directed her demands toward a safe goal.... Then, very +tenderly, he lifted her with all the roots of her being from the old, +poverty-stricken soil of her earlier years and transplanted her to +Berlin where, by the help of his brother's wife--still gently pressing +on and smoothing the way himself--he created a new way of life +for her. + +In a villa, hidden by foliage from Lake Constance, her husband slowly +drowsed toward dissolution. She herself ripened in the sharp air of +the capital and grew almost into another woman in this banal, +disillusioned world, sober even in its intoxication. + +Of society, from whose official section her fate as well as her +commoner's name separated her, she saw just enough to feel the +influence of the essential conceptions that governed it. + +She lost diffidence and awkwardness, she became a woman of the world +and a connoisseur of life. She learned to condemn one day what she +forgave the next, she learned to laugh over nothing and to grieve over +nothing and to be indignant over nothing. + +But what surprised Niebeldingk more than these small adaptations to +the omnipotent spirit of her new environment, was the deep revolution +experienced by her innermost being. + +She had been a clinging, self-effacing, timid soul. Within three years +she became a determined and calculating little person who lacked +nothing but a certain fixedness to be a complete character. + +A strange coldness of the heart now emanated from her and this was +strengthened by precipitate and often unkindly judgment, supported in +its turn by a desire to catch her own reflection in all things and to +adopt witty points of view. + +Nor was this all. She acquired a desire to learn, which at first +stimulated and amused Niebeldingk, but which had long grown to be +something of a nuisance. + +He himself was held, and rightly held, to be a man of intellect, less +by virtue of rapid perception and flexible thought, than by virtue of +a coolly observant vision of the world, incapable of being confused--a +certain healthy cynicism which, though it never lost an element of +good nature, might yet abash and even chill the souls of men. + +His actual knowledge, however, had remained mere wretched patchwork, +his logic came to an end wherever bold reliance upon the intuitive +process was needed to supply missing links in the ratiocinative chain. + +And so it came to pass that Alice, whom at first he had regarded as +his scholar, his handiwork, his creature, had developed annoyingly +beyond him.... Involuntarily and innocently she delivered the keenest +thrusts. He had, actually, to be on guard.... In the irresponsible +delight of intellectual crudity she solved the deepest problems of +humanity; she repeated, full of faith, the judgments of the ephemeral +rapid writer, instead of venturing upon the sources of knowledge. Yet +even so she impressed him by her faculty of adaptation and her shining +zeal. He was often silenced, for his slow moving mind could not follow +the vagaries of that rapid little brain. + +What would she be at again to-day? "The old gossip Cicero...." And, +"Mme. de Sévigné remarks...." What a rattling and tinkling. It +provoked him. + +And her love! ... That was a bad business. What is one to do with a +mistress who, before falling asleep, is capable of lecturing on +Schopenhauer's metaphysics of sex, and will prove to you up to the +hilt how unworthy it really is to permit oneself to be duped by nature +if one does not share her aim for the generations to come? + +The man is still to be born upon whom such wisdom, uttered at such an +hour--by lips however sweet--does not cast a chill. + +Since that philosophical night he had left untouched the little key +that hung yonder over his desk and that give him, in her house, the +sacred privileges of a husband. And so his life became once more a +hunt after new women who filled his heart with unrest and with the +foolish fires of youth. + +But Alice had never been angry at him. Apparently she lacked +nothing.... + +And his thoughts wandered from her to the woman who had lain against +his breast to-night, shuddering in her stolen joy. + +Heavens! He had almost forgotten one thing! + +He summoned John and said: + +"Go to the florist and order a bunch of Indian lilies. The man knows +what I mean. If he hasn't any, let him procure some by noon." + +John did not move a muscle, but heaven only knew whether he did not +suspect the connection between the Indian lilies and the romance of +the past night. It was in his power to adduce precedents. + +It was an old custom of Niebeldingk's--a remnant of his half out-lived +Don Juan years--to send a bunch of Indian lilies to those women who +had granted him their supreme favours. He always sent the flowers next +morning. Their symbolism was plain and delicate: In spite of what has +taken place you are as lofty and as sacred in my eyes as these pallid, +alien flowers whose home is beside the Ganges. Therefore have the +kindness--not to annoy me with remorse. + +It was a delicate action and--a cynical one. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +At noon--Niebeldingk had just returned from his morning canter--the +visitor, previously announced, was ushered in. + +He was a robust young fellow, long of limb and broad of shoulder. His +face was round and tanned, with hot, dark eyes. With merry boldness, +yet not without diffidence, he sidled, in his blue cheviot suit, +into the room. + +"Morning, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +Enviously and admiringly Niebeldingk surveyed the athletic figure +which moved with springy grace. + +"Morning, my boy ... sober?" + +"In honour of the day, yes." + +"Shall we breakfast?" + +"Oh, with delight, Herr von Niebeldingk!" + +They passed into the breakfast-room where two covers had already been +laid, and while John served the caviare the flood of news burst which +had mounted in their Franconian home during the past months. + +Three betrothals, two important transfers of land, a wedding, Papa's +gout, Mama's charities, Jenny's new target, Grete's flirtation with +the American engineer. And, above all things, the examination! + +"Dear Herr von Niebeldingk, it's a rotten farce. For nine years the +gymnasium trains you and drills you, and in the end you don't get your +trouble's worth! I'm sorry for every hour of cramming I did. They +released me from the oral exam., simply sent me out like a monkey when +I was just beginning to let my light shine! Did you ever hear of such +a thing? _Did_ you ever?" + +"Well, and how about your university work, Fritz?" + +That was a ticklish business, the youth averred. Law and political +science was no use. Every ass took that up. And since it was after all +only his purpose to pass a few years of his green youth profitably, +why he thought he'd stick to his trade and find out how to plant +cabbages properly. + +"Have you started in anywhere yet?" + +Oh, there was time enough. But he had been to some lectures--agronomy +and inorganic chemistry.... You have to begin with inorganic chemistry +if you want to go in for organic. And the latter was agricultural +chemistry which was what concerned him. + +He made these instructive remarks with a serious air and poured down +glass after glass of Madeira. His cheeks began to glow, his heart +expanded. "But that's all piffle, Herr von Niebeldingk, ... all this +book-worm business can go to the devil.... Life--life--life--that's +the main thing!" + +"What do you call life, Fritz?" + +With both hands he stroked the velvety surface of his close-cropped +skull. + +"Well, how am I to tell you? D'you know how I feel? As if I were +standing in front of a great, closed garden ... and I know that all +Paradise is inside ... and occasionally a strain of music floats out +... and occasionally a white garment glitters ... and I'd like to get +in and I can't. That's life, you see. And I've got to stand +miserably outside?" + +"Well, you don't impress me as such a miserable creature?" + +"No, no, in a way, not. On the coarser side, so to speak, I have a +good deal of fun. Out there around _Philippstrasse_ and +_Marienstrasse_ there are women enough--stylish and fine-looking and +everything you want. And my friends are great fellows, too. Every one +can stand his fifteen glasses ... I suppose I am an ass, and perhaps +it's only moral _katzenjammer_ on account of this past week. But when +I walk the streets and see the tall, distinguished houses and think of +all those people and their lives, yonder a millionaire, here a +minister of state, and think that, once upon a time, they were all +crude boys like myself--well, then I have the feeling as if I'd never +attain anything, but always remain what I am." + +"Well, my dear Fritz, the only remedy for that lies in that 'book-worm +business' as you call it. Sit down on your breeches and work!" + +"No, Herr von Niebeldingk, it isn't that either ... let me tell you. +Day before yesterday I was at the opera.... They sang the +_Götterddmmerung_.... You know, of course. There is _Siegfried_, a +fellow like myself, ... not more than twenty ... I sat upstairs in the +third row with two seamstresses. I'd picked them up in the +_Chausseestrasse_--cute little beasts, too.... But when _Brunhilde_ +stretched out her wonderful, white arms to him and sang: 'On to new +deeds, O hero!' why I felt like taking the two girls by the scruff of +the neck and pitching them down into the pit, I was so ashamed. +Because, you see, _Siegfried_ had his _Brunhilde_ who inspired him to +do great deeds. And what have I? ... A couple of hard cases picked up +in the street." + +"Afterwards, I suppose, you felt more reconciled?" + +"That shows how little you know me. I'd promised the girls supper. So +I had to eat with them. But when that was over I let 'em slide. I +ran about in the streets and just--howled!" + +"Very well, but what exactly are you after?" + +"That's what I don't know, Herr von Niebeldingk. Oh, if I knew! But +it's something quite indefinite--hard to think, hard to comprehend. +I'd like to howl with laughter and I don't know why ... to shriek, and +I don't know what about." + +"Blessed youth!" Niebeldingk thought, and looked at the enthusiastic +boy full of emotion. ... + +John, who was serving, announced that the florist's girl had come with +the Indian lilies. + +"Indian lilies, what sort of lilies are they?" asked Fritz overcome by +a hesitant admiration. + +"You'll see," Niebeldingk answered and ordered the girl to be +admitted. + +She struggled through the door, a half-grown thing with plump red +cheeks and smooth yellow hair. Diffident and frightened, she +nevertheless began to flirt with Fritz. In front of her she held the +long stems of the exotic lilies whose blossoms, like gigantic +narcissi, brooded in star-like rest over chaste and alien dreams. From +the middle of each chalice came a sharp, green shimmer which faded +gently along the petals of the flowers. + +"Confound it, but they're beautiful!" cried Fritz. "Surely they have +quite a peculiar significance." + +Niebeldingk arose, wrote the address without permitting John, who +stood in suspicious proximity, to throw a glance at it, handed cards +and flowers to the girl, gave her a tip, and escorted her to the +door himself. + +"So they do mean something special?" Fritz asked eagerly. He couldn't +get over his enthusiasm. + +"Yes, my boy." + +"And may one know...." + +"Surely, one may know. I give these lilies to that lady whose lofty +purity transcends all doubt--I give them as a symbol of my chaste and +desireless admiration." + +Fritz's eyes shone. + +"Ah, but I'd like to know a lady like that--some day!" he cried and +pressed his hands to his forehead. + +"That will come! That will come!" Niebeldingk tapped the youth's +shoulder calmingly. + +"Will you have some salad?" + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Around the hour of afternoon tea Niebeldingk, true to a dear, old +habit, went to see his friend. + +She inhabited a small second-floor apartment in the _Regentenstrasse_ +which he had himself selected for her when she came as a stranger to +Berlin. With flowers and palms and oriental rugs she had moulded a +delicious retreat, and before her bed-room windows the nightingales +sang in the springtime. + +She seemed to be expecting him. In the great, raised bay, separated +from the rest of the drawing-room by a thicket of dark leaves, the +stout tea-urn was already expectantly humming. + +In a bright, girlish dress, devoid of coquetry or pouting, Alice came +to meet him. + +"I'm glad you're here again, Richard." + +That was all. + +He wanted to launch out into the tale which he had meant to tell her, +but she cut him short. + +"Since when do I demand excuses, Richard? You come and there you are. +And if you don't come, I have to be content too." "You should really +be a little less tolerant," he warned her. + +"A blessed lot it would help me," she answered merrily. + +Gently she took his arm and led him to his old place. Then silently, +and with that restrained eagerness that characterised all her actions +she busied herself with the tea-urn. + +His critical and discriminating gaze followed her movements. With +swift, delicate gestures she pushed forward the Chinese dish, shook +the tea from the canister and poured the first drops of boiling water +through a sieve.... Her quick, bird-like head moved hither and +thither, and the bow of the orange-coloured ribbon which surrounded +her over-delicate neck trembled a little with every motion. + +"She really is the most charming of all," such was the end of his +reflections, "if only she weren't so damnably sensible." + +Silently she took her seat opposite him, folded her white hands in her +lap, and looked into his eyes with such significant archness that he +began to feel embarrassed. + +Had she any suspicion of his infidelities? + +Surely not. No jealous woman can look about her so calmly and +serenely. + +"What have you been doing all this time?" he asked. + +"I? Good heavens! Look about you and you'll see." + +She pointed to a heap of books which lay scattered over the window +seat and sewing table. + +There were Moltke's letters and the memoirs of von Schön, and Max +Müller's Aryan studies. Nor was the inevitable Schopenhauer lacking. + +"What are you after with all that learning?" he asked. + +"Ah, dear friend, what is one to do? One can't always be going about +in strange houses. Do you expect me to stand at the window and watch +the clouds float over the old city-wall?" + +He had the uncomfortable impression that she was quoting something +again. + +"My mood," she went on, "is in what Goethe calls the minor of the +soul. It is the yearning that reaches out afar and yet restrains +itself harmoniously within itself. Isn't that beautifully put?" + +"It may be, but it's too high for me!" In laughing self-protection, he +stretched out his arms toward her. + +"Don't make fun of me," she said, slightly shamed, and arose. + +"And what is the object of your yearning?" he asked in order to leave +the realm of Goethe as swiftly as possible. "Not you, you horrible +person," she answered and, for a moment, touched his hair with +her lips. + +"I know that, dearest," he said, "it's a long time since you've sent +me two notes a day." + +"And since you came to see me twice daily," she returned and gazed at +the floor with a sad irony. + +"We have both changed greatly, Alice." + +"We have indeed, Richard." + +A silence ensued. + +His eyes wandered to the opposite wall.... His own picture, framed in +silvery maple-wood, hung there.... Behind the frame appeared a bunch +of blossoms, long faded and shrivelled to a brownish, indistinguishable +heap. + +These two alone knew the significance of the flowers.... + +"Were you at least happy in those days, Alice?" + +"You know I am always happy, Richard." + +"Oh yes, yes; I know your philosophy. But I meant happy with me, +through me?" + +She stroked her delicate nose thoughtfully. The mocking expression +about the corners of her mouth became accentuated. + +"I hardly think so, Richard," she said after an interval. "I was too +much afraid of you ... I seemed so stupid in comparison to you and I +feared that you would despise me." "That fear, at least, you have +overcome very thoroughly?" he asked. + +"Not wholly, Richard. Things have only shifted their basis. Just as, +in those days, I felt ashamed of my ignorance, so now I feel +ashamed--no, that isn't the right word.... But all this stuff that I +store up in my head seems to weigh upon me in my relations with you. I +seem to be a nuisance with it.... You men, especially mature men like +yourself, seem to know all these things better, even when you don't +know them.... The precise form in which a given thought is presented +to us may be new to you, but the thought itself you have long +digested. It's for this reason that I feel intimidated whenever I +approach you with my pursuits. 'You might better have held your +peace,' I say to myself. But what am I to do? I'm so profoundly +interested!" + +"So you really need the society of a rather stupid fellow, one to whom +all this is new and who will furnish a grateful audience?" + +"Stupid? No," she answered, "but he ought to be inexperienced. He +ought himself to want to learn things.... He ought not to assume a +compassionate expression as who should say: 'Ah, my dear child, if you +knew what I know, and how indifferent all those things are to me!' ... +For these things are not indifferent, Richard, not to me, at +least.... And for the sake of the joy I take in them, you ..." + +"Strange how she sees through me," he reflected, "I wonder she clings +to me as she does." + +And while he was trying to think of something that might help her, the +dear boy came into his mind who had to-day divulged to him the sorrows +of youth and whom the unconscious desire for a higher plane of life +had driven weeping through the streets. + +"I know of some one for you." + +Her expression was serious. + +"You know of some one for me," she repeated with painful +deliberateness. + +"Don't misunderstand me. It's a playfellow, a pupil--something in the +nature of a pastime, anything you will." + +He told her the story of _Siegfried_ and the two seamstresses. + +She laughed heartily. + +"I was afraid you wanted to be rid of me," she said, laying her +forehead for a few moments against his sleeve. + +"Shame on you," he said, carelessly stroking her hair. "But what do +you think? Shall I bring the young fellow?" + +"You may very well bring him," she answered. There was a look of pain +about her mouth. "Doesn't one even train young poodles?" + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Three days later, at the same hour of the afternoon, the student, +Fritz von Ehrenberg entered Niebeldingk's study. + +"I have summoned you, dear friend, because I want to introduce you to +a charming young woman," Niebeldingk said, arising from his desk. + +"Now?" Fritz asked, sharply taken aback. + +"Why not?" + +"Why, I'd have to get my--my afternoon coat first and fix myself up a +bit. What is the lady to think of me?" + +"I'll take care of that. Furthermore, you probably know her, at least +by reputation." + +He mentioned the name of her husband which was known far and wide in +their native province. + +Fritz knew the whole story. + +"Poor lady!" he said. "Papa and Mama have often felt sorry for her. I +suppose her husband is still living." + +Niebeldingk nodded. + +"People all said that you were going to marry her." + +"Is _that_ what people said?" "Yes, and Papa thought it would be a +piece of great good fortune." + +"For whom?" + +"I beg your pardon, I suppose that was tactless, Herr von +Niebeldingk." + +"It was, dear Fritz.--But don't worry about it, just come." + +The introduction went smoothly. Fritz behaved as became the son of a +good family, was respectful but not stiff, and answered her friendly +questions briefly and to the point. + +"He's no discredit to me," Niebeldingk thought. + +As for Alice, she treated her young guest with a smiling, motherly +care which was new in her and which filled Niebeldingk with quiet +pleasure.... On other occasions she had assumed toward young men a +tone of wise, faint interest which meant clearly: "I will exhaust your +possibilities and then drop you." To-day she showed a genuine sympathy +which, though its purpose may have been to test him the more sharply, +seemed yet to bear witness to the pure and free humanity of her soul. + +She asked him after his parental home and was charmed with his naïve +rapture at escaping the psychical atmosphere of the cradle-songs of +his mother's house. She was also pleased with his attitude toward his +younger brothers and sisters, equally devoid, as it was, of +exaggeration or condescension. Everything about him seemed to her +simple and sane and full of ardour after information and maturity. + +Niebeldingk sat quietly in his corner ready, at need, to smooth over +any outbreak of uncouth youthfulness. But there was no occasion. Fritz +confined himself within the limits of modest liberty and used his mind +vigorously but with devout respect and delighted obedience. Once only, +when the question of the necessity of authority came up, did he +go far. + +"I don't give a hang for any authority," he said. "Even the mild +compulsion of what are called high-bred manners may go to the +deuce for me!" + +Niebeldingk was about to interfere with some reconciling remark when +he observed, to his astonishment, that Alice who, as a rule, was +bitterly hostile to all strident unconventionality, had taken +no offence. + +"Let him be, Niebeldingk," she said. "As far as he is concerned he is, +doubtless, in the right. And nothing would be more shameful than if +society were already to begin to make a featureless model boy of him." + +"That will never be, I swear to you, dear lady," cried Fritz all aglow +and stretching out his hands to ward off imaginary chains. +Niebeldingk smiled and thought: "So much the better for him." Then he +lit a fresh cigarette. + +The conversation turned to learned things. Fritz, paraphrasing +Tacitus, vented his hatred of the Latin civilisations. Alice agreed +with him and quoted Mme. de Staël. Niebeldingk arose, quietly meeting +the reproachful glance of his beloved. + +Fritz jumped up simultaneously, but Niebeldingk laughingly pushed him +back into his seat. + +"You just stay," he said, "our dear friend is only too eager to +slaughter a few more peoples." + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When he dropped in at Alice's a few days later he found her sitting, +hot-cheeked and absorbed, over Strauss's _Life of Jesus_. + +"Just fancy," she said, holding up her forehead for his kiss, "that +young poodle of yours is making me take notice. He gives me +intellectual nuts to crack. It's strange how this young generation--" + +"I beg of you, Alice," he interrupted her, "you are only a very few +years his senior." + +"That may be so," she answered, "but the little education I have +derives from another epoch.... I am, metaphysically, as unexacting as +the people of your generation. A certain fogless freedom of thought +seemed to me until to-day the highest point of human development." + +"And Fritz von Ehrenberg, student of agriculture, has converted you to +a kind of thoughtful religiosity?" he asked, smiling good-naturedly. + +In her zeal she wasn't even aware of his irony. + +"We're not going to give in so easily.... But it is strange what an +impression is made on one by a current of strong and natural +feeling.... This young fellow comes to me and says: 'There is a God, +for I feel Him and I need Him. Prove the contrary if you can.' ... +Well, so I set about proving the contrary to him. But our poor +negations have become so glib that one has forgotten the reasons for +them. Finally he defeated me along the whole line ... so I sat down at +once and began to study up ... just as one would polish rusty weapons +... Bible criticism and DuBois-Reymond and 'Force and Matter' and all +the things that are traditionally irrefutable." + +"And that amuses you?" he asked compassionately. + +A theoretical indignation took hold of her that always amused him +greatly. + +"Does it amuse me? Are such things proper subjects for amusement? +Surely you must use other expressions, Richard, when one is concerned +for the most sacred goods of humanity...." + +"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't mean to touch those things +irreverently." + +She stroked his arm softly, thus dumbly asking forgiveness in her +turn. + +"But now," she continued, "I am equipped once more, and when he comes +to-morrow--" + +"So he's coming to-morrow?" + +"Naturally, ... then you will see how I'll send him home sorely +whipped ... I can defeat him with Kant's antinomies alone.... And +when it comes to what people call 'revelation,' well! ... But I assure +you, my dear one, I'm not very happy defending this icy, nagging +criticism.... To be quite sincere, I would far rather be on his side. +Warmth is there and feeling and something positive to support one. +Would you like some tea?" + +"Thanks, no, but some brandy." + +Rapidly brushing the waves of hair from her drawn forehead she ran +into the next room and returned with the bottle bearing three stars on +its label from which she herself took a tiny drop occasionally--"when +my mind loses tone for study" as she was wont to say in +self-justification. + +A crimson afterglow, reflected from the walls of the houses opposite, +filled the little drawing-room in which the mass of feminine ornaments +glimmered and glittered. + +"I've really become quite a stranger here," he thought, regarding all +these things with the curiosity of one who has come after an absence. +From each object hung, like a dewdrop, the memory of some +exquisite hour. + +"You look about you so," Alice said with an undertone of anxiety in +her voice, "don't you like it here any longer?" + +"What are you thinking of," he exclaimed, "I like it better daily." +She was about to reply but fell silent and looked into space with a +smile of wistful irony. + +"If I except the _Life of Jesus_ and the Kantian--what do you call the +things?" + +"Antinomies." + +"Aha--_anti_ and _nomos_--I understand--well, if I except these dusty +superfluities, I may say that your furnishings are really faultless. +The quotations from Goethe are really more appropriate, although I +could do without them." + +"I'll have them swept out," she said in playful submission. + +"You are a dear girl," he said playfully and passed his hand +caressingly over her severely combed hair. + +She grasped his arm with both hands and remained motionless for a +moment during which her eyes fastened themselves upon his with a +strangely rigid gleam. + +"What evil have I done?" he asked. "Do you remember our childhood's +verse: 'I am small, my heart is pure?' Have mercy on me." + +"I was only playing at passion," she said with the old half-wistful, +half-mocking smile, "in order that our relations may not lose solid +ground utterly." + +"What do you mean?" he asked, pretending astonishment. "And do you +really think, Richard, that between us, things, being as they +are--are right?" + +"I can't imagine any change that could take place at present." + +She hid a hot flush of shame. She was obviously of the opinion that he +had interpreted her meaning in the light of a desire for marriage. All +earthly possibilities had been discussed between them: this one alone +had been sedulously avoided in all their conversations. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he continued, determined to skirt the +dangerous subject with grace and ease, "there's no question here of +anything external, of any change of front with reference to the world. +It's far too late for that. ... Let us remain--if I may so put it--in +our spiritual four walls. Given our characters or, I had better say, +given your character I see no other relation between us that promises +any permanence.... If I were to pursue you with a kind of infatuation, +or you me with jealousy--it would be insupportable to us both." + +She did not reply but gently rolled and unrolled the narrow, blue silk +scarf of her gown. + +"As it is, we live happily and at peace," he went on, "Each of us has +liberty and an individual existence and yet we know how deeply rooted +our hearts are in each other." + +She heaved a sigh of painful oppression. "Aren't you content?" he +asked, + +"For heaven's sake! Surely!" Her voice was frightened, "No one could +be more content than I. If only----" + +"Well--what?" + +"If only it weren't for the lonely evenings!" + +A silence ensued. This was a sore point and had always been. He knew +it well. But he had to have his evenings to himself. There was nothing +to be done about that. + +"You musn't think me immodest in my demands," she went on in hasty +exculpation. "I'm not even aiming my remarks at you ... I'm only +thinking aloud.... But you see, I can't get any real foothold in +society until--until my affairs are more clarified.... To run about +the drawing-rooms as an example of frivolous heedlessness--that's not +my way.... I can always hear them whisper behind me: 'She doesn't take +it much to heart, that shows ...' No, I'd rather stay at home. I have +no friends either and what chance had I to make them? You were always +my one and only friend.... My books remain. And that's very well by +day ... but when the lamps are lit I begin to throb and ache and run +about ... and I listen for the trill of the door-bell. But no one +comes, nothing--except the evening paper. And that's only in winter. +Now it's brought before dusk. And in the end there's nothing worth +while in it.... And so life goes day after day. At last one creeps +into bed at half-past nine and, of course, has a wretched night." + +"Well, but how am I to help you, dear child?" he asked thoughtfully. +He was touched by her quiet, almost serene complaint. "If we took to +passing our evenings together, scandal would soon have us by the +throat, and then--woe to you!" + +Her eager eyes gazed bravely at him. + +"Well," she said at last, "suppose----" + +"What?" + +"Never mind. I don't want you to think me unwomanly. And what I've +been describing to you is, after all, only a symptom. There's a kind +of restlessness in me that I can't explain.... If I were of a less +active temper, things would be better.... It sounds paradoxical, but +just because I have so much activity in me, do I weary so quickly. +Goethe said once----" + +He raised his hands in laughing protest. + +She was really frightened. + +"Ah, yes, forgive me," she cried. "All that was to be swept out.... +How forgetful one can be...." + +Smiling, she leaned her head against his shoulder and was not to be +persuaded from her silence. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +"There are delicate boundaries within the realm of the eternal +womanly,"--thus Niebeldingk reflected next day,--"in which one is +sorely puzzled as to what one had better put into an envelope: a poem +or a cheque." + +His latest adventure--the cause of these reflections--had blossomed, +the evening before, like the traditional rose on the dungheap. + +One of his friends who had travelled about the world a good deal and +who now assumed the part of the full-blown Parisian, had issued +invitations to a house-warming in his new bachelor-apartment. He had +invited a number of his gayer friends and ladies exclusively from +so-called artistic circles. So far all was quite Parisian. Only the +journalists who might, next morning, have proclaimed the glory of the +festivity to the world--these were excluded. Berlin, for various +reasons, did not seem an appropriate place for that. + +It was a rather dreary sham orgy. Even chaperones were present. +Several ladies had carefully brought them and they could scarcely be +put out. Other ladies even thought it incumbent upon them to ask after +the wives of the gentlemen present and to turn up their noses when it +appeared that these were conspicuous by their absence. It was upon +this occasion, however, that some beneficent chance assigned to +Niebeldingk a sighing blonde who remained at his side all evening. + +Her name was Meta, she belonged to one of the "best families" of +Posen, she lived in Berlin with her mother who kept a boarding house +for ladies of the theatre. She herself nursed the ardent desire to +dedicate herself to art, for "the ideal" had always been the guiding +star of her existence. + +At the beginning of supper she expressed herself with a fine +indignation concerning the ladies present into whose midst--she +assured him eagerly--she had fallen through sheer accident. Later she +thawed out, assumed a friendly companionableness to these despised +individuals and, in order to raise Niebeldingk's delight to the +highest point, admitted with maidenly frankness the indescribable and +mysterious attraction toward him which she had felt at the +first glance. + +Of course, her principles were impregnable. He mustn't doubt that. She +would rather seek a moist death in the waves than.... and so forth. +Although she made this solemn proclamation over the dessert, the +consequence of it all was an intimate visit to Niebeldingk's dwelling +which came to a bitter sweet end at three o'clock in the morning with +gentle tears concerning the wickedness of men in general and of +himself in particular.... + +An attack of _katzenjammer_--such as is scarcely ever spared worldly +people of forty--threw a sobering shadow upon this event. The shadow +crept forward too, and presaged annoyance. + +He was such an old hand now, and didn't even know into what category +she really fitted. Was it, after all, impossible that behind all this +frivolity the desire to take up the struggle for existence on cleanly +terms stuck in her little head? + +At all events he determined to spare the possible wounding of outraged +womanliness and to wait before putting any final stamp upon the nature +of their relations. Hence he set out to play the tender lover by means +of the well-tried device of a bunch of Indian lilies. + +When he was about to give the order for the flowers to John who +always, upon these occasions, assumed a conscientiously stupid +expression, a new doubt overcame him. + +Was he not desecrating the gift which had brought consolation and +absolution to many a remorseful heart, by sending it to a girl who, +for all he knew, played a sentimental part only as a matter of decent +form? ... Wasn't there grave danger of her assuming an undue +self-importance when she felt that she was taken tragically? + +"Well, what did it matter? ... A few flowers! ..." + +Early on the evening of the next day Meta reappeared. She was dressed +in sombre black. She wept persistently and made preparations to stay. + +Niebeldingk gave her to understand that, in the first place, he had no +more time for her that evening, and that, in the second place, she +would do well to go home at a proper hour and spare herself the +reproaches of her mother. + +"Oh, my little mother, my little mother," she wailed. "How shall I +ever present myself to her sight again? Keep me, my beloved! I can +never approach my, mother again." + +He rang for his hat and gloves. + +When she saw that he was serious she wept a few more perfunctory tears +and went. + +Her visits repeated themselves and didn't become any more delightful. +On the contrary ... the heart-broken maiden gave him to understand +that her lost honour could be restored only by the means of a speedy +marriage. This exhausted his patience. He saw that he had been +thoroughly taken in and so, observing all necessary considerateness, +he sent her definitely about her business. + +Next day the "little mother" appeared on the scene. She was a +dignified woman of fifty, equipped as the Genius of Vengeance, +exceedingly glib of tongue and by no means sentimental. + +As she belonged to one of the first families of Posen, it was her duty +to lay particular stress upon the honour of her daughter whom he had +lured to his house and there wickedly seduced. ... She was prepared to +repel any overtures toward a compromise. She belonged to one of the +best families of Posen and was not prepared to sell her daughter's +virtue. The only possible way of adjusting the matter was an +immediate marriage. + +Thereupon she began to scream and scold and John, who acted as master +of ceremonies, escorted her with a patronising smile to the door.... + +Next came the visits of an old gentleman in a Prince Albert and the +ribbon of some decoration in his button-hole.--John had strict orders +to admit no strangers. But the old gentleman was undaunted. He came +morning, noon and night and finally settled down on the stairs where +Niebeldingk could not avoid meeting him. He was the uncle of Miss +Meta, a former servant of the government and a knight of several +honourable orders. As such it was his duty to demand the immediate +restitution of his niece's honour, else--Niebeldingk simply turned his +back and the knight of several honourable orders trotted, grumbling, +down the stairs. + +Up to this point Niebeldingk had striven to regard the whole business +in a humorous light. It now began It now began to promise serious +annoyance. He told the story at his club and the men laughed +boisterously, but no one knew anything to the detriment of Miss Meta. +She had been introduced by a lady who played small parts at a large +theatre and important parts at a small one. The lady was called to +account for her protegee. She refused to speak. + +"It's all the fault of those accursed Indian lilies," Niebeldingk +grumbled one afternoon at his window as he watched the knight of +various honourable orders parade the street as undaunted as ever. "Had +I treated her with less delicacy, she would never have risked playing +the part of an innocent victim." + +At that moment John announced Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +The boy came in dressed in an admirably fitting summer suit. He was +radiant with youth and strength, victory gleamed in his eye; a hymn of +victory seemed silently singing on his lips. + +"Well Fritz, you seem merry," said Niebeldingk and patted the boy's +shoulder. He could not suppress a smile of sad envy. + +"Don't ask me! Why shouldn't I be happy? Life is so beautiful, yes, +beautiful. Only you musn't have any dealings with women. That plays +the deuce with one." + +"You don't know yourself how right you are," Niebeldingk sighed, +looking out of the corner of an eye at the knight of several +honourable orders who had now taken up his station in the shelter of +the house opposite. + +"Oh, but I do know it," Fritz answered. "If I could describe to you +the contempt with which I regard my former mode of life ... everything +is different ... different ... so much purer ... nobler ... I'm +absolutely a stoic now.... And that gives one a feeling of such peace, +such serenity! And I have you to thank for it, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +"I don't understand that. To teach in the _stoa_ is a new employment +for me." + +"Well, didn't you introduce me to that noble lady? Wasn't it you?" + +"Aha," said Niebeldingk. The image of Alice, smiling a gentle +reproach, arose before him. + +In the midst of this silly and sordid business that had overtaken him, +he had almost lost sight of her. More than a week had passed since he +had crossed her threshold. + +"How is the dear lady?" he asked. + +"Oh, splendid," Fritz said, "just splendid." + +"Have you seen her often?" + +"Certainly," Fritz replied, "we're reading Marcus Aurelius together +now." + +"Thank heaven," Niebeldingk laughed, "I see that she's well taken care +of." + +He made up his mind to see her within the next hour. + +Fritz who had only come because he needed to overflow to some one with +the joy of life that was in him, soon started to go. + +At the door he turned and said timidly and with downcast eyes. + +"I have one request to make----" + +"Fire away, Fritz! How much?" + +"Oh, I don't need money ... I'd like to have the address of your +florist ...I'd like to send to the dear lady a bunch of the ... the +Indian lilies." + +"What? Are you mad?" Niebeldingk cried. + +"Why do you ask that?" Fritz was hurt. "May I not also send that +symbol to a lady whose purity and loftiness of soul I reverence. I +suppose I'm old enough!" + +"I see. You're quite right. Forgive me." Niebeldingk bit his lips and +gave the lad the address. + +Fritz thanked him and went. + +Niebeldingk gave way to his mirth and called for his hat. He wanted to +go to her at once. But--for better or worse--he changed his mind, for +yonder in the gateway, unabashed, stood the knight of several +honourable orders. + + + + +Chapter VII + + +To be sure, one can't stand eternally in a gateway. Finally the knight +deserted his post and vanished into a sausage shop. The hour had come +when even the most glowing passion of revenge fades gently into a +passion for supper. + +Niebeldingk who had waited behind his curtain, half-amused, +half-bored--for in the silent, distinguished street where everyone +knew him a scandal was to be avoided at any cost--Niebeldingk hastened +to make up for his neglect at once. + +The dark fell. Here and there the street-lamps flickered through the +purple air of the summer dusk.... + +The maid who opened the door looked at him with cool astonishment as +though he were half a stranger who had the audacity to pay a call at +this intimate hour. + +"That means a scolding," he thought. + +But he was mistaken. + +Smiling quietly, Alice arose from the couch where she had been sitting +by the light of a shaded lamp and stretched out her hand with all her +old kindliness. The absence of the otherwise inevitable book was the +only change that struck him. + +"We haven't seen each other for a long time," he said, making a +wretched attempt at an explanation. + +"Is it so long?" she asked frankly. + +"Thank you for your gentle punishment." He kissed her hand. Then he +chatted, more or less at random, of disagreeable business matters, of +preparations for a journey, and so forth. + +"So you are going away?" she asked tensely. + +The word had escaped him, he scarcely knew how. Now that he had +uttered it, however, he saw very clearly that nothing better remained +for him to do than to carry the casual thought into action.... Here he +passed a fruitless, enervating life, slothful, restless and +humiliating; at home there awaited him light, useful work, dreamless +sleep, and the tonic sense of being the master. + +All that, in other days, held him in Berlin, namely, this modest, +clever, flexible woman had almost passed from his life. Steady neglect +had done its work. If he went now, scarcely the smallest gap would be +torn into the fabric of his life. + +Or did it only seem so? Was she more deeply rooted in his heart than +he had ever confessed even to himself? They were both silent. She +stood very near him and sought to read the answer to her question in +his eyes. A kind of anxious joy appeared upon her slightly +worn features. + +"I'm needed at home," he said at last. "It is high time for me. If you +desire I'll look after your affairs too." + +"Mine? Where?" + +"Well, I thought we were neighbours there--more than here. Or have you +forgotten the estate?" + +"Let us leave aside the matter of being neighbours," she answered, +"and I don't suppose that I have much voice in the management of the +estate as long as--he lives. The guardians will see to that." + +"But you could run down there once in a while ... in the summer for +instance. Your place is always ready for you. I saw to that." + +"Ah, yes, you saw to that." The wistful irony that he had so often +noted was visible again. + +For the first time he understood its meaning. + +"She has made things too easy for me," he reflected. "I should have +felt my chains. Then, too, I would have realised what I possessed +in her." + +But did he not still possess her? What, after all, had changed since +those days of quiet companionship? Why should he think of her as +lost to him? + +He could not answer this question. But he felt a dull restlessness. A +sense of estrangement told him: All is not here as it was. + +"Since when do you live in dreams, Alice?" he asked, surveying the +empty table by which he had found her. + +His question had been innocent, but it seemed to carry a sting. She +blushed and looked past him. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Good heavens, to sit all evening without books and let the light burn +in vain--that was not your wont heretofore." + +"Oh, that's it. Ah well, one can't be poking in books all the time. +And for the past few days my eyes have been aching." + +"With secret tears?" he teased. + +She gave him a wide, serious look. + +"With secret tears," she repeated. + +"_Ah perfido_!" he trilled, in order to avoid the scene which he +feared ... But he was on the wrong scent. She herself interrupted him +with the question whether he would stay to supper. + +He was curious to find the causes of the changes that he felt here. +For that reason and also because he was not without compunction, he +consented to stay. + +She rang and ordered a second cover to be laid. + +Louise looked at her mistress with a disapproving glance and went. + +"Dear me," he laughed, "the servants are against me ... I am lost." + +"You have taken to noticing such things very recently." She gave a +perceptible shrug. + +"When a wife tells a husband of his newly acquired habits, he is +doubly lost," he answered and gave her his arm. + +The silver gleamed on the table ... the tea-kettle puffed out delicate +clouds ... exquisitely tinted apples, firm as in Autumn, smiled +at him. + +A word of admiration escaped him. And then, once more, he saw that +tragic smile on her lips--sad, wistful, almost compassionate. + +"My darling," he said with sudden tenderness and caressed her +shoulder. + +She nodded and smiled. That was all. + +At table her mood was an habitual one. Perhaps she was a trifle +gentler. He attributed that to his approaching departure. + +She drank a glass of Madeira at the beginning of the meal, the light +Rhine wine she took in long, thirsty draughts, she even touched the +brandy at the meal's end. + +An inner fire flared in her. He suspected that, he felt it. She had +touched no food. But she permitted nothing to appear on the surface. +On the contrary, the emotional warmth that she had shown earlier +disappeared. The play of her thoughts grew cooler, clearer, more +cutting, the longer she talked. + +Twice or thrice quotations from Goethe were about to escape her, but +she did not utter them. Smiling she tapped her own lips. + +When he observed that she was really restraining a genuine impulse he +begged her to consider the protest he had once uttered as merely a +jest, perhaps even an ill-considered one. But she said: "Let be, it +is as well." + +They conversed, as they had often done, of the perished days of their +old love. They spoke like two beings who have long conquered all the +struggles of the heart and who, in the calm harbour of friendship, +regard with equanimity the storms which they have weathered. + +This way of speaking had gradually, and with a kind of jocular +moroseness, crept into their intercourse. The exciting thing about it +was the silent reservation felt by both: We know how different things +could be, so soon as we desired. To-day, for the first time, this +game at renunciation seemed to become serious. + +"How strange!" he thought. "Here we sit who are dearest to each other +in all the world and a kind of futile arrogance drives us farther and +farther apart." + +Alice arose. + +He kissed her, as was his wont, upon hand and forehead and noted how +she turned aside with a slight shiver. Then suddenly she took his head +in both her hands and kissed him full on the lips with a kind of +desperate eagerness. + +"Ah," he cried, "what is that? It's more than I have a right to +expect." + +"Forgive me," she said, withdrawing herself at once. "We're poverty +stricken folk and haven't much to give each other." + +"After what I have just experienced, I'm inclined to believe the +contrary." + +But she seemed little inclined to draw the logical consequences of her +action. Quietly she gave him his wonted cigarette, lit her own, and +sat down in her old place. With rounded lips she blew little clouds of +smoke against the table-cover. + +"Whenever I regard you in this manner," he said, carefully feeling his +way, "it always seems to me that you have some silent reservation, as +though you were waiting for something." "It may be," she answered, +blushing anew, "I sit by the way-side, like the man in the story, and +think of the coming of my fate." + +"Fate? What fate?" + +"Ah, who can tell, dear friend? That which one foresees is no longer +one's fate!" + +"Perhaps it's just the other way." + +She drew back sharply and looked past him in tense thoughtfulness. +"Perhaps you are right," she said, with a little mysterious sigh. "It +may be as you say." + +He was no wiser than he had been. But since he held it beneath his +dignity to assume the part of the jealous master, he abandoned the +search for her secrets with a shrug. The secrets could be of no great +importance. No one knew better than himself the moderateness of her +desires, no lover, in calm possession of his beloved, had so little to +fear as he.... + +They discussed their plans for the Summer. He intended to go to the +North Sea in Autumn, an old affection attracted her to Thuringia. The +possibility of their meeting was touched only in so far as courtesy +demanded it. + +And once more silence fell upon the little drawing-room. Through the +twilight an old, phantastic Empire clock announced the hurrying +minutes with a hoarse tick. + +In other days a magical mood had often filled this room--the presage +of an exquisite flame and its happy death. All that had vibrated here. +Nothing remained. They had little to say to each other. That was what +time had left. + +He played thoughtfully with his cigarette. She stared into nothingness +with great, dreamy eyes. + +And suddenly she began to weep ... + +He almost doubted his own perception, but the great glittering tears +ran softly down her smiling face. + +But he was satiated with women's tears. In the fleeting amatory +adventures of the past weeks and months, he had seen so many--some +genuine, some sham, all superfluous. And so instead of consoling her, +he conceived a feeling of sarcasm and nausea: "Now even she +carries on!".... + +The idea did indeed flash into his mind that this moment might be +decisive and pregnant with the fate of the future, but his horror of +scenes and explanations restrained him. + +Wearily he assumed the attitude of one above the storms of the soul +and sought a jest with which to recall her to herself. But before he +found it she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and slipped from +the room. + +"So much the better," he thought and lit a fresh cigarette, "If she +lets her passion spend itself in silence it will pass the +more swiftly." + +Walking up and down he indulged in philosophic reflections concerning +the useless emotionality of woman, and the duty of man not to be +infected by it ... He grew quite warm in the proud consciousness of +his heart's coldness. + +Then suddenly--from the depth of the silence that was about +him--resounded in a long-drawn, shrill, whirring voice that he had +never heard--his own name. + +"Rrricharrd!" it shrilled, stern and hard as the command of some +paternal martinet. The voice seemed to come from subterranean depths. + +He shivered and looked about. Nothing moved. There was no living soul +in the next room. + +"Richard!" the voice sounded a second time. This time the sound seemed +but a few paces from him, but it arose from the ground as though a +teasing goblin lay under his chair. + +He bent over and peered into dark corners. + +The mystery was solved: Joko, Alice's parrot, having secretly stolen +from his quarters, sat on the rung of a chair and played the evil +conscience of the house. + +The tame animal stepped with dignity upon his outstretched hand and +permitted itself to be lifted into the light.... Its glittering +neck-feathers stood up, and while it whetted its beak on Niebeldingk's +cuff-links, it repeated in a most subterranean voice: "Richard!" + +And suddenly the dear feeling of belonging here, of being at home came +over Niebeldingk. He had all but lost it. But its gentle power drew +him on and refreshed him. + +It was his right and his duty to be at home here where a dear woman +lived so exclusively for him that the voice of her yearning sounded +even from the tongue of the brute beast that she possessed! There was +no possibility of feeling free and alien here. + +"I must find her!" he thought quickly, "I musn't leave her alone +another second." + +He set Joko carefully on the table and sought to reach her bed-room +which he had never entered by this approach. + +In the door that led to the rear hall she met him. Her demeanour had +its accustomed calm, her eyes were clear and dry. + +"My poor, dear darling!" he cried and wanted to take her in his arms. + +A strange, repelling glance met him and interrupted his beautiful +emotion. Something hardened in him and he felt a new inclination +to sarcasm. + +"Forgive me for leaving you," she said, "one must have patience with +the folly of my sex. You know that well." + +And she preceded him to his old place. + +Screaming with pleasure Joko flew forward to meet her, and Niebeldingk +remained standing to take his leave. + +She did not hold him back. + +Outside it occurred to him that he hadn't told her the anecdote of +Fritz and the Indian lilies. + +"It's a pity," he thought, "it might have cheered her." ... + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +Next morning Niebeldingk sat at his desk and reflected with +considerable discomfort on the experience of the previous evening. +Suddenly he observed, across the street, restlessly waiting in the +same doorway--the avenging spirit! + +It was an opportune moment. It would distract him to make an example +of the fellow. Nothing better could have happened. + +He rang for John and ordered him to bring up the wretched fellow and, +furthermore, to hold himself in readiness for an act of vigorous +expulsion. + +Five minutes passed. Then the door opened and, diffidently, but with a +kind of professional dignity, the knight of several honourable orders +entered the room. + +Niebeldingk made rapid observations: A beardless, weatherworn old face +with pointed, stiff, white brows. The little, watery eyes knew how to +hide their cunning, for nothing was visible in them save an expression +of wonder and consternation. The black frock coat was threadbare but +clean, his linen was spotless. He wore a stock which had been the +last word of fashion at the time of the July revolution. + +"A sharper of the most sophisticated sort," Niebeldingk concluded. + +"Before any discussion takes place," he said sharply. "I must know +with whom I am dealing." + +The old man drew off with considerable difficulty his torn, gray, +funereal gloves and, from the depths of a greasy pocket-book, produced +a card which had, evidently, passed through a good many hands. + +"A sharper," Niebeldingk repeated to himself, "but on a pretty low +plane." He read the card: "Kohleman, retired clerk of court." And +below was printed the addition: "Knight of several orders." + +"What decorations have you?" he asked. + +"I have been very graciously granted the Order of the Crown, fourth +class, and the general order for good behaviour." + +"Sit down," Niebeldingk replied, impelled by a slight instinctive +respect. + +"Thank you, I'll take the liberty," the old gentleman answered and sat +down on the extreme edge of a chair. + +"Once on the stairs you--" he was about to say "attacked me," but he +repressed the words. "I know," he began, "what your business is. +And now tell me frankly: Do you think any man in the world such a fool +as to contemplate marriage because a frivolous young thing whose +acquaintance he made at a supper given to 'cocottes' accompanies him, +in the middle of the night, to his bachelor quarters? Do you think +that a reasonable proposition?" + +"No," the old gentleman answered with touching honesty. "But you know +it's pretty discouraging to have Meta get into that kind of a mess. +I've had my suspicions for some time that that baggage is a keener, +and I've often said to my sister: 'Look here, these theatrical women +are no proper company for a girl--'" + +"Well then," Niebeldingk exclaimed, overcome with astonishment, "if +that's the case, what are you after?" + +"I?" the old gentleman quavered and pointed a funereal glove at his +breast, "I? Oh, dear sakes alive! I'm not after anything. Do you +imagine, my dear sir, that I get any fun out of tramping up and down +in front of your house on my old legs? I'd rather sit in a corner and +leave strange people to their own business. But what can I do? I live +in my sister's house, and I do pay her a little board, for I'd never +take a present, not a penny--that was never my way. But what I pay +isn't much, you know, and so I have to make myself a bit useful in the +boarding-house. The ladies have little errands, you know. And they're +quite nice, too, except that they get as nasty as can be if their +rooms aren't promptly cleaned in the morning, and so I help with the +dusting, too ... If only it weren't for my asthma ... I tell, you, +asthma, my dear sir--" + +He stopped for an attack of coughing choked him. + +With a sudden kindly emotion Niebeldingk regarded the terrible avenger +in horror of whom he had lived four mortal days. He told him to +stretch his poor old legs and asked him whether he'd like a glass +of Madeira. + +The old gentleman's face brightened. If it would surely give no +trouble he would take the liberty of accepting. + +Niebeldingk rang and John entered with a grand inquisitorial air. He +recoiled when he saw the monster so comfortable and, for the first +time in his service, permitted himself a gentle shake of the head. + +The old gentleman emptied his glass in one gulp and wiped his mouth +with a brownish cotton handkerchief. Fragments of tobacco flew about. +He looked so tenderly at the destroyer of his family as though he had +a sneaking desire to join the enemy. + +"Well, well," he began again. "What's to be done? If my sister takes +something into her head.... And anyhow, I'll tell you in confidence, +she is a devil. Oh deary me, what I have to put up with from her! It's +no good getting into trouble with her! ... If you want to avoid any +unpleasantness, I can only advise you to consent right away.... You +can back out later.... But that would be the easiest way." + +Niebeldingk laughed heartily. + +"Yes, you can laugh," the old gentleman said sadly, "that's because +you don't know my sister." + +"But _you_ know her, my dear man. And do you suppose that she may have +other, that is to say, financial aims, while she----" + +The old gentleman looked at him with great scared eyes. + +"How do you mean?" he said and crushed the brown handkerchief in his +hollow hand. + +"Well, well, well," Niebeldingk quieted him and poured a reconciling +second glass of wine. + +But he wasn't to be bribed. + +"Permit me, my dear sir," he said, "but you misunderstand me +entirely.... Even if I do help my sister in the house, and even if I +do go on errands, I would never have consented to go on such an +one.... I said to my sister: It's marriage or nothing.... We don't go +in for blackmail, of that you may be sure." "Well, my dear man," +Niebeldingk laughed, "If that's the alternative, then--nothing!" + +The old gentleman grew quite peaceable again. + +"Goodness knows, you're quite right. But you will have +unpleasantnesses, mark my word. ... And if she has to appeal to the +Emperor, my sister said. And my sister--I mention it quite in +confidence--my sister--" + +"Is a devil, I understand." + +"Exactly." + +He laughed slyly as one who is getting even with an old enemy and +drank, with every evidence of delight, the second glassful of wine. + +Niebeldingk considered. Whether unfathomable stupidity or equally +unfathomable sophistication lay at the bottom of all this--the +business was a wretched one. It was just such an affair as would be +dragged through every scandal mongering paper in the city, thoroughly +equipped, of course, with the necessary moral decoration. He could +almost see the heavy headlines: Rascality of a Nobleman. + +"Yes, yes, my dear fellow," he said, and patted the terrible enemy's +shoulder, "I tell you it's a dog's life. If you can avoid it any +way--never go in for fast living." + +The old gentleman shook his gray head sadly. + +"That's all over," he declared, "but twenty years ago--" +Niebeldingk cut short the approaching confidences. + +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked. "And what will your +sister do when you come home and announce my refusal?" + +"I'll tell you, Baron. In fact, my sister required that I _should_ +tell you, because that is to--" he giggled--"that is to have a +profound effect. We've got a nephew, I must tell you, who's a +lieutenant in the army. Well, he is to come at once and challenge you +to a duel.... Well, now, a duel is always a pretty nasty piece of +business. First, there's the scandal, and then, one _might_ get hurt. +And so my sister thought that you'd rather----" + +"Hold on, my excellent friend," said Niebeldingk and a great weight +rolled from his heart. "You have an officer in your family? That's +splendid ... I couldn't ask anything better ... You wire him at once +and tell him that I'll be at home three days running and ready to give +him the desired explanations. I'm sorry for the poor fellow for being +mixed up in such a stupid mess, but I can't help him." + +"Why do you feel sorry for him?" the old gentleman asked. "He's as +good a marksman as you are." + +"Assuredly," Niebeldingk returned. "Assuredly a better one.... Only it +won't come to that." + +He conducted his visitor with great ceremony into the outer hall. + +The latter remained standing for a moment in the door. He grasped +Niebeldingk's hand with overflowing friendliness. + +"My dear baron, you have been so nice to me and so courteous. Permit +me, in return, to offer you an old man's counsel: Be more careful +about flowers!" + +"What flowers?" + +"Well, you sent a great, costly bunch of them. That's what first +attracted my sister's attention. And when my sister gets on the track +of anything, well!" ... + +He shook with pleasure at the sly blow he had thus delivered, drew +those funereal gloves of his from the crown of his hat and took +his leave. + +"So it was the fault of the Indian lilies," Niebeldingk thought, +looking after the queer old knight with an amused imprecation. That +gentleman, enlivened by the wine he had taken, pranced with a new +flexibility along the side-walk. "Like the count in _Don Juan_," +Niebeldingk thought, "only newly equipped and modernised." + +The intervention of the young officer placed the whole affair upon +an intelligible basis. It remained only to treat it with entire +seriousness. Niebeldingk, according to his promise, remained at home +until sunset for three boresome days. On the morning of the fourth he +wrote a letter to the excellent old gentleman telling him that he was +tired of waiting and requesting an immediate settlement of the +business in question. Thereupon he received the following answer: + +"SIR:-- + +In the name of my family I declare to you herewith that I give you +over to the well-deserved contempt of your fellowmen. A man who can +hesitate to restore the honour of a loving and yielding girl is not +worthy of an alliance with our family. Hence we now sever any further +connection with you. + +With that measure of esteem which you deserve, + +I am, + +KOHLEMAN, _Retired Clerk of Court_. + +Knight S.H.O. + +P.S. + +Best regards. Don't mind all that talk. The duel came to nothing. Our +little lieutenant besought us not to ruin him and asked that his name +be not mentioned. He has left town." + +Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Niebeldingk threw the letter aside. + +Now that the affair was about to float into oblivion, he became +aware of the fact that it had weighed most heavily upon him. + +And he began to feel ashamed. + +He, a man who, by virtue of his name and of his wealth and, if he +would be bold, by virtue of his intellect, was able to live in some +noble and distinguished way--he passed his time with banalities that +were half sordid and half humorous. These things had their place. +Youth might find them not unfruitful of experience. They degraded a +man of forty. + +If these things filled his life to-day, then the years of training and +slow maturing had surely gone for nothing. And what would become of +him if he carried these interests into his old age? His schoolmates +were masters of the great sciences, distinguished servants of the +government, influential politicians. They toiled in the sweat of their +brows and harvested the fruits of their youth's sowing. + +He strove to master these discomforting thoughts, but every moment +found him more defenceless against them. + +And shame changed into disgust. + +To divert himself he went out into the streets and landed, finally, in +the rooms of his club. Here he was asked concerning his latest +adventure. Only a certain respect which his personality inspired saved +him from unworthy jests. And in this poverty-stricken world, where +the very lees of experience amounted to a sensation--here he +wasted his days. + +It must not last another week, not another day. So much suddenly grew +clear to him. + +He hurried away. Upon the streets brooded the heat of early summer. +Masses of human beings, hot but happy, passed him in silent activity. + +What was he to do? + +He must marry: that admitted of no doubt. In the glow of his own +hearth he must begin a new and more tonic life. + +Marry? But whom? A worn out heart can no longer be made to beat more +swiftly at the sight of some slim maiden. The senses might yet be +stirred, but that is all. + +Was he to haunt watering-places and pay court to mothers on the +man-hunt in order to find favour in their daughters' eyes? Was he to +travel from estate to estate and alienate the affection of young +_chatelaines_ from their favourite lieutenants? + +Impossible! + +He went home hopelessly enough and drowsed away the hours of the +afternoon behind drawn blinds on a hot couch. + +Toward evening the postman brought a letter--in Alice's hand. +Alice! How could he have forgotten her! His first duty should have +been to see her. + +He opened the envelope, warmly grateful for her mere existence. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +As you will probably not find time before you leave the city to bid me +farewell in person. I beg you to return to me a certain key which I +gave into your keeping some years ago. You have no need of it and it +worries me to have it lying about. + +Don't think that I am at all angry. My friendship and my gratitude are +yours, however far and long we may be separated. When, some day, we +meet again, we will both have become different beings. With many +blessings upon your way, + +ALICE." + +He struck his forehead like a man who awakens from an obscene dream. + +Where was his mind? He was about to go in search of that which was so +close at hand, so richly his own! + +Where else in all the world could he find a woman so exquisitely +tempered to his needs, so intimately responsive to his desires, one +who would lead him into the darker land of matrimony through meadows +of laughing flowers? + +To be sure, there was her coolness of temper, her learning, her +strange restlessness. But was not all that undergoing a change? Had he +not found her sunk in dreams? And her tears? And her kiss? + +Ungrateful wretch that he was! + +He had sought a home and not thought of the parrot who screamed out +his name in her dear dwelling. There was a parrot like that in the +world--and he wandered foolishly abroad. What madness! What baseness! + +He would go to her at once. + +But no! A merry thought struck him and a healing one. + +He took the key from the wall and put it into his pocket. + +He would go to her--at midnight. + + + + +Chapter IX. + + +He had definitely abandoned his club, the theatres were closed, the +restaurants were deserted, his brother's family was in the country. It +was not easy to pass the evening with that great resolve in his heart +and that small key in his pocket. + +Until ten he drifted about under the foliage of the _Tiergarten_. He +listened to the murmur of couples who thronged the dark benches, +regarded those who were quietly walking in the alleys and found +himself, presently, in that stream of humanity which is drawn +irresistibly toward the brightly illuminated pleasure resorts. + +He was moved and happy at once. For the first time in years he felt +himself to be a member of the family of man, a humbly serving brother +in the commonweal of social purpose. + +His time of proud, individualistic morality was over: the +ever-blessing institution of the family was about to gather him to its +hospitable bosom. + +To be sure, his wonted scepticism was not utterly silenced. But he +drove it away with a feeling of delighted comfort. He could have +shouted a blessing to the married couples in search of air, he could +have given a word of fatherly advice to the couples on the benches: +"Children, commit no indiscretions--marry!" + +And when he thought of her! A mild and peaceable tenderness of which +he had never thought himself capable welled up from his and heart.... +Wide gardens of Paradise seemed to open, gardens with secret grottos +and shady corners. And upon one of the palm-trees there sat +Joko--amiable beast--and said: "Rrricharrrd!" + +He went over the coming scene in his imagination again and again: Her +little cry of panic when he would enter the dark room and then his +whispered reassurance: "It is I, my darling. I have come back to stay +for ever and ever." + +And then happiness, gentle and heart-felt. + +If a divorce was necessary, the relatives of her husband would +probably succeed in divesting her of most of the property. What did it +matter to either of them? Was he not rich and was she not sure of him? +If need were, he could, with one stroke of the pen, repay her +threefold all that she might lose. But, indeed, these reflections were +quite futile. For when two people are so welded together in their +souls, their earthly possessions need no separation. From ten until +half past eleven he sat in a corner of the _Café Bauer_ and read the +paper of his native province which, usually, he never looked at. With +childlike delight he read into the local notices and advertisements +things pertinent to his future life. + +Bremsel, the delicatessen man in a neighbouring town advertised fresh +crabs. And Alice liked them. "Splendid," he thought "we won't have to +bring them from far." And suddenly he himself felt an appetite for the +shell-fish, so thoroughly had he lived himself into his vision of +domestic felicity. + +At twenty-five minutes of twelve he paid for his chartreuse and set +out on foot. He had time to spare and he did not want to cause the +unavoidable disturbance of a cab's stopping at her door. + +The house, according to his hope, was dark and silent. + +With beating heart he drew forth the key which consisted of two +collapsible parts. One part was for the house door, the other for a +door in her bed-room that led to a separate entrance. He had himself +chosen the apartment with this advantage in view. + +He passed the lower hall unmolested and reached the creaking stairs +which he had always hated. And as he mounted he registered an oath +to pass this way no more. He would not thus jeopardise the fair fame +of his betrothed. + +It would be bad enough if he had to rap, in case the night latch was +drawn.... + +The outer door, at least, offered no difficulty. He touched it and it +swung loose on its hinges. + +For a moment the mad idea came into his head that--in answer to her +letter--Alice might have foreseen the possibility of his coming.... He +was just about to test, by a light pressure, the knob of the inner +door when, coming from the bed-room, a muffled sound of speech +reached his ear. + +One voice was Alice's: the other--his breath stopped. It was not the +maid's. He knew it well. It was the voice of Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +It was over then--for him.... And again and again he murmured: "It's +all over." + +He leaned weakly against the wall. + +Then he listened. + +This woman who could not yield with sufficient fervour to the abandon +of passionate speech and action--this was Alice, his Alice, with her +fine sobriety, her philosophic clearness of mind. + +And that young fool whose mouth she closed with long kisses of +gratitude for his folly--did he realise the blessedness which had +fallen to the lot of his crude youth? It was over ... all over. + +And he was so worn, so passionless, so autumnal of soul, that he could +smile wearily in the midst of his pain. + +Very carefully he descended the creaking stairs, locked the door of +the house and stood on the street--still smiling. + +It was over ... all over. + +Her future was trodden into the mire, hers and his own. + +And in this supreme moment he grew cruelly aware of his crimes against +her. + +All her love, all her being during these years had been but one secret +prayer: "Hold me, do not break me, do not desert me!" + +He had been deaf. He had given her a stone for bread, irony for love, +cold doubt for warm, human trust! And in the end he had even despised +her because she had striven, with touching faith, to form herself +according to his example. + +It was all fatally clear--now. + +Her contradictions, her lack of feeling, her haughty scepticism--all +that had chilled and estranged him had been but a dutiful reflection +of his own being. + +Need he be surprised that the last remnant of her lost and corrupted +youth rose in impassioned rebellion against him and, thinking to +save itself, hurled itself to destruction? + +He gave one farewell glance to the dark, silent house--the grave of +the fairest hopes of all his life. Then he set out upon long, dreary, +aimless wandering through the endless, nocturnal streets. + +Like shadows the shapes of night glided by him. + +Shy harlots--loud roysterers--benzin flames--more harlots--and here +and there one lost in thought even as he. + +An evil odour, as of singed horses' hoofs, floated over the city..... +The dust whirled under the street-cleaning machines. + +The world grew silent. He was left almost alone..... + +Then the life of the awakening day began to stir. A sleepy dawn crept +over the roofs.... + +It was the next morning. + +There would be no "next mornings" for him. That was over. + +Let others send Indian lilies! + + + + + +THE PURPOSE + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was a blazing afternoon, late in July. The Cheruskan fraternity +entered Ellerntal in celebration of their mid-summer festivity. They +had let the great wagon stand at the outskirts of the village and now +marched up its street in well-formed procession, proud and vain as a +company of _Schützen_ before whom all the world bows down once a year. + +First came the regimental band of the nearest garrison, dressed in +civilian's clothes--then, under the vigilance of two brightly attired +freshmen, the blue, white and golden banner of the fraternity, next +the officers accompanied by other freshmen, and finally the active +members in whom the dignity, decency and fighting strength of the +fraternity were embodied. A gay little crowd of elderly gentlemen, +ladies and guests followed in less rigid order. Last came, as always +and everywhere, the barefoot children of the village. The procession +came to a halt in front of the _Prussian Eagle_, a long-drawn single +story structure of frame. The newly added dance hall with its three +great windows protruded loftily above the house. + +The banner was lowered, the horns of the band gave wild, sharp signals +to which no one attended, and Pastor Rhode, a sedate man of fifty +dressed in the scarf and slashed cap of the order, stepped from the +inn door to pronounce the address of welcome. At this moment it +happened that one of the two banner bearers who had stood at the right +and left of the flag with naked foils, rigid as statues, slowly tilted +over forward and buried his face in the green sward. + +This event naturally put an immediate end to the ceremony. Everybody, +men and women, thronged around the fallen youth and were quickly +pushed back by the medical fraternity men who were present in various +stages of professional development. + +The medical wisdom of this many-headed council culminated in the cry: +"A glass of water!" + +Immediately a young girl--hot-eyed and loose-haired, exquisite in the +roundedness of half maturity--rushed out of the door and handed a +glass to the gentlemen who had turned the fainting lad on his +back and were loosening scarf and collar. + +He lay there, in the traditional garb of the fraternity, like a young +cavalry man of the time of the Great Elector--with his blue, +gold-braided doublet, close-fitting breeches of white leather and +mighty boots whose flapping tops swelled out over his firm thighs. He +couldn't be above eighteen or nineteen, long and broad though he was, +with his cheeks of milk and blood, that showed no sign of down, no +duelling scar. You would have thought him some mother's pet, had there +not been a sharp line of care that ran mournfully from the half-open +lips to the chin. + +The cold water did its duty. Sighing, the lad opened his eyes--two +pretty blue boy's eyes, long lashed and yet a little empty of +expression as though life had delayed giving them the harder glow +of maturity. + +These eyes fell upon the young girl who stood there, with hands +pressed to her heaving bosom, in an ecstatic desire to help. + +"Where can we carry him?" asked one of the physicians. + +"Into my room," she cried, "I'll show you the way." + +Eight strong hands took hold and two minutes later the boy lay on the +flowered cover of her bed. It was far too short for him, but it stood, +soft and comfortable, hidden by white mull curtains in a corner of +her simple room. + +He was summoned back to full consciousness, tapped, auscultated and +examined. Finally he confessed with a good deal of hesitation that his +right foot hurt him a bit--that was all. + +"Are the boots your own, freshie?" asked one of the physicians. + +He blushed, turned his gaze to the wall and shook his head. + +Everyone smiled. + +"Well, then, off with the wretched thing." + +But all exertion of virile strength was in vain. The boot did not +budge. Only a low moan of suffering came from the patient. + +"There's nothing to be done," said one, "little miss, let's have a +bread-knife." + +Anxious and with half-folded hands she had stood behind the doctors. +Now she rushed off and brought the desired implement. + +"But you're not going to hurt him?" she asked with big, beseeching +eyes. + +"No, no, we're only going to cut his leg off," jested one of the +by-standers and took the knife from her clinging fingers. + +Two incisions, two rents along the shin--the leather parted. A steady +surgeon's hand guided the knife carefully over the instep. At last the + flesh appeared--bloody, steel-blue and badly swollen. + +"Freshie, you idiot, you might have killed yourself," said the surgeon +and gave the patient a paternal nudge. "And now, little miss, +hurry--sugar of lead bandages till evening." + + + + +Chapter II. + + +Her name was Antonie. She was the inn-keeper Wiesner's only daughter +and managed the household and kitchen because her mother had died in +the previous year. + +His name was Robert Messerschmidt. He was a physician's son and a +student of medicine. He hoped to fight his way into full fraternity +membership by the beginning of the next semester. This last detail +was, at present, the most important of his life and had been confided +to her at the very beginning of their acquaintanceship. + +Youth is in a hurry. At four o'clock their hands were intertwined. At +five o'clock their lips found each other. From six on the bandages +were changed more rarely. Instead they exchanged vows of eternal +fidelity. At eight a solemn betrothal took place. And when, at ten +o'clock, swaying slightly and mellow of mood, the physicians +reappeared in order to put the patient to bed properly, their +wedding-day had been definitely set for the fifth anniversary of that +day. Next morning the procession went on to celebrate in some other +picturesque locality the festival of the breakfast of "the +morning after." + +Toni had run up on the hill which ascended, behind her father's house, +toward the high plateau of the river-bank. With dry but burning eyes +she looked after the wagons which gradually vanished in the silvery +sand of the road and one of which carried away into the distance her +life's whole happiness. + +To be sure, she had fallen in love with everyone whom she had met. +This habit dated from her twelfth, nay, from her tenth year. But this +time it was different, oh, so different. This time it was like an +axe-blow from which one doesn't arise. Or like the fell +disease--consumption--which had dragged her mother to the grave. + +She herself was more like her father, thick-set and sturdy. + +She had also inherited his calculating and planning nature. With tough +tenacity he could sacrifice years of earning and saving and planning +to acquire farms and meadows and orchards. Thus the girl could +meditate and plan her fate which, until yesterday, had been fluid as +water but which to-day lay definitely anchored in the soul of a +stranger lad. + +Her education had been narrow. She knew the little that an old +governess and a comfortable pastor could teach. But she read +whatever she could get hold of--from the tattered "pony" to Homer +which a boy friend had loaned her, to the most horrible +penny-dreadfuls which were her father's delight in his rare hours +of leisure. + +And she assimilated what she read and adapted it to her own fate. Thus +her imagination was familiar with happiness, with delusion, +with crime.... + +She knew that she was beautiful. If the humility of her play-fellows +had not assured her of this fact, she would have been enlightened by +the long glances and jesting admiration of her father's guests. + +Her father was strict. He interfered with ferocity if a traveller +jested with her too intimately. Nevertheless he liked to have her come +into the inn proper and slip, smiling and curtsying, past the +wealthier guests. It was not unprofitable. + +Upon his short, fleshy bow-legs, with his suspiciously calculating +blink, with his avarice and his sharp tongue, he stood between her and +the world, permitting only so much of it to approach her as seemed, at +a given moment, harmless and useful. + +His attitude was fatal to any free communication with her beloved. He +opened and read every letter that she had ever received. Had she +ventured to call for one at the post-office, the information would +have reached him that very day. + +The problem was how to deceive him without placing herself at the +mercy of some friend. + +She sat down in the arbour from which, past the trees of the orchard +and the neighbouring river, one had a view of the Russian forests, and +put the problem to her seventeen-year old brain. And while the summer +wind played with the green fruit on the boughs and the white herons +spread their gleaming wings over the river, she thought out a +plan--the first of many by which she meant to rivet her beloved +for life. + +On the same afternoon she asked her father's permission to invite the +daughter of the county-physician to visit her. + +"Didn't know you were such great friends," he said, surprised. + +"Oh, but we are," she pretended to be a little hurt. "We were received +into the Church at the same time." + +With lightning-like rapidity he computed the advantages that might +result from such a visit. The county-seat was four miles distant and +if the societies of veterans and marksmen in whose committees the +doctor was influential could be persuaded to come hither for their +outings.... The girl was cordially invited and arrived a week later. +She was surprised and touched to find so faithful a friend in Toni +who, when they were both boarding with Pastor Rhode, had played her +many a sly trick. + +Two months later the girl, in her turn, invited Toni to the city +whither she had never before been permitted to go alone and so the +latter managed to receive her lover's first letter. + +What he wrote was discouraging enough. His father was ill, hence the +excellent practice was gliding into other hands and the means for his +own studies were growing narrow. If things went on so he might have to +give up his university course and take to anything to keep his mother +and sister from want. + +This prospect did not please Toni. She was so proud of him. She could +not bear to have him descend in the social scale for the sake of bread +and butter. She thought and thought how she could help him with money, +but nothing occurred to her. She had to be content with encouraging +him and assuring him that her love would find ways and means for +helping him out of his difficulties. + +She wrote her letters at night and jumped out of the window in order +to drop them secretly into the pillar box. It was months before she +could secure an answer. His father was better, but life in the +fraternity was very expensive, and it was a very grave question +whether he had not better resign the scarf which he had just gained +and study on as a mere "barb." + +In Toni's imagination the picture of her beloved was brilliantly +illuminated by the glory of the tricoloured fraternity scarf, his +desire for it had become so ardently her own, that she could not bear +the thought of him--his yearning satisfied--returning to the gray +commonplace garb of Philistia. And so she wrote him. + +Spring came and Toni matured to statelier maidenhood. The plump girl, +half-child, droll and naïve, grew to be a thoughtful, silent young +woman, secretive and very sure of her aims. She condescended to the +guests and took no notice of the desperate admiration which surrounded +her. Her glowing eyes looked into emptiness, her infinitely tempting +mouth smiled carelessly at friends and strangers. + +In May Robert's father died. + +She read it in one of the papers that were taken at the inn, and +immediately it became clear to her that her whole future was at stake. +For if he was crushed now by the load of family cares, if hope were +taken from him, no thought of her or her love would be left. Only if +she could redeem her promises and help him practically could she hope +to keep him. In the farthest corner of a rarely opened drawer lay +her mother's jewels which were some day to be hers--brooches and +rings, a golden chain, and a comb set with rubies which had found its +way--heaven knows how--into the simple inn. + +Without taking thought she stole the whole and sent it as +merchandise--not daring to risk the evidence of registration--to help +him in his studies. The few hundred marks that the jewellery would +bring would surely keep him until the end of the semester ... but +what then? ... + +And again she thought and planned all through the long, hot nights. + +Pastor Rhode's eldest son, a frail, tall junior who followed her, full +of timid passion, came home from college for the spring vacation. In +the dusk he crept around the inn as had been his wont for years. + +This time he had not long to wait. + +How did things go at college? Badly. Would he enter the senior class +at Michaelmas? Hardly. Then she would have to be ashamed of him, and +that would be a pity: she liked him too well. + +The slim lad writhed under this exquisite torture. It wasn't his +fault. He had pains in his chest, and growing pains. And all that. + +She unfolded her plan. + +"You ought to have a tutor during the long vacation, Emil, to help you +work." + +"Papa can do that." + +"Oh, Papa is busy. You ought to have a tutor all to yourself, a +student or something like that. If you're really fond of me ask your +Papa to engage one. Perhaps he'll get a young man from his own +fraternity with whom he can chat in the evening. You will ask, won't +you? I don't like people who are conditioned in their studies." + +That same night a letter was sent to her beloved. + +"Watch the frat. bulletin! Our pastor is going to look for a tutor for +his boy. See to it that you get the position. I'm longing to see +you." + + + + +Chapter III + + +Once more it was late July--exactly a year after those memorable +events--and he sat in the stage-coach and took off his crape-hung cap +to her. His face was torn by fresh scars and diagonally across his +breast the blue white golden scarf was to be seen. + +She grasped the posts of the fence with both hands and felt that she +would die if she could not have him. + +Upon that evening she left the house no more, although for two hours +he walked the dusty village street, with Emil, but also alone. But on +the next evening she stood behind the fence. Their hands found each +other across the obstacle. + +"Do you sleep on the ground-floor?" she asked whispering. + +"Yes." + +"Does the dog still bark when he sees you." + +"I don't know, I'm afraid so." + +"When you've made friends with him so that he won't bark when you get +out of the window, then come to the arbour behind our orchard. I'll +wait for you every night at twelve. But don't mind that. Don't come +till you're sure of the dog." + +For three long nights she sat on the wooden bench of the arbour until +the coming of dawn and stared into the bluish dusk that hid the +village as in a cloak. From time to time the dogs bayed. She could +distinguish the bay of the pastor's collie. She knew his hoarse voice. +Perhaps he was barring her beloved's way.... + +At last, during the fourth night, when his coming was scarcely to be +hoped for, uncertain steps dragged up the hill. + +She did not run to meet him. She crouched in the darkest corner of the +arbour and tasted, intensely blissful, the moments during which he +felt his way through the foliage. + +Then she clung to his neck, to his lips, demanding and according +all--rapt to the very peaks of life.... + +They were together nightly. Few words passed between them. She +scarcely knew how he looked. For not even a beam of the moon could +penetrate the broad-leaved foliage, and at the peep of dawn they +separated. She might have lain in the arms of a stranger and not known +the difference. + +And not only during their nightly meetings, but even by day they slipt +through life-like shadows. One day the pastor came to the inn for a +glass of beer and chatted with other gentlemen. She heard him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with that young fellow," he said. "He +does his duty and my boy is making progress. But he's like a stranger +from another world. He sits at the table and scarcely sees us. He +talks and you have the feeling that he doesn't know what he's talking +about. Either he's anaemic or he writes poetry." + +She herself saw the world through a blue veil, heard the voices of +life across an immeasurable distance and felt hot, alien shivers run +through her enervated limbs. + +The early Autumn approached and with it the day of his departure. At +last she thought of discussing the future with him which, until then, +like all else on earth, had sunk out of sight. + +His mother, he told her, meant to move to Koenigsberg and earn her +living by keeping boarders. Thus there was at least a possibility of +his continuing his studies. But he didn't believe that he would be +able to finish. His present means would soon be exhausted and he had +no idea where others would come from. + +All that he told her in the annoyed and almost tortured tones of one +long weary of hope who only staggers on in fear of more vital +degradation. + +With flaming words she urged him to be of good courage. She insisted +upon such resources as--however frugal--were, after all, at hand, and +calculated every penny. She shrugged her shoulders at his gratitude +for that first act of helpfulness. If only there were something else +to be taken. But whence and how? Her suspicious father would have +observed any shortage in his till at once and would have had the thief +discovered. + +The great thing was to gain time. Upon her advice he was to leave +Koenigsberg with its expensive fraternity life and pass the winter in +Berlin. The rest had to be left to luck and cunning. + +In a chill, foggy September night they said farewell. Shivering they +held each other close. Their hearts were full of the confused hopes +which they themselves had kindled, not because there was any ground +for hope, but because without it one cannot live. + +And a few weeks later everything came to an end. + +For Toni knew of a surety that she would be a mother.... + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Into the river! + +For that her father would put her in the street was clear. It was +equally clear what would become of her in that case.... + +But no, not into the river! Why was her young head so practised in +skill and cunning, if it was to bow helplessly under the first severe +onslaught of fate? What was the purpose of those beautiful long nights +but to brood upon plans and send far thoughts out toward shining aims? + +No, she would not run into the river. That dear wedding-day in five, +nay, in four years, was lost anyhow. But the long time could be +utilised so cleverly that her beloved could be dragged across the +abyss of his fate. + +First, then, she must have a father for her child. He must not be +clever. He must not be strong of will. Nor young, for youth makes +demands. ... Nor well off, for he who is certain of himself desires +freedom of choice. + +Her choice fell upon a former inn-keeper, a down-hearted man of about +fifty, moist of eye, faded, with greasy black hair.... He had failed +in business some years before and now sat around in the inn, looking +for a job.... + +To this her father did not object. For that man's condition was an +excellent foil to his own success and prosperity and thus he was +permitted, at times, to stay a week in the house where, otherwise, +charity was scarcely at home. + +Her plan worked well. On the first day she lured him silently on. On +the second he responded. On the third she turned sharply and rebuked +him. On the fourth she forgave him. On the fifth she met him in +secret. On the sixth he went on a journey, conscience smitten for +having seduced her.... + +That very night--for there was no time to be lost--she confessed with +trembling and blushing to her father that she was overcome by an +unconquerable passion for Herr Weigand. As was to be expected she was +driven from the door with shame and fury. + +During the following weeks she went about bathed in tears. Her father +avoided her. Then, when the right moment seemed to have come, she made +a second and far more difficult confession. This time her tremours and +her blushes were real, her tears were genuine for her father used a +horse-whip.... But when, that night, Toni sat on the edge of her bed +and bathed the bloody welts on her body, she knew that her plan +would succeed. + +And, to be sure, two days later Herr Weigand returned--a little more +faded, a little more hesitant, but altogether, by no means unhappy. He +was invited into her father's office for a long discussion. The result +was that the two lovers fell into each others' arms while her father, +trembling with impotent rage, hurled at them the fragments of a +crushed cigar. + +The banns were proclaimed immediately after the betrothal, and a +month later Herr Weigand, in his capacity of son-in-law, could take +possession of the same garret which he had inhabited as an impecunious +guest. This arrangement, however, was not a permanent one. An inn was +to be rented for the young couple--with her father's money. + +Toni, full of zeal and energy, took part in every new undertaking, +travelled hither and thither, considered prospects and dangers, but +always withdrew again at the last moment in order to await a fairer +opportunity. + +But she was utterly set upon the immediate furnishing of the new home. +She went to Koenigsberg and had long sessions with furniture dealers +and tradesmen of all kinds. On account of her delicate condition she +insisted that she could only travel on the upholstered seats of the +second class. She charged her father accordingly and in reality +travelled fourth class and sat for hours between market-women and +Polish Jews in order to save a few marks. In the accounts she rendered +heavy meals were itemized, strengthening wines, stimulating cordials. +As a matter of fact, she lived on dried slices of bread which, before +leaving home, she hid in her trunk. + +She did not disdain the saving of a tram car fare, although the +rebates which she got on the furniture ran into the hundreds. + +All that she sent jubilantly to her lover in Berlin, assured that he +was provided for some months. + +Thus the great misfortune had finally resulted in a blessing. For, +without these unhoped for resources, he must have long fallen by +the way-side. + +Months passed. Her furnishings stood in a storage warehouse, but the +house in which they were to live was not yet found. + +When she felt that her hour had come--her father and husband thought +it far off--she redoubled the energy of her travels, seeking, +preferably, rough and ribbed roads which other women in her condition +were wont to shun. + +And thus, one day, in a springless vehicle, two miles distant from the +county-seat, the pains of labour came upon her. She steeled every +nerve and had herself carried to the house of the county-physician +whose daughter was now tenderly attached to her. + +There she gave birth to a girl child which announced its equivocal +arrival in this world lustily. + +The old doctor, into whose house this confusion had suddenly come, +stood by her bed-side, smiling good-naturedly. She grasped him with +both hands, terror in her eyes and in her voice. + +"Dear, dear doctor! The baby was born too soon, wasn't it?" + +The doctor drew back and regarded her long and earnestly. Then his +smile returned and his kind hand touched her hair. + +"Yes, it is as you say. The baby's nails are not fully developed and +its weight is slightly below normal. It's all on account of your +careless rushing about. Surely the child came too soon." + +And he gave her the proper certification of the fact which protected +her from those few people who might consider themselves partakers of +her secret. For the opinion of people in general she cared little. So +strong had she grown through guilt and silence. + +And she was a child of nineteen! ... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When Toni had arisen from her bed of pain she found the place which +she and her husband had been seeking for months with surprising +rapidity. The "Hotel Germania," the most reputable hotel in the +county-seat itself was for rent. Its owner had recently died. It was +palatial compared to her father's inn. There were fifteen rooms for +guests, a tap-room, a wine-room, a grocery-shop and a livery-stable. + +Weigand, intimidated by misfortune, had never even hoped to aspire to +such heights of splendour. Even now he could only grasp the measure of +his happiness by calculating enormous profits. And he did this with +peculiar delight. For, since the business was to be run in the name of +Toni's father, his own creditors could not touch him. + +When they had moved in and the business began to be straightened out, +Weigand proved himself in flat contradiction of his slack and careless +character, a tough and circumspect man of business. He knew the +whereabouts of every penny and was not inclined to permit his wife to +make random inroads upon his takings. + +Toni, who had expected to be undisputed mistress of the safe saw +herself cheated of her dearest hopes, for the time approached when the +savings made on the purchase of her furniture must necessarily be +exhausted. + +And again she planned and wrestled through the long, warm nights while +her husband, whose inevitable proximity she bore calmly, snored with +the heaviness of many professional "treats." + +One day she said to him: "A few pennies must be put by for Amanda." +That was the name of the little girl who flourished merrily in her +cradle. "You must assign some little profits to me." + +"What can I do?" he asked. "For the present everything belongs to the +old man." + +"I know what I'd like," she went on, smiling dreamily, "I'd like to +have all the profits on the sale of champagne." + +He laughed heartily. There wasn't much call for champagne in the +little county-seat. At most a few bottles were sold on the emperor's +birthday or when, once in a long while, a flush commercial traveller +wanted to regale a recalcitrant customer. + +And so Weigand fell in with what he thought a mere mood and assented. + +Toni at once made a trip to Koenigsberg and bought all kinds of +phantastic decorations--Chinese lanterns, gilt fans, artificial +flowers, gay vases and manicoloured lamp-shades. With all these things +she adorned the little room that lay behind the room in which the most +distinguished townspeople were wont to drink their beer. And so the +place with veiled light and crimson glow looked more like a mysterious +oriental shrine than the sitting-room of an honest Prussian +inn-keeper's wife. + +She sat evening after evening in this phantastic room. She brought her +knitting and awaited the things that were to come. + +The gentlemen who drank in the adjoining room, the judges, physicians, +planters--all the bigwigs of a small town, in short--soon noticed the +magical light that glimmered through the half-open door whenever +Weigand was obliged to pass from the public rooms into his private +dwelling. And the men grew to be curious, the more so as the +inn-keeper's young wife, of whose charms many rumours were afloat, had +never yet been seen by any. + +One evening, when the company was in an especially hilarious mood, the +men demanded stormily to see the mysterious room. + +Weigand hesitated. He would have to ask his wife's permission. He +returned with the friendly message that the gentlemen were welcome. +Hesitant, almost timid, they entered as if crossing the threshold of +some house of mystery. + +There stood--transfigured by the glow of coloured lamps--the shapely +young woman with the alluring glow in her eyes, and her lips that were +in the form of a heart. She gave each a secretly quivering hand and +spoke a few soft words that seemed to distinguish him from the others. +Then, still timid and modest, she asked them to be seated and begged +for permission to serve a glass of champagne in honour of +the occasion. + +It is not recorded who ordered the second bottle. It may have been the +very fat Herr von Loffka, or the permanently hilarious judge. At all +events the short visit of the gentlemen came to an end at three +o'clock in the morning with wild intoxication and a sale of eighteen +bottles of champagne, of which half bore French labels. + +Toni resisted all requests for a second invitation to her sanctum. She +first insisted on the solemn assurance that the gentlemen would +respect her presence and bring neither herself nor her house into +ill-repute. At last came the imperial county-counsellor himself--a +wealthy bachelor of fifty with the manners of an injured lady killer. +He came to beg for himself and the others and she dared not refuse +any longer. + +The champagne festivals continued. With this difference: that Toni, +whenever the atmosphere reached a certain point of heated +intoxication, modestly withdrew to her bed-room. Thus she succeeded not +only in holding herself spotless but in being praised for her +retiring nature. + +But she kindled a fire in the heads of these dissatisfied University +men who deemed themselves banished into a land of starvation, and in +the senses of the planters' sons. And this fire burned on and created +about her an atmosphere of madly fevered desire.... + +Finally it became the highest mark of distinction in the little town, +the sign of real connoisseurship in life, to have drunk a bottle of +champagne with "Germania," as they called her, although she bore +greater resemblance to some swarthier lady of Rome. Whoever was not +admitted to her circle cursed his lowliness and his futile life. + +Of course, in spite of all precautions, it could not but be that her +reputation suffered. The daughter of the county-physician began to +avoid her, the wives of social equals followed suit. But no one dared +accuse her of improper relations with any of her adorers. It was even +known that the county-counsellor, desperate over her stern refusals, +was urging her to get a divorce from her husband and marry him. No one +suspected, of course, that she had herself spread this rumour in order +to render pointless the possible leaking out of improprieties.... + +Nor did any one dream that a bank in Koenigsberg transmitted, in her +name, monthly cheques to Berlin that sufficed amply to help an +ambitious medical student to continue his work. + +The news which she received from her beloved was scanty. + +In order to remain in communication with him she had thought out a +subtle method. + +The house of every tradesman or business man in the provinces is +flooded with printed advertisements from Berlin which pour out over +the small towns and the open country. Of this printed matter, which is +usually thrown aside unnoticed, Toni gathered the most voluminous +examples, carefully preserved the envelopes, and sent them to Robert. +Her husband did not notice of course that the same advertising matter +came a second time nor that faint, scarce legible pencil marks picked +out words here and there which, when read consecutively, made complete +sense and differed very radically from the message which the printed +slips were meant to convey.... + +Years passed. A few ship-wrecked lives marked Toni's path, a few +female slanders against her were avenged by the courts. Otherwise +nothing of import took place. + +And in her heart burned with never-lessening glow the one great +emotion which always supplied fuel to her will, which lent every +action a pregnant significance and furnished absolution for +every crime. + +In the meantime Amanda grew to be a blue-eyed, charming child--gentle +and caressing and the image of the man of whose love she was the +impassioned gift. + +But Fate, which seems to play its gigantic pranks upon men in the act +of punishing them, brought it to pass that the child seemed also to +bear some slight resemblance to the stranger who, bowed and servile, +stupidly industrious, sucking cigars, was to be seen at her +mother's side. + +Never was father more utterly devoted to the fruit of his loins than +this gulled fellow to the strange child to whom the mother did not +even--by kindly inactivity--give him a borrowed right. The more +carefully she sought to separate the child from him, the more +adoringly and tenaciously did he cling to it. + +With terror and rage Toni was obliged to admit to herself that no sum +would ever suffice to make Weigand agree to a divorce that separated +him definitely from the child. And dreams and visions, transplanted +into her brain from evil books, filled Toni's nights with the glitter +of daggers and the stain of flowing blood. And fate seemed to urge on +the day when these dreams must take on flesh.... + +One day she found in the waste-paper basket which she searched +carefully after every mail-delivery, an advertisement which commended +to the buying public a new make of type-writer. + +"Many public institutions," thus the advertisement ran, "use our well +tried machines in their offices, because these machines will bear the +most rigid examination. Their reputation has crossed the ocean. The +Chilean ministry has just ordered a dozen of our 'Excelsiors' by +cable. Thus successfully does our invention spread over the world. And +yet its victorious progress is by no means completed. Even in Japan--" +and so on. + +If one looked at this stuff very carefully, one could observe that +certain words were lightly marked in pencil. And if one read these +words consecutively, the following sentence resulted: + +"Public--examination--just--successfully--completed." + +From this day on the room with the veiled lamps remained closed to her +eager friends. From this day on the generous county-counsellor saw +that his hopes were dead.... + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +How was the man to be disposed of? + +An open demand for divorce would have been stupid, for it would have +thrown a very vivid suspicion upon any later and more drastic attempt. + +Weigand's walk and conversation were blameless. Her one hope consisted +in catching him in some chance infidelity. The desire for change, she +reasoned, the allurement of forbidden fruit, must inflame even this +wooden creature. + +She had never, hitherto, paid the slightest attention to the problem +of waitresses. Now she travelled to Koenigsberg and hired the +handsomest women to be found in the employment bureaus. They came, one +after another, a feline Polish girl, a smiling, radiantly blond child +of Sweden--a Venus, a Germania--this time a genuine one. Next came a +pretended Circassian princess. And they all wandered off again, and +Weigand had no glance for them but that of the master. + +Antonie was discouraged and dropped her plan. + +What now? + +She had recoiled from no baseness. She had sacrificed to her love +honour, self-respect, truth, righteousness and pride. But she had +avoided hitherto the possibility of a conflict with the law. +Occasional small thefts in the house did not count. + +But the day had come when crime itself, crime that threatened remorse +and the sword of judgment, entered her life. For otherwise she could +not get rid of her husband. + +The regions that lie about the eastern boundary of the empire are +haunted by Jewish peddlers who carry in their sacks Russian drops, +candied fruits, gay ribands, toys made of bark, and other pleasant +things which make them welcome to young people. But they also supply +sterner needs. In the bottom of their sacks are hidden love philtres +and strange electuaries. And if you press them very determinedly, you +will find some among them who have the little white powders that can +be poured into beer ... or the small, round discs which the common +folk call "crow's eyes" and which the greedy apothecaries will not +sell you merely for the reason that they prepare the costlier +strychnine from them. + +You will often see these beneficent men in the twilight in secret +colloquy with female figures by garden-gates and the edges of woods. +The female figures slip away if you happen to appear on the road.... +Often, too, these men are asked into the house and intimate council is +held with them--especially when husband and servants are busy in the +fields.... + +One evening in the beginning of May, Toni brought home with her from a +harmless walk a little box of arsenic and a couple of small, hard +discs that rattled merrily in one's pocket.... Cold sweat ran down her +throat and her legs trembled so that she had to sit down on a case of +soap before entering the house. + +Her husband asked her what was wrong. + +"Ah, it's the spring," she answered and laughed. + +Soon her adorers noticed, and not these only, that her loveliness +increased from day to day. Her eyes which, under their depressed +brows, had assumed a sharp and peering gaze, once more glowed with +their primal fire, and a warm rosiness suffused her cheeks that spread +marvelously to her forehead and throat. + +Her appearance made so striking an impression that many a one who had +not seen her for a space stared at her and asked, full of admiration: +"What have you done to yourself?" + +"It is the spring," she answered and laughed. + +As a matter of fact she had taken to eating arsenic. + +She had been told that any one who becomes accustomed to the use of +this poison can increase the doses to such an extent that he can take +without harm a quantity that will necessarily kill another. And she +had made up her mind to partake of the soup which she meant, some day, +to prepare for her husband. That much she held to be due a faultless +claim of innocence. + +But she was unfortunate enough to make a grievous mistake one day, and +lay writhing on the floor in uncontrollable agony. + +The old physician at once recognized the symptoms of arsenic +poisoning, prescribed the necessary antidotes and carefully dragged +her back into life. The quantity she had taken, he declared, shaking +his head, was enough to slay a strong man. He transmitted the +information of the incident as demanded by law. + +Detectives and court-messengers visited the house. The entire building +was searched, documents had to be signed and all reports were +carefully followed up. + +The dear romantic public refused to be robbed of its opinion that one +of Toni's rejected admirers had thus sought to avenge himself. The +suspicion of the authorities, however, fastened itself upon a +waitress, a plump, red-haired wanton who had taken the place of the +imported beauties and whose insolent ugliness the men of the town, +relieved of nobler delights, enjoyed thoroughly. The insight of the +investigating judge had found in the girl's serving in the house and +her apparent intimacy with its master a scent which he would by no +means abandon. Only, because a few confirmatory details were still to +seek, the suspicion was hidden not only from the public but even from +its object. + +Antonie, however, ailed continually. She grew thin, her digestion was +delicate. If the blow was to be struck--and many circumstances urged +it--she would no longer be able to share the poison with her victim. +But it seemed fairly certain that suspicion would very definitely fall +not upon her but upon the other woman. The latter would have to be +sacrificed, so much was clear. + +But that was the difficulty. The wounded conscience might recover, the +crime might be conquered into forgetfulness, if only that is slain +which burdens the earth, which should never have been. But Toni felt +that her soul could not drag itself to any bourne of peace if, for her +own advantage, she cast one who was innocent to lasting and +irremediable destruction. + +The simplest thing would have been to dismiss the woman. In that case, +however, it was possible that the courts would direct their +investigations to her admirers. One of them had spoken hasty and +careless words. He might not be able to clear himself, were the +accusation directed against him. + +There remained but one hope: to ascribe the unavertible death of her +husband to some accident, some heedlessness. And so she directed her +unwavering purpose to this end. + +The Polish peddler had slipped into Toni's hand not only the arsenic +but also the deadly little discs called "crow's eyes." These must help +her, if used with proper care and circumspection. + +One day while little Amanda was playing in the yard with other girls, +she found among the empty kerosene barrels a few delightful, silvery +discs, no larger then a ten pfennig piece. With great delight she +brought them to her mother who, attending to her knitting, had ceased +for a moment to watch the children. + +"What's that, Mama?" + +"I don't know, my darling." + +"May we play with them?" + +"What would you like to play?" + +"We want to throw them." + +"No, don't do that. But I'll make you a new doll-carriage and these +will be lovely wheels." + +The children assented and Amanda brought a pair of scissors in order +to make holes in the little wheels. But they were too hard and the +points of the blades slipped. + +"Ask father to use his small gimlet." + +Amanda ran to the open window behind which he for whom all this was +prepared was quietly making out his monthly bills. + +Toni's breath failed. If he recognised the poisonous fruits, it was +all over with her plan. But the risk was not to be avoided. + +He looked at the discs for a moment. And yet for another. No, he did +not know their nature but was rather pleased with them. It did not +even occur to him to warn the little girl to beware of the +unknown fruit. + +He called into the shop ordering an apprentice to bring him a +tool-case. The boy in his blue apron came and Toni observed that his +eyes rested upon the fruits for a perceptible interval. Thus there +was, in addition to the children, another witness and one who would be +admitted to oath. + +Weigand bored holes into four of the discs and threw them, jesting +kindly, into the children's apron. The others he kept. "He has +pronounced his own condemnation," Toni thought as with trembling +fingers she mended an old toy to fit the new wheels. + +Nothing remained but to grind the proper dose with cinnamon, to +sweeten it--according to instructions--and spice a rice-pudding +therewith. + +But fate which, in this delicate matter, had been hostile to her from +the beginning, ordained it otherwise. + +For that very evening came the apothecary, not, as a rule, a timid +person. He was pale and showed Weigand the fruits. He had, by the +merest hair-breadth, prevented his little girl Marie from nibbling +one of them. + +The rest followed as a matter of course. The new wheels were taken +from the doll-carriage, all fragments were carefully sought out and +all the discs were given to the apothecary who locked them into +his safe. + +"The red-headed girl must be sacrificed after all," Toni thought. + +She planned and schemed, but she could think of no way by which the +waitress could be saved from that destruction which hung over her. + +There was no room for further hesitation. The path had to be trodden +to its goal. Whether she left corpses on the way-side, whether she +herself broke down dead at the goal--it did not matter. That plan of +her life which rivetted her fate to her beloved's forever demanded +that she proceed. + +The old physician came hurrying to the inn next morning. He was +utterly confounded by the scarcely escaped horrors. + +"You really look," he said to Toni, "as if you had swallowed some of +the stuff, too." + +"Oh, I suppose my fate will overtake me in the end," she answered with +a weary smile. "I feel it in my bones: there will be some misfortune +in our house." + +"For heaven's sake!" he cried, "Put that red-headed beast into the +street." + +"It isn't she! I'll take my oath on that," she said eagerly and +thought that she had done a wonderfully clever thing. + +She waited in suspense, fearing that the authorities would take a +closer look at this last incident. She was equipped for any +search--even one that might penetrate to her own bed-room. For she had +put false bottoms into the little medicine-boxes. Beneath these she +kept the arsenic. On top lay harmless magnesia. The boxes themselves +stood on her toilet-table, exposed to all eyes and hence withdrawn +from all suspicion. + +She waited till evening, but nobody came. And yet the connection +between this incident and the former one seemed easy enough to +establish. However that might be, she assigned the final deed to the +very next day. And why wait? An end had to be made of this torture of +hesitation which, at every new scruple, seemed to freeze her very +heart's blood. Furthermore the finding of the "crow's eyes" would be +of use in leading justice astray. + +To-morrow, then ... to-morrow.... + +Weigand had gone to bed early. But Toni sat behind the door of the +public room and, through a slit of the door, listened to every +movement of the waitress. She had kept near her all evening. She +scarcely knew why. But a strange, dull hope would not die in her--a +hope that something might happen whereby her unsuspecting victim and +herself might both be saved. + +The clock struck one. The public rooms were all but empty. Only a few +young clerks remained. These were half-drunk and made rough advances +to the waitress. + +She resisted half-serious, half-jesting. + +"You go out and cool yourselves in the night-air. I don't care about +such fellows as you." + +"I suppose you want only counts and barons," one of them taunted her. +"I suppose you wouldn't even think the county-counsellor good enough!" + +"That's my affair," she answered, "as to who is good enough for me. I +have my choice. I can get any man I want." + +They laughed at her and she flew into a rage. + +"If you weren't such a beggarly crew and had anything to bet, I'd +wager you any money that I'd seduce any man I want in a week. In a +week, do I say? In three days! Just name the man." + +Antonie quivered sharply and then sank with closed eyes, against the +back of her chair. A dream of infinite bliss stole through her being. +Was there salvation for her in this world? Could this coarse creature +accomplish that in which beauty and refinement had failed? + +Could she be saved from becoming a murderess? Would it be granted her +to remain human, with a human soul and a human face? + +But this was no time for tears or weakening. + +With iron energy she summoned all her strength and quietude and +wisdom. The moment was a decisive one. + +When the last guests had gone and all servants, too, had gone to their +rest, she called the waitress, with some jesting reproach, into +her room. + +A long whispered conversation followed. At its end the woman declared +that the matter was child's play to her. + +And did not suspect that by this game she was saving her life. + + + + +Chapter VII. + + +In hesitant incredulity Antonie awaited the things that were to come. + +On the first day a staggering thing happened. The red-headed woman, +scolding at the top of her voice, threw down a beer-glass at her +master's feet, upon which he immediately gave her notice. + +Toni's newly-awakened hope sank. The woman had boasted. And what was +worse than all: if the final deed could be accomplished, her compact +with the waitress would damn her. The woman would of course use this +weapon ruthlessly. The affair had never stood so badly. + +But that evening she breathed again. For Weigand declared that the +waitress seemed to have her good qualities too and her heart-felt +prayers had persuaded him to keep her. + +For several days nothing of significance took place except that +Weigand, whenever he mentioned the waitress, peered curiously aside. +And this fact Toni interpreted in a favorable light. + +Almost a week passed. Then, one day, the waitress approached Toni at +an unwonted hour. + +"If you'll just peep into my room this afternoon...." + +Toni followed directions.... The poor substitute crept down the +stairs--caught and powerless. He followed his wife who knelt sobbing +beside their bed. She was not to be comforted, nor to be moved. She +repulsed him and wept and wept. + +Weigand had never dreamed that he was so passionately loved. The more +violent was the anger of the deceived wife.... She demanded divorce, +instant divorce.... + +He begged and besought and adjured. In vain. + +Next he enlisted the sympathy of his father-in-law who had taken no +great interest in the business during these years, but was content if +the money he had invested in it paid the necessary six per +cent. promptly. + +The old man came immediately and made a scene with his recalcitrant +daughter.... There was the splendid business and the heavy investment! +She was not to think that he would give her one extra penny. He would +simply withdraw his capital and let her and the child starve. + +Toni did not even deign to reply. + +The suit progressed rapidly. The unequivocal testimony of the waitress +rendered any protest nugatory. + +Three months later Toni put her possessions on a train, took her +child, whom the deserted father followed with an inarticulate moan, +and travelled to Koenigsberg where she rented a small flat in order to +await in quiet the reunion with her beloved. + +The latter was trying to work up a practice in a village close to the +Russian border. He wrote that things were going slowly and that, +hence, he must be at his post night and day. So soon as he had the +slightest financial certainty for his wife and child, he would +come for them. + +And so she awaited the coming of her life's happiness. She had little +to do, and passed many happy hours in imagining how he would rush +in--by yonder passage--through this very door--tall and slender and +impassioned and press her to his wildly throbbing heart. And ever +again, though she knew it to be a foolish dream, did she see the blue +white golden scarf upon his chest and the blue and gold cap upon his +blond curls. + +Lonely widows--even those of the divorced variety--find friends and +ready sympathy in the land of good hearts. But Antonie avoided +everyone who sought her society. Under the ban of her great secret +purpose she had ceased to regard men and women except as they could be +turned into the instruments of her will. And her use for them was +over. As for their merely human character and experience--Toni saw +through these at once. And it all seemed to her futile and trivial in +the fierce reflection of those infernal fires through which she had +had to pass. + +Adorned like a bride and waiting--thus she lived quietly and modestly +on the means which her divorced husband--in order to keep his own head +above water--managed to squeeze out of the business. + +Suddenly her father died. People said that his death was due to +unconquerable rage over her folly.... + +She buried him, bearing herself all the while with blameless filial +piety and then awoke to the fact that she was rich. + +She wrote to her beloved: "Don't worry another day. We are in a +position to choose the kind of life that pleases us." + +He wired back: "Expect me to-morrow." + +Full of delight and anxiety she ran to the mirror and discovered for +the thousandth time, that she was beautiful again. The results of +poisoning had disappeared, crime and degradation had burned no marks +into her face. She stood there--a ruler of life. Her whole being +seemed sure of itself, kindly, open. Only the wild glance might, at +times, betray the fact that there was much to conceal. + +She kept wakeful throughout the night, as she had done through many +another. Plan after plan passed through her busy brain. It was with an +effort that she realised the passing of such grim necessities. + + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +A bunch of crysanthemums stood on the table, asters in vases on +dresser and chiffonier--colourful and scentless. + +Antonie wore a dress of black lace that had been made by the best +dressmaker in the city for this occasion. In festive array she +desired to meet her beloved and yet not utterly discard the garb of +filial grief. But she had dressed the child in white, with white silk +stockings and sky-blue ribands. It was to meet its father like the +incarnate spirit of approaching happiness. + +From the kitchen came the odours of the choicest autumn dishes--roast +duck with apples and a grape-cake, such as she alone knew how to +prepare. Two bottles of precious Rhine wine stood in the cool without +the window. She did not want to welcome him with champagne. The +memories of its subtle prickling, and of much else connected +therewith, nauseated her. + +If he left his village at six in the morning he must arrive at noon. + +And she waited even as she had waited seven years. This morning seven +hours had been left, there were scarcely seven minutes now. And +then--the door-bell rang. + +"That is the new uncle," she said to Amanda who was handling her +finery, flattered and astonished, and she wondered to note her brain +grow suddenly so cool and clear. + +A gentleman entered. A strange gentleman. Wholly strange. Had she met +him on the street she would not have known him. + +He had grown old--forty, fifty, an hundred years. Yet his real age +could not be over twenty-eight! ... + +He had grown fat. He carried a little paunch about with him, round and +comfortable. And the honourable scars gleamed in round red cheeks. His +eyes seemed small and receding.... + +And when he said: "Here I am at last," it was no longer the old voice, +clear and a little resonant, which had echoed and re-echoed in her +spiritual ear. He gurgled as though he had swallowed dumplings. + +But when he took her hand and smiled, something slipt into his +face--something affectionate and quiet, empty and without guile or +suspicion. + +Where was she accustomed to this smile? To be sure; in Amanda. An +indubitable inheritance. + +And for the sake of this empty smile an affectionate feeling for this +stranger came into her heart. She helped him take off his overcoat. He +wore a pair of great, red-lined rubber goloshes, typical of the +country doctor. He took these off carefully and placed them with their +toes toward the wall. + +"He has grown too pedantic," she thought. + +Then all three entered the room. When Toni saw him in the light of day +she missed the blue white golden scarf at once. But it would have +looked comical over his rounded paunch. And yet its absence +disillusioned her. It seemed to her as if her friend had doffed the +halo for whose sake she had served him and looked up to him so long. + +As for him, he regarded her with unconcealed admiration. + +"Well, well, one can be proud of you!" he said, sighing deeply, and it +almost seemed as if with this sigh a long and heavy burden lifted +itself from his soul. + +"He was afraid he might have to be ashamed of me," she thought +rebelliously. As if to protect herself she pushed the little girl +between them. + +"Here is Amanda," she said, and added with a bitter smile: "Perhaps +you remember." + +But he didn't even suspect the nature of that which she wanted to make +him feel. + +"Oh, I've brought something for you, little one!" he cried with the +delight of one who recalls an important matter in time. With measured +step he trotted back into the hall and brought out a flat paste-board +box tied with pink ribands. He opened it very carefully and revealed a +layer of chocolate-creams wrapped in tin-foil and offered one +to Amanda. + +And this action seemed to him, obviously, to satisfy all requirements +in regard to his preliminary relations to the child. + +Antonie felt the approach of a head-ache such as she had now and then +ever since the arsenic poisoning. + +"You are probably hungry, dear Robert," she said. + +He wouldn't deny that. "If one is on one's legs from four o'clock in +the morning on, you know, and has nothing in one's stomach but a +couple of little sausages, you know!" + +He said all that with the same cheerfulness that seemed to come to him +as a matter of course and yet did not succeed in wholly hiding an +inner diffidence. + +They sat down at the table and Antonie, taking pleasure in seeing to +his comfort, forgot for a moment the foolish ache that tugged at her +body and at her soul. + +The wine made him talkative. He related everything that interested +him--his professional trips across country, the confinements that +sometimes came so close together that he had to spend twenty-four +hours in his buggy. Then he told of the tricks by which people whose +lives he had just saved sought to cheat him out of his modest fees. +And he told also of the comfortable card-parties with the judge and +the village priest. And how funny it was when the inn-keeper's tame +starling promenaded on the cards.... + +Every word told of cheerful well-being and unambitious contentment. + +"He doesn't think of our common future," a torturing suspicion +whispered to her. + +But he did. + +"I should like to have you try, first of all, Toni, to live there. It +isn't easy. But we can both stand a good deal, thank God, and if we +don't like it in the end, why, we can move away." + +And he said that so simply and sincerely that her suspicion vanished. + +And with this returning certitude there returned, too, the ambition +which she had always nurtured for him. + +"How would it be if we moved to Berlin, or somewhere where there is a +university?" + +"And maybe aim at a professorship?" he cried with cheerful irony. "No, +Tonichen, all your money can't persuade me to that. I crammed enough +in that damned medical school, I've got my income and that's good +enough for me." + +A feeling of disgust came over her. She seemed to perceive the stuffy +odour of unventilated rooms and of decaying water in which flowers +had stood. + +"That is what I suffered for," involuntarily the thought came, +"_that!_" + +After dinner when Amanda was sleeping off the effects of the little +sip of wine which she had taken when they let her clink glasses with +them, they sat opposite each other beside the geraniums of the +window-box and fell silent. He blew clouds of smoke from his cigar +into the air and seemed not disinclined to indulge in a nap, too. + +Leaning back in her wicker chair she observed him uninterruptedly. At +one moment it seemed to her as though she caught an intoxicating +remnant of the slim, pallid lad to whom she had given her love. And +then again came the corroding doubt: "Was it for him, for him...." And +then a great fear oppressed her heart, because this man seemed to live +in a world which she could not reach in a whole life's pilgrimage. +Walls had arisen between them, doors had been bolted--doors that rose +from the depths of the earth to the heights of heaven.... As he sat +there, surrounded by the blue smoke of his cigar, he seemed more and +more to recede into immeasurable distances.... + +Then, suddenly, as if an inspiration had come to him, he pulled +himself together, and his face became serious, almost solemn. He laid +the cigar down on the window-box and pulled out of his inner pocket a +bundle of yellow sheets of paper and blue note-books. + +"I should have done this a long time ago," he said, "because we've +been free to correspond with each other. But I put it off to our +first meeting." + +"Done what?" she asked, seized by an uncomfortable curiosity. + +"Why, render an accounting." + +"An accounting?" + +"But dear Toni, surely you don't think me either ungrateful or +dishonourable. For seven years I have accepted one benefaction after +another from you.... That was a very painful situation for me, dear +child, and I scarcely believe that the circumstances, had they been +known, would ever have been countenanced by a court of honour." + +"Ah, yes," she said slowly. "I confess I never thought of _that_ +consideration...." + +"But I did all the more, for that very reason. And only the +consciousness that I would some day be able to pay you the last penny +of my debt sustained me in my consciousness as a decent fellow." + +"Ah, well, if that's the case, go ahead!" she said, suppressing the +bitter sarcasm that she felt. + +First came the receipts: The proceeds of the stolen jewels began the +long series. Then followed the savings in fares, food and drink and +the furniture rebates. Next came the presents of the county-counsellor, +the profits of the champagne debauches during which she had flung +shame and honour under the feet of the drinking men. She was spared +nothing, but heard again of sums gained by petty thefts from +the till, small profits made in the buying of milk and eggs. It +was a long story of suspense and longing, an inextricable web of +falsification and trickery, of terror and lying without end. The +memory of no guilt and no torture was spared her. + +Then he took up the account of his expenditures. He sat there, eagerly +handling the papers, now frowning heavily when he could not at once +balance some small sum, now stiffening his double chin in satisfied +self-righteousness as he explained some new way of saving that had +occurred to him.... Again and again, to the point of weariness, he +reiterated solemnly: "You see, I'm an honest man." + +And always when he said that, a weary irony prompted her to reply: +"Ah, what that honesty has cost me." ... But she held her peace. + +And again she wanted to cry out: "Let be! A woman like myself doesn't +care for these two-penny decencies." But she saw how deep an inner +necessity it was to him to stand before her in this conventional +spotlessness. And so she didn't rob him of his childlike joy. + +At last he made an end and spread out the little blue books before +her--there was one for each year. "Here," he said proudly, "you can go +over it yourself. It's exact." + +"It had better be!" she cried with a jesting threat and put the little +books under a flower-pot. + +A prankish mood came upon her now which she couldn't resist. + +"Now that this important business is at an end," she said, "there is +still another matter about which I must have some certainty." + +"What is that?" he said, listening intensely. + +"Have you been faithful to me in all this time?" + +He became greatly confused. The scars on his left cheek glowed like +thick, red cords. + +"Perhaps he's got a betrothed somewhere," she thought with a kind of +woeful anger, "whom he's going to throw over now." + +But it wasn't that. Not at all. "Well," he said, "there's no help for +it. I'll confess. And anyhow, _you've_ even been married in the +meantime." + +"I would find it difficult to deny that," she said. + +And then everything came to light. During the early days in Berlin he +had been very intimate with a waitress. Then, when he was an assistant +in the surgical clinic, there had been a sister who even wanted to be +married. "But I made short work of that proposition," he explained +with quiet decision. And as for the Lithuanian servant girl whom he +had in the house now, why, of course he would dismiss her next +morning, so that the house could be thoroughly aired before she +moved in. + +This was the moment in which a desire came upon her--half-ironic, +half-compassionate--to throw her arms about him and say: "You +silly boy!" + +But she did not yield and in the next moment the impulse was gone. +Only an annoyed envy remained. He dared to confess everything to +her--everything. What if she did the same? If he were to leave her in +horrified silence, what would it matter? She would have freed her +soul. Or perhaps he would flare up in grateful love? It was madness to +expect it. No power of heaven or earth could burst open the doors or +demolish the walls that towered between them for all eternity. + +A vast irony engulfed her. She could not rest her soul upon this +pigmy. She felt revengeful rather toward him--revengeful, because he +could sit there opposite her so capable and faithful, so truthful and +decent, so utterly unlike the companion whom she needed. + +Toward twilight he grew restless. He wanted to slip over to his mother +for a moment and then, for another moment, he wanted to drop in at the +fraternity inn. He had to leave at eight. + +"It would be better if you remained until to-morrow," she said with an +emphasis that gave him pause. + +"Why?" + +"If you don't feel that...." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +It wasn't to be done, he assured her, with the best will in the world. +There was an investigation in which he had to help the county-physician. +A small farmer had died suddenly of what did not seem an entirely +natural death. "I suppose," he continued, "one of those love +philtres was used with which superfluous people are put under +ground there. It's horrible that a decent person has to live +among such creatures. If you don't care to do it, I can hardly blame +you." She had grown pale and smiled weakly. She restrained him +no longer. + +"I'll be back in a week," he said, slipping on his goloshes, "and then +we can announce the engagement." + +She nodded several times but made no reply. + +The door was opened and he leaned toward her. Calmly she touched his +lips with hers. + +"You might have the announcement cards printed," he called cheerfully +from the stairs. + +Then he disappeared.... + +"Is the new uncle gone?" Amanda asked. She was sitting in her little +room, busy with her lessons. He had forgotten her. + +The mother nodded. + +"Will he come back soon?" + +Antonie shook her head. + +"I scarcely think so," she answered. + +That night she broke the purpose of her life, the purpose that had +become interwoven with a thousand others, and when the morning came +she wrote a letter of farewell to the beloved of her youth. + + + + + +THE SONG OF DEATH + + +With faint and quivering beats the clock of the hotel announced the +hour to the promenaders on the beach. + +"It is time to eat, Nathaniel," said a slender, yet well-filled-out +young woman, who held a book between her fingers, to a formless +bundle, huddled in many shawls, by her side. Painfully the bundle +unfolded itself, stretched and grew gradually into the form of a +man--hollow chested, thin legged, narrow shouldered, attired in +flopping garments, such as one sees by the thousands on the coasts of +the Riviera in winter. + +The midday glow of the sun burned down upon the yellowish gray wall of +cliff into which the promenade of Nervi is hewn, and which slopes down +to the sea in a zigzag of towering bowlders. + +Upon the blue mirror of the sea sparkled a silvery meshwork of +sunbeams. So vast a fullness of light flooded the landscape that even +the black cypress trees which stood, straight and tall, beyond the +garden walls, seemed to glitter with a radiance of their own. The tide +was silent. Only the waters of the imprisoned springs that poured, +covered with iridescent bubbles, into the hollows between the rocks, +gurgled and sighed wearily. + +The breakfast bell brought a new pulsation of life to the huddled +figures on the beach. + +"He who eats is cured," is the motto of the weary creatures whose arms +are often too weak to carry their forks to their mouths. But he who +comes to this land of eternal summer merely to ease and rest his soul, +trembles with hunger in the devouring sweetness of the air and can +scarcely await the hour of food. + +With a gentle compulsion the young woman pushed the thin, wrinkled +hand of the invalid under her arm and led him carefully through a cool +and narrow road, which runs up to the town between high garden walls +and through which a treacherous draught blows even on the +sunniest days. + +"Are you sure your mouth is covered?" she asked, adapting her springy +gait with difficulty to the dragging steps of her companion. + +An inarticulate murmur behind the heavy shawl was his only answer. + +She stretched her throat a little--a round, white, firm throat, with +two little folds that lay rosy in the rounded flesh. Closing her eyes, +she inhaled passionately the aromatic perfumes of the neighbouring +gardens. It was a strange mixture of odours, like that which is wafted +from the herb chamber of an apothecary. A wandering sunbeam glided +over the firm, short curve of her cheek, which was of almost milky +whiteness, save for the faint redness of those veins which sleepless +nights bring out upon the pallid faces of full-blooded blondes. + +A laughing group of people went swiftly by--white-breeched Englishmen +and their ladies. The feather boas, whose ends fluttered in the wind, +curled tenderly about slender throats, and on the reddish heads bobbed +little round hats, smooth and shining as the tall head-gear of a +German postillion. + +The young woman cast a wistful glance after those happy folk, and +pressed more firmly the arm of her suffering husband. + +Other groups followed. It was not difficult to overtake this pair. + +"We'll be the last, Mary," Nathaniel murmured, with the invalid's +ready reproach. + +But the young woman did not hear. She listened to a soft chatting, +which, carried along between the sounding-boards of these high walls, +was clearly audible. The conversation was conducted in French, and she +had to summon her whole stock of knowledge in order not to lose the +full sense of what was said. "I hope, Madame, that your uncle is not +seriously ill?" + +"Not at all, sir. But he likes his comfort. And since walking bores +him, he prefers to pass his days in an armchair. And it's my function +to entertain him." An arch, pouting _voila_ closed the explanation. + +Next came a little pause. Then the male voice asked: + +"And are you never free, Madame?" + +"Almost never." + +"And may I never again hope for the happiness of meeting you on the +beach?" + +"But surely you may!" + +"_Mille remerciments; Madame_." + +A strangely soft restrained tone echoed in this simple word of thanks. +Secret desires murmured in it and unexpressed confessions. + +Mary, although she did not look as though she were experienced in +flirtation or advances, made a brief, timid gesture. Then, as though +discovered and ashamed, she remained very still. + +Those two then.... That's who it was.... + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +She was a delicately made and elegant Frenchwoman. Her bodice was cut +in a strangely slender way, which made her seem to glide along like a +bird. Or was it her walk that caused the phenomenon? Or the exquisite +arching of her shoulders? Who could tell? ... She did not take her +meals at the common table, but in a corner of the dining-hall in +company of an old gouty gentleman with white stubbles on his chin and +red-lidded eyes. When she entered the hall she let a smiling glance +glide along the table, but without looking at or saluting any one. She +scarcely touched the dishes--at least from the point of view of Mary's +sturdy appetite--but even before the soup was served she nibbled at +the dates meant for dessert, and then the bracelets upon her +incredibly delicate wrists made a strange, fairy music. She wore a +wedding ring. But it had always been open to doubt whether the old +gentleman was her husband. For her demeanour toward him was that of a +spoiled but sedulously watched child. + +And he--he sat opposite Mary at table. He was a very dark young man, +with black, melancholy eyes--Italian eyes, one called them in her +Pomeranian home land. He had remarkably white, narrow hands, and a +small, curly beard, which was clipped so close along the cheeks that +the skin itself seemed to have a bluish shimmer. He had never spoken +to Mary, presumably because he knew no German, but now and then he +would let his eyes rest upon her with a certain smiling emotion which +seemed to her to be very blameworthy and which filled her with +confusion. Thus, however, it had come to pass that, whenever she got +ready to go to table her thoughts were busy with him, and it was not +rare for her to ask herself at the opening of the door to the +dining-hall: "I wonder whether he's here or will come later?" + +For several days there had been noticeable in this young man an +inclination to gaze over his left shoulder to the side table at which +the young Frenchwoman sat. And several times this glance had met an +answering one, however fleeting. And more than that! She could be seen +observing him with smiling consideration as, between the fish and the +roast, she pushed one grape after another between her lips. He was, of +course, not cognisant of all that, but Mary knew of it and was +surprised and slightly shocked. + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +And now they were both silent, thinking, obviously, that they had but +just come within hearing distance. + +Then they hurried past the slowly creeping couple. The lady looked +downward, kicking pebbles; the gentleman bowed. It was done seriously, +discreetly, as befits a mere neighbour at table. Mary blushed. That +happened often, far too often. And she was ashamed. Thus it happened +that she often blushed from fear of blushing. + +The gentleman saw it and did not smile. She thanked him for it in her +heart, and blushed all the redder, for he _might_ have smiled. + +"We'll have to eat the omelettes cold again," the invalid mumbled into +his shawls. + +This time she understood him. + +"Then we'll order fresh ones." + +"Oh," he said reproachfully, "you haven't the courage. You're always +afraid of the waiters." + +She looked up at him with a melancholy smile. + +It was true. She was afraid of the waiters. That could not be denied. +Her necessary dealings with these dark and shiny-haired gentlemen in +evening clothes were a constant source of fear and annoyance. They +scarcely gave themselves the trouble to understand her bad French and +her worse Italian. And when they dared to smile...! + +But his concern had been needless. The breakfast did not consist of +omelettes, but of macaroni boiled in water and mixed with long strings +of cheese. He was forbidden to eat this dish. + +Mary mixed his daily drink, milk with brandy, and was happy to see the +eagerness with which he absorbed the life-giving fumes. The dark +gentleman was already in his seat opposite her, and every now and then +the glance of his velvety eyes glided over her. She was more keenly +conscious of this glance than ever, and dared less than ever to meet +it. A strange feeling, half delight and half resentment, overcame her. +And yet she had no cause to complain that his attention passed the +boundary of rigid seemliness. + +She stroked her heavy tresses of reddish blonde hair, which curved +madonna-like over her temples. They had not been crimped or curled, +but were simple and smooth, as befits the wife of a North German +clergyman. She would have liked to moisten with her lips the fingers +with which she stroked them. This was the only art of the toilet which +she knew. But that would have been improper at table. + +He wore a yellow silk shirt with a pattern of riding crops. A bunch of +violets stuck in his button-hole. Its fragrance floated across +the table. + +Now the young Frenchwoman entered the hall too. Very carefully she +pressed her old uncle's arm, and talked to him in a stream of +charming chatter. + +The dark gentleman quivered. He compressed his lips but did not turn +around. Neither did the lady take any notice of him. She rolled bread +pellets with her nervous fingers, played with her bracelets and let +the dishes go by untouched. + +The long coat of cream silk, which she had put on, increased the tall +flexibility of her form. A being woven of sunlight and morning dew, +unapproachable in her serene distinction--thus she appeared to Mary, +whose hands had been reddened by early toil, and whose breadth of +shoulder was only surpassed by her simplicity of heart. + +When the roast came Nathaniel revived slightly. He suffered her to +fasten the shawl about his shoulders, and rewarded her with a +contented smile. It was her sister Anna's opinion that at such moments +he resembled the Saviour. The eyes in their blue hollows gleamed with +a ghostly light, a faint rosiness shone upon his cheek-bones, and even +the blonde beard on the sunken cheeks took on a certain glow. + +Grateful for the smile, she pressed his arm. She was satisfied with so +little. + +Breakfast was over. The gentleman opposite made his silent bow and +arose. + +"Will he salute her?" Mary asked herself with some inner timidity. + +No. He withdrew without glancing at the corner table. + +"Perhaps they have fallen out again," Mary; said to herself. The lady +looked after him. A gentle smile played about the corners of her +mouth--a superior, almost an ironical smile. Then, her eyes still +turned to the door, she leaned across toward the old gentleman in +eager questioning. + +"She doesn't care for him," Mary reasoned, with a slight feeling of +satisfaction. It was as though some one had returned to her what she +had deemed lost. + +He had been gone long, but his violets had left their fragrance. + +Mary went up to her room to get a warmer shawl for Nathaniel. As she +came out again, she saw in the dim hall the radiant figure of the +French lady come toward her and open the door to the left of her +own room. + +"So we are neighbours," Mary thought, and felt flattered by the +proximity. She would have liked to salute her, but she did not dare. + +Then she accompanied Nathaniel down to the promenade on the beach. The +hours dragged by. + +He did not like to have his brooding meditation interrupted by +questions or anecdotes. These hours were dedicated to getting well. +Every breath here cost money and must be utilised to the utmost. Here +breathing was religion, and falling ill a sin. + +Mary looked dreamily out upon the sea, to which the afternoon sun now +lent a deeper blue. Light wreaths of foam eddied about the stones. In +wide semicircles the great and shadowy arms of the mountains embraced +the sea. From the far horizon, in regions of the upper air, came from +time to time an argent gleam. For there the sun was reflected by +unseen fields of snow. + +There lay the Alps, and beyond them, deep buried in fog and winter, +lay their home land. + +Thither Mary's thoughts wandered. They wandered to a sharp-gabled +little house, groaning under great weights of snow, by the strand of a +frozen stream. The house was so deeply hidden in bushes that the +depending boughs froze fast in the icy river and were not liberated +till the tardy coming of spring. + +And a hundred paces from it stood the white church and the comfortable +parsonage. But what did she care for the parsonage, even though she +had grown to womanhood in it and was now its mistress? + +That little cottage--the widow's house, as the country folk called +it--that little cottage held everything that was dear to her at home. +There sat by the green tile oven--and oh, how she missed it here, +despite the palms and the goodly sun--her aged mother, the former +pastor's widow, and her three older sisters, dear and blonde and thin +and almost faded. There they sat, worlds away, needy and laborious, +and living but in each others' love. Four years had passed since the +father had been carried to the God's acre and they had had to leave +the parsonage. + +That had marked the end of their happiness and their youth. They could +not move to the city, for they had no private means, and the gifts of +the poor congregation, a dwelling, wood and other donations, could not +be exchanged for money. And so they had to stay there quietly and see +their lives wither. + +The candidate of theology, Nathaniel Pogge, equipped with mighty +recommendations, came to deliver his trial sermon. + +As he ascended the pulpit, long and frail, flat-chested and narrow +shouldered, she saw him for the first time. His emaciated, freckled +hand which held the hymn book, trembled with a kind of fever. But his +blue eyes shone with the fires of God. To be sure, his voice sounded +hollow and hoarse, and often he had to struggle for breath in the +middle of a sentence. But what he said was wise and austere, and found +favour in the eyes of his congregation. + +His mother moved with him into the parsonage. She was a small, fussy +lady, energetic and very business-like, who complained of what she +called previous mismanagement and seemed to avoid friendly relations. + +But her son found his way to the widow's house for all that. He found +it oftener and oftener, and the only matter of uncertainty was as to +which of the four sisters had impressed him. + +She would never have dreamed that his eye had fallen upon her, the +youngest. But a refusal was not to be thought of. It was rather her +duty to kiss his hands in gratitude for taking her off her mother's +shoulders and liberating her from a hopeless situation. Certainly she +would not have grudged her happiness to one of her sisters; if it +could be called happiness to be subject to a suspicious mother-in-law +and the nurse of a valetudinarian. But she tried to think it +happiness. And, after all, there was the widow's house, to which one +could slip over to laugh or to weep one's fill, as the mood of the +hour dictated. Either would have been frowned upon at home. + +And of course she loved him. + +Assuredly. How should she not have loved him? Had she not sworn to do +so at the altar? And then his condition grew worse from day to day and +needed her love all the more. + +It happened ever oftener that she had to get up at night to heat his +moss tea; and ever more breathlessly he cowered in the sacristy after +his weekly sermon. And that lasted until the hemorrhage came, which +made the trip south imperative. + +Ah, and with what grave anxieties had this trip been undertaken! A +substitute had to be procured. Their clothes and fares swallowed the +salary of many months. They had to pay fourteen francs board a day, +not to speak of the extra expenses for brandy, milk, fires and drugs. +Nor was this counting the physician who came daily. It was a desperate +situation. + +But he recovered. At least it was unthinkable that he shouldn't. What +object else would these sacrifices have had? + +He recovered. The sun and sea and air cured him; or, at least, her +love cured him. And this love, which Heaven had sent her as her +highest duty, surrounded him like a soft, warm garment, exquisitely +flexible to the movement of every limb, not hindering, but yielding to +the slightest impulse of movement; forming a protection against the +rough winds of the world, surer than a wall of stone or a cloak +of fire. + +The sun sank down toward the sea. His light assumed a yellow, metallic +hue, hard and wounding, before it changed and softened into violet and +purple shades. The group of pines on the beach seemed drenched in a +sulphurous light and the clarity of their outlines hurt the eye. Like + a heavy and compact mass, ready to hurtle down, the foliage of the +gardens bent over the crumbling walls. From the mountains came a gusty +wind that announced the approaching fall of night. + +The sick man shivered. Mary was about to suggest their going home, +when she perceived the form of a man that had intruded between her and +the sinking sun and that was surrounded by a yellow radiance. She +recognised the dark gentleman. + +A feeling of restlessness overcame her, but she could not turn her +eyes from him. Always, when he was near, a strange presentiment came +to her--a dreamy knowledge of an unknown land. This impression varied +in clearness. To-night she was fully conscious of it. + +What she felt was difficult to put into words. She seemed almost to be +afraid of him. And yet that was impossible, for what was he to her? +She wasn't even interested in him. Surely not. His eyes, his violet +fragrance, the flexible elegance of his movements--these things merely +aroused in her a faint curiosity. Strictly speaking, he wasn't even a +sympathetic personality, and had her sister Lizzie, who had a gift for +satire, been here, they would probably have made fun of him. The +anxious unquiet which he inspired must have some other source. Here +in the south everything was so different--richer, more colourful, more +vivid than at home. The sun, the sea, houses, flowers, faces--upon +them all lay more impassioned hues. Behind all that there must be a +secret hitherto unrevealed to her. + +She felt this secret everywhere. It lay in the heavy fragrance of the +trees, in the soft swinging of the palm leaves, in the multitudinous +burgeoning and bloom about her. It lay in the long-drawn music of the +men's voices, in the caressing laughter of the women. It lay in the +flaming blushes that, even at table, mantled her face; in the +delicious languor that pervaded her limbs and seemed to creep into the +innermost marrow of her bones. + +But this secret which she felt, scented and absorbed with every organ +of her being, but which was nowhere to be grasped, looked upon or +recognised--this secret was in some subtle way connected with the man +who stood there, irradiated, upon the edge of the cliff, and gazed +upon the ancient tower which stood, unreal as a piece of stage +scenery, upon the path. + +Now he observed her. + +For a moment it seemed as though he were about to approach to address +her. In his character of a neighbour at table he might well have +ventured to do so. But the hasty gesture with which she turned to +her sick husband forbade it. + +"That would be the last inconvenience," Mary thought, "to make +acquaintances." + +But as she was going home with her husband, she surprised herself in +speculation as to how she might have answered his words. + +"My French will go far enough," she thought. "At need I might have +risked it." + +The following day brought a sudden lapse in her husband's recovery. + +"That happens often," said the physician, a bony consumptive with the +manners of a man of the world and an equipment in that inexpensive +courtesy which doctors are wont to assume in hopeless and poorly +paying cases. + +To listen to him one would think that pulmonary consumption ended in +invariable improvement. + +"And if something happens during the night?" Mary asked anxiously. + +"Then just wait quietly until morning," the doctor said with the firm +decision of a man who doesn't like to have his sleep disturbed. + +Nathaniel had to stay in bed and Mary was forced to request the +waiters to bring meals up to their room. + +Thus passed several days, during which she scarcely left the sick-bed +of her husband. And when she wasn't writing home, or reading to him +from the hymn book, or cooking some easing draught upon the spirit +lamp, she gazed dreamily out of the window. + +She had not seen her beautiful neighbour again. With all the more +attention she sought to catch any sound, any word that might give her +a glimpse into the radiant Paradise of that other life. + +A soft singing ushered in the day. Then followed a laughing chatter +with the little maid, accompanied by the rattle of heated +curling-irons and splashing of bath sponges. Occasionally, too, there +was a little dispute on the subject of ribands or curls or such +things. Mary's French, which was derived from the _Histoire de Charles +douze,_ the _Aventures de Télémaque_ and other lofty books, found an +end when it came to these discussions. + +About half-past ten the lady slipped from her room. Then one could +hear her tap at her uncle's door, or call a laughing good-morning to +him from the hall. + +From now on the maid reigned supreme in the room. She straightened it, +sang, rattled the curling-irons even longer than for her mistress, +tripped up and down, probably in front of the mirror, and received the +kindly attentions of several waiters. From noon on everything was +silent and remained silent until dusk. Then the lady returned. The +little songs she sang were of the very kind that one might well sing +if, with full heart, one gazes out upon the sea, while the +orange-blossoms are fragrant and the boughs of the eucalyptus rustle. +They proved to Mary that in that sunny creature, as in herself, there +dwelt that gentle, virginal yearning that had always been to her a +source of dreamy happiness. + +At half-past five o'clock the maid knocked at the door. Then began +giggling and whispering as of two school-girls. Again sounded the +rattle of the curling-irons and the rustling of silken skirts. The +fragrance of unknown perfumes and essences penetrated into Mary's +room, and she absorbed it eagerly. + +The dinner-bell rang and the room was left empty. + +At ten o'clock there resounded a merry: "_Bonne nuit, mon oncle!_" + +Angeline, the maid, received her mistress at the door and performed +the necessary services more quietly than before. Then she went out, +received by the waiters, who were on the stairs. + +Then followed, in there, a brief evening prayer, carelessly and half +poutingly gabbled as by a tired child. At eleven the keyhole grew +dark. And during the hours of Mary's heaviest service, there sounded +within the peaceful drawing of uninterrupted breath. + +This breathing was a consolation to her during the terrible, creeping +hours, whose paralysing monotony was only interrupted by anxious +crises in the patient's condition. + +The breathing seemed to her a greeting from a pure and sisterly +soul--a greeting from that dear land of joy where one can laugh by day +and sing in the dusk and sleep by night. + +Nathaniel loved the hymns for the dying. + +He asserted that they filled him with true mirth. The more he could +gibe at hell or hear the suffering of the last hours put to scorn, the +more could he master a kind of grim humour. He, the shepherd of souls, +felt it his duty to venture upon the valley of the shadow to which he +had so often led the trembling candidate of death, with the boldness +of a hero in battle. + +This poor, timid soul, who had never been able to endure the angry +barking of a dog, played with the terror of death like a bull-necked +gladiator. + +"Read me a song of death, but a strengthening one," he would say +repeatedly during the day, but also at night, if he could not sleep. +He needed it as a child needs its cradle song. Often he was angry +when in her confusion and blinded by unshed tears, she chose a wrong +one. Like a literary connoisseur who rolls a Horatian ode or a +Goethean lyric upon his tongue--even thus he enjoyed these +sombre stanzas. + +There was one: "I haste to my eternal home," in which the beyond was +likened to a bridal chamber and to a "crystal sea of blessednesses." +There was another: "Greatly rejoice now, O my soul," which would admit +no redeeming feature about this earth, and was really a prayer for +release. And there was one filled with the purest folly of +Christendom: "In peace and joy I fare from hence." And this one +promised a smiling sleep. But they were all overshadowed by that +rejoicing song: "Thank God, the hour has come!" which, like a cry of +victory, points proudly and almost sarcastically to the conquered +miseries of the earth. + +The Will to Live of the poor flesh intoxicated itself with these pious +lies as with some hypnotic drug. But at the next moment it recoiled +and gazed yearningly and eager eyed out into the sweet and sinful +world, which didn't tally in the least with that description of it as +a vale of tears, of which the hymns were so full. + +Mary read obediently what he demanded. Close to her face she held the +narrow hymn-book, fighting down her sobs. For he did not think of +the tortures he prepared for his anxiously hoping wife. + +Why did he thirst for death since he knew that he _must_ not die? + +Not yet. Ah, not yet! Now that suddenly a whole, long, unlived life +lay between them--a life they had never even suspected. + +She could not name it, this new, rich life, but she felt it +approaching, day by day. It breathed its fragrant breath into her face +and poured an exquisite bridal warmth into her veins. + +It was on the fourth day of his imprisonment in his room. The +physician had promised him permission to go out on the morrow. + +His recovery was clear. + +She sat at the window and inhaled with quivering nostrils the sharp +fragrance of the burning pine cones that floated to her in +bluish waves. + +The sun was about to set. An unknown bird sat, far below, in the +orange grove and, as if drunk with light and fragrance, chirped +sleepily and ended with a fluting tone. + +Now that the great dread of the last few days was taken from her, that +sweet languor the significance of which she could not guess came over +her again. + +Her neighbour had already come home. She opened her window and closed +it, only to open it again. From time to time she sang a few brief +tones, almost like the strange bird in the grove. + +Then her door rattled and Angeline's voice cried out with jubilant +laughter: "_Une lettre, Madame, une lettre_!" + +"_Une lettre--de qui?_" + +"_De lui!_" + +Then a silence fell, a long silence. + +Who was this "he?" Surely some one at home. It was the hour of the +mail delivery. + +But the voice of the maid soon brought enlightenment. + +She had managed the affair cleverly. She had met him in the hall and +saluted him so that he had found the courage to address her. And just +now he had pressed the envelope, together with a twenty-franc piece, +into her hand. He asserted that he had an important communication to +make to her mistress, but had never found an opportunity to address +himself to her in person. + +"_Tais-toi donc--on nous entend_!" + +And from now on nothing was to be heard but whispering and giggling. + +Mary felt now a wave of hotness, started from her nape and overflowing +her face. + +Listening and with beating heart, she sat there. + +What in all the world could he have written? For that it was he, she +could no longer doubt. + +Perhaps he had declared his love and begged for the gift of her hand. + A dull feeling of pain, the cause of which was dark to her, +oppressed her heart. + +And then she smiled--a smile of renouncement, although there was +surely nothing here for her to renounce! + +And anyhow--the thing was impossible. For she, to whom such an offer +is made does not chat with a servant girl. Such an one flees into some +lonely place, kneels down, and prays to God for enlightenment and +grace in face of so important a step. + +But indeed she did send the girl away, for the latter's slippers could +he heard trailing along the hall. + +Then was heard gentle, intoxicated laughter, full of restrained +jubilation and arch triumph: "_O comme je suis heureuse! Comme je suis +heureuse!"_ + +Mary felt her eyes grow moist. She felt glad and poignantly sad at the +same time. She would have liked to kiss and bless the other woman, for +now it was clear that he had come to claim her as his bride. + +"If she doesn't pray, I will pray for her," she thought, and folded +her hands. Then a voice sounded behind her, hollow as the roll of +falling earth; rasping as coffin cords: + +"Read me a song of death, Mary." + +A shudder came over her. She jumped up. And she who had hitherto +taken up the hymn-book at his command without hesitation or complaint, +fell down beside his bed and grasped his emaciated arm: "Have pity--I +can't! I can't!" + +Three days passed. The sick man preferred to stay in bed, although his +recovery made enormous strides. Mary brewed his teas, gave him his +drops, and read him his songs of death. That one attempt at rebellion +had remained her only one. + +She heard but little of her neighbour. It seemed that that letter had +put an end to her talkative merriment. The happiness which she had so +jubilantly confessed seemed to have been of brief duration. + +And in those hours when Mary was free to pursue her dreams, she shared +the other's yearning and fear. Probably the old uncle had made +difficulties; had refused his consent, or even demanded the separation +of the lovers. + +Perhaps the dark gentleman had gone away. Who could tell? + +"What strange eyes he had," she thought at times, and whenever she +thought that, she shivered, for it seemed to her that his hot, veiled +glance was still upon her. + +"I wonder whether he is really a good man?" she asked herself. She +would have liked to answer this question in the affirmative, but there + was something that kept her from doing so. And there was another +something in her that took but little note of that aspect, but only +prayed that those two might be happy together, happy as she herself +had never been, happy as--and here lay the secret. + +It was a Sunday evening, the last one in January. + +Nathaniel lay under the bed-clothes and breathed with difficulty. His +fever was remarkably low, but he was badly smothered. + +The lamp burned on the table--a reading lamp had been procured with +difficulty and had been twice carried off in favour of wealthier +guests. Toward the bed Mary had shaded the lamp with a piece of red +blotting paper from her portfolio. A rosy shimmer poured out over the +couch of the ill man, tinted the red covers more red, and caused a +deceptive glow of health to appear on his cheek. + +The flasks and vials on the table glittered with an equivocal +friendliness, as though something of the demeanour of him who had +prescribed their contents adhered to them. + +Between them lay the narrow old hymnal and the gilt figures, "1795" +shimmered in the middle of the worn and shabby covers. + +The hour of retirement had come. The latest of the guests, returning +from the reading room, had said good-night to each other in the +hall. Angeline had been dismissed. Her giggles floated away into +silence along the bannisters and the last of her adorers tiptoed by to +turn out the lights. + +From the next room there came no sound. She was surely asleep, +although her breathing was inaudible. + +Mary sat at the table. Her head was heavy and she stared into the +luminous circle of the lamp. She needed sleep. Yet she was not sleepy. +Every nerve in her body quivered with morbid energy. + +A wish of the invalid called her to his side. + +"The pillow has a lump," he said, and tried to turn over on his other +side. + +Ah, these pillows of sea-grass. She patted, she smoothed, she did her +best, but his head found no repose. + +"Here's another night full of the torment and terror of the flesh," he +said with difficulty, mouthing each word. + +"Do you want a drink?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"The stuff is bitter--but you see--this fear--there's the air and it +fills everything--they say it's ten miles high--and a man like myself +can't--get enough--you see I'm getting greedy." The mild jest upon +his lips was so unwonted that it frightened her. + +"I'd like to ask you to open the window." + +She opposed him. + +"The night air," she urged; "the draught----" + +But that upset him. + +"If you can't do me so small a favour in my suffering--" + +"Forgive me," she said, "it was only my anxiety for you--" + +She got up and opened the French window that gave upon a narrow +balcony. + +The moonlight flooded the room. + +Pressing her hands to her breast, she inhaled the first aromatic +breath of the night air which cooled and caressed her hot face. + +"Is it better so?" she asked, turning around. + +He nodded. "It is better so." + +Then she stepped out on the balcony. She could scarcely drink her fill +of air and moonlight. + +But she drew back, affrighted. What she had just seen was like an +apparition. + +On the neighbouring balcony stood, clad in white, flowing garments of +lace, a woman's figure, and stared with wide open eyes into the +moonlight. + +It was she--her friend. + +Softly Mary stepped out again and observed her, full of shy curiosity. + The moonlight shone full upon the delicate slim face, that seemed to +shine with an inner radiance. The eye had a yearning glow. A smile, +ecstatic and fearful at once, made the lips quiver, and the hands that +grasped the iron railing pulsed as if in fear and expectation. + +Mary heard her own heart begin to beat. A hot flush rose into her +face? + +What was all that? What did it mean? + +Such a look, such a smile, she had never seen in her life. And yet +both seemed infinitely familiar to her. Thus a woman must look who-- + +She had no time to complete the thought, for a fit of coughing +recalled her to Nathaniel. + +A motion of his hand directed her to close the window and the +shutters. It would have been better never to have opened them. Better +for her, too, perhaps. + +Then she sat down next to him and held his head until the paroxysm was +over. + +He sank back, utterly exhausted. His hand groped for hers. With +abstracted caresses she touched his weary fingers. + +Her thoughts dwelt with that white picture without. That poignant +feeling of happiness that she had almost lost during the past few +days, arose in her with a hitherto unknown might. + +And now the sick man began to speak. + +"You have always been good to me, Mary," he said. "You have always +had patience with me." + +"Ah, don't speak so," she murmured. + +"And I wish I could say as full of assurance as you could before the +throne of God: 'Father, I have been true to the duty which you have +allotted to me.'" + +Her hand quivered in his. A feeling of revulsion smothered the +gentleness of their mood. His words had struck her as a reproach. + +Fulfillment of duty! That was the great law to which all human kind +was subject for the sake of God. This law had joined her hand to his, +had accompanied her into the chastity of her bridal bed, and had kept +its vigil through the years by her hearth and in her heart. And thus +love itself had not been difficult to her, for it was commanded to her +and consecrated before the face of God. + +And he? He wished for nothing more, knew nothing more. Indeed, what +lies beyond duty would probably have seemed burdensome to him, if not +actually sinful. + +But there was something more! She knew it now. She had seen it in that +glance, moist with yearning, lost in the light. + +There was something great and ecstatic and all-powerful, something +before which she quailed like a child who must go into the dark, +something that she desired with every nerve and fibre. + +Her eye fastened itself upon the purple square of blotting paper which +looked, in the light of the lamp, like glowing metal. + +She did not know how long she had sat there. It might have been +minutes or hours. Often enough the morning had caught her +brooding thus. + +The sick man's breath came with greater difficulty, his fingers +grasped hers more tightly. + +"Do you feel worse?" she asked. + +"I am a little afraid," he said; "therefore, read me----" + +He stopped, for he felt the quiver of her hand. + +"You know, if you don't want to--" He was wounded in his wretched +valetudinarian egotism, which was constantly on the scent of neglect. + +"Oh, but I do want to; I want to do everything that might----" + +She hurried to the table, pushed the glittering bottles aside, grasped +the hymnal and read at random. + +But she had to stop, for it was a prayer for rain that she had begun. + +Then, as she was turning the leaves of the book, she heard the hall +door of the next room open with infinite caution; she heard flying, +trembling footsteps cross the room from the balcony. + +_"Chut!"_ whispered a trembling voice. + +And the door closed as with a weary moan. + +What was that? + +A suspicion arose in her that brought the scarlet of shame into her +cheek. The whispering next door began anew, passionate, hasty, +half-smothered by anxiety and delight. Two voices were to be +distinguished: a lighter voice which she knew, and a duller voice, +broken into, now and then, by sonorous tones. + +The letters dislimned before her eyes. The hymn-book slipped from her +hands. In utter confusion she stared toward the door. + +_That_ really existed? Such things were possible in the world; +possible among people garbed in distinction, of careful Christian +training, to whom one looks up as to superior beings? + +There was a power upon earth that could make the delicate, radiant, +distinguished woman so utterly forget shame and dignity and +womanliness, that she would open her door at midnight to a man who had +not been wedded to her in the sight of God? + +If that could happen, what was there left to cling to in this world? +Where was one's faith in honour, fidelity, in God's grace and one's +own human worth? A horror took hold of her so oppressive that she +thought she must cry out aloud. + +With a shy glance she looked at her husband. God grant that he hear +nothing. + +She was ashamed before him. She desired to call out, to sing, laugh, +only to drown the noise of that whispering which assailed her ear like +the wave of a fiery sea. + +But no, he heard nothing. + +His sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. He was busied with his +breathing. His chest heaved and fell like a defective machine. + +He didn't even expect her to read to him now. She went up to the bed +and asked, listening with every nerve: "Do you want to sleep, +Nathaniel?" + +He lowered his eyelids in assent. + +"Yes--read," he breathed. + +"Shall I read softly?" + +Again he assented. + +"But read--don't sleep." + +Fear flickered in his eyes. + +"No, no," she stammered. + +He motioned her to go now, and again became absorbed in the problem of +breathing. + +Mary took up the hymnal. + +"You are to read a song of death," she said to herself, for her +promise must be kept. And as though she had not understood her own +admonition, she repeated: "You are to read a song of death." + +But her hearing was morbidly alert, and while the golden figures on +the book danced a ghostly dance before her eyes, she heard again what +she desired to hear. It was like the whispering of the wind against a +forbidden gate. She caught words: + +"_Je t'aime--follement--j'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour--mon +amour._" + +Mary closed her eyes. It seemed to her again as though hot waves +streamed over her. And she had lost shame, too. + +For there was something in all that which silenced reproach, which +made this monstrous deed comprehensible, even natural. If one was so +mad with love, if one felt that one could die of it! + +So that existed, and was not only the lying babble of romances? + +And her spirit returned and compared her own experience of love with +what she witnessed now. + +She had shrunk pitifully from his first kiss. When he had gone, she +had embraced her mother's knees, in fear and torment at the thought of +following this strange man. And she remembered how, on the evening of +her wedding, her mother had whispered into her ear, "Endure, my child, +and pray to God, for that is the lot of woman." And it was that +which, until to-day, she had called love. + +Oh, those happy ones there, those happy ones! + +"Mary," the hollow voice from the bed came. + +She jumped up. "What?" + +"You--don't read." + +"I'll read; I'll read." + +Her hands grovelled among the rough, sticky pages. An odour as of +decaying foliage, which she had never noted before, came from the +book. It was such an odour as comes from dark, ill-ventilated rooms, +and early autumn and everyday clothes. + +At last she found what she was seeking. "Kyrie eleison! Christe +eleison! Dear God, Father in heaven, have mercy upon us!" + +Her lips babbled what her eyes saw, but her heart and her senses +prayed another prayer: "Father in Heaven, who art love and mercy, do +not count for sin to those two that which they are committing against +themselves. Bless their love, even if they do not desire Thy blessing. +Send faithfulness into their hearts that they cleave to one another +and remain grateful for the bliss which Thou givest them. Ah, those +happy ones, those happy ones!" + +Tears came into her eyes. She bent her face upon the yellow leaves of +the book to hide her weeping. It seemed to her suddenly as though +she understood the speech spoken in this land of eternal spring by sun +and sea, by hedges of flowers and evergreen trees, by the song of +birds and the laughter of man. The secret which she had sought to +solve by day and by night lay suddenly revealed before her eyes. + +In a sudden change of feeling her heart grew cold toward that sinful +pair for which she had but just prayed. Those people became as +strangers to her and sank into the mist. Their whispering died away as +if it came from a great distance. + +It was her own life with which she was now concerned. Gray and morose +with its poverty stricken notion of duty, the past lay behind her. +Bright and smiling a new world floated into her ken. + +She had sworn to love him. She had cheated him. She had let him know +want at her side. + +Now that she knew what love was, she would reward him an hundred-fold. +She, too, could love to madness, to adoration, to death. And she must +love so, else she would die of famishment. + +Her heart opened. Waves of tenderness, stormy, thunderous, mighty, +broke forth therefrom. + +Would he desire all that love? And understand it? Was he worthy +of it? What did that matter? + +She must give, give without measure and without reward, without +thought and without will, else she would smother under all her riches. + +And though he was broken and famished and mean of mind and wretched, a +weakling in body and a dullard in soul; and though he lay there +emaciated and gasping, a skeleton almost, moveless, half given over to +dust and decay--what did it matter? + +She loved him, loved him with that new and great love because he alone +in all the world was her own. He was that portion of life and light +and happiness which fate had given her. + +She sprang up and stretched out her arms toward him. + +"You my only one, my all," she whispered, folding her hands under her +chin and staring at him. + +His chest seemed quieter. He lay there in peace. + +Weeping with happiness, she threw herself down beside him and kissed +his hands. And then, as he took no notice of all that, a slow +astonishment came over her. Also, she had an insecure feeling that his +hand was not as usual. + +Powerless to cry out, almost to breathe, she looked upon him. She +felt his forehead; she groped for his heart. All was still and cold. +Then she knew. + +The bell--the waiters--the physician--to what purpose? There was no +need of help here. She knelt down and wanted to pray, and make up for +her neglect. + +A vision arose before her: the widow's house at home; her mother; the +tile oven; her old maidenish sisters rattling their wooden crocheting +hooks--and she herself beside them, her blonde hair smoothed with +water, a little riband at her breast, gazing out upon the frozen +fields, and throttling, throttling with love. For he whom fate had +given her could use her love no longer. + +From the next room sounded the whispering, monotonous, broken, +assailing her ears in glowing waves: + +"_J'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour._" + +That was his song of death. She felt that it was her own, too. + + + + + +THE VICTIM + + +Madame Nelson, the beautiful American, had come to us from Paris, +equipped with a phenomenal voice and solid Italian technique. She had +immediately sung her way into the hearts of Berlin music-lovers, +provided that you care to call a mixture of snobbishness, +sophisticated impressionableness and goose-like imitativeness--heart. +She had, therefore, been acquired by one of our most distinguished +opera houses at a large salary and with long leaves of absence. I use +the plural of opera house in order that no one may try to scent out +the facts. + +Now we had her, more especially our world of Lotharios had her. Not +the younger sons of high finance, who make the boudoirs unsafe with +their tall collars and short breeches; nor the bearers of ancient +names who, having hung up their uniforms in the evening, assume +monocle and bracelet and drag these through second and third-class +drawing-rooms. No, she belonged to those worthy men of middle age, who +have their palaces in the west end, whose wives one treats with +infinite respect, and to whose evenings one gives a final touch of +elegance by singing two or three songs for nothing. + +Then she committed her first folly. She went travelling with an +Italian tenor. "For purposes of art," was the official version. But +the time for the trip--the end of August--had been unfortunately +chosen. And, as she returned ornamented with scratches administered by +the tenor's pursuing wife--no one believed her. + +Next winter she ruined a counsellor of a legation and magnate's son so +thoroughly that he decamped to an unfrequented equatorial region, +leaving behind him numerous promissory notes of questionable value. + +This poor fellow was revenged the following winter by a dark-haired +Roumanian fiddler, who beat her and forced her to carry her jewels to +a pawnshop, where they were redeemed at half price by their original +donour and used to adorn the plump, firm body of a stupid little +ballet dancer. + +Of course her social position was now forfeited. But then Berlin +forgets so rapidly. She became proper again and returned to her +earlier inclinations for gentlemen of middle life with extensive +palaces and extensive wives. So there were quite a few houses--none of +the strictest tone, of course--that were very glad to welcome the +radiant blonde with her famous name and fragrant and modest +gowns--from Paquin at ten thousand francs a piece. + +At the same time she developed a remarkable business instinct. Her +connections with the stock exchange permitted her to speculate without +the slightest risk. For what gallant broker would let a lovely woman +lose? Thus she laid the foundation of a goodly fortune, which was made +to assume stately proportions by a tour through the United States, and +was given a last touch of solidity by a successful speculation in +Dresden real estate. + +Furthermore, it would be unjust to conceal the fact that her most +recent admirer, the wool manufacturer Wormser, had a considerable +share in this hurtling rise of her fortunes. + +Wormser guarded his good repute carefully. He insisted that his +illegitimate inclinations never lack the stamp of highest elegance. He +desired that they be given the greatest possible publicity at +race-meets and first nights. He didn't care if people spoke with a +degree of rancour, if only he was connected with the temporary lady of +his heart. + +Now, to be sure, there was a Mrs. Wormser. She came of a good +Frankfort family. Dowry: a million and a half. She was modern to the +very tips of her nervous, restless fingers. + +This lady was inspired by such lofty social ideals that she would +have considered an inelegant _liaison_ on her husband's part, an +insult not only offered to good taste in general, but to her own in +particular. Such an one she would, never have forgiven. On the other +hand, she approved of Madame Nelson thoroughly. She considered her the +most costly and striking addition to her household. Quite +figuratively, of course. Everything was arranged with the utmost +propriety. At great charity festivals the two ladies exchanged a +friendly glance, and they saw to it that their gowns were never made +after the same model. + +Then it happened that the house of Wormser was shaken. It wasn't a +serious breakdown, but among the good things that had to be thrown +overboard belonged--at the demand of the helping Frankforters--Madame +Nelson. + +And so she waited, like a virgin, for love, like a man in the weather +bureau, for a given star. She felt that her star was yet to rise. + +This was the situation when, one day, Herr von Karlstadt had himself +presented to her. He was a captain of industry; international +reputation; ennobled; the not undistinguished son of a great father. +He had not hitherto been found in the market of love, but it was said +of him that notable women had committed follies for his sake. All in +all, he was a man who commanded the general interest in quite a +different measure from Wormser. + +But artistic successes had raised Madame Nelson's name once more, too, +and when news of the accomplished fact circulated, society found it +hard to decide as to which of the two lent the other a more brilliant +light, or which was the more to be envied. + +However that was, history was richer by a famous pair of lovers. + +But, just as there had been a Mrs. Wormser, so there was a Mrs. von +Karlstadt. + +And it is this lady of whom I wish to speak. + +Mentally as well as physically Mara von Karlstadt did not belong to +that class of persons which imperatively commands the attention of the +public. She was sensitive to the point of madness, a little sensuous, +something of an enthusiast, coquettish only in so far as good taste +demanded it, and hopelessly in love with her husband. She was in love +with him to the extent that she regarded the conquests which +occasionally came to him, spoiled as he was, as the inevitable +consequences of her fortunate choice. They inspired her with a certain +woeful anger and also with a degree of pride. + +The daughter of a great land owner in South Germany, she had been +brought up in seclusion, and had learned only very gradually how to +glide unconcernedly through the drawing-rooms. A tense smile upon her +lips, which many took for irony, was only a remnant of her old +diffidence. Delicate, dark in colouring, with a fine cameo-like +profile, smooth hair and a tawny look in her near-sighted eyes--thus +she glided about in society, and few but friends of the house took any +notice of her. + +And this woman who found her most genuine satisfaction in the +peacefulness of life, who was satisfied if she could slip into her +carriage at midnight without the annoyance of one searching glance, of +one inquiring word, saw herself suddenly and without suspecting the +reason, become the centre of a secret and almost insulting curiosity. +She felt a whispering behind her in society; she saw from her box the +lenses of many opera glasses pointing her way. + +The conversation of her friends began to teem with hints, and into the +tone of the men whom she knew there crept a kind of tender compassion +which pained her even though she knew not how to interpret it. + +For the present no change was to be noted in the demeanour of her +husband. His club and his business had always kept him away from home +a good deal, and if a few extra hours of absence were now added, it +was easy to account for these in harmless ways, or rather, not to +account for them at all, since no one made any inquiry. + +Then, however, anonymous letters began to come--thick, fragrant ones +with stamped coronets, and thin ones on ruled paper with the smudges +of soiled fingers. + +She burned the first batch; the second she handed to her husband. + +The latter, who was not far from forty, and who had trained himself to +an attitude of imperious brusqueness, straightened up, knotted his +bushy Bismarck moustache, and said: + +"Well, suppose it is true. What have you to lose?" + +She did not burst into tears of despair; she did not indulge in fits +of rage; she didn't even leave the room with quiet dignity; her soul +seemed neither wounded nor broken. She was not even affrighted. She +only thought: "I have forgiven him so much; why not forgive him +this, too?" + +And as she had shared him before without feeling herself degraded, so +she would try to share him again. + +But she soon observed that this logic of the heart would prove wanting +in this instance. + +In former cases she had concealed his weakness under a veil of care +and considerateness. The fear of discovery had made a conscious but +silent accessory of her. When it was all over she breathed deep relief +at the thought; "I am the only one who even suspected." + +This time all the world seemed invited to witness the spectacle. + +For now she understood all that, in recent days had tortured her like +an unexplained blot, an alien daub in the face which every one sees +but he whom it disfigures. Now she knew what the smiling hints of her +friends and the consoling desires of men had meant. Now she recognised +the reason why she was wounded by the attention of all. + +She was "the wife of the man whom Madame Nelson ..." + +And so torturing a shame came upon her as though she herself were the +cause of the disgrace with which the world seemed to overwhelm her. + +This feeling had not come upon her suddenly. At first a stabbing +curiosity had awakened in her a self-torturing expectation, not +without its element of morbid attraction. Daily she asked herself: +"What will develope to-day?" + +With quivering nerves and cramped heart, she entered evening after +evening, for the season was at its height, the halls of strangers on +her husband's arm. + +And it was always the same thing. The same glances that passed from +her to him and from him to her, the same compassionate sarcasm upon +averted faces, the same hypocritical delicacy in conversation, the +same sudden silence as soon as she turned to any group of people to +listen--the same cruel pillory for her evening after evening, night +after night. + +And if all this had not been, she would have felt it just the same. + +And in these drawing-rooms there were so many women whose husbands' +affairs were the talk of the town. Even her predecessor, Mrs. Wormser, +had passed over the expensive immorality of her husband with a +self-sufficing smile and a condescending jest, and the world had bowed +down to her respectfully, as it always does when scenting a +temperament that it is powerless to wound. + +Why had this martyrdom come to her, of all people? + +Thus, half against her own will, she began to hide, to refuse this or +that invitation, and to spend the free evenings in the nursery, +watching over the sleep of her boys and weaving dreams of a new +happiness. The illness of her older child gave her an excuse for +withdrawing from society altogether and her husband did not +restrain her. + +It had never come to an explanation between them, and as he was always +considerate, even tender, and as sharp speeches were not native to +her temper, the peace of the home was not disturbed. + +Soon it seemed to her, too, as though the rude inquisitiveness of the +world were slowly passing away. Either one had abandoned the critical +condition of her wedded happiness for more vivid topics, or else she +had become accustomed to the state of affairs. + +She took up a more social life, and the shame which she had felt in +appearing publicly with her husband gradually died out. + +What did not die out, however, was a keen desire to know the nature +and appearance of the woman in whose hands lay her own destiny. How +did she administer the dear possession that fate had put in her power? +And when and how would she give it back? + +She threw aside the last remnant of reserve and questioned friends. +Then, when she was met by a smile of compassionate ignorance, she +asked women. These were more ready to report. But she would not and +could not believe what she was told. He had surely not degraded +himself into being one of a succession of moneyed rakes. It was clear +to her that, in order to soothe her grief, people slandered the woman +and him with her. + +In order to watch her secretly, she veiled heavily and drove to the +theatre where Madame Nelson was singing. Shadowlike she cowered +in the depths of a box which she had rented under an assumed name and +followed with a kind of pained voluptuousness the ecstasies of love +which the other woman, fully conscious of the victorious loveliness of +her body, unfolded for the benefit of the breathless crowd. + +With such an abandoned raising of her radiant arms, she threw herself +upon _his_ breast; with that curve of her modelled limbs, she lay +before _his_ knees. + +And in her awakened a reverent, renouncing envy of a being who had so +much to give, beside whom she was but a dim and poor shadow, weary +with motherhood, corroded with grief. + +At the same time there appeared a California mine owner, a +multi-millionaire, with whom her husband had manifold business +dealings. He introduced his daughters into society and himself gave a +number of luxurious dinners at which he tried to assemble guests of +the most exclusive character. + +Just as they were about to enter a carriage to drive to the "Bristol," +to one of these dinners, a message came which forced Herr von +Karlstadt to take an immediate trip to his factories. He begged his +wife to go instead, and she did not refuse. + +The company was almost complete and the daughter of the mine owner +was doing the honours of the occasion with appropriate grace when the +doors of the reception room opened for the last time and through the +open doorway floated rather than walked--Madame Nelson. + +The petrified little group turned its glance of inquisitive horror +upon Mrs. von Karlstadt, while the mine owner's daughter adjusted the +necessary introductions with a grand air. + +Should she go or not? No one was to be found who would offer her his +arm. Her feet were paralysed. And she remained. + +The company sat down at table. And since fate, in such cases, never +does its work by halves, it came to pass that Madame Nelson was +assigned to a seat immediately opposite her. + +The people present seemed grateful to her that they had not been +forced to witness a scene, and overwhelmed her with delicate signs of +this gratitude. Slowly her self-control returned to her. She dared to +look about her observantly, and, behold, Madame Nelson appealed +to her. + +Her French was faultless, her manners equally so, and when the +Californian drew her into the conversation, she practised the delicate +art of modest considerateness to the extent of talking past Mrs. von +Karlstadt in such a way that those who did not know were not +enlightened and those who knew felt their anxiety depart. + +In order to thank her for this alleviation of a fatally painful +situation, Mrs. von Karlstadt occasionally turned perceptibly toward +the singer. For this Madame Nelson was grateful in her turn. Thus +their glances began to meet in friendly fashion, their voices to +cross, the atmosphere became less constrained from minute to minute, +and when the meal was over the astonished assembly had come to the +conclusion that Mrs. von Karlstadt was ignorant of the true state +of affairs. + +The news of this peculiar meeting spread like a conflagration. Her +women friends hastened to congratulate her on her strength of mind; +her male friends praised her loftiness of spirit. She went through the +degradation which she had suffered as though it were a triumph. Only +her husband went about for a time with an evil conscience and a +frowning forehead. + +Months went by. The quietness of summer intervened, but the memory of +that evening rankled in her and blinded her soul. Slowly the thought +arose in her which was really grounded in vanity, but looked, in its +execution, like suffering love--the thought that she would legitimise +her husband's irregularity in the face of society. + +Hence when the season began again she wrote a letter to Madame Nelson +in which she invited her, in a most cordial way, to sing at an +approaching function in her home. She proffered this request, not only +in admiration of the singer's gifts, but also, as she put it, "to +render nugatory a persistent and disagreeable rumour." + +Madame Nelson, to whom this chance of repairing her fair fame was very +welcome, had the indiscretion to assent, and even to accept the +condition of entire secrecy in regard to the affair. + +The chronicler may pass over the painful evening in question with +suitable delicacy of touch. Nothing obvious or crass took place. +Madame Nelson sang three enchanting songs, accompanied by a first-rate +pianist. A friend of the house of whom the hostess had requested this +favour took Madame Nelson to the _buffet_. A number of guileless +individuals surrounded that lady with hopeful adoration. An ecstatic +mood prevailed. The one regrettable feature of the occasion was that +the host had to withdraw--as quietly as possible, of course--on +account of a splitting head-ache. + +Berlin society, which felt wounded in the innermost depth of its +ethics, never forgave the Karlstadts for this evening. I believe that +in certain circles the event is still remembered, although years +have passed. + +Its immediate result, however, was a breach between man and wife. +Mara went to the Riviera, where she remained until spring. + +An apparent reconciliation was then patched up, but its validity was +purely external. + +Socially, too, things readjusted themselves, although people continued +to speak of the Karlstadt house with a smile that asked for +indulgence. + +Mara felt this acutely, and while her husband appeared oftener and +more openly with his mistress, she withdrew into the silence of her +inner chambers. + + * * * * * + +Then she took a lover. + +Or, rather, she was taken by him. + +A lonely evening ... A fire in the chimney ... A friend who came in by +accident ... The same friend who had taken care of Madame Nelson for +her on that memorable evening ... The fall of snow without ... A burst +of confidence ... A sob ... A nestling against the caressing hand ... +It was done ... + +Months passed. She experienced not one hour of intoxication, not one +of that inner absolution which love brings. It was moral slackness and +weariness that made her yield again.... + +Then the consequences appeared. + +Of course, the child could not, must not, be born. And it was not +born. One can imagine the horror of that tragic time: the criminal +flame of sleepless nights, the blood-charged atmosphere of guilty +despair, the moans of agony that had to be throttled behind +closed doors. + +What remained to her was lasting invalidism. + +The way from her bed to an invalid's chair was long and hard. + +Time passed. Improvements came and gave place to lapses in her +condition. Trips to watering-places alternated with visits to +sanatoriums. + +In those places sat the pallid, anaemic women who had been tortured +and ruined by their own or alien guilt. There they sat and engaged in +wretched flirtations with flighty neurasthenics. + +And gradually things went from bad to worse. The physicians shrugged +their friendly shoulders. + +And then it happened that Madame Nelson felt the inner necessity of +running away with a handsome young tutor. She did this less out of +passion than to convince the world--after having thoroughly fleeced +it--of the unselfishness of her feelings. For it was her ambition to +be counted among the great lovers of all time. + + * * * * * + +One evening von Karlstadt entered the sick chamber of his wife, sat +down beside her bed and silently took her hand. She was aware of +everything, and asked with a gentle smile upon her white lips: + +"Be frank with me: did you love her, at least?" + +He laughed shrilly. "What should have made me love this--business +lady?" + +They looked at each other long. Upon her face death had set its seal. +His hair was gray, his self-respect broken, his human worth +squandered.... + +And then, suddenly, they clung to each other, and leaned their +foreheads against each other, and wept. + + + + + +AUTUMN + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was on a sunny afternoon in October. Human masses streamed through +the alleys of the _Tiergarten_. With the desperate passion of an +ageing woman who feels herself about to be deserted, the giant city +received the last caresses of summer. A dotted throng that was not +unlike the chaos of the _Champs Élysées_, filled the broad, gray road +that leads to Charlottenburg. + +Berlin, which cannot compete with any other great European city, as +far as the luxury of vehicular traffic is concerned, seemed to have +sent out to-day all it possessed in that kind. The weather was too +beautiful for closed _coupés_, and hence the comfortable family landau +was most in evidence. Only now and then did an elegant victoria glide +along, or an aristocratic four-in-hand demand the respectful yielding +of the crowd. + +A dog-cart of dark yellow, drawn by a magnificent trotter, attracted +the attention of experts. The noble animal, which seemed to feel the +security of the guiding hand, leaned, snorting, upon its bit. With far +out-reaching hind legs, it flew along, holding its neck moveless, as +became a scion of its race. + +The man who drove was sinewy, tall, about forty, with clear, gray +eyes, sharply cut profile and a close-clipped moustache. In his thin, +brownish cheeks were several deep scars, and between the straight, +narrow brows could be seen two salient furrows. + +His attire--an asphalt-gray, thick-seamed overcoat, a coloured shirt +and red gloves--did not deny the sportsman. His legs, which pressed +against the footboard, were clad in tight, yellow riding boots. + +Many people saluted him. He returned their salutations with that +careless courtesy which belongs to those who know themselves to have +transcended the judgment of men. + +If one of his acquaintances happened to be accompanied by a lady, he +bowed deeply and respectfully, but without giving the ladies in +question a single glance. + +People looked after him and mentioned his name: Baron von Stueckrath. + +Ah, that fellow ... + +And they looked around once more. + +At the square of the _Great Star_ he turned to the left, drove along +the river, passed the well-known resort called simply _The Tents_, +and stopped not far from the building of the general staff of the army +and drew up before a large distinguished house with a fenced front +garden and cast-iron gate to the driveway. + +He threw the reins to the groom, who sat statuesquely behind him, and +said: "Drive home." + +Jumping from the cart, he observed the handle of the scraper sticking +in the top of one of his boots. He drew it out, threw it on the seat, +and entered the house. + +The janitor, an old acquaintance, greeted him with the servile +intimacy of the tip-expecting tribe. + +On the second floor he stopped and pulled the bell whose glass knob +glittered above a neat brass plate. + +"Ludovika Kraissl," was engraved upon it. + +A maid, clad with prim propriety in a white apron and white lace cap, +opened the door. + +He entered and handed her his hat. + +"Is Madame at home?" + +"No, sir." + +He looked at her through half-closed lids, and observed how her +milk-white little madonna's face flushed to the roots of her +blonde hair. + +"Where did she go?" + +"Madame meant to go to the dressmaker," the girl stuttered, "and to +make some purchases." She avoided his eyes. She had been in service +only three months and had not yet perfected herself in lying. + +He whistled a tune between his set teeth and entered the drawing-room. + +A penetrating perfume streamed forth. + +"Open the window, Meta." + +She passed noiselessly through the room and executed his command. + +Frowning, he looked about him. The empty pomp of the light woman +offended his taste. The creature who lived here had a gift for filling +every corner with banal and tasteless trivialities. + +When he had turned over the flat to her it had been a charming little +place, full of delicate tints and the simple lines of Louis Seize +furniture. In a few years she had made a junk shop of it. + +"Would you care for tea, sir, or anything else?" the girl asked. + +"No, thank you. Pull off my boots, Meta. I'll change my dress and then +go out again." + +Modestly, almost humbly, she bowed before him and set his spurred foot +gently on her lap. Then she loosened the top straps. He let his glance +rest, well pleased, upon her smooth, silvery blonde hair. + +How would it work if he sent his mistress packing and installed this +girl in her place? + +But he immediately abandoned the thought. He had seen the thing done +by some of his friends. In a single year the chastest and most modest +servant girl was so thoroughly corrupted that she had to be driven +into the streets. + +"We men seem to emit a pestilential air," he reflected, "that corrupts +every woman." + +"Or at least men of my kind," he added carefully. + +"Have you any other wishes, sir?" asked the girl, daintily wiping her +hands on her apron. + +"No, thank you." + +She turned to the door. + +"One thing more, Meta. When did Madame say she would be back?" + +Her face was again mantled with blood. + +"She didn't say anything definite. I was to make her excuses. She +intended to return home by evening, at all events." + +He nodded and the girl went with a sigh of relief, gently closing the +door behind her. + +He continued to whistle, and looked up at a hanging lamp, which +defined itself against the window niche by means of a wreath of gay +artificial flowers. + +In this hanging lamp, which hung there unnoticed and unreachable from +the floor, he had, a year ago, quite by accident, discovered a store +of love letters. His mistress had concealed them there since she +evidently did not even consider the secret drawer of her desk a +sufficiently safe repository. + +He had carefully kept the secret of the lamp to himself, and had only +fed his grim humour from time to time by observing the changes of her +heart by means of added missives. In this way he had been able to +observe the number of his excellent friends with whom she +deceived him. + +Thus his contempt for mankind assumed monstrous proportions, but this +contempt was the one emotional luxury which his egoism was still +capable of. + +He grasped a chair and seemed, for a moment about to mount to the lamp +to inspect her latest history. But he let his hand fall. After all, it +was indifferent with whom she was unfaithful to-day.... + +And he was tired. A bad day's work lay behind him. A three-year-old +full-blooded horse, recently imported from Hull, had proven itself +abnormally sensitive and had brought him to the verge of despair by +its fearfulness and its moods. He had exercised it for hours, and had +only succeeded in making the animal more nervous than before. Great +sums were at stake if the fault should prove constitutional and +not curable. + +He felt the impulse to share his worries with some one, but he knew of +no one. From the point of view of Miss Ludi's naïve selfishness, it +was simply his duty to be successful. She didn't care for the +troublesome details. At his club, again, each one was warily guarding +his own interests. Hence it was necessary there to speak carefully, +since an inadvertent expression might affect general opinion. + +He almost felt impelled to call in the maid and speak to her of his +worries. + +Then his own softness annoyed him. + +It was his wont to pass through life in lordly isolation and to +astonish the world by his successes. That was all he needed. + +Yawning he stretched himself out on the _chaise longue_. Time dragged. + +Three hours would pass until Ludi's probable return. He was so +accustomed to the woman's society that he almost longed for her. Her +idle chatter helped him. Her little tricks refreshed him. But the most +important point was this: she was no trouble. He could caress her or +beat her, call to her and drive her from him like a little dog. He +could let her feel the full measure of his contempt, and she would not +move a muscle. She was used to nothing else. + +He passed two or three hours daily in her company, for time had to be +killed somehow. Sometimes, too, he took her to the circus or the +theatre. He had long broken with the families of his acquaintance and +could appear in public with light women. + +And yet he felt a sharp revulsion at the atmosphere that surrounded +him. A strange discomfort invaded his soul in her presence. He didn't +feel degraded. He knew her to be a harlot. But that was what he +wanted. None but such an one would permit herself to be so treated. It +was rather a disguised discouragement that held him captive. + +Was life to pass thus unto the very end? Was life worth living, if it +offered a favourite of fortune, a master of his will and of his +actions, nothing better than this? + +"Surely I have the spleen," he said to himself, sprang up, and went +into the next room to change his clothes. He had a wardrobe in Ludi's +dressing room in order to be able to go out from here in the evening +unrestrainedly. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was near four o'clock. + +The sun laughed through the window. Its light was deep purple, +changing gradually to violet. Masses of leaves, red as rust, gleamed +over from the _Tiergarten_. The figure of Victory upon the triumphal +column towered toward heaven like a mighty flame. + +He felt an impulse to wander through the alleys of the park idly and +aimlessly, at most to give a coin to a begging child. + +He left the house and went past the Moltke monument and the winding +ways that lead to the Charlottenburg road. + +The ground exhaled the sweetish odour of decaying plants. Rustling +heaps of leaves, which the breezes of noon had swept together, flew +apart under his tread. The westering sun threw red splotches of light +on the faint green of the tree trunks that exuded their moisture in +long streaks. + +Here it was lonely. Only beyond the great road, whose many-coloured +pageant passed by him like a kinematograph, did he hear again in the +alleys the sounds of children's voices, song and laughter. + +In the neighbourhood of the _Rousseau Island_ he met a gentleman whom +he knew and who had been a friend of his youth. Stout of form, his +round face surrounded by a close-clipped beard, he wandered along, +leading two little girls in red, while a boy in a blue sailor suit +rode ahead, herald-like, on his father's walking-stick. + +The two men bowed to each other coolly, but without ill-will. They +were simply estranged. The busy servant of the state and father of a +family was scarcely to be found in those circles were the daily work +consists in riding and betting and gambling. + +Stueckrath sat down on a bench and gazed after the group. The little +red frocks gleamed through the bushes, and Papa's admonishing and +restraining voice was to be heard above the noise of the boy who made +a trumpet of his hollow hand. + +"Is that the way happiness looks?" he asked himself. "Can a man of +energy and action find satisfaction in these banal domesticities?" + +And strangely enough, these fathers of families, men who serve the +state and society, who occupy high offices, make important inventions +and write good books--these men have red cheeks and laughing eyes. +They do not look as though the burden which they carry squeezes the +breath of life out of them. They get ahead, in spite of the childish +hands that cling to their coats, in spite of the trivialities with +which they pass their hours of leisure. + +An indeterminate feeling of envy bored into his soul. He fought it +down and went on, right into the throng that filled the footpaths of +the _Tiergarten_. Groups of ladies from the west end went by him in +rustling gowns of black. He did not know them and did not wish to +know them. + +Here, too, he recognized fewer of the men. The financiers who have +made this quarter their own appear but rarely at the races. + +Accompanying carriages kept pace with the promenaders in order to +explain and excuse their unusual exertion. For in this world the +continued absence of one's carriage may well shake one's credit. + +The trumpeting motor-cars whirred by with gleaming brasses. Of the +beautiful women in them, little could be seen in the swift gleams. It +was the haste of a new age that does not even find time to display +its vanity. + +Upon the windows of the villas and palaces opposite lay the iridescent +glow of the evening sun. The façades took on purple colours, and the +decaying masses of vines that weighed heavily upon the fences seemed +to glow and shine from within with the very phosphorescence of decay. + +Flooded by this light, a slender, abnormally tall girl came into +Stueckrath's field of vision. She led by the arm an aged lady, who +hobbled with difficulty along the pebbly path. A closed carriage with +escutcheon and coronet followed the two slowly. + +He stopped short. An involuntary movement had passed through his body, +an impulse to turn off into one of the side paths. But he conquered +himself at once, and looked straight at the approaching ladies. + +Like a mere line of blackness, thin of limb and waist, attired with +nun-like austerity in garments that hung as if withering upon her, she +stood against the background of autumnal splendour. + +Now she recognised him, too. A sudden redness that at once gave way to +lifeless pallor flashed across her delicate, stern face. + +They looked straight into each other's eyes. + +He bowed deeply. She smiled with an effort at indifference. + +"And so she is faded, too," he thought. To be sure, her face still +bore the stamp of a simple and severe beauty, but time and grief had +dealt ungently with it. The lips were pale and anaemic, two or three +folds, sharp as if made with a knife, surrounded them. About the eyes, +whose soft and lambent light of other days had turned into a hard and +troubled sharpness, spread concentric rings, united by a net-work of +veins and wrinkles. + +He stood still, lost in thought, and looked after her. + +She still trod the earth like a queen, but her outline was detestable. + +Only hopelessness bears and attires itself thus. + +He calculated. She must be thirty-six. Thirteen years ago he had known +her and--loved her? Perhaps.... + +At least he had left her the evening before their formal betrothal was +to take place because her father had dared to remark upon his way +of life. + +He loved his personal liberty more than his beautiful and wealthy +betrothed who clung to him with every fibre of her delicate and noble +soul. One word from her, had it been but a word of farewell, would +have recalled him. That word remained unspoken. + +Thus her life's happiness had been wrecked. Perhaps his, too. What did +it matter? + +Since then he had nothing but contempt for the daughters of good +families. Other women were less exacting; they did not attempt to +circumscribe his freedom. + +He gazed after her long. Now groups of other pedestrians intervened; +now her form reappeared sharp and narrow against the trees. From time +to time she stooped lovingly toward the old lady, who, as is the wont +of aged people, trod eagerly and fearfully. + +This fragile heap of bones, with the dull eyes and the sharp voice--he +remembered the voice well: it had had part in his decision. This +strange, unsympathetic, suspicious old woman, he would have had to +call "Mother." + +What madness! What hypocrisy! + +And yet his hunger for happiness, which had not yet died, reminded him +of all that might have been. + +A sea of warm, tender and unselfish love would have flooded him and +fructified and vivified the desert of his soul. And instead of +becoming withered and embittered, she would have blossomed at his side +more richly from day to day. + +Now it was too late. A long, thin, wretched little creature--she went +her way and was soon lost in the distance. + +But there clung to his soul the yearning for a woman--one who had more +of womanliness than its name and its body, more than the harlot whom +he kept because he was too slothful to drive her from him. + +He sought the depths of his memory. His life had been rich in gallant +adventures. Many a full-blooded young woman had thrown herself at him, +and had again vanished from his life under the compulsion of his +growing coldness. + +He loved his liberty. Even an unlawful relation felt like a fetter so +soon as it demanded any sacrifice of time or interests. Also, he did +not like to give less than he received. For, since the passing of his +unscrupulous youth, he had not cared to receive the gift of a human +destiny only to throw it aside as his whim demanded. + +And therefore his life had grown quiet during the last few years. + +He thought of one of his last loves ... the very last ... and smiled. + +The image of a delicately plump brunette little woman, with dreamy +eyes and delicious little curls around her ears, rose up before him. +She dwelt in his memory as she had seemed to him: modest, soulful, all +ecstatic yielding and charming simple-heartedness. + +She did not belong to society. He had met her at a dinner given by a +financial magnate. She was the wife of an upper clerk who was well +respected in the business world. With adoring curiosity, she peeped +into the great strange world, whose doors opened to her for the +first time. + +He took her to the table, was vastly entertained by the lack of +sophistication with which she received all these new impressions, and +smilingly accepted the undisguised adoration with which she regarded +him in his character of a famous horseman and rake. + +He flirted with her a bit and that turned her head completely. In +lonely dreams her yearning for elegant and phantastic sin had grown to +enormity. She was now so wholly and irresistibly intoxicated that he +received next morning a deliciously scribbled note in which she begged +him for a secret meeting--somewhere in the neighbourhood of the +_Arkona Place_ or _Weinmeisterstrasse_, regions as unknown to him as +the North Cape or Yokohama. + +Two or three meetings followed. She appeared, modest, anxious and in +love, a bunch of violets for his button-hole in her hand, and some +surprise for her husband in her pocket. + +Then the affair began to bore him and he refused an appointment. + +One evening, during the last days of November, she appeared, thickly +veiled, in his dwelling, and sank sobbing upon his breast. She could +not live without seeing him; she was half crazed with longing; he was +to do with her what he would. He consoled her, warmed her, and kissed +the melting snow from her hair. But when in his joy at what he +considered the full possession of a jewel his tenderness went beyond +hers, her conscience smote her. She was an honest woman. Horror and +shame would drive her into her grave if she went hence an adulteress. +He must have pity on her and be content with her pure adoration. + +He had the requisite pity, dismissed her with a paternal kiss upon her +forehead, but at the same time ordered his servant to admit her +no more. + +Then came two or three letters. In her agony over the thought of +losing him, she was willing to break down the last reserve. But he did +not answer the letters. + +At the same time the thought came to him of going up the Nile in a +dahabiyeh. He was bored and had a cold. + +On the evening of his departure he found her waiting in his rooms. + +"What do you want?" + +"Take me along." + +"How do you know?" + +"Take me along." + +She said nothing else. + +The necessity of comforting her was clear. A thoroughgoing farewell +was celebrated, with the understanding that it was a farewell forever. + +The pact had been kept. After his return and for two years more she +had given no sign of life. He now thought of this woman. He felt a +poignant longing for the ripe sweetness of her oval face, the veiled +depth of her voice. He desired once more to be embraced by her firm +arms, to be kissed by her mad, hesitating lips. + +Why had he dropped her? How could he have abandoned her so rudely? + +The thought came into his head of looking her up now, in this very +hour. + +He had a dim recollection of the whereabouts of her dwelling. He could +soon ascertain its exact situation. + +Then again the problems of his racing stable came into his head. The +thought of "Maidenhood," the newly purchased horse, worried him. He +had staked much upon one throw. If he lost, it would take time to +repair the damage. + +Suddenly he found himself in a tobacconist's shop, looking for her +name in the directory. _Friedrich-Wilhelm Strasse_ was the address. +Quite near, as he had surmised. + +He was not at loss for an excuse. Her husband must still be in his +office at this hour. He would not be asked for any very strict +accounting for his action. At worst there was an approaching riding +festival, for which he could request her cooperation. + +Perhaps she had forgotten him and would revenge herself for her +humiliation. Perhaps she would be insulted and not even receive him. +At best he must count upon coldness, bitter truths and that appearance +of hatred which injured love assumes. + +What did it matter? She was a woman, after all. + +The vestibule of the house was supported by pillars; its walls were +ornately stuccoed; the floor was covered with imitation oriental rugs. +It was the rented luxury with which the better middle-class loves to +surround itself. + +He ascended three flights of stairs. + +An elderly servant in a blue apron regarded the stranger suspiciously. + +He asked for her mistress. + +She would see. Holding his card gingerly, she disappeared. + +Now _he_ would see.... + +Then, as he bent forward, listening, he heard through the open door a +cry--not of horrified surprise, but of triumph and jubilation, such a +cry of sudden joy as only a long and hopeless and unrestrainable +yearning can send forth. + +He thought he had heard wrong, but the smiling face of the returning +servant reassured him. + +He was to be made welcome. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +He entered. With outstretched hands, tears in her eyes, her face +a-quiver with a vain attempt at equanimity--thus she came forward +to meet him. + +"There you are ... there you are ... you...." + +Overwhelmed and put to shame by her forgiveness and her happiness, he +stood before her in silence. + +What could he have said to her that would not have sounded either +coarse or trivial? + +And she demanded neither explanation nor excuse. + +He was here--that was enough for her. + +As he let his glance rest upon her, he confessed that his mental image +of her fell short of the present reality. + +She had grown in soul and stature. Her features bore signs of power +and restraint, and of a strong inner tension. Her eyes sought him with +a steady light; in her bosom battled the pent-up joy. + +She asked him to be seated. "In that corner," she said, and led him to +a tiny sofa covered with glittering, light-green silk, above which +hung a withered palm-leaf fan. + +"I have sat there so often," she went on, "so often, and have thought +of you, always--always. You'll drink tea, won't you?" + +He was about to refuse, but she interrupted him. + +"Oh, but you must, you must. You can't refuse! It has been my dream +all this time to drink tea with you here just once--just once. To +serve you on this little table and hand you the basket with cakes! Do +you see this little lacquer table, with the lovely birds of inlaid +mother-of-pearl? I had that given to me last Christmas for the +especial purpose of serving you tea on it. For I said to myself: 'He +is accustomed to the highest elegance.' And you are here and are going +to refuse? No, no, that's impossible. I couldn't bear that." + +And she flew to the door and called out her orders to the servant. + +He regarded her in happy astonishment. In all her movements there was +a rhythm of unconscious loveliness, such as he had rarely seen in any +woman. With simple, unconscious elegance, her dress flowed about her +taller figure, whose severe lines were softened by the womanly curves +of her limbs. And all that belonged to him. + +He could command this radiant young body and this radiant young soul. +All that was one hunger to be possessed by him. + +"Bind her to yourself," cried his soul, "and build yourself a new +happiness!" + +Then she returned. She stopped a few paces from him, folded her hands +under her chin, gazed at him wide-eyed and whispered: "There he is! +There he is!" + +He grew uncomfortable under this expense of passion. + +"I should wager that I sit here with a foolish face," he thought. + +"But now I'm going to be sensible," she went on, sitting down on a low +stool that stood next to the sofa. "And while the tea is steeping you +must tell me how things have gone with you all this long time. For it +is a very long time since ... Ah, a long time...." + +It seemed to him that there was a reproach behind these words. He gave +but a dry answer to her question, but threw the more warmth into his +inquiries concerning her life. + +She laughed and waved her hand. + +"Oh, I!" she cried. "I have fared admirably. Why should I not? Life +makes me as happy as though I were a child. Oh, I can always be +happy.... That's characteristic of me. Nearly every day brings +something new and usually something delightful.... And since I've been +in love with you.... You mustn't take that for a banal declaration of +passion, dear friend.... Just imagine you are merely my confidant, and +that I'm telling you of my distant lover who takes little notice of a +foolish woman like myself. But then, that doesn't matter so long as I +know that he is alive and can fear and pray for him; so long as the +same morning sun shines on us both. Why, do you know, it's a most +delicious feeling, when the morning is fair and the sun golden and one +may stand at the window and say: 'Thank God, it is a beautiful day +for him.'" + +He passed his hand over his forehead. + +"It isn't possible," he thought. "Such things don't exist in this +world." + +And she went on, not thinking that perhaps he, too, would want to +speak. + +"I don't know whether many people have the good fortune to be as happy +as I. But I am, thank God. And do you know, the best part of it all +and the sunniest, I owe to you. For instance: Summer before last we +went to Heligoland, last summer to Schwarzburg.... Do you know it? +Isn't it beautiful? Well, for instance: I wake up; I open my eyes to +the dawn. I get up softly, so as not to disturb my husband, and go on +my bare feet to the window. Without, the wooded mountains lie dark and +peaceful. There is a peace over it all that draws one's tears ... it +is so beautiful ... and behind, on the horizon, there shines a broad +path of gold. And the fir-trees upon the highest peaks are sharply +defined against the gold, like little men with many outstretched arms. +And already the early piping of a few birds is heard. And I fold my +hands and think: I wonder where he is.... And if he is asleep, has he +fair dreams? Ah, if he were here and could see all this loveliness. +And I think of _him_ with such impassioned intensity that it is not +hard to believe him here and able to see it all. And at last a chill +comes up, for it is always cool in the mountains, as you know.... And +then one slips back into bed, and is annoyed to think that one must +sleep four hours more instead of being up and thinking of him. And +when one wakes up for a second time, the sun throws its golden light +into the windows, and the breakfast table is set on the balcony. And +one's husband has been up quite a while, but waits patiently. And his +dear, peaceful face is seen through the glass door. At such moments +one's heart expands in gratitude to God who has made life so beautiful +and one can hardly bear one's own happiness--and--there is the tea." + +The elderly maid came in with a salver, which she placed on the piano, +in order to set the little table properly. A beautiful napkin of +damask silk lay ready. The lady of the house scolded jestingly. It +would injure the polish of the piano, and what was her guest to think +of such shiftlessness. + +The maid went out. + +She took up the tea-kettle, and asked in a voice full of bliss. + +"Strong or weak, dear master?" + +"Strong, please." + +"One or two lumps of sugar?" + +"Two lumps, please." + +She passed him the cup with a certain solemnity. + +"So this is the great moment, the pinnacle of all happiness as I have +dreamed of it! Now, tell me yourself: Am I not to be envied? Whatever +I wish is fulfilled. And, do you know, last year in Heligoland I had a +curious experience. We capsised by the dunes and I fell into the +water. As I lost consciousness, I thought that you were there and were +saving me. Later when I lay on the beach, I saw, of course, that it +had been only a stupid old fisherman. But the feeling was so wonderful +while it lasted that I almost felt like jumping into the water again. +Speaking of water, do you take rum in your tea?" + +He shook his head. Her chatter, which at first had enraptured him, +began to fill him with sadness. He did not know how to respond. His +youthfulness and flexibility of mind had passed from him long ago: he +had long lost any inner cheerfulness. + +And while she continued to chat, his thoughts wandered, like a horse, +on their accustomed path on the road of his daily worries. He thought +of an unsatisfactory jockey, of the nervous horse. + +What was this woman to him, after all? + +"By the way," he heard her say, "I wanted to ask you whether +'Maidenhood' has arrived?" + +He sat up sharply and stared at her. Surely he had heard wrong. + +"What do you know about 'Maidenhood'?" + +"But, my dear friend, do you suppose I haven't heard of your beautiful +horse, by 'Blue Devil' out of 'Nina'? Now, do you see? I believe I +know the grandparents, too. Anyhow, you are to be congratulated on +your purchase. The English trackmen are bursting with envy. To judge +by that, you ought to have an immense success." + +"But, for heaven's sake, how do you know all this?" + +"Dear me, didn't your purchase appear in all the sporting papers?" + +"Do you read those papers?" + +"Surely. You see, here is the last number of the _Spur_, and yonder is +the bound copy of the _German Sporting News_." + +"I see; but to what purpose?" + +"Oh, I'm a sporting lady, dear master. I look upon the world of +horses--is that the right expression?--with benevolent interest. I +hope that isn't forbidden?" + +"But you never told me a word about that before!" + +She blushed a little and cast her eyes down. + +"Oh, before, before.... That interest didn't come until later." + +He understood and dared not understand. + +"Don't look at me so," she besought him; there's nothing very +remarkable about it. I just said to myself: "Well, if he doesn't want +you, at least you can share his life from afar. That isn't immodest, +is it? And then the race meets were the only occasions on which I +could see you from afar. And whenever you yourself rode--oh, how my +heart beat--fit to burst. And when you won, oh, how proud I was! I +could have cried out my secret for all the world to hear. And my poor +husband's arm was always black and blue. I pinched him first in my +anxiety and then in my joy." + +"So your husband happily shares your enthusiasm?" + +"Oh, at first he wasn't very willing. But then, he is so good, so +good. And as I couldn't go to the races alone, why he just had to go +with me! And in the end he has become as great an enthusiast as I am. +We can sit together for hours and discuss the tips. And he just +admires you so--almost more than I. Oh, how happy he'd be to meet you +here. You mustn't refuse him that pleasure. And now you're laughing at +me. Shame on you!" + +"I give you my word that nothing--" + +"Oh, but you smiled. I saw you smile." + +"Perhaps. But assuredly with no evil intention. And now you'll permit +me to ask a serious question, won't you?" + +"But surely!" + +"Do you love your husband?" + +"Why, of course I love him. You don't know him, or you wouldn't ask. +How could I help it? We're like two children together. And I don't +mean anything silly. We're like that in hours of grief, too. Sometimes +when I look at him in his sleep--the kind, careworn forehead, the +silent serious mouth--and when I think how faithfully and carefully he +guides me, how his one dreaming and waking thought is for my +happiness--why, then I kneel down and kiss his hands till he wakes up. +Once he thought it was our little dog, and murmured 'Shoo, shoo!' Oh, +how we laughed! And if you imagine that such a state of affairs can't +be reconciled with my feeling for you, why, then you're quite wrong. +_That_ is upon an entirely different plane." + +"And your life is happy?" + +"Perfectly, perfectly." + +Radiantly she folded her hands. + +She did not suspect her position on the fearful edge of an abyss. She +had not yet realised what his coming meant, nor how defenceless +she was. + +He had but to stretch out his arms and she would fly to him, ready to +sacrifice her fate to his mood. And this time there would be no +returning to that well-ordered content. + +A dull feeling of responsibility arose in him and paralysed his will. +Here was all that he needed in order to conquer a few years of new +freshness and joy for the arid desert of his life. Here was the spring +of life for which he was athirst. And he had not the courage to touch +it with his lips. + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +A silence ensued in which their mood threatened to darken and grow +turbid. + +Then he pulled himself together. + +"You don't ask me why I came, dear friend." + +She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. + +"A moment's impulse--or loneliness. That's all." + +"And a bit of remorse, don't you think so?" + +"Remorse? For what? You have nothing with which to reproach yourself. +Was not our agreement made to be kept?" + +"And yet I couldn't wholly avoid the feeling as if my unbroken silence +must have left a sting in your soul which would embitter your +memory of me." + +Thoughtfully she stirred her tea. + +"No," she said at last, "I'm not so foolish. The memory of you is a +sacred one. If that were not so, how could I have gone on living? That +time, to be sure, I wanted to take my life. I had determined on that +before I came to you. For that one can leave the man with whom.... I +never thought that possible.... But one learns a good deal--a good +deal.... And now I'll tell you how it came to pass that I didn't take +my life that night. When everything was over, and I stood in the +street before your house, I said to myself: 'Now the river is all that +is left.' In spite of rain and storm, I took an open cab and drove out +to the _Tiergarten_. Wasn't the weather horrible! At the _Great Star_ +I left the cab and ran about in the muddy ways, weeping, weeping. I +was blind with tears, and lost my way. I said to myself that I would +die at six. There were still four minutes left. I asked a policeman +the way to _Bellevue_, for I did remember that the river flows hard +behind the castle. The policeman said: 'There it is. The hour is +striking in the tower now.' And when I heard the clock strike, the +thought came to me: 'Now my husband is coming home, tired and hungry, +and I'm not there. If at least he wouldn't let his dinner get cold. +But of course he will wait. He'd rather starve than eat without me. +And he'll be frightened more and more as the hours pass. Then he'll +run to the police. And next morning he'll be summoned by telegram to +the morgue. There he'll break down helplessly and hopelessly and I +won't be able to console him.' And when I saw that scene in my mind, I +called out: 'Cab! cab!' But there was no cab. So I ran back to the +_Great Star_, and jumped into the street-car, and rode home and rushed +into his arms and cried my fill." + + +"And had your husband no questions to ask? Did he entertain no +suspicion?" + +"Oh, no, he knows me, I am taken that way sometimes. If anything moves +or delights me deeply--a lovely child on the street--you see, I +haven't any--or some glorious music, or sometimes only the park in +spring and some white statue in the midst of the greenery. Oh, +sometimes I seem to feel my very soul melt, and then he lays his cool, +firm hand on my forehead and I am healed." + +"And were you healed on that occasion, too?" + +"Yes. I was calmed at once. 'Here,' I said to myself, 'is this dear, +good man, to whom you can be kind. And as far as the other is +concerned, why it was mere mad egoism to hope to have a share in his +life. For to give love means, after all, to demand love. And what can +a poor, supersensitive thing like you mean to him? He has others. He +need but stretch forth his hand, and the hearts of countesses and +princesses are his!'" + +"Dear God," he thought, and saw the image of the purchasable harlot, +who was supposed to satisfy his heart's needs. + +But she chatted on, and bit by bit built up for him the image of him +which she had cherished during these two years. All the heroes of +Byron, Poushkine, Spielhagen and Scott melted into one glittering +figure. There was no splendour of earth with which her generous +imagination had not dowered him. + +He listened with a melancholy smile, and thought: "Thank God, she +doesn't know me. If I didn't take a bit of pleasure in my stable, the +contrast would be too terrible to contemplate." + +And there was nothing forward, nothing immodest, in this joyous +enthusiasm. It was, in fact, as if he were a mere confidant, and she +were singing a hymn in praise of her beloved. + +And thus she spared him any feeling of shame. + +But what was to happen now? + +It went without saying that this visit must have consequences of some +sort. It was her right to demand that he do not, for a second time, +take her up and then fling her aside at the convenience of a +given hour. + +Almost timidly he asked after her thoughts of the future. + +"Let's not speak of it. You won't come back, anyhow." + +"How can you think...." + +"Oh, no, you won't come back. And what is there here for you? Do you +want to be adored by me? You spoiled gentlemen soon tire of that sort +of thing.... Or would you like to converse with my husband? That +wouldn't amuse you. He's a very silent man and his reserve thaws only +when he is alone with me.... But it doesn't matter.... You have been +here. And the memory of this hour will always be dear and precious to +me. Now, I have something more in which my soul can take pleasure." + +A muffled pain stirred in him. He felt impelled to throw himself at +her feet and bury his head in her lap. But he respected the majesty of +her happiness. + +"And if I myself desired...." + +That was all he said; all he dared to say. The sudden glory in her +face commanded his silence. Under the prudence which his long +experience dictated, his mood grew calmer. + +But she had understood him. + +In silent blessedness, she leaned her head against the wall. Then she +whispered, with closed eyes: "It is well that you said no more. I +might grow bold and revive hopes that are dead. But if you...." + +She raised her eyes to his. A complete surrender to his will lay in +her glance. + +Then she raised her head with a listening gesture. + +"My husband," she said, after she had fought down a slight involuntary +fright, and said it with sincere joy. + +Three glowing fingers barely touched his. Then she hastened to the +door. + +"Guess who is here," she called out; "guess!" + +On the threshold appeared a sturdy man of middle size and middle age. +His round, blonde beard came to a grayish point beneath the chin. His +thin cheeks were yellow, but with no unhealthful hue. His quiet, +friendly eyes gleamed behind glasses that sat a trifle too far down +his nose, so that in speaking his head was slightly thrown back and +his lids drawn. + +With quiet astonishment he regarded the elegant stranger. Coming +nearer, however, he recognised him at once in spite of the twilight, +and, a little confused with pleasure, stretched out his hand. + +Upon his tired, peaceful features, there was no sign of any sense of +strangeness, any desire for an explanation. + +Stueckrath realized that toward so simple a nature craft would have +been out of place, and simply declared that he had desired to renew an +acquaintance which he had always remembered with much pleasure. + +"I don't want to speak of myself, Baron," the man replied, "but you +probably scarcely realise what pleasure you are giving my wife." And +he nodded down at her who stood beside him, apparently unconcerned +except for her wifely joy. + +A few friendly words were exchanged. Further speech was really +superfluous, since the man's unassailable innocence demanded no +caution. But Stueckrath was too much pleased with him to let him feel +his insignificance by an immediate departure. + +Hence he sat a little longer, told of his latest purchases, and was +shamed by the satisfaction with which the man rehearsed the history of +his stable. + +He did not neglect the courtesy of asking them both to call on him, +and took his leave, accompanied by the couple to the door. He could +not decide which of the two pressed his hand more warmly. + +When in the darkness of the lower hall he looked upward, he saw two +faces which gazed after him with genuine feeling. + + * * * * * + +Out amid the common noises of the street he had the feeling as though +he had returned from some far island of alien seas into the wonted +current of life. + +He shuddered at the thought of what lay before him. + +Then he went toward the _Tiergarten_. A red afterglow eddied amid the +trees. In the sky gleamed a harmony of delicate blue tints, shading +into green. Great white clouds towered above, but rested upon the +redness of the sunset. + +The human stream flooded as always between the flickering, starry +street-lamps of the _Tiergartenstrasse_. Each man and woman sought to +wrest a last hour of radiance from the dying day. + +Dreaming, estranged, Stueckrath made his way through the crowd, and +hurriedly sought a lonely footpath that disappeared in the darkness of +the foliage. + +Again for a moment the thought seared him: "Take her and rebuild the +structure of your life." + +But when he sought to hold the thought and the accompanying emotion, +it was gone. Nothing remained but a flat after taste--the dregs of a +weary intoxication. + +The withered leaves rustled beneath his tread. Beside the path +glimmered the leaf-flecked surface of a pool. + +"It would be a crime, to be sure," he said to himself, "to shatter the +peace of those two poor souls. But, after all, life is made up of such +crimes. The life of one is the other's death; one's happiness the +other's wretchedness. If only I could be sure that some happiness +would result, that the sacrifice of their idyl would bring +some profit." + +But he had too often had the discouraging and disappointing experience +that he had become incapable of any strong and enduring emotion. What +had he to offer that woman, who, in a mixture of passion, and naïve +unmorality of soul, had thrown herself at his breast? The shallow +dregs of a draught, a power to love that had been wasted in sensual +trifling--emptiness, weariness, a longing for sensation and a longing +for repose. That was all the gift he could bring her. + +And how soon would he be satiated! + +Any sign of remorse or of fear in her would suffice to make her a +burden, even a hated burden! + +"Be her good angel," he said to himself, "and let her be." He whistled +and the sound was echoed by the trees. + +He sought a bench on which to sit down, and lit a cigarette. As the +match flared up, he became conscious of the fact that night +had fallen. + +A great quietude rested upon the dying forest. Like the strains of a +beautifully perishing harmony the sound of the world's distant strife +floated into this solitude. + +Attentively Stueckrath observed the little point of glowing fire in +his hand, from which eddied upward a wreath of fragrant smoke. + +"Thank God," he said, "that at least remains--one's cigarette." + +Then he arose and wandered thoughtfully onward. + +Without knowing how he had come there, he found himself suddenly in +front of his mistress's dwelling. + +Light shimmered in her windows--the raspberry coloured light of red +curtains which loose women delight in. + +"Pah!" he said and shuddered. + +But, after all, up there a supper table was set for him; there was +laughter and society, warmth and a pair of slippers. + +He opened the gate. + +A chill wind rattled in the twigs of the trees and blew the dead +leaves about in conical whirls. They fluttered along like wandering +shadows, only to end in some puddle ... + +Autumn ... + + + + + +MERRY FOLK + + +The Christmas tree bent heavily forward. The side which was turned to +the wall had been hard to reach, and had hence not been adorned richly +enough to keep the equilibrium of the tree against the weighty twigs +of the front. + +Papa noted this and scolded. "What would Mamma say if she saw that? +You know, Brigitta, that Mamma doesn't love carelessness. If the tree +falls over, think how ashamed we shall be." + +Brigitta flushed fiery red. She clambered up the ladder once more, +stretched her arms forth as far as possible, and hung on the other +side of the tree all that she could gather. There _had_ been very +little there. But then one couldn't see.... + +And now the lights could be lit. + +"Now we will look through the presents," said Papa. "Which is Mamma's +plate?" + +Brigitta showed it to him. + +This time he was satisfied. "It's a good thing that you've put so much +marchpane on it," he said. "You know she always loves to have +something to give away." Then lie inspected the polished safety lock +that lay next to the plate and caressed the hard leaves of the potted +palm that shadowed Mamma's place at the Christmas table. + +"You have painted the flower vase for her?" he asked. + +Brigitta nodded. + +"It is exclusively for roses," she said, "and the colours are burned +in and will stand any kind of weather." + +"What the boys have made for Mamma they can bring her themselves. Have +you put down the presents from her?" + +Surely she had done so. For Fritz, there was a fishing-net and a +ten-bladed knife; for Arthur a turning lathe with foot-power, and in +addition a tall toy ship with a golden-haired nymph as figurehead. + +"The mermaid will make an impression," said Papa and laughed. + +There was something else which Brigitta had on her conscience. She +stuck her firm little hands under her apron, which fell straight down +over her flat little chest, and tripped up and down on her heels. + +"I may as well betray the secret," she said. "Mamma has something for +you, too." Papa was all ear. "What is it?" he asked, and looked over +his place at the table, where nothing was noticeable in addition to +Brigitta's fancy work. + +Brigitta ran to the piano and pulled forth from under it a paper +wrapped box, about two feet in height, which seemed singularly light +for its size. + +When the paper wrappings had fallen aside, a wooden cage appeared, in +which sat a stuffed bird that glittered with all the colours of the +rainbow. His plumage looked as though the blue of the sky and the gold +of the sun had been caught in it. + +"A roller!" Papa cried, clapping his hands, and something like joy +twitched about his mouth. "And she gives me this rare specimen?" + +"Yes," said Brigitta, "it was found last autumn in the throstle +springe. The manager kept it for me until now. And because it is so +beautiful, and, one might really say, a kind of bird of paradise, +therefore Mamma gives it to you." + +Papa stroked her blonde hair and again her face flushed. + +"So; and now we'll call the boys," he said. + +"First let me put away my apron," she cried, loosened the pin and +threw the ugly black thing under the piano where the cage had been +before. Now she stood there in her white communion dress, with its +blue ribands, and made a charming little grimace. + +"You have done quite right," said Papa. "Mamma does not like dark +colours. Everything about her is to be bright and gay." + +Now the boys were permitted to come in. + +They held their beautifully written Christmas poems carefully in their +hands and rubbed their sides timidly against the door-posts. + +"Come, be cheerful," said Papa. "Do you think your heads will be torn +off to-day?" + +And then he took them both into his arms and squeezed them a little so +that Arthur's poetry was crushed right down the middle. + +That was a misfortune, to be sure. But Papa consoled the boy, saying +that he would be responsible since it was his fault. + +Brueggemann, the long, lean private tutor, now stuck his head in the +door, too. He had on his most solemn long coat, nodded sadly like one +bidden to a funeral, and sniffed through his nose: + +"Yes--yes--yes--yes--" + +"What are you sighing over so pitiably, you old weeping-willow?" Papa +said, laughing. "There are only merry folk here. Isn't it so, +Brigitta?" + +"Of course that is so," the girl said. "And here, Doctor, is your +Christmas plate." She led him to his place where a little purse of +calf's leather peeped modestly out from, under the cakes. + +"This is your present from Mamma," she continued, handing him a long, +dark-covered book. "It is 'The Three Ways to Peace,' which you always +admired so much." + +The learned gentleman hid a tear of emotion but squinted again at the +little pocket-book. This represented the fourth way to peace, for he +had old beer debts. + +The servants were now ushered in, too. First came Mrs. Poensgen, the +housekeeper, who carried in her crooked, scarred hands a little +flower-pot with Alpine violets. + +"This is for Mamma," she said to Brigitta, who took the pot from her +and led her to her own place. There were many good things, among them +a brown knitted sweater, such as she had long desired, for in the +kitchen an east wind was wont to blow through the cracks. + +Mrs. Poensgen saw the sweater as rapidly as Brueggemann had seen the +purse. And when Brigitta said: "That is, of course, from Mamma," the +old woman was not in the least surprised. For in her fifteen years of +service she had discovered that the best things always came +from Mamma. + +The two boys, in the meantime, were anxious to ease their consciences +and recite their poems. They stood around Papa. + +He was busy with the inspectors of the estate, and did not notice them +for a moment. Then he became aware of his oversight and took the +sheets from their hands, laughing and regretting his neglect. Fritz +assumed the proper attitude, and Papa did the same, but when the +latter saw the heading of the poem: "To his dear parents at +Christmastide," he changed his mind and said: "Let's leave that till +later when we are with Mamma." + +And so the boys could go on to their places. And as their joy +expressed itself at first in a happy silence, Papa stepped up behind +them and shook them and said: "Will you be merry, you little scamps? +What is Mamma to think if you're not!" + +That broke the spell which had held them heretofore. Fritz set his +net, and when Arthur discovered a pinnace on his man-of-war, the +feeling of immeasurable wealth broke out in jubilation. + +But this is the way of the heart. Scarcely had they discovered their +own wealth but they turned in desire to that which was not for them. + +Arthur had discovered the shiny patent lock that lay between Mamma's +plate and his own. It seemed uncertain whether it was for him or her. +He felt pretty well assured that it was not for him; on the other +hand, he couldn't imagine what use she could put it to. Furthermore, +he was interested in it, since it was made upon a certain model. It is +not for nothing that one is an engineer with all one's heart and mind. + +Now, Fritz tried to give an expert opinion, too. He considered it a +combination Chubb lock. Of course that was utter nonsense. But then +Fritz would sometimes talk at random. + +However that may be, this lock was undoubtedly the finest thing of +all. And when one turned the key in it, it gave forth a soft, slow, +echoing tone, as though a harp-playing spirit sat in its steel body. + +But Papa came and put an end to their delight. + +"What are you thinking of, you rascals?" he said in jesting reproach. +"Instead of giving poor Mamma something for Christmas, you want to +take the little that she has." + +At that they were mightily ashamed. And Arthur said that of course +they had something for Mamma, only they had left it in the hall, so +that they could take it at once when they went to her. + +"Get it in," said Papa, "in order that her place may not look so +meager." They ran out and came back with their presents. + +Fritz had carved a flower-pot holder. It consisted of six parts, which +dove-tailed delicately into each other. But that was nothing compared +to Arthur's ventilation window, which was woven of horse hair. + +Papa was delighted. "Now we needn't be ashamed to be seen," he said. +Then, too, he explained to them the mechanism of the lock, and told +them that its purpose was to guard dear Mamma's flowers better. For +recently some of her favourite roses had been stolen and the only way +to account for it was that some one had a pass key. + +"So, and now we'll go to her at last," he concluded. "We have kept her +waiting long. And we will be happy with her, for happiness is the +great thing, as Mamma says.... Get us the key, Brigitta, to the gate +and the chapel." + +And Brigitta got the key to the gate and the chapel. + + + + + +THEA + +_A Phantasy over the Samovar_ + + + + +Chapter I. + + +She is a faery and yet she is none.... But she is my faery surely. + +She has appeared to me only in a few moments of life when I least +expected her. + +And when I desired to hold her, she vanished. + +Yet has she often dwelt near me. I felt her in the breath of winter +winds sweeping over sunny fields of snow; I breathed her presence in +the morning frost that clung, glittering, to my beard; I saw the +shadow of her gigantic form glide over the smoky darkness of heaven +which hung with the quietude of hopelessness over the dull white +fields; I heard the whispering of her voice in the depths of the +shining tea urn surrounded by a dancing wreath of spirit flames. + +But I must tell the story of those few times when she stood bodily +before me--changed of form and yet the same--my fate, my future as it +should have been and was not, my fear and my trust, my good and my +evil star. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was many, many years ago on a late evening near Epiphany. + +Without whirled the snow. The flakes came fluttering to the windows +like endless swarms of moths. Silently they touched the panes and then +glided straight down to earth as though they had broken their wings in +the impact. + +The lamp, old and bad for the eyes, stood on the table with its +polished brass foot and its raveled green cloth shade. The oil in the +tank gurgled dutifully. Black fragments gathered on the wick, which +looked like a stake over which a few last flames keep watch. + +Yonder in the shabby upholstered chair my mother had fallen into a +doze. Her knitting had dropped from her hands and lay on the +flower-patterned apron. The wool-thread cut a deep furrow in the skin +of her rough forefinger. One of the needles swung behind her ear. + +The samovar with its bellied body and its shining chimney stood on a +side table. From time to time a small, pale-blue cloud of steam +whirled upward, and a gentle odour of burning charcoal tickled +my nostrils. + +Before me on the table lay open Sallust's "Catilinarian Conspiracy!" +But what did I care for Sallust? Yonder on the book shelf, laughing +and alluring in its gorgeous cover stood the first novel that I ever +read--"The Adventures of Baron Muenchausen!" + +Ten pages more to construe. Then I was free. I buried my hands deep +into my breeches pockets, for I was cold. Only ten pages more. + +Yearningly I stared at my friend. + +And behold, the bookbinder's crude ornamentation--ungraceful +arabesques of vine leaves which wreathe about broken columns, a rising +sun caught in a spider's web of rays--all that configuration begins to +spread and distend until it fills the room. The vine leaves tremble in +a morning wind; a soft blowing shakes the columns, and higher and +higher mounts the sun. Like a dance of flickering torches his rays +shoot to and fro, his glistening arms are outstretched as though they +would grasp the world and pull it to the burning bosom of the sun. And +a great roaring arises in the air, muffled and deep as distant organ +strains. It rises to the blare of trumpets, it quivers with the clash +of cymbals. + +Then the body of the sun bursts open. A bluish, phosphorescent flame +hisses forth. Upon this flame stands erect in fluttering _chiton_ a +woman, fair and golden haired, swan's wings at her shoulders, a harp +held in her hand. + +She sees me and her face is full of laughter. Her laughter sounds +simple, childlike, arch. And surely, it is a child's mouth from which +it issues. The innocent blue eyes look at me in mad challenge. The +firm cheeks glow with the delight of life. Heavens! What is this +child's head doing on that body? She throws the harp upon the clouds, +sits down on the strings, scratches her little nose swiftly with her +left wing and calls out to me: "Come, slide with me!" + +I stare at her open-mouthed. Then I gather all my courage and stammer: +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Thea," she giggles. + +"But _who_ are you?" I ask again. + +"Who? Nonsense. Come, pull me! But no; you can't fly. I'll pull you. +That will go quicker." + +And she arises. Heavens! What a form! Magnificently the hips curve +over the fallen girdle; in how noble a line are throat and bosom +married. No sculptor can achieve the like. + +With her slender fingers she grasps the blue, embroidered riband that +is attached to the neck of the harp. She grasps it with the gesture of +one who is about to pull a sleigh. + +"Come," she cries again. I dare not understand her. Awkwardly I crouch +on the strings. + +"I might break them," I venture. + +"You little shaver," she laughs. "Do you know how light you are? And +now, hold fast!" + +I have scarcely time to grasp the golden frame with both hands. I hear +a mighty rustling in front of me. The mighty wings unfold. My sleigh +floats and billows in the air. Forward and upward goes the +roaring flight. + +Far, far beneath me lies the paternal hut. Scarcely does its light +penetrate to my height. Gusts of snow whirl about my forehead. Next +moment the light is wholly lost. Dawn breaks through the night. A warm +wind meets us and blows upon the strings so that they tremble gently +and lament like a sleeping child whose soul is troubled by a dream of +loneliness. + +"Look down!" cried my faery, turning her laughing little head toward +me. + +Bathed in the glow of spring I see an endless carpet of woods and +hills, fields and lakes spread out below me. The landscape gleams with +a greenish silveriness. My glance can scarcely endure the richness of +the miracle. + +"But it has become spring," I say trembling. + +"Would you like to go down?" she asks. + +"Yes, yes." + +At once we glide downward. "Guess what that is!" she says. + +An old, half-ruined castle rears its granite walls before me.... A +thousand year old ivy wreathes about its gables.... Black and white +swallows dart about the roofs.... All about arises a thicket of +hawthorn in full bloom.... Wild roses emerge from the darkness, +innocently agleam like children's eyes. A sleepy tree bends its boughs +above them. + +There is life at the edge of the ancient terrace where broad-leaved +clover grows in the broken urns. A girlish form, slender and lithe, +swinging a great, old-fashioned straw hat, having a shawl wound +crosswise over throat and waist, has stepped forth from the decaying +old gate. She carries a little white bundle under her arm, and looks +tentatively to the right and to the left as one who is about to go on +a journey. + +"Look at her," says my friend. + +The scales fall from my eyes. + +"That is Lisbeth," I cried out in delight, "who is going to the +mayor's farm." + +Scarcely have I mentioned that farm but a fragrance of roasting meat +rises up to me. Clouds of smoke roll toward me, dim flames quiver up +from it. There is a sound of roasting and frying and the seething fat +spurts high. No wonder; there's going to be a wedding. "Would you +like to see the executioner's sword?" my friend asks. + +A mysterious shudder runs down my limbs. + +"I'd like to well enough," I say fearfully. + +A rustle, a soft metallic rattle--and we are in a small, bare +chamber.... Now it is night again and the moonlight dances on the +rough board walls. + +"Look there," whispers my friend and points to a plump old chest. + +Her laughing face has grown severe and solemn. Her body seems to have +grown. Noble and lordly as a judge she stands before me. + +I stretch my neck; I peer at the chest. + +There it lies, gleaming and silent, the old sword. A beam of moonlight +glides along the old blade, drawing a long, straight line. But what do +those dark spots mean which have eaten hollows into the metal? + +"That is blood," says my friend and crosses her arms upon her breast. + +I shiver but my eyes seem to have grown fast to the terrible image. + +"Come," says Thea. + +"I can't." + +"Do you want it?" + +"What? The sword?" + +She nods. "But may you give it away? Does it belong to you?" + +"I may do anything. Everything belongs to me." + +A horror grips me with its iron fist. "Give it to me!" I cry +shuddering. + +The iron lightening gleams up and it lies cold and moist in my arms. +It seems to me as though the blood upon it began to flow afresh. + +My arms feel dead, the sword falls from them and sinks upon the +strings. These begin to moan and sing. Their sounds are almost like +cries of pain. + +"Take care," cries my friend. "The sword may rend the strings; it is +heavier than you." + +We fly out into the moonlit night. But our flight is slower than +before. My friend breathes hard and the harp swings to and fro like a +paper kite in danger of fluttering to earth. + +But I pay no attention to all that. Something very amusing captures my +senses. + +Something has become alive in the moon which floats, a golden disc, +amid the clouds. Something black and cleft twitches to and fro on her +nether side. I look more sharply and discover a pair of old +riding-boots in which stick two long, lean legs. The leather on the +inner side of the boots is old and worn and glimmers with a dull +discoloured light. "Since when does the moon march on legs through +the world?" I ask myself and begin to laugh. And suddenly I see +something black on the upper side of the moon--something that wags +funnily up and down. I strain my eyes and recognise my old friend +Muenchausen's phantastic beard and moustache. He has grasped the edges +of the moon's disc with his long lean fingers and laughs, laughs. + +"I want to go there," I call to my friend. + +She turns around. Her childlike face has now become grave and madonna +like. She seems to have aged by years. Her words echo in my ear like +the sounds of broken chimes. + +"He who carries the sword cannot mount to the moon." + +My boyish stubbornness revolts. "But I want to get to my friend +Muenchausen." + +"He who carries the sword has no friend." + +I jump up and tug at the guiding riband. The harp capsises.... I fall +into emptiness ... the sword above me ... it penetrates my body ... I +fall ... I fall.... + +"Yes, yes," says my mother, "why do you call so fearfully? I am +awake." + +Calmly she took the knitting-needle from behind her ear, stuck it into +the wool and wrapped the unfinished stocking about it. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Six years passed. Then Thea met me again. She had been gracious enough +to leave her home in the island valley of Avilion, to play the +soubrette parts in the theatre of the university town in which I was +fencing and drinking for the improvement of my mind. + +Upon her little red shoes she tripped across the stage. She let her +abbreviated skirts wave in the boldest curves. She wore black silk +stockings which flowed about her delicate ankles in ravishing lines +and disappeared all too soon, just above the knee, under the hem of +her skirt. She plaited herself two thick braids of hair the blue +ribands of which she loved to chew when the modesty that belonged to +her part overwhelmed her. She sucked her thumb, she stuck out her +tongue, she squeaked and shrieked and turned up her little nose. And, +oh, how she laughed. It was that sweet, sophisticated, vicious +soubrette laughter which begins with the musical scale and ends in +a long coo. + +Show me the man among us whom she cannot madden into love with all the +traditional tricks of her trade. Show me the student who did not keep +glowing odes deep-buried in his lecture notes--deep-buried as the +gigantic grief of some heroic soul.... + +And one afternoon she appeared at the skating rink. She wore a +gleaming plush jacket trimmed with sealskin, and a fur cap which sat +jauntily over her left ear. The hoar frost clung like diamond dust to +the reddish hair that framed her cheeks, and her pink little nose +sniffed up the cold air. + +After she had made a scene with the attendant who helped her on with +her shoes, during which such expressions as "idiot," had escaped her +sweet lips, she began to skate. A child, just learning to walk, could +have done better. + +We foolish boys stood about and stared at her. + +The desire to help her waxed in us to the intensity of madness. But +when pouting she stretched out her helpless arms at us, we recoiled as +before an evil spirit. Not one of us found the courage simply to +accept the superhuman bliss for which he had been hungering by day and +night for months. + +Then suddenly--at an awful curve--she caught her foot, stumbled, +wavered first forward and then backward and finally fell into the arms +of the most diffident and impassioned of us all. + +And that was I. + +Yes, that was I. To this day my fists are clenched with rage at the +thought that it might have been another. + +Among those who remained behind as I led her away in triumph there was +not one who could not have slain me with a calm smile. + +Under the impact of the words which she wasted upon my unworthy self, +I cast down my eyes, smiling and blushing. Then I taught her how to +set her feet and showed off my boldest manoeuvres. I also told her +that I was a student in my second semester and that it was my ambition +to be a poet. + +"Isn't that sweet?" she exclaimed. "I suppose you write poetry +already?" + +I certainly did. I even had a play in hand which treated of the fate +of the troubadour Bernard de Ventadours in rhymeless, irregular verse. + +"Is there a part for me in it?" she asked. + +"No," I answered, "but it doesn't matter. I'll put one in." + +"Oh, how sweet that is of you!" she cried. "And do you know? You must +read me the play. I can help you with my practical knowledge of +the stage." + +A wave of bliss under which I almost suffocated, poured itself out +over me. + +"I have also written poems--to you!" I stammered. The wave carried me +away. "Think of that," she said quite kindly instead of boxing my +ears. "You must send them to me." + +"Surely."... + +And then I escorted her to the door while my friends followed us at a +seemly distance like a pack of wolves. + +The first half of the night I passed ogling beneath her window; the +second half at my table, for I wanted to enrich the packet to be sent +her by some further lyric pearls. At the peep of dawn I pushed the +envelope, tight as a drum with its contents, into the pillar box and +went to cool my burning head on the ramparts. + +On that very afternoon came a violet-tinted little letter which had an +exceedingly heady fragrance and bore instead of a seal a golden lyre +transfixed by a torch. It contained the following lines: + +"DEAR POET: + +"Your verses aren't half bad; only too fiery. I'm really in a hurry to +hear your play. My old chaperone is going out this evening. I will be +at home alone and will, therefore, be bored. So come to tea at seven. +But you must give me your word of honour that you do not give away +this secret. Otherwise I won't care for you the least bit. + +"Your THEA." Thus did she write, I swear it--she, my faery, my Muse, +my Egeria, she to whom I desired to look up in adoration to the last +drawing of my breath. + +Swiftly I revised and corrected and recited several scenes of my play. +I struck out half a dozen superfluous characters and added a +dozen others. + +At half past six I set out on my way. A thick, icy fog lay in the air. +Each person that I met was covered by a cloud of icy breath. + +I stopped in front of a florist's shop. + +All the treasures of May lay exposed there on little terraces of black +velvet. There were whole beds of violets and bushes of snow-drops. +There was a great bunch of long-stemmed roses, carelessly held +together by a riband of violet silk. + +I sighed deeply. I knew why I sighed. + +And then I counted my available capital: Eight marks and seventy +pfennigs. Seven beer checks I have in addition. But these, alas, are +good only at my inn--for fifteen pfennigs worth of beer a piece. + +At last I take courage and step into the shop. + +"What is the price of that bunch of roses?" I whisper. I dare not +speak aloud, partly by reason of the great secret and partly through +diffidence. "Ten marks," says the fat old saleswoman. She lets the +palm leaves that lie on her lap slip easily into an earthen vessel and +proceeds to the window to fetch the roses. + +I am pale with fright. My first thought is: Run to the inn and try to +exchange your checks for cash. You can't borrow anything two days +before the first of the month. + +Suddenly I hear the booming of the tower clock. + +"Can't I get it a little cheaper?" I ask half-throttled. + +"Well, did you ever?" she says, obviously hurt. "There are ten roses +in the bunch; they cost a mark a piece at this time. We throw in +the riband." + +I am disconsolate and am about to leave the shop. But the old +saleswoman who knows her customers and has perceived the tale of love +lurking under my whispering and my hesitation, feels a human sympathy. + +"You might have a few roses taken out," she says. "How much would you +care to expend, young man?" + +"Eight marks and seventy pfennigs," I am about to answer in my folly. +Fortunately it occurs to me that I must keep out a tip for her maid. +The ladies of the theatre always have maids. And I might leave late. +"Seven marks," I answer therefore. + +With quiet dignity the woman extracts _four_ roses from my bunch and I +am too humble and intimidated to protest. + +But my bunch is still rich and full and I am consoled to think that a +wooing prince cannot do better. + +Five minutes past seven I stand before her door. + +Need I say that my breath gives out, that I dare not knock, that the +flowers nearly fall from my nerveless hand? All that is a matter of +course to anyone who has ever, in his youth, had dealings with faeries +of Thea's stamp. + +It is a problem to me to this day how I finally did get into her room. +But already I see her hastening toward me with laughter and burying +her face in the roses. + +"O you spendthrift!" she cries and tears the flowers from my hand in +order to pirouette with them before the mirror. And then she assumes a +solemn expression and takes me by a coat button, draws me nearer and +says: "So, and now you may kiss me as a reward." + +I hear and cannot grasp my bliss. My heart seems to struggle out at my +throat, but hard before me bloom her lips. I am brave and kiss her. +"Oh," she says, "your beard is full of snow." + +"My beard! Hear it, ye gods! Seriously and with dignity she speaks of +my beard." + +A turbid sense of being a kind of Don Juan or Lovelace arises in me. +My self-consciousness assumes heroic dimensions, and I begin to regard +what is to come with a kind of daemonic humour. + +The mist that has hitherto blurred my vision departs. I am able to +look about me and to recognise the place where I am. + +To be sure, that is a new and unsuspected world--from the rosy silken +gauze over the toilet mirror that hangs from the beaks of two floating +doves, to the row of exquisite little laced boots that stands in the +opposite corner. From the candy boxes of satin, gold, glass, saffron, +ivory, porcelain and olive wood which adorn the dresser to the edges +of white billowy skirts which hang in the next room but have been +caught in the door--I see nothing but miracles, miracles. + +A maddening fragrance assaults my senses, the same which her note +exhaled. But now that fragrance streams from her delicate, graceful +form in its princess gown of pale yellow with red bows. She dances and +flutters about the room with so mysterious and elf-like a grace as +though she were playing Puck in the "Midsummer Night's Dream," the +part in which she first enthralled my heart. + +Ah, yes, she meant to get tea. + +"Well, why do you stand there so helplessly, you horrid creature? +Come! Here is a tablecloth, here are knives and forks. I'll light the +spirit lamp in the meantime." + +And she slips by me not without having administered a playful tap to +my cheek and vanishes in the dark room of mystery. + +I am about to follow her, but out of the darkness I hear a laughing +voice: "Will you stay where you are, Mr. Curiosity?" + +And so I stand still on the threshold and lay my head against those +billowy skirts. They are fresh and cool and ease my burning forehead. + +Immediately thereafter I see the light of a match flare up in the +darkness, which for a moment sharply illuminates the folds of her +dress and is then extinguished. Only a feeble, bluish flame remains. +This flame plays about a polished little urn and illuminates dimly the +secrets of the forbidden sanctuary. I see bright billowy garments, +bunches of flowers and wreaths of leaves, with long, silken, +shimmering bands--and suddenly the Same flares high.... + +"Now I've spilt the alcohol," I hear the voice of my friend. But her +laughter is full of sarcastic arrogance. "Ah, that'll be a play of +fire!" Higher and higher mount the flames. + +"Come, jump into it!" she cries out to me, and instead of quenching +the flame she pours forth more alcohol into the furious conflagration. + +"For heaven's sake!" I cry out. + +"Do you know now who I am?" she giggles. "I'm a witch!" + +With jubilant screams she loosens her hair of reddish gold which now +falls about her with a flaming glory. She shows me her white sharp +teeth and with a sudden swift movement she springs into the flame +which hisses to the very ceiling and clothes the chamber in a garb +of fire. + +I try to call for help, but my throat is tied, my breath stops. I am +throttled by smoke and flames. + +Once more I hear her elfin laughter, but now it comes to me from +subterranean depths. The earth has opened; new flames arise and +stretch forth fiery arms toward me. + +A voice cries from the fires: "Come! Come!" And the voice is like the +sound of bells. Then suddenly the night enfolds me. + + * * * * * + +The witchery has fled. Badly torn and scarred I find myself again on +the street. Next to me on the ground lies my play. "Did you not mean +to read that to some one?" I ask myself. + +A warm and gentle air caresses my fevered face. A blossoming lilac +bush inclines its boughs above me and from afar, there where the dawn +is about to appear, I hear the clear trilling of larks. + +I dream no longer.... But the spring has come.... + + + + +Chapter IV + + +And again the years pass by. + +It was on an evening during the carnival season and the world, that +is, the world that begins with the baron and ends with the +stockjobber, floated upon waves of pleasure as bubbles of fat float on +the surface of soup. + +Whoever did not wallow in the mire was sarcastically said not to be +able to sustain himself on his legs. + +There were those among my friends who had not gone to bed till morning +for thirty days. Some of them slept only to the strains of a +world-famous virtuoso; others only in the cabs that took them from +dinner to supper. + +Whenever three of them met, one complained of shattered nerves, the +second of catarrh of the stomach, the third of both. + +That was the pace of our amusement. + +Of mine, too. + +It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. I sat in a _café_, that +famous _café_ which unacknowleged geniuses affirm to be the very +centre of all intellectual life. No spot on earth is said to have so +fruitful an effect upon one's genius. Yet, strangely enough, however +eager for inspiration I might lounge about its red upholstery, however +ardently aglow for inspiration I might drink expensive champagnes +there, yet the supreme, immense, all-liberating thought did not come. + +Nor would that thought come to me to-day. Less than ever, in fact. Red +circles danced before my eyes and in my veins hammered the throbs of +fever. It wasn't surprising. For I, too, could scarcely remember to +have slept recently. It is an effort to raise my lids. The hand that +would stroke the hair with the gesture of genius--alas, how thin the +hair is getting--sinks down in nerveless weakness. + +But I may not go home. Mrs. Elsbeth--we bachelors call her so when her +husband is not by--Mrs. Elsbeth has ordered me to be here.... She +intended to drop in at midnight on her return from dinner with her +husband. The purpose of her coming is to discuss with me the surprises +which I am to think up for her magic festival. + +She is exacting enough, the sweet little woman, but the world has it +that I love her. And in order to let the world be in the right a man +is not averse to making a fool of herself. + +The stream of humanity eddies about me. Like endless chains rotating +in different directions, thus seem the two lines of those who enter +and those who depart. There are dandies in coquettish furs, their silk +hats low on their foreheads, their canes held vertically in their +pockets. There are fashionable ladies in white silk opera cloaks set +with ermine, their eyes peering from behind Spanish veils in proud +curiosity. And all are illuminated by the spirit of festivity. + +Also one sees shop-girls, dragged here by some chance admirer. They +wear brownish cloaks, ornamented with knots--the kind that looks worn +the day it is taken from the shop. And there are ladies of that +species whom one calls "ladies" only between quotation marks. These +wear gigantic picture hats trimmed with rhinestones. The hems of their +dresses are torn and flecked with last season's mud. There are +students who desire to be intoxicated through the lust of the eye; +artists who desire to regain a lost sobriety of vision; journalists +who find stuff for leader copy in the blue despatches that are posted +here; Bohemians and loungers of every station, typical of every degree +of sham dignity and equally sham depravity. They all intermingle in +manicoloured waves. It is the mad masque of the metropolis.... + +A friend comes up to me, one of the three hundred bosom friends with +whom I am wont to swap shady stories. He is pallid with +sleeplessness, deep horizontal lines furrow his forehead, his brows +are convulsively drawn. So we all look.... + +"Look here," he says, "you weren't at the Meyers' yesterday." + +"I was invited elsewhere." + +"Where?" + +I've got to think a minute before I can remember the name. We all +suffer from weakness in the head. + +"Aha," he cries. "I'm told it was swell. Magnificent women ... and +that fellow ... er ... thought reader and what's her name ... yes ... +the Sembrich ... swell ... you must introduce me there some day...." + +Stretching his legs he sinks down at my side on the sofa. + +Silence. My bosom friend and I have exhausted the common stock of +interests. + +He has lit a cigarette and is busy catching the white clouds which he +blows from his nose with his mouth. This employment seems to satisfy +his intellect wholly. + +I, for my part, stare at the ceiling. There the golden bodies of +snakes wind themselves in mad arabesques through chains of roses. The +pretentious luxury offends my eye. I look farther, past the +candelabrum of crystal which reflects sharp rainbow tints over all, +past the painted columns whose shafts end in lily leaves as some +torturing spear does in flesh. + +My glance stops yonder on the wall where a series of fresco pictures +has been painted. + +The forms of an age that was drunk with beauty look down on me in +their victorious calm. They are steeped in the glow of a southern +heaven. The rigid splendour of the marble walls is contrasted with the +magnificent flow of long garments. + +It is a Roman supper. Rose-crowned men lean upon Indian cushions, +holding golden beakers in their right hands. Women in yielding +nakedness cower at their feet. Through the open door streams in a +Bacchic procession with fauns and panthers, the drunken Pan in its +midst. Brown-skinned slaves with leopard skins about their loins make +mad music. Among them is one who at once makes me forget the tumult. +She leans her firm, naked body surreptitiously against the pillar. Her +form is contracted with weariness. Thoughtlessly and with tired lips +she blows the _tibia_ which her nerveless hands threaten to drop. Her +cheeks are yellow and fallen in, her eyes are glassy, but upon her +forehead are seen the folds of lordship and about her mouth wreaths a +stony smile of irony. Who is she? Whence does she come? I ask myself. +But I feel a dull thud against my shoulder. My bosom friend has fallen +asleep and is using me as a pillow. + +"Look here, you!" I call out to him, for I have for the moment +forgotten his name. "Go home and go to bed." + +He starts up and gazes at me with swimming eyes. + +"Do you mean me?" he stutters. "That's a good joke." And next moment +he begins to snore. + +I hide him as well as possible with my broad back and bend down over +the glittering samovar before me. The fragrant steam prickles my nose. + +It is time that the little woman turn up if I am to amuse her guests. + +I think of the brown-skinned woman yonder in the painting. + +I open my eyes. Merciful heaven! What is that? + +For the woman stands erect now in all the firm magnificence of her +young limbs, presses her clenched fists against her forehead and +stares down at me with glowing eyes. + +And suddenly she hurls the flutes from her in a long curve and cries +with piercing voice: "No more ... I will play no more!" It is the +voice of a slave at the moment of liberation. + +"For heaven's sake, woman!" I cry. "What are you doing? You will be +slain; you will be thrown to the wild beasts!" + +She points about her with a gesture that is full of disgust and +contempt. + +Then I see what she means. All that company has fallen asleep. The men +lie back with open mouths, the goblets still in their hands. Golden +cascades of wine fall glittering upon the marble. The women writhe in +these pools of wine. But even in the intoxication of their dreams they +try to guard their elaborate hair dress. The whole mad band, musicians +and animals, lies there with limbs dissolved, panting for air, +overwhelmed by heavy sleep. + +"The way is free!" cries the flute player jubilantly and buries her +twitching fingers into the flesh of her breasts. "What is there to +hinder my flight?" + +"Whither do you flee, mad woman?" I ask. + +A gleam of dreamy ecstasy glides over her grief-worn face which seems +to flush and grow softer of outline. + +"Home--to freedom," she whispers down to me and her eyes burn. + +"Where is your home?" + +"In the desert," she cries. "Here I play for their dances; there I am +queen. My name is Thea and it is resonant through storms. They chained +me with golden chains; they lured me with golden speeches until I left +my people and followed them to their prison that is corroded with +lust.... Ah, if you knew with my knowledge, you would not sit here +either.... But the slave of the moment knows not liberty." + +"I have known it," I say drearily and let my chin sink upon the table. + +"And you are here?" + +Contemptuously she turns her back to me. + +"Take me with you, Thea," I cry, "take me with you to freedom." + +"Can you still endure it." + +"I will endure the glory of freedom or die of it." + +"Then come." + +A brown arm that seems endless stretches down to me. An iron grasp +lifts me upward. Noise and lights dislimn in the distance. + +Our way lies through great, empty, pillared halls which curve above us +like twilit cathedrals. Great stairs follow which fall into black +depths like waterfalls of stone. Thence issues a mist, green with +silvery edges.... + +A dizziness seizes me as I strive to look downward. + +I have a presentiment of something formless, limitless. A vague awe +and terror fill me. I tremble and draw back but an alien hand +constrains me. + +We wander along a moonlit street. To the right and left extend pallid +plains from which dark cypress trees arise, straight as candles. + +It is all wide and desolate like those halls. + +In the far distance arise sounds like half smothered cries of the +dying, but they grow to music. + +Shrill jubilation echoes between the sounds and it too grows to music. + +But this music is none other than the roaring of the storm which +lashes us on when we dare to faint. + +And we wander, wander ... days, weeks, months. Who knows how long? + +Night and day are alike. We do not rest; nor speak. + +The road is far behind us. We wander upon trackless wastes. + +Stonier grows the way, an eternal up and down over cliffs and through +chasms.... The edges of the weathered stones become steps for our +feet. Breathlessly we climb the peaks. Beyond them we clatter into +new abysms. + +My feet bleed. My limbs jerk numbly like those of a jumping-jack. An +earthy taste is on my lips. I have long lost all sense of progress. +One cliff is like another in its jagged nakedness; one abysm dark and +empty as another. Perhaps I wander in a circle. Perhaps this brown +hand is leading me wildly astray, this hand whose grasp has penetrated +my flesh, and has grown into it like the fetter of a slave. + +Suddenly I am alone. + +I do not know how it came to pass. + +I drag myself to a peak and look about me. + +There spreads in the crimson glow of dawn the endless, limitless rocky +desert--an ocean turned to stone. + +Jagged walls tower in eternal monotony into the immeasurable distance +which is hid from me by no merciful mist. Out of invisible abysms +arise sharp peaks. A storm from the south lashes their flanks from +which the cracked stone fragments roll to become the foundations of +new walls. + +The sun, hard and sharp as a merciless eye, arises slowly in this +parched sky and spreads its cloak of fire over this dead world. + +The stone upon which I sit begins to glow. + +The storm drives splinters of stone into my flesh. A fiery stream of +dust mounts toward me. Madness descends upon me like a fiery canopy. + +Shall I wander on? Shall I die? + +I wander on, for I am too weary to die. At last, far off, on a ledge +of rock, I see the figure of a man. + +Like a black spot it interrupts this sea of light in which the very +shadows have become a crimson glow. + +An unspeakable yearning after this man fills my soul. For his steps +are secure. His feet are scarcely lifted, yet quietly does he fare +down the chasms and up the heights. I want to rush to meet him but a +great numbness holds me back. + +He comes nearer and nearer. + +I see a pallid, bearded countenance with high cheek-bones, and +emaciated cheeks.... The mouth, delicate and gentle as a girl's, is +drawn in a quiet smile. A bitterness that has grown into love, into +renunciation, even into joy, shines in this smile. + +And at the sight of it I feel warm and free. + +And then I see his eye which is round and sharp as though open through +the watches of many nights. With moveless clearness of vision he +measures the distances, and is careless of the way which his foot +finds without groping. In this look lies a dreaming glow which turns +to waking coldness. + +A tremour of reverence seizes my body. + +And now I know who this man is who fares through the desert in +solitary thought, and to whom horror has shown the way to peace. He +looks past me! How could it be different? + +I dare not call to him. Movelessly I stare after him until his form +has vanished in the guise of a black speck behind the burning cliffs. + +Then I wander farther ... and farther ... and farther.... + + * * * * * + +It was on a grayish yellow day of autumn that I sat again after an +interval on the upholstery of the famous _café_, I looked gratefully +up at the brown slave-girl in the picture who blew upon her flutes as +sleepily and dully as ever. I had come to see her. + +I start for I feel a tap on my shoulder. + +In brick-red gloves, his silk-hat over his forehead, a little more +tired and world-worn than ever, that bosom friend whose name I have +now definitely forgotten stood before me. + +"Where the devil have you been all this time?" he asks. + +"Somewhere," I answer laughing. "In the desert." ... + +"Gee! What were you looking for there?" + +"_Myself_."... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +And ever swifter grows the beat of time's wing. My breath can no +longer keep the same pace. + +Thoughtless enjoyment of life has long yielded to a life and death +struggle. + +And I am conquered. + +Wretchedness and want have robbed me of my grasping courage and of my +laughing defiance. The body is sick and the soul droops its wings. + + * * * * * + +Midnight approaches. The smoky lamp burns more dimly and outside on +the streets life begins to die out. Only from time to time the snow +crunches and groans under the hurrying foot of some belated and +freezing passer-by. The reflection of the gas lamps rests upon the +frozen windows as though a yellow veil had been drawn before them. + +In the room hovers a dull heat which weighs upon my brain and even +amid shivering wrings the sweat from my pores. + +I had the fire started again toward night for I was cold. Now I am no +longer cold. + +"Take care of yourself," my friend the doctor said to me, "you have +worked yourself to pieces and must rest." + +"Rest, rest"--the word sounds like a gnome's irony from all the +corners of my room, for my work is heaping up on all sides and +threatens to smother me. + +"Work! Work!" This is the voice of conscience. It is like the voice of +a brutal waggoner that would urge a dead ass on to new efforts. + +My paper is in its place. For hours I have sat and stared at it +brooding. It is still empty. + +A disagreeably sweetish odour which arises impudently to my nose makes +me start. + +There stands the pitcher of herb tea which my landlady brought in at +bedtime. + +The dear woman. + +"Man must sweat," she had declared. "If the whole man gets into a +sweat then the evil humours are exuded, and the healthy sap gets a +chance to circulate until one is full of it." + +And saying that she wiped her greasy lips for she likes to eat a piece +of rye bread with goose grease before going to bed. + +Irritatedly I push the little pitcher aside, but its grayish green +steam whirls only the more pertinaciously about me. The clouds assume +strange forms, which tower over each other and whirl into each other +like the phantoms over a witch's cauldron. + +And at last the fumes combine into a human form, at first misty and +without outlines but gradually becoming more sharply defined. + +Gray, gray, gray. An aged woman. So she seems, for she creeps along by +the help of a crutch. But over her face is a veil which falls to the +ground over her arms like the folded wings of a bat. + +I begin to laugh, for spirits have long ceased to inspire me with +reverence. + +"Is your name by any chance Thea, O lovely, being?" I ask. + +"My name is Thea," she answers and her voice is weary, gentle and a +little hoarse. A caressing shimmer as of faintly blue velvet, an +insinuating fragrance as of dying mignonette--both lie in this voice. +The voice fills my heart. But I won't be taken in, least of all by +some trite ghost which is in the end only a vision of one's own +sick brain. + +"It seems that the years have not changed you for the better, charming +Thea," I say and point sarcastically to the crutch. + +"My wings are broken and I am withered like yourself." + +I laugh aloud. "So that is the meaning of this honoured apparition! A +mirror of myself--spirit of ruin--symbolic poem on the course of my +ideas. Pshaw! I know that trick. Every brainless Christmas poet knows +it, too. You must come with a more powerful charm, O Thea, spirit of +the herb tea! Good-bye. My time is too precious to be wasted by +allegories." + +"What have you to do that is so important?" she asks, and I seem to +see the gleam of her eyes behind the folds of the veil, whether in +laughter or in grief I cannot tell. + +"If I have nothing more to do, I must die," I answer and feel with joy +how my defiance steels itself in these words. + +"And that seems important to you?" + +"Moderately so." + +"Important to whom?" + +"To myself, I should think, if to no one else." + +"And your creditor--the world?" + +That was the last straw. "The world, oh, yes, the world. And what, +pray, do I owe it?" + +"Love." + +"Love? To that harlot? Because it sucked the fire from my veins and +poured poison therein instead? Behold me here--wrecked, broken, a +plaything of any wave. That is what the world has made of me!" + +"That is what you have made of yourself! ... The world came to you +as a smiling guide.... With gentle finger it touched your shoulder and +desired you to follow. But you were stubborn. You went your own way in +dark and lonely caverns where the laughing music of the fight that +sounds from above becomes a discordant thunder. You were meant to be +wise and merry; you became dull and morose." + +"Very well; if that is what I became, at least the grave will release +me from my condition." + +"Test yourself thoroughly." + +"What is the use of that now? Life has crippled me.... What of joy it +has to offer becomes torture to me.... I am cut loose from all the +kindly bonds that bind man to man.... I cannot bear hatred, neither +can I bear love.... I tremble at a thousand dangers that have never +threatened and will never threaten me. A very straw has become a cliff +to me against which I founder and against which my weary limbs are +dashed in pieces.... And this is the worst of all. My vision sees +clearly that it is but a straw before which my strength writhes in the +dust.... You have come at the right time, Thea. Perhaps you carry in +the folds of your robe some little potion that will help me to hurry +across the verge." + +Again I see a gleam behind the veil--a smiling salutation from some +far land where the sun is still shining. And my heart seems about to +burst under that gleam. But I control myself and continue to gaze at +her with bitter defiance. + +"It needs no potion," she says and raises her right hand. I have never +seen such a hand.... It seem to be without bones, formed of the petals +of flowers. The hand might seem deformed, dried and yet swollen as +with disease, were it not so delicate, so radiant, so lily-like. An +unspeakable yearning for this poor, sick hand overcomes me. I want to +fall on my knees before it and press my lips to it in adoration. But +already the hand lays itself softly upon my hair. Gentle and cool as a +flake of snow it rests there. But from moment to moment it waxes +heavier until the weight of mountains seems to lie upon my head. I can +bear the pressure no longer. I sink ... I sink ... the earth opens.... +Darkness is all about me.... + +Recovering consciousness, I find myself lying in a bed surrounded by +impenetrable night. + +"One of my stupid dreams," I say to myself and grope for the matches +on my bed side table to see the time.... But my hand strikes hard +against a board that rises diagonally at my shoulder. I grope farther +and discover that my couch is surrounded by a cloak of wood. And that +cloak is so narrow, so narrow that I can scarcely raise my head a +few inches without knocking against it. + +"Perhaps I am buried," I say to myself. "Then indeed my wish would +have fulfilled itself promptly." + +A fresh softly prickling scent of flowers, as of heather and roses, +floats to me. + +"Aha," I say to myself, "the odour of the funeral flowers. My +favourites have been chosen. That was kind of people." And, as I turn +my head the cups of flowers nestle soft and cool against my cheek. + +"You are buried amid roses," I say to myself, "as you always desired." +And then I touch my breast to discover what gift has been placed upon +my heart. My fingers touch hard, jagged leaves. + +"What is that?" I ask myself in surprise. And then I laugh shrilly. It +is a wreath of laurel leaves which has been pressed with its rough, +woodlike leaves between my body and the coffin lid. + +"Now you have everything that you so ardently desired, you fool of +fame," I cry out and a mighty irony takes hold of me. + +And then I stretch out my legs until my feet reach the end of the +coffin, nestle my head amid the flowers, and make ready to enjoy my +great peace with all my might. I am not in the least frightened or +confounded, for I know that air to breathe will never again be +lacking now for I need it no longer. I am dead, properly and honestly +dead. Nothing remains now but to flow peacefully and gently into the +realm of the unconscious, and to let the dim dream of the All surge +over me to eternity. + +"Good-night, my dear former fellow-creatures," I say and turn +contemptuously on my other side. "You can all go to the dickens for +all I care." + +And then I determine to lie still as a mouse and discover whether I +cannot find some food for the malice that yet is in me, by listening +to man's doings upon the wretched earth above me. + +At first I hear nothing but a dull roaring. But that may proceed as +well from the subterranean waters that rush through the earth +somewhere in my neighbourhood. But no, the sound comes from above. And +from time to time I also hear a rattling and hissing as of dried peas +poured out over a sieve. + +"Of course, it's wretched weather again," I say and rub my hands +comfortably, not, to be sure, without knocking my elbows against the +side of the coffin. + +"They could have made this place a little roomier," I say to myself. +But when it occurs to me that, in my character of an honest corpse, I +have no business to move at all if I want to be a credit to my +new station. + +But the spirit of contradiction in me at once rebels against this +imputation. + +"There are no classes in the grave and no prejudices," I cry. "In the +grave we are all alike, high and low, poor and rich. The rags of the +beggar, my masters, have here just the same value as the purple cloak +that falls from the shoulders of a king. Here even the laurel loses +its significance as the crown of fame and is given to many a one." + +I cease, for my fingers have discovered a riband that hangs from the +wreath. Upon it, I am justified in assuming, there is written some +flattering legend. The letters are just raised enough to be +indistinctly felt. + +I am about to call for matches, but remember just in time that it is +forbidden to strike a light in the grave or rather, that it is +contrary to the very conception of the grave to be illuminated. + +This thought annoys me and I continue: "The laurel is given here not +to the distinguished alone. I must correct that expression. Are not we +corpses distinguished _per se_ as compared to the miserable plebeian +living? Is not this noble rest in which we dwell an unmistakable sign +of true aristocracy? And the laurel that is given to the dead, that +laurel, my masters, fills me with as high a pride as would the diadem +of a king." + +I ceased. For I could rightly expect enthusiastic applause at the +close of this effective passage. But as everything remained silent I +turned my thoughts once more upon myself, and considered, too, that my +finest speeches would find no public here. + +"It is, besides, in utter contradiction to the conception of death to +deliver speeches," I said to myself, but at once I began another in +order to establish an opposition against myself. + +"Conception? What is a conception? What do I care for conceptions +here? I am dead. I have earned the sacred right to disregard such +things. If those two-penny living creatures cannot imagine the grave +otherwise than dark or the dead otherwise than dumb--why, I surely +have no need to care for that." + +In the meantime my fingers had scratched about on the riband in the +vain hope of inferring from the gilt and raised letters on the silk +their form and perhaps the significance of the legend. My efforts +were, however, without success. Hence I continued outraged: "In order +to speak first of the conception of the grave as dark, I should like +to ask any intelligent and expert corpse: 'Why is the grave +necessarily dark?' Should not we who are dead rather demand of an age +that has made such enormous progress in illumination, which has not +only invented gas and electric lighting and complied with the +regulations for the illumination of streets, but has at a slight cost +succeeded in giving to every corner of the world the very light of +day--may we not demand of such an age that it put an end to the +old-fashioned darkness of the grave? It would seem as if the most +elementary piety would constrain the living to this improvement. But +when did the living ever feel any piety? We must enforce from them the +necessaries of a worthy existence in death. Gentlemen, I close with +the last, or, I had better say, the first words of our great Goethe +whose genius with characteristic power of divination foresaw the +unworthy condition of the inner grave and the necessities of a truly +noble and liberal minded corpse. For what else could be the meaning of +that saying which I herewith inscribe upon our banner: 'Light, more +light!' That must henceforth be our device and our battlecry." + +This time, too, silence was my only answer. Whence I inferred that in +the grave there is neither striving nor crying out. Nevertheless I +continued to amuse myself and made many a speech against the +management of the cemetery, against the insufficiency of the method of +flat pressure upon the dead now in use, and similar outrages. In the +meantime the storm above had raged and the rain lashed its fill and a +peaceful silence descended upon all things. + +Only from time to time did I hear a short, dull uniform thunder, which +I could not account for until it occurred to me that it was produced +by the footsteps of passers-by, the noise of which was thus echoed and +multiplied in the earth. + +And then suddenly I heard the sound of human voices. + +The sound came vertically down to my head. + +People seemed to be standing at my grave. + +"Much I care about you," I said, and was about to continue to reflect +on my epoch-making invention which is to be called: _Helminothanatos_,' +that is to say, 'Death by Worms' and which, so soon as it is completed +is to be registered in the patent office as number 156,763. But my +desire to know what was thought of me after my death left me no rest. +Hence I did not hesitate long to press my ear to the inner roof of the +coffin in order that the sound might better reach me thus. + +Now I recognised the voices at once. + +They belonged to two men to whom I had always been united by bonds of +the tenderest sympathy and whom I was proud to call my friends. They +had always assured me of the high value which they set upon me and +that their blame--with which they had often driven me to secret +despair--proceeded wholly from helpful and unselfish love. + +"Poor devil," one of them said, in a tone of such humiliating +compassion that I was ashamed of myself in the very grave. + +"He had to bite the dust pretty early," the other sighed. "But it was +better so both for him and for myself. I could not have held him above +water much longer." ... + +From sheer astonishment I knocked my head so hard against the side of +the coffin that a bump remained. + +"When did you ever hold me above water?" I wanted to cry out but I +considered that they could not hear me. + +Then the first one spoke again. + +"I often found it hard enough to aid him with my counsel without +wounding his vanity. For we know how vain he was and how taken +with himself." + +"And yet he achieved little enough," the other answered. "He ran after +women and sought the society of inferior persons for the sake of their +flattery. It always astonished me anew when he managed to produce +something of approximately solid worth. For neither his character nor +his intelligence gave promise of it." + +"In your wonderful charity you are capable of finding something +excellent even in his work," the other replied. "But let us be frank: +The only thing he sometimes succeeded in doing was to flatter the +crude instincts of the mob. True earnestness or conviction he never +possessed." + +"I never claimed either for him," the first eagerly broke in. "Only I +didn't want to deny the poor fellow that bit of piety which is +demanded. _De mortuis_----" + +And both voices withdraw into the distance. + +"O you grave-robbers!" I cried and shook my fist after them. "Now I +know what your friendship was worth. Now it is clear to me how you +humiliated me upon all my ways, and how when I came to you in hours of +depression you administered a kick in order that you might increase in +stature at my expense! Oh, if I could only."... + +I ceased laughing. + +"What silly wishes, old boy!" I admonished myself. "Even if you could +master your friends; your enemies would drive you into the grave a +thousand times over." + +And I determined to devote my whole thought henceforth to the +epoch-making invention of my impregnating fluid called +"_Helminothanatos"_ or "Death by Worms." + +But new voices roused me from my meditation. + +I listened. + +"That's where what's his name is buried," said one. + +"Quite right," said the other. "I gave him many a good hit while he +was among us--more than I care to think about to-day. But he was an +able fellow. His worst enemy couldn't deny that." + +I started and shuddered. + +I knew well who he was: my bitterest opponent who tortured me so long +with open lashes and hidden stabs that I almost ended by thinking I +deserved nothing else. + +And he had a good word to say for me--_he?_ + +His voice went on. "To-day that he is out of our way we may as well +confess that we always liked him a great deal. He took life and work +seriously and never used an indecent weapon against us. And if the +tactics of war had not forced us to represent his excellences as +faults, we might have learned a good deal from him." + +"It's a great pity," said the other. "If, before everything was at +sixes and sevens, he could have been persuaded to adopt our views, we +could perhaps have had the pleasure of receiving him into our +fighting lines." + +"With open arms," was the answer. And then in solemn tone: + +"Peace be to his ashes." + +The other echoed: "Peace ..." + +And then they went on.... + +I hid my face in my hands. My breast seemed to expand and gently, very +gently something began to beat in it which had rested in silent +numbness since I lay down here. + +"So that is the nature of the world's judgment," I said to myself. "I +should have known that before. With head proudly erect I would have +gone my way, uninfluenced by the glitter of false affection as by the +blindness of wildly aiming hatred. I would have shaken praise and +blame from me with the same joyous laugh and sought the norm of +achievement in myself alone. Oh, if only I could live once more! If +only there were a way out of these accursed six boards!" + +In impotent rage I pounded the coffin top with my fist and only +succeeded in running a splinter into my finger. + +And then there came over me once more, even though it came +hesitatingly and against my will, a delightful consciousness of that +eternal peace into which I had entered. + +"Would it be worth the trouble after all," I said to myself, "to +return to the fray once more, even if I were a thousand times certain +of victory? What is this victory worth? Even if I succeed in being the +first to mount some height untrod hitherto by any human foot, yet the +next generation will climb on my shoulders and hurl me down into the +abysm of oblivion. There I could lie, lonely and helpless, until the +six boards are needed again to help me to my happiness. And so let me +be content and wait until that thing in my breast which has began to +beat so impudently, has become quiet once more." + +I stretched myself out, folded my hands, and determined to hold no +more incendiary speeches and thus counteract the trade of the worms, +but rather to doze quietly into the All. + +Thus I lay again for a space. + +Then arose somewhere a strange musical sound, which penetrated my +dreamy state but partially at first before it awakened me wholly from +my slumber. + +What was that? A signal of the last day? + +"It's all the same to me," I said and stretched myself. "Whether it's +heaven or hell--it will be a new experience." + +But the sound that had awakened me had nothing in common with the +metallic blare of trumpets which religious guides have taught us +to expect. + +Gentle and insinuating, now like the tones of flutes played by +children, now like the sobbing of a girl's voice, now like the +caressing sweetness with which a mother speaks to her little child--so +infinitely manifold but always full of sweet and yearning magic--alien +and yet dear and familiar--such was the music that came to my ear. + +"Where have I heard that before?" I asked myself, listening. + +And as I thought and thought, an evening of spring arose before my +soul--an evening out of a far and perished time.... I had wandered +along the bank of a steaming river. The sunset which shone through the +jagged young leaves spread a purple carpet over the quiet waters upon +which only a swift insect would here and there create circular eddies. +At every step I took the dew sprang up before me in gleaming pearls, +and a fragrance of wild thyme and roses floated through the air.... + +There it must have been that I heard this music for the first time. + +And now it was all clear: The nightingale was singing ... the +nightingale. + +And so spring has come to the upper world. + +Perhaps it is an evening of May even as that which my spirit recalls. + +Blue flowers stand upon the meadows.... Goldenrod and lilac mix their +blossoms into gold and violet wreaths.... Like torn veils the +delicate flakings of the buttercups fly through the twilight.... + +Surely from the village sounds the stork's rattle ... and surely the +distant strains of an accordion are heard.... + +But the nightingale up there cares little what other music may be +made. It sobs and jubilates louder and louder, as if it knew that in +the poor dead man's bosom down here the heart beats once more stormily +against his side. + +And at every throb of that heart a hot stream glides through my veins. +It penetrates farther and farther until it will have filled my whole +body. It seems to me as though I must cry out with yearning and +remorse. But my dull stubbornness arises once more: "You have what you +desired. So lie here and be still, even though you should be condemned +to hear the nightingale's song until the end of the world." + +The song has grown much softer. + +Obviously the human steps that now encircle my grave with their sullen +resonance have driven the bird to a more distant bush. + +"Who may it be," I ask myself, "that thinks of wandering to my place +of rest on an evening of May when the nightingales are singing." + +And I listen anew. It sounds almost as though some one up there were +weeping. + +Did I not go my earthly road lonely and unloved? Did I not die in the +house of a stranger? Was I not huddled away in the earth by strangers? +Who is it that comes to weep at my grave? + +And each one of the tears that is shed above there falls glowing upon +my breast.... + +And my breast rises in a convulsive struggle but the coffin lid pushes +it back. I strain my head against the wood to burst it, but it lies +upon me like a mountain. My body seems to burn. To protect it I burrow +in the saw-dust which fills mouth and eyes with its biting chaff. + +I try to cry out but my throat is paralysed. + +I want to pray but instead of thoughts the lightnings of madness shoot +through my brain. + +I feel only one thing that threatens to dissolve all my body into a +stream of flame and that penetrates my whole being with immeasurable +might: "I must live ... live...!" + +There, in my sorest need, I think of the faery who upon my desire +brought me by magic to my grave. + +"Thea, I beseech you. I have sinned against the world and myself. It +was cowardly and slothful to doubt of life so long as a spark of life +and power glowed in my veins. Let me arise, I beseech you, from the +torments of hell--let me arise!" + +And behold: the boards of the coffin fall from me like a wornout +garment. The earth rolls down on both sides of me and unites beneath +me in order to raise my body. + +I open my eyes and perceive myself to be lying in dark grass. Through +the bent limbs of trees the grave stars look down upon me. The black +crosses stand in the evening glow, and past the railings of +grave-plots my eyes blink out into the blossoming world. + +The crickets chirp about me in the grass, and the nightingale begins +to sing anew. + +Half dazed I pull myself together. + +Waves of fragrance and melting shadows extend into the distance. + +Suddenly I see next to me on the grave mound a crouching gray figure. +Between a veil tossed back I see a countenance, pallid and lovely, +with smooth dark hair and a madonna-like face. About the softly +smiling mouth is an expression of gentle loftiness such as is seen in +those martyrs who joyfully bleed to death from the mightiness of +their love. + +Her eyes look down upon me in smiling peace, clear and soulful, the +measure of all goodness, the mirror of all beauty. + +I know the dark gleam of those eyes, I know that gray, soft veil, I +know that poor sick hand, white as a blossom, that leans upon +a crutch. + +It is she, my faery, whose tears have awakened me from the dead. + +All my defiance vanishes. + +I lie upon the earth before her and kiss the hem of her garment. + +And she inclines her head and stretches her hand out to me. + +With the help of that hand I arise. + +Holding this poor, sick hand, I stride joyfully back into life. + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +I sought my faery and I found her not. + +I sought her upon the flowery fields of the South and on the ragged +moors of the Northland; in the eternal snow of Alpine ridges and in +the black folds of the nether earth; in the iridescent glitter of the +boulevard and in the sounding desolation of the sea.... And I +found her not. + +I sought her amid the tobacco smoke and the cheap applause of popular +assemblies and on the vanity fair of the professional social patron; +in the brilliance of glittering feasts I sought her and in the twilit +silence of domestic comfort.... And I found her not. + +My eye thirsted for the sight of her but in my memory there was no +mark by which I could have recognised her. Each image of her was +confused and obliterated by the screaming colours of a new epoch. + +Good and evil in a thousand shapes had come between me and my faery. +And the evil had grown into good for me, the good into evil. + +But the sum of evil was greater than the sum of good. I bent low +under the burden, and for a long space my eyes saw nothing but the +ground to which I clung. + +And therefore did I need my faery. + +I needed her as a slave needs liberation, as the master needs a higher +master, as the man of faith needs heaven. + +In her I sought my resurrection, my strength to live, my defiant +illusion. + +And therefore was I famished for her. + +My ear listened to all the confusing noises that were about me, but +the voice of my faery was not among them. My hand groped after alien +hands, but the faery hand was not among them. Nor would I have +recognised it. + +And then I went in quest of her to all the ends of the earth. + +First I went to a philosopher. + +"You know everything, wise man," I said, "can you tell me how I may +find my faery again?" + +The philosopher put the tips of his five outstretched fingers against +his vaulted forehead and, having meditated a while, said: "You must +seek, through pure intuition, to grasp all the conceptual essence of +the being of the object sought for. Therefore withdraw into yourself +and listen to the voice of your mind." I did as I was told. But the +rushing of the blood in the shells of my ears affrighted me. It +drowned every other voice. + +Next I went to a very clever physician and asked him the same +question. + +The physician who was about to invent an artificially digested porridge +in order to save the modern stomach any exertion, let his spoon fall +for a moment and said: "You must take only such foods as will tend to +add phosphorous matter to the brain. The answer to your question will +then come of itself." + +I followed his directions but instead of my faery a number of +confusing images presented themselves. I saw in the hearts of those +who were about me faery gardens and infernos, deserts and turnip +fields; I saw a comically hopping rainworm who was nibbling at a +graceful centipede; I saw a world in which darkness was lord. I saw +much else and was frightened at the images. + +Then I went to a clergyman and put my question to him. + +The pious man comfortably lit his pipe and said: "You will find no +faeries mentioned in the catechism, my friend. Hence there are none, +and it is sin to seek them. But perhaps you can help me bring back the +devil into the world, the old, authentic devil with tail and horns and +sulphurous stench. He really exists and we need him." + +After I had made inquiry of a learned jurist who advised me to have my +faery located by the police, I went to one of my colleagues, a poet of +the classic school. + +I found him clad in a red silk dressing gown, a wet handkerchief tied +around his forehead. Its purpose was to keep his all too stormy wealth +of inspiration in check. Before him on the table stood a glassful of +Malaga wine and a silver salver full of pomegranates and grapes. The +grapes were made of glass and the pomegranates of soap. But the +contemplation of them was meant to heighten his mood. Near him, nailed +to the floor, stood a golden harp on which was hung a laurel wreath +and a nightcap. + +Timidly I put my question and the honoured master spoke: "The muse, my +worthy friend--ask the muse. Ask the muse who leads us poor children +of the dust into the divine sanctuary; carried aloft by whose wings +into the heights of ether we feel truly human--ask her!" + +As it would have been necessary for me, first of all, to look up this +unknown lady, I went to another colleague--one of the modern +seekers of truth. + +I found him at his desk peering through a microscope at a dying flee +which he was studying carefully. He noted each of its movements upon +the slips of paper from which he later constructed his works. Next to +him stood some bread and cheese, a little bottle full of ether and a +box of powders. + +When I had explained my business he grew very angry. + +"Man, don't bother me with such rot!" he cried. "Faeries and elves and +ideas and the devil knows what--that's all played out. That's worse +than iambics. Go hang, you idiot, and don't disturb me." + +Sad at seeing myself and my faery so contemned, I crept away and went +to one of those modern artists in life, who had tasted with epicurean +fineness all the esctasies and sorrows of earthly life in order to +broaden his personality.... I hoped that he would understand me, too. + +I found him lying on a _chaise longue_, smoking a cigarette, and +turning the leaves of a French novel. It was _Là-bas_ by Huysmans, and +he didn't even cut the leaves, being too lazy. + +He heard my question with an obliging smile. "Dear friend, let's be +honest. The thing is simple. A faery is a woman. That is certain. +Well, take up with every woman that runs into your arms. Love them +all--one after another. You'll be sure then to hit upon your faery +some day." + +As I feared that to follow this advice I would have to waste the +better part of my life and all my conscience, I chose a last and +desperate method and went to a magician. + +If Manfred had forced Astarte back into being, though only for a +fleeting moment, why could I not do the same with the dear ruler of my +higher will? + +I found a dignified man with the eyes of an enthusiast and filthy +locks. He was badly in need of a change of linen. And so I had every +reason to consider him an idealist. + +He talked a good real of "Karma," of "materialisations" and of the +"plurality of spheres." He used many other strange words by means of +which he made it clear to me that my faery would reveal herself to me +only by his help. + +With beating heart I entered a dark room at the appointed hour. The +magician led me in. + +A soft, mysterious music floated toward me. I was left alone, pressed +to the door, awaiting the things that were to come in breathless fear. + +Suddenly, as I was waiting in the darkness, a gleaming, bluish needle +protruded from the floor. It grew to rings and became a snake which +breathed forth flames and dissolved into flame ... And the tongues of +these flames played on all sides and finally parted in curves like the +leaves of an opening lotus flower, out of whose calix white veils +arose slowly, very slowly, and became as they glided upward the +garments of a woman who looked at me, who was lashed by fear, with +sightless eyes. + +"Are you Thea?" I asked trembling. + +The veils inclined in affirmation. + +"Where do you dwell?" + +The veils waved, shaken by the trembling limbs. + +"Ask me after other things," a muffled voice said. + +"Why do you no longer appear to me?" + +"I may not." + +"Who hinders you?" + +"You." ... + +"By what? Am I unworthy of you?" + +"Yes." + +In deep contrition I was about to fall at her feet. But, coming +nearer, I perceived that my faery's breath smelled of onions. + +This circumstance sobered me a bit, for I don't like onions. + +I knocked at the locked door, paid my magician what I owed him and +went my way. + +From now on all hope of ever seeing her again vanished. But my soul +cried out after her. And the world receded from me. Its figures +dislimned into things that have been, its noise did not thunder at my +threshold. A solitariness half voluntary and half enforced dragged its +steps through my house. Only a few, the intimates of my heart and +brothers of my blood, surrounded my life with peace and kept watch +without my doors. + + * * * * * + +It was a late afternoon near Advent Sunday. + +But no message of Christmas came to my yearning soul. + +Somewhere, like a discarded toy, lay amid rubbish the motive power of +my passions. My heart was dumb, my hand nerveless, and even need--that +last incentive--had slackened to a wild memory. + +The world was white with frost.... The dust of ice and the rain of +star-light filled the world... cloths of glittering white covered the +plains.... The bare twigs of the trees stretched upwards like staves +of coral.... The fir trees trembled like spun glass. + +A red sunset spread its reflection over all. But the sunset itself was +poverty stricken. No purple lights, no gleam of seven colours warmed +the whiteness of the world. Not like the gentle farewell of the sun +but cruel as the threat of paralysing night did the bloody stripe +stare through my window. + +It is the hour of afternoon tea. The regulations of the house demand +that. + +Grayish blue steam whirls up to the shadowed ceiling and moistens with +falling drops the rounded silver of the tea urn. + +The bell rings. + +From the housekeeper's rooms floats an odour of fresh baked breads. +They are having a feast there. Perhaps they mean to prepare one for +the master, too. + +A new book that has come a great distance to-day is in my hand. + +I read. Another one has made the great discovery that the world begins +with him. + +Ah, did it not once begin with me, too? + +To be young, to be young! Ah, even if one suffers need--only to be +young! + +But who, after all, would care to retrace the difficult road? + +Perhaps you, O woman at my side? + +I would wager that even you would not. + +And I raise a questioning glance though I know her to be far ... and +who stands behind the kettle, framed by the rising of the +bluish steam? + +Ah child, have I not seen you often--you with the brownish locks and +the dark lashes over blue eyes ... you with the bird-like twitter in +the throbbing whiteness of your throat, and the light-hearted step? + +And yet, did I ever see you? Did I ever see that look which surrounds +me with its ripe wisdom and guesses the secrets of my heart? Did I +ever see that mouth so rich and firm at once which smiles upon me full +of reticent consolation and alluring comprehension? + +Who are you, child, that you dare to look me through and through, as +though I had laid my confidence at your feet? Who are you that you +dare to descend wingless into the abysms of my soul, that you can +smile away my torture and my suffocation? + +Why did you not come earlier in your authentic form? Why did you not +come as all that which you are to me and will be from this hour on? + +Why do you hide yourself in the mist which renders my recognition +turbid and shadows your outlines? + +Come to me, for you are she whom I seek, for whom my heart's blood +yearns in order to flow as sacrifice and triumph! + +You are the faery who clarifies my eye and steels my will, who brings +to me upon her young hands my own youth! Come to me and do not leave +me again as you have so often left me! + +I start up to stretch out my arms to her and see how her glance +becomes estranged and her smile as of stone. As one who is asleep with +open eyes, thus she stands there and stares past me. + +I try to find her, to clasp her, to force her spirit to see me. +Without repulsing me she glides softly from me.... The walls open. ... +The stones of the stairs break.... We flee out into the wintry +silence.... + +She glides before me over the pallid velvet of the road ... over the +tinkling glass of the frozen heath ... through the glittering boughs. +She smiles--for whom? + +The hilly fields, hardened by the frost, the bushes scattering +ice--everything obstructs my way. I break through and follow her. + +But she glides on before me, scarcely a foot above the ground, but +farther, farther ... over the broken earth, down the precipice ... to +the lake whose bluish surface of new ice melts in the distance into +the afterglow. + +Now she hangs over the bank like a cloud of smoke, and the wind that +blows upon my back, raises the edges of her dress like triangular +pennants. "Stay, Thea.... I cannot follow you across the lake! ... +The water will not upbear a mortal."... + +But the rising wind pushes her irresistibly on. + +Now I stand as the edge of the lake. The thin ice forces upward great +hollow bubbles.... + +Will it suffer my groping feet? Will it break and whelm me in brackish +water and morass? + +There is no room for hesitation. For already the wind is sweeping her +afar. + +And I venture out upon the glassy floor which is no floor at all, but +which a brief frost threw as a deceptive mirror across the deep. + +It bears me up for five paces, for six, for ten. Then suddenly the cry +of harps is in my ear and something like an earthquake quivers through +my limbs. And this sound grows into a mighty crunching and waxes into +thunder which sounds afar and returns from the distance in echoing +detonation. + +But at my left hand glitters a cleft which furrows the ice with +manicoloured splinters and runs from me into the invisible. + +What is to be done? On... on...! + +And again the harps cry out and a great rattling flies forth and +returns as thunder. And again a great cleft opens its brilliant hues +at my side. On, on ... to seek her smiling, even though the smile is +not for me. It will be for me if only I can grasp the hem of +her garment. + +A third cleft opens; a fourth crosses it, uniting it to the first. + +I must cross. But I dare not jump, for the ice must not crumble lest +an abysm open at my feet. + +It is no longer a sheet of ice upon which I travel--it is a net-work +of clefts. Between them lies something blue and all but invisible that +bears me by the merest chance. I can see the tangled water grasses +wind about and the polished fishes dart whom my body will feed unless +a miracle happens. + +Lit by the gathering afterglow a plain of fire stretches out before +me, and far on the horizon the saving shore looms dark. + +Farther ... farther! + +Sinister and deceptive springs arise to my right and left and hurl +their waters across my path.... A soft gurgling is heard and at last +drowns the resonant sound of thunder. + +Farther, farther.... Mere life is at stake. + +There in the distance a cloud dislimns which but now lured me to death +with its girlish smile. What do I care now? + +The struggle endures for eternities. The wind drives me on. I avoid +the clefts, wade through the springs; I measure the distances, for now +I have to jump.... The depths are yawning about me. + +The ice under my feet begins to rock. It rocks like a cradle, heaving +and falling at every step ... It would be a charming game were it not +a game with death. + +My breath comes flying ... my heart-beats throttle me ... sparks +quiver before my eyes. + +Let me rock ... rock ... rock back to the dark sources of being. + +A springing fountain, higher than all the others, hisses up before +me.... Edges and clods rise into points. + +One spring ... the last of all ... hopeless ... inspired by the +desperate will to live. + +Ah, what is that? + +Is that not the goodly earth beneath my feet--the black, hard, stable +earth? + +It is but a tiny islet formed of frozen mud and roots; it is scarcely +two paces across, but large enough to give security to my +sinking body. + +I am ashore, saved, for only a few arm lengths from me arises the +reedy line of the shore. + +A drove of wild ducks rises in diagonal flight. ... Purple radiance +pours through the twigs of trees.... From nocturnal heavens the first +stars shine upon me. + +The ghostly game is over! The faery hunt is as an end. + +One truth I realise: He who has firm ground under his feet needs no +faeries. + +And serenely I stride into the sunset world. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Lily and Other Stories, by +Hermann Sudermann + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 9994-8.txt or 9994-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/9/9/9994/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +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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Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/9994-8.zip b/9994-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..01b3975 --- /dev/null +++ b/9994-8.zip diff --git a/9994.txt b/9994.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7c6a84 --- /dev/null +++ b/9994.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8578 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Indian Lily and Other Stories, by Hermann Sudermann + +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 Indian Lily and Other Stories + +Author: Hermann Sudermann + +Translator: Ludwig Lewisohn + +Posting Date: November 26, 2011 [EBook #9994] +Release Date: February, 2006 +First Posted: November 6, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +AND OTHER STORIES + + + + +BY + +HERMANN SUDERMANN + + + + +TRANSLATED BY + +LUDWIG LEWISOHN, M.A. + + + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +THE PURPOSE + +THE SONG OF DEATH + +THE VICTIM + +AUTUMN + +MERRY FOLK + +THEA + + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was seven o'clock in the morning when Herr von Niebeldingk opened +the iron gate and stepped into the front garden whose wall of +blossoming bushes separated the house from the street. + +The sun of a May morning tinted the greyish walls with gold, and +caused the open window-panes to flash with flame. + +The master directed a brief glance at the second story whence floated +the dull sound of the carpet-beater. He thrust the key rapidly into +the keyhole for a desire stirred in him to slip past the porter's +lodge unobserved. + +"I seem almost to be--ashamed!" he murmured with a smile of +self-derision as a similar impulse overcame him in front of the +house door. + +But John, his man--a dignified person of fifty--had observed his +approach and stood in the opening door. The servant's mutton-chop +whiskers and admirably silvered front-lock contrasted with a repressed +reproach that hovered between his brows. He bowed deeply. + +"I was delayed," said Herr von Niebeldingk, in order to say something +and was vexed because this sentence sounded almost like an excuse. + +"Do you desire to go to bed, captain, or would you prefer a bath?" + +"A bath," the master responded. "I have slept elsewhere." + +That sounded almost like another excuse. + +"I'm obviously out of practice," he reflected as he entered the +breakfast-room where the silver samovar steamed among the dishes of +old Sevres. + +He stepped in front of the mirror and regarded himself--not with the +forbearance of a friend but the keen scrutiny of a critic. + +"Yellow, yellow...." He shook his head. "I must apply a curb to my +feelings." + +Upon the whole, however, he had reason to be fairly satisfied with +himself. His figure, despite the approach of his fortieth year, had +remained slender and elastic. The sternly chiselled face, surrounded +by a short, half-pointed beard, showed neither flabbiness nor bloat. +It was only around the dark, weary eyes that the experiences of the +past night had laid a net-work of wrinkles and shadows. Ten years +ago pleasure had driven the hair from his temples, but it grew +energetically upon his crown and rose, above his forehead, in a +Mephistophelian curve. + +The civilian's costume which often lends retired officers a guise of +excessive spick-and-spanness had gradually combined with an easier +bearing to give his figure a natural elegance. To be sure, six years +had passed since, displeased by a nagging major, he had definitely +hung up the dragoon's coat of blue. + +He was wealthy enough to have been able to indulge in the luxury of +that displeasure. In addition his estates demanded more rigorous +management.... From Christmas to late spring he lived in Berlin, where +his older brother occupied one of those positions at court that mean +little enough either to superior or inferior ranks, but which, in a +certain social set dependent upon the court, have an influence of +inestimable value. Without assuming the part of either a social lion +or a patron, he used this influence with sufficient thoroughness to be +popular, even, in certain cases, to be feared, and belonged to that +class of men to whom one always confides one's difficulties, never +one's wife. + +John came to announce to his master that the bath was ready. And while +Niebeldingk stretched himself lazily in the tepid water he let his +reflections glide serenely about the delightful occurrence of the +past night. + +That occurrence had been due for six months, but opportunity had been +lacking. "I am closely watched and well-known," she had told him, "and +dare not go on secret errands." ... Now at last their chance had come +and had been used with clever circumspectness.... Somewhere on the +Polish boundary lived one of her cousins to whose wedding she was +permitted to travel alone.... She had planned to arrive in Berlin +unannounced and, instead of taking the morning train from Eydtkuhnen, +to take the train of the previous evening. Thus a night was gained +whose history had no necessary place in any family chronicle and the +memories of which could, if need were, be obliterated from one's own +consciousness.... Her arrival and departure had caused a few moments +of really needless anxiety. That was all. No acquaintance had run into +them, no waiter had intimated any suspicion, the very cabby who drove +them through the dawn had preserved his stupid lack of expression when +Niebeldingk suddenly sprang from the vehicle and permitted the lady to +be driven on alone.... + +Before his eyes stood her picture--as he had seen her lying during the +night in his arms, fevered with anxiety and rapture ... Ordinarily +her eyes were large and serene, almost drowsy.... The night had proven +to him what a glow could be kindled in them. Whether her broad brows, +growing together over the nose, could be regarded as a beautiful +feature--that was an open question. He liked them--so much +was certain. + +"Thank heaven," he thought. "At last, once more--a _woman_." + +And he thought of another who for three years had been allied to him +by bonds of the tenderest intimacy and whom he had this +night betrayed. + +"Between us," he consoled himself, "things will remain as they have +been, and I can enjoy my liberty." + +He sprayed his body with the icy water of the douche and rang for John +who stood outside of the door with a bath-robe. + +When, ten minutes later, shivering comfortably, he entered the +breakfast-room, he found beside his cup a little heap of letters which +the morning post had brought. There were two letters that gripped his +attention. + +One read: + +"Berlin N., Philippstrasse 10 a. + +DEAR HERR VON NIEBELDINGK:-- + +For the past week I have been in Berlin studying agriculture, since, +as you know, I am to take charge of the estate. Papa made me promise +faithfully to look you up immediately after my arrival. It is merely +due to the respect I owe you that I haven't kept my promise. As I know +that you won't tell Papa I might as well confess to you that I've +scarcely been sober the whole week.--Oh, Berlin is a deuce of a place! + +If you don't object I will drop in at noon to-morrow and convey Papa's +greetings to you. Papa is again afflicted with the gout. + +With warm regards, + +Your very faithful + +FRITZ VON EHRENBERG." + +The other letter was from ... her--clear, serene, full of such +literary reminiscences as always dwelt in her busy little head. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +I wouldn't ask you: Why do I not see you?--you have not called for +five days--I would wait quietly till your steps led you hither without +persuasion or compulsion; but 'every animal loves itself' as the old +gossip Cicero says, and I feel a desire to chat with you. + +I have never believed, to be sure, that we would remain indispensable +to each other. '_Racine passera comme le cafe_,' Mme. de Sevigne says +somewhere, but I would never have dreamed that we would see so little +of each other before the inevitable end of all things. + +You know the proverb: even old iron hates to rust, and I'm only +twenty-five. + +Come once again, dear Master, if you care to. I have an excellent +cigarette for you--Blum Pasha. I smoke a little myself now and then, +but _c'est plus fort que moi_ and ends in head-ache. + +Joko has at last learned to say 'Richard.' He trills the _r_ +cunningly. He knows that he has little need to be jealous. + +Good-bye! + +ALICE." + +He laughed and brought forth her picture which stood, framed and +glazed, upon his desk. A delicate, slender figure--"_blonde comme les +bles_"--with bluish grey, eager eyes and a mocking expression of the +lips--it was she herself, she who had made the last years of his life +truly livable and whose fate he administered rather than ruled. + +She was the wife of a wealthy mine-owner whose estates abutted on his +and with whom an old friendship, founded on common sports, +connected him. + +One day, suspecting nothing, Niebeldingk entered the man's house and +found him dragging his young wife from room to room by the hair.... +Niebeldingk interfered and felt, in return, the lash of a whip.... +Time and place had been decided upon when the man's physician forbade +the duel.... He had been long suspected, but no certain symptoms had +been alleged, since the brave little woman revealed nothing of the +frightful inwardness of her married life.... Three days later he was +definitely sent to a sanitarium. But between Niebeldingk and Alice the +memory of that last hour of suffering soon wove a thousand threads of +helplessness and pity into the web of love. + +As she had long lost her parents and as she was quite defenceless +against her husband's hostile guardians, the care of her interests +devolved naturally upon him.... He released her from troublesome +obligations and directed her demands toward a safe goal.... Then, very +tenderly, he lifted her with all the roots of her being from the old, +poverty-stricken soil of her earlier years and transplanted her to +Berlin where, by the help of his brother's wife--still gently pressing +on and smoothing the way himself--he created a new way of life +for her. + +In a villa, hidden by foliage from Lake Constance, her husband slowly +drowsed toward dissolution. She herself ripened in the sharp air of +the capital and grew almost into another woman in this banal, +disillusioned world, sober even in its intoxication. + +Of society, from whose official section her fate as well as her +commoner's name separated her, she saw just enough to feel the +influence of the essential conceptions that governed it. + +She lost diffidence and awkwardness, she became a woman of the world +and a connoisseur of life. She learned to condemn one day what she +forgave the next, she learned to laugh over nothing and to grieve over +nothing and to be indignant over nothing. + +But what surprised Niebeldingk more than these small adaptations to +the omnipotent spirit of her new environment, was the deep revolution +experienced by her innermost being. + +She had been a clinging, self-effacing, timid soul. Within three years +she became a determined and calculating little person who lacked +nothing but a certain fixedness to be a complete character. + +A strange coldness of the heart now emanated from her and this was +strengthened by precipitate and often unkindly judgment, supported in +its turn by a desire to catch her own reflection in all things and to +adopt witty points of view. + +Nor was this all. She acquired a desire to learn, which at first +stimulated and amused Niebeldingk, but which had long grown to be +something of a nuisance. + +He himself was held, and rightly held, to be a man of intellect, less +by virtue of rapid perception and flexible thought, than by virtue of +a coolly observant vision of the world, incapable of being confused--a +certain healthy cynicism which, though it never lost an element of +good nature, might yet abash and even chill the souls of men. + +His actual knowledge, however, had remained mere wretched patchwork, +his logic came to an end wherever bold reliance upon the intuitive +process was needed to supply missing links in the ratiocinative chain. + +And so it came to pass that Alice, whom at first he had regarded as +his scholar, his handiwork, his creature, had developed annoyingly +beyond him.... Involuntarily and innocently she delivered the keenest +thrusts. He had, actually, to be on guard.... In the irresponsible +delight of intellectual crudity she solved the deepest problems of +humanity; she repeated, full of faith, the judgments of the ephemeral +rapid writer, instead of venturing upon the sources of knowledge. Yet +even so she impressed him by her faculty of adaptation and her shining +zeal. He was often silenced, for his slow moving mind could not follow +the vagaries of that rapid little brain. + +What would she be at again to-day? "The old gossip Cicero...." And, +"Mme. de Sevigne remarks...." What a rattling and tinkling. It +provoked him. + +And her love! ... That was a bad business. What is one to do with a +mistress who, before falling asleep, is capable of lecturing on +Schopenhauer's metaphysics of sex, and will prove to you up to the +hilt how unworthy it really is to permit oneself to be duped by nature +if one does not share her aim for the generations to come? + +The man is still to be born upon whom such wisdom, uttered at such an +hour--by lips however sweet--does not cast a chill. + +Since that philosophical night he had left untouched the little key +that hung yonder over his desk and that give him, in her house, the +sacred privileges of a husband. And so his life became once more a +hunt after new women who filled his heart with unrest and with the +foolish fires of youth. + +But Alice had never been angry at him. Apparently she lacked +nothing.... + +And his thoughts wandered from her to the woman who had lain against +his breast to-night, shuddering in her stolen joy. + +Heavens! He had almost forgotten one thing! + +He summoned John and said: + +"Go to the florist and order a bunch of Indian lilies. The man knows +what I mean. If he hasn't any, let him procure some by noon." + +John did not move a muscle, but heaven only knew whether he did not +suspect the connection between the Indian lilies and the romance of +the past night. It was in his power to adduce precedents. + +It was an old custom of Niebeldingk's--a remnant of his half out-lived +Don Juan years--to send a bunch of Indian lilies to those women who +had granted him their supreme favours. He always sent the flowers next +morning. Their symbolism was plain and delicate: In spite of what has +taken place you are as lofty and as sacred in my eyes as these pallid, +alien flowers whose home is beside the Ganges. Therefore have the +kindness--not to annoy me with remorse. + +It was a delicate action and--a cynical one. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +At noon--Niebeldingk had just returned from his morning canter--the +visitor, previously announced, was ushered in. + +He was a robust young fellow, long of limb and broad of shoulder. His +face was round and tanned, with hot, dark eyes. With merry boldness, +yet not without diffidence, he sidled, in his blue cheviot suit, +into the room. + +"Morning, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +Enviously and admiringly Niebeldingk surveyed the athletic figure +which moved with springy grace. + +"Morning, my boy ... sober?" + +"In honour of the day, yes." + +"Shall we breakfast?" + +"Oh, with delight, Herr von Niebeldingk!" + +They passed into the breakfast-room where two covers had already been +laid, and while John served the caviare the flood of news burst which +had mounted in their Franconian home during the past months. + +Three betrothals, two important transfers of land, a wedding, Papa's +gout, Mama's charities, Jenny's new target, Grete's flirtation with +the American engineer. And, above all things, the examination! + +"Dear Herr von Niebeldingk, it's a rotten farce. For nine years the +gymnasium trains you and drills you, and in the end you don't get your +trouble's worth! I'm sorry for every hour of cramming I did. They +released me from the oral exam., simply sent me out like a monkey when +I was just beginning to let my light shine! Did you ever hear of such +a thing? _Did_ you ever?" + +"Well, and how about your university work, Fritz?" + +That was a ticklish business, the youth averred. Law and political +science was no use. Every ass took that up. And since it was after all +only his purpose to pass a few years of his green youth profitably, +why he thought he'd stick to his trade and find out how to plant +cabbages properly. + +"Have you started in anywhere yet?" + +Oh, there was time enough. But he had been to some lectures--agronomy +and inorganic chemistry.... You have to begin with inorganic chemistry +if you want to go in for organic. And the latter was agricultural +chemistry which was what concerned him. + +He made these instructive remarks with a serious air and poured down +glass after glass of Madeira. His cheeks began to glow, his heart +expanded. "But that's all piffle, Herr von Niebeldingk, ... all this +book-worm business can go to the devil.... Life--life--life--that's +the main thing!" + +"What do you call life, Fritz?" + +With both hands he stroked the velvety surface of his close-cropped +skull. + +"Well, how am I to tell you? D'you know how I feel? As if I were +standing in front of a great, closed garden ... and I know that all +Paradise is inside ... and occasionally a strain of music floats out +... and occasionally a white garment glitters ... and I'd like to get +in and I can't. That's life, you see. And I've got to stand +miserably outside?" + +"Well, you don't impress me as such a miserable creature?" + +"No, no, in a way, not. On the coarser side, so to speak, I have a +good deal of fun. Out there around _Philippstrasse_ and +_Marienstrasse_ there are women enough--stylish and fine-looking and +everything you want. And my friends are great fellows, too. Every one +can stand his fifteen glasses ... I suppose I am an ass, and perhaps +it's only moral _katzenjammer_ on account of this past week. But when +I walk the streets and see the tall, distinguished houses and think of +all those people and their lives, yonder a millionaire, here a +minister of state, and think that, once upon a time, they were all +crude boys like myself--well, then I have the feeling as if I'd never +attain anything, but always remain what I am." + +"Well, my dear Fritz, the only remedy for that lies in that 'book-worm +business' as you call it. Sit down on your breeches and work!" + +"No, Herr von Niebeldingk, it isn't that either ... let me tell you. +Day before yesterday I was at the opera.... They sang the +_Goetterddmmerung_.... You know, of course. There is _Siegfried_, a +fellow like myself, ... not more than twenty ... I sat upstairs in the +third row with two seamstresses. I'd picked them up in the +_Chausseestrasse_--cute little beasts, too.... But when _Brunhilde_ +stretched out her wonderful, white arms to him and sang: 'On to new +deeds, O hero!' why I felt like taking the two girls by the scruff of +the neck and pitching them down into the pit, I was so ashamed. +Because, you see, _Siegfried_ had his _Brunhilde_ who inspired him to +do great deeds. And what have I? ... A couple of hard cases picked up +in the street." + +"Afterwards, I suppose, you felt more reconciled?" + +"That shows how little you know me. I'd promised the girls supper. So +I had to eat with them. But when that was over I let 'em slide. I +ran about in the streets and just--howled!" + +"Very well, but what exactly are you after?" + +"That's what I don't know, Herr von Niebeldingk. Oh, if I knew! But +it's something quite indefinite--hard to think, hard to comprehend. +I'd like to howl with laughter and I don't know why ... to shriek, and +I don't know what about." + +"Blessed youth!" Niebeldingk thought, and looked at the enthusiastic +boy full of emotion. ... + +John, who was serving, announced that the florist's girl had come with +the Indian lilies. + +"Indian lilies, what sort of lilies are they?" asked Fritz overcome by +a hesitant admiration. + +"You'll see," Niebeldingk answered and ordered the girl to be +admitted. + +She struggled through the door, a half-grown thing with plump red +cheeks and smooth yellow hair. Diffident and frightened, she +nevertheless began to flirt with Fritz. In front of her she held the +long stems of the exotic lilies whose blossoms, like gigantic +narcissi, brooded in star-like rest over chaste and alien dreams. From +the middle of each chalice came a sharp, green shimmer which faded +gently along the petals of the flowers. + +"Confound it, but they're beautiful!" cried Fritz. "Surely they have +quite a peculiar significance." + +Niebeldingk arose, wrote the address without permitting John, who +stood in suspicious proximity, to throw a glance at it, handed cards +and flowers to the girl, gave her a tip, and escorted her to the +door himself. + +"So they do mean something special?" Fritz asked eagerly. He couldn't +get over his enthusiasm. + +"Yes, my boy." + +"And may one know...." + +"Surely, one may know. I give these lilies to that lady whose lofty +purity transcends all doubt--I give them as a symbol of my chaste and +desireless admiration." + +Fritz's eyes shone. + +"Ah, but I'd like to know a lady like that--some day!" he cried and +pressed his hands to his forehead. + +"That will come! That will come!" Niebeldingk tapped the youth's +shoulder calmingly. + +"Will you have some salad?" + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Around the hour of afternoon tea Niebeldingk, true to a dear, old +habit, went to see his friend. + +She inhabited a small second-floor apartment in the _Regentenstrasse_ +which he had himself selected for her when she came as a stranger to +Berlin. With flowers and palms and oriental rugs she had moulded a +delicious retreat, and before her bed-room windows the nightingales +sang in the springtime. + +She seemed to be expecting him. In the great, raised bay, separated +from the rest of the drawing-room by a thicket of dark leaves, the +stout tea-urn was already expectantly humming. + +In a bright, girlish dress, devoid of coquetry or pouting, Alice came +to meet him. + +"I'm glad you're here again, Richard." + +That was all. + +He wanted to launch out into the tale which he had meant to tell her, +but she cut him short. + +"Since when do I demand excuses, Richard? You come and there you are. +And if you don't come, I have to be content too." "You should really +be a little less tolerant," he warned her. + +"A blessed lot it would help me," she answered merrily. + +Gently she took his arm and led him to his old place. Then silently, +and with that restrained eagerness that characterised all her actions +she busied herself with the tea-urn. + +His critical and discriminating gaze followed her movements. With +swift, delicate gestures she pushed forward the Chinese dish, shook +the tea from the canister and poured the first drops of boiling water +through a sieve.... Her quick, bird-like head moved hither and +thither, and the bow of the orange-coloured ribbon which surrounded +her over-delicate neck trembled a little with every motion. + +"She really is the most charming of all," such was the end of his +reflections, "if only she weren't so damnably sensible." + +Silently she took her seat opposite him, folded her white hands in her +lap, and looked into his eyes with such significant archness that he +began to feel embarrassed. + +Had she any suspicion of his infidelities? + +Surely not. No jealous woman can look about her so calmly and +serenely. + +"What have you been doing all this time?" he asked. + +"I? Good heavens! Look about you and you'll see." + +She pointed to a heap of books which lay scattered over the window +seat and sewing table. + +There were Moltke's letters and the memoirs of von Schoen, and Max +Mueller's Aryan studies. Nor was the inevitable Schopenhauer lacking. + +"What are you after with all that learning?" he asked. + +"Ah, dear friend, what is one to do? One can't always be going about +in strange houses. Do you expect me to stand at the window and watch +the clouds float over the old city-wall?" + +He had the uncomfortable impression that she was quoting something +again. + +"My mood," she went on, "is in what Goethe calls the minor of the +soul. It is the yearning that reaches out afar and yet restrains +itself harmoniously within itself. Isn't that beautifully put?" + +"It may be, but it's too high for me!" In laughing self-protection, he +stretched out his arms toward her. + +"Don't make fun of me," she said, slightly shamed, and arose. + +"And what is the object of your yearning?" he asked in order to leave +the realm of Goethe as swiftly as possible. "Not you, you horrible +person," she answered and, for a moment, touched his hair with +her lips. + +"I know that, dearest," he said, "it's a long time since you've sent +me two notes a day." + +"And since you came to see me twice daily," she returned and gazed at +the floor with a sad irony. + +"We have both changed greatly, Alice." + +"We have indeed, Richard." + +A silence ensued. + +His eyes wandered to the opposite wall.... His own picture, framed in +silvery maple-wood, hung there.... Behind the frame appeared a bunch +of blossoms, long faded and shrivelled to a brownish, indistinguishable +heap. + +These two alone knew the significance of the flowers.... + +"Were you at least happy in those days, Alice?" + +"You know I am always happy, Richard." + +"Oh yes, yes; I know your philosophy. But I meant happy with me, +through me?" + +She stroked her delicate nose thoughtfully. The mocking expression +about the corners of her mouth became accentuated. + +"I hardly think so, Richard," she said after an interval. "I was too +much afraid of you ... I seemed so stupid in comparison to you and I +feared that you would despise me." "That fear, at least, you have +overcome very thoroughly?" he asked. + +"Not wholly, Richard. Things have only shifted their basis. Just as, +in those days, I felt ashamed of my ignorance, so now I feel +ashamed--no, that isn't the right word.... But all this stuff that I +store up in my head seems to weigh upon me in my relations with you. I +seem to be a nuisance with it.... You men, especially mature men like +yourself, seem to know all these things better, even when you don't +know them.... The precise form in which a given thought is presented +to us may be new to you, but the thought itself you have long +digested. It's for this reason that I feel intimidated whenever I +approach you with my pursuits. 'You might better have held your +peace,' I say to myself. But what am I to do? I'm so profoundly +interested!" + +"So you really need the society of a rather stupid fellow, one to whom +all this is new and who will furnish a grateful audience?" + +"Stupid? No," she answered, "but he ought to be inexperienced. He +ought himself to want to learn things.... He ought not to assume a +compassionate expression as who should say: 'Ah, my dear child, if you +knew what I know, and how indifferent all those things are to me!' ... +For these things are not indifferent, Richard, not to me, at +least.... And for the sake of the joy I take in them, you ..." + +"Strange how she sees through me," he reflected, "I wonder she clings +to me as she does." + +And while he was trying to think of something that might help her, the +dear boy came into his mind who had to-day divulged to him the sorrows +of youth and whom the unconscious desire for a higher plane of life +had driven weeping through the streets. + +"I know of some one for you." + +Her expression was serious. + +"You know of some one for me," she repeated with painful +deliberateness. + +"Don't misunderstand me. It's a playfellow, a pupil--something in the +nature of a pastime, anything you will." + +He told her the story of _Siegfried_ and the two seamstresses. + +She laughed heartily. + +"I was afraid you wanted to be rid of me," she said, laying her +forehead for a few moments against his sleeve. + +"Shame on you," he said, carelessly stroking her hair. "But what do +you think? Shall I bring the young fellow?" + +"You may very well bring him," she answered. There was a look of pain +about her mouth. "Doesn't one even train young poodles?" + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Three days later, at the same hour of the afternoon, the student, +Fritz von Ehrenberg entered Niebeldingk's study. + +"I have summoned you, dear friend, because I want to introduce you to +a charming young woman," Niebeldingk said, arising from his desk. + +"Now?" Fritz asked, sharply taken aback. + +"Why not?" + +"Why, I'd have to get my--my afternoon coat first and fix myself up a +bit. What is the lady to think of me?" + +"I'll take care of that. Furthermore, you probably know her, at least +by reputation." + +He mentioned the name of her husband which was known far and wide in +their native province. + +Fritz knew the whole story. + +"Poor lady!" he said. "Papa and Mama have often felt sorry for her. I +suppose her husband is still living." + +Niebeldingk nodded. + +"People all said that you were going to marry her." + +"Is _that_ what people said?" "Yes, and Papa thought it would be a +piece of great good fortune." + +"For whom?" + +"I beg your pardon, I suppose that was tactless, Herr von +Niebeldingk." + +"It was, dear Fritz.--But don't worry about it, just come." + +The introduction went smoothly. Fritz behaved as became the son of a +good family, was respectful but not stiff, and answered her friendly +questions briefly and to the point. + +"He's no discredit to me," Niebeldingk thought. + +As for Alice, she treated her young guest with a smiling, motherly +care which was new in her and which filled Niebeldingk with quiet +pleasure.... On other occasions she had assumed toward young men a +tone of wise, faint interest which meant clearly: "I will exhaust your +possibilities and then drop you." To-day she showed a genuine sympathy +which, though its purpose may have been to test him the more sharply, +seemed yet to bear witness to the pure and free humanity of her soul. + +She asked him after his parental home and was charmed with his naive +rapture at escaping the psychical atmosphere of the cradle-songs of +his mother's house. She was also pleased with his attitude toward his +younger brothers and sisters, equally devoid, as it was, of +exaggeration or condescension. Everything about him seemed to her +simple and sane and full of ardour after information and maturity. + +Niebeldingk sat quietly in his corner ready, at need, to smooth over +any outbreak of uncouth youthfulness. But there was no occasion. Fritz +confined himself within the limits of modest liberty and used his mind +vigorously but with devout respect and delighted obedience. Once only, +when the question of the necessity of authority came up, did he +go far. + +"I don't give a hang for any authority," he said. "Even the mild +compulsion of what are called high-bred manners may go to the +deuce for me!" + +Niebeldingk was about to interfere with some reconciling remark when +he observed, to his astonishment, that Alice who, as a rule, was +bitterly hostile to all strident unconventionality, had taken +no offence. + +"Let him be, Niebeldingk," she said. "As far as he is concerned he is, +doubtless, in the right. And nothing would be more shameful than if +society were already to begin to make a featureless model boy of him." + +"That will never be, I swear to you, dear lady," cried Fritz all aglow +and stretching out his hands to ward off imaginary chains. +Niebeldingk smiled and thought: "So much the better for him." Then he +lit a fresh cigarette. + +The conversation turned to learned things. Fritz, paraphrasing +Tacitus, vented his hatred of the Latin civilisations. Alice agreed +with him and quoted Mme. de Stael. Niebeldingk arose, quietly meeting +the reproachful glance of his beloved. + +Fritz jumped up simultaneously, but Niebeldingk laughingly pushed him +back into his seat. + +"You just stay," he said, "our dear friend is only too eager to +slaughter a few more peoples." + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When he dropped in at Alice's a few days later he found her sitting, +hot-cheeked and absorbed, over Strauss's _Life of Jesus_. + +"Just fancy," she said, holding up her forehead for his kiss, "that +young poodle of yours is making me take notice. He gives me +intellectual nuts to crack. It's strange how this young generation--" + +"I beg of you, Alice," he interrupted her, "you are only a very few +years his senior." + +"That may be so," she answered, "but the little education I have +derives from another epoch.... I am, metaphysically, as unexacting as +the people of your generation. A certain fogless freedom of thought +seemed to me until to-day the highest point of human development." + +"And Fritz von Ehrenberg, student of agriculture, has converted you to +a kind of thoughtful religiosity?" he asked, smiling good-naturedly. + +In her zeal she wasn't even aware of his irony. + +"We're not going to give in so easily.... But it is strange what an +impression is made on one by a current of strong and natural +feeling.... This young fellow comes to me and says: 'There is a God, +for I feel Him and I need Him. Prove the contrary if you can.' ... +Well, so I set about proving the contrary to him. But our poor +negations have become so glib that one has forgotten the reasons for +them. Finally he defeated me along the whole line ... so I sat down at +once and began to study up ... just as one would polish rusty weapons +... Bible criticism and DuBois-Reymond and 'Force and Matter' and all +the things that are traditionally irrefutable." + +"And that amuses you?" he asked compassionately. + +A theoretical indignation took hold of her that always amused him +greatly. + +"Does it amuse me? Are such things proper subjects for amusement? +Surely you must use other expressions, Richard, when one is concerned +for the most sacred goods of humanity...." + +"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't mean to touch those things +irreverently." + +She stroked his arm softly, thus dumbly asking forgiveness in her +turn. + +"But now," she continued, "I am equipped once more, and when he comes +to-morrow--" + +"So he's coming to-morrow?" + +"Naturally, ... then you will see how I'll send him home sorely +whipped ... I can defeat him with Kant's antinomies alone.... And +when it comes to what people call 'revelation,' well! ... But I assure +you, my dear one, I'm not very happy defending this icy, nagging +criticism.... To be quite sincere, I would far rather be on his side. +Warmth is there and feeling and something positive to support one. +Would you like some tea?" + +"Thanks, no, but some brandy." + +Rapidly brushing the waves of hair from her drawn forehead she ran +into the next room and returned with the bottle bearing three stars on +its label from which she herself took a tiny drop occasionally--"when +my mind loses tone for study" as she was wont to say in +self-justification. + +A crimson afterglow, reflected from the walls of the houses opposite, +filled the little drawing-room in which the mass of feminine ornaments +glimmered and glittered. + +"I've really become quite a stranger here," he thought, regarding all +these things with the curiosity of one who has come after an absence. +From each object hung, like a dewdrop, the memory of some +exquisite hour. + +"You look about you so," Alice said with an undertone of anxiety in +her voice, "don't you like it here any longer?" + +"What are you thinking of," he exclaimed, "I like it better daily." +She was about to reply but fell silent and looked into space with a +smile of wistful irony. + +"If I except the _Life of Jesus_ and the Kantian--what do you call the +things?" + +"Antinomies." + +"Aha--_anti_ and _nomos_--I understand--well, if I except these dusty +superfluities, I may say that your furnishings are really faultless. +The quotations from Goethe are really more appropriate, although I +could do without them." + +"I'll have them swept out," she said in playful submission. + +"You are a dear girl," he said playfully and passed his hand +caressingly over her severely combed hair. + +She grasped his arm with both hands and remained motionless for a +moment during which her eyes fastened themselves upon his with a +strangely rigid gleam. + +"What evil have I done?" he asked. "Do you remember our childhood's +verse: 'I am small, my heart is pure?' Have mercy on me." + +"I was only playing at passion," she said with the old half-wistful, +half-mocking smile, "in order that our relations may not lose solid +ground utterly." + +"What do you mean?" he asked, pretending astonishment. "And do you +really think, Richard, that between us, things, being as they +are--are right?" + +"I can't imagine any change that could take place at present." + +She hid a hot flush of shame. She was obviously of the opinion that he +had interpreted her meaning in the light of a desire for marriage. All +earthly possibilities had been discussed between them: this one alone +had been sedulously avoided in all their conversations. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he continued, determined to skirt the +dangerous subject with grace and ease, "there's no question here of +anything external, of any change of front with reference to the world. +It's far too late for that. ... Let us remain--if I may so put it--in +our spiritual four walls. Given our characters or, I had better say, +given your character I see no other relation between us that promises +any permanence.... If I were to pursue you with a kind of infatuation, +or you me with jealousy--it would be insupportable to us both." + +She did not reply but gently rolled and unrolled the narrow, blue silk +scarf of her gown. + +"As it is, we live happily and at peace," he went on, "Each of us has +liberty and an individual existence and yet we know how deeply rooted +our hearts are in each other." + +She heaved a sigh of painful oppression. "Aren't you content?" he +asked, + +"For heaven's sake! Surely!" Her voice was frightened, "No one could +be more content than I. If only----" + +"Well--what?" + +"If only it weren't for the lonely evenings!" + +A silence ensued. This was a sore point and had always been. He knew +it well. But he had to have his evenings to himself. There was nothing +to be done about that. + +"You musn't think me immodest in my demands," she went on in hasty +exculpation. "I'm not even aiming my remarks at you ... I'm only +thinking aloud.... But you see, I can't get any real foothold in +society until--until my affairs are more clarified.... To run about +the drawing-rooms as an example of frivolous heedlessness--that's not +my way.... I can always hear them whisper behind me: 'She doesn't take +it much to heart, that shows ...' No, I'd rather stay at home. I have +no friends either and what chance had I to make them? You were always +my one and only friend.... My books remain. And that's very well by +day ... but when the lamps are lit I begin to throb and ache and run +about ... and I listen for the trill of the door-bell. But no one +comes, nothing--except the evening paper. And that's only in winter. +Now it's brought before dusk. And in the end there's nothing worth +while in it.... And so life goes day after day. At last one creeps +into bed at half-past nine and, of course, has a wretched night." + +"Well, but how am I to help you, dear child?" he asked thoughtfully. +He was touched by her quiet, almost serene complaint. "If we took to +passing our evenings together, scandal would soon have us by the +throat, and then--woe to you!" + +Her eager eyes gazed bravely at him. + +"Well," she said at last, "suppose----" + +"What?" + +"Never mind. I don't want you to think me unwomanly. And what I've +been describing to you is, after all, only a symptom. There's a kind +of restlessness in me that I can't explain.... If I were of a less +active temper, things would be better.... It sounds paradoxical, but +just because I have so much activity in me, do I weary so quickly. +Goethe said once----" + +He raised his hands in laughing protest. + +She was really frightened. + +"Ah, yes, forgive me," she cried. "All that was to be swept out.... +How forgetful one can be...." + +Smiling, she leaned her head against his shoulder and was not to be +persuaded from her silence. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +"There are delicate boundaries within the realm of the eternal +womanly,"--thus Niebeldingk reflected next day,--"in which one is +sorely puzzled as to what one had better put into an envelope: a poem +or a cheque." + +His latest adventure--the cause of these reflections--had blossomed, +the evening before, like the traditional rose on the dungheap. + +One of his friends who had travelled about the world a good deal and +who now assumed the part of the full-blown Parisian, had issued +invitations to a house-warming in his new bachelor-apartment. He had +invited a number of his gayer friends and ladies exclusively from +so-called artistic circles. So far all was quite Parisian. Only the +journalists who might, next morning, have proclaimed the glory of the +festivity to the world--these were excluded. Berlin, for various +reasons, did not seem an appropriate place for that. + +It was a rather dreary sham orgy. Even chaperones were present. +Several ladies had carefully brought them and they could scarcely be +put out. Other ladies even thought it incumbent upon them to ask after +the wives of the gentlemen present and to turn up their noses when it +appeared that these were conspicuous by their absence. It was upon +this occasion, however, that some beneficent chance assigned to +Niebeldingk a sighing blonde who remained at his side all evening. + +Her name was Meta, she belonged to one of the "best families" of +Posen, she lived in Berlin with her mother who kept a boarding house +for ladies of the theatre. She herself nursed the ardent desire to +dedicate herself to art, for "the ideal" had always been the guiding +star of her existence. + +At the beginning of supper she expressed herself with a fine +indignation concerning the ladies present into whose midst--she +assured him eagerly--she had fallen through sheer accident. Later she +thawed out, assumed a friendly companionableness to these despised +individuals and, in order to raise Niebeldingk's delight to the +highest point, admitted with maidenly frankness the indescribable and +mysterious attraction toward him which she had felt at the +first glance. + +Of course, her principles were impregnable. He mustn't doubt that. She +would rather seek a moist death in the waves than.... and so forth. +Although she made this solemn proclamation over the dessert, the +consequence of it all was an intimate visit to Niebeldingk's dwelling +which came to a bitter sweet end at three o'clock in the morning with +gentle tears concerning the wickedness of men in general and of +himself in particular.... + +An attack of _katzenjammer_--such as is scarcely ever spared worldly +people of forty--threw a sobering shadow upon this event. The shadow +crept forward too, and presaged annoyance. + +He was such an old hand now, and didn't even know into what category +she really fitted. Was it, after all, impossible that behind all this +frivolity the desire to take up the struggle for existence on cleanly +terms stuck in her little head? + +At all events he determined to spare the possible wounding of outraged +womanliness and to wait before putting any final stamp upon the nature +of their relations. Hence he set out to play the tender lover by means +of the well-tried device of a bunch of Indian lilies. + +When he was about to give the order for the flowers to John who +always, upon these occasions, assumed a conscientiously stupid +expression, a new doubt overcame him. + +Was he not desecrating the gift which had brought consolation and +absolution to many a remorseful heart, by sending it to a girl who, +for all he knew, played a sentimental part only as a matter of decent +form? ... Wasn't there grave danger of her assuming an undue +self-importance when she felt that she was taken tragically? + +"Well, what did it matter? ... A few flowers! ..." + +Early on the evening of the next day Meta reappeared. She was dressed +in sombre black. She wept persistently and made preparations to stay. + +Niebeldingk gave her to understand that, in the first place, he had no +more time for her that evening, and that, in the second place, she +would do well to go home at a proper hour and spare herself the +reproaches of her mother. + +"Oh, my little mother, my little mother," she wailed. "How shall I +ever present myself to her sight again? Keep me, my beloved! I can +never approach my, mother again." + +He rang for his hat and gloves. + +When she saw that he was serious she wept a few more perfunctory tears +and went. + +Her visits repeated themselves and didn't become any more delightful. +On the contrary ... the heart-broken maiden gave him to understand +that her lost honour could be restored only by the means of a speedy +marriage. This exhausted his patience. He saw that he had been +thoroughly taken in and so, observing all necessary considerateness, +he sent her definitely about her business. + +Next day the "little mother" appeared on the scene. She was a +dignified woman of fifty, equipped as the Genius of Vengeance, +exceedingly glib of tongue and by no means sentimental. + +As she belonged to one of the first families of Posen, it was her duty +to lay particular stress upon the honour of her daughter whom he had +lured to his house and there wickedly seduced. ... She was prepared to +repel any overtures toward a compromise. She belonged to one of the +best families of Posen and was not prepared to sell her daughter's +virtue. The only possible way of adjusting the matter was an +immediate marriage. + +Thereupon she began to scream and scold and John, who acted as master +of ceremonies, escorted her with a patronising smile to the door.... + +Next came the visits of an old gentleman in a Prince Albert and the +ribbon of some decoration in his button-hole.--John had strict orders +to admit no strangers. But the old gentleman was undaunted. He came +morning, noon and night and finally settled down on the stairs where +Niebeldingk could not avoid meeting him. He was the uncle of Miss +Meta, a former servant of the government and a knight of several +honourable orders. As such it was his duty to demand the immediate +restitution of his niece's honour, else--Niebeldingk simply turned his +back and the knight of several honourable orders trotted, grumbling, +down the stairs. + +Up to this point Niebeldingk had striven to regard the whole business +in a humorous light. It now began It now began to promise serious +annoyance. He told the story at his club and the men laughed +boisterously, but no one knew anything to the detriment of Miss Meta. +She had been introduced by a lady who played small parts at a large +theatre and important parts at a small one. The lady was called to +account for her protegee. She refused to speak. + +"It's all the fault of those accursed Indian lilies," Niebeldingk +grumbled one afternoon at his window as he watched the knight of +various honourable orders parade the street as undaunted as ever. "Had +I treated her with less delicacy, she would never have risked playing +the part of an innocent victim." + +At that moment John announced Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +The boy came in dressed in an admirably fitting summer suit. He was +radiant with youth and strength, victory gleamed in his eye; a hymn of +victory seemed silently singing on his lips. + +"Well Fritz, you seem merry," said Niebeldingk and patted the boy's +shoulder. He could not suppress a smile of sad envy. + +"Don't ask me! Why shouldn't I be happy? Life is so beautiful, yes, +beautiful. Only you musn't have any dealings with women. That plays +the deuce with one." + +"You don't know yourself how right you are," Niebeldingk sighed, +looking out of the corner of an eye at the knight of several +honourable orders who had now taken up his station in the shelter of +the house opposite. + +"Oh, but I do know it," Fritz answered. "If I could describe to you +the contempt with which I regard my former mode of life ... everything +is different ... different ... so much purer ... nobler ... I'm +absolutely a stoic now.... And that gives one a feeling of such peace, +such serenity! And I have you to thank for it, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +"I don't understand that. To teach in the _stoa_ is a new employment +for me." + +"Well, didn't you introduce me to that noble lady? Wasn't it you?" + +"Aha," said Niebeldingk. The image of Alice, smiling a gentle +reproach, arose before him. + +In the midst of this silly and sordid business that had overtaken him, +he had almost lost sight of her. More than a week had passed since he +had crossed her threshold. + +"How is the dear lady?" he asked. + +"Oh, splendid," Fritz said, "just splendid." + +"Have you seen her often?" + +"Certainly," Fritz replied, "we're reading Marcus Aurelius together +now." + +"Thank heaven," Niebeldingk laughed, "I see that she's well taken care +of." + +He made up his mind to see her within the next hour. + +Fritz who had only come because he needed to overflow to some one with +the joy of life that was in him, soon started to go. + +At the door he turned and said timidly and with downcast eyes. + +"I have one request to make----" + +"Fire away, Fritz! How much?" + +"Oh, I don't need money ... I'd like to have the address of your +florist ...I'd like to send to the dear lady a bunch of the ... the +Indian lilies." + +"What? Are you mad?" Niebeldingk cried. + +"Why do you ask that?" Fritz was hurt. "May I not also send that +symbol to a lady whose purity and loftiness of soul I reverence. I +suppose I'm old enough!" + +"I see. You're quite right. Forgive me." Niebeldingk bit his lips and +gave the lad the address. + +Fritz thanked him and went. + +Niebeldingk gave way to his mirth and called for his hat. He wanted to +go to her at once. But--for better or worse--he changed his mind, for +yonder in the gateway, unabashed, stood the knight of several +honourable orders. + + + + +Chapter VII + + +To be sure, one can't stand eternally in a gateway. Finally the knight +deserted his post and vanished into a sausage shop. The hour had come +when even the most glowing passion of revenge fades gently into a +passion for supper. + +Niebeldingk who had waited behind his curtain, half-amused, +half-bored--for in the silent, distinguished street where everyone +knew him a scandal was to be avoided at any cost--Niebeldingk hastened +to make up for his neglect at once. + +The dark fell. Here and there the street-lamps flickered through the +purple air of the summer dusk.... + +The maid who opened the door looked at him with cool astonishment as +though he were half a stranger who had the audacity to pay a call at +this intimate hour. + +"That means a scolding," he thought. + +But he was mistaken. + +Smiling quietly, Alice arose from the couch where she had been sitting +by the light of a shaded lamp and stretched out her hand with all her +old kindliness. The absence of the otherwise inevitable book was the +only change that struck him. + +"We haven't seen each other for a long time," he said, making a +wretched attempt at an explanation. + +"Is it so long?" she asked frankly. + +"Thank you for your gentle punishment." He kissed her hand. Then he +chatted, more or less at random, of disagreeable business matters, of +preparations for a journey, and so forth. + +"So you are going away?" she asked tensely. + +The word had escaped him, he scarcely knew how. Now that he had +uttered it, however, he saw very clearly that nothing better remained +for him to do than to carry the casual thought into action.... Here he +passed a fruitless, enervating life, slothful, restless and +humiliating; at home there awaited him light, useful work, dreamless +sleep, and the tonic sense of being the master. + +All that, in other days, held him in Berlin, namely, this modest, +clever, flexible woman had almost passed from his life. Steady neglect +had done its work. If he went now, scarcely the smallest gap would be +torn into the fabric of his life. + +Or did it only seem so? Was she more deeply rooted in his heart than +he had ever confessed even to himself? They were both silent. She +stood very near him and sought to read the answer to her question in +his eyes. A kind of anxious joy appeared upon her slightly +worn features. + +"I'm needed at home," he said at last. "It is high time for me. If you +desire I'll look after your affairs too." + +"Mine? Where?" + +"Well, I thought we were neighbours there--more than here. Or have you +forgotten the estate?" + +"Let us leave aside the matter of being neighbours," she answered, +"and I don't suppose that I have much voice in the management of the +estate as long as--he lives. The guardians will see to that." + +"But you could run down there once in a while ... in the summer for +instance. Your place is always ready for you. I saw to that." + +"Ah, yes, you saw to that." The wistful irony that he had so often +noted was visible again. + +For the first time he understood its meaning. + +"She has made things too easy for me," he reflected. "I should have +felt my chains. Then, too, I would have realised what I possessed +in her." + +But did he not still possess her? What, after all, had changed since +those days of quiet companionship? Why should he think of her as +lost to him? + +He could not answer this question. But he felt a dull restlessness. A +sense of estrangement told him: All is not here as it was. + +"Since when do you live in dreams, Alice?" he asked, surveying the +empty table by which he had found her. + +His question had been innocent, but it seemed to carry a sting. She +blushed and looked past him. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Good heavens, to sit all evening without books and let the light burn +in vain--that was not your wont heretofore." + +"Oh, that's it. Ah well, one can't be poking in books all the time. +And for the past few days my eyes have been aching." + +"With secret tears?" he teased. + +She gave him a wide, serious look. + +"With secret tears," she repeated. + +"_Ah perfido_!" he trilled, in order to avoid the scene which he +feared ... But he was on the wrong scent. She herself interrupted him +with the question whether he would stay to supper. + +He was curious to find the causes of the changes that he felt here. +For that reason and also because he was not without compunction, he +consented to stay. + +She rang and ordered a second cover to be laid. + +Louise looked at her mistress with a disapproving glance and went. + +"Dear me," he laughed, "the servants are against me ... I am lost." + +"You have taken to noticing such things very recently." She gave a +perceptible shrug. + +"When a wife tells a husband of his newly acquired habits, he is +doubly lost," he answered and gave her his arm. + +The silver gleamed on the table ... the tea-kettle puffed out delicate +clouds ... exquisitely tinted apples, firm as in Autumn, smiled +at him. + +A word of admiration escaped him. And then, once more, he saw that +tragic smile on her lips--sad, wistful, almost compassionate. + +"My darling," he said with sudden tenderness and caressed her +shoulder. + +She nodded and smiled. That was all. + +At table her mood was an habitual one. Perhaps she was a trifle +gentler. He attributed that to his approaching departure. + +She drank a glass of Madeira at the beginning of the meal, the light +Rhine wine she took in long, thirsty draughts, she even touched the +brandy at the meal's end. + +An inner fire flared in her. He suspected that, he felt it. She had +touched no food. But she permitted nothing to appear on the surface. +On the contrary, the emotional warmth that she had shown earlier +disappeared. The play of her thoughts grew cooler, clearer, more +cutting, the longer she talked. + +Twice or thrice quotations from Goethe were about to escape her, but +she did not utter them. Smiling she tapped her own lips. + +When he observed that she was really restraining a genuine impulse he +begged her to consider the protest he had once uttered as merely a +jest, perhaps even an ill-considered one. But she said: "Let be, it +is as well." + +They conversed, as they had often done, of the perished days of their +old love. They spoke like two beings who have long conquered all the +struggles of the heart and who, in the calm harbour of friendship, +regard with equanimity the storms which they have weathered. + +This way of speaking had gradually, and with a kind of jocular +moroseness, crept into their intercourse. The exciting thing about it +was the silent reservation felt by both: We know how different things +could be, so soon as we desired. To-day, for the first time, this +game at renunciation seemed to become serious. + +"How strange!" he thought. "Here we sit who are dearest to each other +in all the world and a kind of futile arrogance drives us farther and +farther apart." + +Alice arose. + +He kissed her, as was his wont, upon hand and forehead and noted how +she turned aside with a slight shiver. Then suddenly she took his head +in both her hands and kissed him full on the lips with a kind of +desperate eagerness. + +"Ah," he cried, "what is that? It's more than I have a right to +expect." + +"Forgive me," she said, withdrawing herself at once. "We're poverty +stricken folk and haven't much to give each other." + +"After what I have just experienced, I'm inclined to believe the +contrary." + +But she seemed little inclined to draw the logical consequences of her +action. Quietly she gave him his wonted cigarette, lit her own, and +sat down in her old place. With rounded lips she blew little clouds of +smoke against the table-cover. + +"Whenever I regard you in this manner," he said, carefully feeling his +way, "it always seems to me that you have some silent reservation, as +though you were waiting for something." "It may be," she answered, +blushing anew, "I sit by the way-side, like the man in the story, and +think of the coming of my fate." + +"Fate? What fate?" + +"Ah, who can tell, dear friend? That which one foresees is no longer +one's fate!" + +"Perhaps it's just the other way." + +She drew back sharply and looked past him in tense thoughtfulness. +"Perhaps you are right," she said, with a little mysterious sigh. "It +may be as you say." + +He was no wiser than he had been. But since he held it beneath his +dignity to assume the part of the jealous master, he abandoned the +search for her secrets with a shrug. The secrets could be of no great +importance. No one knew better than himself the moderateness of her +desires, no lover, in calm possession of his beloved, had so little to +fear as he.... + +They discussed their plans for the Summer. He intended to go to the +North Sea in Autumn, an old affection attracted her to Thuringia. The +possibility of their meeting was touched only in so far as courtesy +demanded it. + +And once more silence fell upon the little drawing-room. Through the +twilight an old, phantastic Empire clock announced the hurrying +minutes with a hoarse tick. + +In other days a magical mood had often filled this room--the presage +of an exquisite flame and its happy death. All that had vibrated here. +Nothing remained. They had little to say to each other. That was what +time had left. + +He played thoughtfully with his cigarette. She stared into nothingness +with great, dreamy eyes. + +And suddenly she began to weep ... + +He almost doubted his own perception, but the great glittering tears +ran softly down her smiling face. + +But he was satiated with women's tears. In the fleeting amatory +adventures of the past weeks and months, he had seen so many--some +genuine, some sham, all superfluous. And so instead of consoling her, +he conceived a feeling of sarcasm and nausea: "Now even she +carries on!".... + +The idea did indeed flash into his mind that this moment might be +decisive and pregnant with the fate of the future, but his horror of +scenes and explanations restrained him. + +Wearily he assumed the attitude of one above the storms of the soul +and sought a jest with which to recall her to herself. But before he +found it she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and slipped from +the room. + +"So much the better," he thought and lit a fresh cigarette, "If she +lets her passion spend itself in silence it will pass the +more swiftly." + +Walking up and down he indulged in philosophic reflections concerning +the useless emotionality of woman, and the duty of man not to be +infected by it ... He grew quite warm in the proud consciousness of +his heart's coldness. + +Then suddenly--from the depth of the silence that was about +him--resounded in a long-drawn, shrill, whirring voice that he had +never heard--his own name. + +"Rrricharrd!" it shrilled, stern and hard as the command of some +paternal martinet. The voice seemed to come from subterranean depths. + +He shivered and looked about. Nothing moved. There was no living soul +in the next room. + +"Richard!" the voice sounded a second time. This time the sound seemed +but a few paces from him, but it arose from the ground as though a +teasing goblin lay under his chair. + +He bent over and peered into dark corners. + +The mystery was solved: Joko, Alice's parrot, having secretly stolen +from his quarters, sat on the rung of a chair and played the evil +conscience of the house. + +The tame animal stepped with dignity upon his outstretched hand and +permitted itself to be lifted into the light.... Its glittering +neck-feathers stood up, and while it whetted its beak on Niebeldingk's +cuff-links, it repeated in a most subterranean voice: "Richard!" + +And suddenly the dear feeling of belonging here, of being at home came +over Niebeldingk. He had all but lost it. But its gentle power drew +him on and refreshed him. + +It was his right and his duty to be at home here where a dear woman +lived so exclusively for him that the voice of her yearning sounded +even from the tongue of the brute beast that she possessed! There was +no possibility of feeling free and alien here. + +"I must find her!" he thought quickly, "I musn't leave her alone +another second." + +He set Joko carefully on the table and sought to reach her bed-room +which he had never entered by this approach. + +In the door that led to the rear hall she met him. Her demeanour had +its accustomed calm, her eyes were clear and dry. + +"My poor, dear darling!" he cried and wanted to take her in his arms. + +A strange, repelling glance met him and interrupted his beautiful +emotion. Something hardened in him and he felt a new inclination +to sarcasm. + +"Forgive me for leaving you," she said, "one must have patience with +the folly of my sex. You know that well." + +And she preceded him to his old place. + +Screaming with pleasure Joko flew forward to meet her, and Niebeldingk +remained standing to take his leave. + +She did not hold him back. + +Outside it occurred to him that he hadn't told her the anecdote of +Fritz and the Indian lilies. + +"It's a pity," he thought, "it might have cheered her." ... + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +Next morning Niebeldingk sat at his desk and reflected with +considerable discomfort on the experience of the previous evening. +Suddenly he observed, across the street, restlessly waiting in the +same doorway--the avenging spirit! + +It was an opportune moment. It would distract him to make an example +of the fellow. Nothing better could have happened. + +He rang for John and ordered him to bring up the wretched fellow and, +furthermore, to hold himself in readiness for an act of vigorous +expulsion. + +Five minutes passed. Then the door opened and, diffidently, but with a +kind of professional dignity, the knight of several honourable orders +entered the room. + +Niebeldingk made rapid observations: A beardless, weatherworn old face +with pointed, stiff, white brows. The little, watery eyes knew how to +hide their cunning, for nothing was visible in them save an expression +of wonder and consternation. The black frock coat was threadbare but +clean, his linen was spotless. He wore a stock which had been the +last word of fashion at the time of the July revolution. + +"A sharper of the most sophisticated sort," Niebeldingk concluded. + +"Before any discussion takes place," he said sharply. "I must know +with whom I am dealing." + +The old man drew off with considerable difficulty his torn, gray, +funereal gloves and, from the depths of a greasy pocket-book, produced +a card which had, evidently, passed through a good many hands. + +"A sharper," Niebeldingk repeated to himself, "but on a pretty low +plane." He read the card: "Kohleman, retired clerk of court." And +below was printed the addition: "Knight of several orders." + +"What decorations have you?" he asked. + +"I have been very graciously granted the Order of the Crown, fourth +class, and the general order for good behaviour." + +"Sit down," Niebeldingk replied, impelled by a slight instinctive +respect. + +"Thank you, I'll take the liberty," the old gentleman answered and sat +down on the extreme edge of a chair. + +"Once on the stairs you--" he was about to say "attacked me," but he +repressed the words. "I know," he began, "what your business is. +And now tell me frankly: Do you think any man in the world such a fool +as to contemplate marriage because a frivolous young thing whose +acquaintance he made at a supper given to 'cocottes' accompanies him, +in the middle of the night, to his bachelor quarters? Do you think +that a reasonable proposition?" + +"No," the old gentleman answered with touching honesty. "But you know +it's pretty discouraging to have Meta get into that kind of a mess. +I've had my suspicions for some time that that baggage is a keener, +and I've often said to my sister: 'Look here, these theatrical women +are no proper company for a girl--'" + +"Well then," Niebeldingk exclaimed, overcome with astonishment, "if +that's the case, what are you after?" + +"I?" the old gentleman quavered and pointed a funereal glove at his +breast, "I? Oh, dear sakes alive! I'm not after anything. Do you +imagine, my dear sir, that I get any fun out of tramping up and down +in front of your house on my old legs? I'd rather sit in a corner and +leave strange people to their own business. But what can I do? I live +in my sister's house, and I do pay her a little board, for I'd never +take a present, not a penny--that was never my way. But what I pay +isn't much, you know, and so I have to make myself a bit useful in the +boarding-house. The ladies have little errands, you know. And they're +quite nice, too, except that they get as nasty as can be if their +rooms aren't promptly cleaned in the morning, and so I help with the +dusting, too ... If only it weren't for my asthma ... I tell, you, +asthma, my dear sir--" + +He stopped for an attack of coughing choked him. + +With a sudden kindly emotion Niebeldingk regarded the terrible avenger +in horror of whom he had lived four mortal days. He told him to +stretch his poor old legs and asked him whether he'd like a glass +of Madeira. + +The old gentleman's face brightened. If it would surely give no +trouble he would take the liberty of accepting. + +Niebeldingk rang and John entered with a grand inquisitorial air. He +recoiled when he saw the monster so comfortable and, for the first +time in his service, permitted himself a gentle shake of the head. + +The old gentleman emptied his glass in one gulp and wiped his mouth +with a brownish cotton handkerchief. Fragments of tobacco flew about. +He looked so tenderly at the destroyer of his family as though he had +a sneaking desire to join the enemy. + +"Well, well," he began again. "What's to be done? If my sister takes +something into her head.... And anyhow, I'll tell you in confidence, +she is a devil. Oh deary me, what I have to put up with from her! It's +no good getting into trouble with her! ... If you want to avoid any +unpleasantness, I can only advise you to consent right away.... You +can back out later.... But that would be the easiest way." + +Niebeldingk laughed heartily. + +"Yes, you can laugh," the old gentleman said sadly, "that's because +you don't know my sister." + +"But _you_ know her, my dear man. And do you suppose that she may have +other, that is to say, financial aims, while she----" + +The old gentleman looked at him with great scared eyes. + +"How do you mean?" he said and crushed the brown handkerchief in his +hollow hand. + +"Well, well, well," Niebeldingk quieted him and poured a reconciling +second glass of wine. + +But he wasn't to be bribed. + +"Permit me, my dear sir," he said, "but you misunderstand me +entirely.... Even if I do help my sister in the house, and even if I +do go on errands, I would never have consented to go on such an +one.... I said to my sister: It's marriage or nothing.... We don't go +in for blackmail, of that you may be sure." "Well, my dear man," +Niebeldingk laughed, "If that's the alternative, then--nothing!" + +The old gentleman grew quite peaceable again. + +"Goodness knows, you're quite right. But you will have +unpleasantnesses, mark my word. ... And if she has to appeal to the +Emperor, my sister said. And my sister--I mention it quite in +confidence--my sister--" + +"Is a devil, I understand." + +"Exactly." + +He laughed slyly as one who is getting even with an old enemy and +drank, with every evidence of delight, the second glassful of wine. + +Niebeldingk considered. Whether unfathomable stupidity or equally +unfathomable sophistication lay at the bottom of all this--the +business was a wretched one. It was just such an affair as would be +dragged through every scandal mongering paper in the city, thoroughly +equipped, of course, with the necessary moral decoration. He could +almost see the heavy headlines: Rascality of a Nobleman. + +"Yes, yes, my dear fellow," he said, and patted the terrible enemy's +shoulder, "I tell you it's a dog's life. If you can avoid it any +way--never go in for fast living." + +The old gentleman shook his gray head sadly. + +"That's all over," he declared, "but twenty years ago--" +Niebeldingk cut short the approaching confidences. + +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked. "And what will your +sister do when you come home and announce my refusal?" + +"I'll tell you, Baron. In fact, my sister required that I _should_ +tell you, because that is to--" he giggled--"that is to have a +profound effect. We've got a nephew, I must tell you, who's a +lieutenant in the army. Well, he is to come at once and challenge you +to a duel.... Well, now, a duel is always a pretty nasty piece of +business. First, there's the scandal, and then, one _might_ get hurt. +And so my sister thought that you'd rather----" + +"Hold on, my excellent friend," said Niebeldingk and a great weight +rolled from his heart. "You have an officer in your family? That's +splendid ... I couldn't ask anything better ... You wire him at once +and tell him that I'll be at home three days running and ready to give +him the desired explanations. I'm sorry for the poor fellow for being +mixed up in such a stupid mess, but I can't help him." + +"Why do you feel sorry for him?" the old gentleman asked. "He's as +good a marksman as you are." + +"Assuredly," Niebeldingk returned. "Assuredly a better one.... Only it +won't come to that." + +He conducted his visitor with great ceremony into the outer hall. + +The latter remained standing for a moment in the door. He grasped +Niebeldingk's hand with overflowing friendliness. + +"My dear baron, you have been so nice to me and so courteous. Permit +me, in return, to offer you an old man's counsel: Be more careful +about flowers!" + +"What flowers?" + +"Well, you sent a great, costly bunch of them. That's what first +attracted my sister's attention. And when my sister gets on the track +of anything, well!" ... + +He shook with pleasure at the sly blow he had thus delivered, drew +those funereal gloves of his from the crown of his hat and took +his leave. + +"So it was the fault of the Indian lilies," Niebeldingk thought, +looking after the queer old knight with an amused imprecation. That +gentleman, enlivened by the wine he had taken, pranced with a new +flexibility along the side-walk. "Like the count in _Don Juan_," +Niebeldingk thought, "only newly equipped and modernised." + +The intervention of the young officer placed the whole affair upon +an intelligible basis. It remained only to treat it with entire +seriousness. Niebeldingk, according to his promise, remained at home +until sunset for three boresome days. On the morning of the fourth he +wrote a letter to the excellent old gentleman telling him that he was +tired of waiting and requesting an immediate settlement of the +business in question. Thereupon he received the following answer: + +"SIR:-- + +In the name of my family I declare to you herewith that I give you +over to the well-deserved contempt of your fellowmen. A man who can +hesitate to restore the honour of a loving and yielding girl is not +worthy of an alliance with our family. Hence we now sever any further +connection with you. + +With that measure of esteem which you deserve, + +I am, + +KOHLEMAN, _Retired Clerk of Court_. + +Knight S.H.O. + +P.S. + +Best regards. Don't mind all that talk. The duel came to nothing. Our +little lieutenant besought us not to ruin him and asked that his name +be not mentioned. He has left town." + +Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Niebeldingk threw the letter aside. + +Now that the affair was about to float into oblivion, he became +aware of the fact that it had weighed most heavily upon him. + +And he began to feel ashamed. + +He, a man who, by virtue of his name and of his wealth and, if he +would be bold, by virtue of his intellect, was able to live in some +noble and distinguished way--he passed his time with banalities that +were half sordid and half humorous. These things had their place. +Youth might find them not unfruitful of experience. They degraded a +man of forty. + +If these things filled his life to-day, then the years of training and +slow maturing had surely gone for nothing. And what would become of +him if he carried these interests into his old age? His schoolmates +were masters of the great sciences, distinguished servants of the +government, influential politicians. They toiled in the sweat of their +brows and harvested the fruits of their youth's sowing. + +He strove to master these discomforting thoughts, but every moment +found him more defenceless against them. + +And shame changed into disgust. + +To divert himself he went out into the streets and landed, finally, in +the rooms of his club. Here he was asked concerning his latest +adventure. Only a certain respect which his personality inspired saved +him from unworthy jests. And in this poverty-stricken world, where +the very lees of experience amounted to a sensation--here he +wasted his days. + +It must not last another week, not another day. So much suddenly grew +clear to him. + +He hurried away. Upon the streets brooded the heat of early summer. +Masses of human beings, hot but happy, passed him in silent activity. + +What was he to do? + +He must marry: that admitted of no doubt. In the glow of his own +hearth he must begin a new and more tonic life. + +Marry? But whom? A worn out heart can no longer be made to beat more +swiftly at the sight of some slim maiden. The senses might yet be +stirred, but that is all. + +Was he to haunt watering-places and pay court to mothers on the +man-hunt in order to find favour in their daughters' eyes? Was he to +travel from estate to estate and alienate the affection of young +_chatelaines_ from their favourite lieutenants? + +Impossible! + +He went home hopelessly enough and drowsed away the hours of the +afternoon behind drawn blinds on a hot couch. + +Toward evening the postman brought a letter--in Alice's hand. +Alice! How could he have forgotten her! His first duty should have +been to see her. + +He opened the envelope, warmly grateful for her mere existence. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +As you will probably not find time before you leave the city to bid me +farewell in person. I beg you to return to me a certain key which I +gave into your keeping some years ago. You have no need of it and it +worries me to have it lying about. + +Don't think that I am at all angry. My friendship and my gratitude are +yours, however far and long we may be separated. When, some day, we +meet again, we will both have become different beings. With many +blessings upon your way, + +ALICE." + +He struck his forehead like a man who awakens from an obscene dream. + +Where was his mind? He was about to go in search of that which was so +close at hand, so richly his own! + +Where else in all the world could he find a woman so exquisitely +tempered to his needs, so intimately responsive to his desires, one +who would lead him into the darker land of matrimony through meadows +of laughing flowers? + +To be sure, there was her coolness of temper, her learning, her +strange restlessness. But was not all that undergoing a change? Had he +not found her sunk in dreams? And her tears? And her kiss? + +Ungrateful wretch that he was! + +He had sought a home and not thought of the parrot who screamed out +his name in her dear dwelling. There was a parrot like that in the +world--and he wandered foolishly abroad. What madness! What baseness! + +He would go to her at once. + +But no! A merry thought struck him and a healing one. + +He took the key from the wall and put it into his pocket. + +He would go to her--at midnight. + + + + +Chapter IX. + + +He had definitely abandoned his club, the theatres were closed, the +restaurants were deserted, his brother's family was in the country. It +was not easy to pass the evening with that great resolve in his heart +and that small key in his pocket. + +Until ten he drifted about under the foliage of the _Tiergarten_. He +listened to the murmur of couples who thronged the dark benches, +regarded those who were quietly walking in the alleys and found +himself, presently, in that stream of humanity which is drawn +irresistibly toward the brightly illuminated pleasure resorts. + +He was moved and happy at once. For the first time in years he felt +himself to be a member of the family of man, a humbly serving brother +in the commonweal of social purpose. + +His time of proud, individualistic morality was over: the +ever-blessing institution of the family was about to gather him to its +hospitable bosom. + +To be sure, his wonted scepticism was not utterly silenced. But he +drove it away with a feeling of delighted comfort. He could have +shouted a blessing to the married couples in search of air, he could +have given a word of fatherly advice to the couples on the benches: +"Children, commit no indiscretions--marry!" + +And when he thought of her! A mild and peaceable tenderness of which +he had never thought himself capable welled up from his and heart.... +Wide gardens of Paradise seemed to open, gardens with secret grottos +and shady corners. And upon one of the palm-trees there sat +Joko--amiable beast--and said: "Rrricharrrd!" + +He went over the coming scene in his imagination again and again: Her +little cry of panic when he would enter the dark room and then his +whispered reassurance: "It is I, my darling. I have come back to stay +for ever and ever." + +And then happiness, gentle and heart-felt. + +If a divorce was necessary, the relatives of her husband would +probably succeed in divesting her of most of the property. What did it +matter to either of them? Was he not rich and was she not sure of him? +If need were, he could, with one stroke of the pen, repay her +threefold all that she might lose. But, indeed, these reflections were +quite futile. For when two people are so welded together in their +souls, their earthly possessions need no separation. From ten until +half past eleven he sat in a corner of the _Cafe Bauer_ and read the +paper of his native province which, usually, he never looked at. With +childlike delight he read into the local notices and advertisements +things pertinent to his future life. + +Bremsel, the delicatessen man in a neighbouring town advertised fresh +crabs. And Alice liked them. "Splendid," he thought "we won't have to +bring them from far." And suddenly he himself felt an appetite for the +shell-fish, so thoroughly had he lived himself into his vision of +domestic felicity. + +At twenty-five minutes of twelve he paid for his chartreuse and set +out on foot. He had time to spare and he did not want to cause the +unavoidable disturbance of a cab's stopping at her door. + +The house, according to his hope, was dark and silent. + +With beating heart he drew forth the key which consisted of two +collapsible parts. One part was for the house door, the other for a +door in her bed-room that led to a separate entrance. He had himself +chosen the apartment with this advantage in view. + +He passed the lower hall unmolested and reached the creaking stairs +which he had always hated. And as he mounted he registered an oath +to pass this way no more. He would not thus jeopardise the fair fame +of his betrothed. + +It would be bad enough if he had to rap, in case the night latch was +drawn.... + +The outer door, at least, offered no difficulty. He touched it and it +swung loose on its hinges. + +For a moment the mad idea came into his head that--in answer to her +letter--Alice might have foreseen the possibility of his coming.... He +was just about to test, by a light pressure, the knob of the inner +door when, coming from the bed-room, a muffled sound of speech +reached his ear. + +One voice was Alice's: the other--his breath stopped. It was not the +maid's. He knew it well. It was the voice of Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +It was over then--for him.... And again and again he murmured: "It's +all over." + +He leaned weakly against the wall. + +Then he listened. + +This woman who could not yield with sufficient fervour to the abandon +of passionate speech and action--this was Alice, his Alice, with her +fine sobriety, her philosophic clearness of mind. + +And that young fool whose mouth she closed with long kisses of +gratitude for his folly--did he realise the blessedness which had +fallen to the lot of his crude youth? It was over ... all over. + +And he was so worn, so passionless, so autumnal of soul, that he could +smile wearily in the midst of his pain. + +Very carefully he descended the creaking stairs, locked the door of +the house and stood on the street--still smiling. + +It was over ... all over. + +Her future was trodden into the mire, hers and his own. + +And in this supreme moment he grew cruelly aware of his crimes against +her. + +All her love, all her being during these years had been but one secret +prayer: "Hold me, do not break me, do not desert me!" + +He had been deaf. He had given her a stone for bread, irony for love, +cold doubt for warm, human trust! And in the end he had even despised +her because she had striven, with touching faith, to form herself +according to his example. + +It was all fatally clear--now. + +Her contradictions, her lack of feeling, her haughty scepticism--all +that had chilled and estranged him had been but a dutiful reflection +of his own being. + +Need he be surprised that the last remnant of her lost and corrupted +youth rose in impassioned rebellion against him and, thinking to +save itself, hurled itself to destruction? + +He gave one farewell glance to the dark, silent house--the grave of +the fairest hopes of all his life. Then he set out upon long, dreary, +aimless wandering through the endless, nocturnal streets. + +Like shadows the shapes of night glided by him. + +Shy harlots--loud roysterers--benzin flames--more harlots--and here +and there one lost in thought even as he. + +An evil odour, as of singed horses' hoofs, floated over the city..... +The dust whirled under the street-cleaning machines. + +The world grew silent. He was left almost alone..... + +Then the life of the awakening day began to stir. A sleepy dawn crept +over the roofs.... + +It was the next morning. + +There would be no "next mornings" for him. That was over. + +Let others send Indian lilies! + + + + + +THE PURPOSE + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was a blazing afternoon, late in July. The Cheruskan fraternity +entered Ellerntal in celebration of their mid-summer festivity. They +had let the great wagon stand at the outskirts of the village and now +marched up its street in well-formed procession, proud and vain as a +company of _Schuetzen_ before whom all the world bows down once a year. + +First came the regimental band of the nearest garrison, dressed in +civilian's clothes--then, under the vigilance of two brightly attired +freshmen, the blue, white and golden banner of the fraternity, next +the officers accompanied by other freshmen, and finally the active +members in whom the dignity, decency and fighting strength of the +fraternity were embodied. A gay little crowd of elderly gentlemen, +ladies and guests followed in less rigid order. Last came, as always +and everywhere, the barefoot children of the village. The procession +came to a halt in front of the _Prussian Eagle_, a long-drawn single +story structure of frame. The newly added dance hall with its three +great windows protruded loftily above the house. + +The banner was lowered, the horns of the band gave wild, sharp signals +to which no one attended, and Pastor Rhode, a sedate man of fifty +dressed in the scarf and slashed cap of the order, stepped from the +inn door to pronounce the address of welcome. At this moment it +happened that one of the two banner bearers who had stood at the right +and left of the flag with naked foils, rigid as statues, slowly tilted +over forward and buried his face in the green sward. + +This event naturally put an immediate end to the ceremony. Everybody, +men and women, thronged around the fallen youth and were quickly +pushed back by the medical fraternity men who were present in various +stages of professional development. + +The medical wisdom of this many-headed council culminated in the cry: +"A glass of water!" + +Immediately a young girl--hot-eyed and loose-haired, exquisite in the +roundedness of half maturity--rushed out of the door and handed a +glass to the gentlemen who had turned the fainting lad on his +back and were loosening scarf and collar. + +He lay there, in the traditional garb of the fraternity, like a young +cavalry man of the time of the Great Elector--with his blue, +gold-braided doublet, close-fitting breeches of white leather and +mighty boots whose flapping tops swelled out over his firm thighs. He +couldn't be above eighteen or nineteen, long and broad though he was, +with his cheeks of milk and blood, that showed no sign of down, no +duelling scar. You would have thought him some mother's pet, had there +not been a sharp line of care that ran mournfully from the half-open +lips to the chin. + +The cold water did its duty. Sighing, the lad opened his eyes--two +pretty blue boy's eyes, long lashed and yet a little empty of +expression as though life had delayed giving them the harder glow +of maturity. + +These eyes fell upon the young girl who stood there, with hands +pressed to her heaving bosom, in an ecstatic desire to help. + +"Where can we carry him?" asked one of the physicians. + +"Into my room," she cried, "I'll show you the way." + +Eight strong hands took hold and two minutes later the boy lay on the +flowered cover of her bed. It was far too short for him, but it stood, +soft and comfortable, hidden by white mull curtains in a corner of +her simple room. + +He was summoned back to full consciousness, tapped, auscultated and +examined. Finally he confessed with a good deal of hesitation that his +right foot hurt him a bit--that was all. + +"Are the boots your own, freshie?" asked one of the physicians. + +He blushed, turned his gaze to the wall and shook his head. + +Everyone smiled. + +"Well, then, off with the wretched thing." + +But all exertion of virile strength was in vain. The boot did not +budge. Only a low moan of suffering came from the patient. + +"There's nothing to be done," said one, "little miss, let's have a +bread-knife." + +Anxious and with half-folded hands she had stood behind the doctors. +Now she rushed off and brought the desired implement. + +"But you're not going to hurt him?" she asked with big, beseeching +eyes. + +"No, no, we're only going to cut his leg off," jested one of the +by-standers and took the knife from her clinging fingers. + +Two incisions, two rents along the shin--the leather parted. A steady +surgeon's hand guided the knife carefully over the instep. At last the + flesh appeared--bloody, steel-blue and badly swollen. + +"Freshie, you idiot, you might have killed yourself," said the surgeon +and gave the patient a paternal nudge. "And now, little miss, +hurry--sugar of lead bandages till evening." + + + + +Chapter II. + + +Her name was Antonie. She was the inn-keeper Wiesner's only daughter +and managed the household and kitchen because her mother had died in +the previous year. + +His name was Robert Messerschmidt. He was a physician's son and a +student of medicine. He hoped to fight his way into full fraternity +membership by the beginning of the next semester. This last detail +was, at present, the most important of his life and had been confided +to her at the very beginning of their acquaintanceship. + +Youth is in a hurry. At four o'clock their hands were intertwined. At +five o'clock their lips found each other. From six on the bandages +were changed more rarely. Instead they exchanged vows of eternal +fidelity. At eight a solemn betrothal took place. And when, at ten +o'clock, swaying slightly and mellow of mood, the physicians +reappeared in order to put the patient to bed properly, their +wedding-day had been definitely set for the fifth anniversary of that +day. Next morning the procession went on to celebrate in some other +picturesque locality the festival of the breakfast of "the +morning after." + +Toni had run up on the hill which ascended, behind her father's house, +toward the high plateau of the river-bank. With dry but burning eyes +she looked after the wagons which gradually vanished in the silvery +sand of the road and one of which carried away into the distance her +life's whole happiness. + +To be sure, she had fallen in love with everyone whom she had met. +This habit dated from her twelfth, nay, from her tenth year. But this +time it was different, oh, so different. This time it was like an +axe-blow from which one doesn't arise. Or like the fell +disease--consumption--which had dragged her mother to the grave. + +She herself was more like her father, thick-set and sturdy. + +She had also inherited his calculating and planning nature. With tough +tenacity he could sacrifice years of earning and saving and planning +to acquire farms and meadows and orchards. Thus the girl could +meditate and plan her fate which, until yesterday, had been fluid as +water but which to-day lay definitely anchored in the soul of a +stranger lad. + +Her education had been narrow. She knew the little that an old +governess and a comfortable pastor could teach. But she read +whatever she could get hold of--from the tattered "pony" to Homer +which a boy friend had loaned her, to the most horrible +penny-dreadfuls which were her father's delight in his rare hours +of leisure. + +And she assimilated what she read and adapted it to her own fate. Thus +her imagination was familiar with happiness, with delusion, +with crime.... + +She knew that she was beautiful. If the humility of her play-fellows +had not assured her of this fact, she would have been enlightened by +the long glances and jesting admiration of her father's guests. + +Her father was strict. He interfered with ferocity if a traveller +jested with her too intimately. Nevertheless he liked to have her come +into the inn proper and slip, smiling and curtsying, past the +wealthier guests. It was not unprofitable. + +Upon his short, fleshy bow-legs, with his suspiciously calculating +blink, with his avarice and his sharp tongue, he stood between her and +the world, permitting only so much of it to approach her as seemed, at +a given moment, harmless and useful. + +His attitude was fatal to any free communication with her beloved. He +opened and read every letter that she had ever received. Had she +ventured to call for one at the post-office, the information would +have reached him that very day. + +The problem was how to deceive him without placing herself at the +mercy of some friend. + +She sat down in the arbour from which, past the trees of the orchard +and the neighbouring river, one had a view of the Russian forests, and +put the problem to her seventeen-year old brain. And while the summer +wind played with the green fruit on the boughs and the white herons +spread their gleaming wings over the river, she thought out a +plan--the first of many by which she meant to rivet her beloved +for life. + +On the same afternoon she asked her father's permission to invite the +daughter of the county-physician to visit her. + +"Didn't know you were such great friends," he said, surprised. + +"Oh, but we are," she pretended to be a little hurt. "We were received +into the Church at the same time." + +With lightning-like rapidity he computed the advantages that might +result from such a visit. The county-seat was four miles distant and +if the societies of veterans and marksmen in whose committees the +doctor was influential could be persuaded to come hither for their +outings.... The girl was cordially invited and arrived a week later. +She was surprised and touched to find so faithful a friend in Toni +who, when they were both boarding with Pastor Rhode, had played her +many a sly trick. + +Two months later the girl, in her turn, invited Toni to the city +whither she had never before been permitted to go alone and so the +latter managed to receive her lover's first letter. + +What he wrote was discouraging enough. His father was ill, hence the +excellent practice was gliding into other hands and the means for his +own studies were growing narrow. If things went on so he might have to +give up his university course and take to anything to keep his mother +and sister from want. + +This prospect did not please Toni. She was so proud of him. She could +not bear to have him descend in the social scale for the sake of bread +and butter. She thought and thought how she could help him with money, +but nothing occurred to her. She had to be content with encouraging +him and assuring him that her love would find ways and means for +helping him out of his difficulties. + +She wrote her letters at night and jumped out of the window in order +to drop them secretly into the pillar box. It was months before she +could secure an answer. His father was better, but life in the +fraternity was very expensive, and it was a very grave question +whether he had not better resign the scarf which he had just gained +and study on as a mere "barb." + +In Toni's imagination the picture of her beloved was brilliantly +illuminated by the glory of the tricoloured fraternity scarf, his +desire for it had become so ardently her own, that she could not bear +the thought of him--his yearning satisfied--returning to the gray +commonplace garb of Philistia. And so she wrote him. + +Spring came and Toni matured to statelier maidenhood. The plump girl, +half-child, droll and naive, grew to be a thoughtful, silent young +woman, secretive and very sure of her aims. She condescended to the +guests and took no notice of the desperate admiration which surrounded +her. Her glowing eyes looked into emptiness, her infinitely tempting +mouth smiled carelessly at friends and strangers. + +In May Robert's father died. + +She read it in one of the papers that were taken at the inn, and +immediately it became clear to her that her whole future was at stake. +For if he was crushed now by the load of family cares, if hope were +taken from him, no thought of her or her love would be left. Only if +she could redeem her promises and help him practically could she hope +to keep him. In the farthest corner of a rarely opened drawer lay +her mother's jewels which were some day to be hers--brooches and +rings, a golden chain, and a comb set with rubies which had found its +way--heaven knows how--into the simple inn. + +Without taking thought she stole the whole and sent it as +merchandise--not daring to risk the evidence of registration--to help +him in his studies. The few hundred marks that the jewellery would +bring would surely keep him until the end of the semester ... but +what then? ... + +And again she thought and planned all through the long, hot nights. + +Pastor Rhode's eldest son, a frail, tall junior who followed her, full +of timid passion, came home from college for the spring vacation. In +the dusk he crept around the inn as had been his wont for years. + +This time he had not long to wait. + +How did things go at college? Badly. Would he enter the senior class +at Michaelmas? Hardly. Then she would have to be ashamed of him, and +that would be a pity: she liked him too well. + +The slim lad writhed under this exquisite torture. It wasn't his +fault. He had pains in his chest, and growing pains. And all that. + +She unfolded her plan. + +"You ought to have a tutor during the long vacation, Emil, to help you +work." + +"Papa can do that." + +"Oh, Papa is busy. You ought to have a tutor all to yourself, a +student or something like that. If you're really fond of me ask your +Papa to engage one. Perhaps he'll get a young man from his own +fraternity with whom he can chat in the evening. You will ask, won't +you? I don't like people who are conditioned in their studies." + +That same night a letter was sent to her beloved. + +"Watch the frat. bulletin! Our pastor is going to look for a tutor for +his boy. See to it that you get the position. I'm longing to see +you." + + + + +Chapter III + + +Once more it was late July--exactly a year after those memorable +events--and he sat in the stage-coach and took off his crape-hung cap +to her. His face was torn by fresh scars and diagonally across his +breast the blue white golden scarf was to be seen. + +She grasped the posts of the fence with both hands and felt that she +would die if she could not have him. + +Upon that evening she left the house no more, although for two hours +he walked the dusty village street, with Emil, but also alone. But on +the next evening she stood behind the fence. Their hands found each +other across the obstacle. + +"Do you sleep on the ground-floor?" she asked whispering. + +"Yes." + +"Does the dog still bark when he sees you." + +"I don't know, I'm afraid so." + +"When you've made friends with him so that he won't bark when you get +out of the window, then come to the arbour behind our orchard. I'll +wait for you every night at twelve. But don't mind that. Don't come +till you're sure of the dog." + +For three long nights she sat on the wooden bench of the arbour until +the coming of dawn and stared into the bluish dusk that hid the +village as in a cloak. From time to time the dogs bayed. She could +distinguish the bay of the pastor's collie. She knew his hoarse voice. +Perhaps he was barring her beloved's way.... + +At last, during the fourth night, when his coming was scarcely to be +hoped for, uncertain steps dragged up the hill. + +She did not run to meet him. She crouched in the darkest corner of the +arbour and tasted, intensely blissful, the moments during which he +felt his way through the foliage. + +Then she clung to his neck, to his lips, demanding and according +all--rapt to the very peaks of life.... + +They were together nightly. Few words passed between them. She +scarcely knew how he looked. For not even a beam of the moon could +penetrate the broad-leaved foliage, and at the peep of dawn they +separated. She might have lain in the arms of a stranger and not known +the difference. + +And not only during their nightly meetings, but even by day they slipt +through life-like shadows. One day the pastor came to the inn for a +glass of beer and chatted with other gentlemen. She heard him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with that young fellow," he said. "He +does his duty and my boy is making progress. But he's like a stranger +from another world. He sits at the table and scarcely sees us. He +talks and you have the feeling that he doesn't know what he's talking +about. Either he's anaemic or he writes poetry." + +She herself saw the world through a blue veil, heard the voices of +life across an immeasurable distance and felt hot, alien shivers run +through her enervated limbs. + +The early Autumn approached and with it the day of his departure. At +last she thought of discussing the future with him which, until then, +like all else on earth, had sunk out of sight. + +His mother, he told her, meant to move to Koenigsberg and earn her +living by keeping boarders. Thus there was at least a possibility of +his continuing his studies. But he didn't believe that he would be +able to finish. His present means would soon be exhausted and he had +no idea where others would come from. + +All that he told her in the annoyed and almost tortured tones of one +long weary of hope who only staggers on in fear of more vital +degradation. + +With flaming words she urged him to be of good courage. She insisted +upon such resources as--however frugal--were, after all, at hand, and +calculated every penny. She shrugged her shoulders at his gratitude +for that first act of helpfulness. If only there were something else +to be taken. But whence and how? Her suspicious father would have +observed any shortage in his till at once and would have had the thief +discovered. + +The great thing was to gain time. Upon her advice he was to leave +Koenigsberg with its expensive fraternity life and pass the winter in +Berlin. The rest had to be left to luck and cunning. + +In a chill, foggy September night they said farewell. Shivering they +held each other close. Their hearts were full of the confused hopes +which they themselves had kindled, not because there was any ground +for hope, but because without it one cannot live. + +And a few weeks later everything came to an end. + +For Toni knew of a surety that she would be a mother.... + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Into the river! + +For that her father would put her in the street was clear. It was +equally clear what would become of her in that case.... + +But no, not into the river! Why was her young head so practised in +skill and cunning, if it was to bow helplessly under the first severe +onslaught of fate? What was the purpose of those beautiful long nights +but to brood upon plans and send far thoughts out toward shining aims? + +No, she would not run into the river. That dear wedding-day in five, +nay, in four years, was lost anyhow. But the long time could be +utilised so cleverly that her beloved could be dragged across the +abyss of his fate. + +First, then, she must have a father for her child. He must not be +clever. He must not be strong of will. Nor young, for youth makes +demands. ... Nor well off, for he who is certain of himself desires +freedom of choice. + +Her choice fell upon a former inn-keeper, a down-hearted man of about +fifty, moist of eye, faded, with greasy black hair.... He had failed +in business some years before and now sat around in the inn, looking +for a job.... + +To this her father did not object. For that man's condition was an +excellent foil to his own success and prosperity and thus he was +permitted, at times, to stay a week in the house where, otherwise, +charity was scarcely at home. + +Her plan worked well. On the first day she lured him silently on. On +the second he responded. On the third she turned sharply and rebuked +him. On the fourth she forgave him. On the fifth she met him in +secret. On the sixth he went on a journey, conscience smitten for +having seduced her.... + +That very night--for there was no time to be lost--she confessed with +trembling and blushing to her father that she was overcome by an +unconquerable passion for Herr Weigand. As was to be expected she was +driven from the door with shame and fury. + +During the following weeks she went about bathed in tears. Her father +avoided her. Then, when the right moment seemed to have come, she made +a second and far more difficult confession. This time her tremours and +her blushes were real, her tears were genuine for her father used a +horse-whip.... But when, that night, Toni sat on the edge of her bed +and bathed the bloody welts on her body, she knew that her plan +would succeed. + +And, to be sure, two days later Herr Weigand returned--a little more +faded, a little more hesitant, but altogether, by no means unhappy. He +was invited into her father's office for a long discussion. The result +was that the two lovers fell into each others' arms while her father, +trembling with impotent rage, hurled at them the fragments of a +crushed cigar. + +The banns were proclaimed immediately after the betrothal, and a +month later Herr Weigand, in his capacity of son-in-law, could take +possession of the same garret which he had inhabited as an impecunious +guest. This arrangement, however, was not a permanent one. An inn was +to be rented for the young couple--with her father's money. + +Toni, full of zeal and energy, took part in every new undertaking, +travelled hither and thither, considered prospects and dangers, but +always withdrew again at the last moment in order to await a fairer +opportunity. + +But she was utterly set upon the immediate furnishing of the new home. +She went to Koenigsberg and had long sessions with furniture dealers +and tradesmen of all kinds. On account of her delicate condition she +insisted that she could only travel on the upholstered seats of the +second class. She charged her father accordingly and in reality +travelled fourth class and sat for hours between market-women and +Polish Jews in order to save a few marks. In the accounts she rendered +heavy meals were itemized, strengthening wines, stimulating cordials. +As a matter of fact, she lived on dried slices of bread which, before +leaving home, she hid in her trunk. + +She did not disdain the saving of a tram car fare, although the +rebates which she got on the furniture ran into the hundreds. + +All that she sent jubilantly to her lover in Berlin, assured that he +was provided for some months. + +Thus the great misfortune had finally resulted in a blessing. For, +without these unhoped for resources, he must have long fallen by +the way-side. + +Months passed. Her furnishings stood in a storage warehouse, but the +house in which they were to live was not yet found. + +When she felt that her hour had come--her father and husband thought +it far off--she redoubled the energy of her travels, seeking, +preferably, rough and ribbed roads which other women in her condition +were wont to shun. + +And thus, one day, in a springless vehicle, two miles distant from the +county-seat, the pains of labour came upon her. She steeled every +nerve and had herself carried to the house of the county-physician +whose daughter was now tenderly attached to her. + +There she gave birth to a girl child which announced its equivocal +arrival in this world lustily. + +The old doctor, into whose house this confusion had suddenly come, +stood by her bed-side, smiling good-naturedly. She grasped him with +both hands, terror in her eyes and in her voice. + +"Dear, dear doctor! The baby was born too soon, wasn't it?" + +The doctor drew back and regarded her long and earnestly. Then his +smile returned and his kind hand touched her hair. + +"Yes, it is as you say. The baby's nails are not fully developed and +its weight is slightly below normal. It's all on account of your +careless rushing about. Surely the child came too soon." + +And he gave her the proper certification of the fact which protected +her from those few people who might consider themselves partakers of +her secret. For the opinion of people in general she cared little. So +strong had she grown through guilt and silence. + +And she was a child of nineteen! ... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When Toni had arisen from her bed of pain she found the place which +she and her husband had been seeking for months with surprising +rapidity. The "Hotel Germania," the most reputable hotel in the +county-seat itself was for rent. Its owner had recently died. It was +palatial compared to her father's inn. There were fifteen rooms for +guests, a tap-room, a wine-room, a grocery-shop and a livery-stable. + +Weigand, intimidated by misfortune, had never even hoped to aspire to +such heights of splendour. Even now he could only grasp the measure of +his happiness by calculating enormous profits. And he did this with +peculiar delight. For, since the business was to be run in the name of +Toni's father, his own creditors could not touch him. + +When they had moved in and the business began to be straightened out, +Weigand proved himself in flat contradiction of his slack and careless +character, a tough and circumspect man of business. He knew the +whereabouts of every penny and was not inclined to permit his wife to +make random inroads upon his takings. + +Toni, who had expected to be undisputed mistress of the safe saw +herself cheated of her dearest hopes, for the time approached when the +savings made on the purchase of her furniture must necessarily be +exhausted. + +And again she planned and wrestled through the long, warm nights while +her husband, whose inevitable proximity she bore calmly, snored with +the heaviness of many professional "treats." + +One day she said to him: "A few pennies must be put by for Amanda." +That was the name of the little girl who flourished merrily in her +cradle. "You must assign some little profits to me." + +"What can I do?" he asked. "For the present everything belongs to the +old man." + +"I know what I'd like," she went on, smiling dreamily, "I'd like to +have all the profits on the sale of champagne." + +He laughed heartily. There wasn't much call for champagne in the +little county-seat. At most a few bottles were sold on the emperor's +birthday or when, once in a long while, a flush commercial traveller +wanted to regale a recalcitrant customer. + +And so Weigand fell in with what he thought a mere mood and assented. + +Toni at once made a trip to Koenigsberg and bought all kinds of +phantastic decorations--Chinese lanterns, gilt fans, artificial +flowers, gay vases and manicoloured lamp-shades. With all these things +she adorned the little room that lay behind the room in which the most +distinguished townspeople were wont to drink their beer. And so the +place with veiled light and crimson glow looked more like a mysterious +oriental shrine than the sitting-room of an honest Prussian +inn-keeper's wife. + +She sat evening after evening in this phantastic room. She brought her +knitting and awaited the things that were to come. + +The gentlemen who drank in the adjoining room, the judges, physicians, +planters--all the bigwigs of a small town, in short--soon noticed the +magical light that glimmered through the half-open door whenever +Weigand was obliged to pass from the public rooms into his private +dwelling. And the men grew to be curious, the more so as the +inn-keeper's young wife, of whose charms many rumours were afloat, had +never yet been seen by any. + +One evening, when the company was in an especially hilarious mood, the +men demanded stormily to see the mysterious room. + +Weigand hesitated. He would have to ask his wife's permission. He +returned with the friendly message that the gentlemen were welcome. +Hesitant, almost timid, they entered as if crossing the threshold of +some house of mystery. + +There stood--transfigured by the glow of coloured lamps--the shapely +young woman with the alluring glow in her eyes, and her lips that were +in the form of a heart. She gave each a secretly quivering hand and +spoke a few soft words that seemed to distinguish him from the others. +Then, still timid and modest, she asked them to be seated and begged +for permission to serve a glass of champagne in honour of +the occasion. + +It is not recorded who ordered the second bottle. It may have been the +very fat Herr von Loffka, or the permanently hilarious judge. At all +events the short visit of the gentlemen came to an end at three +o'clock in the morning with wild intoxication and a sale of eighteen +bottles of champagne, of which half bore French labels. + +Toni resisted all requests for a second invitation to her sanctum. She +first insisted on the solemn assurance that the gentlemen would +respect her presence and bring neither herself nor her house into +ill-repute. At last came the imperial county-counsellor himself--a +wealthy bachelor of fifty with the manners of an injured lady killer. +He came to beg for himself and the others and she dared not refuse +any longer. + +The champagne festivals continued. With this difference: that Toni, +whenever the atmosphere reached a certain point of heated +intoxication, modestly withdrew to her bed-room. Thus she succeeded not +only in holding herself spotless but in being praised for her +retiring nature. + +But she kindled a fire in the heads of these dissatisfied University +men who deemed themselves banished into a land of starvation, and in +the senses of the planters' sons. And this fire burned on and created +about her an atmosphere of madly fevered desire.... + +Finally it became the highest mark of distinction in the little town, +the sign of real connoisseurship in life, to have drunk a bottle of +champagne with "Germania," as they called her, although she bore +greater resemblance to some swarthier lady of Rome. Whoever was not +admitted to her circle cursed his lowliness and his futile life. + +Of course, in spite of all precautions, it could not but be that her +reputation suffered. The daughter of the county-physician began to +avoid her, the wives of social equals followed suit. But no one dared +accuse her of improper relations with any of her adorers. It was even +known that the county-counsellor, desperate over her stern refusals, +was urging her to get a divorce from her husband and marry him. No one +suspected, of course, that she had herself spread this rumour in order +to render pointless the possible leaking out of improprieties.... + +Nor did any one dream that a bank in Koenigsberg transmitted, in her +name, monthly cheques to Berlin that sufficed amply to help an +ambitious medical student to continue his work. + +The news which she received from her beloved was scanty. + +In order to remain in communication with him she had thought out a +subtle method. + +The house of every tradesman or business man in the provinces is +flooded with printed advertisements from Berlin which pour out over +the small towns and the open country. Of this printed matter, which is +usually thrown aside unnoticed, Toni gathered the most voluminous +examples, carefully preserved the envelopes, and sent them to Robert. +Her husband did not notice of course that the same advertising matter +came a second time nor that faint, scarce legible pencil marks picked +out words here and there which, when read consecutively, made complete +sense and differed very radically from the message which the printed +slips were meant to convey.... + +Years passed. A few ship-wrecked lives marked Toni's path, a few +female slanders against her were avenged by the courts. Otherwise +nothing of import took place. + +And in her heart burned with never-lessening glow the one great +emotion which always supplied fuel to her will, which lent every +action a pregnant significance and furnished absolution for +every crime. + +In the meantime Amanda grew to be a blue-eyed, charming child--gentle +and caressing and the image of the man of whose love she was the +impassioned gift. + +But Fate, which seems to play its gigantic pranks upon men in the act +of punishing them, brought it to pass that the child seemed also to +bear some slight resemblance to the stranger who, bowed and servile, +stupidly industrious, sucking cigars, was to be seen at her +mother's side. + +Never was father more utterly devoted to the fruit of his loins than +this gulled fellow to the strange child to whom the mother did not +even--by kindly inactivity--give him a borrowed right. The more +carefully she sought to separate the child from him, the more +adoringly and tenaciously did he cling to it. + +With terror and rage Toni was obliged to admit to herself that no sum +would ever suffice to make Weigand agree to a divorce that separated +him definitely from the child. And dreams and visions, transplanted +into her brain from evil books, filled Toni's nights with the glitter +of daggers and the stain of flowing blood. And fate seemed to urge on +the day when these dreams must take on flesh.... + +One day she found in the waste-paper basket which she searched +carefully after every mail-delivery, an advertisement which commended +to the buying public a new make of type-writer. + +"Many public institutions," thus the advertisement ran, "use our well +tried machines in their offices, because these machines will bear the +most rigid examination. Their reputation has crossed the ocean. The +Chilean ministry has just ordered a dozen of our 'Excelsiors' by +cable. Thus successfully does our invention spread over the world. And +yet its victorious progress is by no means completed. Even in Japan--" +and so on. + +If one looked at this stuff very carefully, one could observe that +certain words were lightly marked in pencil. And if one read these +words consecutively, the following sentence resulted: + +"Public--examination--just--successfully--completed." + +From this day on the room with the veiled lamps remained closed to her +eager friends. From this day on the generous county-counsellor saw +that his hopes were dead.... + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +How was the man to be disposed of? + +An open demand for divorce would have been stupid, for it would have +thrown a very vivid suspicion upon any later and more drastic attempt. + +Weigand's walk and conversation were blameless. Her one hope consisted +in catching him in some chance infidelity. The desire for change, she +reasoned, the allurement of forbidden fruit, must inflame even this +wooden creature. + +She had never, hitherto, paid the slightest attention to the problem +of waitresses. Now she travelled to Koenigsberg and hired the +handsomest women to be found in the employment bureaus. They came, one +after another, a feline Polish girl, a smiling, radiantly blond child +of Sweden--a Venus, a Germania--this time a genuine one. Next came a +pretended Circassian princess. And they all wandered off again, and +Weigand had no glance for them but that of the master. + +Antonie was discouraged and dropped her plan. + +What now? + +She had recoiled from no baseness. She had sacrificed to her love +honour, self-respect, truth, righteousness and pride. But she had +avoided hitherto the possibility of a conflict with the law. +Occasional small thefts in the house did not count. + +But the day had come when crime itself, crime that threatened remorse +and the sword of judgment, entered her life. For otherwise she could +not get rid of her husband. + +The regions that lie about the eastern boundary of the empire are +haunted by Jewish peddlers who carry in their sacks Russian drops, +candied fruits, gay ribands, toys made of bark, and other pleasant +things which make them welcome to young people. But they also supply +sterner needs. In the bottom of their sacks are hidden love philtres +and strange electuaries. And if you press them very determinedly, you +will find some among them who have the little white powders that can +be poured into beer ... or the small, round discs which the common +folk call "crow's eyes" and which the greedy apothecaries will not +sell you merely for the reason that they prepare the costlier +strychnine from them. + +You will often see these beneficent men in the twilight in secret +colloquy with female figures by garden-gates and the edges of woods. +The female figures slip away if you happen to appear on the road.... +Often, too, these men are asked into the house and intimate council is +held with them--especially when husband and servants are busy in the +fields.... + +One evening in the beginning of May, Toni brought home with her from a +harmless walk a little box of arsenic and a couple of small, hard +discs that rattled merrily in one's pocket.... Cold sweat ran down her +throat and her legs trembled so that she had to sit down on a case of +soap before entering the house. + +Her husband asked her what was wrong. + +"Ah, it's the spring," she answered and laughed. + +Soon her adorers noticed, and not these only, that her loveliness +increased from day to day. Her eyes which, under their depressed +brows, had assumed a sharp and peering gaze, once more glowed with +their primal fire, and a warm rosiness suffused her cheeks that spread +marvelously to her forehead and throat. + +Her appearance made so striking an impression that many a one who had +not seen her for a space stared at her and asked, full of admiration: +"What have you done to yourself?" + +"It is the spring," she answered and laughed. + +As a matter of fact she had taken to eating arsenic. + +She had been told that any one who becomes accustomed to the use of +this poison can increase the doses to such an extent that he can take +without harm a quantity that will necessarily kill another. And she +had made up her mind to partake of the soup which she meant, some day, +to prepare for her husband. That much she held to be due a faultless +claim of innocence. + +But she was unfortunate enough to make a grievous mistake one day, and +lay writhing on the floor in uncontrollable agony. + +The old physician at once recognized the symptoms of arsenic +poisoning, prescribed the necessary antidotes and carefully dragged +her back into life. The quantity she had taken, he declared, shaking +his head, was enough to slay a strong man. He transmitted the +information of the incident as demanded by law. + +Detectives and court-messengers visited the house. The entire building +was searched, documents had to be signed and all reports were +carefully followed up. + +The dear romantic public refused to be robbed of its opinion that one +of Toni's rejected admirers had thus sought to avenge himself. The +suspicion of the authorities, however, fastened itself upon a +waitress, a plump, red-haired wanton who had taken the place of the +imported beauties and whose insolent ugliness the men of the town, +relieved of nobler delights, enjoyed thoroughly. The insight of the +investigating judge had found in the girl's serving in the house and +her apparent intimacy with its master a scent which he would by no +means abandon. Only, because a few confirmatory details were still to +seek, the suspicion was hidden not only from the public but even from +its object. + +Antonie, however, ailed continually. She grew thin, her digestion was +delicate. If the blow was to be struck--and many circumstances urged +it--she would no longer be able to share the poison with her victim. +But it seemed fairly certain that suspicion would very definitely fall +not upon her but upon the other woman. The latter would have to be +sacrificed, so much was clear. + +But that was the difficulty. The wounded conscience might recover, the +crime might be conquered into forgetfulness, if only that is slain +which burdens the earth, which should never have been. But Toni felt +that her soul could not drag itself to any bourne of peace if, for her +own advantage, she cast one who was innocent to lasting and +irremediable destruction. + +The simplest thing would have been to dismiss the woman. In that case, +however, it was possible that the courts would direct their +investigations to her admirers. One of them had spoken hasty and +careless words. He might not be able to clear himself, were the +accusation directed against him. + +There remained but one hope: to ascribe the unavertible death of her +husband to some accident, some heedlessness. And so she directed her +unwavering purpose to this end. + +The Polish peddler had slipped into Toni's hand not only the arsenic +but also the deadly little discs called "crow's eyes." These must help +her, if used with proper care and circumspection. + +One day while little Amanda was playing in the yard with other girls, +she found among the empty kerosene barrels a few delightful, silvery +discs, no larger then a ten pfennig piece. With great delight she +brought them to her mother who, attending to her knitting, had ceased +for a moment to watch the children. + +"What's that, Mama?" + +"I don't know, my darling." + +"May we play with them?" + +"What would you like to play?" + +"We want to throw them." + +"No, don't do that. But I'll make you a new doll-carriage and these +will be lovely wheels." + +The children assented and Amanda brought a pair of scissors in order +to make holes in the little wheels. But they were too hard and the +points of the blades slipped. + +"Ask father to use his small gimlet." + +Amanda ran to the open window behind which he for whom all this was +prepared was quietly making out his monthly bills. + +Toni's breath failed. If he recognised the poisonous fruits, it was +all over with her plan. But the risk was not to be avoided. + +He looked at the discs for a moment. And yet for another. No, he did +not know their nature but was rather pleased with them. It did not +even occur to him to warn the little girl to beware of the +unknown fruit. + +He called into the shop ordering an apprentice to bring him a +tool-case. The boy in his blue apron came and Toni observed that his +eyes rested upon the fruits for a perceptible interval. Thus there +was, in addition to the children, another witness and one who would be +admitted to oath. + +Weigand bored holes into four of the discs and threw them, jesting +kindly, into the children's apron. The others he kept. "He has +pronounced his own condemnation," Toni thought as with trembling +fingers she mended an old toy to fit the new wheels. + +Nothing remained but to grind the proper dose with cinnamon, to +sweeten it--according to instructions--and spice a rice-pudding +therewith. + +But fate which, in this delicate matter, had been hostile to her from +the beginning, ordained it otherwise. + +For that very evening came the apothecary, not, as a rule, a timid +person. He was pale and showed Weigand the fruits. He had, by the +merest hair-breadth, prevented his little girl Marie from nibbling +one of them. + +The rest followed as a matter of course. The new wheels were taken +from the doll-carriage, all fragments were carefully sought out and +all the discs were given to the apothecary who locked them into +his safe. + +"The red-headed girl must be sacrificed after all," Toni thought. + +She planned and schemed, but she could think of no way by which the +waitress could be saved from that destruction which hung over her. + +There was no room for further hesitation. The path had to be trodden +to its goal. Whether she left corpses on the way-side, whether she +herself broke down dead at the goal--it did not matter. That plan of +her life which rivetted her fate to her beloved's forever demanded +that she proceed. + +The old physician came hurrying to the inn next morning. He was +utterly confounded by the scarcely escaped horrors. + +"You really look," he said to Toni, "as if you had swallowed some of +the stuff, too." + +"Oh, I suppose my fate will overtake me in the end," she answered with +a weary smile. "I feel it in my bones: there will be some misfortune +in our house." + +"For heaven's sake!" he cried, "Put that red-headed beast into the +street." + +"It isn't she! I'll take my oath on that," she said eagerly and +thought that she had done a wonderfully clever thing. + +She waited in suspense, fearing that the authorities would take a +closer look at this last incident. She was equipped for any +search--even one that might penetrate to her own bed-room. For she had +put false bottoms into the little medicine-boxes. Beneath these she +kept the arsenic. On top lay harmless magnesia. The boxes themselves +stood on her toilet-table, exposed to all eyes and hence withdrawn +from all suspicion. + +She waited till evening, but nobody came. And yet the connection +between this incident and the former one seemed easy enough to +establish. However that might be, she assigned the final deed to the +very next day. And why wait? An end had to be made of this torture of +hesitation which, at every new scruple, seemed to freeze her very +heart's blood. Furthermore the finding of the "crow's eyes" would be +of use in leading justice astray. + +To-morrow, then ... to-morrow.... + +Weigand had gone to bed early. But Toni sat behind the door of the +public room and, through a slit of the door, listened to every +movement of the waitress. She had kept near her all evening. She +scarcely knew why. But a strange, dull hope would not die in her--a +hope that something might happen whereby her unsuspecting victim and +herself might both be saved. + +The clock struck one. The public rooms were all but empty. Only a few +young clerks remained. These were half-drunk and made rough advances +to the waitress. + +She resisted half-serious, half-jesting. + +"You go out and cool yourselves in the night-air. I don't care about +such fellows as you." + +"I suppose you want only counts and barons," one of them taunted her. +"I suppose you wouldn't even think the county-counsellor good enough!" + +"That's my affair," she answered, "as to who is good enough for me. I +have my choice. I can get any man I want." + +They laughed at her and she flew into a rage. + +"If you weren't such a beggarly crew and had anything to bet, I'd +wager you any money that I'd seduce any man I want in a week. In a +week, do I say? In three days! Just name the man." + +Antonie quivered sharply and then sank with closed eyes, against the +back of her chair. A dream of infinite bliss stole through her being. +Was there salvation for her in this world? Could this coarse creature +accomplish that in which beauty and refinement had failed? + +Could she be saved from becoming a murderess? Would it be granted her +to remain human, with a human soul and a human face? + +But this was no time for tears or weakening. + +With iron energy she summoned all her strength and quietude and +wisdom. The moment was a decisive one. + +When the last guests had gone and all servants, too, had gone to their +rest, she called the waitress, with some jesting reproach, into +her room. + +A long whispered conversation followed. At its end the woman declared +that the matter was child's play to her. + +And did not suspect that by this game she was saving her life. + + + + +Chapter VII. + + +In hesitant incredulity Antonie awaited the things that were to come. + +On the first day a staggering thing happened. The red-headed woman, +scolding at the top of her voice, threw down a beer-glass at her +master's feet, upon which he immediately gave her notice. + +Toni's newly-awakened hope sank. The woman had boasted. And what was +worse than all: if the final deed could be accomplished, her compact +with the waitress would damn her. The woman would of course use this +weapon ruthlessly. The affair had never stood so badly. + +But that evening she breathed again. For Weigand declared that the +waitress seemed to have her good qualities too and her heart-felt +prayers had persuaded him to keep her. + +For several days nothing of significance took place except that +Weigand, whenever he mentioned the waitress, peered curiously aside. +And this fact Toni interpreted in a favorable light. + +Almost a week passed. Then, one day, the waitress approached Toni at +an unwonted hour. + +"If you'll just peep into my room this afternoon...." + +Toni followed directions.... The poor substitute crept down the +stairs--caught and powerless. He followed his wife who knelt sobbing +beside their bed. She was not to be comforted, nor to be moved. She +repulsed him and wept and wept. + +Weigand had never dreamed that he was so passionately loved. The more +violent was the anger of the deceived wife.... She demanded divorce, +instant divorce.... + +He begged and besought and adjured. In vain. + +Next he enlisted the sympathy of his father-in-law who had taken no +great interest in the business during these years, but was content if +the money he had invested in it paid the necessary six per +cent. promptly. + +The old man came immediately and made a scene with his recalcitrant +daughter.... There was the splendid business and the heavy investment! +She was not to think that he would give her one extra penny. He would +simply withdraw his capital and let her and the child starve. + +Toni did not even deign to reply. + +The suit progressed rapidly. The unequivocal testimony of the waitress +rendered any protest nugatory. + +Three months later Toni put her possessions on a train, took her +child, whom the deserted father followed with an inarticulate moan, +and travelled to Koenigsberg where she rented a small flat in order to +await in quiet the reunion with her beloved. + +The latter was trying to work up a practice in a village close to the +Russian border. He wrote that things were going slowly and that, +hence, he must be at his post night and day. So soon as he had the +slightest financial certainty for his wife and child, he would +come for them. + +And so she awaited the coming of her life's happiness. She had little +to do, and passed many happy hours in imagining how he would rush +in--by yonder passage--through this very door--tall and slender and +impassioned and press her to his wildly throbbing heart. And ever +again, though she knew it to be a foolish dream, did she see the blue +white golden scarf upon his chest and the blue and gold cap upon his +blond curls. + +Lonely widows--even those of the divorced variety--find friends and +ready sympathy in the land of good hearts. But Antonie avoided +everyone who sought her society. Under the ban of her great secret +purpose she had ceased to regard men and women except as they could be +turned into the instruments of her will. And her use for them was +over. As for their merely human character and experience--Toni saw +through these at once. And it all seemed to her futile and trivial in +the fierce reflection of those infernal fires through which she had +had to pass. + +Adorned like a bride and waiting--thus she lived quietly and modestly +on the means which her divorced husband--in order to keep his own head +above water--managed to squeeze out of the business. + +Suddenly her father died. People said that his death was due to +unconquerable rage over her folly.... + +She buried him, bearing herself all the while with blameless filial +piety and then awoke to the fact that she was rich. + +She wrote to her beloved: "Don't worry another day. We are in a +position to choose the kind of life that pleases us." + +He wired back: "Expect me to-morrow." + +Full of delight and anxiety she ran to the mirror and discovered for +the thousandth time, that she was beautiful again. The results of +poisoning had disappeared, crime and degradation had burned no marks +into her face. She stood there--a ruler of life. Her whole being +seemed sure of itself, kindly, open. Only the wild glance might, at +times, betray the fact that there was much to conceal. + +She kept wakeful throughout the night, as she had done through many +another. Plan after plan passed through her busy brain. It was with an +effort that she realised the passing of such grim necessities. + + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +A bunch of crysanthemums stood on the table, asters in vases on +dresser and chiffonier--colourful and scentless. + +Antonie wore a dress of black lace that had been made by the best +dressmaker in the city for this occasion. In festive array she +desired to meet her beloved and yet not utterly discard the garb of +filial grief. But she had dressed the child in white, with white silk +stockings and sky-blue ribands. It was to meet its father like the +incarnate spirit of approaching happiness. + +From the kitchen came the odours of the choicest autumn dishes--roast +duck with apples and a grape-cake, such as she alone knew how to +prepare. Two bottles of precious Rhine wine stood in the cool without +the window. She did not want to welcome him with champagne. The +memories of its subtle prickling, and of much else connected +therewith, nauseated her. + +If he left his village at six in the morning he must arrive at noon. + +And she waited even as she had waited seven years. This morning seven +hours had been left, there were scarcely seven minutes now. And +then--the door-bell rang. + +"That is the new uncle," she said to Amanda who was handling her +finery, flattered and astonished, and she wondered to note her brain +grow suddenly so cool and clear. + +A gentleman entered. A strange gentleman. Wholly strange. Had she met +him on the street she would not have known him. + +He had grown old--forty, fifty, an hundred years. Yet his real age +could not be over twenty-eight! ... + +He had grown fat. He carried a little paunch about with him, round and +comfortable. And the honourable scars gleamed in round red cheeks. His +eyes seemed small and receding.... + +And when he said: "Here I am at last," it was no longer the old voice, +clear and a little resonant, which had echoed and re-echoed in her +spiritual ear. He gurgled as though he had swallowed dumplings. + +But when he took her hand and smiled, something slipt into his +face--something affectionate and quiet, empty and without guile or +suspicion. + +Where was she accustomed to this smile? To be sure; in Amanda. An +indubitable inheritance. + +And for the sake of this empty smile an affectionate feeling for this +stranger came into her heart. She helped him take off his overcoat. He +wore a pair of great, red-lined rubber goloshes, typical of the +country doctor. He took these off carefully and placed them with their +toes toward the wall. + +"He has grown too pedantic," she thought. + +Then all three entered the room. When Toni saw him in the light of day +she missed the blue white golden scarf at once. But it would have +looked comical over his rounded paunch. And yet its absence +disillusioned her. It seemed to her as if her friend had doffed the +halo for whose sake she had served him and looked up to him so long. + +As for him, he regarded her with unconcealed admiration. + +"Well, well, one can be proud of you!" he said, sighing deeply, and it +almost seemed as if with this sigh a long and heavy burden lifted +itself from his soul. + +"He was afraid he might have to be ashamed of me," she thought +rebelliously. As if to protect herself she pushed the little girl +between them. + +"Here is Amanda," she said, and added with a bitter smile: "Perhaps +you remember." + +But he didn't even suspect the nature of that which she wanted to make +him feel. + +"Oh, I've brought something for you, little one!" he cried with the +delight of one who recalls an important matter in time. With measured +step he trotted back into the hall and brought out a flat paste-board +box tied with pink ribands. He opened it very carefully and revealed a +layer of chocolate-creams wrapped in tin-foil and offered one +to Amanda. + +And this action seemed to him, obviously, to satisfy all requirements +in regard to his preliminary relations to the child. + +Antonie felt the approach of a head-ache such as she had now and then +ever since the arsenic poisoning. + +"You are probably hungry, dear Robert," she said. + +He wouldn't deny that. "If one is on one's legs from four o'clock in +the morning on, you know, and has nothing in one's stomach but a +couple of little sausages, you know!" + +He said all that with the same cheerfulness that seemed to come to him +as a matter of course and yet did not succeed in wholly hiding an +inner diffidence. + +They sat down at the table and Antonie, taking pleasure in seeing to +his comfort, forgot for a moment the foolish ache that tugged at her +body and at her soul. + +The wine made him talkative. He related everything that interested +him--his professional trips across country, the confinements that +sometimes came so close together that he had to spend twenty-four +hours in his buggy. Then he told of the tricks by which people whose +lives he had just saved sought to cheat him out of his modest fees. +And he told also of the comfortable card-parties with the judge and +the village priest. And how funny it was when the inn-keeper's tame +starling promenaded on the cards.... + +Every word told of cheerful well-being and unambitious contentment. + +"He doesn't think of our common future," a torturing suspicion +whispered to her. + +But he did. + +"I should like to have you try, first of all, Toni, to live there. It +isn't easy. But we can both stand a good deal, thank God, and if we +don't like it in the end, why, we can move away." + +And he said that so simply and sincerely that her suspicion vanished. + +And with this returning certitude there returned, too, the ambition +which she had always nurtured for him. + +"How would it be if we moved to Berlin, or somewhere where there is a +university?" + +"And maybe aim at a professorship?" he cried with cheerful irony. "No, +Tonichen, all your money can't persuade me to that. I crammed enough +in that damned medical school, I've got my income and that's good +enough for me." + +A feeling of disgust came over her. She seemed to perceive the stuffy +odour of unventilated rooms and of decaying water in which flowers +had stood. + +"That is what I suffered for," involuntarily the thought came, +"_that!_" + +After dinner when Amanda was sleeping off the effects of the little +sip of wine which she had taken when they let her clink glasses with +them, they sat opposite each other beside the geraniums of the +window-box and fell silent. He blew clouds of smoke from his cigar +into the air and seemed not disinclined to indulge in a nap, too. + +Leaning back in her wicker chair she observed him uninterruptedly. At +one moment it seemed to her as though she caught an intoxicating +remnant of the slim, pallid lad to whom she had given her love. And +then again came the corroding doubt: "Was it for him, for him...." And +then a great fear oppressed her heart, because this man seemed to live +in a world which she could not reach in a whole life's pilgrimage. +Walls had arisen between them, doors had been bolted--doors that rose +from the depths of the earth to the heights of heaven.... As he sat +there, surrounded by the blue smoke of his cigar, he seemed more and +more to recede into immeasurable distances.... + +Then, suddenly, as if an inspiration had come to him, he pulled +himself together, and his face became serious, almost solemn. He laid +the cigar down on the window-box and pulled out of his inner pocket a +bundle of yellow sheets of paper and blue note-books. + +"I should have done this a long time ago," he said, "because we've +been free to correspond with each other. But I put it off to our +first meeting." + +"Done what?" she asked, seized by an uncomfortable curiosity. + +"Why, render an accounting." + +"An accounting?" + +"But dear Toni, surely you don't think me either ungrateful or +dishonourable. For seven years I have accepted one benefaction after +another from you.... That was a very painful situation for me, dear +child, and I scarcely believe that the circumstances, had they been +known, would ever have been countenanced by a court of honour." + +"Ah, yes," she said slowly. "I confess I never thought of _that_ +consideration...." + +"But I did all the more, for that very reason. And only the +consciousness that I would some day be able to pay you the last penny +of my debt sustained me in my consciousness as a decent fellow." + +"Ah, well, if that's the case, go ahead!" she said, suppressing the +bitter sarcasm that she felt. + +First came the receipts: The proceeds of the stolen jewels began the +long series. Then followed the savings in fares, food and drink and +the furniture rebates. Next came the presents of the county-counsellor, +the profits of the champagne debauches during which she had flung +shame and honour under the feet of the drinking men. She was spared +nothing, but heard again of sums gained by petty thefts from +the till, small profits made in the buying of milk and eggs. It +was a long story of suspense and longing, an inextricable web of +falsification and trickery, of terror and lying without end. The +memory of no guilt and no torture was spared her. + +Then he took up the account of his expenditures. He sat there, eagerly +handling the papers, now frowning heavily when he could not at once +balance some small sum, now stiffening his double chin in satisfied +self-righteousness as he explained some new way of saving that had +occurred to him.... Again and again, to the point of weariness, he +reiterated solemnly: "You see, I'm an honest man." + +And always when he said that, a weary irony prompted her to reply: +"Ah, what that honesty has cost me." ... But she held her peace. + +And again she wanted to cry out: "Let be! A woman like myself doesn't +care for these two-penny decencies." But she saw how deep an inner +necessity it was to him to stand before her in this conventional +spotlessness. And so she didn't rob him of his childlike joy. + +At last he made an end and spread out the little blue books before +her--there was one for each year. "Here," he said proudly, "you can go +over it yourself. It's exact." + +"It had better be!" she cried with a jesting threat and put the little +books under a flower-pot. + +A prankish mood came upon her now which she couldn't resist. + +"Now that this important business is at an end," she said, "there is +still another matter about which I must have some certainty." + +"What is that?" he said, listening intensely. + +"Have you been faithful to me in all this time?" + +He became greatly confused. The scars on his left cheek glowed like +thick, red cords. + +"Perhaps he's got a betrothed somewhere," she thought with a kind of +woeful anger, "whom he's going to throw over now." + +But it wasn't that. Not at all. "Well," he said, "there's no help for +it. I'll confess. And anyhow, _you've_ even been married in the +meantime." + +"I would find it difficult to deny that," she said. + +And then everything came to light. During the early days in Berlin he +had been very intimate with a waitress. Then, when he was an assistant +in the surgical clinic, there had been a sister who even wanted to be +married. "But I made short work of that proposition," he explained +with quiet decision. And as for the Lithuanian servant girl whom he +had in the house now, why, of course he would dismiss her next +morning, so that the house could be thoroughly aired before she +moved in. + +This was the moment in which a desire came upon her--half-ironic, +half-compassionate--to throw her arms about him and say: "You +silly boy!" + +But she did not yield and in the next moment the impulse was gone. +Only an annoyed envy remained. He dared to confess everything to +her--everything. What if she did the same? If he were to leave her in +horrified silence, what would it matter? She would have freed her +soul. Or perhaps he would flare up in grateful love? It was madness to +expect it. No power of heaven or earth could burst open the doors or +demolish the walls that towered between them for all eternity. + +A vast irony engulfed her. She could not rest her soul upon this +pigmy. She felt revengeful rather toward him--revengeful, because he +could sit there opposite her so capable and faithful, so truthful and +decent, so utterly unlike the companion whom she needed. + +Toward twilight he grew restless. He wanted to slip over to his mother +for a moment and then, for another moment, he wanted to drop in at the +fraternity inn. He had to leave at eight. + +"It would be better if you remained until to-morrow," she said with an +emphasis that gave him pause. + +"Why?" + +"If you don't feel that...." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +It wasn't to be done, he assured her, with the best will in the world. +There was an investigation in which he had to help the county-physician. +A small farmer had died suddenly of what did not seem an entirely +natural death. "I suppose," he continued, "one of those love +philtres was used with which superfluous people are put under +ground there. It's horrible that a decent person has to live +among such creatures. If you don't care to do it, I can hardly blame +you." She had grown pale and smiled weakly. She restrained him +no longer. + +"I'll be back in a week," he said, slipping on his goloshes, "and then +we can announce the engagement." + +She nodded several times but made no reply. + +The door was opened and he leaned toward her. Calmly she touched his +lips with hers. + +"You might have the announcement cards printed," he called cheerfully +from the stairs. + +Then he disappeared.... + +"Is the new uncle gone?" Amanda asked. She was sitting in her little +room, busy with her lessons. He had forgotten her. + +The mother nodded. + +"Will he come back soon?" + +Antonie shook her head. + +"I scarcely think so," she answered. + +That night she broke the purpose of her life, the purpose that had +become interwoven with a thousand others, and when the morning came +she wrote a letter of farewell to the beloved of her youth. + + + + + +THE SONG OF DEATH + + +With faint and quivering beats the clock of the hotel announced the +hour to the promenaders on the beach. + +"It is time to eat, Nathaniel," said a slender, yet well-filled-out +young woman, who held a book between her fingers, to a formless +bundle, huddled in many shawls, by her side. Painfully the bundle +unfolded itself, stretched and grew gradually into the form of a +man--hollow chested, thin legged, narrow shouldered, attired in +flopping garments, such as one sees by the thousands on the coasts of +the Riviera in winter. + +The midday glow of the sun burned down upon the yellowish gray wall of +cliff into which the promenade of Nervi is hewn, and which slopes down +to the sea in a zigzag of towering bowlders. + +Upon the blue mirror of the sea sparkled a silvery meshwork of +sunbeams. So vast a fullness of light flooded the landscape that even +the black cypress trees which stood, straight and tall, beyond the +garden walls, seemed to glitter with a radiance of their own. The tide +was silent. Only the waters of the imprisoned springs that poured, +covered with iridescent bubbles, into the hollows between the rocks, +gurgled and sighed wearily. + +The breakfast bell brought a new pulsation of life to the huddled +figures on the beach. + +"He who eats is cured," is the motto of the weary creatures whose arms +are often too weak to carry their forks to their mouths. But he who +comes to this land of eternal summer merely to ease and rest his soul, +trembles with hunger in the devouring sweetness of the air and can +scarcely await the hour of food. + +With a gentle compulsion the young woman pushed the thin, wrinkled +hand of the invalid under her arm and led him carefully through a cool +and narrow road, which runs up to the town between high garden walls +and through which a treacherous draught blows even on the +sunniest days. + +"Are you sure your mouth is covered?" she asked, adapting her springy +gait with difficulty to the dragging steps of her companion. + +An inarticulate murmur behind the heavy shawl was his only answer. + +She stretched her throat a little--a round, white, firm throat, with +two little folds that lay rosy in the rounded flesh. Closing her eyes, +she inhaled passionately the aromatic perfumes of the neighbouring +gardens. It was a strange mixture of odours, like that which is wafted +from the herb chamber of an apothecary. A wandering sunbeam glided +over the firm, short curve of her cheek, which was of almost milky +whiteness, save for the faint redness of those veins which sleepless +nights bring out upon the pallid faces of full-blooded blondes. + +A laughing group of people went swiftly by--white-breeched Englishmen +and their ladies. The feather boas, whose ends fluttered in the wind, +curled tenderly about slender throats, and on the reddish heads bobbed +little round hats, smooth and shining as the tall head-gear of a +German postillion. + +The young woman cast a wistful glance after those happy folk, and +pressed more firmly the arm of her suffering husband. + +Other groups followed. It was not difficult to overtake this pair. + +"We'll be the last, Mary," Nathaniel murmured, with the invalid's +ready reproach. + +But the young woman did not hear. She listened to a soft chatting, +which, carried along between the sounding-boards of these high walls, +was clearly audible. The conversation was conducted in French, and she +had to summon her whole stock of knowledge in order not to lose the +full sense of what was said. "I hope, Madame, that your uncle is not +seriously ill?" + +"Not at all, sir. But he likes his comfort. And since walking bores +him, he prefers to pass his days in an armchair. And it's my function +to entertain him." An arch, pouting _voila_ closed the explanation. + +Next came a little pause. Then the male voice asked: + +"And are you never free, Madame?" + +"Almost never." + +"And may I never again hope for the happiness of meeting you on the +beach?" + +"But surely you may!" + +"_Mille remerciments; Madame_." + +A strangely soft restrained tone echoed in this simple word of thanks. +Secret desires murmured in it and unexpressed confessions. + +Mary, although she did not look as though she were experienced in +flirtation or advances, made a brief, timid gesture. Then, as though +discovered and ashamed, she remained very still. + +Those two then.... That's who it was.... + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +She was a delicately made and elegant Frenchwoman. Her bodice was cut +in a strangely slender way, which made her seem to glide along like a +bird. Or was it her walk that caused the phenomenon? Or the exquisite +arching of her shoulders? Who could tell? ... She did not take her +meals at the common table, but in a corner of the dining-hall in +company of an old gouty gentleman with white stubbles on his chin and +red-lidded eyes. When she entered the hall she let a smiling glance +glide along the table, but without looking at or saluting any one. She +scarcely touched the dishes--at least from the point of view of Mary's +sturdy appetite--but even before the soup was served she nibbled at +the dates meant for dessert, and then the bracelets upon her +incredibly delicate wrists made a strange, fairy music. She wore a +wedding ring. But it had always been open to doubt whether the old +gentleman was her husband. For her demeanour toward him was that of a +spoiled but sedulously watched child. + +And he--he sat opposite Mary at table. He was a very dark young man, +with black, melancholy eyes--Italian eyes, one called them in her +Pomeranian home land. He had remarkably white, narrow hands, and a +small, curly beard, which was clipped so close along the cheeks that +the skin itself seemed to have a bluish shimmer. He had never spoken +to Mary, presumably because he knew no German, but now and then he +would let his eyes rest upon her with a certain smiling emotion which +seemed to her to be very blameworthy and which filled her with +confusion. Thus, however, it had come to pass that, whenever she got +ready to go to table her thoughts were busy with him, and it was not +rare for her to ask herself at the opening of the door to the +dining-hall: "I wonder whether he's here or will come later?" + +For several days there had been noticeable in this young man an +inclination to gaze over his left shoulder to the side table at which +the young Frenchwoman sat. And several times this glance had met an +answering one, however fleeting. And more than that! She could be seen +observing him with smiling consideration as, between the fish and the +roast, she pushed one grape after another between her lips. He was, of +course, not cognisant of all that, but Mary knew of it and was +surprised and slightly shocked. + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +And now they were both silent, thinking, obviously, that they had but +just come within hearing distance. + +Then they hurried past the slowly creeping couple. The lady looked +downward, kicking pebbles; the gentleman bowed. It was done seriously, +discreetly, as befits a mere neighbour at table. Mary blushed. That +happened often, far too often. And she was ashamed. Thus it happened +that she often blushed from fear of blushing. + +The gentleman saw it and did not smile. She thanked him for it in her +heart, and blushed all the redder, for he _might_ have smiled. + +"We'll have to eat the omelettes cold again," the invalid mumbled into +his shawls. + +This time she understood him. + +"Then we'll order fresh ones." + +"Oh," he said reproachfully, "you haven't the courage. You're always +afraid of the waiters." + +She looked up at him with a melancholy smile. + +It was true. She was afraid of the waiters. That could not be denied. +Her necessary dealings with these dark and shiny-haired gentlemen in +evening clothes were a constant source of fear and annoyance. They +scarcely gave themselves the trouble to understand her bad French and +her worse Italian. And when they dared to smile...! + +But his concern had been needless. The breakfast did not consist of +omelettes, but of macaroni boiled in water and mixed with long strings +of cheese. He was forbidden to eat this dish. + +Mary mixed his daily drink, milk with brandy, and was happy to see the +eagerness with which he absorbed the life-giving fumes. The dark +gentleman was already in his seat opposite her, and every now and then +the glance of his velvety eyes glided over her. She was more keenly +conscious of this glance than ever, and dared less than ever to meet +it. A strange feeling, half delight and half resentment, overcame her. +And yet she had no cause to complain that his attention passed the +boundary of rigid seemliness. + +She stroked her heavy tresses of reddish blonde hair, which curved +madonna-like over her temples. They had not been crimped or curled, +but were simple and smooth, as befits the wife of a North German +clergyman. She would have liked to moisten with her lips the fingers +with which she stroked them. This was the only art of the toilet which +she knew. But that would have been improper at table. + +He wore a yellow silk shirt with a pattern of riding crops. A bunch of +violets stuck in his button-hole. Its fragrance floated across +the table. + +Now the young Frenchwoman entered the hall too. Very carefully she +pressed her old uncle's arm, and talked to him in a stream of +charming chatter. + +The dark gentleman quivered. He compressed his lips but did not turn +around. Neither did the lady take any notice of him. She rolled bread +pellets with her nervous fingers, played with her bracelets and let +the dishes go by untouched. + +The long coat of cream silk, which she had put on, increased the tall +flexibility of her form. A being woven of sunlight and morning dew, +unapproachable in her serene distinction--thus she appeared to Mary, +whose hands had been reddened by early toil, and whose breadth of +shoulder was only surpassed by her simplicity of heart. + +When the roast came Nathaniel revived slightly. He suffered her to +fasten the shawl about his shoulders, and rewarded her with a +contented smile. It was her sister Anna's opinion that at such moments +he resembled the Saviour. The eyes in their blue hollows gleamed with +a ghostly light, a faint rosiness shone upon his cheek-bones, and even +the blonde beard on the sunken cheeks took on a certain glow. + +Grateful for the smile, she pressed his arm. She was satisfied with so +little. + +Breakfast was over. The gentleman opposite made his silent bow and +arose. + +"Will he salute her?" Mary asked herself with some inner timidity. + +No. He withdrew without glancing at the corner table. + +"Perhaps they have fallen out again," Mary; said to herself. The lady +looked after him. A gentle smile played about the corners of her +mouth--a superior, almost an ironical smile. Then, her eyes still +turned to the door, she leaned across toward the old gentleman in +eager questioning. + +"She doesn't care for him," Mary reasoned, with a slight feeling of +satisfaction. It was as though some one had returned to her what she +had deemed lost. + +He had been gone long, but his violets had left their fragrance. + +Mary went up to her room to get a warmer shawl for Nathaniel. As she +came out again, she saw in the dim hall the radiant figure of the +French lady come toward her and open the door to the left of her +own room. + +"So we are neighbours," Mary thought, and felt flattered by the +proximity. She would have liked to salute her, but she did not dare. + +Then she accompanied Nathaniel down to the promenade on the beach. The +hours dragged by. + +He did not like to have his brooding meditation interrupted by +questions or anecdotes. These hours were dedicated to getting well. +Every breath here cost money and must be utilised to the utmost. Here +breathing was religion, and falling ill a sin. + +Mary looked dreamily out upon the sea, to which the afternoon sun now +lent a deeper blue. Light wreaths of foam eddied about the stones. In +wide semicircles the great and shadowy arms of the mountains embraced +the sea. From the far horizon, in regions of the upper air, came from +time to time an argent gleam. For there the sun was reflected by +unseen fields of snow. + +There lay the Alps, and beyond them, deep buried in fog and winter, +lay their home land. + +Thither Mary's thoughts wandered. They wandered to a sharp-gabled +little house, groaning under great weights of snow, by the strand of a +frozen stream. The house was so deeply hidden in bushes that the +depending boughs froze fast in the icy river and were not liberated +till the tardy coming of spring. + +And a hundred paces from it stood the white church and the comfortable +parsonage. But what did she care for the parsonage, even though she +had grown to womanhood in it and was now its mistress? + +That little cottage--the widow's house, as the country folk called +it--that little cottage held everything that was dear to her at home. +There sat by the green tile oven--and oh, how she missed it here, +despite the palms and the goodly sun--her aged mother, the former +pastor's widow, and her three older sisters, dear and blonde and thin +and almost faded. There they sat, worlds away, needy and laborious, +and living but in each others' love. Four years had passed since the +father had been carried to the God's acre and they had had to leave +the parsonage. + +That had marked the end of their happiness and their youth. They could +not move to the city, for they had no private means, and the gifts of +the poor congregation, a dwelling, wood and other donations, could not +be exchanged for money. And so they had to stay there quietly and see +their lives wither. + +The candidate of theology, Nathaniel Pogge, equipped with mighty +recommendations, came to deliver his trial sermon. + +As he ascended the pulpit, long and frail, flat-chested and narrow +shouldered, she saw him for the first time. His emaciated, freckled +hand which held the hymn book, trembled with a kind of fever. But his +blue eyes shone with the fires of God. To be sure, his voice sounded +hollow and hoarse, and often he had to struggle for breath in the +middle of a sentence. But what he said was wise and austere, and found +favour in the eyes of his congregation. + +His mother moved with him into the parsonage. She was a small, fussy +lady, energetic and very business-like, who complained of what she +called previous mismanagement and seemed to avoid friendly relations. + +But her son found his way to the widow's house for all that. He found +it oftener and oftener, and the only matter of uncertainty was as to +which of the four sisters had impressed him. + +She would never have dreamed that his eye had fallen upon her, the +youngest. But a refusal was not to be thought of. It was rather her +duty to kiss his hands in gratitude for taking her off her mother's +shoulders and liberating her from a hopeless situation. Certainly she +would not have grudged her happiness to one of her sisters; if it +could be called happiness to be subject to a suspicious mother-in-law +and the nurse of a valetudinarian. But she tried to think it +happiness. And, after all, there was the widow's house, to which one +could slip over to laugh or to weep one's fill, as the mood of the +hour dictated. Either would have been frowned upon at home. + +And of course she loved him. + +Assuredly. How should she not have loved him? Had she not sworn to do +so at the altar? And then his condition grew worse from day to day and +needed her love all the more. + +It happened ever oftener that she had to get up at night to heat his +moss tea; and ever more breathlessly he cowered in the sacristy after +his weekly sermon. And that lasted until the hemorrhage came, which +made the trip south imperative. + +Ah, and with what grave anxieties had this trip been undertaken! A +substitute had to be procured. Their clothes and fares swallowed the +salary of many months. They had to pay fourteen francs board a day, +not to speak of the extra expenses for brandy, milk, fires and drugs. +Nor was this counting the physician who came daily. It was a desperate +situation. + +But he recovered. At least it was unthinkable that he shouldn't. What +object else would these sacrifices have had? + +He recovered. The sun and sea and air cured him; or, at least, her +love cured him. And this love, which Heaven had sent her as her +highest duty, surrounded him like a soft, warm garment, exquisitely +flexible to the movement of every limb, not hindering, but yielding to +the slightest impulse of movement; forming a protection against the +rough winds of the world, surer than a wall of stone or a cloak +of fire. + +The sun sank down toward the sea. His light assumed a yellow, metallic +hue, hard and wounding, before it changed and softened into violet and +purple shades. The group of pines on the beach seemed drenched in a +sulphurous light and the clarity of their outlines hurt the eye. Like + a heavy and compact mass, ready to hurtle down, the foliage of the +gardens bent over the crumbling walls. From the mountains came a gusty +wind that announced the approaching fall of night. + +The sick man shivered. Mary was about to suggest their going home, +when she perceived the form of a man that had intruded between her and +the sinking sun and that was surrounded by a yellow radiance. She +recognised the dark gentleman. + +A feeling of restlessness overcame her, but she could not turn her +eyes from him. Always, when he was near, a strange presentiment came +to her--a dreamy knowledge of an unknown land. This impression varied +in clearness. To-night she was fully conscious of it. + +What she felt was difficult to put into words. She seemed almost to be +afraid of him. And yet that was impossible, for what was he to her? +She wasn't even interested in him. Surely not. His eyes, his violet +fragrance, the flexible elegance of his movements--these things merely +aroused in her a faint curiosity. Strictly speaking, he wasn't even a +sympathetic personality, and had her sister Lizzie, who had a gift for +satire, been here, they would probably have made fun of him. The +anxious unquiet which he inspired must have some other source. Here +in the south everything was so different--richer, more colourful, more +vivid than at home. The sun, the sea, houses, flowers, faces--upon +them all lay more impassioned hues. Behind all that there must be a +secret hitherto unrevealed to her. + +She felt this secret everywhere. It lay in the heavy fragrance of the +trees, in the soft swinging of the palm leaves, in the multitudinous +burgeoning and bloom about her. It lay in the long-drawn music of the +men's voices, in the caressing laughter of the women. It lay in the +flaming blushes that, even at table, mantled her face; in the +delicious languor that pervaded her limbs and seemed to creep into the +innermost marrow of her bones. + +But this secret which she felt, scented and absorbed with every organ +of her being, but which was nowhere to be grasped, looked upon or +recognised--this secret was in some subtle way connected with the man +who stood there, irradiated, upon the edge of the cliff, and gazed +upon the ancient tower which stood, unreal as a piece of stage +scenery, upon the path. + +Now he observed her. + +For a moment it seemed as though he were about to approach to address +her. In his character of a neighbour at table he might well have +ventured to do so. But the hasty gesture with which she turned to +her sick husband forbade it. + +"That would be the last inconvenience," Mary thought, "to make +acquaintances." + +But as she was going home with her husband, she surprised herself in +speculation as to how she might have answered his words. + +"My French will go far enough," she thought. "At need I might have +risked it." + +The following day brought a sudden lapse in her husband's recovery. + +"That happens often," said the physician, a bony consumptive with the +manners of a man of the world and an equipment in that inexpensive +courtesy which doctors are wont to assume in hopeless and poorly +paying cases. + +To listen to him one would think that pulmonary consumption ended in +invariable improvement. + +"And if something happens during the night?" Mary asked anxiously. + +"Then just wait quietly until morning," the doctor said with the firm +decision of a man who doesn't like to have his sleep disturbed. + +Nathaniel had to stay in bed and Mary was forced to request the +waiters to bring meals up to their room. + +Thus passed several days, during which she scarcely left the sick-bed +of her husband. And when she wasn't writing home, or reading to him +from the hymn book, or cooking some easing draught upon the spirit +lamp, she gazed dreamily out of the window. + +She had not seen her beautiful neighbour again. With all the more +attention she sought to catch any sound, any word that might give her +a glimpse into the radiant Paradise of that other life. + +A soft singing ushered in the day. Then followed a laughing chatter +with the little maid, accompanied by the rattle of heated +curling-irons and splashing of bath sponges. Occasionally, too, there +was a little dispute on the subject of ribands or curls or such +things. Mary's French, which was derived from the _Histoire de Charles +douze,_ the _Aventures de Telemaque_ and other lofty books, found an +end when it came to these discussions. + +About half-past ten the lady slipped from her room. Then one could +hear her tap at her uncle's door, or call a laughing good-morning to +him from the hall. + +From now on the maid reigned supreme in the room. She straightened it, +sang, rattled the curling-irons even longer than for her mistress, +tripped up and down, probably in front of the mirror, and received the +kindly attentions of several waiters. From noon on everything was +silent and remained silent until dusk. Then the lady returned. The +little songs she sang were of the very kind that one might well sing +if, with full heart, one gazes out upon the sea, while the +orange-blossoms are fragrant and the boughs of the eucalyptus rustle. +They proved to Mary that in that sunny creature, as in herself, there +dwelt that gentle, virginal yearning that had always been to her a +source of dreamy happiness. + +At half-past five o'clock the maid knocked at the door. Then began +giggling and whispering as of two school-girls. Again sounded the +rattle of the curling-irons and the rustling of silken skirts. The +fragrance of unknown perfumes and essences penetrated into Mary's +room, and she absorbed it eagerly. + +The dinner-bell rang and the room was left empty. + +At ten o'clock there resounded a merry: "_Bonne nuit, mon oncle!_" + +Angeline, the maid, received her mistress at the door and performed +the necessary services more quietly than before. Then she went out, +received by the waiters, who were on the stairs. + +Then followed, in there, a brief evening prayer, carelessly and half +poutingly gabbled as by a tired child. At eleven the keyhole grew +dark. And during the hours of Mary's heaviest service, there sounded +within the peaceful drawing of uninterrupted breath. + +This breathing was a consolation to her during the terrible, creeping +hours, whose paralysing monotony was only interrupted by anxious +crises in the patient's condition. + +The breathing seemed to her a greeting from a pure and sisterly +soul--a greeting from that dear land of joy where one can laugh by day +and sing in the dusk and sleep by night. + +Nathaniel loved the hymns for the dying. + +He asserted that they filled him with true mirth. The more he could +gibe at hell or hear the suffering of the last hours put to scorn, the +more could he master a kind of grim humour. He, the shepherd of souls, +felt it his duty to venture upon the valley of the shadow to which he +had so often led the trembling candidate of death, with the boldness +of a hero in battle. + +This poor, timid soul, who had never been able to endure the angry +barking of a dog, played with the terror of death like a bull-necked +gladiator. + +"Read me a song of death, but a strengthening one," he would say +repeatedly during the day, but also at night, if he could not sleep. +He needed it as a child needs its cradle song. Often he was angry +when in her confusion and blinded by unshed tears, she chose a wrong +one. Like a literary connoisseur who rolls a Horatian ode or a +Goethean lyric upon his tongue--even thus he enjoyed these +sombre stanzas. + +There was one: "I haste to my eternal home," in which the beyond was +likened to a bridal chamber and to a "crystal sea of blessednesses." +There was another: "Greatly rejoice now, O my soul," which would admit +no redeeming feature about this earth, and was really a prayer for +release. And there was one filled with the purest folly of +Christendom: "In peace and joy I fare from hence." And this one +promised a smiling sleep. But they were all overshadowed by that +rejoicing song: "Thank God, the hour has come!" which, like a cry of +victory, points proudly and almost sarcastically to the conquered +miseries of the earth. + +The Will to Live of the poor flesh intoxicated itself with these pious +lies as with some hypnotic drug. But at the next moment it recoiled +and gazed yearningly and eager eyed out into the sweet and sinful +world, which didn't tally in the least with that description of it as +a vale of tears, of which the hymns were so full. + +Mary read obediently what he demanded. Close to her face she held the +narrow hymn-book, fighting down her sobs. For he did not think of +the tortures he prepared for his anxiously hoping wife. + +Why did he thirst for death since he knew that he _must_ not die? + +Not yet. Ah, not yet! Now that suddenly a whole, long, unlived life +lay between them--a life they had never even suspected. + +She could not name it, this new, rich life, but she felt it +approaching, day by day. It breathed its fragrant breath into her face +and poured an exquisite bridal warmth into her veins. + +It was on the fourth day of his imprisonment in his room. The +physician had promised him permission to go out on the morrow. + +His recovery was clear. + +She sat at the window and inhaled with quivering nostrils the sharp +fragrance of the burning pine cones that floated to her in +bluish waves. + +The sun was about to set. An unknown bird sat, far below, in the +orange grove and, as if drunk with light and fragrance, chirped +sleepily and ended with a fluting tone. + +Now that the great dread of the last few days was taken from her, that +sweet languor the significance of which she could not guess came over +her again. + +Her neighbour had already come home. She opened her window and closed +it, only to open it again. From time to time she sang a few brief +tones, almost like the strange bird in the grove. + +Then her door rattled and Angeline's voice cried out with jubilant +laughter: "_Une lettre, Madame, une lettre_!" + +"_Une lettre--de qui?_" + +"_De lui!_" + +Then a silence fell, a long silence. + +Who was this "he?" Surely some one at home. It was the hour of the +mail delivery. + +But the voice of the maid soon brought enlightenment. + +She had managed the affair cleverly. She had met him in the hall and +saluted him so that he had found the courage to address her. And just +now he had pressed the envelope, together with a twenty-franc piece, +into her hand. He asserted that he had an important communication to +make to her mistress, but had never found an opportunity to address +himself to her in person. + +"_Tais-toi donc--on nous entend_!" + +And from now on nothing was to be heard but whispering and giggling. + +Mary felt now a wave of hotness, started from her nape and overflowing +her face. + +Listening and with beating heart, she sat there. + +What in all the world could he have written? For that it was he, she +could no longer doubt. + +Perhaps he had declared his love and begged for the gift of her hand. + A dull feeling of pain, the cause of which was dark to her, +oppressed her heart. + +And then she smiled--a smile of renouncement, although there was +surely nothing here for her to renounce! + +And anyhow--the thing was impossible. For she, to whom such an offer +is made does not chat with a servant girl. Such an one flees into some +lonely place, kneels down, and prays to God for enlightenment and +grace in face of so important a step. + +But indeed she did send the girl away, for the latter's slippers could +he heard trailing along the hall. + +Then was heard gentle, intoxicated laughter, full of restrained +jubilation and arch triumph: "_O comme je suis heureuse! Comme je suis +heureuse!"_ + +Mary felt her eyes grow moist. She felt glad and poignantly sad at the +same time. She would have liked to kiss and bless the other woman, for +now it was clear that he had come to claim her as his bride. + +"If she doesn't pray, I will pray for her," she thought, and folded +her hands. Then a voice sounded behind her, hollow as the roll of +falling earth; rasping as coffin cords: + +"Read me a song of death, Mary." + +A shudder came over her. She jumped up. And she who had hitherto +taken up the hymn-book at his command without hesitation or complaint, +fell down beside his bed and grasped his emaciated arm: "Have pity--I +can't! I can't!" + +Three days passed. The sick man preferred to stay in bed, although his +recovery made enormous strides. Mary brewed his teas, gave him his +drops, and read him his songs of death. That one attempt at rebellion +had remained her only one. + +She heard but little of her neighbour. It seemed that that letter had +put an end to her talkative merriment. The happiness which she had so +jubilantly confessed seemed to have been of brief duration. + +And in those hours when Mary was free to pursue her dreams, she shared +the other's yearning and fear. Probably the old uncle had made +difficulties; had refused his consent, or even demanded the separation +of the lovers. + +Perhaps the dark gentleman had gone away. Who could tell? + +"What strange eyes he had," she thought at times, and whenever she +thought that, she shivered, for it seemed to her that his hot, veiled +glance was still upon her. + +"I wonder whether he is really a good man?" she asked herself. She +would have liked to answer this question in the affirmative, but there + was something that kept her from doing so. And there was another +something in her that took but little note of that aspect, but only +prayed that those two might be happy together, happy as she herself +had never been, happy as--and here lay the secret. + +It was a Sunday evening, the last one in January. + +Nathaniel lay under the bed-clothes and breathed with difficulty. His +fever was remarkably low, but he was badly smothered. + +The lamp burned on the table--a reading lamp had been procured with +difficulty and had been twice carried off in favour of wealthier +guests. Toward the bed Mary had shaded the lamp with a piece of red +blotting paper from her portfolio. A rosy shimmer poured out over the +couch of the ill man, tinted the red covers more red, and caused a +deceptive glow of health to appear on his cheek. + +The flasks and vials on the table glittered with an equivocal +friendliness, as though something of the demeanour of him who had +prescribed their contents adhered to them. + +Between them lay the narrow old hymnal and the gilt figures, "1795" +shimmered in the middle of the worn and shabby covers. + +The hour of retirement had come. The latest of the guests, returning +from the reading room, had said good-night to each other in the +hall. Angeline had been dismissed. Her giggles floated away into +silence along the bannisters and the last of her adorers tiptoed by to +turn out the lights. + +From the next room there came no sound. She was surely asleep, +although her breathing was inaudible. + +Mary sat at the table. Her head was heavy and she stared into the +luminous circle of the lamp. She needed sleep. Yet she was not sleepy. +Every nerve in her body quivered with morbid energy. + +A wish of the invalid called her to his side. + +"The pillow has a lump," he said, and tried to turn over on his other +side. + +Ah, these pillows of sea-grass. She patted, she smoothed, she did her +best, but his head found no repose. + +"Here's another night full of the torment and terror of the flesh," he +said with difficulty, mouthing each word. + +"Do you want a drink?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"The stuff is bitter--but you see--this fear--there's the air and it +fills everything--they say it's ten miles high--and a man like myself +can't--get enough--you see I'm getting greedy." The mild jest upon +his lips was so unwonted that it frightened her. + +"I'd like to ask you to open the window." + +She opposed him. + +"The night air," she urged; "the draught----" + +But that upset him. + +"If you can't do me so small a favour in my suffering--" + +"Forgive me," she said, "it was only my anxiety for you--" + +She got up and opened the French window that gave upon a narrow +balcony. + +The moonlight flooded the room. + +Pressing her hands to her breast, she inhaled the first aromatic +breath of the night air which cooled and caressed her hot face. + +"Is it better so?" she asked, turning around. + +He nodded. "It is better so." + +Then she stepped out on the balcony. She could scarcely drink her fill +of air and moonlight. + +But she drew back, affrighted. What she had just seen was like an +apparition. + +On the neighbouring balcony stood, clad in white, flowing garments of +lace, a woman's figure, and stared with wide open eyes into the +moonlight. + +It was she--her friend. + +Softly Mary stepped out again and observed her, full of shy curiosity. + The moonlight shone full upon the delicate slim face, that seemed to +shine with an inner radiance. The eye had a yearning glow. A smile, +ecstatic and fearful at once, made the lips quiver, and the hands that +grasped the iron railing pulsed as if in fear and expectation. + +Mary heard her own heart begin to beat. A hot flush rose into her +face? + +What was all that? What did it mean? + +Such a look, such a smile, she had never seen in her life. And yet +both seemed infinitely familiar to her. Thus a woman must look who-- + +She had no time to complete the thought, for a fit of coughing +recalled her to Nathaniel. + +A motion of his hand directed her to close the window and the +shutters. It would have been better never to have opened them. Better +for her, too, perhaps. + +Then she sat down next to him and held his head until the paroxysm was +over. + +He sank back, utterly exhausted. His hand groped for hers. With +abstracted caresses she touched his weary fingers. + +Her thoughts dwelt with that white picture without. That poignant +feeling of happiness that she had almost lost during the past few +days, arose in her with a hitherto unknown might. + +And now the sick man began to speak. + +"You have always been good to me, Mary," he said. "You have always +had patience with me." + +"Ah, don't speak so," she murmured. + +"And I wish I could say as full of assurance as you could before the +throne of God: 'Father, I have been true to the duty which you have +allotted to me.'" + +Her hand quivered in his. A feeling of revulsion smothered the +gentleness of their mood. His words had struck her as a reproach. + +Fulfillment of duty! That was the great law to which all human kind +was subject for the sake of God. This law had joined her hand to his, +had accompanied her into the chastity of her bridal bed, and had kept +its vigil through the years by her hearth and in her heart. And thus +love itself had not been difficult to her, for it was commanded to her +and consecrated before the face of God. + +And he? He wished for nothing more, knew nothing more. Indeed, what +lies beyond duty would probably have seemed burdensome to him, if not +actually sinful. + +But there was something more! She knew it now. She had seen it in that +glance, moist with yearning, lost in the light. + +There was something great and ecstatic and all-powerful, something +before which she quailed like a child who must go into the dark, +something that she desired with every nerve and fibre. + +Her eye fastened itself upon the purple square of blotting paper which +looked, in the light of the lamp, like glowing metal. + +She did not know how long she had sat there. It might have been +minutes or hours. Often enough the morning had caught her +brooding thus. + +The sick man's breath came with greater difficulty, his fingers +grasped hers more tightly. + +"Do you feel worse?" she asked. + +"I am a little afraid," he said; "therefore, read me----" + +He stopped, for he felt the quiver of her hand. + +"You know, if you don't want to--" He was wounded in his wretched +valetudinarian egotism, which was constantly on the scent of neglect. + +"Oh, but I do want to; I want to do everything that might----" + +She hurried to the table, pushed the glittering bottles aside, grasped +the hymnal and read at random. + +But she had to stop, for it was a prayer for rain that she had begun. + +Then, as she was turning the leaves of the book, she heard the hall +door of the next room open with infinite caution; she heard flying, +trembling footsteps cross the room from the balcony. + +_"Chut!"_ whispered a trembling voice. + +And the door closed as with a weary moan. + +What was that? + +A suspicion arose in her that brought the scarlet of shame into her +cheek. The whispering next door began anew, passionate, hasty, +half-smothered by anxiety and delight. Two voices were to be +distinguished: a lighter voice which she knew, and a duller voice, +broken into, now and then, by sonorous tones. + +The letters dislimned before her eyes. The hymn-book slipped from her +hands. In utter confusion she stared toward the door. + +_That_ really existed? Such things were possible in the world; +possible among people garbed in distinction, of careful Christian +training, to whom one looks up as to superior beings? + +There was a power upon earth that could make the delicate, radiant, +distinguished woman so utterly forget shame and dignity and +womanliness, that she would open her door at midnight to a man who had +not been wedded to her in the sight of God? + +If that could happen, what was there left to cling to in this world? +Where was one's faith in honour, fidelity, in God's grace and one's +own human worth? A horror took hold of her so oppressive that she +thought she must cry out aloud. + +With a shy glance she looked at her husband. God grant that he hear +nothing. + +She was ashamed before him. She desired to call out, to sing, laugh, +only to drown the noise of that whispering which assailed her ear like +the wave of a fiery sea. + +But no, he heard nothing. + +His sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. He was busied with his +breathing. His chest heaved and fell like a defective machine. + +He didn't even expect her to read to him now. She went up to the bed +and asked, listening with every nerve: "Do you want to sleep, +Nathaniel?" + +He lowered his eyelids in assent. + +"Yes--read," he breathed. + +"Shall I read softly?" + +Again he assented. + +"But read--don't sleep." + +Fear flickered in his eyes. + +"No, no," she stammered. + +He motioned her to go now, and again became absorbed in the problem of +breathing. + +Mary took up the hymnal. + +"You are to read a song of death," she said to herself, for her +promise must be kept. And as though she had not understood her own +admonition, she repeated: "You are to read a song of death." + +But her hearing was morbidly alert, and while the golden figures on +the book danced a ghostly dance before her eyes, she heard again what +she desired to hear. It was like the whispering of the wind against a +forbidden gate. She caught words: + +"_Je t'aime--follement--j'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour--mon +amour._" + +Mary closed her eyes. It seemed to her again as though hot waves +streamed over her. And she had lost shame, too. + +For there was something in all that which silenced reproach, which +made this monstrous deed comprehensible, even natural. If one was so +mad with love, if one felt that one could die of it! + +So that existed, and was not only the lying babble of romances? + +And her spirit returned and compared her own experience of love with +what she witnessed now. + +She had shrunk pitifully from his first kiss. When he had gone, she +had embraced her mother's knees, in fear and torment at the thought of +following this strange man. And she remembered how, on the evening of +her wedding, her mother had whispered into her ear, "Endure, my child, +and pray to God, for that is the lot of woman." And it was that +which, until to-day, she had called love. + +Oh, those happy ones there, those happy ones! + +"Mary," the hollow voice from the bed came. + +She jumped up. "What?" + +"You--don't read." + +"I'll read; I'll read." + +Her hands grovelled among the rough, sticky pages. An odour as of +decaying foliage, which she had never noted before, came from the +book. It was such an odour as comes from dark, ill-ventilated rooms, +and early autumn and everyday clothes. + +At last she found what she was seeking. "Kyrie eleison! Christe +eleison! Dear God, Father in heaven, have mercy upon us!" + +Her lips babbled what her eyes saw, but her heart and her senses +prayed another prayer: "Father in Heaven, who art love and mercy, do +not count for sin to those two that which they are committing against +themselves. Bless their love, even if they do not desire Thy blessing. +Send faithfulness into their hearts that they cleave to one another +and remain grateful for the bliss which Thou givest them. Ah, those +happy ones, those happy ones!" + +Tears came into her eyes. She bent her face upon the yellow leaves of +the book to hide her weeping. It seemed to her suddenly as though +she understood the speech spoken in this land of eternal spring by sun +and sea, by hedges of flowers and evergreen trees, by the song of +birds and the laughter of man. The secret which she had sought to +solve by day and by night lay suddenly revealed before her eyes. + +In a sudden change of feeling her heart grew cold toward that sinful +pair for which she had but just prayed. Those people became as +strangers to her and sank into the mist. Their whispering died away as +if it came from a great distance. + +It was her own life with which she was now concerned. Gray and morose +with its poverty stricken notion of duty, the past lay behind her. +Bright and smiling a new world floated into her ken. + +She had sworn to love him. She had cheated him. She had let him know +want at her side. + +Now that she knew what love was, she would reward him an hundred-fold. +She, too, could love to madness, to adoration, to death. And she must +love so, else she would die of famishment. + +Her heart opened. Waves of tenderness, stormy, thunderous, mighty, +broke forth therefrom. + +Would he desire all that love? And understand it? Was he worthy +of it? What did that matter? + +She must give, give without measure and without reward, without +thought and without will, else she would smother under all her riches. + +And though he was broken and famished and mean of mind and wretched, a +weakling in body and a dullard in soul; and though he lay there +emaciated and gasping, a skeleton almost, moveless, half given over to +dust and decay--what did it matter? + +She loved him, loved him with that new and great love because he alone +in all the world was her own. He was that portion of life and light +and happiness which fate had given her. + +She sprang up and stretched out her arms toward him. + +"You my only one, my all," she whispered, folding her hands under her +chin and staring at him. + +His chest seemed quieter. He lay there in peace. + +Weeping with happiness, she threw herself down beside him and kissed +his hands. And then, as he took no notice of all that, a slow +astonishment came over her. Also, she had an insecure feeling that his +hand was not as usual. + +Powerless to cry out, almost to breathe, she looked upon him. She +felt his forehead; she groped for his heart. All was still and cold. +Then she knew. + +The bell--the waiters--the physician--to what purpose? There was no +need of help here. She knelt down and wanted to pray, and make up for +her neglect. + +A vision arose before her: the widow's house at home; her mother; the +tile oven; her old maidenish sisters rattling their wooden crocheting +hooks--and she herself beside them, her blonde hair smoothed with +water, a little riband at her breast, gazing out upon the frozen +fields, and throttling, throttling with love. For he whom fate had +given her could use her love no longer. + +From the next room sounded the whispering, monotonous, broken, +assailing her ears in glowing waves: + +"_J'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour._" + +That was his song of death. She felt that it was her own, too. + + + + + +THE VICTIM + + +Madame Nelson, the beautiful American, had come to us from Paris, +equipped with a phenomenal voice and solid Italian technique. She had +immediately sung her way into the hearts of Berlin music-lovers, +provided that you care to call a mixture of snobbishness, +sophisticated impressionableness and goose-like imitativeness--heart. +She had, therefore, been acquired by one of our most distinguished +opera houses at a large salary and with long leaves of absence. I use +the plural of opera house in order that no one may try to scent out +the facts. + +Now we had her, more especially our world of Lotharios had her. Not +the younger sons of high finance, who make the boudoirs unsafe with +their tall collars and short breeches; nor the bearers of ancient +names who, having hung up their uniforms in the evening, assume +monocle and bracelet and drag these through second and third-class +drawing-rooms. No, she belonged to those worthy men of middle age, who +have their palaces in the west end, whose wives one treats with +infinite respect, and to whose evenings one gives a final touch of +elegance by singing two or three songs for nothing. + +Then she committed her first folly. She went travelling with an +Italian tenor. "For purposes of art," was the official version. But +the time for the trip--the end of August--had been unfortunately +chosen. And, as she returned ornamented with scratches administered by +the tenor's pursuing wife--no one believed her. + +Next winter she ruined a counsellor of a legation and magnate's son so +thoroughly that he decamped to an unfrequented equatorial region, +leaving behind him numerous promissory notes of questionable value. + +This poor fellow was revenged the following winter by a dark-haired +Roumanian fiddler, who beat her and forced her to carry her jewels to +a pawnshop, where they were redeemed at half price by their original +donour and used to adorn the plump, firm body of a stupid little +ballet dancer. + +Of course her social position was now forfeited. But then Berlin +forgets so rapidly. She became proper again and returned to her +earlier inclinations for gentlemen of middle life with extensive +palaces and extensive wives. So there were quite a few houses--none of +the strictest tone, of course--that were very glad to welcome the +radiant blonde with her famous name and fragrant and modest +gowns--from Paquin at ten thousand francs a piece. + +At the same time she developed a remarkable business instinct. Her +connections with the stock exchange permitted her to speculate without +the slightest risk. For what gallant broker would let a lovely woman +lose? Thus she laid the foundation of a goodly fortune, which was made +to assume stately proportions by a tour through the United States, and +was given a last touch of solidity by a successful speculation in +Dresden real estate. + +Furthermore, it would be unjust to conceal the fact that her most +recent admirer, the wool manufacturer Wormser, had a considerable +share in this hurtling rise of her fortunes. + +Wormser guarded his good repute carefully. He insisted that his +illegitimate inclinations never lack the stamp of highest elegance. He +desired that they be given the greatest possible publicity at +race-meets and first nights. He didn't care if people spoke with a +degree of rancour, if only he was connected with the temporary lady of +his heart. + +Now, to be sure, there was a Mrs. Wormser. She came of a good +Frankfort family. Dowry: a million and a half. She was modern to the +very tips of her nervous, restless fingers. + +This lady was inspired by such lofty social ideals that she would +have considered an inelegant _liaison_ on her husband's part, an +insult not only offered to good taste in general, but to her own in +particular. Such an one she would, never have forgiven. On the other +hand, she approved of Madame Nelson thoroughly. She considered her the +most costly and striking addition to her household. Quite +figuratively, of course. Everything was arranged with the utmost +propriety. At great charity festivals the two ladies exchanged a +friendly glance, and they saw to it that their gowns were never made +after the same model. + +Then it happened that the house of Wormser was shaken. It wasn't a +serious breakdown, but among the good things that had to be thrown +overboard belonged--at the demand of the helping Frankforters--Madame +Nelson. + +And so she waited, like a virgin, for love, like a man in the weather +bureau, for a given star. She felt that her star was yet to rise. + +This was the situation when, one day, Herr von Karlstadt had himself +presented to her. He was a captain of industry; international +reputation; ennobled; the not undistinguished son of a great father. +He had not hitherto been found in the market of love, but it was said +of him that notable women had committed follies for his sake. All in +all, he was a man who commanded the general interest in quite a +different measure from Wormser. + +But artistic successes had raised Madame Nelson's name once more, too, +and when news of the accomplished fact circulated, society found it +hard to decide as to which of the two lent the other a more brilliant +light, or which was the more to be envied. + +However that was, history was richer by a famous pair of lovers. + +But, just as there had been a Mrs. Wormser, so there was a Mrs. von +Karlstadt. + +And it is this lady of whom I wish to speak. + +Mentally as well as physically Mara von Karlstadt did not belong to +that class of persons which imperatively commands the attention of the +public. She was sensitive to the point of madness, a little sensuous, +something of an enthusiast, coquettish only in so far as good taste +demanded it, and hopelessly in love with her husband. She was in love +with him to the extent that she regarded the conquests which +occasionally came to him, spoiled as he was, as the inevitable +consequences of her fortunate choice. They inspired her with a certain +woeful anger and also with a degree of pride. + +The daughter of a great land owner in South Germany, she had been +brought up in seclusion, and had learned only very gradually how to +glide unconcernedly through the drawing-rooms. A tense smile upon her +lips, which many took for irony, was only a remnant of her old +diffidence. Delicate, dark in colouring, with a fine cameo-like +profile, smooth hair and a tawny look in her near-sighted eyes--thus +she glided about in society, and few but friends of the house took any +notice of her. + +And this woman who found her most genuine satisfaction in the +peacefulness of life, who was satisfied if she could slip into her +carriage at midnight without the annoyance of one searching glance, of +one inquiring word, saw herself suddenly and without suspecting the +reason, become the centre of a secret and almost insulting curiosity. +She felt a whispering behind her in society; she saw from her box the +lenses of many opera glasses pointing her way. + +The conversation of her friends began to teem with hints, and into the +tone of the men whom she knew there crept a kind of tender compassion +which pained her even though she knew not how to interpret it. + +For the present no change was to be noted in the demeanour of her +husband. His club and his business had always kept him away from home +a good deal, and if a few extra hours of absence were now added, it +was easy to account for these in harmless ways, or rather, not to +account for them at all, since no one made any inquiry. + +Then, however, anonymous letters began to come--thick, fragrant ones +with stamped coronets, and thin ones on ruled paper with the smudges +of soiled fingers. + +She burned the first batch; the second she handed to her husband. + +The latter, who was not far from forty, and who had trained himself to +an attitude of imperious brusqueness, straightened up, knotted his +bushy Bismarck moustache, and said: + +"Well, suppose it is true. What have you to lose?" + +She did not burst into tears of despair; she did not indulge in fits +of rage; she didn't even leave the room with quiet dignity; her soul +seemed neither wounded nor broken. She was not even affrighted. She +only thought: "I have forgiven him so much; why not forgive him +this, too?" + +And as she had shared him before without feeling herself degraded, so +she would try to share him again. + +But she soon observed that this logic of the heart would prove wanting +in this instance. + +In former cases she had concealed his weakness under a veil of care +and considerateness. The fear of discovery had made a conscious but +silent accessory of her. When it was all over she breathed deep relief +at the thought; "I am the only one who even suspected." + +This time all the world seemed invited to witness the spectacle. + +For now she understood all that, in recent days had tortured her like +an unexplained blot, an alien daub in the face which every one sees +but he whom it disfigures. Now she knew what the smiling hints of her +friends and the consoling desires of men had meant. Now she recognised +the reason why she was wounded by the attention of all. + +She was "the wife of the man whom Madame Nelson ..." + +And so torturing a shame came upon her as though she herself were the +cause of the disgrace with which the world seemed to overwhelm her. + +This feeling had not come upon her suddenly. At first a stabbing +curiosity had awakened in her a self-torturing expectation, not +without its element of morbid attraction. Daily she asked herself: +"What will develope to-day?" + +With quivering nerves and cramped heart, she entered evening after +evening, for the season was at its height, the halls of strangers on +her husband's arm. + +And it was always the same thing. The same glances that passed from +her to him and from him to her, the same compassionate sarcasm upon +averted faces, the same hypocritical delicacy in conversation, the +same sudden silence as soon as she turned to any group of people to +listen--the same cruel pillory for her evening after evening, night +after night. + +And if all this had not been, she would have felt it just the same. + +And in these drawing-rooms there were so many women whose husbands' +affairs were the talk of the town. Even her predecessor, Mrs. Wormser, +had passed over the expensive immorality of her husband with a +self-sufficing smile and a condescending jest, and the world had bowed +down to her respectfully, as it always does when scenting a +temperament that it is powerless to wound. + +Why had this martyrdom come to her, of all people? + +Thus, half against her own will, she began to hide, to refuse this or +that invitation, and to spend the free evenings in the nursery, +watching over the sleep of her boys and weaving dreams of a new +happiness. The illness of her older child gave her an excuse for +withdrawing from society altogether and her husband did not +restrain her. + +It had never come to an explanation between them, and as he was always +considerate, even tender, and as sharp speeches were not native to +her temper, the peace of the home was not disturbed. + +Soon it seemed to her, too, as though the rude inquisitiveness of the +world were slowly passing away. Either one had abandoned the critical +condition of her wedded happiness for more vivid topics, or else she +had become accustomed to the state of affairs. + +She took up a more social life, and the shame which she had felt in +appearing publicly with her husband gradually died out. + +What did not die out, however, was a keen desire to know the nature +and appearance of the woman in whose hands lay her own destiny. How +did she administer the dear possession that fate had put in her power? +And when and how would she give it back? + +She threw aside the last remnant of reserve and questioned friends. +Then, when she was met by a smile of compassionate ignorance, she +asked women. These were more ready to report. But she would not and +could not believe what she was told. He had surely not degraded +himself into being one of a succession of moneyed rakes. It was clear +to her that, in order to soothe her grief, people slandered the woman +and him with her. + +In order to watch her secretly, she veiled heavily and drove to the +theatre where Madame Nelson was singing. Shadowlike she cowered +in the depths of a box which she had rented under an assumed name and +followed with a kind of pained voluptuousness the ecstasies of love +which the other woman, fully conscious of the victorious loveliness of +her body, unfolded for the benefit of the breathless crowd. + +With such an abandoned raising of her radiant arms, she threw herself +upon _his_ breast; with that curve of her modelled limbs, she lay +before _his_ knees. + +And in her awakened a reverent, renouncing envy of a being who had so +much to give, beside whom she was but a dim and poor shadow, weary +with motherhood, corroded with grief. + +At the same time there appeared a California mine owner, a +multi-millionaire, with whom her husband had manifold business +dealings. He introduced his daughters into society and himself gave a +number of luxurious dinners at which he tried to assemble guests of +the most exclusive character. + +Just as they were about to enter a carriage to drive to the "Bristol," +to one of these dinners, a message came which forced Herr von +Karlstadt to take an immediate trip to his factories. He begged his +wife to go instead, and she did not refuse. + +The company was almost complete and the daughter of the mine owner +was doing the honours of the occasion with appropriate grace when the +doors of the reception room opened for the last time and through the +open doorway floated rather than walked--Madame Nelson. + +The petrified little group turned its glance of inquisitive horror +upon Mrs. von Karlstadt, while the mine owner's daughter adjusted the +necessary introductions with a grand air. + +Should she go or not? No one was to be found who would offer her his +arm. Her feet were paralysed. And she remained. + +The company sat down at table. And since fate, in such cases, never +does its work by halves, it came to pass that Madame Nelson was +assigned to a seat immediately opposite her. + +The people present seemed grateful to her that they had not been +forced to witness a scene, and overwhelmed her with delicate signs of +this gratitude. Slowly her self-control returned to her. She dared to +look about her observantly, and, behold, Madame Nelson appealed +to her. + +Her French was faultless, her manners equally so, and when the +Californian drew her into the conversation, she practised the delicate +art of modest considerateness to the extent of talking past Mrs. von +Karlstadt in such a way that those who did not know were not +enlightened and those who knew felt their anxiety depart. + +In order to thank her for this alleviation of a fatally painful +situation, Mrs. von Karlstadt occasionally turned perceptibly toward +the singer. For this Madame Nelson was grateful in her turn. Thus +their glances began to meet in friendly fashion, their voices to +cross, the atmosphere became less constrained from minute to minute, +and when the meal was over the astonished assembly had come to the +conclusion that Mrs. von Karlstadt was ignorant of the true state +of affairs. + +The news of this peculiar meeting spread like a conflagration. Her +women friends hastened to congratulate her on her strength of mind; +her male friends praised her loftiness of spirit. She went through the +degradation which she had suffered as though it were a triumph. Only +her husband went about for a time with an evil conscience and a +frowning forehead. + +Months went by. The quietness of summer intervened, but the memory of +that evening rankled in her and blinded her soul. Slowly the thought +arose in her which was really grounded in vanity, but looked, in its +execution, like suffering love--the thought that she would legitimise +her husband's irregularity in the face of society. + +Hence when the season began again she wrote a letter to Madame Nelson +in which she invited her, in a most cordial way, to sing at an +approaching function in her home. She proffered this request, not only +in admiration of the singer's gifts, but also, as she put it, "to +render nugatory a persistent and disagreeable rumour." + +Madame Nelson, to whom this chance of repairing her fair fame was very +welcome, had the indiscretion to assent, and even to accept the +condition of entire secrecy in regard to the affair. + +The chronicler may pass over the painful evening in question with +suitable delicacy of touch. Nothing obvious or crass took place. +Madame Nelson sang three enchanting songs, accompanied by a first-rate +pianist. A friend of the house of whom the hostess had requested this +favour took Madame Nelson to the _buffet_. A number of guileless +individuals surrounded that lady with hopeful adoration. An ecstatic +mood prevailed. The one regrettable feature of the occasion was that +the host had to withdraw--as quietly as possible, of course--on +account of a splitting head-ache. + +Berlin society, which felt wounded in the innermost depth of its +ethics, never forgave the Karlstadts for this evening. I believe that +in certain circles the event is still remembered, although years +have passed. + +Its immediate result, however, was a breach between man and wife. +Mara went to the Riviera, where she remained until spring. + +An apparent reconciliation was then patched up, but its validity was +purely external. + +Socially, too, things readjusted themselves, although people continued +to speak of the Karlstadt house with a smile that asked for +indulgence. + +Mara felt this acutely, and while her husband appeared oftener and +more openly with his mistress, she withdrew into the silence of her +inner chambers. + + * * * * * + +Then she took a lover. + +Or, rather, she was taken by him. + +A lonely evening ... A fire in the chimney ... A friend who came in by +accident ... The same friend who had taken care of Madame Nelson for +her on that memorable evening ... The fall of snow without ... A burst +of confidence ... A sob ... A nestling against the caressing hand ... +It was done ... + +Months passed. She experienced not one hour of intoxication, not one +of that inner absolution which love brings. It was moral slackness and +weariness that made her yield again.... + +Then the consequences appeared. + +Of course, the child could not, must not, be born. And it was not +born. One can imagine the horror of that tragic time: the criminal +flame of sleepless nights, the blood-charged atmosphere of guilty +despair, the moans of agony that had to be throttled behind +closed doors. + +What remained to her was lasting invalidism. + +The way from her bed to an invalid's chair was long and hard. + +Time passed. Improvements came and gave place to lapses in her +condition. Trips to watering-places alternated with visits to +sanatoriums. + +In those places sat the pallid, anaemic women who had been tortured +and ruined by their own or alien guilt. There they sat and engaged in +wretched flirtations with flighty neurasthenics. + +And gradually things went from bad to worse. The physicians shrugged +their friendly shoulders. + +And then it happened that Madame Nelson felt the inner necessity of +running away with a handsome young tutor. She did this less out of +passion than to convince the world--after having thoroughly fleeced +it--of the unselfishness of her feelings. For it was her ambition to +be counted among the great lovers of all time. + + * * * * * + +One evening von Karlstadt entered the sick chamber of his wife, sat +down beside her bed and silently took her hand. She was aware of +everything, and asked with a gentle smile upon her white lips: + +"Be frank with me: did you love her, at least?" + +He laughed shrilly. "What should have made me love this--business +lady?" + +They looked at each other long. Upon her face death had set its seal. +His hair was gray, his self-respect broken, his human worth +squandered.... + +And then, suddenly, they clung to each other, and leaned their +foreheads against each other, and wept. + + + + + +AUTUMN + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was on a sunny afternoon in October. Human masses streamed through +the alleys of the _Tiergarten_. With the desperate passion of an +ageing woman who feels herself about to be deserted, the giant city +received the last caresses of summer. A dotted throng that was not +unlike the chaos of the _Champs Elysees_, filled the broad, gray road +that leads to Charlottenburg. + +Berlin, which cannot compete with any other great European city, as +far as the luxury of vehicular traffic is concerned, seemed to have +sent out to-day all it possessed in that kind. The weather was too +beautiful for closed _coupes_, and hence the comfortable family landau +was most in evidence. Only now and then did an elegant victoria glide +along, or an aristocratic four-in-hand demand the respectful yielding +of the crowd. + +A dog-cart of dark yellow, drawn by a magnificent trotter, attracted +the attention of experts. The noble animal, which seemed to feel the +security of the guiding hand, leaned, snorting, upon its bit. With far +out-reaching hind legs, it flew along, holding its neck moveless, as +became a scion of its race. + +The man who drove was sinewy, tall, about forty, with clear, gray +eyes, sharply cut profile and a close-clipped moustache. In his thin, +brownish cheeks were several deep scars, and between the straight, +narrow brows could be seen two salient furrows. + +His attire--an asphalt-gray, thick-seamed overcoat, a coloured shirt +and red gloves--did not deny the sportsman. His legs, which pressed +against the footboard, were clad in tight, yellow riding boots. + +Many people saluted him. He returned their salutations with that +careless courtesy which belongs to those who know themselves to have +transcended the judgment of men. + +If one of his acquaintances happened to be accompanied by a lady, he +bowed deeply and respectfully, but without giving the ladies in +question a single glance. + +People looked after him and mentioned his name: Baron von Stueckrath. + +Ah, that fellow ... + +And they looked around once more. + +At the square of the _Great Star_ he turned to the left, drove along +the river, passed the well-known resort called simply _The Tents_, +and stopped not far from the building of the general staff of the army +and drew up before a large distinguished house with a fenced front +garden and cast-iron gate to the driveway. + +He threw the reins to the groom, who sat statuesquely behind him, and +said: "Drive home." + +Jumping from the cart, he observed the handle of the scraper sticking +in the top of one of his boots. He drew it out, threw it on the seat, +and entered the house. + +The janitor, an old acquaintance, greeted him with the servile +intimacy of the tip-expecting tribe. + +On the second floor he stopped and pulled the bell whose glass knob +glittered above a neat brass plate. + +"Ludovika Kraissl," was engraved upon it. + +A maid, clad with prim propriety in a white apron and white lace cap, +opened the door. + +He entered and handed her his hat. + +"Is Madame at home?" + +"No, sir." + +He looked at her through half-closed lids, and observed how her +milk-white little madonna's face flushed to the roots of her +blonde hair. + +"Where did she go?" + +"Madame meant to go to the dressmaker," the girl stuttered, "and to +make some purchases." She avoided his eyes. She had been in service +only three months and had not yet perfected herself in lying. + +He whistled a tune between his set teeth and entered the drawing-room. + +A penetrating perfume streamed forth. + +"Open the window, Meta." + +She passed noiselessly through the room and executed his command. + +Frowning, he looked about him. The empty pomp of the light woman +offended his taste. The creature who lived here had a gift for filling +every corner with banal and tasteless trivialities. + +When he had turned over the flat to her it had been a charming little +place, full of delicate tints and the simple lines of Louis Seize +furniture. In a few years she had made a junk shop of it. + +"Would you care for tea, sir, or anything else?" the girl asked. + +"No, thank you. Pull off my boots, Meta. I'll change my dress and then +go out again." + +Modestly, almost humbly, she bowed before him and set his spurred foot +gently on her lap. Then she loosened the top straps. He let his glance +rest, well pleased, upon her smooth, silvery blonde hair. + +How would it work if he sent his mistress packing and installed this +girl in her place? + +But he immediately abandoned the thought. He had seen the thing done +by some of his friends. In a single year the chastest and most modest +servant girl was so thoroughly corrupted that she had to be driven +into the streets. + +"We men seem to emit a pestilential air," he reflected, "that corrupts +every woman." + +"Or at least men of my kind," he added carefully. + +"Have you any other wishes, sir?" asked the girl, daintily wiping her +hands on her apron. + +"No, thank you." + +She turned to the door. + +"One thing more, Meta. When did Madame say she would be back?" + +Her face was again mantled with blood. + +"She didn't say anything definite. I was to make her excuses. She +intended to return home by evening, at all events." + +He nodded and the girl went with a sigh of relief, gently closing the +door behind her. + +He continued to whistle, and looked up at a hanging lamp, which +defined itself against the window niche by means of a wreath of gay +artificial flowers. + +In this hanging lamp, which hung there unnoticed and unreachable from +the floor, he had, a year ago, quite by accident, discovered a store +of love letters. His mistress had concealed them there since she +evidently did not even consider the secret drawer of her desk a +sufficiently safe repository. + +He had carefully kept the secret of the lamp to himself, and had only +fed his grim humour from time to time by observing the changes of her +heart by means of added missives. In this way he had been able to +observe the number of his excellent friends with whom she +deceived him. + +Thus his contempt for mankind assumed monstrous proportions, but this +contempt was the one emotional luxury which his egoism was still +capable of. + +He grasped a chair and seemed, for a moment about to mount to the lamp +to inspect her latest history. But he let his hand fall. After all, it +was indifferent with whom she was unfaithful to-day.... + +And he was tired. A bad day's work lay behind him. A three-year-old +full-blooded horse, recently imported from Hull, had proven itself +abnormally sensitive and had brought him to the verge of despair by +its fearfulness and its moods. He had exercised it for hours, and had +only succeeded in making the animal more nervous than before. Great +sums were at stake if the fault should prove constitutional and +not curable. + +He felt the impulse to share his worries with some one, but he knew of +no one. From the point of view of Miss Ludi's naive selfishness, it +was simply his duty to be successful. She didn't care for the +troublesome details. At his club, again, each one was warily guarding +his own interests. Hence it was necessary there to speak carefully, +since an inadvertent expression might affect general opinion. + +He almost felt impelled to call in the maid and speak to her of his +worries. + +Then his own softness annoyed him. + +It was his wont to pass through life in lordly isolation and to +astonish the world by his successes. That was all he needed. + +Yawning he stretched himself out on the _chaise longue_. Time dragged. + +Three hours would pass until Ludi's probable return. He was so +accustomed to the woman's society that he almost longed for her. Her +idle chatter helped him. Her little tricks refreshed him. But the most +important point was this: she was no trouble. He could caress her or +beat her, call to her and drive her from him like a little dog. He +could let her feel the full measure of his contempt, and she would not +move a muscle. She was used to nothing else. + +He passed two or three hours daily in her company, for time had to be +killed somehow. Sometimes, too, he took her to the circus or the +theatre. He had long broken with the families of his acquaintance and +could appear in public with light women. + +And yet he felt a sharp revulsion at the atmosphere that surrounded +him. A strange discomfort invaded his soul in her presence. He didn't +feel degraded. He knew her to be a harlot. But that was what he +wanted. None but such an one would permit herself to be so treated. It +was rather a disguised discouragement that held him captive. + +Was life to pass thus unto the very end? Was life worth living, if it +offered a favourite of fortune, a master of his will and of his +actions, nothing better than this? + +"Surely I have the spleen," he said to himself, sprang up, and went +into the next room to change his clothes. He had a wardrobe in Ludi's +dressing room in order to be able to go out from here in the evening +unrestrainedly. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was near four o'clock. + +The sun laughed through the window. Its light was deep purple, +changing gradually to violet. Masses of leaves, red as rust, gleamed +over from the _Tiergarten_. The figure of Victory upon the triumphal +column towered toward heaven like a mighty flame. + +He felt an impulse to wander through the alleys of the park idly and +aimlessly, at most to give a coin to a begging child. + +He left the house and went past the Moltke monument and the winding +ways that lead to the Charlottenburg road. + +The ground exhaled the sweetish odour of decaying plants. Rustling +heaps of leaves, which the breezes of noon had swept together, flew +apart under his tread. The westering sun threw red splotches of light +on the faint green of the tree trunks that exuded their moisture in +long streaks. + +Here it was lonely. Only beyond the great road, whose many-coloured +pageant passed by him like a kinematograph, did he hear again in the +alleys the sounds of children's voices, song and laughter. + +In the neighbourhood of the _Rousseau Island_ he met a gentleman whom +he knew and who had been a friend of his youth. Stout of form, his +round face surrounded by a close-clipped beard, he wandered along, +leading two little girls in red, while a boy in a blue sailor suit +rode ahead, herald-like, on his father's walking-stick. + +The two men bowed to each other coolly, but without ill-will. They +were simply estranged. The busy servant of the state and father of a +family was scarcely to be found in those circles were the daily work +consists in riding and betting and gambling. + +Stueckrath sat down on a bench and gazed after the group. The little +red frocks gleamed through the bushes, and Papa's admonishing and +restraining voice was to be heard above the noise of the boy who made +a trumpet of his hollow hand. + +"Is that the way happiness looks?" he asked himself. "Can a man of +energy and action find satisfaction in these banal domesticities?" + +And strangely enough, these fathers of families, men who serve the +state and society, who occupy high offices, make important inventions +and write good books--these men have red cheeks and laughing eyes. +They do not look as though the burden which they carry squeezes the +breath of life out of them. They get ahead, in spite of the childish +hands that cling to their coats, in spite of the trivialities with +which they pass their hours of leisure. + +An indeterminate feeling of envy bored into his soul. He fought it +down and went on, right into the throng that filled the footpaths of +the _Tiergarten_. Groups of ladies from the west end went by him in +rustling gowns of black. He did not know them and did not wish to +know them. + +Here, too, he recognized fewer of the men. The financiers who have +made this quarter their own appear but rarely at the races. + +Accompanying carriages kept pace with the promenaders in order to +explain and excuse their unusual exertion. For in this world the +continued absence of one's carriage may well shake one's credit. + +The trumpeting motor-cars whirred by with gleaming brasses. Of the +beautiful women in them, little could be seen in the swift gleams. It +was the haste of a new age that does not even find time to display +its vanity. + +Upon the windows of the villas and palaces opposite lay the iridescent +glow of the evening sun. The facades took on purple colours, and the +decaying masses of vines that weighed heavily upon the fences seemed +to glow and shine from within with the very phosphorescence of decay. + +Flooded by this light, a slender, abnormally tall girl came into +Stueckrath's field of vision. She led by the arm an aged lady, who +hobbled with difficulty along the pebbly path. A closed carriage with +escutcheon and coronet followed the two slowly. + +He stopped short. An involuntary movement had passed through his body, +an impulse to turn off into one of the side paths. But he conquered +himself at once, and looked straight at the approaching ladies. + +Like a mere line of blackness, thin of limb and waist, attired with +nun-like austerity in garments that hung as if withering upon her, she +stood against the background of autumnal splendour. + +Now she recognised him, too. A sudden redness that at once gave way to +lifeless pallor flashed across her delicate, stern face. + +They looked straight into each other's eyes. + +He bowed deeply. She smiled with an effort at indifference. + +"And so she is faded, too," he thought. To be sure, her face still +bore the stamp of a simple and severe beauty, but time and grief had +dealt ungently with it. The lips were pale and anaemic, two or three +folds, sharp as if made with a knife, surrounded them. About the eyes, +whose soft and lambent light of other days had turned into a hard and +troubled sharpness, spread concentric rings, united by a net-work of +veins and wrinkles. + +He stood still, lost in thought, and looked after her. + +She still trod the earth like a queen, but her outline was detestable. + +Only hopelessness bears and attires itself thus. + +He calculated. She must be thirty-six. Thirteen years ago he had known +her and--loved her? Perhaps.... + +At least he had left her the evening before their formal betrothal was +to take place because her father had dared to remark upon his way +of life. + +He loved his personal liberty more than his beautiful and wealthy +betrothed who clung to him with every fibre of her delicate and noble +soul. One word from her, had it been but a word of farewell, would +have recalled him. That word remained unspoken. + +Thus her life's happiness had been wrecked. Perhaps his, too. What did +it matter? + +Since then he had nothing but contempt for the daughters of good +families. Other women were less exacting; they did not attempt to +circumscribe his freedom. + +He gazed after her long. Now groups of other pedestrians intervened; +now her form reappeared sharp and narrow against the trees. From time +to time she stooped lovingly toward the old lady, who, as is the wont +of aged people, trod eagerly and fearfully. + +This fragile heap of bones, with the dull eyes and the sharp voice--he +remembered the voice well: it had had part in his decision. This +strange, unsympathetic, suspicious old woman, he would have had to +call "Mother." + +What madness! What hypocrisy! + +And yet his hunger for happiness, which had not yet died, reminded him +of all that might have been. + +A sea of warm, tender and unselfish love would have flooded him and +fructified and vivified the desert of his soul. And instead of +becoming withered and embittered, she would have blossomed at his side +more richly from day to day. + +Now it was too late. A long, thin, wretched little creature--she went +her way and was soon lost in the distance. + +But there clung to his soul the yearning for a woman--one who had more +of womanliness than its name and its body, more than the harlot whom +he kept because he was too slothful to drive her from him. + +He sought the depths of his memory. His life had been rich in gallant +adventures. Many a full-blooded young woman had thrown herself at him, +and had again vanished from his life under the compulsion of his +growing coldness. + +He loved his liberty. Even an unlawful relation felt like a fetter so +soon as it demanded any sacrifice of time or interests. Also, he did +not like to give less than he received. For, since the passing of his +unscrupulous youth, he had not cared to receive the gift of a human +destiny only to throw it aside as his whim demanded. + +And therefore his life had grown quiet during the last few years. + +He thought of one of his last loves ... the very last ... and smiled. + +The image of a delicately plump brunette little woman, with dreamy +eyes and delicious little curls around her ears, rose up before him. +She dwelt in his memory as she had seemed to him: modest, soulful, all +ecstatic yielding and charming simple-heartedness. + +She did not belong to society. He had met her at a dinner given by a +financial magnate. She was the wife of an upper clerk who was well +respected in the business world. With adoring curiosity, she peeped +into the great strange world, whose doors opened to her for the +first time. + +He took her to the table, was vastly entertained by the lack of +sophistication with which she received all these new impressions, and +smilingly accepted the undisguised adoration with which she regarded +him in his character of a famous horseman and rake. + +He flirted with her a bit and that turned her head completely. In +lonely dreams her yearning for elegant and phantastic sin had grown to +enormity. She was now so wholly and irresistibly intoxicated that he +received next morning a deliciously scribbled note in which she begged +him for a secret meeting--somewhere in the neighbourhood of the +_Arkona Place_ or _Weinmeisterstrasse_, regions as unknown to him as +the North Cape or Yokohama. + +Two or three meetings followed. She appeared, modest, anxious and in +love, a bunch of violets for his button-hole in her hand, and some +surprise for her husband in her pocket. + +Then the affair began to bore him and he refused an appointment. + +One evening, during the last days of November, she appeared, thickly +veiled, in his dwelling, and sank sobbing upon his breast. She could +not live without seeing him; she was half crazed with longing; he was +to do with her what he would. He consoled her, warmed her, and kissed +the melting snow from her hair. But when in his joy at what he +considered the full possession of a jewel his tenderness went beyond +hers, her conscience smote her. She was an honest woman. Horror and +shame would drive her into her grave if she went hence an adulteress. +He must have pity on her and be content with her pure adoration. + +He had the requisite pity, dismissed her with a paternal kiss upon her +forehead, but at the same time ordered his servant to admit her +no more. + +Then came two or three letters. In her agony over the thought of +losing him, she was willing to break down the last reserve. But he did +not answer the letters. + +At the same time the thought came to him of going up the Nile in a +dahabiyeh. He was bored and had a cold. + +On the evening of his departure he found her waiting in his rooms. + +"What do you want?" + +"Take me along." + +"How do you know?" + +"Take me along." + +She said nothing else. + +The necessity of comforting her was clear. A thoroughgoing farewell +was celebrated, with the understanding that it was a farewell forever. + +The pact had been kept. After his return and for two years more she +had given no sign of life. He now thought of this woman. He felt a +poignant longing for the ripe sweetness of her oval face, the veiled +depth of her voice. He desired once more to be embraced by her firm +arms, to be kissed by her mad, hesitating lips. + +Why had he dropped her? How could he have abandoned her so rudely? + +The thought came into his head of looking her up now, in this very +hour. + +He had a dim recollection of the whereabouts of her dwelling. He could +soon ascertain its exact situation. + +Then again the problems of his racing stable came into his head. The +thought of "Maidenhood," the newly purchased horse, worried him. He +had staked much upon one throw. If he lost, it would take time to +repair the damage. + +Suddenly he found himself in a tobacconist's shop, looking for her +name in the directory. _Friedrich-Wilhelm Strasse_ was the address. +Quite near, as he had surmised. + +He was not at loss for an excuse. Her husband must still be in his +office at this hour. He would not be asked for any very strict +accounting for his action. At worst there was an approaching riding +festival, for which he could request her cooperation. + +Perhaps she had forgotten him and would revenge herself for her +humiliation. Perhaps she would be insulted and not even receive him. +At best he must count upon coldness, bitter truths and that appearance +of hatred which injured love assumes. + +What did it matter? She was a woman, after all. + +The vestibule of the house was supported by pillars; its walls were +ornately stuccoed; the floor was covered with imitation oriental rugs. +It was the rented luxury with which the better middle-class loves to +surround itself. + +He ascended three flights of stairs. + +An elderly servant in a blue apron regarded the stranger suspiciously. + +He asked for her mistress. + +She would see. Holding his card gingerly, she disappeared. + +Now _he_ would see.... + +Then, as he bent forward, listening, he heard through the open door a +cry--not of horrified surprise, but of triumph and jubilation, such a +cry of sudden joy as only a long and hopeless and unrestrainable +yearning can send forth. + +He thought he had heard wrong, but the smiling face of the returning +servant reassured him. + +He was to be made welcome. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +He entered. With outstretched hands, tears in her eyes, her face +a-quiver with a vain attempt at equanimity--thus she came forward +to meet him. + +"There you are ... there you are ... you...." + +Overwhelmed and put to shame by her forgiveness and her happiness, he +stood before her in silence. + +What could he have said to her that would not have sounded either +coarse or trivial? + +And she demanded neither explanation nor excuse. + +He was here--that was enough for her. + +As he let his glance rest upon her, he confessed that his mental image +of her fell short of the present reality. + +She had grown in soul and stature. Her features bore signs of power +and restraint, and of a strong inner tension. Her eyes sought him with +a steady light; in her bosom battled the pent-up joy. + +She asked him to be seated. "In that corner," she said, and led him to +a tiny sofa covered with glittering, light-green silk, above which +hung a withered palm-leaf fan. + +"I have sat there so often," she went on, "so often, and have thought +of you, always--always. You'll drink tea, won't you?" + +He was about to refuse, but she interrupted him. + +"Oh, but you must, you must. You can't refuse! It has been my dream +all this time to drink tea with you here just once--just once. To +serve you on this little table and hand you the basket with cakes! Do +you see this little lacquer table, with the lovely birds of inlaid +mother-of-pearl? I had that given to me last Christmas for the +especial purpose of serving you tea on it. For I said to myself: 'He +is accustomed to the highest elegance.' And you are here and are going +to refuse? No, no, that's impossible. I couldn't bear that." + +And she flew to the door and called out her orders to the servant. + +He regarded her in happy astonishment. In all her movements there was +a rhythm of unconscious loveliness, such as he had rarely seen in any +woman. With simple, unconscious elegance, her dress flowed about her +taller figure, whose severe lines were softened by the womanly curves +of her limbs. And all that belonged to him. + +He could command this radiant young body and this radiant young soul. +All that was one hunger to be possessed by him. + +"Bind her to yourself," cried his soul, "and build yourself a new +happiness!" + +Then she returned. She stopped a few paces from him, folded her hands +under her chin, gazed at him wide-eyed and whispered: "There he is! +There he is!" + +He grew uncomfortable under this expense of passion. + +"I should wager that I sit here with a foolish face," he thought. + +"But now I'm going to be sensible," she went on, sitting down on a low +stool that stood next to the sofa. "And while the tea is steeping you +must tell me how things have gone with you all this long time. For it +is a very long time since ... Ah, a long time...." + +It seemed to him that there was a reproach behind these words. He gave +but a dry answer to her question, but threw the more warmth into his +inquiries concerning her life. + +She laughed and waved her hand. + +"Oh, I!" she cried. "I have fared admirably. Why should I not? Life +makes me as happy as though I were a child. Oh, I can always be +happy.... That's characteristic of me. Nearly every day brings +something new and usually something delightful.... And since I've been +in love with you.... You mustn't take that for a banal declaration of +passion, dear friend.... Just imagine you are merely my confidant, and +that I'm telling you of my distant lover who takes little notice of a +foolish woman like myself. But then, that doesn't matter so long as I +know that he is alive and can fear and pray for him; so long as the +same morning sun shines on us both. Why, do you know, it's a most +delicious feeling, when the morning is fair and the sun golden and one +may stand at the window and say: 'Thank God, it is a beautiful day +for him.'" + +He passed his hand over his forehead. + +"It isn't possible," he thought. "Such things don't exist in this +world." + +And she went on, not thinking that perhaps he, too, would want to +speak. + +"I don't know whether many people have the good fortune to be as happy +as I. But I am, thank God. And do you know, the best part of it all +and the sunniest, I owe to you. For instance: Summer before last we +went to Heligoland, last summer to Schwarzburg.... Do you know it? +Isn't it beautiful? Well, for instance: I wake up; I open my eyes to +the dawn. I get up softly, so as not to disturb my husband, and go on +my bare feet to the window. Without, the wooded mountains lie dark and +peaceful. There is a peace over it all that draws one's tears ... it +is so beautiful ... and behind, on the horizon, there shines a broad +path of gold. And the fir-trees upon the highest peaks are sharply +defined against the gold, like little men with many outstretched arms. +And already the early piping of a few birds is heard. And I fold my +hands and think: I wonder where he is.... And if he is asleep, has he +fair dreams? Ah, if he were here and could see all this loveliness. +And I think of _him_ with such impassioned intensity that it is not +hard to believe him here and able to see it all. And at last a chill +comes up, for it is always cool in the mountains, as you know.... And +then one slips back into bed, and is annoyed to think that one must +sleep four hours more instead of being up and thinking of him. And +when one wakes up for a second time, the sun throws its golden light +into the windows, and the breakfast table is set on the balcony. And +one's husband has been up quite a while, but waits patiently. And his +dear, peaceful face is seen through the glass door. At such moments +one's heart expands in gratitude to God who has made life so beautiful +and one can hardly bear one's own happiness--and--there is the tea." + +The elderly maid came in with a salver, which she placed on the piano, +in order to set the little table properly. A beautiful napkin of +damask silk lay ready. The lady of the house scolded jestingly. It +would injure the polish of the piano, and what was her guest to think +of such shiftlessness. + +The maid went out. + +She took up the tea-kettle, and asked in a voice full of bliss. + +"Strong or weak, dear master?" + +"Strong, please." + +"One or two lumps of sugar?" + +"Two lumps, please." + +She passed him the cup with a certain solemnity. + +"So this is the great moment, the pinnacle of all happiness as I have +dreamed of it! Now, tell me yourself: Am I not to be envied? Whatever +I wish is fulfilled. And, do you know, last year in Heligoland I had a +curious experience. We capsised by the dunes and I fell into the +water. As I lost consciousness, I thought that you were there and were +saving me. Later when I lay on the beach, I saw, of course, that it +had been only a stupid old fisherman. But the feeling was so wonderful +while it lasted that I almost felt like jumping into the water again. +Speaking of water, do you take rum in your tea?" + +He shook his head. Her chatter, which at first had enraptured him, +began to fill him with sadness. He did not know how to respond. His +youthfulness and flexibility of mind had passed from him long ago: he +had long lost any inner cheerfulness. + +And while she continued to chat, his thoughts wandered, like a horse, +on their accustomed path on the road of his daily worries. He thought +of an unsatisfactory jockey, of the nervous horse. + +What was this woman to him, after all? + +"By the way," he heard her say, "I wanted to ask you whether +'Maidenhood' has arrived?" + +He sat up sharply and stared at her. Surely he had heard wrong. + +"What do you know about 'Maidenhood'?" + +"But, my dear friend, do you suppose I haven't heard of your beautiful +horse, by 'Blue Devil' out of 'Nina'? Now, do you see? I believe I +know the grandparents, too. Anyhow, you are to be congratulated on +your purchase. The English trackmen are bursting with envy. To judge +by that, you ought to have an immense success." + +"But, for heaven's sake, how do you know all this?" + +"Dear me, didn't your purchase appear in all the sporting papers?" + +"Do you read those papers?" + +"Surely. You see, here is the last number of the _Spur_, and yonder is +the bound copy of the _German Sporting News_." + +"I see; but to what purpose?" + +"Oh, I'm a sporting lady, dear master. I look upon the world of +horses--is that the right expression?--with benevolent interest. I +hope that isn't forbidden?" + +"But you never told me a word about that before!" + +She blushed a little and cast her eyes down. + +"Oh, before, before.... That interest didn't come until later." + +He understood and dared not understand. + +"Don't look at me so," she besought him; there's nothing very +remarkable about it. I just said to myself: "Well, if he doesn't want +you, at least you can share his life from afar. That isn't immodest, +is it? And then the race meets were the only occasions on which I +could see you from afar. And whenever you yourself rode--oh, how my +heart beat--fit to burst. And when you won, oh, how proud I was! I +could have cried out my secret for all the world to hear. And my poor +husband's arm was always black and blue. I pinched him first in my +anxiety and then in my joy." + +"So your husband happily shares your enthusiasm?" + +"Oh, at first he wasn't very willing. But then, he is so good, so +good. And as I couldn't go to the races alone, why he just had to go +with me! And in the end he has become as great an enthusiast as I am. +We can sit together for hours and discuss the tips. And he just +admires you so--almost more than I. Oh, how happy he'd be to meet you +here. You mustn't refuse him that pleasure. And now you're laughing at +me. Shame on you!" + +"I give you my word that nothing--" + +"Oh, but you smiled. I saw you smile." + +"Perhaps. But assuredly with no evil intention. And now you'll permit +me to ask a serious question, won't you?" + +"But surely!" + +"Do you love your husband?" + +"Why, of course I love him. You don't know him, or you wouldn't ask. +How could I help it? We're like two children together. And I don't +mean anything silly. We're like that in hours of grief, too. Sometimes +when I look at him in his sleep--the kind, careworn forehead, the +silent serious mouth--and when I think how faithfully and carefully he +guides me, how his one dreaming and waking thought is for my +happiness--why, then I kneel down and kiss his hands till he wakes up. +Once he thought it was our little dog, and murmured 'Shoo, shoo!' Oh, +how we laughed! And if you imagine that such a state of affairs can't +be reconciled with my feeling for you, why, then you're quite wrong. +_That_ is upon an entirely different plane." + +"And your life is happy?" + +"Perfectly, perfectly." + +Radiantly she folded her hands. + +She did not suspect her position on the fearful edge of an abyss. She +had not yet realised what his coming meant, nor how defenceless +she was. + +He had but to stretch out his arms and she would fly to him, ready to +sacrifice her fate to his mood. And this time there would be no +returning to that well-ordered content. + +A dull feeling of responsibility arose in him and paralysed his will. +Here was all that he needed in order to conquer a few years of new +freshness and joy for the arid desert of his life. Here was the spring +of life for which he was athirst. And he had not the courage to touch +it with his lips. + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +A silence ensued in which their mood threatened to darken and grow +turbid. + +Then he pulled himself together. + +"You don't ask me why I came, dear friend." + +She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. + +"A moment's impulse--or loneliness. That's all." + +"And a bit of remorse, don't you think so?" + +"Remorse? For what? You have nothing with which to reproach yourself. +Was not our agreement made to be kept?" + +"And yet I couldn't wholly avoid the feeling as if my unbroken silence +must have left a sting in your soul which would embitter your +memory of me." + +Thoughtfully she stirred her tea. + +"No," she said at last, "I'm not so foolish. The memory of you is a +sacred one. If that were not so, how could I have gone on living? That +time, to be sure, I wanted to take my life. I had determined on that +before I came to you. For that one can leave the man with whom.... I +never thought that possible.... But one learns a good deal--a good +deal.... And now I'll tell you how it came to pass that I didn't take +my life that night. When everything was over, and I stood in the +street before your house, I said to myself: 'Now the river is all that +is left.' In spite of rain and storm, I took an open cab and drove out +to the _Tiergarten_. Wasn't the weather horrible! At the _Great Star_ +I left the cab and ran about in the muddy ways, weeping, weeping. I +was blind with tears, and lost my way. I said to myself that I would +die at six. There were still four minutes left. I asked a policeman +the way to _Bellevue_, for I did remember that the river flows hard +behind the castle. The policeman said: 'There it is. The hour is +striking in the tower now.' And when I heard the clock strike, the +thought came to me: 'Now my husband is coming home, tired and hungry, +and I'm not there. If at least he wouldn't let his dinner get cold. +But of course he will wait. He'd rather starve than eat without me. +And he'll be frightened more and more as the hours pass. Then he'll +run to the police. And next morning he'll be summoned by telegram to +the morgue. There he'll break down helplessly and hopelessly and I +won't be able to console him.' And when I saw that scene in my mind, I +called out: 'Cab! cab!' But there was no cab. So I ran back to the +_Great Star_, and jumped into the street-car, and rode home and rushed +into his arms and cried my fill." + + +"And had your husband no questions to ask? Did he entertain no +suspicion?" + +"Oh, no, he knows me, I am taken that way sometimes. If anything moves +or delights me deeply--a lovely child on the street--you see, I +haven't any--or some glorious music, or sometimes only the park in +spring and some white statue in the midst of the greenery. Oh, +sometimes I seem to feel my very soul melt, and then he lays his cool, +firm hand on my forehead and I am healed." + +"And were you healed on that occasion, too?" + +"Yes. I was calmed at once. 'Here,' I said to myself, 'is this dear, +good man, to whom you can be kind. And as far as the other is +concerned, why it was mere mad egoism to hope to have a share in his +life. For to give love means, after all, to demand love. And what can +a poor, supersensitive thing like you mean to him? He has others. He +need but stretch forth his hand, and the hearts of countesses and +princesses are his!'" + +"Dear God," he thought, and saw the image of the purchasable harlot, +who was supposed to satisfy his heart's needs. + +But she chatted on, and bit by bit built up for him the image of him +which she had cherished during these two years. All the heroes of +Byron, Poushkine, Spielhagen and Scott melted into one glittering +figure. There was no splendour of earth with which her generous +imagination had not dowered him. + +He listened with a melancholy smile, and thought: "Thank God, she +doesn't know me. If I didn't take a bit of pleasure in my stable, the +contrast would be too terrible to contemplate." + +And there was nothing forward, nothing immodest, in this joyous +enthusiasm. It was, in fact, as if he were a mere confidant, and she +were singing a hymn in praise of her beloved. + +And thus she spared him any feeling of shame. + +But what was to happen now? + +It went without saying that this visit must have consequences of some +sort. It was her right to demand that he do not, for a second time, +take her up and then fling her aside at the convenience of a +given hour. + +Almost timidly he asked after her thoughts of the future. + +"Let's not speak of it. You won't come back, anyhow." + +"How can you think...." + +"Oh, no, you won't come back. And what is there here for you? Do you +want to be adored by me? You spoiled gentlemen soon tire of that sort +of thing.... Or would you like to converse with my husband? That +wouldn't amuse you. He's a very silent man and his reserve thaws only +when he is alone with me.... But it doesn't matter.... You have been +here. And the memory of this hour will always be dear and precious to +me. Now, I have something more in which my soul can take pleasure." + +A muffled pain stirred in him. He felt impelled to throw himself at +her feet and bury his head in her lap. But he respected the majesty of +her happiness. + +"And if I myself desired...." + +That was all he said; all he dared to say. The sudden glory in her +face commanded his silence. Under the prudence which his long +experience dictated, his mood grew calmer. + +But she had understood him. + +In silent blessedness, she leaned her head against the wall. Then she +whispered, with closed eyes: "It is well that you said no more. I +might grow bold and revive hopes that are dead. But if you...." + +She raised her eyes to his. A complete surrender to his will lay in +her glance. + +Then she raised her head with a listening gesture. + +"My husband," she said, after she had fought down a slight involuntary +fright, and said it with sincere joy. + +Three glowing fingers barely touched his. Then she hastened to the +door. + +"Guess who is here," she called out; "guess!" + +On the threshold appeared a sturdy man of middle size and middle age. +His round, blonde beard came to a grayish point beneath the chin. His +thin cheeks were yellow, but with no unhealthful hue. His quiet, +friendly eyes gleamed behind glasses that sat a trifle too far down +his nose, so that in speaking his head was slightly thrown back and +his lids drawn. + +With quiet astonishment he regarded the elegant stranger. Coming +nearer, however, he recognised him at once in spite of the twilight, +and, a little confused with pleasure, stretched out his hand. + +Upon his tired, peaceful features, there was no sign of any sense of +strangeness, any desire for an explanation. + +Stueckrath realized that toward so simple a nature craft would have +been out of place, and simply declared that he had desired to renew an +acquaintance which he had always remembered with much pleasure. + +"I don't want to speak of myself, Baron," the man replied, "but you +probably scarcely realise what pleasure you are giving my wife." And +he nodded down at her who stood beside him, apparently unconcerned +except for her wifely joy. + +A few friendly words were exchanged. Further speech was really +superfluous, since the man's unassailable innocence demanded no +caution. But Stueckrath was too much pleased with him to let him feel +his insignificance by an immediate departure. + +Hence he sat a little longer, told of his latest purchases, and was +shamed by the satisfaction with which the man rehearsed the history of +his stable. + +He did not neglect the courtesy of asking them both to call on him, +and took his leave, accompanied by the couple to the door. He could +not decide which of the two pressed his hand more warmly. + +When in the darkness of the lower hall he looked upward, he saw two +faces which gazed after him with genuine feeling. + + * * * * * + +Out amid the common noises of the street he had the feeling as though +he had returned from some far island of alien seas into the wonted +current of life. + +He shuddered at the thought of what lay before him. + +Then he went toward the _Tiergarten_. A red afterglow eddied amid the +trees. In the sky gleamed a harmony of delicate blue tints, shading +into green. Great white clouds towered above, but rested upon the +redness of the sunset. + +The human stream flooded as always between the flickering, starry +street-lamps of the _Tiergartenstrasse_. Each man and woman sought to +wrest a last hour of radiance from the dying day. + +Dreaming, estranged, Stueckrath made his way through the crowd, and +hurriedly sought a lonely footpath that disappeared in the darkness of +the foliage. + +Again for a moment the thought seared him: "Take her and rebuild the +structure of your life." + +But when he sought to hold the thought and the accompanying emotion, +it was gone. Nothing remained but a flat after taste--the dregs of a +weary intoxication. + +The withered leaves rustled beneath his tread. Beside the path +glimmered the leaf-flecked surface of a pool. + +"It would be a crime, to be sure," he said to himself, "to shatter the +peace of those two poor souls. But, after all, life is made up of such +crimes. The life of one is the other's death; one's happiness the +other's wretchedness. If only I could be sure that some happiness +would result, that the sacrifice of their idyl would bring +some profit." + +But he had too often had the discouraging and disappointing experience +that he had become incapable of any strong and enduring emotion. What +had he to offer that woman, who, in a mixture of passion, and naive +unmorality of soul, had thrown herself at his breast? The shallow +dregs of a draught, a power to love that had been wasted in sensual +trifling--emptiness, weariness, a longing for sensation and a longing +for repose. That was all the gift he could bring her. + +And how soon would he be satiated! + +Any sign of remorse or of fear in her would suffice to make her a +burden, even a hated burden! + +"Be her good angel," he said to himself, "and let her be." He whistled +and the sound was echoed by the trees. + +He sought a bench on which to sit down, and lit a cigarette. As the +match flared up, he became conscious of the fact that night +had fallen. + +A great quietude rested upon the dying forest. Like the strains of a +beautifully perishing harmony the sound of the world's distant strife +floated into this solitude. + +Attentively Stueckrath observed the little point of glowing fire in +his hand, from which eddied upward a wreath of fragrant smoke. + +"Thank God," he said, "that at least remains--one's cigarette." + +Then he arose and wandered thoughtfully onward. + +Without knowing how he had come there, he found himself suddenly in +front of his mistress's dwelling. + +Light shimmered in her windows--the raspberry coloured light of red +curtains which loose women delight in. + +"Pah!" he said and shuddered. + +But, after all, up there a supper table was set for him; there was +laughter and society, warmth and a pair of slippers. + +He opened the gate. + +A chill wind rattled in the twigs of the trees and blew the dead +leaves about in conical whirls. They fluttered along like wandering +shadows, only to end in some puddle ... + +Autumn ... + + + + + +MERRY FOLK + + +The Christmas tree bent heavily forward. The side which was turned to +the wall had been hard to reach, and had hence not been adorned richly +enough to keep the equilibrium of the tree against the weighty twigs +of the front. + +Papa noted this and scolded. "What would Mamma say if she saw that? +You know, Brigitta, that Mamma doesn't love carelessness. If the tree +falls over, think how ashamed we shall be." + +Brigitta flushed fiery red. She clambered up the ladder once more, +stretched her arms forth as far as possible, and hung on the other +side of the tree all that she could gather. There _had_ been very +little there. But then one couldn't see.... + +And now the lights could be lit. + +"Now we will look through the presents," said Papa. "Which is Mamma's +plate?" + +Brigitta showed it to him. + +This time he was satisfied. "It's a good thing that you've put so much +marchpane on it," he said. "You know she always loves to have +something to give away." Then lie inspected the polished safety lock +that lay next to the plate and caressed the hard leaves of the potted +palm that shadowed Mamma's place at the Christmas table. + +"You have painted the flower vase for her?" he asked. + +Brigitta nodded. + +"It is exclusively for roses," she said, "and the colours are burned +in and will stand any kind of weather." + +"What the boys have made for Mamma they can bring her themselves. Have +you put down the presents from her?" + +Surely she had done so. For Fritz, there was a fishing-net and a +ten-bladed knife; for Arthur a turning lathe with foot-power, and in +addition a tall toy ship with a golden-haired nymph as figurehead. + +"The mermaid will make an impression," said Papa and laughed. + +There was something else which Brigitta had on her conscience. She +stuck her firm little hands under her apron, which fell straight down +over her flat little chest, and tripped up and down on her heels. + +"I may as well betray the secret," she said. "Mamma has something for +you, too." Papa was all ear. "What is it?" he asked, and looked over +his place at the table, where nothing was noticeable in addition to +Brigitta's fancy work. + +Brigitta ran to the piano and pulled forth from under it a paper +wrapped box, about two feet in height, which seemed singularly light +for its size. + +When the paper wrappings had fallen aside, a wooden cage appeared, in +which sat a stuffed bird that glittered with all the colours of the +rainbow. His plumage looked as though the blue of the sky and the gold +of the sun had been caught in it. + +"A roller!" Papa cried, clapping his hands, and something like joy +twitched about his mouth. "And she gives me this rare specimen?" + +"Yes," said Brigitta, "it was found last autumn in the throstle +springe. The manager kept it for me until now. And because it is so +beautiful, and, one might really say, a kind of bird of paradise, +therefore Mamma gives it to you." + +Papa stroked her blonde hair and again her face flushed. + +"So; and now we'll call the boys," he said. + +"First let me put away my apron," she cried, loosened the pin and +threw the ugly black thing under the piano where the cage had been +before. Now she stood there in her white communion dress, with its +blue ribands, and made a charming little grimace. + +"You have done quite right," said Papa. "Mamma does not like dark +colours. Everything about her is to be bright and gay." + +Now the boys were permitted to come in. + +They held their beautifully written Christmas poems carefully in their +hands and rubbed their sides timidly against the door-posts. + +"Come, be cheerful," said Papa. "Do you think your heads will be torn +off to-day?" + +And then he took them both into his arms and squeezed them a little so +that Arthur's poetry was crushed right down the middle. + +That was a misfortune, to be sure. But Papa consoled the boy, saying +that he would be responsible since it was his fault. + +Brueggemann, the long, lean private tutor, now stuck his head in the +door, too. He had on his most solemn long coat, nodded sadly like one +bidden to a funeral, and sniffed through his nose: + +"Yes--yes--yes--yes--" + +"What are you sighing over so pitiably, you old weeping-willow?" Papa +said, laughing. "There are only merry folk here. Isn't it so, +Brigitta?" + +"Of course that is so," the girl said. "And here, Doctor, is your +Christmas plate." She led him to his place where a little purse of +calf's leather peeped modestly out from, under the cakes. + +"This is your present from Mamma," she continued, handing him a long, +dark-covered book. "It is 'The Three Ways to Peace,' which you always +admired so much." + +The learned gentleman hid a tear of emotion but squinted again at the +little pocket-book. This represented the fourth way to peace, for he +had old beer debts. + +The servants were now ushered in, too. First came Mrs. Poensgen, the +housekeeper, who carried in her crooked, scarred hands a little +flower-pot with Alpine violets. + +"This is for Mamma," she said to Brigitta, who took the pot from her +and led her to her own place. There were many good things, among them +a brown knitted sweater, such as she had long desired, for in the +kitchen an east wind was wont to blow through the cracks. + +Mrs. Poensgen saw the sweater as rapidly as Brueggemann had seen the +purse. And when Brigitta said: "That is, of course, from Mamma," the +old woman was not in the least surprised. For in her fifteen years of +service she had discovered that the best things always came +from Mamma. + +The two boys, in the meantime, were anxious to ease their consciences +and recite their poems. They stood around Papa. + +He was busy with the inspectors of the estate, and did not notice them +for a moment. Then he became aware of his oversight and took the +sheets from their hands, laughing and regretting his neglect. Fritz +assumed the proper attitude, and Papa did the same, but when the +latter saw the heading of the poem: "To his dear parents at +Christmastide," he changed his mind and said: "Let's leave that till +later when we are with Mamma." + +And so the boys could go on to their places. And as their joy +expressed itself at first in a happy silence, Papa stepped up behind +them and shook them and said: "Will you be merry, you little scamps? +What is Mamma to think if you're not!" + +That broke the spell which had held them heretofore. Fritz set his +net, and when Arthur discovered a pinnace on his man-of-war, the +feeling of immeasurable wealth broke out in jubilation. + +But this is the way of the heart. Scarcely had they discovered their +own wealth but they turned in desire to that which was not for them. + +Arthur had discovered the shiny patent lock that lay between Mamma's +plate and his own. It seemed uncertain whether it was for him or her. +He felt pretty well assured that it was not for him; on the other +hand, he couldn't imagine what use she could put it to. Furthermore, +he was interested in it, since it was made upon a certain model. It is +not for nothing that one is an engineer with all one's heart and mind. + +Now, Fritz tried to give an expert opinion, too. He considered it a +combination Chubb lock. Of course that was utter nonsense. But then +Fritz would sometimes talk at random. + +However that may be, this lock was undoubtedly the finest thing of +all. And when one turned the key in it, it gave forth a soft, slow, +echoing tone, as though a harp-playing spirit sat in its steel body. + +But Papa came and put an end to their delight. + +"What are you thinking of, you rascals?" he said in jesting reproach. +"Instead of giving poor Mamma something for Christmas, you want to +take the little that she has." + +At that they were mightily ashamed. And Arthur said that of course +they had something for Mamma, only they had left it in the hall, so +that they could take it at once when they went to her. + +"Get it in," said Papa, "in order that her place may not look so +meager." They ran out and came back with their presents. + +Fritz had carved a flower-pot holder. It consisted of six parts, which +dove-tailed delicately into each other. But that was nothing compared +to Arthur's ventilation window, which was woven of horse hair. + +Papa was delighted. "Now we needn't be ashamed to be seen," he said. +Then, too, he explained to them the mechanism of the lock, and told +them that its purpose was to guard dear Mamma's flowers better. For +recently some of her favourite roses had been stolen and the only way +to account for it was that some one had a pass key. + +"So, and now we'll go to her at last," he concluded. "We have kept her +waiting long. And we will be happy with her, for happiness is the +great thing, as Mamma says.... Get us the key, Brigitta, to the gate +and the chapel." + +And Brigitta got the key to the gate and the chapel. + + + + + +THEA + +_A Phantasy over the Samovar_ + + + + +Chapter I. + + +She is a faery and yet she is none.... But she is my faery surely. + +She has appeared to me only in a few moments of life when I least +expected her. + +And when I desired to hold her, she vanished. + +Yet has she often dwelt near me. I felt her in the breath of winter +winds sweeping over sunny fields of snow; I breathed her presence in +the morning frost that clung, glittering, to my beard; I saw the +shadow of her gigantic form glide over the smoky darkness of heaven +which hung with the quietude of hopelessness over the dull white +fields; I heard the whispering of her voice in the depths of the +shining tea urn surrounded by a dancing wreath of spirit flames. + +But I must tell the story of those few times when she stood bodily +before me--changed of form and yet the same--my fate, my future as it +should have been and was not, my fear and my trust, my good and my +evil star. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was many, many years ago on a late evening near Epiphany. + +Without whirled the snow. The flakes came fluttering to the windows +like endless swarms of moths. Silently they touched the panes and then +glided straight down to earth as though they had broken their wings in +the impact. + +The lamp, old and bad for the eyes, stood on the table with its +polished brass foot and its raveled green cloth shade. The oil in the +tank gurgled dutifully. Black fragments gathered on the wick, which +looked like a stake over which a few last flames keep watch. + +Yonder in the shabby upholstered chair my mother had fallen into a +doze. Her knitting had dropped from her hands and lay on the +flower-patterned apron. The wool-thread cut a deep furrow in the skin +of her rough forefinger. One of the needles swung behind her ear. + +The samovar with its bellied body and its shining chimney stood on a +side table. From time to time a small, pale-blue cloud of steam +whirled upward, and a gentle odour of burning charcoal tickled +my nostrils. + +Before me on the table lay open Sallust's "Catilinarian Conspiracy!" +But what did I care for Sallust? Yonder on the book shelf, laughing +and alluring in its gorgeous cover stood the first novel that I ever +read--"The Adventures of Baron Muenchausen!" + +Ten pages more to construe. Then I was free. I buried my hands deep +into my breeches pockets, for I was cold. Only ten pages more. + +Yearningly I stared at my friend. + +And behold, the bookbinder's crude ornamentation--ungraceful +arabesques of vine leaves which wreathe about broken columns, a rising +sun caught in a spider's web of rays--all that configuration begins to +spread and distend until it fills the room. The vine leaves tremble in +a morning wind; a soft blowing shakes the columns, and higher and +higher mounts the sun. Like a dance of flickering torches his rays +shoot to and fro, his glistening arms are outstretched as though they +would grasp the world and pull it to the burning bosom of the sun. And +a great roaring arises in the air, muffled and deep as distant organ +strains. It rises to the blare of trumpets, it quivers with the clash +of cymbals. + +Then the body of the sun bursts open. A bluish, phosphorescent flame +hisses forth. Upon this flame stands erect in fluttering _chiton_ a +woman, fair and golden haired, swan's wings at her shoulders, a harp +held in her hand. + +She sees me and her face is full of laughter. Her laughter sounds +simple, childlike, arch. And surely, it is a child's mouth from which +it issues. The innocent blue eyes look at me in mad challenge. The +firm cheeks glow with the delight of life. Heavens! What is this +child's head doing on that body? She throws the harp upon the clouds, +sits down on the strings, scratches her little nose swiftly with her +left wing and calls out to me: "Come, slide with me!" + +I stare at her open-mouthed. Then I gather all my courage and stammer: +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Thea," she giggles. + +"But _who_ are you?" I ask again. + +"Who? Nonsense. Come, pull me! But no; you can't fly. I'll pull you. +That will go quicker." + +And she arises. Heavens! What a form! Magnificently the hips curve +over the fallen girdle; in how noble a line are throat and bosom +married. No sculptor can achieve the like. + +With her slender fingers she grasps the blue, embroidered riband that +is attached to the neck of the harp. She grasps it with the gesture of +one who is about to pull a sleigh. + +"Come," she cries again. I dare not understand her. Awkwardly I crouch +on the strings. + +"I might break them," I venture. + +"You little shaver," she laughs. "Do you know how light you are? And +now, hold fast!" + +I have scarcely time to grasp the golden frame with both hands. I hear +a mighty rustling in front of me. The mighty wings unfold. My sleigh +floats and billows in the air. Forward and upward goes the +roaring flight. + +Far, far beneath me lies the paternal hut. Scarcely does its light +penetrate to my height. Gusts of snow whirl about my forehead. Next +moment the light is wholly lost. Dawn breaks through the night. A warm +wind meets us and blows upon the strings so that they tremble gently +and lament like a sleeping child whose soul is troubled by a dream of +loneliness. + +"Look down!" cried my faery, turning her laughing little head toward +me. + +Bathed in the glow of spring I see an endless carpet of woods and +hills, fields and lakes spread out below me. The landscape gleams with +a greenish silveriness. My glance can scarcely endure the richness of +the miracle. + +"But it has become spring," I say trembling. + +"Would you like to go down?" she asks. + +"Yes, yes." + +At once we glide downward. "Guess what that is!" she says. + +An old, half-ruined castle rears its granite walls before me.... A +thousand year old ivy wreathes about its gables.... Black and white +swallows dart about the roofs.... All about arises a thicket of +hawthorn in full bloom.... Wild roses emerge from the darkness, +innocently agleam like children's eyes. A sleepy tree bends its boughs +above them. + +There is life at the edge of the ancient terrace where broad-leaved +clover grows in the broken urns. A girlish form, slender and lithe, +swinging a great, old-fashioned straw hat, having a shawl wound +crosswise over throat and waist, has stepped forth from the decaying +old gate. She carries a little white bundle under her arm, and looks +tentatively to the right and to the left as one who is about to go on +a journey. + +"Look at her," says my friend. + +The scales fall from my eyes. + +"That is Lisbeth," I cried out in delight, "who is going to the +mayor's farm." + +Scarcely have I mentioned that farm but a fragrance of roasting meat +rises up to me. Clouds of smoke roll toward me, dim flames quiver up +from it. There is a sound of roasting and frying and the seething fat +spurts high. No wonder; there's going to be a wedding. "Would you +like to see the executioner's sword?" my friend asks. + +A mysterious shudder runs down my limbs. + +"I'd like to well enough," I say fearfully. + +A rustle, a soft metallic rattle--and we are in a small, bare +chamber.... Now it is night again and the moonlight dances on the +rough board walls. + +"Look there," whispers my friend and points to a plump old chest. + +Her laughing face has grown severe and solemn. Her body seems to have +grown. Noble and lordly as a judge she stands before me. + +I stretch my neck; I peer at the chest. + +There it lies, gleaming and silent, the old sword. A beam of moonlight +glides along the old blade, drawing a long, straight line. But what do +those dark spots mean which have eaten hollows into the metal? + +"That is blood," says my friend and crosses her arms upon her breast. + +I shiver but my eyes seem to have grown fast to the terrible image. + +"Come," says Thea. + +"I can't." + +"Do you want it?" + +"What? The sword?" + +She nods. "But may you give it away? Does it belong to you?" + +"I may do anything. Everything belongs to me." + +A horror grips me with its iron fist. "Give it to me!" I cry +shuddering. + +The iron lightening gleams up and it lies cold and moist in my arms. +It seems to me as though the blood upon it began to flow afresh. + +My arms feel dead, the sword falls from them and sinks upon the +strings. These begin to moan and sing. Their sounds are almost like +cries of pain. + +"Take care," cries my friend. "The sword may rend the strings; it is +heavier than you." + +We fly out into the moonlit night. But our flight is slower than +before. My friend breathes hard and the harp swings to and fro like a +paper kite in danger of fluttering to earth. + +But I pay no attention to all that. Something very amusing captures my +senses. + +Something has become alive in the moon which floats, a golden disc, +amid the clouds. Something black and cleft twitches to and fro on her +nether side. I look more sharply and discover a pair of old +riding-boots in which stick two long, lean legs. The leather on the +inner side of the boots is old and worn and glimmers with a dull +discoloured light. "Since when does the moon march on legs through +the world?" I ask myself and begin to laugh. And suddenly I see +something black on the upper side of the moon--something that wags +funnily up and down. I strain my eyes and recognise my old friend +Muenchausen's phantastic beard and moustache. He has grasped the edges +of the moon's disc with his long lean fingers and laughs, laughs. + +"I want to go there," I call to my friend. + +She turns around. Her childlike face has now become grave and madonna +like. She seems to have aged by years. Her words echo in my ear like +the sounds of broken chimes. + +"He who carries the sword cannot mount to the moon." + +My boyish stubbornness revolts. "But I want to get to my friend +Muenchausen." + +"He who carries the sword has no friend." + +I jump up and tug at the guiding riband. The harp capsises.... I fall +into emptiness ... the sword above me ... it penetrates my body ... I +fall ... I fall.... + +"Yes, yes," says my mother, "why do you call so fearfully? I am +awake." + +Calmly she took the knitting-needle from behind her ear, stuck it into +the wool and wrapped the unfinished stocking about it. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Six years passed. Then Thea met me again. She had been gracious enough +to leave her home in the island valley of Avilion, to play the +soubrette parts in the theatre of the university town in which I was +fencing and drinking for the improvement of my mind. + +Upon her little red shoes she tripped across the stage. She let her +abbreviated skirts wave in the boldest curves. She wore black silk +stockings which flowed about her delicate ankles in ravishing lines +and disappeared all too soon, just above the knee, under the hem of +her skirt. She plaited herself two thick braids of hair the blue +ribands of which she loved to chew when the modesty that belonged to +her part overwhelmed her. She sucked her thumb, she stuck out her +tongue, she squeaked and shrieked and turned up her little nose. And, +oh, how she laughed. It was that sweet, sophisticated, vicious +soubrette laughter which begins with the musical scale and ends in +a long coo. + +Show me the man among us whom she cannot madden into love with all the +traditional tricks of her trade. Show me the student who did not keep +glowing odes deep-buried in his lecture notes--deep-buried as the +gigantic grief of some heroic soul.... + +And one afternoon she appeared at the skating rink. She wore a +gleaming plush jacket trimmed with sealskin, and a fur cap which sat +jauntily over her left ear. The hoar frost clung like diamond dust to +the reddish hair that framed her cheeks, and her pink little nose +sniffed up the cold air. + +After she had made a scene with the attendant who helped her on with +her shoes, during which such expressions as "idiot," had escaped her +sweet lips, she began to skate. A child, just learning to walk, could +have done better. + +We foolish boys stood about and stared at her. + +The desire to help her waxed in us to the intensity of madness. But +when pouting she stretched out her helpless arms at us, we recoiled as +before an evil spirit. Not one of us found the courage simply to +accept the superhuman bliss for which he had been hungering by day and +night for months. + +Then suddenly--at an awful curve--she caught her foot, stumbled, +wavered first forward and then backward and finally fell into the arms +of the most diffident and impassioned of us all. + +And that was I. + +Yes, that was I. To this day my fists are clenched with rage at the +thought that it might have been another. + +Among those who remained behind as I led her away in triumph there was +not one who could not have slain me with a calm smile. + +Under the impact of the words which she wasted upon my unworthy self, +I cast down my eyes, smiling and blushing. Then I taught her how to +set her feet and showed off my boldest manoeuvres. I also told her +that I was a student in my second semester and that it was my ambition +to be a poet. + +"Isn't that sweet?" she exclaimed. "I suppose you write poetry +already?" + +I certainly did. I even had a play in hand which treated of the fate +of the troubadour Bernard de Ventadours in rhymeless, irregular verse. + +"Is there a part for me in it?" she asked. + +"No," I answered, "but it doesn't matter. I'll put one in." + +"Oh, how sweet that is of you!" she cried. "And do you know? You must +read me the play. I can help you with my practical knowledge of +the stage." + +A wave of bliss under which I almost suffocated, poured itself out +over me. + +"I have also written poems--to you!" I stammered. The wave carried me +away. "Think of that," she said quite kindly instead of boxing my +ears. "You must send them to me." + +"Surely."... + +And then I escorted her to the door while my friends followed us at a +seemly distance like a pack of wolves. + +The first half of the night I passed ogling beneath her window; the +second half at my table, for I wanted to enrich the packet to be sent +her by some further lyric pearls. At the peep of dawn I pushed the +envelope, tight as a drum with its contents, into the pillar box and +went to cool my burning head on the ramparts. + +On that very afternoon came a violet-tinted little letter which had an +exceedingly heady fragrance and bore instead of a seal a golden lyre +transfixed by a torch. It contained the following lines: + +"DEAR POET: + +"Your verses aren't half bad; only too fiery. I'm really in a hurry to +hear your play. My old chaperone is going out this evening. I will be +at home alone and will, therefore, be bored. So come to tea at seven. +But you must give me your word of honour that you do not give away +this secret. Otherwise I won't care for you the least bit. + +"Your THEA." Thus did she write, I swear it--she, my faery, my Muse, +my Egeria, she to whom I desired to look up in adoration to the last +drawing of my breath. + +Swiftly I revised and corrected and recited several scenes of my play. +I struck out half a dozen superfluous characters and added a +dozen others. + +At half past six I set out on my way. A thick, icy fog lay in the air. +Each person that I met was covered by a cloud of icy breath. + +I stopped in front of a florist's shop. + +All the treasures of May lay exposed there on little terraces of black +velvet. There were whole beds of violets and bushes of snow-drops. +There was a great bunch of long-stemmed roses, carelessly held +together by a riband of violet silk. + +I sighed deeply. I knew why I sighed. + +And then I counted my available capital: Eight marks and seventy +pfennigs. Seven beer checks I have in addition. But these, alas, are +good only at my inn--for fifteen pfennigs worth of beer a piece. + +At last I take courage and step into the shop. + +"What is the price of that bunch of roses?" I whisper. I dare not +speak aloud, partly by reason of the great secret and partly through +diffidence. "Ten marks," says the fat old saleswoman. She lets the +palm leaves that lie on her lap slip easily into an earthen vessel and +proceeds to the window to fetch the roses. + +I am pale with fright. My first thought is: Run to the inn and try to +exchange your checks for cash. You can't borrow anything two days +before the first of the month. + +Suddenly I hear the booming of the tower clock. + +"Can't I get it a little cheaper?" I ask half-throttled. + +"Well, did you ever?" she says, obviously hurt. "There are ten roses +in the bunch; they cost a mark a piece at this time. We throw in +the riband." + +I am disconsolate and am about to leave the shop. But the old +saleswoman who knows her customers and has perceived the tale of love +lurking under my whispering and my hesitation, feels a human sympathy. + +"You might have a few roses taken out," she says. "How much would you +care to expend, young man?" + +"Eight marks and seventy pfennigs," I am about to answer in my folly. +Fortunately it occurs to me that I must keep out a tip for her maid. +The ladies of the theatre always have maids. And I might leave late. +"Seven marks," I answer therefore. + +With quiet dignity the woman extracts _four_ roses from my bunch and I +am too humble and intimidated to protest. + +But my bunch is still rich and full and I am consoled to think that a +wooing prince cannot do better. + +Five minutes past seven I stand before her door. + +Need I say that my breath gives out, that I dare not knock, that the +flowers nearly fall from my nerveless hand? All that is a matter of +course to anyone who has ever, in his youth, had dealings with faeries +of Thea's stamp. + +It is a problem to me to this day how I finally did get into her room. +But already I see her hastening toward me with laughter and burying +her face in the roses. + +"O you spendthrift!" she cries and tears the flowers from my hand in +order to pirouette with them before the mirror. And then she assumes a +solemn expression and takes me by a coat button, draws me nearer and +says: "So, and now you may kiss me as a reward." + +I hear and cannot grasp my bliss. My heart seems to struggle out at my +throat, but hard before me bloom her lips. I am brave and kiss her. +"Oh," she says, "your beard is full of snow." + +"My beard! Hear it, ye gods! Seriously and with dignity she speaks of +my beard." + +A turbid sense of being a kind of Don Juan or Lovelace arises in me. +My self-consciousness assumes heroic dimensions, and I begin to regard +what is to come with a kind of daemonic humour. + +The mist that has hitherto blurred my vision departs. I am able to +look about me and to recognise the place where I am. + +To be sure, that is a new and unsuspected world--from the rosy silken +gauze over the toilet mirror that hangs from the beaks of two floating +doves, to the row of exquisite little laced boots that stands in the +opposite corner. From the candy boxes of satin, gold, glass, saffron, +ivory, porcelain and olive wood which adorn the dresser to the edges +of white billowy skirts which hang in the next room but have been +caught in the door--I see nothing but miracles, miracles. + +A maddening fragrance assaults my senses, the same which her note +exhaled. But now that fragrance streams from her delicate, graceful +form in its princess gown of pale yellow with red bows. She dances and +flutters about the room with so mysterious and elf-like a grace as +though she were playing Puck in the "Midsummer Night's Dream," the +part in which she first enthralled my heart. + +Ah, yes, she meant to get tea. + +"Well, why do you stand there so helplessly, you horrid creature? +Come! Here is a tablecloth, here are knives and forks. I'll light the +spirit lamp in the meantime." + +And she slips by me not without having administered a playful tap to +my cheek and vanishes in the dark room of mystery. + +I am about to follow her, but out of the darkness I hear a laughing +voice: "Will you stay where you are, Mr. Curiosity?" + +And so I stand still on the threshold and lay my head against those +billowy skirts. They are fresh and cool and ease my burning forehead. + +Immediately thereafter I see the light of a match flare up in the +darkness, which for a moment sharply illuminates the folds of her +dress and is then extinguished. Only a feeble, bluish flame remains. +This flame plays about a polished little urn and illuminates dimly the +secrets of the forbidden sanctuary. I see bright billowy garments, +bunches of flowers and wreaths of leaves, with long, silken, +shimmering bands--and suddenly the Same flares high.... + +"Now I've spilt the alcohol," I hear the voice of my friend. But her +laughter is full of sarcastic arrogance. "Ah, that'll be a play of +fire!" Higher and higher mount the flames. + +"Come, jump into it!" she cries out to me, and instead of quenching +the flame she pours forth more alcohol into the furious conflagration. + +"For heaven's sake!" I cry out. + +"Do you know now who I am?" she giggles. "I'm a witch!" + +With jubilant screams she loosens her hair of reddish gold which now +falls about her with a flaming glory. She shows me her white sharp +teeth and with a sudden swift movement she springs into the flame +which hisses to the very ceiling and clothes the chamber in a garb +of fire. + +I try to call for help, but my throat is tied, my breath stops. I am +throttled by smoke and flames. + +Once more I hear her elfin laughter, but now it comes to me from +subterranean depths. The earth has opened; new flames arise and +stretch forth fiery arms toward me. + +A voice cries from the fires: "Come! Come!" And the voice is like the +sound of bells. Then suddenly the night enfolds me. + + * * * * * + +The witchery has fled. Badly torn and scarred I find myself again on +the street. Next to me on the ground lies my play. "Did you not mean +to read that to some one?" I ask myself. + +A warm and gentle air caresses my fevered face. A blossoming lilac +bush inclines its boughs above me and from afar, there where the dawn +is about to appear, I hear the clear trilling of larks. + +I dream no longer.... But the spring has come.... + + + + +Chapter IV + + +And again the years pass by. + +It was on an evening during the carnival season and the world, that +is, the world that begins with the baron and ends with the +stockjobber, floated upon waves of pleasure as bubbles of fat float on +the surface of soup. + +Whoever did not wallow in the mire was sarcastically said not to be +able to sustain himself on his legs. + +There were those among my friends who had not gone to bed till morning +for thirty days. Some of them slept only to the strains of a +world-famous virtuoso; others only in the cabs that took them from +dinner to supper. + +Whenever three of them met, one complained of shattered nerves, the +second of catarrh of the stomach, the third of both. + +That was the pace of our amusement. + +Of mine, too. + +It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. I sat in a _cafe_, that +famous _cafe_ which unacknowleged geniuses affirm to be the very +centre of all intellectual life. No spot on earth is said to have so +fruitful an effect upon one's genius. Yet, strangely enough, however +eager for inspiration I might lounge about its red upholstery, however +ardently aglow for inspiration I might drink expensive champagnes +there, yet the supreme, immense, all-liberating thought did not come. + +Nor would that thought come to me to-day. Less than ever, in fact. Red +circles danced before my eyes and in my veins hammered the throbs of +fever. It wasn't surprising. For I, too, could scarcely remember to +have slept recently. It is an effort to raise my lids. The hand that +would stroke the hair with the gesture of genius--alas, how thin the +hair is getting--sinks down in nerveless weakness. + +But I may not go home. Mrs. Elsbeth--we bachelors call her so when her +husband is not by--Mrs. Elsbeth has ordered me to be here.... She +intended to drop in at midnight on her return from dinner with her +husband. The purpose of her coming is to discuss with me the surprises +which I am to think up for her magic festival. + +She is exacting enough, the sweet little woman, but the world has it +that I love her. And in order to let the world be in the right a man +is not averse to making a fool of herself. + +The stream of humanity eddies about me. Like endless chains rotating +in different directions, thus seem the two lines of those who enter +and those who depart. There are dandies in coquettish furs, their silk +hats low on their foreheads, their canes held vertically in their +pockets. There are fashionable ladies in white silk opera cloaks set +with ermine, their eyes peering from behind Spanish veils in proud +curiosity. And all are illuminated by the spirit of festivity. + +Also one sees shop-girls, dragged here by some chance admirer. They +wear brownish cloaks, ornamented with knots--the kind that looks worn +the day it is taken from the shop. And there are ladies of that +species whom one calls "ladies" only between quotation marks. These +wear gigantic picture hats trimmed with rhinestones. The hems of their +dresses are torn and flecked with last season's mud. There are +students who desire to be intoxicated through the lust of the eye; +artists who desire to regain a lost sobriety of vision; journalists +who find stuff for leader copy in the blue despatches that are posted +here; Bohemians and loungers of every station, typical of every degree +of sham dignity and equally sham depravity. They all intermingle in +manicoloured waves. It is the mad masque of the metropolis.... + +A friend comes up to me, one of the three hundred bosom friends with +whom I am wont to swap shady stories. He is pallid with +sleeplessness, deep horizontal lines furrow his forehead, his brows +are convulsively drawn. So we all look.... + +"Look here," he says, "you weren't at the Meyers' yesterday." + +"I was invited elsewhere." + +"Where?" + +I've got to think a minute before I can remember the name. We all +suffer from weakness in the head. + +"Aha," he cries. "I'm told it was swell. Magnificent women ... and +that fellow ... er ... thought reader and what's her name ... yes ... +the Sembrich ... swell ... you must introduce me there some day...." + +Stretching his legs he sinks down at my side on the sofa. + +Silence. My bosom friend and I have exhausted the common stock of +interests. + +He has lit a cigarette and is busy catching the white clouds which he +blows from his nose with his mouth. This employment seems to satisfy +his intellect wholly. + +I, for my part, stare at the ceiling. There the golden bodies of +snakes wind themselves in mad arabesques through chains of roses. The +pretentious luxury offends my eye. I look farther, past the +candelabrum of crystal which reflects sharp rainbow tints over all, +past the painted columns whose shafts end in lily leaves as some +torturing spear does in flesh. + +My glance stops yonder on the wall where a series of fresco pictures +has been painted. + +The forms of an age that was drunk with beauty look down on me in +their victorious calm. They are steeped in the glow of a southern +heaven. The rigid splendour of the marble walls is contrasted with the +magnificent flow of long garments. + +It is a Roman supper. Rose-crowned men lean upon Indian cushions, +holding golden beakers in their right hands. Women in yielding +nakedness cower at their feet. Through the open door streams in a +Bacchic procession with fauns and panthers, the drunken Pan in its +midst. Brown-skinned slaves with leopard skins about their loins make +mad music. Among them is one who at once makes me forget the tumult. +She leans her firm, naked body surreptitiously against the pillar. Her +form is contracted with weariness. Thoughtlessly and with tired lips +she blows the _tibia_ which her nerveless hands threaten to drop. Her +cheeks are yellow and fallen in, her eyes are glassy, but upon her +forehead are seen the folds of lordship and about her mouth wreaths a +stony smile of irony. Who is she? Whence does she come? I ask myself. +But I feel a dull thud against my shoulder. My bosom friend has fallen +asleep and is using me as a pillow. + +"Look here, you!" I call out to him, for I have for the moment +forgotten his name. "Go home and go to bed." + +He starts up and gazes at me with swimming eyes. + +"Do you mean me?" he stutters. "That's a good joke." And next moment +he begins to snore. + +I hide him as well as possible with my broad back and bend down over +the glittering samovar before me. The fragrant steam prickles my nose. + +It is time that the little woman turn up if I am to amuse her guests. + +I think of the brown-skinned woman yonder in the painting. + +I open my eyes. Merciful heaven! What is that? + +For the woman stands erect now in all the firm magnificence of her +young limbs, presses her clenched fists against her forehead and +stares down at me with glowing eyes. + +And suddenly she hurls the flutes from her in a long curve and cries +with piercing voice: "No more ... I will play no more!" It is the +voice of a slave at the moment of liberation. + +"For heaven's sake, woman!" I cry. "What are you doing? You will be +slain; you will be thrown to the wild beasts!" + +She points about her with a gesture that is full of disgust and +contempt. + +Then I see what she means. All that company has fallen asleep. The men +lie back with open mouths, the goblets still in their hands. Golden +cascades of wine fall glittering upon the marble. The women writhe in +these pools of wine. But even in the intoxication of their dreams they +try to guard their elaborate hair dress. The whole mad band, musicians +and animals, lies there with limbs dissolved, panting for air, +overwhelmed by heavy sleep. + +"The way is free!" cries the flute player jubilantly and buries her +twitching fingers into the flesh of her breasts. "What is there to +hinder my flight?" + +"Whither do you flee, mad woman?" I ask. + +A gleam of dreamy ecstasy glides over her grief-worn face which seems +to flush and grow softer of outline. + +"Home--to freedom," she whispers down to me and her eyes burn. + +"Where is your home?" + +"In the desert," she cries. "Here I play for their dances; there I am +queen. My name is Thea and it is resonant through storms. They chained +me with golden chains; they lured me with golden speeches until I left +my people and followed them to their prison that is corroded with +lust.... Ah, if you knew with my knowledge, you would not sit here +either.... But the slave of the moment knows not liberty." + +"I have known it," I say drearily and let my chin sink upon the table. + +"And you are here?" + +Contemptuously she turns her back to me. + +"Take me with you, Thea," I cry, "take me with you to freedom." + +"Can you still endure it." + +"I will endure the glory of freedom or die of it." + +"Then come." + +A brown arm that seems endless stretches down to me. An iron grasp +lifts me upward. Noise and lights dislimn in the distance. + +Our way lies through great, empty, pillared halls which curve above us +like twilit cathedrals. Great stairs follow which fall into black +depths like waterfalls of stone. Thence issues a mist, green with +silvery edges.... + +A dizziness seizes me as I strive to look downward. + +I have a presentiment of something formless, limitless. A vague awe +and terror fill me. I tremble and draw back but an alien hand +constrains me. + +We wander along a moonlit street. To the right and left extend pallid +plains from which dark cypress trees arise, straight as candles. + +It is all wide and desolate like those halls. + +In the far distance arise sounds like half smothered cries of the +dying, but they grow to music. + +Shrill jubilation echoes between the sounds and it too grows to music. + +But this music is none other than the roaring of the storm which +lashes us on when we dare to faint. + +And we wander, wander ... days, weeks, months. Who knows how long? + +Night and day are alike. We do not rest; nor speak. + +The road is far behind us. We wander upon trackless wastes. + +Stonier grows the way, an eternal up and down over cliffs and through +chasms.... The edges of the weathered stones become steps for our +feet. Breathlessly we climb the peaks. Beyond them we clatter into +new abysms. + +My feet bleed. My limbs jerk numbly like those of a jumping-jack. An +earthy taste is on my lips. I have long lost all sense of progress. +One cliff is like another in its jagged nakedness; one abysm dark and +empty as another. Perhaps I wander in a circle. Perhaps this brown +hand is leading me wildly astray, this hand whose grasp has penetrated +my flesh, and has grown into it like the fetter of a slave. + +Suddenly I am alone. + +I do not know how it came to pass. + +I drag myself to a peak and look about me. + +There spreads in the crimson glow of dawn the endless, limitless rocky +desert--an ocean turned to stone. + +Jagged walls tower in eternal monotony into the immeasurable distance +which is hid from me by no merciful mist. Out of invisible abysms +arise sharp peaks. A storm from the south lashes their flanks from +which the cracked stone fragments roll to become the foundations of +new walls. + +The sun, hard and sharp as a merciless eye, arises slowly in this +parched sky and spreads its cloak of fire over this dead world. + +The stone upon which I sit begins to glow. + +The storm drives splinters of stone into my flesh. A fiery stream of +dust mounts toward me. Madness descends upon me like a fiery canopy. + +Shall I wander on? Shall I die? + +I wander on, for I am too weary to die. At last, far off, on a ledge +of rock, I see the figure of a man. + +Like a black spot it interrupts this sea of light in which the very +shadows have become a crimson glow. + +An unspeakable yearning after this man fills my soul. For his steps +are secure. His feet are scarcely lifted, yet quietly does he fare +down the chasms and up the heights. I want to rush to meet him but a +great numbness holds me back. + +He comes nearer and nearer. + +I see a pallid, bearded countenance with high cheek-bones, and +emaciated cheeks.... The mouth, delicate and gentle as a girl's, is +drawn in a quiet smile. A bitterness that has grown into love, into +renunciation, even into joy, shines in this smile. + +And at the sight of it I feel warm and free. + +And then I see his eye which is round and sharp as though open through +the watches of many nights. With moveless clearness of vision he +measures the distances, and is careless of the way which his foot +finds without groping. In this look lies a dreaming glow which turns +to waking coldness. + +A tremour of reverence seizes my body. + +And now I know who this man is who fares through the desert in +solitary thought, and to whom horror has shown the way to peace. He +looks past me! How could it be different? + +I dare not call to him. Movelessly I stare after him until his form +has vanished in the guise of a black speck behind the burning cliffs. + +Then I wander farther ... and farther ... and farther.... + + * * * * * + +It was on a grayish yellow day of autumn that I sat again after an +interval on the upholstery of the famous _cafe_, I looked gratefully +up at the brown slave-girl in the picture who blew upon her flutes as +sleepily and dully as ever. I had come to see her. + +I start for I feel a tap on my shoulder. + +In brick-red gloves, his silk-hat over his forehead, a little more +tired and world-worn than ever, that bosom friend whose name I have +now definitely forgotten stood before me. + +"Where the devil have you been all this time?" he asks. + +"Somewhere," I answer laughing. "In the desert." ... + +"Gee! What were you looking for there?" + +"_Myself_."... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +And ever swifter grows the beat of time's wing. My breath can no +longer keep the same pace. + +Thoughtless enjoyment of life has long yielded to a life and death +struggle. + +And I am conquered. + +Wretchedness and want have robbed me of my grasping courage and of my +laughing defiance. The body is sick and the soul droops its wings. + + * * * * * + +Midnight approaches. The smoky lamp burns more dimly and outside on +the streets life begins to die out. Only from time to time the snow +crunches and groans under the hurrying foot of some belated and +freezing passer-by. The reflection of the gas lamps rests upon the +frozen windows as though a yellow veil had been drawn before them. + +In the room hovers a dull heat which weighs upon my brain and even +amid shivering wrings the sweat from my pores. + +I had the fire started again toward night for I was cold. Now I am no +longer cold. + +"Take care of yourself," my friend the doctor said to me, "you have +worked yourself to pieces and must rest." + +"Rest, rest"--the word sounds like a gnome's irony from all the +corners of my room, for my work is heaping up on all sides and +threatens to smother me. + +"Work! Work!" This is the voice of conscience. It is like the voice of +a brutal waggoner that would urge a dead ass on to new efforts. + +My paper is in its place. For hours I have sat and stared at it +brooding. It is still empty. + +A disagreeably sweetish odour which arises impudently to my nose makes +me start. + +There stands the pitcher of herb tea which my landlady brought in at +bedtime. + +The dear woman. + +"Man must sweat," she had declared. "If the whole man gets into a +sweat then the evil humours are exuded, and the healthy sap gets a +chance to circulate until one is full of it." + +And saying that she wiped her greasy lips for she likes to eat a piece +of rye bread with goose grease before going to bed. + +Irritatedly I push the little pitcher aside, but its grayish green +steam whirls only the more pertinaciously about me. The clouds assume +strange forms, which tower over each other and whirl into each other +like the phantoms over a witch's cauldron. + +And at last the fumes combine into a human form, at first misty and +without outlines but gradually becoming more sharply defined. + +Gray, gray, gray. An aged woman. So she seems, for she creeps along by +the help of a crutch. But over her face is a veil which falls to the +ground over her arms like the folded wings of a bat. + +I begin to laugh, for spirits have long ceased to inspire me with +reverence. + +"Is your name by any chance Thea, O lovely, being?" I ask. + +"My name is Thea," she answers and her voice is weary, gentle and a +little hoarse. A caressing shimmer as of faintly blue velvet, an +insinuating fragrance as of dying mignonette--both lie in this voice. +The voice fills my heart. But I won't be taken in, least of all by +some trite ghost which is in the end only a vision of one's own +sick brain. + +"It seems that the years have not changed you for the better, charming +Thea," I say and point sarcastically to the crutch. + +"My wings are broken and I am withered like yourself." + +I laugh aloud. "So that is the meaning of this honoured apparition! A +mirror of myself--spirit of ruin--symbolic poem on the course of my +ideas. Pshaw! I know that trick. Every brainless Christmas poet knows +it, too. You must come with a more powerful charm, O Thea, spirit of +the herb tea! Good-bye. My time is too precious to be wasted by +allegories." + +"What have you to do that is so important?" she asks, and I seem to +see the gleam of her eyes behind the folds of the veil, whether in +laughter or in grief I cannot tell. + +"If I have nothing more to do, I must die," I answer and feel with joy +how my defiance steels itself in these words. + +"And that seems important to you?" + +"Moderately so." + +"Important to whom?" + +"To myself, I should think, if to no one else." + +"And your creditor--the world?" + +That was the last straw. "The world, oh, yes, the world. And what, +pray, do I owe it?" + +"Love." + +"Love? To that harlot? Because it sucked the fire from my veins and +poured poison therein instead? Behold me here--wrecked, broken, a +plaything of any wave. That is what the world has made of me!" + +"That is what you have made of yourself! ... The world came to you +as a smiling guide.... With gentle finger it touched your shoulder and +desired you to follow. But you were stubborn. You went your own way in +dark and lonely caverns where the laughing music of the fight that +sounds from above becomes a discordant thunder. You were meant to be +wise and merry; you became dull and morose." + +"Very well; if that is what I became, at least the grave will release +me from my condition." + +"Test yourself thoroughly." + +"What is the use of that now? Life has crippled me.... What of joy it +has to offer becomes torture to me.... I am cut loose from all the +kindly bonds that bind man to man.... I cannot bear hatred, neither +can I bear love.... I tremble at a thousand dangers that have never +threatened and will never threaten me. A very straw has become a cliff +to me against which I founder and against which my weary limbs are +dashed in pieces.... And this is the worst of all. My vision sees +clearly that it is but a straw before which my strength writhes in the +dust.... You have come at the right time, Thea. Perhaps you carry in +the folds of your robe some little potion that will help me to hurry +across the verge." + +Again I see a gleam behind the veil--a smiling salutation from some +far land where the sun is still shining. And my heart seems about to +burst under that gleam. But I control myself and continue to gaze at +her with bitter defiance. + +"It needs no potion," she says and raises her right hand. I have never +seen such a hand.... It seem to be without bones, formed of the petals +of flowers. The hand might seem deformed, dried and yet swollen as +with disease, were it not so delicate, so radiant, so lily-like. An +unspeakable yearning for this poor, sick hand overcomes me. I want to +fall on my knees before it and press my lips to it in adoration. But +already the hand lays itself softly upon my hair. Gentle and cool as a +flake of snow it rests there. But from moment to moment it waxes +heavier until the weight of mountains seems to lie upon my head. I can +bear the pressure no longer. I sink ... I sink ... the earth opens.... +Darkness is all about me.... + +Recovering consciousness, I find myself lying in a bed surrounded by +impenetrable night. + +"One of my stupid dreams," I say to myself and grope for the matches +on my bed side table to see the time.... But my hand strikes hard +against a board that rises diagonally at my shoulder. I grope farther +and discover that my couch is surrounded by a cloak of wood. And that +cloak is so narrow, so narrow that I can scarcely raise my head a +few inches without knocking against it. + +"Perhaps I am buried," I say to myself. "Then indeed my wish would +have fulfilled itself promptly." + +A fresh softly prickling scent of flowers, as of heather and roses, +floats to me. + +"Aha," I say to myself, "the odour of the funeral flowers. My +favourites have been chosen. That was kind of people." And, as I turn +my head the cups of flowers nestle soft and cool against my cheek. + +"You are buried amid roses," I say to myself, "as you always desired." +And then I touch my breast to discover what gift has been placed upon +my heart. My fingers touch hard, jagged leaves. + +"What is that?" I ask myself in surprise. And then I laugh shrilly. It +is a wreath of laurel leaves which has been pressed with its rough, +woodlike leaves between my body and the coffin lid. + +"Now you have everything that you so ardently desired, you fool of +fame," I cry out and a mighty irony takes hold of me. + +And then I stretch out my legs until my feet reach the end of the +coffin, nestle my head amid the flowers, and make ready to enjoy my +great peace with all my might. I am not in the least frightened or +confounded, for I know that air to breathe will never again be +lacking now for I need it no longer. I am dead, properly and honestly +dead. Nothing remains now but to flow peacefully and gently into the +realm of the unconscious, and to let the dim dream of the All surge +over me to eternity. + +"Good-night, my dear former fellow-creatures," I say and turn +contemptuously on my other side. "You can all go to the dickens for +all I care." + +And then I determine to lie still as a mouse and discover whether I +cannot find some food for the malice that yet is in me, by listening +to man's doings upon the wretched earth above me. + +At first I hear nothing but a dull roaring. But that may proceed as +well from the subterranean waters that rush through the earth +somewhere in my neighbourhood. But no, the sound comes from above. And +from time to time I also hear a rattling and hissing as of dried peas +poured out over a sieve. + +"Of course, it's wretched weather again," I say and rub my hands +comfortably, not, to be sure, without knocking my elbows against the +side of the coffin. + +"They could have made this place a little roomier," I say to myself. +But when it occurs to me that, in my character of an honest corpse, I +have no business to move at all if I want to be a credit to my +new station. + +But the spirit of contradiction in me at once rebels against this +imputation. + +"There are no classes in the grave and no prejudices," I cry. "In the +grave we are all alike, high and low, poor and rich. The rags of the +beggar, my masters, have here just the same value as the purple cloak +that falls from the shoulders of a king. Here even the laurel loses +its significance as the crown of fame and is given to many a one." + +I cease, for my fingers have discovered a riband that hangs from the +wreath. Upon it, I am justified in assuming, there is written some +flattering legend. The letters are just raised enough to be +indistinctly felt. + +I am about to call for matches, but remember just in time that it is +forbidden to strike a light in the grave or rather, that it is +contrary to the very conception of the grave to be illuminated. + +This thought annoys me and I continue: "The laurel is given here not +to the distinguished alone. I must correct that expression. Are not we +corpses distinguished _per se_ as compared to the miserable plebeian +living? Is not this noble rest in which we dwell an unmistakable sign +of true aristocracy? And the laurel that is given to the dead, that +laurel, my masters, fills me with as high a pride as would the diadem +of a king." + +I ceased. For I could rightly expect enthusiastic applause at the +close of this effective passage. But as everything remained silent I +turned my thoughts once more upon myself, and considered, too, that my +finest speeches would find no public here. + +"It is, besides, in utter contradiction to the conception of death to +deliver speeches," I said to myself, but at once I began another in +order to establish an opposition against myself. + +"Conception? What is a conception? What do I care for conceptions +here? I am dead. I have earned the sacred right to disregard such +things. If those two-penny living creatures cannot imagine the grave +otherwise than dark or the dead otherwise than dumb--why, I surely +have no need to care for that." + +In the meantime my fingers had scratched about on the riband in the +vain hope of inferring from the gilt and raised letters on the silk +their form and perhaps the significance of the legend. My efforts +were, however, without success. Hence I continued outraged: "In order +to speak first of the conception of the grave as dark, I should like +to ask any intelligent and expert corpse: 'Why is the grave +necessarily dark?' Should not we who are dead rather demand of an age +that has made such enormous progress in illumination, which has not +only invented gas and electric lighting and complied with the +regulations for the illumination of streets, but has at a slight cost +succeeded in giving to every corner of the world the very light of +day--may we not demand of such an age that it put an end to the +old-fashioned darkness of the grave? It would seem as if the most +elementary piety would constrain the living to this improvement. But +when did the living ever feel any piety? We must enforce from them the +necessaries of a worthy existence in death. Gentlemen, I close with +the last, or, I had better say, the first words of our great Goethe +whose genius with characteristic power of divination foresaw the +unworthy condition of the inner grave and the necessities of a truly +noble and liberal minded corpse. For what else could be the meaning of +that saying which I herewith inscribe upon our banner: 'Light, more +light!' That must henceforth be our device and our battlecry." + +This time, too, silence was my only answer. Whence I inferred that in +the grave there is neither striving nor crying out. Nevertheless I +continued to amuse myself and made many a speech against the +management of the cemetery, against the insufficiency of the method of +flat pressure upon the dead now in use, and similar outrages. In the +meantime the storm above had raged and the rain lashed its fill and a +peaceful silence descended upon all things. + +Only from time to time did I hear a short, dull uniform thunder, which +I could not account for until it occurred to me that it was produced +by the footsteps of passers-by, the noise of which was thus echoed and +multiplied in the earth. + +And then suddenly I heard the sound of human voices. + +The sound came vertically down to my head. + +People seemed to be standing at my grave. + +"Much I care about you," I said, and was about to continue to reflect +on my epoch-making invention which is to be called: _Helminothanatos_,' +that is to say, 'Death by Worms' and which, so soon as it is completed +is to be registered in the patent office as number 156,763. But my +desire to know what was thought of me after my death left me no rest. +Hence I did not hesitate long to press my ear to the inner roof of the +coffin in order that the sound might better reach me thus. + +Now I recognised the voices at once. + +They belonged to two men to whom I had always been united by bonds of +the tenderest sympathy and whom I was proud to call my friends. They +had always assured me of the high value which they set upon me and +that their blame--with which they had often driven me to secret +despair--proceeded wholly from helpful and unselfish love. + +"Poor devil," one of them said, in a tone of such humiliating +compassion that I was ashamed of myself in the very grave. + +"He had to bite the dust pretty early," the other sighed. "But it was +better so both for him and for myself. I could not have held him above +water much longer." ... + +From sheer astonishment I knocked my head so hard against the side of +the coffin that a bump remained. + +"When did you ever hold me above water?" I wanted to cry out but I +considered that they could not hear me. + +Then the first one spoke again. + +"I often found it hard enough to aid him with my counsel without +wounding his vanity. For we know how vain he was and how taken +with himself." + +"And yet he achieved little enough," the other answered. "He ran after +women and sought the society of inferior persons for the sake of their +flattery. It always astonished me anew when he managed to produce +something of approximately solid worth. For neither his character nor +his intelligence gave promise of it." + +"In your wonderful charity you are capable of finding something +excellent even in his work," the other replied. "But let us be frank: +The only thing he sometimes succeeded in doing was to flatter the +crude instincts of the mob. True earnestness or conviction he never +possessed." + +"I never claimed either for him," the first eagerly broke in. "Only I +didn't want to deny the poor fellow that bit of piety which is +demanded. _De mortuis_----" + +And both voices withdraw into the distance. + +"O you grave-robbers!" I cried and shook my fist after them. "Now I +know what your friendship was worth. Now it is clear to me how you +humiliated me upon all my ways, and how when I came to you in hours of +depression you administered a kick in order that you might increase in +stature at my expense! Oh, if I could only."... + +I ceased laughing. + +"What silly wishes, old boy!" I admonished myself. "Even if you could +master your friends; your enemies would drive you into the grave a +thousand times over." + +And I determined to devote my whole thought henceforth to the +epoch-making invention of my impregnating fluid called +"_Helminothanatos"_ or "Death by Worms." + +But new voices roused me from my meditation. + +I listened. + +"That's where what's his name is buried," said one. + +"Quite right," said the other. "I gave him many a good hit while he +was among us--more than I care to think about to-day. But he was an +able fellow. His worst enemy couldn't deny that." + +I started and shuddered. + +I knew well who he was: my bitterest opponent who tortured me so long +with open lashes and hidden stabs that I almost ended by thinking I +deserved nothing else. + +And he had a good word to say for me--_he?_ + +His voice went on. "To-day that he is out of our way we may as well +confess that we always liked him a great deal. He took life and work +seriously and never used an indecent weapon against us. And if the +tactics of war had not forced us to represent his excellences as +faults, we might have learned a good deal from him." + +"It's a great pity," said the other. "If, before everything was at +sixes and sevens, he could have been persuaded to adopt our views, we +could perhaps have had the pleasure of receiving him into our +fighting lines." + +"With open arms," was the answer. And then in solemn tone: + +"Peace be to his ashes." + +The other echoed: "Peace ..." + +And then they went on.... + +I hid my face in my hands. My breast seemed to expand and gently, very +gently something began to beat in it which had rested in silent +numbness since I lay down here. + +"So that is the nature of the world's judgment," I said to myself. "I +should have known that before. With head proudly erect I would have +gone my way, uninfluenced by the glitter of false affection as by the +blindness of wildly aiming hatred. I would have shaken praise and +blame from me with the same joyous laugh and sought the norm of +achievement in myself alone. Oh, if only I could live once more! If +only there were a way out of these accursed six boards!" + +In impotent rage I pounded the coffin top with my fist and only +succeeded in running a splinter into my finger. + +And then there came over me once more, even though it came +hesitatingly and against my will, a delightful consciousness of that +eternal peace into which I had entered. + +"Would it be worth the trouble after all," I said to myself, "to +return to the fray once more, even if I were a thousand times certain +of victory? What is this victory worth? Even if I succeed in being the +first to mount some height untrod hitherto by any human foot, yet the +next generation will climb on my shoulders and hurl me down into the +abysm of oblivion. There I could lie, lonely and helpless, until the +six boards are needed again to help me to my happiness. And so let me +be content and wait until that thing in my breast which has began to +beat so impudently, has become quiet once more." + +I stretched myself out, folded my hands, and determined to hold no +more incendiary speeches and thus counteract the trade of the worms, +but rather to doze quietly into the All. + +Thus I lay again for a space. + +Then arose somewhere a strange musical sound, which penetrated my +dreamy state but partially at first before it awakened me wholly from +my slumber. + +What was that? A signal of the last day? + +"It's all the same to me," I said and stretched myself. "Whether it's +heaven or hell--it will be a new experience." + +But the sound that had awakened me had nothing in common with the +metallic blare of trumpets which religious guides have taught us +to expect. + +Gentle and insinuating, now like the tones of flutes played by +children, now like the sobbing of a girl's voice, now like the +caressing sweetness with which a mother speaks to her little child--so +infinitely manifold but always full of sweet and yearning magic--alien +and yet dear and familiar--such was the music that came to my ear. + +"Where have I heard that before?" I asked myself, listening. + +And as I thought and thought, an evening of spring arose before my +soul--an evening out of a far and perished time.... I had wandered +along the bank of a steaming river. The sunset which shone through the +jagged young leaves spread a purple carpet over the quiet waters upon +which only a swift insect would here and there create circular eddies. +At every step I took the dew sprang up before me in gleaming pearls, +and a fragrance of wild thyme and roses floated through the air.... + +There it must have been that I heard this music for the first time. + +And now it was all clear: The nightingale was singing ... the +nightingale. + +And so spring has come to the upper world. + +Perhaps it is an evening of May even as that which my spirit recalls. + +Blue flowers stand upon the meadows.... Goldenrod and lilac mix their +blossoms into gold and violet wreaths.... Like torn veils the +delicate flakings of the buttercups fly through the twilight.... + +Surely from the village sounds the stork's rattle ... and surely the +distant strains of an accordion are heard.... + +But the nightingale up there cares little what other music may be +made. It sobs and jubilates louder and louder, as if it knew that in +the poor dead man's bosom down here the heart beats once more stormily +against his side. + +And at every throb of that heart a hot stream glides through my veins. +It penetrates farther and farther until it will have filled my whole +body. It seems to me as though I must cry out with yearning and +remorse. But my dull stubbornness arises once more: "You have what you +desired. So lie here and be still, even though you should be condemned +to hear the nightingale's song until the end of the world." + +The song has grown much softer. + +Obviously the human steps that now encircle my grave with their sullen +resonance have driven the bird to a more distant bush. + +"Who may it be," I ask myself, "that thinks of wandering to my place +of rest on an evening of May when the nightingales are singing." + +And I listen anew. It sounds almost as though some one up there were +weeping. + +Did I not go my earthly road lonely and unloved? Did I not die in the +house of a stranger? Was I not huddled away in the earth by strangers? +Who is it that comes to weep at my grave? + +And each one of the tears that is shed above there falls glowing upon +my breast.... + +And my breast rises in a convulsive struggle but the coffin lid pushes +it back. I strain my head against the wood to burst it, but it lies +upon me like a mountain. My body seems to burn. To protect it I burrow +in the saw-dust which fills mouth and eyes with its biting chaff. + +I try to cry out but my throat is paralysed. + +I want to pray but instead of thoughts the lightnings of madness shoot +through my brain. + +I feel only one thing that threatens to dissolve all my body into a +stream of flame and that penetrates my whole being with immeasurable +might: "I must live ... live...!" + +There, in my sorest need, I think of the faery who upon my desire +brought me by magic to my grave. + +"Thea, I beseech you. I have sinned against the world and myself. It +was cowardly and slothful to doubt of life so long as a spark of life +and power glowed in my veins. Let me arise, I beseech you, from the +torments of hell--let me arise!" + +And behold: the boards of the coffin fall from me like a wornout +garment. The earth rolls down on both sides of me and unites beneath +me in order to raise my body. + +I open my eyes and perceive myself to be lying in dark grass. Through +the bent limbs of trees the grave stars look down upon me. The black +crosses stand in the evening glow, and past the railings of +grave-plots my eyes blink out into the blossoming world. + +The crickets chirp about me in the grass, and the nightingale begins +to sing anew. + +Half dazed I pull myself together. + +Waves of fragrance and melting shadows extend into the distance. + +Suddenly I see next to me on the grave mound a crouching gray figure. +Between a veil tossed back I see a countenance, pallid and lovely, +with smooth dark hair and a madonna-like face. About the softly +smiling mouth is an expression of gentle loftiness such as is seen in +those martyrs who joyfully bleed to death from the mightiness of +their love. + +Her eyes look down upon me in smiling peace, clear and soulful, the +measure of all goodness, the mirror of all beauty. + +I know the dark gleam of those eyes, I know that gray, soft veil, I +know that poor sick hand, white as a blossom, that leans upon +a crutch. + +It is she, my faery, whose tears have awakened me from the dead. + +All my defiance vanishes. + +I lie upon the earth before her and kiss the hem of her garment. + +And she inclines her head and stretches her hand out to me. + +With the help of that hand I arise. + +Holding this poor, sick hand, I stride joyfully back into life. + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +I sought my faery and I found her not. + +I sought her upon the flowery fields of the South and on the ragged +moors of the Northland; in the eternal snow of Alpine ridges and in +the black folds of the nether earth; in the iridescent glitter of the +boulevard and in the sounding desolation of the sea.... And I +found her not. + +I sought her amid the tobacco smoke and the cheap applause of popular +assemblies and on the vanity fair of the professional social patron; +in the brilliance of glittering feasts I sought her and in the twilit +silence of domestic comfort.... And I found her not. + +My eye thirsted for the sight of her but in my memory there was no +mark by which I could have recognised her. Each image of her was +confused and obliterated by the screaming colours of a new epoch. + +Good and evil in a thousand shapes had come between me and my faery. +And the evil had grown into good for me, the good into evil. + +But the sum of evil was greater than the sum of good. I bent low +under the burden, and for a long space my eyes saw nothing but the +ground to which I clung. + +And therefore did I need my faery. + +I needed her as a slave needs liberation, as the master needs a higher +master, as the man of faith needs heaven. + +In her I sought my resurrection, my strength to live, my defiant +illusion. + +And therefore was I famished for her. + +My ear listened to all the confusing noises that were about me, but +the voice of my faery was not among them. My hand groped after alien +hands, but the faery hand was not among them. Nor would I have +recognised it. + +And then I went in quest of her to all the ends of the earth. + +First I went to a philosopher. + +"You know everything, wise man," I said, "can you tell me how I may +find my faery again?" + +The philosopher put the tips of his five outstretched fingers against +his vaulted forehead and, having meditated a while, said: "You must +seek, through pure intuition, to grasp all the conceptual essence of +the being of the object sought for. Therefore withdraw into yourself +and listen to the voice of your mind." I did as I was told. But the +rushing of the blood in the shells of my ears affrighted me. It +drowned every other voice. + +Next I went to a very clever physician and asked him the same +question. + +The physician who was about to invent an artificially digested porridge +in order to save the modern stomach any exertion, let his spoon fall +for a moment and said: "You must take only such foods as will tend to +add phosphorous matter to the brain. The answer to your question will +then come of itself." + +I followed his directions but instead of my faery a number of +confusing images presented themselves. I saw in the hearts of those +who were about me faery gardens and infernos, deserts and turnip +fields; I saw a comically hopping rainworm who was nibbling at a +graceful centipede; I saw a world in which darkness was lord. I saw +much else and was frightened at the images. + +Then I went to a clergyman and put my question to him. + +The pious man comfortably lit his pipe and said: "You will find no +faeries mentioned in the catechism, my friend. Hence there are none, +and it is sin to seek them. But perhaps you can help me bring back the +devil into the world, the old, authentic devil with tail and horns and +sulphurous stench. He really exists and we need him." + +After I had made inquiry of a learned jurist who advised me to have my +faery located by the police, I went to one of my colleagues, a poet of +the classic school. + +I found him clad in a red silk dressing gown, a wet handkerchief tied +around his forehead. Its purpose was to keep his all too stormy wealth +of inspiration in check. Before him on the table stood a glassful of +Malaga wine and a silver salver full of pomegranates and grapes. The +grapes were made of glass and the pomegranates of soap. But the +contemplation of them was meant to heighten his mood. Near him, nailed +to the floor, stood a golden harp on which was hung a laurel wreath +and a nightcap. + +Timidly I put my question and the honoured master spoke: "The muse, my +worthy friend--ask the muse. Ask the muse who leads us poor children +of the dust into the divine sanctuary; carried aloft by whose wings +into the heights of ether we feel truly human--ask her!" + +As it would have been necessary for me, first of all, to look up this +unknown lady, I went to another colleague--one of the modern +seekers of truth. + +I found him at his desk peering through a microscope at a dying flee +which he was studying carefully. He noted each of its movements upon +the slips of paper from which he later constructed his works. Next to +him stood some bread and cheese, a little bottle full of ether and a +box of powders. + +When I had explained my business he grew very angry. + +"Man, don't bother me with such rot!" he cried. "Faeries and elves and +ideas and the devil knows what--that's all played out. That's worse +than iambics. Go hang, you idiot, and don't disturb me." + +Sad at seeing myself and my faery so contemned, I crept away and went +to one of those modern artists in life, who had tasted with epicurean +fineness all the esctasies and sorrows of earthly life in order to +broaden his personality.... I hoped that he would understand me, too. + +I found him lying on a _chaise longue_, smoking a cigarette, and +turning the leaves of a French novel. It was _La-bas_ by Huysmans, and +he didn't even cut the leaves, being too lazy. + +He heard my question with an obliging smile. "Dear friend, let's be +honest. The thing is simple. A faery is a woman. That is certain. +Well, take up with every woman that runs into your arms. Love them +all--one after another. You'll be sure then to hit upon your faery +some day." + +As I feared that to follow this advice I would have to waste the +better part of my life and all my conscience, I chose a last and +desperate method and went to a magician. + +If Manfred had forced Astarte back into being, though only for a +fleeting moment, why could I not do the same with the dear ruler of my +higher will? + +I found a dignified man with the eyes of an enthusiast and filthy +locks. He was badly in need of a change of linen. And so I had every +reason to consider him an idealist. + +He talked a good real of "Karma," of "materialisations" and of the +"plurality of spheres." He used many other strange words by means of +which he made it clear to me that my faery would reveal herself to me +only by his help. + +With beating heart I entered a dark room at the appointed hour. The +magician led me in. + +A soft, mysterious music floated toward me. I was left alone, pressed +to the door, awaiting the things that were to come in breathless fear. + +Suddenly, as I was waiting in the darkness, a gleaming, bluish needle +protruded from the floor. It grew to rings and became a snake which +breathed forth flames and dissolved into flame ... And the tongues of +these flames played on all sides and finally parted in curves like the +leaves of an opening lotus flower, out of whose calix white veils +arose slowly, very slowly, and became as they glided upward the +garments of a woman who looked at me, who was lashed by fear, with +sightless eyes. + +"Are you Thea?" I asked trembling. + +The veils inclined in affirmation. + +"Where do you dwell?" + +The veils waved, shaken by the trembling limbs. + +"Ask me after other things," a muffled voice said. + +"Why do you no longer appear to me?" + +"I may not." + +"Who hinders you?" + +"You." ... + +"By what? Am I unworthy of you?" + +"Yes." + +In deep contrition I was about to fall at her feet. But, coming +nearer, I perceived that my faery's breath smelled of onions. + +This circumstance sobered me a bit, for I don't like onions. + +I knocked at the locked door, paid my magician what I owed him and +went my way. + +From now on all hope of ever seeing her again vanished. But my soul +cried out after her. And the world receded from me. Its figures +dislimned into things that have been, its noise did not thunder at my +threshold. A solitariness half voluntary and half enforced dragged its +steps through my house. Only a few, the intimates of my heart and +brothers of my blood, surrounded my life with peace and kept watch +without my doors. + + * * * * * + +It was a late afternoon near Advent Sunday. + +But no message of Christmas came to my yearning soul. + +Somewhere, like a discarded toy, lay amid rubbish the motive power of +my passions. My heart was dumb, my hand nerveless, and even need--that +last incentive--had slackened to a wild memory. + +The world was white with frost.... The dust of ice and the rain of +star-light filled the world... cloths of glittering white covered the +plains.... The bare twigs of the trees stretched upwards like staves +of coral.... The fir trees trembled like spun glass. + +A red sunset spread its reflection over all. But the sunset itself was +poverty stricken. No purple lights, no gleam of seven colours warmed +the whiteness of the world. Not like the gentle farewell of the sun +but cruel as the threat of paralysing night did the bloody stripe +stare through my window. + +It is the hour of afternoon tea. The regulations of the house demand +that. + +Grayish blue steam whirls up to the shadowed ceiling and moistens with +falling drops the rounded silver of the tea urn. + +The bell rings. + +From the housekeeper's rooms floats an odour of fresh baked breads. +They are having a feast there. Perhaps they mean to prepare one for +the master, too. + +A new book that has come a great distance to-day is in my hand. + +I read. Another one has made the great discovery that the world begins +with him. + +Ah, did it not once begin with me, too? + +To be young, to be young! Ah, even if one suffers need--only to be +young! + +But who, after all, would care to retrace the difficult road? + +Perhaps you, O woman at my side? + +I would wager that even you would not. + +And I raise a questioning glance though I know her to be far ... and +who stands behind the kettle, framed by the rising of the +bluish steam? + +Ah child, have I not seen you often--you with the brownish locks and +the dark lashes over blue eyes ... you with the bird-like twitter in +the throbbing whiteness of your throat, and the light-hearted step? + +And yet, did I ever see you? Did I ever see that look which surrounds +me with its ripe wisdom and guesses the secrets of my heart? Did I +ever see that mouth so rich and firm at once which smiles upon me full +of reticent consolation and alluring comprehension? + +Who are you, child, that you dare to look me through and through, as +though I had laid my confidence at your feet? Who are you that you +dare to descend wingless into the abysms of my soul, that you can +smile away my torture and my suffocation? + +Why did you not come earlier in your authentic form? Why did you not +come as all that which you are to me and will be from this hour on? + +Why do you hide yourself in the mist which renders my recognition +turbid and shadows your outlines? + +Come to me, for you are she whom I seek, for whom my heart's blood +yearns in order to flow as sacrifice and triumph! + +You are the faery who clarifies my eye and steels my will, who brings +to me upon her young hands my own youth! Come to me and do not leave +me again as you have so often left me! + +I start up to stretch out my arms to her and see how her glance +becomes estranged and her smile as of stone. As one who is asleep with +open eyes, thus she stands there and stares past me. + +I try to find her, to clasp her, to force her spirit to see me. +Without repulsing me she glides softly from me.... The walls open. ... +The stones of the stairs break.... We flee out into the wintry +silence.... + +She glides before me over the pallid velvet of the road ... over the +tinkling glass of the frozen heath ... through the glittering boughs. +She smiles--for whom? + +The hilly fields, hardened by the frost, the bushes scattering +ice--everything obstructs my way. I break through and follow her. + +But she glides on before me, scarcely a foot above the ground, but +farther, farther ... over the broken earth, down the precipice ... to +the lake whose bluish surface of new ice melts in the distance into +the afterglow. + +Now she hangs over the bank like a cloud of smoke, and the wind that +blows upon my back, raises the edges of her dress like triangular +pennants. "Stay, Thea.... I cannot follow you across the lake! ... +The water will not upbear a mortal."... + +But the rising wind pushes her irresistibly on. + +Now I stand as the edge of the lake. The thin ice forces upward great +hollow bubbles.... + +Will it suffer my groping feet? Will it break and whelm me in brackish +water and morass? + +There is no room for hesitation. For already the wind is sweeping her +afar. + +And I venture out upon the glassy floor which is no floor at all, but +which a brief frost threw as a deceptive mirror across the deep. + +It bears me up for five paces, for six, for ten. Then suddenly the cry +of harps is in my ear and something like an earthquake quivers through +my limbs. And this sound grows into a mighty crunching and waxes into +thunder which sounds afar and returns from the distance in echoing +detonation. + +But at my left hand glitters a cleft which furrows the ice with +manicoloured splinters and runs from me into the invisible. + +What is to be done? On... on...! + +And again the harps cry out and a great rattling flies forth and +returns as thunder. And again a great cleft opens its brilliant hues +at my side. On, on ... to seek her smiling, even though the smile is +not for me. It will be for me if only I can grasp the hem of +her garment. + +A third cleft opens; a fourth crosses it, uniting it to the first. + +I must cross. But I dare not jump, for the ice must not crumble lest +an abysm open at my feet. + +It is no longer a sheet of ice upon which I travel--it is a net-work +of clefts. Between them lies something blue and all but invisible that +bears me by the merest chance. I can see the tangled water grasses +wind about and the polished fishes dart whom my body will feed unless +a miracle happens. + +Lit by the gathering afterglow a plain of fire stretches out before +me, and far on the horizon the saving shore looms dark. + +Farther ... farther! + +Sinister and deceptive springs arise to my right and left and hurl +their waters across my path.... A soft gurgling is heard and at last +drowns the resonant sound of thunder. + +Farther, farther.... Mere life is at stake. + +There in the distance a cloud dislimns which but now lured me to death +with its girlish smile. What do I care now? + +The struggle endures for eternities. The wind drives me on. I avoid +the clefts, wade through the springs; I measure the distances, for now +I have to jump.... The depths are yawning about me. + +The ice under my feet begins to rock. It rocks like a cradle, heaving +and falling at every step ... It would be a charming game were it not +a game with death. + +My breath comes flying ... my heart-beats throttle me ... sparks +quiver before my eyes. + +Let me rock ... rock ... rock back to the dark sources of being. + +A springing fountain, higher than all the others, hisses up before +me.... Edges and clods rise into points. + +One spring ... the last of all ... hopeless ... inspired by the +desperate will to live. + +Ah, what is that? + +Is that not the goodly earth beneath my feet--the black, hard, stable +earth? + +It is but a tiny islet formed of frozen mud and roots; it is scarcely +two paces across, but large enough to give security to my +sinking body. + +I am ashore, saved, for only a few arm lengths from me arises the +reedy line of the shore. + +A drove of wild ducks rises in diagonal flight. ... Purple radiance +pours through the twigs of trees.... From nocturnal heavens the first +stars shine upon me. + +The ghostly game is over! The faery hunt is as an end. + +One truth I realise: He who has firm ground under his feet needs no +faeries. + +And serenely I stride into the sunset world. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Lily and Other Stories, by +Hermann Sudermann + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 9994.txt or 9994.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/9/9/9994/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +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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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..247ebd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #9994 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9994) diff --git a/old/7lily10.txt b/old/7lily10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65e5c1c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7lily10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8540 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Indian Lily and Other Stories, by Hermann Sudermann + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Indian Lily and Other Stories + +Author: Hermann Sudermann + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9994] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 6, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +AND OTHER STORIES + + + + +BY + +HERMANN SUDERMANN + + + + +TRANSLATED BY + +LUDWIG LEWISOHN, M.A. + + + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +THE PURPOSE + +THE SONG OF DEATH + +THE VICTIM + +AUTUMN + +MERRY FOLK + +THEA + + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was seven o'clock in the morning when Herr von Niebeldingk opened +the iron gate and stepped into the front garden whose wall of +blossoming bushes separated the house from the street. + +The sun of a May morning tinted the greyish walls with gold, and +caused the open window-panes to flash with flame. + +The master directed a brief glance at the second story whence floated +the dull sound of the carpet-beater. He thrust the key rapidly into +the keyhole for a desire stirred in him to slip past the porter's +lodge unobserved. + +"I seem almost to be--ashamed!" he murmured with a smile of +self-derision as a similar impulse overcame him in front of the +house door. + +But John, his man--a dignified person of fifty--had observed his +approach and stood in the opening door. The servant's mutton-chop +whiskers and admirably silvered front-lock contrasted with a repressed +reproach that hovered between his brows. He bowed deeply. + +"I was delayed," said Herr von Niebeldingk, in order to say something +and was vexed because this sentence sounded almost like an excuse. + +"Do you desire to go to bed, captain, or would you prefer a bath?" + +"A bath," the master responded. "I have slept elsewhere." + +That sounded almost like another excuse. + +"I'm obviously out of practice," he reflected as he entered the +breakfast-room where the silver samovar steamed among the dishes of +old Sevres. + +He stepped in front of the mirror and regarded himself--not with the +forbearance of a friend but the keen scrutiny of a critic. + +"Yellow, yellow...." He shook his head. "I must apply a curb to my +feelings." + +Upon the whole, however, he had reason to be fairly satisfied with +himself. His figure, despite the approach of his fortieth year, had +remained slender and elastic. The sternly chiselled face, surrounded +by a short, half-pointed beard, showed neither flabbiness nor bloat. +It was only around the dark, weary eyes that the experiences of the +past night had laid a net-work of wrinkles and shadows. Ten years +ago pleasure had driven the hair from his temples, but it grew +energetically upon his crown and rose, above his forehead, in a +Mephistophelian curve. + +The civilian's costume which often lends retired officers a guise of +excessive spick-and-spanness had gradually combined with an easier +bearing to give his figure a natural elegance. To be sure, six years +had passed since, displeased by a nagging major, he had definitely +hung up the dragoon's coat of blue. + +He was wealthy enough to have been able to indulge in the luxury of +that displeasure. In addition his estates demanded more rigorous +management.... From Christmas to late spring he lived in Berlin, where +his older brother occupied one of those positions at court that mean +little enough either to superior or inferior ranks, but which, in a +certain social set dependent upon the court, have an influence of +inestimable value. Without assuming the part of either a social lion +or a patron, he used this influence with sufficient thoroughness to be +popular, even, in certain cases, to be feared, and belonged to that +class of men to whom one always confides one's difficulties, never +one's wife. + +John came to announce to his master that the bath was ready. And while +Niebeldingk stretched himself lazily in the tepid water he let his +reflections glide serenely about the delightful occurrence of the +past night. + +That occurrence had been due for six months, but opportunity had been +lacking. "I am closely watched and well-known," she had told him, "and +dare not go on secret errands." ... Now at last their chance had come +and had been used with clever circumspectness.... Somewhere on the +Polish boundary lived one of her cousins to whose wedding she was +permitted to travel alone.... She had planned to arrive in Berlin +unannounced and, instead of taking the morning train from Eydtkuhnen, +to take the train of the previous evening. Thus a night was gained +whose history had no necessary place in any family chronicle and the +memories of which could, if need were, be obliterated from one's own +consciousness.... Her arrival and departure had caused a few moments +of really needless anxiety. That was all. No acquaintance had run into +them, no waiter had intimated any suspicion, the very cabby who drove +them through the dawn had preserved his stupid lack of expression when +Niebeldingk suddenly sprang from the vehicle and permitted the lady to +be driven on alone.... + +Before his eyes stood her picture--as he had seen her lying during the +night in his arms, fevered with anxiety and rapture ... Ordinarily +her eyes were large and serene, almost drowsy.... The night had proven +to him what a glow could be kindled in them. Whether her broad brows, +growing together over the nose, could be regarded as a beautiful +feature--that was an open question. He liked them--so much +was certain. + +"Thank heaven," he thought. "At last, once more--a _woman_." + +And he thought of another who for three years had been allied to him +by bonds of the tenderest intimacy and whom he had this +night betrayed. + +"Between us," he consoled himself, "things will remain as they have +been, and I can enjoy my liberty." + +He sprayed his body with the icy water of the douche and rang for John +who stood outside of the door with a bath-robe. + +When, ten minutes later, shivering comfortably, he entered the +breakfast-room, he found beside his cup a little heap of letters which +the morning post had brought. There were two letters that gripped his +attention. + +One read: + +"Berlin N., Philippstrasse 10 a. + +DEAR HERR VON NIEBELDINGK:-- + +For the past week I have been in Berlin studying agriculture, since, +as you know, I am to take charge of the estate. Papa made me promise +faithfully to look you up immediately after my arrival. It is merely +due to the respect I owe you that I haven't kept my promise. As I know +that you won't tell Papa I might as well confess to you that I've +scarcely been sober the whole week.--Oh, Berlin is a deuce of a place! + +If you don't object I will drop in at noon to-morrow and convey Papa's +greetings to you. Papa is again afflicted with the gout. + +With warm regards, + +Your very faithful + +FRITZ VON EHRENBERG." + +The other letter was from ... her--clear, serene, full of such +literary reminiscences as always dwelt in her busy little head. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +I wouldn't ask you: Why do I not see you?--you have not called for +five days--I would wait quietly till your steps led you hither without +persuasion or compulsion; but 'every animal loves itself' as the old +gossip Cicero says, and I feel a desire to chat with you. + +I have never believed, to be sure, that we would remain indispensable +to each other. '_Racine passera comme le cafe_,' Mme. de Sevigne says +somewhere, but I would never have dreamed that we would see so little +of each other before the inevitable end of all things. + +You know the proverb: even old iron hates to rust, and I'm only +twenty-five. + +Come once again, dear Master, if you care to. I have an excellent +cigarette for you--Blum Pasha. I smoke a little myself now and then, +but _c'est plus fort que moi_ and ends in head-ache. + +Joko has at last learned to say 'Richard.' He trills the _r_ +cunningly. He knows that he has little need to be jealous. + +Good-bye! + +ALICE." + +He laughed and brought forth her picture which stood, framed and +glazed, upon his desk. A delicate, slender figure--"_blonde comme les +bles_"--with bluish grey, eager eyes and a mocking expression of the +lips--it was she herself, she who had made the last years of his life +truly livable and whose fate he administered rather than ruled. + +She was the wife of a wealthy mine-owner whose estates abutted on his +and with whom an old friendship, founded on common sports, +connected him. + +One day, suspecting nothing, Niebeldingk entered the man's house and +found him dragging his young wife from room to room by the hair.... +Niebeldingk interfered and felt, in return, the lash of a whip.... +Time and place had been decided upon when the man's physician forbade +the duel.... He had been long suspected, but no certain symptoms had +been alleged, since the brave little woman revealed nothing of the +frightful inwardness of her married life.... Three days later he was +definitely sent to a sanitarium. But between Niebeldingk and Alice the +memory of that last hour of suffering soon wove a thousand threads of +helplessness and pity into the web of love. + +As she had long lost her parents and as she was quite defenceless +against her husband's hostile guardians, the care of her interests +devolved naturally upon him.... He released her from troublesome +obligations and directed her demands toward a safe goal.... Then, very +tenderly, he lifted her with all the roots of her being from the old, +poverty-stricken soil of her earlier years and transplanted her to +Berlin where, by the help of his brother's wife--still gently pressing +on and smoothing the way himself--he created a new way of life +for her. + +In a villa, hidden by foliage from Lake Constance, her husband slowly +drowsed toward dissolution. She herself ripened in the sharp air of +the capital and grew almost into another woman in this banal, +disillusioned world, sober even in its intoxication. + +Of society, from whose official section her fate as well as her +commoner's name separated her, she saw just enough to feel the +influence of the essential conceptions that governed it. + +She lost diffidence and awkwardness, she became a woman of the world +and a connoisseur of life. She learned to condemn one day what she +forgave the next, she learned to laugh over nothing and to grieve over +nothing and to be indignant over nothing. + +But what surprised Niebeldingk more than these small adaptations to +the omnipotent spirit of her new environment, was the deep revolution +experienced by her innermost being. + +She had been a clinging, self-effacing, timid soul. Within three years +she became a determined and calculating little person who lacked +nothing but a certain fixedness to be a complete character. + +A strange coldness of the heart now emanated from her and this was +strengthened by precipitate and often unkindly judgment, supported in +its turn by a desire to catch her own reflection in all things and to +adopt witty points of view. + +Nor was this all. She acquired a desire to learn, which at first +stimulated and amused Niebeldingk, but which had long grown to be +something of a nuisance. + +He himself was held, and rightly held, to be a man of intellect, less +by virtue of rapid perception and flexible thought, than by virtue of +a coolly observant vision of the world, incapable of being confused--a +certain healthy cynicism which, though it never lost an element of +good nature, might yet abash and even chill the souls of men. + +His actual knowledge, however, had remained mere wretched patchwork, +his logic came to an end wherever bold reliance upon the intuitive +process was needed to supply missing links in the ratiocinative chain. + +And so it came to pass that Alice, whom at first he had regarded as +his scholar, his handiwork, his creature, had developed annoyingly +beyond him.... Involuntarily and innocently she delivered the keenest +thrusts. He had, actually, to be on guard.... In the irresponsible +delight of intellectual crudity she solved the deepest problems of +humanity; she repeated, full of faith, the judgments of the ephemeral +rapid writer, instead of venturing upon the sources of knowledge. Yet +even so she impressed him by her faculty of adaptation and her shining +zeal. He was often silenced, for his slow moving mind could not follow +the vagaries of that rapid little brain. + +What would she be at again to-day? "The old gossip Cicero...." And, +"Mme. de Sevigne remarks...." What a rattling and tinkling. It +provoked him. + +And her love! ... That was a bad business. What is one to do with a +mistress who, before falling asleep, is capable of lecturing on +Schopenhauer's metaphysics of sex, and will prove to you up to the +hilt how unworthy it really is to permit oneself to be duped by nature +if one does not share her aim for the generations to come? + +The man is still to be born upon whom such wisdom, uttered at such an +hour--by lips however sweet--does not cast a chill. + +Since that philosophical night he had left untouched the little key +that hung yonder over his desk and that give him, in her house, the +sacred privileges of a husband. And so his life became once more a +hunt after new women who filled his heart with unrest and with the +foolish fires of youth. + +But Alice had never been angry at him. Apparently she lacked +nothing.... + +And his thoughts wandered from her to the woman who had lain against +his breast to-night, shuddering in her stolen joy. + +Heavens! He had almost forgotten one thing! + +He summoned John and said: + +"Go to the florist and order a bunch of Indian lilies. The man knows +what I mean. If he hasn't any, let him procure some by noon." + +John did not move a muscle, but heaven only knew whether he did not +suspect the connection between the Indian lilies and the romance of +the past night. It was in his power to adduce precedents. + +It was an old custom of Niebeldingk's--a remnant of his half out-lived +Don Juan years--to send a bunch of Indian lilies to those women who +had granted him their supreme favours. He always sent the flowers next +morning. Their symbolism was plain and delicate: In spite of what has +taken place you are as lofty and as sacred in my eyes as these pallid, +alien flowers whose home is beside the Ganges. Therefore have the +kindness--not to annoy me with remorse. + +It was a delicate action and--a cynical one. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +At noon--Niebeldingk had just returned from his morning canter--the +visitor, previously announced, was ushered in. + +He was a robust young fellow, long of limb and broad of shoulder. His +face was round and tanned, with hot, dark eyes. With merry boldness, +yet not without diffidence, he sidled, in his blue cheviot suit, +into the room. + +"Morning, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +Enviously and admiringly Niebeldingk surveyed the athletic figure +which moved with springy grace. + +"Morning, my boy ... sober?" + +"In honour of the day, yes." + +"Shall we breakfast?" + +"Oh, with delight, Herr von Niebeldingk!" + +They passed into the breakfast-room where two covers had already been +laid, and while John served the caviare the flood of news burst which +had mounted in their Franconian home during the past months. + +Three betrothals, two important transfers of land, a wedding, Papa's +gout, Mama's charities, Jenny's new target, Grete's flirtation with +the American engineer. And, above all things, the examination! + +"Dear Herr von Niebeldingk, it's a rotten farce. For nine years the +gymnasium trains you and drills you, and in the end you don't get your +trouble's worth! I'm sorry for every hour of cramming I did. They +released me from the oral exam., simply sent me out like a monkey when +I was just beginning to let my light shine! Did you ever hear of such +a thing? _Did_ you ever?" + +"Well, and how about your university work, Fritz?" + +That was a ticklish business, the youth averred. Law and political +science was no use. Every ass took that up. And since it was after all +only his purpose to pass a few years of his green youth profitably, +why he thought he'd stick to his trade and find out how to plant +cabbages properly. + +"Have you started in anywhere yet?" + +Oh, there was time enough. But he had been to some lectures--agronomy +and inorganic chemistry.... You have to begin with inorganic chemistry +if you want to go in for organic. And the latter was agricultural +chemistry which was what concerned him. + +He made these instructive remarks with a serious air and poured down +glass after glass of Madeira. His cheeks began to glow, his heart +expanded. "But that's all piffle, Herr von Niebeldingk, ... all this +book-worm business can go to the devil.... Life--life--life--that's +the main thing!" + +"What do you call life, Fritz?" + +With both hands he stroked the velvety surface of his close-cropped +skull. + +"Well, how am I to tell you? D'you know how I feel? As if I were +standing in front of a great, closed garden ... and I know that all +Paradise is inside ... and occasionally a strain of music floats out +... and occasionally a white garment glitters ... and I'd like to get +in and I can't. That's life, you see. And I've got to stand +miserably outside?" + +"Well, you don't impress me as such a miserable creature?" + +"No, no, in a way, not. On the coarser side, so to speak, I have a +good deal of fun. Out there around _Philippstrasse_ and +_Marienstrasse_ there are women enough--stylish and fine-looking and +everything you want. And my friends are great fellows, too. Every one +can stand his fifteen glasses ... I suppose I am an ass, and perhaps +it's only moral _katzenjammer_ on account of this past week. But when +I walk the streets and see the tall, distinguished houses and think of +all those people and their lives, yonder a millionaire, here a +minister of state, and think that, once upon a time, they were all +crude boys like myself--well, then I have the feeling as if I'd never +attain anything, but always remain what I am." + +"Well, my dear Fritz, the only remedy for that lies in that 'book-worm +business' as you call it. Sit down on your breeches and work!" + +"No, Herr von Niebeldingk, it isn't that either ... let me tell you. +Day before yesterday I was at the opera.... They sang the +_Goetterddmmerung_.... You know, of course. There is _Siegfried_, a +fellow like myself, ... not more than twenty ... I sat upstairs in the +third row with two seamstresses. I'd picked them up in the +_Chausseestrasse_--cute little beasts, too.... But when _Brunhilde_ +stretched out her wonderful, white arms to him and sang: 'On to new +deeds, O hero!' why I felt like taking the two girls by the scruff of +the neck and pitching them down into the pit, I was so ashamed. +Because, you see, _Siegfried_ had his _Brunhilde_ who inspired him to +do great deeds. And what have I? ... A couple of hard cases picked up +in the street." + +"Afterwards, I suppose, you felt more reconciled?" + +"That shows how little you know me. I'd promised the girls supper. So +I had to eat with them. But when that was over I let 'em slide. I +ran about in the streets and just--howled!" + +"Very well, but what exactly are you after?" + +"That's what I don't know, Herr von Niebeldingk. Oh, if I knew! But +it's something quite indefinite--hard to think, hard to comprehend. +I'd like to howl with laughter and I don't know why ... to shriek, and +I don't know what about." + +"Blessed youth!" Niebeldingk thought, and looked at the enthusiastic +boy full of emotion. ... + +John, who was serving, announced that the florist's girl had come with +the Indian lilies. + +"Indian lilies, what sort of lilies are they?" asked Fritz overcome by +a hesitant admiration. + +"You'll see," Niebeldingk answered and ordered the girl to be +admitted. + +She struggled through the door, a half-grown thing with plump red +cheeks and smooth yellow hair. Diffident and frightened, she +nevertheless began to flirt with Fritz. In front of her she held the +long stems of the exotic lilies whose blossoms, like gigantic +narcissi, brooded in star-like rest over chaste and alien dreams. From +the middle of each chalice came a sharp, green shimmer which faded +gently along the petals of the flowers. + +"Confound it, but they're beautiful!" cried Fritz. "Surely they have +quite a peculiar significance." + +Niebeldingk arose, wrote the address without permitting John, who +stood in suspicious proximity, to throw a glance at it, handed cards +and flowers to the girl, gave her a tip, and escorted her to the +door himself. + +"So they do mean something special?" Fritz asked eagerly. He couldn't +get over his enthusiasm. + +"Yes, my boy." + +"And may one know...." + +"Surely, one may know. I give these lilies to that lady whose lofty +purity transcends all doubt--I give them as a symbol of my chaste and +desireless admiration." + +Fritz's eyes shone. + +"Ah, but I'd like to know a lady like that--some day!" he cried and +pressed his hands to his forehead. + +"That will come! That will come!" Niebeldingk tapped the youth's +shoulder calmingly. + +"Will you have some salad?" + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Around the hour of afternoon tea Niebeldingk, true to a dear, old +habit, went to see his friend. + +She inhabited a small second-floor apartment in the _Regentenstrasse_ +which he had himself selected for her when she came as a stranger to +Berlin. With flowers and palms and oriental rugs she had moulded a +delicious retreat, and before her bed-room windows the nightingales +sang in the springtime. + +She seemed to be expecting him. In the great, raised bay, separated +from the rest of the drawing-room by a thicket of dark leaves, the +stout tea-urn was already expectantly humming. + +In a bright, girlish dress, devoid of coquetry or pouting, Alice came +to meet him. + +"I'm glad you're here again, Richard." + +That was all. + +He wanted to launch out into the tale which he had meant to tell her, +but she cut him short. + +"Since when do I demand excuses, Richard? You come and there you are. +And if you don't come, I have to be content too." "You should really +be a little less tolerant," he warned her. + +"A blessed lot it would help me," she answered merrily. + +Gently she took his arm and led him to his old place. Then silently, +and with that restrained eagerness that characterised all her actions +she busied herself with the tea-urn. + +His critical and discriminating gaze followed her movements. With +swift, delicate gestures she pushed forward the Chinese dish, shook +the tea from the canister and poured the first drops of boiling water +through a sieve.... Her quick, bird-like head moved hither and +thither, and the bow of the orange-coloured ribbon which surrounded +her over-delicate neck trembled a little with every motion. + +"She really is the most charming of all," such was the end of his +reflections, "if only she weren't so damnably sensible." + +Silently she took her seat opposite him, folded her white hands in her +lap, and looked into his eyes with such significant archness that he +began to feel embarrassed. + +Had she any suspicion of his infidelities? + +Surely not. No jealous woman can look about her so calmly and +serenely. + +"What have you been doing all this time?" he asked. + +"I? Good heavens! Look about you and you'll see." + +She pointed to a heap of books which lay scattered over the window +seat and sewing table. + +There were Moltke's letters and the memoirs of von Schoen, and Max +Mueller's Aryan studies. Nor was the inevitable Schopenhauer lacking. + +"What are you after with all that learning?" he asked. + +"Ah, dear friend, what is one to do? One can't always be going about +in strange houses. Do you expect me to stand at the window and watch +the clouds float over the old city-wall?" + +He had the uncomfortable impression that she was quoting something +again. + +"My mood," she went on, "is in what Goethe calls the minor of the +soul. It is the yearning that reaches out afar and yet restrains +itself harmoniously within itself. Isn't that beautifully put?" + +"It may be, but it's too high for me!" In laughing self-protection, he +stretched out his arms toward her. + +"Don't make fun of me," she said, slightly shamed, and arose. + +"And what is the object of your yearning?" he asked in order to leave +the realm of Goethe as swiftly as possible. "Not you, you horrible +person," she answered and, for a moment, touched his hair with +her lips. + +"I know that, dearest," he said, "it's a long time since you've sent +me two notes a day." + +"And since you came to see me twice daily," she returned and gazed at +the floor with a sad irony. + +"We have both changed greatly, Alice." + +"We have indeed, Richard." + +A silence ensued. + +His eyes wandered to the opposite wall.... His own picture, framed in +silvery maple-wood, hung there.... Behind the frame appeared a bunch +of blossoms, long faded and shrivelled to a brownish, indistinguishable +heap. + +These two alone knew the significance of the flowers.... + +"Were you at least happy in those days, Alice?" + +"You know I am always happy, Richard." + +"Oh yes, yes; I know your philosophy. But I meant happy with me, +through me?" + +She stroked her delicate nose thoughtfully. The mocking expression +about the corners of her mouth became accentuated. + +"I hardly think so, Richard," she said after an interval. "I was too +much afraid of you ... I seemed so stupid in comparison to you and I +feared that you would despise me." "That fear, at least, you have +overcome very thoroughly?" he asked. + +"Not wholly, Richard. Things have only shifted their basis. Just as, +in those days, I felt ashamed of my ignorance, so now I feel +ashamed--no, that isn't the right word.... But all this stuff that I +store up in my head seems to weigh upon me in my relations with you. I +seem to be a nuisance with it.... You men, especially mature men like +yourself, seem to know all these things better, even when you don't +know them.... The precise form in which a given thought is presented +to us may be new to you, but the thought itself you have long +digested. It's for this reason that I feel intimidated whenever I +approach you with my pursuits. 'You might better have held your +peace,' I say to myself. But what am I to do? I'm so profoundly +interested!" + +"So you really need the society of a rather stupid fellow, one to whom +all this is new and who will furnish a grateful audience?" + +"Stupid? No," she answered, "but he ought to be inexperienced. He +ought himself to want to learn things.... He ought not to assume a +compassionate expression as who should say: 'Ah, my dear child, if you +knew what I know, and how indifferent all those things are to me!' ... +For these things are not indifferent, Richard, not to me, at +least.... And for the sake of the joy I take in them, you ..." + +"Strange how she sees through me," he reflected, "I wonder she clings +to me as she does." + +And while he was trying to think of something that might help her, the +dear boy came into his mind who had to-day divulged to him the sorrows +of youth and whom the unconscious desire for a higher plane of life +had driven weeping through the streets. + +"I know of some one for you." + +Her expression was serious. + +"You know of some one for me," she repeated with painful +deliberateness. + +"Don't misunderstand me. It's a playfellow, a pupil--something in the +nature of a pastime, anything you will." + +He told her the story of _Siegfried_ and the two seamstresses. + +She laughed heartily. + +"I was afraid you wanted to be rid of me," she said, laying her +forehead for a few moments against his sleeve. + +"Shame on you," he said, carelessly stroking her hair. "But what do +you think? Shall I bring the young fellow?" + +"You may very well bring him," she answered. There was a look of pain +about her mouth. "Doesn't one even train young poodles?" + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Three days later, at the same hour of the afternoon, the student, +Fritz von Ehrenberg entered Niebeldingk's study. + +"I have summoned you, dear friend, because I want to introduce you to +a charming young woman," Niebeldingk said, arising from his desk. + +"Now?" Fritz asked, sharply taken aback. + +"Why not?" + +"Why, I'd have to get my--my afternoon coat first and fix myself up a +bit. What is the lady to think of me?" + +"I'll take care of that. Furthermore, you probably know her, at least +by reputation." + +He mentioned the name of her husband which was known far and wide in +their native province. + +Fritz knew the whole story. + +"Poor lady!" he said. "Papa and Mama have often felt sorry for her. I +suppose her husband is still living." + +Niebeldingk nodded. + +"People all said that you were going to marry her." + +"Is _that_ what people said?" "Yes, and Papa thought it would be a +piece of great good fortune." + +"For whom?" + +"I beg your pardon, I suppose that was tactless, Herr von +Niebeldingk." + +"It was, dear Fritz.--But don't worry about it, just come." + +The introduction went smoothly. Fritz behaved as became the son of a +good family, was respectful but not stiff, and answered her friendly +questions briefly and to the point. + +"He's no discredit to me," Niebeldingk thought. + +As for Alice, she treated her young guest with a smiling, motherly +care which was new in her and which filled Niebeldingk with quiet +pleasure.... On other occasions she had assumed toward young men a +tone of wise, faint interest which meant clearly: "I will exhaust your +possibilities and then drop you." To-day she showed a genuine sympathy +which, though its purpose may have been to test him the more sharply, +seemed yet to bear witness to the pure and free humanity of her soul. + +She asked him after his parental home and was charmed with his naive +rapture at escaping the psychical atmosphere of the cradle-songs of +his mother's house. She was also pleased with his attitude toward his +younger brothers and sisters, equally devoid, as it was, of +exaggeration or condescension. Everything about him seemed to her +simple and sane and full of ardour after information and maturity. + +Niebeldingk sat quietly in his corner ready, at need, to smooth over +any outbreak of uncouth youthfulness. But there was no occasion. Fritz +confined himself within the limits of modest liberty and used his mind +vigorously but with devout respect and delighted obedience. Once only, +when the question of the necessity of authority came up, did he +go far. + +"I don't give a hang for any authority," he said. "Even the mild +compulsion of what are called high-bred manners may go to the +deuce for me!" + +Niebeldingk was about to interfere with some reconciling remark when +he observed, to his astonishment, that Alice who, as a rule, was +bitterly hostile to all strident unconventionality, had taken +no offence. + +"Let him be, Niebeldingk," she said. "As far as he is concerned he is, +doubtless, in the right. And nothing would be more shameful than if +society were already to begin to make a featureless model boy of him." + +"That will never be, I swear to you, dear lady," cried Fritz all aglow +and stretching out his hands to ward off imaginary chains. +Niebeldingk smiled and thought: "So much the better for him." Then he +lit a fresh cigarette. + +The conversation turned to learned things. Fritz, paraphrasing +Tacitus, vented his hatred of the Latin civilisations. Alice agreed +with him and quoted Mme. de Stael. Niebeldingk arose, quietly meeting +the reproachful glance of his beloved. + +Fritz jumped up simultaneously, but Niebeldingk laughingly pushed him +back into his seat. + +"You just stay," he said, "our dear friend is only too eager to +slaughter a few more peoples." + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When he dropped in at Alice's a few days later he found her sitting, +hot-cheeked and absorbed, over Strauss's _Life of Jesus_. + +"Just fancy," she said, holding up her forehead for his kiss, "that +young poodle of yours is making me take notice. He gives me +intellectual nuts to crack. It's strange how this young generation--" + +"I beg of you, Alice," he interrupted her, "you are only a very few +years his senior." + +"That may be so," she answered, "but the little education I have +derives from another epoch.... I am, metaphysically, as unexacting as +the people of your generation. A certain fogless freedom of thought +seemed to me until to-day the highest point of human development." + +"And Fritz von Ehrenberg, student of agriculture, has converted you to +a kind of thoughtful religiosity?" he asked, smiling good-naturedly. + +In her zeal she wasn't even aware of his irony. + +"We're not going to give in so easily.... But it is strange what an +impression is made on one by a current of strong and natural +feeling.... This young fellow comes to me and says: 'There is a God, +for I feel Him and I need Him. Prove the contrary if you can.' ... +Well, so I set about proving the contrary to him. But our poor +negations have become so glib that one has forgotten the reasons for +them. Finally he defeated me along the whole line ... so I sat down at +once and began to study up ... just as one would polish rusty weapons +... Bible criticism and DuBois-Reymond and 'Force and Matter' and all +the things that are traditionally irrefutable." + +"And that amuses you?" he asked compassionately. + +A theoretical indignation took hold of her that always amused him +greatly. + +"Does it amuse me? Are such things proper subjects for amusement? +Surely you must use other expressions, Richard, when one is concerned +for the most sacred goods of humanity...." + +"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't mean to touch those things +irreverently." + +She stroked his arm softly, thus dumbly asking forgiveness in her +turn. + +"But now," she continued, "I am equipped once more, and when he comes +to-morrow--" + +"So he's coming to-morrow?" + +"Naturally, ... then you will see how I'll send him home sorely +whipped ... I can defeat him with Kant's antinomies alone.... And +when it comes to what people call 'revelation,' well! ... But I assure +you, my dear one, I'm not very happy defending this icy, nagging +criticism.... To be quite sincere, I would far rather be on his side. +Warmth is there and feeling and something positive to support one. +Would you like some tea?" + +"Thanks, no, but some brandy." + +Rapidly brushing the waves of hair from her drawn forehead she ran +into the next room and returned with the bottle bearing three stars on +its label from which she herself took a tiny drop occasionally--"when +my mind loses tone for study" as she was wont to say in +self-justification. + +A crimson afterglow, reflected from the walls of the houses opposite, +filled the little drawing-room in which the mass of feminine ornaments +glimmered and glittered. + +"I've really become quite a stranger here," he thought, regarding all +these things with the curiosity of one who has come after an absence. +From each object hung, like a dewdrop, the memory of some +exquisite hour. + +"You look about you so," Alice said with an undertone of anxiety in +her voice, "don't you like it here any longer?" + +"What are you thinking of," he exclaimed, "I like it better daily." +She was about to reply but fell silent and looked into space with a +smile of wistful irony. + +"If I except the _Life of Jesus_ and the Kantian--what do you call the +things?" + +"Antinomies." + +"Aha--_anti_ and _nomos_--I understand--well, if I except these dusty +superfluities, I may say that your furnishings are really faultless. +The quotations from Goethe are really more appropriate, although I +could do without them." + +"I'll have them swept out," she said in playful submission. + +"You are a dear girl," he said playfully and passed his hand +caressingly over her severely combed hair. + +She grasped his arm with both hands and remained motionless for a +moment during which her eyes fastened themselves upon his with a +strangely rigid gleam. + +"What evil have I done?" he asked. "Do you remember our childhood's +verse: 'I am small, my heart is pure?' Have mercy on me." + +"I was only playing at passion," she said with the old half-wistful, +half-mocking smile, "in order that our relations may not lose solid +ground utterly." + +"What do you mean?" he asked, pretending astonishment. "And do you +really think, Richard, that between us, things, being as they +are--are right?" + +"I can't imagine any change that could take place at present." + +She hid a hot flush of shame. She was obviously of the opinion that he +had interpreted her meaning in the light of a desire for marriage. All +earthly possibilities had been discussed between them: this one alone +had been sedulously avoided in all their conversations. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he continued, determined to skirt the +dangerous subject with grace and ease, "there's no question here of +anything external, of any change of front with reference to the world. +It's far too late for that. ... Let us remain--if I may so put it--in +our spiritual four walls. Given our characters or, I had better say, +given your character I see no other relation between us that promises +any permanence.... If I were to pursue you with a kind of infatuation, +or you me with jealousy--it would be insupportable to us both." + +She did not reply but gently rolled and unrolled the narrow, blue silk +scarf of her gown. + +"As it is, we live happily and at peace," he went on, "Each of us has +liberty and an individual existence and yet we know how deeply rooted +our hearts are in each other." + +She heaved a sigh of painful oppression. "Aren't you content?" he +asked, + +"For heaven's sake! Surely!" Her voice was frightened, "No one could +be more content than I. If only----" + +"Well--what?" + +"If only it weren't for the lonely evenings!" + +A silence ensued. This was a sore point and had always been. He knew +it well. But he had to have his evenings to himself. There was nothing +to be done about that. + +"You musn't think me immodest in my demands," she went on in hasty +exculpation. "I'm not even aiming my remarks at you ... I'm only +thinking aloud.... But you see, I can't get any real foothold in +society until--until my affairs are more clarified.... To run about +the drawing-rooms as an example of frivolous heedlessness--that's not +my way.... I can always hear them whisper behind me: 'She doesn't take +it much to heart, that shows ...' No, I'd rather stay at home. I have +no friends either and what chance had I to make them? You were always +my one and only friend.... My books remain. And that's very well by +day ... but when the lamps are lit I begin to throb and ache and run +about ... and I listen for the trill of the door-bell. But no one +comes, nothing--except the evening paper. And that's only in winter. +Now it's brought before dusk. And in the end there's nothing worth +while in it.... And so life goes day after day. At last one creeps +into bed at half-past nine and, of course, has a wretched night." + +"Well, but how am I to help you, dear child?" he asked thoughtfully. +He was touched by her quiet, almost serene complaint. "If we took to +passing our evenings together, scandal would soon have us by the +throat, and then--woe to you!" + +Her eager eyes gazed bravely at him. + +"Well," she said at last, "suppose----" + +"What?" + +"Never mind. I don't want you to think me unwomanly. And what I've +been describing to you is, after all, only a symptom. There's a kind +of restlessness in me that I can't explain.... If I were of a less +active temper, things would be better.... It sounds paradoxical, but +just because I have so much activity in me, do I weary so quickly. +Goethe said once----" + +He raised his hands in laughing protest. + +She was really frightened. + +"Ah, yes, forgive me," she cried. "All that was to be swept out.... +How forgetful one can be...." + +Smiling, she leaned her head against his shoulder and was not to be +persuaded from her silence. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +"There are delicate boundaries within the realm of the eternal +womanly,"--thus Niebeldingk reflected next day,--"in which one is +sorely puzzled as to what one had better put into an envelope: a poem +or a cheque." + +His latest adventure--the cause of these reflections--had blossomed, +the evening before, like the traditional rose on the dungheap. + +One of his friends who had travelled about the world a good deal and +who now assumed the part of the full-blown Parisian, had issued +invitations to a house-warming in his new bachelor-apartment. He had +invited a number of his gayer friends and ladies exclusively from +so-called artistic circles. So far all was quite Parisian. Only the +journalists who might, next morning, have proclaimed the glory of the +festivity to the world--these were excluded. Berlin, for various +reasons, did not seem an appropriate place for that. + +It was a rather dreary sham orgy. Even chaperones were present. +Several ladies had carefully brought them and they could scarcely be +put out. Other ladies even thought it incumbent upon them to ask after +the wives of the gentlemen present and to turn up their noses when it +appeared that these were conspicuous by their absence. It was upon +this occasion, however, that some beneficent chance assigned to +Niebeldingk a sighing blonde who remained at his side all evening. + +Her name was Meta, she belonged to one of the "best families" of +Posen, she lived in Berlin with her mother who kept a boarding house +for ladies of the theatre. She herself nursed the ardent desire to +dedicate herself to art, for "the ideal" had always been the guiding +star of her existence. + +At the beginning of supper she expressed herself with a fine +indignation concerning the ladies present into whose midst--she +assured him eagerly--she had fallen through sheer accident. Later she +thawed out, assumed a friendly companionableness to these despised +individuals and, in order to raise Niebeldingk's delight to the +highest point, admitted with maidenly frankness the indescribable and +mysterious attraction toward him which she had felt at the +first glance. + +Of course, her principles were impregnable. He mustn't doubt that. She +would rather seek a moist death in the waves than.... and so forth. +Although she made this solemn proclamation over the dessert, the +consequence of it all was an intimate visit to Niebeldingk's dwelling +which came to a bitter sweet end at three o'clock in the morning with +gentle tears concerning the wickedness of men in general and of +himself in particular.... + +An attack of _katzenjammer_--such as is scarcely ever spared worldly +people of forty--threw a sobering shadow upon this event. The shadow +crept forward too, and presaged annoyance. + +He was such an old hand now, and didn't even know into what category +she really fitted. Was it, after all, impossible that behind all this +frivolity the desire to take up the struggle for existence on cleanly +terms stuck in her little head? + +At all events he determined to spare the possible wounding of outraged +womanliness and to wait before putting any final stamp upon the nature +of their relations. Hence he set out to play the tender lover by means +of the well-tried device of a bunch of Indian lilies. + +When he was about to give the order for the flowers to John who +always, upon these occasions, assumed a conscientiously stupid +expression, a new doubt overcame him. + +Was he not desecrating the gift which had brought consolation and +absolution to many a remorseful heart, by sending it to a girl who, +for all he knew, played a sentimental part only as a matter of decent +form? ... Wasn't there grave danger of her assuming an undue +self-importance when she felt that she was taken tragically? + +"Well, what did it matter? ... A few flowers! ..." + +Early on the evening of the next day Meta reappeared. She was dressed +in sombre black. She wept persistently and made preparations to stay. + +Niebeldingk gave her to understand that, in the first place, he had no +more time for her that evening, and that, in the second place, she +would do well to go home at a proper hour and spare herself the +reproaches of her mother. + +"Oh, my little mother, my little mother," she wailed. "How shall I +ever present myself to her sight again? Keep me, my beloved! I can +never approach my, mother again." + +He rang for his hat and gloves. + +When she saw that he was serious she wept a few more perfunctory tears +and went. + +Her visits repeated themselves and didn't become any more delightful. +On the contrary ... the heart-broken maiden gave him to understand +that her lost honour could be restored only by the means of a speedy +marriage. This exhausted his patience. He saw that he had been +thoroughly taken in and so, observing all necessary considerateness, +he sent her definitely about her business. + +Next day the "little mother" appeared on the scene. She was a +dignified woman of fifty, equipped as the Genius of Vengeance, +exceedingly glib of tongue and by no means sentimental. + +As she belonged to one of the first families of Posen, it was her duty +to lay particular stress upon the honour of her daughter whom he had +lured to his house and there wickedly seduced. ... She was prepared to +repel any overtures toward a compromise. She belonged to one of the +best families of Posen and was not prepared to sell her daughter's +virtue. The only possible way of adjusting the matter was an +immediate marriage. + +Thereupon she began to scream and scold and John, who acted as master +of ceremonies, escorted her with a patronising smile to the door.... + +Next came the visits of an old gentleman in a Prince Albert and the +ribbon of some decoration in his button-hole.--John had strict orders +to admit no strangers. But the old gentleman was undaunted. He came +morning, noon and night and finally settled down on the stairs where +Niebeldingk could not avoid meeting him. He was the uncle of Miss +Meta, a former servant of the government and a knight of several +honourable orders. As such it was his duty to demand the immediate +restitution of his niece's honour, else--Niebeldingk simply turned his +back and the knight of several honourable orders trotted, grumbling, +down the stairs. + +Up to this point Niebeldingk had striven to regard the whole business +in a humorous light. It now began It now began to promise serious +annoyance. He told the story at his club and the men laughed +boisterously, but no one knew anything to the detriment of Miss Meta. +She had been introduced by a lady who played small parts at a large +theatre and important parts at a small one. The lady was called to +account for her protegee. She refused to speak. + +"It's all the fault of those accursed Indian lilies," Niebeldingk +grumbled one afternoon at his window as he watched the knight of +various honourable orders parade the street as undaunted as ever. "Had +I treated her with less delicacy, she would never have risked playing +the part of an innocent victim." + +At that moment John announced Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +The boy came in dressed in an admirably fitting summer suit. He was +radiant with youth and strength, victory gleamed in his eye; a hymn of +victory seemed silently singing on his lips. + +"Well Fritz, you seem merry," said Niebeldingk and patted the boy's +shoulder. He could not suppress a smile of sad envy. + +"Don't ask me! Why shouldn't I be happy? Life is so beautiful, yes, +beautiful. Only you musn't have any dealings with women. That plays +the deuce with one." + +"You don't know yourself how right you are," Niebeldingk sighed, +looking out of the corner of an eye at the knight of several +honourable orders who had now taken up his station in the shelter of +the house opposite. + +"Oh, but I do know it," Fritz answered. "If I could describe to you +the contempt with which I regard my former mode of life ... everything +is different ... different ... so much purer ... nobler ... I'm +absolutely a stoic now.... And that gives one a feeling of such peace, +such serenity! And I have you to thank for it, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +"I don't understand that. To teach in the _stoa_ is a new employment +for me." + +"Well, didn't you introduce me to that noble lady? Wasn't it you?" + +"Aha," said Niebeldingk. The image of Alice, smiling a gentle +reproach, arose before him. + +In the midst of this silly and sordid business that had overtaken him, +he had almost lost sight of her. More than a week had passed since he +had crossed her threshold. + +"How is the dear lady?" he asked. + +"Oh, splendid," Fritz said, "just splendid." + +"Have you seen her often?" + +"Certainly," Fritz replied, "we're reading Marcus Aurelius together +now." + +"Thank heaven," Niebeldingk laughed, "I see that she's well taken care +of." + +He made up his mind to see her within the next hour. + +Fritz who had only come because he needed to overflow to some one with +the joy of life that was in him, soon started to go. + +At the door he turned and said timidly and with downcast eyes. + +"I have one request to make----" + +"Fire away, Fritz! How much?" + +"Oh, I don't need money ... I'd like to have the address of your +florist ...I'd like to send to the dear lady a bunch of the ... the +Indian lilies." + +"What? Are you mad?" Niebeldingk cried. + +"Why do you ask that?" Fritz was hurt. "May I not also send that +symbol to a lady whose purity and loftiness of soul I reverence. I +suppose I'm old enough!" + +"I see. You're quite right. Forgive me." Niebeldingk bit his lips and +gave the lad the address. + +Fritz thanked him and went. + +Niebeldingk gave way to his mirth and called for his hat. He wanted to +go to her at once. But--for better or worse--he changed his mind, for +yonder in the gateway, unabashed, stood the knight of several +honourable orders. + + + + +Chapter VII + + +To be sure, one can't stand eternally in a gateway. Finally the knight +deserted his post and vanished into a sausage shop. The hour had come +when even the most glowing passion of revenge fades gently into a +passion for supper. + +Niebeldingk who had waited behind his curtain, half-amused, +half-bored--for in the silent, distinguished street where everyone +knew him a scandal was to be avoided at any cost--Niebeldingk hastened +to make up for his neglect at once. + +The dark fell. Here and there the street-lamps flickered through the +purple air of the summer dusk.... + +The maid who opened the door looked at him with cool astonishment as +though he were half a stranger who had the audacity to pay a call at +this intimate hour. + +"That means a scolding," he thought. + +But he was mistaken. + +Smiling quietly, Alice arose from the couch where she had been sitting +by the light of a shaded lamp and stretched out her hand with all her +old kindliness. The absence of the otherwise inevitable book was the +only change that struck him. + +"We haven't seen each other for a long time," he said, making a +wretched attempt at an explanation. + +"Is it so long?" she asked frankly. + +"Thank you for your gentle punishment." He kissed her hand. Then he +chatted, more or less at random, of disagreeable business matters, of +preparations for a journey, and so forth. + +"So you are going away?" she asked tensely. + +The word had escaped him, he scarcely knew how. Now that he had +uttered it, however, he saw very clearly that nothing better remained +for him to do than to carry the casual thought into action.... Here he +passed a fruitless, enervating life, slothful, restless and +humiliating; at home there awaited him light, useful work, dreamless +sleep, and the tonic sense of being the master. + +All that, in other days, held him in Berlin, namely, this modest, +clever, flexible woman had almost passed from his life. Steady neglect +had done its work. If he went now, scarcely the smallest gap would be +torn into the fabric of his life. + +Or did it only seem so? Was she more deeply rooted in his heart than +he had ever confessed even to himself? They were both silent. She +stood very near him and sought to read the answer to her question in +his eyes. A kind of anxious joy appeared upon her slightly +worn features. + +"I'm needed at home," he said at last. "It is high time for me. If you +desire I'll look after your affairs too." + +"Mine? Where?" + +"Well, I thought we were neighbours there--more than here. Or have you +forgotten the estate?" + +"Let us leave aside the matter of being neighbours," she answered, +"and I don't suppose that I have much voice in the management of the +estate as long as--he lives. The guardians will see to that." + +"But you could run down there once in a while ... in the summer for +instance. Your place is always ready for you. I saw to that." + +"Ah, yes, you saw to that." The wistful irony that he had so often +noted was visible again. + +For the first time he understood its meaning. + +"She has made things too easy for me," he reflected. "I should have +felt my chains. Then, too, I would have realised what I possessed +in her." + +But did he not still possess her? What, after all, had changed since +those days of quiet companionship? Why should he think of her as +lost to him? + +He could not answer this question. But he felt a dull restlessness. A +sense of estrangement told him: All is not here as it was. + +"Since when do you live in dreams, Alice?" he asked, surveying the +empty table by which he had found her. + +His question had been innocent, but it seemed to carry a sting. She +blushed and looked past him. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Good heavens, to sit all evening without books and let the light burn +in vain--that was not your wont heretofore." + +"Oh, that's it. Ah well, one can't be poking in books all the time. +And for the past few days my eyes have been aching." + +"With secret tears?" he teased. + +She gave him a wide, serious look. + +"With secret tears," she repeated. + +"_Ah perfido_!" he trilled, in order to avoid the scene which he +feared ... But he was on the wrong scent. She herself interrupted him +with the question whether he would stay to supper. + +He was curious to find the causes of the changes that he felt here. +For that reason and also because he was not without compunction, he +consented to stay. + +She rang and ordered a second cover to be laid. + +Louise looked at her mistress with a disapproving glance and went. + +"Dear me," he laughed, "the servants are against me ... I am lost." + +"You have taken to noticing such things very recently." She gave a +perceptible shrug. + +"When a wife tells a husband of his newly acquired habits, he is +doubly lost," he answered and gave her his arm. + +The silver gleamed on the table ... the tea-kettle puffed out delicate +clouds ... exquisitely tinted apples, firm as in Autumn, smiled +at him. + +A word of admiration escaped him. And then, once more, he saw that +tragic smile on her lips--sad, wistful, almost compassionate. + +"My darling," he said with sudden tenderness and caressed her +shoulder. + +She nodded and smiled. That was all. + +At table her mood was an habitual one. Perhaps she was a trifle +gentler. He attributed that to his approaching departure. + +She drank a glass of Madeira at the beginning of the meal, the light +Rhine wine she took in long, thirsty draughts, she even touched the +brandy at the meal's end. + +An inner fire flared in her. He suspected that, he felt it. She had +touched no food. But she permitted nothing to appear on the surface. +On the contrary, the emotional warmth that she had shown earlier +disappeared. The play of her thoughts grew cooler, clearer, more +cutting, the longer she talked. + +Twice or thrice quotations from Goethe were about to escape her, but +she did not utter them. Smiling she tapped her own lips. + +When he observed that she was really restraining a genuine impulse he +begged her to consider the protest he had once uttered as merely a +jest, perhaps even an ill-considered one. But she said: "Let be, it +is as well." + +They conversed, as they had often done, of the perished days of their +old love. They spoke like two beings who have long conquered all the +struggles of the heart and who, in the calm harbour of friendship, +regard with equanimity the storms which they have weathered. + +This way of speaking had gradually, and with a kind of jocular +moroseness, crept into their intercourse. The exciting thing about it +was the silent reservation felt by both: We know how different things +could be, so soon as we desired. To-day, for the first time, this +game at renunciation seemed to become serious. + +"How strange!" he thought. "Here we sit who are dearest to each other +in all the world and a kind of futile arrogance drives us farther and +farther apart." + +Alice arose. + +He kissed her, as was his wont, upon hand and forehead and noted how +she turned aside with a slight shiver. Then suddenly she took his head +in both her hands and kissed him full on the lips with a kind of +desperate eagerness. + +"Ah," he cried, "what is that? It's more than I have a right to +expect." + +"Forgive me," she said, withdrawing herself at once. "We're poverty +stricken folk and haven't much to give each other." + +"After what I have just experienced, I'm inclined to believe the +contrary." + +But she seemed little inclined to draw the logical consequences of her +action. Quietly she gave him his wonted cigarette, lit her own, and +sat down in her old place. With rounded lips she blew little clouds of +smoke against the table-cover. + +"Whenever I regard you in this manner," he said, carefully feeling his +way, "it always seems to me that you have some silent reservation, as +though you were waiting for something." "It may be," she answered, +blushing anew, "I sit by the way-side, like the man in the story, and +think of the coming of my fate." + +"Fate? What fate?" + +"Ah, who can tell, dear friend? That which one foresees is no longer +one's fate!" + +"Perhaps it's just the other way." + +She drew back sharply and looked past him in tense thoughtfulness. +"Perhaps you are right," she said, with a little mysterious sigh. "It +may be as you say." + +He was no wiser than he had been. But since he held it beneath his +dignity to assume the part of the jealous master, he abandoned the +search for her secrets with a shrug. The secrets could be of no great +importance. No one knew better than himself the moderateness of her +desires, no lover, in calm possession of his beloved, had so little to +fear as he.... + +They discussed their plans for the Summer. He intended to go to the +North Sea in Autumn, an old affection attracted her to Thuringia. The +possibility of their meeting was touched only in so far as courtesy +demanded it. + +And once more silence fell upon the little drawing-room. Through the +twilight an old, phantastic Empire clock announced the hurrying +minutes with a hoarse tick. + +In other days a magical mood had often filled this room--the presage +of an exquisite flame and its happy death. All that had vibrated here. +Nothing remained. They had little to say to each other. That was what +time had left. + +He played thoughtfully with his cigarette. She stared into nothingness +with great, dreamy eyes. + +And suddenly she began to weep ... + +He almost doubted his own perception, but the great glittering tears +ran softly down her smiling face. + +But he was satiated with women's tears. In the fleeting amatory +adventures of the past weeks and months, he had seen so many--some +genuine, some sham, all superfluous. And so instead of consoling her, +he conceived a feeling of sarcasm and nausea: "Now even she +carries on!".... + +The idea did indeed flash into his mind that this moment might be +decisive and pregnant with the fate of the future, but his horror of +scenes and explanations restrained him. + +Wearily he assumed the attitude of one above the storms of the soul +and sought a jest with which to recall her to herself. But before he +found it she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and slipped from +the room. + +"So much the better," he thought and lit a fresh cigarette, "If she +lets her passion spend itself in silence it will pass the +more swiftly." + +Walking up and down he indulged in philosophic reflections concerning +the useless emotionality of woman, and the duty of man not to be +infected by it ... He grew quite warm in the proud consciousness of +his heart's coldness. + +Then suddenly--from the depth of the silence that was about +him--resounded in a long-drawn, shrill, whirring voice that he had +never heard--his own name. + +"Rrricharrd!" it shrilled, stern and hard as the command of some +paternal martinet. The voice seemed to come from subterranean depths. + +He shivered and looked about. Nothing moved. There was no living soul +in the next room. + +"Richard!" the voice sounded a second time. This time the sound seemed +but a few paces from him, but it arose from the ground as though a +teasing goblin lay under his chair. + +He bent over and peered into dark corners. + +The mystery was solved: Joko, Alice's parrot, having secretly stolen +from his quarters, sat on the rung of a chair and played the evil +conscience of the house. + +The tame animal stepped with dignity upon his outstretched hand and +permitted itself to be lifted into the light.... Its glittering +neck-feathers stood up, and while it whetted its beak on Niebeldingk's +cuff-links, it repeated in a most subterranean voice: "Richard!" + +And suddenly the dear feeling of belonging here, of being at home came +over Niebeldingk. He had all but lost it. But its gentle power drew +him on and refreshed him. + +It was his right and his duty to be at home here where a dear woman +lived so exclusively for him that the voice of her yearning sounded +even from the tongue of the brute beast that she possessed! There was +no possibility of feeling free and alien here. + +"I must find her!" he thought quickly, "I musn't leave her alone +another second." + +He set Joko carefully on the table and sought to reach her bed-room +which he had never entered by this approach. + +In the door that led to the rear hall she met him. Her demeanour had +its accustomed calm, her eyes were clear and dry. + +"My poor, dear darling!" he cried and wanted to take her in his arms. + +A strange, repelling glance met him and interrupted his beautiful +emotion. Something hardened in him and he felt a new inclination +to sarcasm. + +"Forgive me for leaving you," she said, "one must have patience with +the folly of my sex. You know that well." + +And she preceded him to his old place. + +Screaming with pleasure Joko flew forward to meet her, and Niebeldingk +remained standing to take his leave. + +She did not hold him back. + +Outside it occurred to him that he hadn't told her the anecdote of +Fritz and the Indian lilies. + +"It's a pity," he thought, "it might have cheered her." ... + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +Next morning Niebeldingk sat at his desk and reflected with +considerable discomfort on the experience of the previous evening. +Suddenly he observed, across the street, restlessly waiting in the +same doorway--the avenging spirit! + +It was an opportune moment. It would distract him to make an example +of the fellow. Nothing better could have happened. + +He rang for John and ordered him to bring up the wretched fellow and, +furthermore, to hold himself in readiness for an act of vigorous +expulsion. + +Five minutes passed. Then the door opened and, diffidently, but with a +kind of professional dignity, the knight of several honourable orders +entered the room. + +Niebeldingk made rapid observations: A beardless, weatherworn old face +with pointed, stiff, white brows. The little, watery eyes knew how to +hide their cunning, for nothing was visible in them save an expression +of wonder and consternation. The black frock coat was threadbare but +clean, his linen was spotless. He wore a stock which had been the +last word of fashion at the time of the July revolution. + +"A sharper of the most sophisticated sort," Niebeldingk concluded. + +"Before any discussion takes place," he said sharply. "I must know +with whom I am dealing." + +The old man drew off with considerable difficulty his torn, gray, +funereal gloves and, from the depths of a greasy pocket-book, produced +a card which had, evidently, passed through a good many hands. + +"A sharper," Niebeldingk repeated to himself, "but on a pretty low +plane." He read the card: "Kohleman, retired clerk of court." And +below was printed the addition: "Knight of several orders." + +"What decorations have you?" he asked. + +"I have been very graciously granted the Order of the Crown, fourth +class, and the general order for good behaviour." + +"Sit down," Niebeldingk replied, impelled by a slight instinctive +respect. + +"Thank you, I'll take the liberty," the old gentleman answered and sat +down on the extreme edge of a chair. + +"Once on the stairs you--" he was about to say "attacked me," but he +repressed the words. "I know," he began, "what your business is. +And now tell me frankly: Do you think any man in the world such a fool +as to contemplate marriage because a frivolous young thing whose +acquaintance he made at a supper given to 'cocottes' accompanies him, +in the middle of the night, to his bachelor quarters? Do you think +that a reasonable proposition?" + +"No," the old gentleman answered with touching honesty. "But you know +it's pretty discouraging to have Meta get into that kind of a mess. +I've had my suspicions for some time that that baggage is a keener, +and I've often said to my sister: 'Look here, these theatrical women +are no proper company for a girl--'" + +"Well then," Niebeldingk exclaimed, overcome with astonishment, "if +that's the case, what are you after?" + +"I?" the old gentleman quavered and pointed a funereal glove at his +breast, "I? Oh, dear sakes alive! I'm not after anything. Do you +imagine, my dear sir, that I get any fun out of tramping up and down +in front of your house on my old legs? I'd rather sit in a corner and +leave strange people to their own business. But what can I do? I live +in my sister's house, and I do pay her a little board, for I'd never +take a present, not a penny--that was never my way. But what I pay +isn't much, you know, and so I have to make myself a bit useful in the +boarding-house. The ladies have little errands, you know. And they're +quite nice, too, except that they get as nasty as can be if their +rooms aren't promptly cleaned in the morning, and so I help with the +dusting, too ... If only it weren't for my asthma ... I tell, you, +asthma, my dear sir--" + +He stopped for an attack of coughing choked him. + +With a sudden kindly emotion Niebeldingk regarded the terrible avenger +in horror of whom he had lived four mortal days. He told him to +stretch his poor old legs and asked him whether he'd like a glass +of Madeira. + +The old gentleman's face brightened. If it would surely give no +trouble he would take the liberty of accepting. + +Niebeldingk rang and John entered with a grand inquisitorial air. He +recoiled when he saw the monster so comfortable and, for the first +time in his service, permitted himself a gentle shake of the head. + +The old gentleman emptied his glass in one gulp and wiped his mouth +with a brownish cotton handkerchief. Fragments of tobacco flew about. +He looked so tenderly at the destroyer of his family as though he had +a sneaking desire to join the enemy. + +"Well, well," he began again. "What's to be done? If my sister takes +something into her head.... And anyhow, I'll tell you in confidence, +she is a devil. Oh deary me, what I have to put up with from her! It's +no good getting into trouble with her! ... If you want to avoid any +unpleasantness, I can only advise you to consent right away.... You +can back out later.... But that would be the easiest way." + +Niebeldingk laughed heartily. + +"Yes, you can laugh," the old gentleman said sadly, "that's because +you don't know my sister." + +"But _you_ know her, my dear man. And do you suppose that she may have +other, that is to say, financial aims, while she----" + +The old gentleman looked at him with great scared eyes. + +"How do you mean?" he said and crushed the brown handkerchief in his +hollow hand. + +"Well, well, well," Niebeldingk quieted him and poured a reconciling +second glass of wine. + +But he wasn't to be bribed. + +"Permit me, my dear sir," he said, "but you misunderstand me +entirely.... Even if I do help my sister in the house, and even if I +do go on errands, I would never have consented to go on such an +one.... I said to my sister: It's marriage or nothing.... We don't go +in for blackmail, of that you may be sure." "Well, my dear man," +Niebeldingk laughed, "If that's the alternative, then--nothing!" + +The old gentleman grew quite peaceable again. + +"Goodness knows, you're quite right. But you will have +unpleasantnesses, mark my word. ... And if she has to appeal to the +Emperor, my sister said. And my sister--I mention it quite in +confidence--my sister--" + +"Is a devil, I understand." + +"Exactly." + +He laughed slyly as one who is getting even with an old enemy and +drank, with every evidence of delight, the second glassful of wine. + +Niebeldingk considered. Whether unfathomable stupidity or equally +unfathomable sophistication lay at the bottom of all this--the +business was a wretched one. It was just such an affair as would be +dragged through every scandal mongering paper in the city, thoroughly +equipped, of course, with the necessary moral decoration. He could +almost see the heavy headlines: Rascality of a Nobleman. + +"Yes, yes, my dear fellow," he said, and patted the terrible enemy's +shoulder, "I tell you it's a dog's life. If you can avoid it any +way--never go in for fast living." + +The old gentleman shook his gray head sadly. + +"That's all over," he declared, "but twenty years ago--" +Niebeldingk cut short the approaching confidences. + +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked. "And what will your +sister do when you come home and announce my refusal?" + +"I'll tell you, Baron. In fact, my sister required that I _should_ +tell you, because that is to--" he giggled--"that is to have a +profound effect. We've got a nephew, I must tell you, who's a +lieutenant in the army. Well, he is to come at once and challenge you +to a duel.... Well, now, a duel is always a pretty nasty piece of +business. First, there's the scandal, and then, one _might_ get hurt. +And so my sister thought that you'd rather----" + +"Hold on, my excellent friend," said Niebeldingk and a great weight +rolled from his heart. "You have an officer in your family? That's +splendid ... I couldn't ask anything better ... You wire him at once +and tell him that I'll be at home three days running and ready to give +him the desired explanations. I'm sorry for the poor fellow for being +mixed up in such a stupid mess, but I can't help him." + +"Why do you feel sorry for him?" the old gentleman asked. "He's as +good a marksman as you are." + +"Assuredly," Niebeldingk returned. "Assuredly a better one.... Only it +won't come to that." + +He conducted his visitor with great ceremony into the outer hall. + +The latter remained standing for a moment in the door. He grasped +Niebeldingk's hand with overflowing friendliness. + +"My dear baron, you have been so nice to me and so courteous. Permit +me, in return, to offer you an old man's counsel: Be more careful +about flowers!" + +"What flowers?" + +"Well, you sent a great, costly bunch of them. That's what first +attracted my sister's attention. And when my sister gets on the track +of anything, well!" ... + +He shook with pleasure at the sly blow he had thus delivered, drew +those funereal gloves of his from the crown of his hat and took +his leave. + +"So it was the fault of the Indian lilies," Niebeldingk thought, +looking after the queer old knight with an amused imprecation. That +gentleman, enlivened by the wine he had taken, pranced with a new +flexibility along the side-walk. "Like the count in _Don Juan_," +Niebeldingk thought, "only newly equipped and modernised." + +The intervention of the young officer placed the whole affair upon +an intelligible basis. It remained only to treat it with entire +seriousness. Niebeldingk, according to his promise, remained at home +until sunset for three boresome days. On the morning of the fourth he +wrote a letter to the excellent old gentleman telling him that he was +tired of waiting and requesting an immediate settlement of the +business in question. Thereupon he received the following answer: + +"SIR:-- + +In the name of my family I declare to you herewith that I give you +over to the well-deserved contempt of your fellowmen. A man who can +hesitate to restore the honour of a loving and yielding girl is not +worthy of an alliance with our family. Hence we now sever any further +connection with you. + +With that measure of esteem which you deserve, + +I am, + +KOHLEMAN, _Retired Clerk of Court_. + +Knight S.H.O. + +P.S. + +Best regards. Don't mind all that talk. The duel came to nothing. Our +little lieutenant besought us not to ruin him and asked that his name +be not mentioned. He has left town." + +Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Niebeldingk threw the letter aside. + +Now that the affair was about to float into oblivion, he became +aware of the fact that it had weighed most heavily upon him. + +And he began to feel ashamed. + +He, a man who, by virtue of his name and of his wealth and, if he +would be bold, by virtue of his intellect, was able to live in some +noble and distinguished way--he passed his time with banalities that +were half sordid and half humorous. These things had their place. +Youth might find them not unfruitful of experience. They degraded a +man of forty. + +If these things filled his life to-day, then the years of training and +slow maturing had surely gone for nothing. And what would become of +him if he carried these interests into his old age? His schoolmates +were masters of the great sciences, distinguished servants of the +government, influential politicians. They toiled in the sweat of their +brows and harvested the fruits of their youth's sowing. + +He strove to master these discomforting thoughts, but every moment +found him more defenceless against them. + +And shame changed into disgust. + +To divert himself he went out into the streets and landed, finally, in +the rooms of his club. Here he was asked concerning his latest +adventure. Only a certain respect which his personality inspired saved +him from unworthy jests. And in this poverty-stricken world, where +the very lees of experience amounted to a sensation--here he +wasted his days. + +It must not last another week, not another day. So much suddenly grew +clear to him. + +He hurried away. Upon the streets brooded the heat of early summer. +Masses of human beings, hot but happy, passed him in silent activity. + +What was he to do? + +He must marry: that admitted of no doubt. In the glow of his own +hearth he must begin a new and more tonic life. + +Marry? But whom? A worn out heart can no longer be made to beat more +swiftly at the sight of some slim maiden. The senses might yet be +stirred, but that is all. + +Was he to haunt watering-places and pay court to mothers on the +man-hunt in order to find favour in their daughters' eyes? Was he to +travel from estate to estate and alienate the affection of young +_chatelaines_ from their favourite lieutenants? + +Impossible! + +He went home hopelessly enough and drowsed away the hours of the +afternoon behind drawn blinds on a hot couch. + +Toward evening the postman brought a letter--in Alice's hand. +Alice! How could he have forgotten her! His first duty should have +been to see her. + +He opened the envelope, warmly grateful for her mere existence. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +As you will probably not find time before you leave the city to bid me +farewell in person. I beg you to return to me a certain key which I +gave into your keeping some years ago. You have no need of it and it +worries me to have it lying about. + +Don't think that I am at all angry. My friendship and my gratitude are +yours, however far and long we may be separated. When, some day, we +meet again, we will both have become different beings. With many +blessings upon your way, + +ALICE." + +He struck his forehead like a man who awakens from an obscene dream. + +Where was his mind? He was about to go in search of that which was so +close at hand, so richly his own! + +Where else in all the world could he find a woman so exquisitely +tempered to his needs, so intimately responsive to his desires, one +who would lead him into the darker land of matrimony through meadows +of laughing flowers? + +To be sure, there was her coolness of temper, her learning, her +strange restlessness. But was not all that undergoing a change? Had he +not found her sunk in dreams? And her tears? And her kiss? + +Ungrateful wretch that he was! + +He had sought a home and not thought of the parrot who screamed out +his name in her dear dwelling. There was a parrot like that in the +world--and he wandered foolishly abroad. What madness! What baseness! + +He would go to her at once. + +But no! A merry thought struck him and a healing one. + +He took the key from the wall and put it into his pocket. + +He would go to her--at midnight. + + + + +Chapter IX. + + +He had definitely abandoned his club, the theatres were closed, the +restaurants were deserted, his brother's family was in the country. It +was not easy to pass the evening with that great resolve in his heart +and that small key in his pocket. + +Until ten he drifted about under the foliage of the _Tiergarten_. He +listened to the murmur of couples who thronged the dark benches, +regarded those who were quietly walking in the alleys and found +himself, presently, in that stream of humanity which is drawn +irresistibly toward the brightly illuminated pleasure resorts. + +He was moved and happy at once. For the first time in years he felt +himself to be a member of the family of man, a humbly serving brother +in the commonweal of social purpose. + +His time of proud, individualistic morality was over: the +ever-blessing institution of the family was about to gather him to its +hospitable bosom. + +To be sure, his wonted scepticism was not utterly silenced. But he +drove it away with a feeling of delighted comfort. He could have +shouted a blessing to the married couples in search of air, he could +have given a word of fatherly advice to the couples on the benches: +"Children, commit no indiscretions--marry!" + +And when he thought of her! A mild and peaceable tenderness of which +he had never thought himself capable welled up from his and heart.... +Wide gardens of Paradise seemed to open, gardens with secret grottos +and shady corners. And upon one of the palm-trees there sat +Joko--amiable beast--and said: "Rrricharrrd!" + +He went over the coming scene in his imagination again and again: Her +little cry of panic when he would enter the dark room and then his +whispered reassurance: "It is I, my darling. I have come back to stay +for ever and ever." + +And then happiness, gentle and heart-felt. + +If a divorce was necessary, the relatives of her husband would +probably succeed in divesting her of most of the property. What did it +matter to either of them? Was he not rich and was she not sure of him? +If need were, he could, with one stroke of the pen, repay her +threefold all that she might lose. But, indeed, these reflections were +quite futile. For when two people are so welded together in their +souls, their earthly possessions need no separation. From ten until +half past eleven he sat in a corner of the _Cafe Bauer_ and read the +paper of his native province which, usually, he never looked at. With +childlike delight he read into the local notices and advertisements +things pertinent to his future life. + +Bremsel, the delicatessen man in a neighbouring town advertised fresh +crabs. And Alice liked them. "Splendid," he thought "we won't have to +bring them from far." And suddenly he himself felt an appetite for the +shell-fish, so thoroughly had he lived himself into his vision of +domestic felicity. + +At twenty-five minutes of twelve he paid for his chartreuse and set +out on foot. He had time to spare and he did not want to cause the +unavoidable disturbance of a cab's stopping at her door. + +The house, according to his hope, was dark and silent. + +With beating heart he drew forth the key which consisted of two +collapsible parts. One part was for the house door, the other for a +door in her bed-room that led to a separate entrance. He had himself +chosen the apartment with this advantage in view. + +He passed the lower hall unmolested and reached the creaking stairs +which he had always hated. And as he mounted he registered an oath +to pass this way no more. He would not thus jeopardise the fair fame +of his betrothed. + +It would be bad enough if he had to rap, in case the night latch was +drawn.... + +The outer door, at least, offered no difficulty. He touched it and it +swung loose on its hinges. + +For a moment the mad idea came into his head that--in answer to her +letter--Alice might have foreseen the possibility of his coming.... He +was just about to test, by a light pressure, the knob of the inner +door when, coming from the bed-room, a muffled sound of speech +reached his ear. + +One voice was Alice's: the other--his breath stopped. It was not the +maid's. He knew it well. It was the voice of Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +It was over then--for him.... And again and again he murmured: "It's +all over." + +He leaned weakly against the wall. + +Then he listened. + +This woman who could not yield with sufficient fervour to the abandon +of passionate speech and action--this was Alice, his Alice, with her +fine sobriety, her philosophic clearness of mind. + +And that young fool whose mouth she closed with long kisses of +gratitude for his folly--did he realise the blessedness which had +fallen to the lot of his crude youth? It was over ... all over. + +And he was so worn, so passionless, so autumnal of soul, that he could +smile wearily in the midst of his pain. + +Very carefully he descended the creaking stairs, locked the door of +the house and stood on the street--still smiling. + +It was over ... all over. + +Her future was trodden into the mire, hers and his own. + +And in this supreme moment he grew cruelly aware of his crimes against +her. + +All her love, all her being during these years had been but one secret +prayer: "Hold me, do not break me, do not desert me!" + +He had been deaf. He had given her a stone for bread, irony for love, +cold doubt for warm, human trust! And in the end he had even despised +her because she had striven, with touching faith, to form herself +according to his example. + +It was all fatally clear--now. + +Her contradictions, her lack of feeling, her haughty scepticism--all +that had chilled and estranged him had been but a dutiful reflection +of his own being. + +Need he be surprised that the last remnant of her lost and corrupted +youth rose in impassioned rebellion against him and, thinking to +save itself, hurled itself to destruction? + +He gave one farewell glance to the dark, silent house--the grave of +the fairest hopes of all his life. Then he set out upon long, dreary, +aimless wandering through the endless, nocturnal streets. + +Like shadows the shapes of night glided by him. + +Shy harlots--loud roysterers--benzin flames--more harlots--and here +and there one lost in thought even as he. + +An evil odour, as of singed horses' hoofs, floated over the city..... +The dust whirled under the street-cleaning machines. + +The world grew silent. He was left almost alone..... + +Then the life of the awakening day began to stir. A sleepy dawn crept +over the roofs.... + +It was the next morning. + +There would be no "next mornings" for him. That was over. + +Let others send Indian lilies! + + + + + +THE PURPOSE + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was a blazing afternoon, late in July. The Cheruskan fraternity +entered Ellerntal in celebration of their mid-summer festivity. They +had let the great wagon stand at the outskirts of the village and now +marched up its street in well-formed procession, proud and vain as a +company of _Schuetzen_ before whom all the world bows down once a year. + +First came the regimental band of the nearest garrison, dressed in +civilian's clothes--then, under the vigilance of two brightly attired +freshmen, the blue, white and golden banner of the fraternity, next +the officers accompanied by other freshmen, and finally the active +members in whom the dignity, decency and fighting strength of the +fraternity were embodied. A gay little crowd of elderly gentlemen, +ladies and guests followed in less rigid order. Last came, as always +and everywhere, the barefoot children of the village. The procession +came to a halt in front of the _Prussian Eagle_, a long-drawn single +story structure of frame. The newly added dance hall with its three +great windows protruded loftily above the house. + +The banner was lowered, the horns of the band gave wild, sharp signals +to which no one attended, and Pastor Rhode, a sedate man of fifty +dressed in the scarf and slashed cap of the order, stepped from the +inn door to pronounce the address of welcome. At this moment it +happened that one of the two banner bearers who had stood at the right +and left of the flag with naked foils, rigid as statues, slowly tilted +over forward and buried his face in the green sward. + +This event naturally put an immediate end to the ceremony. Everybody, +men and women, thronged around the fallen youth and were quickly +pushed back by the medical fraternity men who were present in various +stages of professional development. + +The medical wisdom of this many-headed council culminated in the cry: +"A glass of water!" + +Immediately a young girl--hot-eyed and loose-haired, exquisite in the +roundedness of half maturity--rushed out of the door and handed a +glass to the gentlemen who had turned the fainting lad on his +back and were loosening scarf and collar. + +He lay there, in the traditional garb of the fraternity, like a young +cavalry man of the time of the Great Elector--with his blue, +gold-braided doublet, close-fitting breeches of white leather and +mighty boots whose flapping tops swelled out over his firm thighs. He +couldn't be above eighteen or nineteen, long and broad though he was, +with his cheeks of milk and blood, that showed no sign of down, no +duelling scar. You would have thought him some mother's pet, had there +not been a sharp line of care that ran mournfully from the half-open +lips to the chin. + +The cold water did its duty. Sighing, the lad opened his eyes--two +pretty blue boy's eyes, long lashed and yet a little empty of +expression as though life had delayed giving them the harder glow +of maturity. + +These eyes fell upon the young girl who stood there, with hands +pressed to her heaving bosom, in an ecstatic desire to help. + +"Where can we carry him?" asked one of the physicians. + +"Into my room," she cried, "I'll show you the way." + +Eight strong hands took hold and two minutes later the boy lay on the +flowered cover of her bed. It was far too short for him, but it stood, +soft and comfortable, hidden by white mull curtains in a corner of +her simple room. + +He was summoned back to full consciousness, tapped, auscultated and +examined. Finally he confessed with a good deal of hesitation that his +right foot hurt him a bit--that was all. + +"Are the boots your own, freshie?" asked one of the physicians. + +He blushed, turned his gaze to the wall and shook his head. + +Everyone smiled. + +"Well, then, off with the wretched thing." + +But all exertion of virile strength was in vain. The boot did not +budge. Only a low moan of suffering came from the patient. + +"There's nothing to be done," said one, "little miss, let's have a +bread-knife." + +Anxious and with half-folded hands she had stood behind the doctors. +Now she rushed off and brought the desired implement. + +"But you're not going to hurt him?" she asked with big, beseeching +eyes. + +"No, no, we're only going to cut his leg off," jested one of the +by-standers and took the knife from her clinging fingers. + +Two incisions, two rents along the shin--the leather parted. A steady +surgeon's hand guided the knife carefully over the instep. At last the + flesh appeared--bloody, steel-blue and badly swollen. + +"Freshie, you idiot, you might have killed yourself," said the surgeon +and gave the patient a paternal nudge. "And now, little miss, +hurry--sugar of lead bandages till evening." + + + + +Chapter II. + + +Her name was Antonie. She was the inn-keeper Wiesner's only daughter +and managed the household and kitchen because her mother had died in +the previous year. + +His name was Robert Messerschmidt. He was a physician's son and a +student of medicine. He hoped to fight his way into full fraternity +membership by the beginning of the next semester. This last detail +was, at present, the most important of his life and had been confided +to her at the very beginning of their acquaintanceship. + +Youth is in a hurry. At four o'clock their hands were intertwined. At +five o'clock their lips found each other. From six on the bandages +were changed more rarely. Instead they exchanged vows of eternal +fidelity. At eight a solemn betrothal took place. And when, at ten +o'clock, swaying slightly and mellow of mood, the physicians +reappeared in order to put the patient to bed properly, their +wedding-day had been definitely set for the fifth anniversary of that +day. Next morning the procession went on to celebrate in some other +picturesque locality the festival of the breakfast of "the +morning after." + +Toni had run up on the hill which ascended, behind her father's house, +toward the high plateau of the river-bank. With dry but burning eyes +she looked after the wagons which gradually vanished in the silvery +sand of the road and one of which carried away into the distance her +life's whole happiness. + +To be sure, she had fallen in love with everyone whom she had met. +This habit dated from her twelfth, nay, from her tenth year. But this +time it was different, oh, so different. This time it was like an +axe-blow from which one doesn't arise. Or like the fell +disease--consumption--which had dragged her mother to the grave. + +She herself was more like her father, thick-set and sturdy. + +She had also inherited his calculating and planning nature. With tough +tenacity he could sacrifice years of earning and saving and planning +to acquire farms and meadows and orchards. Thus the girl could +meditate and plan her fate which, until yesterday, had been fluid as +water but which to-day lay definitely anchored in the soul of a +stranger lad. + +Her education had been narrow. She knew the little that an old +governess and a comfortable pastor could teach. But she read +whatever she could get hold of--from the tattered "pony" to Homer +which a boy friend had loaned her, to the most horrible +penny-dreadfuls which were her father's delight in his rare hours +of leisure. + +And she assimilated what she read and adapted it to her own fate. Thus +her imagination was familiar with happiness, with delusion, +with crime.... + +She knew that she was beautiful. If the humility of her play-fellows +had not assured her of this fact, she would have been enlightened by +the long glances and jesting admiration of her father's guests. + +Her father was strict. He interfered with ferocity if a traveller +jested with her too intimately. Nevertheless he liked to have her come +into the inn proper and slip, smiling and curtsying, past the +wealthier guests. It was not unprofitable. + +Upon his short, fleshy bow-legs, with his suspiciously calculating +blink, with his avarice and his sharp tongue, he stood between her and +the world, permitting only so much of it to approach her as seemed, at +a given moment, harmless and useful. + +His attitude was fatal to any free communication with her beloved. He +opened and read every letter that she had ever received. Had she +ventured to call for one at the post-office, the information would +have reached him that very day. + +The problem was how to deceive him without placing herself at the +mercy of some friend. + +She sat down in the arbour from which, past the trees of the orchard +and the neighbouring river, one had a view of the Russian forests, and +put the problem to her seventeen-year old brain. And while the summer +wind played with the green fruit on the boughs and the white herons +spread their gleaming wings over the river, she thought out a +plan--the first of many by which she meant to rivet her beloved +for life. + +On the same afternoon she asked her father's permission to invite the +daughter of the county-physician to visit her. + +"Didn't know you were such great friends," he said, surprised. + +"Oh, but we are," she pretended to be a little hurt. "We were received +into the Church at the same time." + +With lightning-like rapidity he computed the advantages that might +result from such a visit. The county-seat was four miles distant and +if the societies of veterans and marksmen in whose committees the +doctor was influential could be persuaded to come hither for their +outings.... The girl was cordially invited and arrived a week later. +She was surprised and touched to find so faithful a friend in Toni +who, when they were both boarding with Pastor Rhode, had played her +many a sly trick. + +Two months later the girl, in her turn, invited Toni to the city +whither she had never before been permitted to go alone and so the +latter managed to receive her lover's first letter. + +What he wrote was discouraging enough. His father was ill, hence the +excellent practice was gliding into other hands and the means for his +own studies were growing narrow. If things went on so he might have to +give up his university course and take to anything to keep his mother +and sister from want. + +This prospect did not please Toni. She was so proud of him. She could +not bear to have him descend in the social scale for the sake of bread +and butter. She thought and thought how she could help him with money, +but nothing occurred to her. She had to be content with encouraging +him and assuring him that her love would find ways and means for +helping him out of his difficulties. + +She wrote her letters at night and jumped out of the window in order +to drop them secretly into the pillar box. It was months before she +could secure an answer. His father was better, but life in the +fraternity was very expensive, and it was a very grave question +whether he had not better resign the scarf which he had just gained +and study on as a mere "barb." + +In Toni's imagination the picture of her beloved was brilliantly +illuminated by the glory of the tricoloured fraternity scarf, his +desire for it had become so ardently her own, that she could not bear +the thought of him--his yearning satisfied--returning to the gray +commonplace garb of Philistia. And so she wrote him. + +Spring came and Toni matured to statelier maidenhood. The plump girl, +half-child, droll and naive, grew to be a thoughtful, silent young +woman, secretive and very sure of her aims. She condescended to the +guests and took no notice of the desperate admiration which surrounded +her. Her glowing eyes looked into emptiness, her infinitely tempting +mouth smiled carelessly at friends and strangers. + +In May Robert's father died. + +She read it in one of the papers that were taken at the inn, and +immediately it became clear to her that her whole future was at stake. +For if he was crushed now by the load of family cares, if hope were +taken from him, no thought of her or her love would be left. Only if +she could redeem her promises and help him practically could she hope +to keep him. In the farthest corner of a rarely opened drawer lay +her mother's jewels which were some day to be hers--brooches and +rings, a golden chain, and a comb set with rubies which had found its +way--heaven knows how--into the simple inn. + +Without taking thought she stole the whole and sent it as +merchandise--not daring to risk the evidence of registration--to help +him in his studies. The few hundred marks that the jewellery would +bring would surely keep him until the end of the semester ... but +what then? ... + +And again she thought and planned all through the long, hot nights. + +Pastor Rhode's eldest son, a frail, tall junior who followed her, full +of timid passion, came home from college for the spring vacation. In +the dusk he crept around the inn as had been his wont for years. + +This time he had not long to wait. + +How did things go at college? Badly. Would he enter the senior class +at Michaelmas? Hardly. Then she would have to be ashamed of him, and +that would be a pity: she liked him too well. + +The slim lad writhed under this exquisite torture. It wasn't his +fault. He had pains in his chest, and growing pains. And all that. + +She unfolded her plan. + +"You ought to have a tutor during the long vacation, Emil, to help you +work." + +"Papa can do that." + +"Oh, Papa is busy. You ought to have a tutor all to yourself, a +student or something like that. If you're really fond of me ask your +Papa to engage one. Perhaps he'll get a young man from his own +fraternity with whom he can chat in the evening. You will ask, won't +you? I don't like people who are conditioned in their studies." + +That same night a letter was sent to her beloved. + +"Watch the frat. bulletin! Our pastor is going to look for a tutor for +his boy. See to it that you get the position. I'm longing to see +you." + + + + +Chapter III + + +Once more it was late July--exactly a year after those memorable +events--and he sat in the stage-coach and took off his crape-hung cap +to her. His face was torn by fresh scars and diagonally across his +breast the blue white golden scarf was to be seen. + +She grasped the posts of the fence with both hands and felt that she +would die if she could not have him. + +Upon that evening she left the house no more, although for two hours +he walked the dusty village street, with Emil, but also alone. But on +the next evening she stood behind the fence. Their hands found each +other across the obstacle. + +"Do you sleep on the ground-floor?" she asked whispering. + +"Yes." + +"Does the dog still bark when he sees you." + +"I don't know, I'm afraid so." + +"When you've made friends with him so that he won't bark when you get +out of the window, then come to the arbour behind our orchard. I'll +wait for you every night at twelve. But don't mind that. Don't come +till you're sure of the dog." + +For three long nights she sat on the wooden bench of the arbour until +the coming of dawn and stared into the bluish dusk that hid the +village as in a cloak. From time to time the dogs bayed. She could +distinguish the bay of the pastor's collie. She knew his hoarse voice. +Perhaps he was barring her beloved's way.... + +At last, during the fourth night, when his coming was scarcely to be +hoped for, uncertain steps dragged up the hill. + +She did not run to meet him. She crouched in the darkest corner of the +arbour and tasted, intensely blissful, the moments during which he +felt his way through the foliage. + +Then she clung to his neck, to his lips, demanding and according +all--rapt to the very peaks of life.... + +They were together nightly. Few words passed between them. She +scarcely knew how he looked. For not even a beam of the moon could +penetrate the broad-leaved foliage, and at the peep of dawn they +separated. She might have lain in the arms of a stranger and not known +the difference. + +And not only during their nightly meetings, but even by day they slipt +through life-like shadows. One day the pastor came to the inn for a +glass of beer and chatted with other gentlemen. She heard him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with that young fellow," he said. "He +does his duty and my boy is making progress. But he's like a stranger +from another world. He sits at the table and scarcely sees us. He +talks and you have the feeling that he doesn't know what he's talking +about. Either he's anaemic or he writes poetry." + +She herself saw the world through a blue veil, heard the voices of +life across an immeasurable distance and felt hot, alien shivers run +through her enervated limbs. + +The early Autumn approached and with it the day of his departure. At +last she thought of discussing the future with him which, until then, +like all else on earth, had sunk out of sight. + +His mother, he told her, meant to move to Koenigsberg and earn her +living by keeping boarders. Thus there was at least a possibility of +his continuing his studies. But he didn't believe that he would be +able to finish. His present means would soon be exhausted and he had +no idea where others would come from. + +All that he told her in the annoyed and almost tortured tones of one +long weary of hope who only staggers on in fear of more vital +degradation. + +With flaming words she urged him to be of good courage. She insisted +upon such resources as--however frugal--were, after all, at hand, and +calculated every penny. She shrugged her shoulders at his gratitude +for that first act of helpfulness. If only there were something else +to be taken. But whence and how? Her suspicious father would have +observed any shortage in his till at once and would have had the thief +discovered. + +The great thing was to gain time. Upon her advice he was to leave +Koenigsberg with its expensive fraternity life and pass the winter in +Berlin. The rest had to be left to luck and cunning. + +In a chill, foggy September night they said farewell. Shivering they +held each other close. Their hearts were full of the confused hopes +which they themselves had kindled, not because there was any ground +for hope, but because without it one cannot live. + +And a few weeks later everything came to an end. + +For Toni knew of a surety that she would be a mother.... + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Into the river! + +For that her father would put her in the street was clear. It was +equally clear what would become of her in that case.... + +But no, not into the river! Why was her young head so practised in +skill and cunning, if it was to bow helplessly under the first severe +onslaught of fate? What was the purpose of those beautiful long nights +but to brood upon plans and send far thoughts out toward shining aims? + +No, she would not run into the river. That dear wedding-day in five, +nay, in four years, was lost anyhow. But the long time could be +utilised so cleverly that her beloved could be dragged across the +abyss of his fate. + +First, then, she must have a father for her child. He must not be +clever. He must not be strong of will. Nor young, for youth makes +demands. ... Nor well off, for he who is certain of himself desires +freedom of choice. + +Her choice fell upon a former inn-keeper, a down-hearted man of about +fifty, moist of eye, faded, with greasy black hair.... He had failed +in business some years before and now sat around in the inn, looking +for a job.... + +To this her father did not object. For that man's condition was an +excellent foil to his own success and prosperity and thus he was +permitted, at times, to stay a week in the house where, otherwise, +charity was scarcely at home. + +Her plan worked well. On the first day she lured him silently on. On +the second he responded. On the third she turned sharply and rebuked +him. On the fourth she forgave him. On the fifth she met him in +secret. On the sixth he went on a journey, conscience smitten for +having seduced her.... + +That very night--for there was no time to be lost--she confessed with +trembling and blushing to her father that she was overcome by an +unconquerable passion for Herr Weigand. As was to be expected she was +driven from the door with shame and fury. + +During the following weeks she went about bathed in tears. Her father +avoided her. Then, when the right moment seemed to have come, she made +a second and far more difficult confession. This time her tremours and +her blushes were real, her tears were genuine for her father used a +horse-whip.... But when, that night, Toni sat on the edge of her bed +and bathed the bloody welts on her body, she knew that her plan +would succeed. + +And, to be sure, two days later Herr Weigand returned--a little more +faded, a little more hesitant, but altogether, by no means unhappy. He +was invited into her father's office for a long discussion. The result +was that the two lovers fell into each others' arms while her father, +trembling with impotent rage, hurled at them the fragments of a +crushed cigar. + +The banns were proclaimed immediately after the betrothal, and a +month later Herr Weigand, in his capacity of son-in-law, could take +possession of the same garret which he had inhabited as an impecunious +guest. This arrangement, however, was not a permanent one. An inn was +to be rented for the young couple--with her father's money. + +Toni, full of zeal and energy, took part in every new undertaking, +travelled hither and thither, considered prospects and dangers, but +always withdrew again at the last moment in order to await a fairer +opportunity. + +But she was utterly set upon the immediate furnishing of the new home. +She went to Koenigsberg and had long sessions with furniture dealers +and tradesmen of all kinds. On account of her delicate condition she +insisted that she could only travel on the upholstered seats of the +second class. She charged her father accordingly and in reality +travelled fourth class and sat for hours between market-women and +Polish Jews in order to save a few marks. In the accounts she rendered +heavy meals were itemized, strengthening wines, stimulating cordials. +As a matter of fact, she lived on dried slices of bread which, before +leaving home, she hid in her trunk. + +She did not disdain the saving of a tram car fare, although the +rebates which she got on the furniture ran into the hundreds. + +All that she sent jubilantly to her lover in Berlin, assured that he +was provided for some months. + +Thus the great misfortune had finally resulted in a blessing. For, +without these unhoped for resources, he must have long fallen by +the way-side. + +Months passed. Her furnishings stood in a storage warehouse, but the +house in which they were to live was not yet found. + +When she felt that her hour had come--her father and husband thought +it far off--she redoubled the energy of her travels, seeking, +preferably, rough and ribbed roads which other women in her condition +were wont to shun. + +And thus, one day, in a springless vehicle, two miles distant from the +county-seat, the pains of labour came upon her. She steeled every +nerve and had herself carried to the house of the county-physician +whose daughter was now tenderly attached to her. + +There she gave birth to a girl child which announced its equivocal +arrival in this world lustily. + +The old doctor, into whose house this confusion had suddenly come, +stood by her bed-side, smiling good-naturedly. She grasped him with +both hands, terror in her eyes and in her voice. + +"Dear, dear doctor! The baby was born too soon, wasn't it?" + +The doctor drew back and regarded her long and earnestly. Then his +smile returned and his kind hand touched her hair. + +"Yes, it is as you say. The baby's nails are not fully developed and +its weight is slightly below normal. It's all on account of your +careless rushing about. Surely the child came too soon." + +And he gave her the proper certification of the fact which protected +her from those few people who might consider themselves partakers of +her secret. For the opinion of people in general she cared little. So +strong had she grown through guilt and silence. + +And she was a child of nineteen! ... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When Toni had arisen from her bed of pain she found the place which +she and her husband had been seeking for months with surprising +rapidity. The "Hotel Germania," the most reputable hotel in the +county-seat itself was for rent. Its owner had recently died. It was +palatial compared to her father's inn. There were fifteen rooms for +guests, a tap-room, a wine-room, a grocery-shop and a livery-stable. + +Weigand, intimidated by misfortune, had never even hoped to aspire to +such heights of splendour. Even now he could only grasp the measure of +his happiness by calculating enormous profits. And he did this with +peculiar delight. For, since the business was to be run in the name of +Toni's father, his own creditors could not touch him. + +When they had moved in and the business began to be straightened out, +Weigand proved himself in flat contradiction of his slack and careless +character, a tough and circumspect man of business. He knew the +whereabouts of every penny and was not inclined to permit his wife to +make random inroads upon his takings. + +Toni, who had expected to be undisputed mistress of the safe saw +herself cheated of her dearest hopes, for the time approached when the +savings made on the purchase of her furniture must necessarily be +exhausted. + +And again she planned and wrestled through the long, warm nights while +her husband, whose inevitable proximity she bore calmly, snored with +the heaviness of many professional "treats." + +One day she said to him: "A few pennies must be put by for Amanda." +That was the name of the little girl who flourished merrily in her +cradle. "You must assign some little profits to me." + +"What can I do?" he asked. "For the present everything belongs to the +old man." + +"I know what I'd like," she went on, smiling dreamily, "I'd like to +have all the profits on the sale of champagne." + +He laughed heartily. There wasn't much call for champagne in the +little county-seat. At most a few bottles were sold on the emperor's +birthday or when, once in a long while, a flush commercial traveller +wanted to regale a recalcitrant customer. + +And so Weigand fell in with what he thought a mere mood and assented. + +Toni at once made a trip to Koenigsberg and bought all kinds of +phantastic decorations--Chinese lanterns, gilt fans, artificial +flowers, gay vases and manicoloured lamp-shades. With all these things +she adorned the little room that lay behind the room in which the most +distinguished townspeople were wont to drink their beer. And so the +place with veiled light and crimson glow looked more like a mysterious +oriental shrine than the sitting-room of an honest Prussian +inn-keeper's wife. + +She sat evening after evening in this phantastic room. She brought her +knitting and awaited the things that were to come. + +The gentlemen who drank in the adjoining room, the judges, physicians, +planters--all the bigwigs of a small town, in short--soon noticed the +magical light that glimmered through the half-open door whenever +Weigand was obliged to pass from the public rooms into his private +dwelling. And the men grew to be curious, the more so as the +inn-keeper's young wife, of whose charms many rumours were afloat, had +never yet been seen by any. + +One evening, when the company was in an especially hilarious mood, the +men demanded stormily to see the mysterious room. + +Weigand hesitated. He would have to ask his wife's permission. He +returned with the friendly message that the gentlemen were welcome. +Hesitant, almost timid, they entered as if crossing the threshold of +some house of mystery. + +There stood--transfigured by the glow of coloured lamps--the shapely +young woman with the alluring glow in her eyes, and her lips that were +in the form of a heart. She gave each a secretly quivering hand and +spoke a few soft words that seemed to distinguish him from the others. +Then, still timid and modest, she asked them to be seated and begged +for permission to serve a glass of champagne in honour of +the occasion. + +It is not recorded who ordered the second bottle. It may have been the +very fat Herr von Loffka, or the permanently hilarious judge. At all +events the short visit of the gentlemen came to an end at three +o'clock in the morning with wild intoxication and a sale of eighteen +bottles of champagne, of which half bore French labels. + +Toni resisted all requests for a second invitation to her sanctum. She +first insisted on the solemn assurance that the gentlemen would +respect her presence and bring neither herself nor her house into +ill-repute. At last came the imperial county-counsellor himself--a +wealthy bachelor of fifty with the manners of an injured lady killer. +He came to beg for himself and the others and she dared not refuse +any longer. + +The champagne festivals continued. With this difference: that Toni, +whenever the atmosphere reached a certain point of heated +intoxication, modestly withdrew to her bed-room. Thus she succeeded not +only in holding herself spotless but in being praised for her +retiring nature. + +But she kindled a fire in the heads of these dissatisfied University +men who deemed themselves banished into a land of starvation, and in +the senses of the planters' sons. And this fire burned on and created +about her an atmosphere of madly fevered desire.... + +Finally it became the highest mark of distinction in the little town, +the sign of real connoisseurship in life, to have drunk a bottle of +champagne with "Germania," as they called her, although she bore +greater resemblance to some swarthier lady of Rome. Whoever was not +admitted to her circle cursed his lowliness and his futile life. + +Of course, in spite of all precautions, it could not but be that her +reputation suffered. The daughter of the county-physician began to +avoid her, the wives of social equals followed suit. But no one dared +accuse her of improper relations with any of her adorers. It was even +known that the county-counsellor, desperate over her stern refusals, +was urging her to get a divorce from her husband and marry him. No one +suspected, of course, that she had herself spread this rumour in order +to render pointless the possible leaking out of improprieties.... + +Nor did any one dream that a bank in Koenigsberg transmitted, in her +name, monthly cheques to Berlin that sufficed amply to help an +ambitious medical student to continue his work. + +The news which she received from her beloved was scanty. + +In order to remain in communication with him she had thought out a +subtle method. + +The house of every tradesman or business man in the provinces is +flooded with printed advertisements from Berlin which pour out over +the small towns and the open country. Of this printed matter, which is +usually thrown aside unnoticed, Toni gathered the most voluminous +examples, carefully preserved the envelopes, and sent them to Robert. +Her husband did not notice of course that the same advertising matter +came a second time nor that faint, scarce legible pencil marks picked +out words here and there which, when read consecutively, made complete +sense and differed very radically from the message which the printed +slips were meant to convey.... + +Years passed. A few ship-wrecked lives marked Toni's path, a few +female slanders against her were avenged by the courts. Otherwise +nothing of import took place. + +And in her heart burned with never-lessening glow the one great +emotion which always supplied fuel to her will, which lent every +action a pregnant significance and furnished absolution for +every crime. + +In the meantime Amanda grew to be a blue-eyed, charming child--gentle +and caressing and the image of the man of whose love she was the +impassioned gift. + +But Fate, which seems to play its gigantic pranks upon men in the act +of punishing them, brought it to pass that the child seemed also to +bear some slight resemblance to the stranger who, bowed and servile, +stupidly industrious, sucking cigars, was to be seen at her +mother's side. + +Never was father more utterly devoted to the fruit of his loins than +this gulled fellow to the strange child to whom the mother did not +even--by kindly inactivity--give him a borrowed right. The more +carefully she sought to separate the child from him, the more +adoringly and tenaciously did he cling to it. + +With terror and rage Toni was obliged to admit to herself that no sum +would ever suffice to make Weigand agree to a divorce that separated +him definitely from the child. And dreams and visions, transplanted +into her brain from evil books, filled Toni's nights with the glitter +of daggers and the stain of flowing blood. And fate seemed to urge on +the day when these dreams must take on flesh.... + +One day she found in the waste-paper basket which she searched +carefully after every mail-delivery, an advertisement which commended +to the buying public a new make of type-writer. + +"Many public institutions," thus the advertisement ran, "use our well +tried machines in their offices, because these machines will bear the +most rigid examination. Their reputation has crossed the ocean. The +Chilean ministry has just ordered a dozen of our 'Excelsiors' by +cable. Thus successfully does our invention spread over the world. And +yet its victorious progress is by no means completed. Even in Japan--" +and so on. + +If one looked at this stuff very carefully, one could observe that +certain words were lightly marked in pencil. And if one read these +words consecutively, the following sentence resulted: + +"Public--examination--just--successfully--completed." + +From this day on the room with the veiled lamps remained closed to her +eager friends. From this day on the generous county-counsellor saw +that his hopes were dead.... + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +How was the man to be disposed of? + +An open demand for divorce would have been stupid, for it would have +thrown a very vivid suspicion upon any later and more drastic attempt. + +Weigand's walk and conversation were blameless. Her one hope consisted +in catching him in some chance infidelity. The desire for change, she +reasoned, the allurement of forbidden fruit, must inflame even this +wooden creature. + +She had never, hitherto, paid the slightest attention to the problem +of waitresses. Now she travelled to Koenigsberg and hired the +handsomest women to be found in the employment bureaus. They came, one +after another, a feline Polish girl, a smiling, radiantly blond child +of Sweden--a Venus, a Germania--this time a genuine one. Next came a +pretended Circassian princess. And they all wandered off again, and +Weigand had no glance for them but that of the master. + +Antonie was discouraged and dropped her plan. + +What now? + +She had recoiled from no baseness. She had sacrificed to her love +honour, self-respect, truth, righteousness and pride. But she had +avoided hitherto the possibility of a conflict with the law. +Occasional small thefts in the house did not count. + +But the day had come when crime itself, crime that threatened remorse +and the sword of judgment, entered her life. For otherwise she could +not get rid of her husband. + +The regions that lie about the eastern boundary of the empire are +haunted by Jewish peddlers who carry in their sacks Russian drops, +candied fruits, gay ribands, toys made of bark, and other pleasant +things which make them welcome to young people. But they also supply +sterner needs. In the bottom of their sacks are hidden love philtres +and strange electuaries. And if you press them very determinedly, you +will find some among them who have the little white powders that can +be poured into beer ... or the small, round discs which the common +folk call "crow's eyes" and which the greedy apothecaries will not +sell you merely for the reason that they prepare the costlier +strychnine from them. + +You will often see these beneficent men in the twilight in secret +colloquy with female figures by garden-gates and the edges of woods. +The female figures slip away if you happen to appear on the road.... +Often, too, these men are asked into the house and intimate council is +held with them--especially when husband and servants are busy in the +fields.... + +One evening in the beginning of May, Toni brought home with her from a +harmless walk a little box of arsenic and a couple of small, hard +discs that rattled merrily in one's pocket.... Cold sweat ran down her +throat and her legs trembled so that she had to sit down on a case of +soap before entering the house. + +Her husband asked her what was wrong. + +"Ah, it's the spring," she answered and laughed. + +Soon her adorers noticed, and not these only, that her loveliness +increased from day to day. Her eyes which, under their depressed +brows, had assumed a sharp and peering gaze, once more glowed with +their primal fire, and a warm rosiness suffused her cheeks that spread +marvelously to her forehead and throat. + +Her appearance made so striking an impression that many a one who had +not seen her for a space stared at her and asked, full of admiration: +"What have you done to yourself?" + +"It is the spring," she answered and laughed. + +As a matter of fact she had taken to eating arsenic. + +She had been told that any one who becomes accustomed to the use of +this poison can increase the doses to such an extent that he can take +without harm a quantity that will necessarily kill another. And she +had made up her mind to partake of the soup which she meant, some day, +to prepare for her husband. That much she held to be due a faultless +claim of innocence. + +But she was unfortunate enough to make a grievous mistake one day, and +lay writhing on the floor in uncontrollable agony. + +The old physician at once recognized the symptoms of arsenic +poisoning, prescribed the necessary antidotes and carefully dragged +her back into life. The quantity she had taken, he declared, shaking +his head, was enough to slay a strong man. He transmitted the +information of the incident as demanded by law. + +Detectives and court-messengers visited the house. The entire building +was searched, documents had to be signed and all reports were +carefully followed up. + +The dear romantic public refused to be robbed of its opinion that one +of Toni's rejected admirers had thus sought to avenge himself. The +suspicion of the authorities, however, fastened itself upon a +waitress, a plump, red-haired wanton who had taken the place of the +imported beauties and whose insolent ugliness the men of the town, +relieved of nobler delights, enjoyed thoroughly. The insight of the +investigating judge had found in the girl's serving in the house and +her apparent intimacy with its master a scent which he would by no +means abandon. Only, because a few confirmatory details were still to +seek, the suspicion was hidden not only from the public but even from +its object. + +Antonie, however, ailed continually. She grew thin, her digestion was +delicate. If the blow was to be struck--and many circumstances urged +it--she would no longer be able to share the poison with her victim. +But it seemed fairly certain that suspicion would very definitely fall +not upon her but upon the other woman. The latter would have to be +sacrificed, so much was clear. + +But that was the difficulty. The wounded conscience might recover, the +crime might be conquered into forgetfulness, if only that is slain +which burdens the earth, which should never have been. But Toni felt +that her soul could not drag itself to any bourne of peace if, for her +own advantage, she cast one who was innocent to lasting and +irremediable destruction. + +The simplest thing would have been to dismiss the woman. In that case, +however, it was possible that the courts would direct their +investigations to her admirers. One of them had spoken hasty and +careless words. He might not be able to clear himself, were the +accusation directed against him. + +There remained but one hope: to ascribe the unavertible death of her +husband to some accident, some heedlessness. And so she directed her +unwavering purpose to this end. + +The Polish peddler had slipped into Toni's hand not only the arsenic +but also the deadly little discs called "crow's eyes." These must help +her, if used with proper care and circumspection. + +One day while little Amanda was playing in the yard with other girls, +she found among the empty kerosene barrels a few delightful, silvery +discs, no larger then a ten pfennig piece. With great delight she +brought them to her mother who, attending to her knitting, had ceased +for a moment to watch the children. + +"What's that, Mama?" + +"I don't know, my darling." + +"May we play with them?" + +"What would you like to play?" + +"We want to throw them." + +"No, don't do that. But I'll make you a new doll-carriage and these +will be lovely wheels." + +The children assented and Amanda brought a pair of scissors in order +to make holes in the little wheels. But they were too hard and the +points of the blades slipped. + +"Ask father to use his small gimlet." + +Amanda ran to the open window behind which he for whom all this was +prepared was quietly making out his monthly bills. + +Toni's breath failed. If he recognised the poisonous fruits, it was +all over with her plan. But the risk was not to be avoided. + +He looked at the discs for a moment. And yet for another. No, he did +not know their nature but was rather pleased with them. It did not +even occur to him to warn the little girl to beware of the +unknown fruit. + +He called into the shop ordering an apprentice to bring him a +tool-case. The boy in his blue apron came and Toni observed that his +eyes rested upon the fruits for a perceptible interval. Thus there +was, in addition to the children, another witness and one who would be +admitted to oath. + +Weigand bored holes into four of the discs and threw them, jesting +kindly, into the children's apron. The others he kept. "He has +pronounced his own condemnation," Toni thought as with trembling +fingers she mended an old toy to fit the new wheels. + +Nothing remained but to grind the proper dose with cinnamon, to +sweeten it--according to instructions--and spice a rice-pudding +therewith. + +But fate which, in this delicate matter, had been hostile to her from +the beginning, ordained it otherwise. + +For that very evening came the apothecary, not, as a rule, a timid +person. He was pale and showed Weigand the fruits. He had, by the +merest hair-breadth, prevented his little girl Marie from nibbling +one of them. + +The rest followed as a matter of course. The new wheels were taken +from the doll-carriage, all fragments were carefully sought out and +all the discs were given to the apothecary who locked them into +his safe. + +"The red-headed girl must be sacrificed after all," Toni thought. + +She planned and schemed, but she could think of no way by which the +waitress could be saved from that destruction which hung over her. + +There was no room for further hesitation. The path had to be trodden +to its goal. Whether she left corpses on the way-side, whether she +herself broke down dead at the goal--it did not matter. That plan of +her life which rivetted her fate to her beloved's forever demanded +that she proceed. + +The old physician came hurrying to the inn next morning. He was +utterly confounded by the scarcely escaped horrors. + +"You really look," he said to Toni, "as if you had swallowed some of +the stuff, too." + +"Oh, I suppose my fate will overtake me in the end," she answered with +a weary smile. "I feel it in my bones: there will be some misfortune +in our house." + +"For heaven's sake!" he cried, "Put that red-headed beast into the +street." + +"It isn't she! I'll take my oath on that," she said eagerly and +thought that she had done a wonderfully clever thing. + +She waited in suspense, fearing that the authorities would take a +closer look at this last incident. She was equipped for any +search--even one that might penetrate to her own bed-room. For she had +put false bottoms into the little medicine-boxes. Beneath these she +kept the arsenic. On top lay harmless magnesia. The boxes themselves +stood on her toilet-table, exposed to all eyes and hence withdrawn +from all suspicion. + +She waited till evening, but nobody came. And yet the connection +between this incident and the former one seemed easy enough to +establish. However that might be, she assigned the final deed to the +very next day. And why wait? An end had to be made of this torture of +hesitation which, at every new scruple, seemed to freeze her very +heart's blood. Furthermore the finding of the "crow's eyes" would be +of use in leading justice astray. + +To-morrow, then ... to-morrow.... + +Weigand had gone to bed early. But Toni sat behind the door of the +public room and, through a slit of the door, listened to every +movement of the waitress. She had kept near her all evening. She +scarcely knew why. But a strange, dull hope would not die in her--a +hope that something might happen whereby her unsuspecting victim and +herself might both be saved. + +The clock struck one. The public rooms were all but empty. Only a few +young clerks remained. These were half-drunk and made rough advances +to the waitress. + +She resisted half-serious, half-jesting. + +"You go out and cool yourselves in the night-air. I don't care about +such fellows as you." + +"I suppose you want only counts and barons," one of them taunted her. +"I suppose you wouldn't even think the county-counsellor good enough!" + +"That's my affair," she answered, "as to who is good enough for me. I +have my choice. I can get any man I want." + +They laughed at her and she flew into a rage. + +"If you weren't such a beggarly crew and had anything to bet, I'd +wager you any money that I'd seduce any man I want in a week. In a +week, do I say? In three days! Just name the man." + +Antonie quivered sharply and then sank with closed eyes, against the +back of her chair. A dream of infinite bliss stole through her being. +Was there salvation for her in this world? Could this coarse creature +accomplish that in which beauty and refinement had failed? + +Could she be saved from becoming a murderess? Would it be granted her +to remain human, with a human soul and a human face? + +But this was no time for tears or weakening. + +With iron energy she summoned all her strength and quietude and +wisdom. The moment was a decisive one. + +When the last guests had gone and all servants, too, had gone to their +rest, she called the waitress, with some jesting reproach, into +her room. + +A long whispered conversation followed. At its end the woman declared +that the matter was child's play to her. + +And did not suspect that by this game she was saving her life. + + + + +Chapter VII. + + +In hesitant incredulity Antonie awaited the things that were to come. + +On the first day a staggering thing happened. The red-headed woman, +scolding at the top of her voice, threw down a beer-glass at her +master's feet, upon which he immediately gave her notice. + +Toni's newly-awakened hope sank. The woman had boasted. And what was +worse than all: if the final deed could be accomplished, her compact +with the waitress would damn her. The woman would of course use this +weapon ruthlessly. The affair had never stood so badly. + +But that evening she breathed again. For Weigand declared that the +waitress seemed to have her good qualities too and her heart-felt +prayers had persuaded him to keep her. + +For several days nothing of significance took place except that +Weigand, whenever he mentioned the waitress, peered curiously aside. +And this fact Toni interpreted in a favorable light. + +Almost a week passed. Then, one day, the waitress approached Toni at +an unwonted hour. + +"If you'll just peep into my room this afternoon...." + +Toni followed directions.... The poor substitute crept down the +stairs--caught and powerless. He followed his wife who knelt sobbing +beside their bed. She was not to be comforted, nor to be moved. She +repulsed him and wept and wept. + +Weigand had never dreamed that he was so passionately loved. The more +violent was the anger of the deceived wife.... She demanded divorce, +instant divorce.... + +He begged and besought and adjured. In vain. + +Next he enlisted the sympathy of his father-in-law who had taken no +great interest in the business during these years, but was content if +the money he had invested in it paid the necessary six per +cent. promptly. + +The old man came immediately and made a scene with his recalcitrant +daughter.... There was the splendid business and the heavy investment! +She was not to think that he would give her one extra penny. He would +simply withdraw his capital and let her and the child starve. + +Toni did not even deign to reply. + +The suit progressed rapidly. The unequivocal testimony of the waitress +rendered any protest nugatory. + +Three months later Toni put her possessions on a train, took her +child, whom the deserted father followed with an inarticulate moan, +and travelled to Koenigsberg where she rented a small flat in order to +await in quiet the reunion with her beloved. + +The latter was trying to work up a practice in a village close to the +Russian border. He wrote that things were going slowly and that, +hence, he must be at his post night and day. So soon as he had the +slightest financial certainty for his wife and child, he would +come for them. + +And so she awaited the coming of her life's happiness. She had little +to do, and passed many happy hours in imagining how he would rush +in--by yonder passage--through this very door--tall and slender and +impassioned and press her to his wildly throbbing heart. And ever +again, though she knew it to be a foolish dream, did she see the blue +white golden scarf upon his chest and the blue and gold cap upon his +blond curls. + +Lonely widows--even those of the divorced variety--find friends and +ready sympathy in the land of good hearts. But Antonie avoided +everyone who sought her society. Under the ban of her great secret +purpose she had ceased to regard men and women except as they could be +turned into the instruments of her will. And her use for them was +over. As for their merely human character and experience--Toni saw +through these at once. And it all seemed to her futile and trivial in +the fierce reflection of those infernal fires through which she had +had to pass. + +Adorned like a bride and waiting--thus she lived quietly and modestly +on the means which her divorced husband--in order to keep his own head +above water--managed to squeeze out of the business. + +Suddenly her father died. People said that his death was due to +unconquerable rage over her folly.... + +She buried him, bearing herself all the while with blameless filial +piety and then awoke to the fact that she was rich. + +She wrote to her beloved: "Don't worry another day. We are in a +position to choose the kind of life that pleases us." + +He wired back: "Expect me to-morrow." + +Full of delight and anxiety she ran to the mirror and discovered for +the thousandth time, that she was beautiful again. The results of +poisoning had disappeared, crime and degradation had burned no marks +into her face. She stood there--a ruler of life. Her whole being +seemed sure of itself, kindly, open. Only the wild glance might, at +times, betray the fact that there was much to conceal. + +She kept wakeful throughout the night, as she had done through many +another. Plan after plan passed through her busy brain. It was with an +effort that she realised the passing of such grim necessities. + + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +A bunch of crysanthemums stood on the table, asters in vases on +dresser and chiffonier--colourful and scentless. + +Antonie wore a dress of black lace that had been made by the best +dressmaker in the city for this occasion. In festive array she +desired to meet her beloved and yet not utterly discard the garb of +filial grief. But she had dressed the child in white, with white silk +stockings and sky-blue ribands. It was to meet its father like the +incarnate spirit of approaching happiness. + +From the kitchen came the odours of the choicest autumn dishes--roast +duck with apples and a grape-cake, such as she alone knew how to +prepare. Two bottles of precious Rhine wine stood in the cool without +the window. She did not want to welcome him with champagne. The +memories of its subtle prickling, and of much else connected +therewith, nauseated her. + +If he left his village at six in the morning he must arrive at noon. + +And she waited even as she had waited seven years. This morning seven +hours had been left, there were scarcely seven minutes now. And +then--the door-bell rang. + +"That is the new uncle," she said to Amanda who was handling her +finery, flattered and astonished, and she wondered to note her brain +grow suddenly so cool and clear. + +A gentleman entered. A strange gentleman. Wholly strange. Had she met +him on the street she would not have known him. + +He had grown old--forty, fifty, an hundred years. Yet his real age +could not be over twenty-eight! ... + +He had grown fat. He carried a little paunch about with him, round and +comfortable. And the honourable scars gleamed in round red cheeks. His +eyes seemed small and receding.... + +And when he said: "Here I am at last," it was no longer the old voice, +clear and a little resonant, which had echoed and re-echoed in her +spiritual ear. He gurgled as though he had swallowed dumplings. + +But when he took her hand and smiled, something slipt into his +face--something affectionate and quiet, empty and without guile or +suspicion. + +Where was she accustomed to this smile? To be sure; in Amanda. An +indubitable inheritance. + +And for the sake of this empty smile an affectionate feeling for this +stranger came into her heart. She helped him take off his overcoat. He +wore a pair of great, red-lined rubber goloshes, typical of the +country doctor. He took these off carefully and placed them with their +toes toward the wall. + +"He has grown too pedantic," she thought. + +Then all three entered the room. When Toni saw him in the light of day +she missed the blue white golden scarf at once. But it would have +looked comical over his rounded paunch. And yet its absence +disillusioned her. It seemed to her as if her friend had doffed the +halo for whose sake she had served him and looked up to him so long. + +As for him, he regarded her with unconcealed admiration. + +"Well, well, one can be proud of you!" he said, sighing deeply, and it +almost seemed as if with this sigh a long and heavy burden lifted +itself from his soul. + +"He was afraid he might have to be ashamed of me," she thought +rebelliously. As if to protect herself she pushed the little girl +between them. + +"Here is Amanda," she said, and added with a bitter smile: "Perhaps +you remember." + +But he didn't even suspect the nature of that which she wanted to make +him feel. + +"Oh, I've brought something for you, little one!" he cried with the +delight of one who recalls an important matter in time. With measured +step he trotted back into the hall and brought out a flat paste-board +box tied with pink ribands. He opened it very carefully and revealed a +layer of chocolate-creams wrapped in tin-foil and offered one +to Amanda. + +And this action seemed to him, obviously, to satisfy all requirements +in regard to his preliminary relations to the child. + +Antonie felt the approach of a head-ache such as she had now and then +ever since the arsenic poisoning. + +"You are probably hungry, dear Robert," she said. + +He wouldn't deny that. "If one is on one's legs from four o'clock in +the morning on, you know, and has nothing in one's stomach but a +couple of little sausages, you know!" + +He said all that with the same cheerfulness that seemed to come to him +as a matter of course and yet did not succeed in wholly hiding an +inner diffidence. + +They sat down at the table and Antonie, taking pleasure in seeing to +his comfort, forgot for a moment the foolish ache that tugged at her +body and at her soul. + +The wine made him talkative. He related everything that interested +him--his professional trips across country, the confinements that +sometimes came so close together that he had to spend twenty-four +hours in his buggy. Then he told of the tricks by which people whose +lives he had just saved sought to cheat him out of his modest fees. +And he told also of the comfortable card-parties with the judge and +the village priest. And how funny it was when the inn-keeper's tame +starling promenaded on the cards.... + +Every word told of cheerful well-being and unambitious contentment. + +"He doesn't think of our common future," a torturing suspicion +whispered to her. + +But he did. + +"I should like to have you try, first of all, Toni, to live there. It +isn't easy. But we can both stand a good deal, thank God, and if we +don't like it in the end, why, we can move away." + +And he said that so simply and sincerely that her suspicion vanished. + +And with this returning certitude there returned, too, the ambition +which she had always nurtured for him. + +"How would it be if we moved to Berlin, or somewhere where there is a +university?" + +"And maybe aim at a professorship?" he cried with cheerful irony. "No, +Tonichen, all your money can't persuade me to that. I crammed enough +in that damned medical school, I've got my income and that's good +enough for me." + +A feeling of disgust came over her. She seemed to perceive the stuffy +odour of unventilated rooms and of decaying water in which flowers +had stood. + +"That is what I suffered for," involuntarily the thought came, +"_that!_" + +After dinner when Amanda was sleeping off the effects of the little +sip of wine which she had taken when they let her clink glasses with +them, they sat opposite each other beside the geraniums of the +window-box and fell silent. He blew clouds of smoke from his cigar +into the air and seemed not disinclined to indulge in a nap, too. + +Leaning back in her wicker chair she observed him uninterruptedly. At +one moment it seemed to her as though she caught an intoxicating +remnant of the slim, pallid lad to whom she had given her love. And +then again came the corroding doubt: "Was it for him, for him...." And +then a great fear oppressed her heart, because this man seemed to live +in a world which she could not reach in a whole life's pilgrimage. +Walls had arisen between them, doors had been bolted--doors that rose +from the depths of the earth to the heights of heaven.... As he sat +there, surrounded by the blue smoke of his cigar, he seemed more and +more to recede into immeasurable distances.... + +Then, suddenly, as if an inspiration had come to him, he pulled +himself together, and his face became serious, almost solemn. He laid +the cigar down on the window-box and pulled out of his inner pocket a +bundle of yellow sheets of paper and blue note-books. + +"I should have done this a long time ago," he said, "because we've +been free to correspond with each other. But I put it off to our +first meeting." + +"Done what?" she asked, seized by an uncomfortable curiosity. + +"Why, render an accounting." + +"An accounting?" + +"But dear Toni, surely you don't think me either ungrateful or +dishonourable. For seven years I have accepted one benefaction after +another from you.... That was a very painful situation for me, dear +child, and I scarcely believe that the circumstances, had they been +known, would ever have been countenanced by a court of honour." + +"Ah, yes," she said slowly. "I confess I never thought of _that_ +consideration...." + +"But I did all the more, for that very reason. And only the +consciousness that I would some day be able to pay you the last penny +of my debt sustained me in my consciousness as a decent fellow." + +"Ah, well, if that's the case, go ahead!" she said, suppressing the +bitter sarcasm that she felt. + +First came the receipts: The proceeds of the stolen jewels began the +long series. Then followed the savings in fares, food and drink and +the furniture rebates. Next came the presents of the county-counsellor, +the profits of the champagne debauches during which she had flung +shame and honour under the feet of the drinking men. She was spared +nothing, but heard again of sums gained by petty thefts from +the till, small profits made in the buying of milk and eggs. It +was a long story of suspense and longing, an inextricable web of +falsification and trickery, of terror and lying without end. The +memory of no guilt and no torture was spared her. + +Then he took up the account of his expenditures. He sat there, eagerly +handling the papers, now frowning heavily when he could not at once +balance some small sum, now stiffening his double chin in satisfied +self-righteousness as he explained some new way of saving that had +occurred to him.... Again and again, to the point of weariness, he +reiterated solemnly: "You see, I'm an honest man." + +And always when he said that, a weary irony prompted her to reply: +"Ah, what that honesty has cost me." ... But she held her peace. + +And again she wanted to cry out: "Let be! A woman like myself doesn't +care for these two-penny decencies." But she saw how deep an inner +necessity it was to him to stand before her in this conventional +spotlessness. And so she didn't rob him of his childlike joy. + +At last he made an end and spread out the little blue books before +her--there was one for each year. "Here," he said proudly, "you can go +over it yourself. It's exact." + +"It had better be!" she cried with a jesting threat and put the little +books under a flower-pot. + +A prankish mood came upon her now which she couldn't resist. + +"Now that this important business is at an end," she said, "there is +still another matter about which I must have some certainty." + +"What is that?" he said, listening intensely. + +"Have you been faithful to me in all this time?" + +He became greatly confused. The scars on his left cheek glowed like +thick, red cords. + +"Perhaps he's got a betrothed somewhere," she thought with a kind of +woeful anger, "whom he's going to throw over now." + +But it wasn't that. Not at all. "Well," he said, "there's no help for +it. I'll confess. And anyhow, _you've_ even been married in the +meantime." + +"I would find it difficult to deny that," she said. + +And then everything came to light. During the early days in Berlin he +had been very intimate with a waitress. Then, when he was an assistant +in the surgical clinic, there had been a sister who even wanted to be +married. "But I made short work of that proposition," he explained +with quiet decision. And as for the Lithuanian servant girl whom he +had in the house now, why, of course he would dismiss her next +morning, so that the house could be thoroughly aired before she +moved in. + +This was the moment in which a desire came upon her--half-ironic, +half-compassionate--to throw her arms about him and say: "You +silly boy!" + +But she did not yield and in the next moment the impulse was gone. +Only an annoyed envy remained. He dared to confess everything to +her--everything. What if she did the same? If he were to leave her in +horrified silence, what would it matter? She would have freed her +soul. Or perhaps he would flare up in grateful love? It was madness to +expect it. No power of heaven or earth could burst open the doors or +demolish the walls that towered between them for all eternity. + +A vast irony engulfed her. She could not rest her soul upon this +pigmy. She felt revengeful rather toward him--revengeful, because he +could sit there opposite her so capable and faithful, so truthful and +decent, so utterly unlike the companion whom she needed. + +Toward twilight he grew restless. He wanted to slip over to his mother +for a moment and then, for another moment, he wanted to drop in at the +fraternity inn. He had to leave at eight. + +"It would be better if you remained until to-morrow," she said with an +emphasis that gave him pause. + +"Why?" + +"If you don't feel that...." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +It wasn't to be done, he assured her, with the best will in the world. +There was an investigation in which he had to help the county-physician. +A small farmer had died suddenly of what did not seem an entirely +natural death. "I suppose," he continued, "one of those love +philtres was used with which superfluous people are put under +ground there. It's horrible that a decent person has to live +among such creatures. If you don't care to do it, I can hardly blame +you." She had grown pale and smiled weakly. She restrained him +no longer. + +"I'll be back in a week," he said, slipping on his goloshes, "and then +we can announce the engagement." + +She nodded several times but made no reply. + +The door was opened and he leaned toward her. Calmly she touched his +lips with hers. + +"You might have the announcement cards printed," he called cheerfully +from the stairs. + +Then he disappeared.... + +"Is the new uncle gone?" Amanda asked. She was sitting in her little +room, busy with her lessons. He had forgotten her. + +The mother nodded. + +"Will he come back soon?" + +Antonie shook her head. + +"I scarcely think so," she answered. + +That night she broke the purpose of her life, the purpose that had +become interwoven with a thousand others, and when the morning came +she wrote a letter of farewell to the beloved of her youth. + + + + + +THE SONG OF DEATH + + +With faint and quivering beats the clock of the hotel announced the +hour to the promenaders on the beach. + +"It is time to eat, Nathaniel," said a slender, yet well-filled-out +young woman, who held a book between her fingers, to a formless +bundle, huddled in many shawls, by her side. Painfully the bundle +unfolded itself, stretched and grew gradually into the form of a +man--hollow chested, thin legged, narrow shouldered, attired in +flopping garments, such as one sees by the thousands on the coasts of +the Riviera in winter. + +The midday glow of the sun burned down upon the yellowish gray wall of +cliff into which the promenade of Nervi is hewn, and which slopes down +to the sea in a zigzag of towering bowlders. + +Upon the blue mirror of the sea sparkled a silvery meshwork of +sunbeams. So vast a fullness of light flooded the landscape that even +the black cypress trees which stood, straight and tall, beyond the +garden walls, seemed to glitter with a radiance of their own. The tide +was silent. Only the waters of the imprisoned springs that poured, +covered with iridescent bubbles, into the hollows between the rocks, +gurgled and sighed wearily. + +The breakfast bell brought a new pulsation of life to the huddled +figures on the beach. + +"He who eats is cured," is the motto of the weary creatures whose arms +are often too weak to carry their forks to their mouths. But he who +comes to this land of eternal summer merely to ease and rest his soul, +trembles with hunger in the devouring sweetness of the air and can +scarcely await the hour of food. + +With a gentle compulsion the young woman pushed the thin, wrinkled +hand of the invalid under her arm and led him carefully through a cool +and narrow road, which runs up to the town between high garden walls +and through which a treacherous draught blows even on the +sunniest days. + +"Are you sure your mouth is covered?" she asked, adapting her springy +gait with difficulty to the dragging steps of her companion. + +An inarticulate murmur behind the heavy shawl was his only answer. + +She stretched her throat a little--a round, white, firm throat, with +two little folds that lay rosy in the rounded flesh. Closing her eyes, +she inhaled passionately the aromatic perfumes of the neighbouring +gardens. It was a strange mixture of odours, like that which is wafted +from the herb chamber of an apothecary. A wandering sunbeam glided +over the firm, short curve of her cheek, which was of almost milky +whiteness, save for the faint redness of those veins which sleepless +nights bring out upon the pallid faces of full-blooded blondes. + +A laughing group of people went swiftly by--white-breeched Englishmen +and their ladies. The feather boas, whose ends fluttered in the wind, +curled tenderly about slender throats, and on the reddish heads bobbed +little round hats, smooth and shining as the tall head-gear of a +German postillion. + +The young woman cast a wistful glance after those happy folk, and +pressed more firmly the arm of her suffering husband. + +Other groups followed. It was not difficult to overtake this pair. + +"We'll be the last, Mary," Nathaniel murmured, with the invalid's +ready reproach. + +But the young woman did not hear. She listened to a soft chatting, +which, carried along between the sounding-boards of these high walls, +was clearly audible. The conversation was conducted in French, and she +had to summon her whole stock of knowledge in order not to lose the +full sense of what was said. "I hope, Madame, that your uncle is not +seriously ill?" + +"Not at all, sir. But he likes his comfort. And since walking bores +him, he prefers to pass his days in an armchair. And it's my function +to entertain him." An arch, pouting _voila_ closed the explanation. + +Next came a little pause. Then the male voice asked: + +"And are you never free, Madame?" + +"Almost never." + +"And may I never again hope for the happiness of meeting you on the +beach?" + +"But surely you may!" + +"_Mille remerciments; Madame_." + +A strangely soft restrained tone echoed in this simple word of thanks. +Secret desires murmured in it and unexpressed confessions. + +Mary, although she did not look as though she were experienced in +flirtation or advances, made a brief, timid gesture. Then, as though +discovered and ashamed, she remained very still. + +Those two then.... That's who it was.... + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +She was a delicately made and elegant Frenchwoman. Her bodice was cut +in a strangely slender way, which made her seem to glide along like a +bird. Or was it her walk that caused the phenomenon? Or the exquisite +arching of her shoulders? Who could tell? ... She did not take her +meals at the common table, but in a corner of the dining-hall in +company of an old gouty gentleman with white stubbles on his chin and +red-lidded eyes. When she entered the hall she let a smiling glance +glide along the table, but without looking at or saluting any one. She +scarcely touched the dishes--at least from the point of view of Mary's +sturdy appetite--but even before the soup was served she nibbled at +the dates meant for dessert, and then the bracelets upon her +incredibly delicate wrists made a strange, fairy music. She wore a +wedding ring. But it had always been open to doubt whether the old +gentleman was her husband. For her demeanour toward him was that of a +spoiled but sedulously watched child. + +And he--he sat opposite Mary at table. He was a very dark young man, +with black, melancholy eyes--Italian eyes, one called them in her +Pomeranian home land. He had remarkably white, narrow hands, and a +small, curly beard, which was clipped so close along the cheeks that +the skin itself seemed to have a bluish shimmer. He had never spoken +to Mary, presumably because he knew no German, but now and then he +would let his eyes rest upon her with a certain smiling emotion which +seemed to her to be very blameworthy and which filled her with +confusion. Thus, however, it had come to pass that, whenever she got +ready to go to table her thoughts were busy with him, and it was not +rare for her to ask herself at the opening of the door to the +dining-hall: "I wonder whether he's here or will come later?" + +For several days there had been noticeable in this young man an +inclination to gaze over his left shoulder to the side table at which +the young Frenchwoman sat. And several times this glance had met an +answering one, however fleeting. And more than that! She could be seen +observing him with smiling consideration as, between the fish and the +roast, she pushed one grape after another between her lips. He was, of +course, not cognisant of all that, but Mary knew of it and was +surprised and slightly shocked. + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +And now they were both silent, thinking, obviously, that they had but +just come within hearing distance. + +Then they hurried past the slowly creeping couple. The lady looked +downward, kicking pebbles; the gentleman bowed. It was done seriously, +discreetly, as befits a mere neighbour at table. Mary blushed. That +happened often, far too often. And she was ashamed. Thus it happened +that she often blushed from fear of blushing. + +The gentleman saw it and did not smile. She thanked him for it in her +heart, and blushed all the redder, for he _might_ have smiled. + +"We'll have to eat the omelettes cold again," the invalid mumbled into +his shawls. + +This time she understood him. + +"Then we'll order fresh ones." + +"Oh," he said reproachfully, "you haven't the courage. You're always +afraid of the waiters." + +She looked up at him with a melancholy smile. + +It was true. She was afraid of the waiters. That could not be denied. +Her necessary dealings with these dark and shiny-haired gentlemen in +evening clothes were a constant source of fear and annoyance. They +scarcely gave themselves the trouble to understand her bad French and +her worse Italian. And when they dared to smile...! + +But his concern had been needless. The breakfast did not consist of +omelettes, but of macaroni boiled in water and mixed with long strings +of cheese. He was forbidden to eat this dish. + +Mary mixed his daily drink, milk with brandy, and was happy to see the +eagerness with which he absorbed the life-giving fumes. The dark +gentleman was already in his seat opposite her, and every now and then +the glance of his velvety eyes glided over her. She was more keenly +conscious of this glance than ever, and dared less than ever to meet +it. A strange feeling, half delight and half resentment, overcame her. +And yet she had no cause to complain that his attention passed the +boundary of rigid seemliness. + +She stroked her heavy tresses of reddish blonde hair, which curved +madonna-like over her temples. They had not been crimped or curled, +but were simple and smooth, as befits the wife of a North German +clergyman. She would have liked to moisten with her lips the fingers +with which she stroked them. This was the only art of the toilet which +she knew. But that would have been improper at table. + +He wore a yellow silk shirt with a pattern of riding crops. A bunch of +violets stuck in his button-hole. Its fragrance floated across +the table. + +Now the young Frenchwoman entered the hall too. Very carefully she +pressed her old uncle's arm, and talked to him in a stream of +charming chatter. + +The dark gentleman quivered. He compressed his lips but did not turn +around. Neither did the lady take any notice of him. She rolled bread +pellets with her nervous fingers, played with her bracelets and let +the dishes go by untouched. + +The long coat of cream silk, which she had put on, increased the tall +flexibility of her form. A being woven of sunlight and morning dew, +unapproachable in her serene distinction--thus she appeared to Mary, +whose hands had been reddened by early toil, and whose breadth of +shoulder was only surpassed by her simplicity of heart. + +When the roast came Nathaniel revived slightly. He suffered her to +fasten the shawl about his shoulders, and rewarded her with a +contented smile. It was her sister Anna's opinion that at such moments +he resembled the Saviour. The eyes in their blue hollows gleamed with +a ghostly light, a faint rosiness shone upon his cheek-bones, and even +the blonde beard on the sunken cheeks took on a certain glow. + +Grateful for the smile, she pressed his arm. She was satisfied with so +little. + +Breakfast was over. The gentleman opposite made his silent bow and +arose. + +"Will he salute her?" Mary asked herself with some inner timidity. + +No. He withdrew without glancing at the corner table. + +"Perhaps they have fallen out again," Mary; said to herself. The lady +looked after him. A gentle smile played about the corners of her +mouth--a superior, almost an ironical smile. Then, her eyes still +turned to the door, she leaned across toward the old gentleman in +eager questioning. + +"She doesn't care for him," Mary reasoned, with a slight feeling of +satisfaction. It was as though some one had returned to her what she +had deemed lost. + +He had been gone long, but his violets had left their fragrance. + +Mary went up to her room to get a warmer shawl for Nathaniel. As she +came out again, she saw in the dim hall the radiant figure of the +French lady come toward her and open the door to the left of her +own room. + +"So we are neighbours," Mary thought, and felt flattered by the +proximity. She would have liked to salute her, but she did not dare. + +Then she accompanied Nathaniel down to the promenade on the beach. The +hours dragged by. + +He did not like to have his brooding meditation interrupted by +questions or anecdotes. These hours were dedicated to getting well. +Every breath here cost money and must be utilised to the utmost. Here +breathing was religion, and falling ill a sin. + +Mary looked dreamily out upon the sea, to which the afternoon sun now +lent a deeper blue. Light wreaths of foam eddied about the stones. In +wide semicircles the great and shadowy arms of the mountains embraced +the sea. From the far horizon, in regions of the upper air, came from +time to time an argent gleam. For there the sun was reflected by +unseen fields of snow. + +There lay the Alps, and beyond them, deep buried in fog and winter, +lay their home land. + +Thither Mary's thoughts wandered. They wandered to a sharp-gabled +little house, groaning under great weights of snow, by the strand of a +frozen stream. The house was so deeply hidden in bushes that the +depending boughs froze fast in the icy river and were not liberated +till the tardy coming of spring. + +And a hundred paces from it stood the white church and the comfortable +parsonage. But what did she care for the parsonage, even though she +had grown to womanhood in it and was now its mistress? + +That little cottage--the widow's house, as the country folk called +it--that little cottage held everything that was dear to her at home. +There sat by the green tile oven--and oh, how she missed it here, +despite the palms and the goodly sun--her aged mother, the former +pastor's widow, and her three older sisters, dear and blonde and thin +and almost faded. There they sat, worlds away, needy and laborious, +and living but in each others' love. Four years had passed since the +father had been carried to the God's acre and they had had to leave +the parsonage. + +That had marked the end of their happiness and their youth. They could +not move to the city, for they had no private means, and the gifts of +the poor congregation, a dwelling, wood and other donations, could not +be exchanged for money. And so they had to stay there quietly and see +their lives wither. + +The candidate of theology, Nathaniel Pogge, equipped with mighty +recommendations, came to deliver his trial sermon. + +As he ascended the pulpit, long and frail, flat-chested and narrow +shouldered, she saw him for the first time. His emaciated, freckled +hand which held the hymn book, trembled with a kind of fever. But his +blue eyes shone with the fires of God. To be sure, his voice sounded +hollow and hoarse, and often he had to struggle for breath in the +middle of a sentence. But what he said was wise and austere, and found +favour in the eyes of his congregation. + +His mother moved with him into the parsonage. She was a small, fussy +lady, energetic and very business-like, who complained of what she +called previous mismanagement and seemed to avoid friendly relations. + +But her son found his way to the widow's house for all that. He found +it oftener and oftener, and the only matter of uncertainty was as to +which of the four sisters had impressed him. + +She would never have dreamed that his eye had fallen upon her, the +youngest. But a refusal was not to be thought of. It was rather her +duty to kiss his hands in gratitude for taking her off her mother's +shoulders and liberating her from a hopeless situation. Certainly she +would not have grudged her happiness to one of her sisters; if it +could be called happiness to be subject to a suspicious mother-in-law +and the nurse of a valetudinarian. But she tried to think it +happiness. And, after all, there was the widow's house, to which one +could slip over to laugh or to weep one's fill, as the mood of the +hour dictated. Either would have been frowned upon at home. + +And of course she loved him. + +Assuredly. How should she not have loved him? Had she not sworn to do +so at the altar? And then his condition grew worse from day to day and +needed her love all the more. + +It happened ever oftener that she had to get up at night to heat his +moss tea; and ever more breathlessly he cowered in the sacristy after +his weekly sermon. And that lasted until the hemorrhage came, which +made the trip south imperative. + +Ah, and with what grave anxieties had this trip been undertaken! A +substitute had to be procured. Their clothes and fares swallowed the +salary of many months. They had to pay fourteen francs board a day, +not to speak of the extra expenses for brandy, milk, fires and drugs. +Nor was this counting the physician who came daily. It was a desperate +situation. + +But he recovered. At least it was unthinkable that he shouldn't. What +object else would these sacrifices have had? + +He recovered. The sun and sea and air cured him; or, at least, her +love cured him. And this love, which Heaven had sent her as her +highest duty, surrounded him like a soft, warm garment, exquisitely +flexible to the movement of every limb, not hindering, but yielding to +the slightest impulse of movement; forming a protection against the +rough winds of the world, surer than a wall of stone or a cloak +of fire. + +The sun sank down toward the sea. His light assumed a yellow, metallic +hue, hard and wounding, before it changed and softened into violet and +purple shades. The group of pines on the beach seemed drenched in a +sulphurous light and the clarity of their outlines hurt the eye. Like + a heavy and compact mass, ready to hurtle down, the foliage of the +gardens bent over the crumbling walls. From the mountains came a gusty +wind that announced the approaching fall of night. + +The sick man shivered. Mary was about to suggest their going home, +when she perceived the form of a man that had intruded between her and +the sinking sun and that was surrounded by a yellow radiance. She +recognised the dark gentleman. + +A feeling of restlessness overcame her, but she could not turn her +eyes from him. Always, when he was near, a strange presentiment came +to her--a dreamy knowledge of an unknown land. This impression varied +in clearness. To-night she was fully conscious of it. + +What she felt was difficult to put into words. She seemed almost to be +afraid of him. And yet that was impossible, for what was he to her? +She wasn't even interested in him. Surely not. His eyes, his violet +fragrance, the flexible elegance of his movements--these things merely +aroused in her a faint curiosity. Strictly speaking, he wasn't even a +sympathetic personality, and had her sister Lizzie, who had a gift for +satire, been here, they would probably have made fun of him. The +anxious unquiet which he inspired must have some other source. Here +in the south everything was so different--richer, more colourful, more +vivid than at home. The sun, the sea, houses, flowers, faces--upon +them all lay more impassioned hues. Behind all that there must be a +secret hitherto unrevealed to her. + +She felt this secret everywhere. It lay in the heavy fragrance of the +trees, in the soft swinging of the palm leaves, in the multitudinous +burgeoning and bloom about her. It lay in the long-drawn music of the +men's voices, in the caressing laughter of the women. It lay in the +flaming blushes that, even at table, mantled her face; in the +delicious languor that pervaded her limbs and seemed to creep into the +innermost marrow of her bones. + +But this secret which she felt, scented and absorbed with every organ +of her being, but which was nowhere to be grasped, looked upon or +recognised--this secret was in some subtle way connected with the man +who stood there, irradiated, upon the edge of the cliff, and gazed +upon the ancient tower which stood, unreal as a piece of stage +scenery, upon the path. + +Now he observed her. + +For a moment it seemed as though he were about to approach to address +her. In his character of a neighbour at table he might well have +ventured to do so. But the hasty gesture with which she turned to +her sick husband forbade it. + +"That would be the last inconvenience," Mary thought, "to make +acquaintances." + +But as she was going home with her husband, she surprised herself in +speculation as to how she might have answered his words. + +"My French will go far enough," she thought. "At need I might have +risked it." + +The following day brought a sudden lapse in her husband's recovery. + +"That happens often," said the physician, a bony consumptive with the +manners of a man of the world and an equipment in that inexpensive +courtesy which doctors are wont to assume in hopeless and poorly +paying cases. + +To listen to him one would think that pulmonary consumption ended in +invariable improvement. + +"And if something happens during the night?" Mary asked anxiously. + +"Then just wait quietly until morning," the doctor said with the firm +decision of a man who doesn't like to have his sleep disturbed. + +Nathaniel had to stay in bed and Mary was forced to request the +waiters to bring meals up to their room. + +Thus passed several days, during which she scarcely left the sick-bed +of her husband. And when she wasn't writing home, or reading to him +from the hymn book, or cooking some easing draught upon the spirit +lamp, she gazed dreamily out of the window. + +She had not seen her beautiful neighbour again. With all the more +attention she sought to catch any sound, any word that might give her +a glimpse into the radiant Paradise of that other life. + +A soft singing ushered in the day. Then followed a laughing chatter +with the little maid, accompanied by the rattle of heated +curling-irons and splashing of bath sponges. Occasionally, too, there +was a little dispute on the subject of ribands or curls or such +things. Mary's French, which was derived from the _Histoire de Charles +douze,_ the _Aventures de Telemaque_ and other lofty books, found an +end when it came to these discussions. + +About half-past ten the lady slipped from her room. Then one could +hear her tap at her uncle's door, or call a laughing good-morning to +him from the hall. + +From now on the maid reigned supreme in the room. She straightened it, +sang, rattled the curling-irons even longer than for her mistress, +tripped up and down, probably in front of the mirror, and received the +kindly attentions of several waiters. From noon on everything was +silent and remained silent until dusk. Then the lady returned. The +little songs she sang were of the very kind that one might well sing +if, with full heart, one gazes out upon the sea, while the +orange-blossoms are fragrant and the boughs of the eucalyptus rustle. +They proved to Mary that in that sunny creature, as in herself, there +dwelt that gentle, virginal yearning that had always been to her a +source of dreamy happiness. + +At half-past five o'clock the maid knocked at the door. Then began +giggling and whispering as of two school-girls. Again sounded the +rattle of the curling-irons and the rustling of silken skirts. The +fragrance of unknown perfumes and essences penetrated into Mary's +room, and she absorbed it eagerly. + +The dinner-bell rang and the room was left empty. + +At ten o'clock there resounded a merry: "_Bonne nuit, mon oncle!_" + +Angeline, the maid, received her mistress at the door and performed +the necessary services more quietly than before. Then she went out, +received by the waiters, who were on the stairs. + +Then followed, in there, a brief evening prayer, carelessly and half +poutingly gabbled as by a tired child. At eleven the keyhole grew +dark. And during the hours of Mary's heaviest service, there sounded +within the peaceful drawing of uninterrupted breath. + +This breathing was a consolation to her during the terrible, creeping +hours, whose paralysing monotony was only interrupted by anxious +crises in the patient's condition. + +The breathing seemed to her a greeting from a pure and sisterly +soul--a greeting from that dear land of joy where one can laugh by day +and sing in the dusk and sleep by night. + +Nathaniel loved the hymns for the dying. + +He asserted that they filled him with true mirth. The more he could +gibe at hell or hear the suffering of the last hours put to scorn, the +more could he master a kind of grim humour. He, the shepherd of souls, +felt it his duty to venture upon the valley of the shadow to which he +had so often led the trembling candidate of death, with the boldness +of a hero in battle. + +This poor, timid soul, who had never been able to endure the angry +barking of a dog, played with the terror of death like a bull-necked +gladiator. + +"Read me a song of death, but a strengthening one," he would say +repeatedly during the day, but also at night, if he could not sleep. +He needed it as a child needs its cradle song. Often he was angry +when in her confusion and blinded by unshed tears, she chose a wrong +one. Like a literary connoisseur who rolls a Horatian ode or a +Goethean lyric upon his tongue--even thus he enjoyed these +sombre stanzas. + +There was one: "I haste to my eternal home," in which the beyond was +likened to a bridal chamber and to a "crystal sea of blessednesses." +There was another: "Greatly rejoice now, O my soul," which would admit +no redeeming feature about this earth, and was really a prayer for +release. And there was one filled with the purest folly of +Christendom: "In peace and joy I fare from hence." And this one +promised a smiling sleep. But they were all overshadowed by that +rejoicing song: "Thank God, the hour has come!" which, like a cry of +victory, points proudly and almost sarcastically to the conquered +miseries of the earth. + +The Will to Live of the poor flesh intoxicated itself with these pious +lies as with some hypnotic drug. But at the next moment it recoiled +and gazed yearningly and eager eyed out into the sweet and sinful +world, which didn't tally in the least with that description of it as +a vale of tears, of which the hymns were so full. + +Mary read obediently what he demanded. Close to her face she held the +narrow hymn-book, fighting down her sobs. For he did not think of +the tortures he prepared for his anxiously hoping wife. + +Why did he thirst for death since he knew that he _must_ not die? + +Not yet. Ah, not yet! Now that suddenly a whole, long, unlived life +lay between them--a life they had never even suspected. + +She could not name it, this new, rich life, but she felt it +approaching, day by day. It breathed its fragrant breath into her face +and poured an exquisite bridal warmth into her veins. + +It was on the fourth day of his imprisonment in his room. The +physician had promised him permission to go out on the morrow. + +His recovery was clear. + +She sat at the window and inhaled with quivering nostrils the sharp +fragrance of the burning pine cones that floated to her in +bluish waves. + +The sun was about to set. An unknown bird sat, far below, in the +orange grove and, as if drunk with light and fragrance, chirped +sleepily and ended with a fluting tone. + +Now that the great dread of the last few days was taken from her, that +sweet languor the significance of which she could not guess came over +her again. + +Her neighbour had already come home. She opened her window and closed +it, only to open it again. From time to time she sang a few brief +tones, almost like the strange bird in the grove. + +Then her door rattled and Angeline's voice cried out with jubilant +laughter: "_Une lettre, Madame, une lettre_!" + +"_Une lettre--de qui?_" + +"_De lui!_" + +Then a silence fell, a long silence. + +Who was this "he?" Surely some one at home. It was the hour of the +mail delivery. + +But the voice of the maid soon brought enlightenment. + +She had managed the affair cleverly. She had met him in the hall and +saluted him so that he had found the courage to address her. And just +now he had pressed the envelope, together with a twenty-franc piece, +into her hand. He asserted that he had an important communication to +make to her mistress, but had never found an opportunity to address +himself to her in person. + +"_Tais-toi donc--on nous entend_!" + +And from now on nothing was to be heard but whispering and giggling. + +Mary felt now a wave of hotness, started from her nape and overflowing +her face. + +Listening and with beating heart, she sat there. + +What in all the world could he have written? For that it was he, she +could no longer doubt. + +Perhaps he had declared his love and begged for the gift of her hand. + A dull feeling of pain, the cause of which was dark to her, +oppressed her heart. + +And then she smiled--a smile of renouncement, although there was +surely nothing here for her to renounce! + +And anyhow--the thing was impossible. For she, to whom such an offer +is made does not chat with a servant girl. Such an one flees into some +lonely place, kneels down, and prays to God for enlightenment and +grace in face of so important a step. + +But indeed she did send the girl away, for the latter's slippers could +he heard trailing along the hall. + +Then was heard gentle, intoxicated laughter, full of restrained +jubilation and arch triumph: "_O comme je suis heureuse! Comme je suis +heureuse!"_ + +Mary felt her eyes grow moist. She felt glad and poignantly sad at the +same time. She would have liked to kiss and bless the other woman, for +now it was clear that he had come to claim her as his bride. + +"If she doesn't pray, I will pray for her," she thought, and folded +her hands. Then a voice sounded behind her, hollow as the roll of +falling earth; rasping as coffin cords: + +"Read me a song of death, Mary." + +A shudder came over her. She jumped up. And she who had hitherto +taken up the hymn-book at his command without hesitation or complaint, +fell down beside his bed and grasped his emaciated arm: "Have pity--I +can't! I can't!" + +Three days passed. The sick man preferred to stay in bed, although his +recovery made enormous strides. Mary brewed his teas, gave him his +drops, and read him his songs of death. That one attempt at rebellion +had remained her only one. + +She heard but little of her neighbour. It seemed that that letter had +put an end to her talkative merriment. The happiness which she had so +jubilantly confessed seemed to have been of brief duration. + +And in those hours when Mary was free to pursue her dreams, she shared +the other's yearning and fear. Probably the old uncle had made +difficulties; had refused his consent, or even demanded the separation +of the lovers. + +Perhaps the dark gentleman had gone away. Who could tell? + +"What strange eyes he had," she thought at times, and whenever she +thought that, she shivered, for it seemed to her that his hot, veiled +glance was still upon her. + +"I wonder whether he is really a good man?" she asked herself. She +would have liked to answer this question in the affirmative, but there + was something that kept her from doing so. And there was another +something in her that took but little note of that aspect, but only +prayed that those two might be happy together, happy as she herself +had never been, happy as--and here lay the secret. + +It was a Sunday evening, the last one in January. + +Nathaniel lay under the bed-clothes and breathed with difficulty. His +fever was remarkably low, but he was badly smothered. + +The lamp burned on the table--a reading lamp had been procured with +difficulty and had been twice carried off in favour of wealthier +guests. Toward the bed Mary had shaded the lamp with a piece of red +blotting paper from her portfolio. A rosy shimmer poured out over the +couch of the ill man, tinted the red covers more red, and caused a +deceptive glow of health to appear on his cheek. + +The flasks and vials on the table glittered with an equivocal +friendliness, as though something of the demeanour of him who had +prescribed their contents adhered to them. + +Between them lay the narrow old hymnal and the gilt figures, "1795" +shimmered in the middle of the worn and shabby covers. + +The hour of retirement had come. The latest of the guests, returning +from the reading room, had said good-night to each other in the +hall. Angeline had been dismissed. Her giggles floated away into +silence along the bannisters and the last of her adorers tiptoed by to +turn out the lights. + +From the next room there came no sound. She was surely asleep, +although her breathing was inaudible. + +Mary sat at the table. Her head was heavy and she stared into the +luminous circle of the lamp. She needed sleep. Yet she was not sleepy. +Every nerve in her body quivered with morbid energy. + +A wish of the invalid called her to his side. + +"The pillow has a lump," he said, and tried to turn over on his other +side. + +Ah, these pillows of sea-grass. She patted, she smoothed, she did her +best, but his head found no repose. + +"Here's another night full of the torment and terror of the flesh," he +said with difficulty, mouthing each word. + +"Do you want a drink?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"The stuff is bitter--but you see--this fear--there's the air and it +fills everything--they say it's ten miles high--and a man like myself +can't--get enough--you see I'm getting greedy." The mild jest upon +his lips was so unwonted that it frightened her. + +"I'd like to ask you to open the window." + +She opposed him. + +"The night air," she urged; "the draught----" + +But that upset him. + +"If you can't do me so small a favour in my suffering--" + +"Forgive me," she said, "it was only my anxiety for you--" + +She got up and opened the French window that gave upon a narrow +balcony. + +The moonlight flooded the room. + +Pressing her hands to her breast, she inhaled the first aromatic +breath of the night air which cooled and caressed her hot face. + +"Is it better so?" she asked, turning around. + +He nodded. "It is better so." + +Then she stepped out on the balcony. She could scarcely drink her fill +of air and moonlight. + +But she drew back, affrighted. What she had just seen was like an +apparition. + +On the neighbouring balcony stood, clad in white, flowing garments of +lace, a woman's figure, and stared with wide open eyes into the +moonlight. + +It was she--her friend. + +Softly Mary stepped out again and observed her, full of shy curiosity. + The moonlight shone full upon the delicate slim face, that seemed to +shine with an inner radiance. The eye had a yearning glow. A smile, +ecstatic and fearful at once, made the lips quiver, and the hands that +grasped the iron railing pulsed as if in fear and expectation. + +Mary heard her own heart begin to beat. A hot flush rose into her +face? + +What was all that? What did it mean? + +Such a look, such a smile, she had never seen in her life. And yet +both seemed infinitely familiar to her. Thus a woman must look who-- + +She had no time to complete the thought, for a fit of coughing +recalled her to Nathaniel. + +A motion of his hand directed her to close the window and the +shutters. It would have been better never to have opened them. Better +for her, too, perhaps. + +Then she sat down next to him and held his head until the paroxysm was +over. + +He sank back, utterly exhausted. His hand groped for hers. With +abstracted caresses she touched his weary fingers. + +Her thoughts dwelt with that white picture without. That poignant +feeling of happiness that she had almost lost during the past few +days, arose in her with a hitherto unknown might. + +And now the sick man began to speak. + +"You have always been good to me, Mary," he said. "You have always +had patience with me." + +"Ah, don't speak so," she murmured. + +"And I wish I could say as full of assurance as you could before the +throne of God: 'Father, I have been true to the duty which you have +allotted to me.'" + +Her hand quivered in his. A feeling of revulsion smothered the +gentleness of their mood. His words had struck her as a reproach. + +Fulfillment of duty! That was the great law to which all human kind +was subject for the sake of God. This law had joined her hand to his, +had accompanied her into the chastity of her bridal bed, and had kept +its vigil through the years by her hearth and in her heart. And thus +love itself had not been difficult to her, for it was commanded to her +and consecrated before the face of God. + +And he? He wished for nothing more, knew nothing more. Indeed, what +lies beyond duty would probably have seemed burdensome to him, if not +actually sinful. + +But there was something more! She knew it now. She had seen it in that +glance, moist with yearning, lost in the light. + +There was something great and ecstatic and all-powerful, something +before which she quailed like a child who must go into the dark, +something that she desired with every nerve and fibre. + +Her eye fastened itself upon the purple square of blotting paper which +looked, in the light of the lamp, like glowing metal. + +She did not know how long she had sat there. It might have been +minutes or hours. Often enough the morning had caught her +brooding thus. + +The sick man's breath came with greater difficulty, his fingers +grasped hers more tightly. + +"Do you feel worse?" she asked. + +"I am a little afraid," he said; "therefore, read me----" + +He stopped, for he felt the quiver of her hand. + +"You know, if you don't want to--" He was wounded in his wretched +valetudinarian egotism, which was constantly on the scent of neglect. + +"Oh, but I do want to; I want to do everything that might----" + +She hurried to the table, pushed the glittering bottles aside, grasped +the hymnal and read at random. + +But she had to stop, for it was a prayer for rain that she had begun. + +Then, as she was turning the leaves of the book, she heard the hall +door of the next room open with infinite caution; she heard flying, +trembling footsteps cross the room from the balcony. + +_"Chut!"_ whispered a trembling voice. + +And the door closed as with a weary moan. + +What was that? + +A suspicion arose in her that brought the scarlet of shame into her +cheek. The whispering next door began anew, passionate, hasty, +half-smothered by anxiety and delight. Two voices were to be +distinguished: a lighter voice which she knew, and a duller voice, +broken into, now and then, by sonorous tones. + +The letters dislimned before her eyes. The hymn-book slipped from her +hands. In utter confusion she stared toward the door. + +_That_ really existed? Such things were possible in the world; +possible among people garbed in distinction, of careful Christian +training, to whom one looks up as to superior beings? + +There was a power upon earth that could make the delicate, radiant, +distinguished woman so utterly forget shame and dignity and +womanliness, that she would open her door at midnight to a man who had +not been wedded to her in the sight of God? + +If that could happen, what was there left to cling to in this world? +Where was one's faith in honour, fidelity, in God's grace and one's +own human worth? A horror took hold of her so oppressive that she +thought she must cry out aloud. + +With a shy glance she looked at her husband. God grant that he hear +nothing. + +She was ashamed before him. She desired to call out, to sing, laugh, +only to drown the noise of that whispering which assailed her ear like +the wave of a fiery sea. + +But no, he heard nothing. + +His sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. He was busied with his +breathing. His chest heaved and fell like a defective machine. + +He didn't even expect her to read to him now. She went up to the bed +and asked, listening with every nerve: "Do you want to sleep, +Nathaniel?" + +He lowered his eyelids in assent. + +"Yes--read," he breathed. + +"Shall I read softly?" + +Again he assented. + +"But read--don't sleep." + +Fear flickered in his eyes. + +"No, no," she stammered. + +He motioned her to go now, and again became absorbed in the problem of +breathing. + +Mary took up the hymnal. + +"You are to read a song of death," she said to herself, for her +promise must be kept. And as though she had not understood her own +admonition, she repeated: "You are to read a song of death." + +But her hearing was morbidly alert, and while the golden figures on +the book danced a ghostly dance before her eyes, she heard again what +she desired to hear. It was like the whispering of the wind against a +forbidden gate. She caught words: + +"_Je t'aime--follement--j'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour--mon +amour._" + +Mary closed her eyes. It seemed to her again as though hot waves +streamed over her. And she had lost shame, too. + +For there was something in all that which silenced reproach, which +made this monstrous deed comprehensible, even natural. If one was so +mad with love, if one felt that one could die of it! + +So that existed, and was not only the lying babble of romances? + +And her spirit returned and compared her own experience of love with +what she witnessed now. + +She had shrunk pitifully from his first kiss. When he had gone, she +had embraced her mother's knees, in fear and torment at the thought of +following this strange man. And she remembered how, on the evening of +her wedding, her mother had whispered into her ear, "Endure, my child, +and pray to God, for that is the lot of woman." And it was that +which, until to-day, she had called love. + +Oh, those happy ones there, those happy ones! + +"Mary," the hollow voice from the bed came. + +She jumped up. "What?" + +"You--don't read." + +"I'll read; I'll read." + +Her hands grovelled among the rough, sticky pages. An odour as of +decaying foliage, which she had never noted before, came from the +book. It was such an odour as comes from dark, ill-ventilated rooms, +and early autumn and everyday clothes. + +At last she found what she was seeking. "Kyrie eleison! Christe +eleison! Dear God, Father in heaven, have mercy upon us!" + +Her lips babbled what her eyes saw, but her heart and her senses +prayed another prayer: "Father in Heaven, who art love and mercy, do +not count for sin to those two that which they are committing against +themselves. Bless their love, even if they do not desire Thy blessing. +Send faithfulness into their hearts that they cleave to one another +and remain grateful for the bliss which Thou givest them. Ah, those +happy ones, those happy ones!" + +Tears came into her eyes. She bent her face upon the yellow leaves of +the book to hide her weeping. It seemed to her suddenly as though +she understood the speech spoken in this land of eternal spring by sun +and sea, by hedges of flowers and evergreen trees, by the song of +birds and the laughter of man. The secret which she had sought to +solve by day and by night lay suddenly revealed before her eyes. + +In a sudden change of feeling her heart grew cold toward that sinful +pair for which she had but just prayed. Those people became as +strangers to her and sank into the mist. Their whispering died away as +if it came from a great distance. + +It was her own life with which she was now concerned. Gray and morose +with its poverty stricken notion of duty, the past lay behind her. +Bright and smiling a new world floated into her ken. + +She had sworn to love him. She had cheated him. She had let him know +want at her side. + +Now that she knew what love was, she would reward him an hundred-fold. +She, too, could love to madness, to adoration, to death. And she must +love so, else she would die of famishment. + +Her heart opened. Waves of tenderness, stormy, thunderous, mighty, +broke forth therefrom. + +Would he desire all that love? And understand it? Was he worthy +of it? What did that matter? + +She must give, give without measure and without reward, without +thought and without will, else she would smother under all her riches. + +And though he was broken and famished and mean of mind and wretched, a +weakling in body and a dullard in soul; and though he lay there +emaciated and gasping, a skeleton almost, moveless, half given over to +dust and decay--what did it matter? + +She loved him, loved him with that new and great love because he alone +in all the world was her own. He was that portion of life and light +and happiness which fate had given her. + +She sprang up and stretched out her arms toward him. + +"You my only one, my all," she whispered, folding her hands under her +chin and staring at him. + +His chest seemed quieter. He lay there in peace. + +Weeping with happiness, she threw herself down beside him and kissed +his hands. And then, as he took no notice of all that, a slow +astonishment came over her. Also, she had an insecure feeling that his +hand was not as usual. + +Powerless to cry out, almost to breathe, she looked upon him. She +felt his forehead; she groped for his heart. All was still and cold. +Then she knew. + +The bell--the waiters--the physician--to what purpose? There was no +need of help here. She knelt down and wanted to pray, and make up for +her neglect. + +A vision arose before her: the widow's house at home; her mother; the +tile oven; her old maidenish sisters rattling their wooden crocheting +hooks--and she herself beside them, her blonde hair smoothed with +water, a little riband at her breast, gazing out upon the frozen +fields, and throttling, throttling with love. For he whom fate had +given her could use her love no longer. + +From the next room sounded the whispering, monotonous, broken, +assailing her ears in glowing waves: + +"_J'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour._" + +That was his song of death. She felt that it was her own, too. + + + + + +THE VICTIM + + +Madame Nelson, the beautiful American, had come to us from Paris, +equipped with a phenomenal voice and solid Italian technique. She had +immediately sung her way into the hearts of Berlin music-lovers, +provided that you care to call a mixture of snobbishness, +sophisticated impressionableness and goose-like imitativeness--heart. +She had, therefore, been acquired by one of our most distinguished +opera houses at a large salary and with long leaves of absence. I use +the plural of opera house in order that no one may try to scent out +the facts. + +Now we had her, more especially our world of Lotharios had her. Not +the younger sons of high finance, who make the boudoirs unsafe with +their tall collars and short breeches; nor the bearers of ancient +names who, having hung up their uniforms in the evening, assume +monocle and bracelet and drag these through second and third-class +drawing-rooms. No, she belonged to those worthy men of middle age, who +have their palaces in the west end, whose wives one treats with +infinite respect, and to whose evenings one gives a final touch of +elegance by singing two or three songs for nothing. + +Then she committed her first folly. She went travelling with an +Italian tenor. "For purposes of art," was the official version. But +the time for the trip--the end of August--had been unfortunately +chosen. And, as she returned ornamented with scratches administered by +the tenor's pursuing wife--no one believed her. + +Next winter she ruined a counsellor of a legation and magnate's son so +thoroughly that he decamped to an unfrequented equatorial region, +leaving behind him numerous promissory notes of questionable value. + +This poor fellow was revenged the following winter by a dark-haired +Roumanian fiddler, who beat her and forced her to carry her jewels to +a pawnshop, where they were redeemed at half price by their original +donour and used to adorn the plump, firm body of a stupid little +ballet dancer. + +Of course her social position was now forfeited. But then Berlin +forgets so rapidly. She became proper again and returned to her +earlier inclinations for gentlemen of middle life with extensive +palaces and extensive wives. So there were quite a few houses--none of +the strictest tone, of course--that were very glad to welcome the +radiant blonde with her famous name and fragrant and modest +gowns--from Paquin at ten thousand francs a piece. + +At the same time she developed a remarkable business instinct. Her +connections with the stock exchange permitted her to speculate without +the slightest risk. For what gallant broker would let a lovely woman +lose? Thus she laid the foundation of a goodly fortune, which was made +to assume stately proportions by a tour through the United States, and +was given a last touch of solidity by a successful speculation in +Dresden real estate. + +Furthermore, it would be unjust to conceal the fact that her most +recent admirer, the wool manufacturer Wormser, had a considerable +share in this hurtling rise of her fortunes. + +Wormser guarded his good repute carefully. He insisted that his +illegitimate inclinations never lack the stamp of highest elegance. He +desired that they be given the greatest possible publicity at +race-meets and first nights. He didn't care if people spoke with a +degree of rancour, if only he was connected with the temporary lady of +his heart. + +Now, to be sure, there was a Mrs. Wormser. She came of a good +Frankfort family. Dowry: a million and a half. She was modern to the +very tips of her nervous, restless fingers. + +This lady was inspired by such lofty social ideals that she would +have considered an inelegant _liaison_ on her husband's part, an +insult not only offered to good taste in general, but to her own in +particular. Such an one she would, never have forgiven. On the other +hand, she approved of Madame Nelson thoroughly. She considered her the +most costly and striking addition to her household. Quite +figuratively, of course. Everything was arranged with the utmost +propriety. At great charity festivals the two ladies exchanged a +friendly glance, and they saw to it that their gowns were never made +after the same model. + +Then it happened that the house of Wormser was shaken. It wasn't a +serious breakdown, but among the good things that had to be thrown +overboard belonged--at the demand of the helping Frankforters--Madame +Nelson. + +And so she waited, like a virgin, for love, like a man in the weather +bureau, for a given star. She felt that her star was yet to rise. + +This was the situation when, one day, Herr von Karlstadt had himself +presented to her. He was a captain of industry; international +reputation; ennobled; the not undistinguished son of a great father. +He had not hitherto been found in the market of love, but it was said +of him that notable women had committed follies for his sake. All in +all, he was a man who commanded the general interest in quite a +different measure from Wormser. + +But artistic successes had raised Madame Nelson's name once more, too, +and when news of the accomplished fact circulated, society found it +hard to decide as to which of the two lent the other a more brilliant +light, or which was the more to be envied. + +However that was, history was richer by a famous pair of lovers. + +But, just as there had been a Mrs. Wormser, so there was a Mrs. von +Karlstadt. + +And it is this lady of whom I wish to speak. + +Mentally as well as physically Mara von Karlstadt did not belong to +that class of persons which imperatively commands the attention of the +public. She was sensitive to the point of madness, a little sensuous, +something of an enthusiast, coquettish only in so far as good taste +demanded it, and hopelessly in love with her husband. She was in love +with him to the extent that she regarded the conquests which +occasionally came to him, spoiled as he was, as the inevitable +consequences of her fortunate choice. They inspired her with a certain +woeful anger and also with a degree of pride. + +The daughter of a great land owner in South Germany, she had been +brought up in seclusion, and had learned only very gradually how to +glide unconcernedly through the drawing-rooms. A tense smile upon her +lips, which many took for irony, was only a remnant of her old +diffidence. Delicate, dark in colouring, with a fine cameo-like +profile, smooth hair and a tawny look in her near-sighted eyes--thus +she glided about in society, and few but friends of the house took any +notice of her. + +And this woman who found her most genuine satisfaction in the +peacefulness of life, who was satisfied if she could slip into her +carriage at midnight without the annoyance of one searching glance, of +one inquiring word, saw herself suddenly and without suspecting the +reason, become the centre of a secret and almost insulting curiosity. +She felt a whispering behind her in society; she saw from her box the +lenses of many opera glasses pointing her way. + +The conversation of her friends began to teem with hints, and into the +tone of the men whom she knew there crept a kind of tender compassion +which pained her even though she knew not how to interpret it. + +For the present no change was to be noted in the demeanour of her +husband. His club and his business had always kept him away from home +a good deal, and if a few extra hours of absence were now added, it +was easy to account for these in harmless ways, or rather, not to +account for them at all, since no one made any inquiry. + +Then, however, anonymous letters began to come--thick, fragrant ones +with stamped coronets, and thin ones on ruled paper with the smudges +of soiled fingers. + +She burned the first batch; the second she handed to her husband. + +The latter, who was not far from forty, and who had trained himself to +an attitude of imperious brusqueness, straightened up, knotted his +bushy Bismarck moustache, and said: + +"Well, suppose it is true. What have you to lose?" + +She did not burst into tears of despair; she did not indulge in fits +of rage; she didn't even leave the room with quiet dignity; her soul +seemed neither wounded nor broken. She was not even affrighted. She +only thought: "I have forgiven him so much; why not forgive him +this, too?" + +And as she had shared him before without feeling herself degraded, so +she would try to share him again. + +But she soon observed that this logic of the heart would prove wanting +in this instance. + +In former cases she had concealed his weakness under a veil of care +and considerateness. The fear of discovery had made a conscious but +silent accessory of her. When it was all over she breathed deep relief +at the thought; "I am the only one who even suspected." + +This time all the world seemed invited to witness the spectacle. + +For now she understood all that, in recent days had tortured her like +an unexplained blot, an alien daub in the face which every one sees +but he whom it disfigures. Now she knew what the smiling hints of her +friends and the consoling desires of men had meant. Now she recognised +the reason why she was wounded by the attention of all. + +She was "the wife of the man whom Madame Nelson ..." + +And so torturing a shame came upon her as though she herself were the +cause of the disgrace with which the world seemed to overwhelm her. + +This feeling had not come upon her suddenly. At first a stabbing +curiosity had awakened in her a self-torturing expectation, not +without its element of morbid attraction. Daily she asked herself: +"What will develope to-day?" + +With quivering nerves and cramped heart, she entered evening after +evening, for the season was at its height, the halls of strangers on +her husband's arm. + +And it was always the same thing. The same glances that passed from +her to him and from him to her, the same compassionate sarcasm upon +averted faces, the same hypocritical delicacy in conversation, the +same sudden silence as soon as she turned to any group of people to +listen--the same cruel pillory for her evening after evening, night +after night. + +And if all this had not been, she would have felt it just the same. + +And in these drawing-rooms there were so many women whose husbands' +affairs were the talk of the town. Even her predecessor, Mrs. Wormser, +had passed over the expensive immorality of her husband with a +self-sufficing smile and a condescending jest, and the world had bowed +down to her respectfully, as it always does when scenting a +temperament that it is powerless to wound. + +Why had this martyrdom come to her, of all people? + +Thus, half against her own will, she began to hide, to refuse this or +that invitation, and to spend the free evenings in the nursery, +watching over the sleep of her boys and weaving dreams of a new +happiness. The illness of her older child gave her an excuse for +withdrawing from society altogether and her husband did not +restrain her. + +It had never come to an explanation between them, and as he was always +considerate, even tender, and as sharp speeches were not native to +her temper, the peace of the home was not disturbed. + +Soon it seemed to her, too, as though the rude inquisitiveness of the +world were slowly passing away. Either one had abandoned the critical +condition of her wedded happiness for more vivid topics, or else she +had become accustomed to the state of affairs. + +She took up a more social life, and the shame which she had felt in +appearing publicly with her husband gradually died out. + +What did not die out, however, was a keen desire to know the nature +and appearance of the woman in whose hands lay her own destiny. How +did she administer the dear possession that fate had put in her power? +And when and how would she give it back? + +She threw aside the last remnant of reserve and questioned friends. +Then, when she was met by a smile of compassionate ignorance, she +asked women. These were more ready to report. But she would not and +could not believe what she was told. He had surely not degraded +himself into being one of a succession of moneyed rakes. It was clear +to her that, in order to soothe her grief, people slandered the woman +and him with her. + +In order to watch her secretly, she veiled heavily and drove to the +theatre where Madame Nelson was singing. Shadowlike she cowered +in the depths of a box which she had rented under an assumed name and +followed with a kind of pained voluptuousness the ecstasies of love +which the other woman, fully conscious of the victorious loveliness of +her body, unfolded for the benefit of the breathless crowd. + +With such an abandoned raising of her radiant arms, she threw herself +upon _his_ breast; with that curve of her modelled limbs, she lay +before _his_ knees. + +And in her awakened a reverent, renouncing envy of a being who had so +much to give, beside whom she was but a dim and poor shadow, weary +with motherhood, corroded with grief. + +At the same time there appeared a California mine owner, a +multi-millionaire, with whom her husband had manifold business +dealings. He introduced his daughters into society and himself gave a +number of luxurious dinners at which he tried to assemble guests of +the most exclusive character. + +Just as they were about to enter a carriage to drive to the "Bristol," +to one of these dinners, a message came which forced Herr von +Karlstadt to take an immediate trip to his factories. He begged his +wife to go instead, and she did not refuse. + +The company was almost complete and the daughter of the mine owner +was doing the honours of the occasion with appropriate grace when the +doors of the reception room opened for the last time and through the +open doorway floated rather than walked--Madame Nelson. + +The petrified little group turned its glance of inquisitive horror +upon Mrs. von Karlstadt, while the mine owner's daughter adjusted the +necessary introductions with a grand air. + +Should she go or not? No one was to be found who would offer her his +arm. Her feet were paralysed. And she remained. + +The company sat down at table. And since fate, in such cases, never +does its work by halves, it came to pass that Madame Nelson was +assigned to a seat immediately opposite her. + +The people present seemed grateful to her that they had not been +forced to witness a scene, and overwhelmed her with delicate signs of +this gratitude. Slowly her self-control returned to her. She dared to +look about her observantly, and, behold, Madame Nelson appealed +to her. + +Her French was faultless, her manners equally so, and when the +Californian drew her into the conversation, she practised the delicate +art of modest considerateness to the extent of talking past Mrs. von +Karlstadt in such a way that those who did not know were not +enlightened and those who knew felt their anxiety depart. + +In order to thank her for this alleviation of a fatally painful +situation, Mrs. von Karlstadt occasionally turned perceptibly toward +the singer. For this Madame Nelson was grateful in her turn. Thus +their glances began to meet in friendly fashion, their voices to +cross, the atmosphere became less constrained from minute to minute, +and when the meal was over the astonished assembly had come to the +conclusion that Mrs. von Karlstadt was ignorant of the true state +of affairs. + +The news of this peculiar meeting spread like a conflagration. Her +women friends hastened to congratulate her on her strength of mind; +her male friends praised her loftiness of spirit. She went through the +degradation which she had suffered as though it were a triumph. Only +her husband went about for a time with an evil conscience and a +frowning forehead. + +Months went by. The quietness of summer intervened, but the memory of +that evening rankled in her and blinded her soul. Slowly the thought +arose in her which was really grounded in vanity, but looked, in its +execution, like suffering love--the thought that she would legitimise +her husband's irregularity in the face of society. + +Hence when the season began again she wrote a letter to Madame Nelson +in which she invited her, in a most cordial way, to sing at an +approaching function in her home. She proffered this request, not only +in admiration of the singer's gifts, but also, as she put it, "to +render nugatory a persistent and disagreeable rumour." + +Madame Nelson, to whom this chance of repairing her fair fame was very +welcome, had the indiscretion to assent, and even to accept the +condition of entire secrecy in regard to the affair. + +The chronicler may pass over the painful evening in question with +suitable delicacy of touch. Nothing obvious or crass took place. +Madame Nelson sang three enchanting songs, accompanied by a first-rate +pianist. A friend of the house of whom the hostess had requested this +favour took Madame Nelson to the _buffet_. A number of guileless +individuals surrounded that lady with hopeful adoration. An ecstatic +mood prevailed. The one regrettable feature of the occasion was that +the host had to withdraw--as quietly as possible, of course--on +account of a splitting head-ache. + +Berlin society, which felt wounded in the innermost depth of its +ethics, never forgave the Karlstadts for this evening. I believe that +in certain circles the event is still remembered, although years +have passed. + +Its immediate result, however, was a breach between man and wife. +Mara went to the Riviera, where she remained until spring. + +An apparent reconciliation was then patched up, but its validity was +purely external. + +Socially, too, things readjusted themselves, although people continued +to speak of the Karlstadt house with a smile that asked for +indulgence. + +Mara felt this acutely, and while her husband appeared oftener and +more openly with his mistress, she withdrew into the silence of her +inner chambers. + + * * * * * + +Then she took a lover. + +Or, rather, she was taken by him. + +A lonely evening ... A fire in the chimney ... A friend who came in by +accident ... The same friend who had taken care of Madame Nelson for +her on that memorable evening ... The fall of snow without ... A burst +of confidence ... A sob ... A nestling against the caressing hand ... +It was done ... + +Months passed. She experienced not one hour of intoxication, not one +of that inner absolution which love brings. It was moral slackness and +weariness that made her yield again.... + +Then the consequences appeared. + +Of course, the child could not, must not, be born. And it was not +born. One can imagine the horror of that tragic time: the criminal +flame of sleepless nights, the blood-charged atmosphere of guilty +despair, the moans of agony that had to be throttled behind +closed doors. + +What remained to her was lasting invalidism. + +The way from her bed to an invalid's chair was long and hard. + +Time passed. Improvements came and gave place to lapses in her +condition. Trips to watering-places alternated with visits to +sanatoriums. + +In those places sat the pallid, anaemic women who had been tortured +and ruined by their own or alien guilt. There they sat and engaged in +wretched flirtations with flighty neurasthenics. + +And gradually things went from bad to worse. The physicians shrugged +their friendly shoulders. + +And then it happened that Madame Nelson felt the inner necessity of +running away with a handsome young tutor. She did this less out of +passion than to convince the world--after having thoroughly fleeced +it--of the unselfishness of her feelings. For it was her ambition to +be counted among the great lovers of all time. + + * * * * * + +One evening von Karlstadt entered the sick chamber of his wife, sat +down beside her bed and silently took her hand. She was aware of +everything, and asked with a gentle smile upon her white lips: + +"Be frank with me: did you love her, at least?" + +He laughed shrilly. "What should have made me love this--business +lady?" + +They looked at each other long. Upon her face death had set its seal. +His hair was gray, his self-respect broken, his human worth +squandered.... + +And then, suddenly, they clung to each other, and leaned their +foreheads against each other, and wept. + + + + + +AUTUMN + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was on a sunny afternoon in October. Human masses streamed through +the alleys of the _Tiergarten_. With the desperate passion of an +ageing woman who feels herself about to be deserted, the giant city +received the last caresses of summer. A dotted throng that was not +unlike the chaos of the _Champs Elysees_, filled the broad, gray road +that leads to Charlottenburg. + +Berlin, which cannot compete with any other great European city, as +far as the luxury of vehicular traffic is concerned, seemed to have +sent out to-day all it possessed in that kind. The weather was too +beautiful for closed _coupes_, and hence the comfortable family landau +was most in evidence. Only now and then did an elegant victoria glide +along, or an aristocratic four-in-hand demand the respectful yielding +of the crowd. + +A dog-cart of dark yellow, drawn by a magnificent trotter, attracted +the attention of experts. The noble animal, which seemed to feel the +security of the guiding hand, leaned, snorting, upon its bit. With far +out-reaching hind legs, it flew along, holding its neck moveless, as +became a scion of its race. + +The man who drove was sinewy, tall, about forty, with clear, gray +eyes, sharply cut profile and a close-clipped moustache. In his thin, +brownish cheeks were several deep scars, and between the straight, +narrow brows could be seen two salient furrows. + +His attire--an asphalt-gray, thick-seamed overcoat, a coloured shirt +and red gloves--did not deny the sportsman. His legs, which pressed +against the footboard, were clad in tight, yellow riding boots. + +Many people saluted him. He returned their salutations with that +careless courtesy which belongs to those who know themselves to have +transcended the judgment of men. + +If one of his acquaintances happened to be accompanied by a lady, he +bowed deeply and respectfully, but without giving the ladies in +question a single glance. + +People looked after him and mentioned his name: Baron von Stueckrath. + +Ah, that fellow ... + +And they looked around once more. + +At the square of the _Great Star_ he turned to the left, drove along +the river, passed the well-known resort called simply _The Tents_, +and stopped not far from the building of the general staff of the army +and drew up before a large distinguished house with a fenced front +garden and cast-iron gate to the driveway. + +He threw the reins to the groom, who sat statuesquely behind him, and +said: "Drive home." + +Jumping from the cart, he observed the handle of the scraper sticking +in the top of one of his boots. He drew it out, threw it on the seat, +and entered the house. + +The janitor, an old acquaintance, greeted him with the servile +intimacy of the tip-expecting tribe. + +On the second floor he stopped and pulled the bell whose glass knob +glittered above a neat brass plate. + +"Ludovika Kraissl," was engraved upon it. + +A maid, clad with prim propriety in a white apron and white lace cap, +opened the door. + +He entered and handed her his hat. + +"Is Madame at home?" + +"No, sir." + +He looked at her through half-closed lids, and observed how her +milk-white little madonna's face flushed to the roots of her +blonde hair. + +"Where did she go?" + +"Madame meant to go to the dressmaker," the girl stuttered, "and to +make some purchases." She avoided his eyes. She had been in service +only three months and had not yet perfected herself in lying. + +He whistled a tune between his set teeth and entered the drawing-room. + +A penetrating perfume streamed forth. + +"Open the window, Meta." + +She passed noiselessly through the room and executed his command. + +Frowning, he looked about him. The empty pomp of the light woman +offended his taste. The creature who lived here had a gift for filling +every corner with banal and tasteless trivialities. + +When he had turned over the flat to her it had been a charming little +place, full of delicate tints and the simple lines of Louis Seize +furniture. In a few years she had made a junk shop of it. + +"Would you care for tea, sir, or anything else?" the girl asked. + +"No, thank you. Pull off my boots, Meta. I'll change my dress and then +go out again." + +Modestly, almost humbly, she bowed before him and set his spurred foot +gently on her lap. Then she loosened the top straps. He let his glance +rest, well pleased, upon her smooth, silvery blonde hair. + +How would it work if he sent his mistress packing and installed this +girl in her place? + +But he immediately abandoned the thought. He had seen the thing done +by some of his friends. In a single year the chastest and most modest +servant girl was so thoroughly corrupted that she had to be driven +into the streets. + +"We men seem to emit a pestilential air," he reflected, "that corrupts +every woman." + +"Or at least men of my kind," he added carefully. + +"Have you any other wishes, sir?" asked the girl, daintily wiping her +hands on her apron. + +"No, thank you." + +She turned to the door. + +"One thing more, Meta. When did Madame say she would be back?" + +Her face was again mantled with blood. + +"She didn't say anything definite. I was to make her excuses. She +intended to return home by evening, at all events." + +He nodded and the girl went with a sigh of relief, gently closing the +door behind her. + +He continued to whistle, and looked up at a hanging lamp, which +defined itself against the window niche by means of a wreath of gay +artificial flowers. + +In this hanging lamp, which hung there unnoticed and unreachable from +the floor, he had, a year ago, quite by accident, discovered a store +of love letters. His mistress had concealed them there since she +evidently did not even consider the secret drawer of her desk a +sufficiently safe repository. + +He had carefully kept the secret of the lamp to himself, and had only +fed his grim humour from time to time by observing the changes of her +heart by means of added missives. In this way he had been able to +observe the number of his excellent friends with whom she +deceived him. + +Thus his contempt for mankind assumed monstrous proportions, but this +contempt was the one emotional luxury which his egoism was still +capable of. + +He grasped a chair and seemed, for a moment about to mount to the lamp +to inspect her latest history. But he let his hand fall. After all, it +was indifferent with whom she was unfaithful to-day.... + +And he was tired. A bad day's work lay behind him. A three-year-old +full-blooded horse, recently imported from Hull, had proven itself +abnormally sensitive and had brought him to the verge of despair by +its fearfulness and its moods. He had exercised it for hours, and had +only succeeded in making the animal more nervous than before. Great +sums were at stake if the fault should prove constitutional and +not curable. + +He felt the impulse to share his worries with some one, but he knew of +no one. From the point of view of Miss Ludi's naive selfishness, it +was simply his duty to be successful. She didn't care for the +troublesome details. At his club, again, each one was warily guarding +his own interests. Hence it was necessary there to speak carefully, +since an inadvertent expression might affect general opinion. + +He almost felt impelled to call in the maid and speak to her of his +worries. + +Then his own softness annoyed him. + +It was his wont to pass through life in lordly isolation and to +astonish the world by his successes. That was all he needed. + +Yawning he stretched himself out on the _chaise longue_. Time dragged. + +Three hours would pass until Ludi's probable return. He was so +accustomed to the woman's society that he almost longed for her. Her +idle chatter helped him. Her little tricks refreshed him. But the most +important point was this: she was no trouble. He could caress her or +beat her, call to her and drive her from him like a little dog. He +could let her feel the full measure of his contempt, and she would not +move a muscle. She was used to nothing else. + +He passed two or three hours daily in her company, for time had to be +killed somehow. Sometimes, too, he took her to the circus or the +theatre. He had long broken with the families of his acquaintance and +could appear in public with light women. + +And yet he felt a sharp revulsion at the atmosphere that surrounded +him. A strange discomfort invaded his soul in her presence. He didn't +feel degraded. He knew her to be a harlot. But that was what he +wanted. None but such an one would permit herself to be so treated. It +was rather a disguised discouragement that held him captive. + +Was life to pass thus unto the very end? Was life worth living, if it +offered a favourite of fortune, a master of his will and of his +actions, nothing better than this? + +"Surely I have the spleen," he said to himself, sprang up, and went +into the next room to change his clothes. He had a wardrobe in Ludi's +dressing room in order to be able to go out from here in the evening +unrestrainedly. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was near four o'clock. + +The sun laughed through the window. Its light was deep purple, +changing gradually to violet. Masses of leaves, red as rust, gleamed +over from the _Tiergarten_. The figure of Victory upon the triumphal +column towered toward heaven like a mighty flame. + +He felt an impulse to wander through the alleys of the park idly and +aimlessly, at most to give a coin to a begging child. + +He left the house and went past the Moltke monument and the winding +ways that lead to the Charlottenburg road. + +The ground exhaled the sweetish odour of decaying plants. Rustling +heaps of leaves, which the breezes of noon had swept together, flew +apart under his tread. The westering sun threw red splotches of light +on the faint green of the tree trunks that exuded their moisture in +long streaks. + +Here it was lonely. Only beyond the great road, whose many-coloured +pageant passed by him like a kinematograph, did he hear again in the +alleys the sounds of children's voices, song and laughter. + +In the neighbourhood of the _Rousseau Island_ he met a gentleman whom +he knew and who had been a friend of his youth. Stout of form, his +round face surrounded by a close-clipped beard, he wandered along, +leading two little girls in red, while a boy in a blue sailor suit +rode ahead, herald-like, on his father's walking-stick. + +The two men bowed to each other coolly, but without ill-will. They +were simply estranged. The busy servant of the state and father of a +family was scarcely to be found in those circles were the daily work +consists in riding and betting and gambling. + +Stueckrath sat down on a bench and gazed after the group. The little +red frocks gleamed through the bushes, and Papa's admonishing and +restraining voice was to be heard above the noise of the boy who made +a trumpet of his hollow hand. + +"Is that the way happiness looks?" he asked himself. "Can a man of +energy and action find satisfaction in these banal domesticities?" + +And strangely enough, these fathers of families, men who serve the +state and society, who occupy high offices, make important inventions +and write good books--these men have red cheeks and laughing eyes. +They do not look as though the burden which they carry squeezes the +breath of life out of them. They get ahead, in spite of the childish +hands that cling to their coats, in spite of the trivialities with +which they pass their hours of leisure. + +An indeterminate feeling of envy bored into his soul. He fought it +down and went on, right into the throng that filled the footpaths of +the _Tiergarten_. Groups of ladies from the west end went by him in +rustling gowns of black. He did not know them and did not wish to +know them. + +Here, too, he recognized fewer of the men. The financiers who have +made this quarter their own appear but rarely at the races. + +Accompanying carriages kept pace with the promenaders in order to +explain and excuse their unusual exertion. For in this world the +continued absence of one's carriage may well shake one's credit. + +The trumpeting motor-cars whirred by with gleaming brasses. Of the +beautiful women in them, little could be seen in the swift gleams. It +was the haste of a new age that does not even find time to display +its vanity. + +Upon the windows of the villas and palaces opposite lay the iridescent +glow of the evening sun. The facades took on purple colours, and the +decaying masses of vines that weighed heavily upon the fences seemed +to glow and shine from within with the very phosphorescence of decay. + +Flooded by this light, a slender, abnormally tall girl came into +Stueckrath's field of vision. She led by the arm an aged lady, who +hobbled with difficulty along the pebbly path. A closed carriage with +escutcheon and coronet followed the two slowly. + +He stopped short. An involuntary movement had passed through his body, +an impulse to turn off into one of the side paths. But he conquered +himself at once, and looked straight at the approaching ladies. + +Like a mere line of blackness, thin of limb and waist, attired with +nun-like austerity in garments that hung as if withering upon her, she +stood against the background of autumnal splendour. + +Now she recognised him, too. A sudden redness that at once gave way to +lifeless pallor flashed across her delicate, stern face. + +They looked straight into each other's eyes. + +He bowed deeply. She smiled with an effort at indifference. + +"And so she is faded, too," he thought. To be sure, her face still +bore the stamp of a simple and severe beauty, but time and grief had +dealt ungently with it. The lips were pale and anaemic, two or three +folds, sharp as if made with a knife, surrounded them. About the eyes, +whose soft and lambent light of other days had turned into a hard and +troubled sharpness, spread concentric rings, united by a net-work of +veins and wrinkles. + +He stood still, lost in thought, and looked after her. + +She still trod the earth like a queen, but her outline was detestable. + +Only hopelessness bears and attires itself thus. + +He calculated. She must be thirty-six. Thirteen years ago he had known +her and--loved her? Perhaps.... + +At least he had left her the evening before their formal betrothal was +to take place because her father had dared to remark upon his way +of life. + +He loved his personal liberty more than his beautiful and wealthy +betrothed who clung to him with every fibre of her delicate and noble +soul. One word from her, had it been but a word of farewell, would +have recalled him. That word remained unspoken. + +Thus her life's happiness had been wrecked. Perhaps his, too. What did +it matter? + +Since then he had nothing but contempt for the daughters of good +families. Other women were less exacting; they did not attempt to +circumscribe his freedom. + +He gazed after her long. Now groups of other pedestrians intervened; +now her form reappeared sharp and narrow against the trees. From time +to time she stooped lovingly toward the old lady, who, as is the wont +of aged people, trod eagerly and fearfully. + +This fragile heap of bones, with the dull eyes and the sharp voice--he +remembered the voice well: it had had part in his decision. This +strange, unsympathetic, suspicious old woman, he would have had to +call "Mother." + +What madness! What hypocrisy! + +And yet his hunger for happiness, which had not yet died, reminded him +of all that might have been. + +A sea of warm, tender and unselfish love would have flooded him and +fructified and vivified the desert of his soul. And instead of +becoming withered and embittered, she would have blossomed at his side +more richly from day to day. + +Now it was too late. A long, thin, wretched little creature--she went +her way and was soon lost in the distance. + +But there clung to his soul the yearning for a woman--one who had more +of womanliness than its name and its body, more than the harlot whom +he kept because he was too slothful to drive her from him. + +He sought the depths of his memory. His life had been rich in gallant +adventures. Many a full-blooded young woman had thrown herself at him, +and had again vanished from his life under the compulsion of his +growing coldness. + +He loved his liberty. Even an unlawful relation felt like a fetter so +soon as it demanded any sacrifice of time or interests. Also, he did +not like to give less than he received. For, since the passing of his +unscrupulous youth, he had not cared to receive the gift of a human +destiny only to throw it aside as his whim demanded. + +And therefore his life had grown quiet during the last few years. + +He thought of one of his last loves ... the very last ... and smiled. + +The image of a delicately plump brunette little woman, with dreamy +eyes and delicious little curls around her ears, rose up before him. +She dwelt in his memory as she had seemed to him: modest, soulful, all +ecstatic yielding and charming simple-heartedness. + +She did not belong to society. He had met her at a dinner given by a +financial magnate. She was the wife of an upper clerk who was well +respected in the business world. With adoring curiosity, she peeped +into the great strange world, whose doors opened to her for the +first time. + +He took her to the table, was vastly entertained by the lack of +sophistication with which she received all these new impressions, and +smilingly accepted the undisguised adoration with which she regarded +him in his character of a famous horseman and rake. + +He flirted with her a bit and that turned her head completely. In +lonely dreams her yearning for elegant and phantastic sin had grown to +enormity. She was now so wholly and irresistibly intoxicated that he +received next morning a deliciously scribbled note in which she begged +him for a secret meeting--somewhere in the neighbourhood of the +_Arkona Place_ or _Weinmeisterstrasse_, regions as unknown to him as +the North Cape or Yokohama. + +Two or three meetings followed. She appeared, modest, anxious and in +love, a bunch of violets for his button-hole in her hand, and some +surprise for her husband in her pocket. + +Then the affair began to bore him and he refused an appointment. + +One evening, during the last days of November, she appeared, thickly +veiled, in his dwelling, and sank sobbing upon his breast. She could +not live without seeing him; she was half crazed with longing; he was +to do with her what he would. He consoled her, warmed her, and kissed +the melting snow from her hair. But when in his joy at what he +considered the full possession of a jewel his tenderness went beyond +hers, her conscience smote her. She was an honest woman. Horror and +shame would drive her into her grave if she went hence an adulteress. +He must have pity on her and be content with her pure adoration. + +He had the requisite pity, dismissed her with a paternal kiss upon her +forehead, but at the same time ordered his servant to admit her +no more. + +Then came two or three letters. In her agony over the thought of +losing him, she was willing to break down the last reserve. But he did +not answer the letters. + +At the same time the thought came to him of going up the Nile in a +dahabiyeh. He was bored and had a cold. + +On the evening of his departure he found her waiting in his rooms. + +"What do you want?" + +"Take me along." + +"How do you know?" + +"Take me along." + +She said nothing else. + +The necessity of comforting her was clear. A thoroughgoing farewell +was celebrated, with the understanding that it was a farewell forever. + +The pact had been kept. After his return and for two years more she +had given no sign of life. He now thought of this woman. He felt a +poignant longing for the ripe sweetness of her oval face, the veiled +depth of her voice. He desired once more to be embraced by her firm +arms, to be kissed by her mad, hesitating lips. + +Why had he dropped her? How could he have abandoned her so rudely? + +The thought came into his head of looking her up now, in this very +hour. + +He had a dim recollection of the whereabouts of her dwelling. He could +soon ascertain its exact situation. + +Then again the problems of his racing stable came into his head. The +thought of "Maidenhood," the newly purchased horse, worried him. He +had staked much upon one throw. If he lost, it would take time to +repair the damage. + +Suddenly he found himself in a tobacconist's shop, looking for her +name in the directory. _Friedrich-Wilhelm Strasse_ was the address. +Quite near, as he had surmised. + +He was not at loss for an excuse. Her husband must still be in his +office at this hour. He would not be asked for any very strict +accounting for his action. At worst there was an approaching riding +festival, for which he could request her cooperation. + +Perhaps she had forgotten him and would revenge herself for her +humiliation. Perhaps she would be insulted and not even receive him. +At best he must count upon coldness, bitter truths and that appearance +of hatred which injured love assumes. + +What did it matter? She was a woman, after all. + +The vestibule of the house was supported by pillars; its walls were +ornately stuccoed; the floor was covered with imitation oriental rugs. +It was the rented luxury with which the better middle-class loves to +surround itself. + +He ascended three flights of stairs. + +An elderly servant in a blue apron regarded the stranger suspiciously. + +He asked for her mistress. + +She would see. Holding his card gingerly, she disappeared. + +Now _he_ would see.... + +Then, as he bent forward, listening, he heard through the open door a +cry--not of horrified surprise, but of triumph and jubilation, such a +cry of sudden joy as only a long and hopeless and unrestrainable +yearning can send forth. + +He thought he had heard wrong, but the smiling face of the returning +servant reassured him. + +He was to be made welcome. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +He entered. With outstretched hands, tears in her eyes, her face +a-quiver with a vain attempt at equanimity--thus she came forward +to meet him. + +"There you are ... there you are ... you...." + +Overwhelmed and put to shame by her forgiveness and her happiness, he +stood before her in silence. + +What could he have said to her that would not have sounded either +coarse or trivial? + +And she demanded neither explanation nor excuse. + +He was here--that was enough for her. + +As he let his glance rest upon her, he confessed that his mental image +of her fell short of the present reality. + +She had grown in soul and stature. Her features bore signs of power +and restraint, and of a strong inner tension. Her eyes sought him with +a steady light; in her bosom battled the pent-up joy. + +She asked him to be seated. "In that corner," she said, and led him to +a tiny sofa covered with glittering, light-green silk, above which +hung a withered palm-leaf fan. + +"I have sat there so often," she went on, "so often, and have thought +of you, always--always. You'll drink tea, won't you?" + +He was about to refuse, but she interrupted him. + +"Oh, but you must, you must. You can't refuse! It has been my dream +all this time to drink tea with you here just once--just once. To +serve you on this little table and hand you the basket with cakes! Do +you see this little lacquer table, with the lovely birds of inlaid +mother-of-pearl? I had that given to me last Christmas for the +especial purpose of serving you tea on it. For I said to myself: 'He +is accustomed to the highest elegance.' And you are here and are going +to refuse? No, no, that's impossible. I couldn't bear that." + +And she flew to the door and called out her orders to the servant. + +He regarded her in happy astonishment. In all her movements there was +a rhythm of unconscious loveliness, such as he had rarely seen in any +woman. With simple, unconscious elegance, her dress flowed about her +taller figure, whose severe lines were softened by the womanly curves +of her limbs. And all that belonged to him. + +He could command this radiant young body and this radiant young soul. +All that was one hunger to be possessed by him. + +"Bind her to yourself," cried his soul, "and build yourself a new +happiness!" + +Then she returned. She stopped a few paces from him, folded her hands +under her chin, gazed at him wide-eyed and whispered: "There he is! +There he is!" + +He grew uncomfortable under this expense of passion. + +"I should wager that I sit here with a foolish face," he thought. + +"But now I'm going to be sensible," she went on, sitting down on a low +stool that stood next to the sofa. "And while the tea is steeping you +must tell me how things have gone with you all this long time. For it +is a very long time since ... Ah, a long time...." + +It seemed to him that there was a reproach behind these words. He gave +but a dry answer to her question, but threw the more warmth into his +inquiries concerning her life. + +She laughed and waved her hand. + +"Oh, I!" she cried. "I have fared admirably. Why should I not? Life +makes me as happy as though I were a child. Oh, I can always be +happy.... That's characteristic of me. Nearly every day brings +something new and usually something delightful.... And since I've been +in love with you.... You mustn't take that for a banal declaration of +passion, dear friend.... Just imagine you are merely my confidant, and +that I'm telling you of my distant lover who takes little notice of a +foolish woman like myself. But then, that doesn't matter so long as I +know that he is alive and can fear and pray for him; so long as the +same morning sun shines on us both. Why, do you know, it's a most +delicious feeling, when the morning is fair and the sun golden and one +may stand at the window and say: 'Thank God, it is a beautiful day +for him.'" + +He passed his hand over his forehead. + +"It isn't possible," he thought. "Such things don't exist in this +world." + +And she went on, not thinking that perhaps he, too, would want to +speak. + +"I don't know whether many people have the good fortune to be as happy +as I. But I am, thank God. And do you know, the best part of it all +and the sunniest, I owe to you. For instance: Summer before last we +went to Heligoland, last summer to Schwarzburg.... Do you know it? +Isn't it beautiful? Well, for instance: I wake up; I open my eyes to +the dawn. I get up softly, so as not to disturb my husband, and go on +my bare feet to the window. Without, the wooded mountains lie dark and +peaceful. There is a peace over it all that draws one's tears ... it +is so beautiful ... and behind, on the horizon, there shines a broad +path of gold. And the fir-trees upon the highest peaks are sharply +defined against the gold, like little men with many outstretched arms. +And already the early piping of a few birds is heard. And I fold my +hands and think: I wonder where he is.... And if he is asleep, has he +fair dreams? Ah, if he were here and could see all this loveliness. +And I think of _him_ with such impassioned intensity that it is not +hard to believe him here and able to see it all. And at last a chill +comes up, for it is always cool in the mountains, as you know.... And +then one slips back into bed, and is annoyed to think that one must +sleep four hours more instead of being up and thinking of him. And +when one wakes up for a second time, the sun throws its golden light +into the windows, and the breakfast table is set on the balcony. And +one's husband has been up quite a while, but waits patiently. And his +dear, peaceful face is seen through the glass door. At such moments +one's heart expands in gratitude to God who has made life so beautiful +and one can hardly bear one's own happiness--and--there is the tea." + +The elderly maid came in with a salver, which she placed on the piano, +in order to set the little table properly. A beautiful napkin of +damask silk lay ready. The lady of the house scolded jestingly. It +would injure the polish of the piano, and what was her guest to think +of such shiftlessness. + +The maid went out. + +She took up the tea-kettle, and asked in a voice full of bliss. + +"Strong or weak, dear master?" + +"Strong, please." + +"One or two lumps of sugar?" + +"Two lumps, please." + +She passed him the cup with a certain solemnity. + +"So this is the great moment, the pinnacle of all happiness as I have +dreamed of it! Now, tell me yourself: Am I not to be envied? Whatever +I wish is fulfilled. And, do you know, last year in Heligoland I had a +curious experience. We capsised by the dunes and I fell into the +water. As I lost consciousness, I thought that you were there and were +saving me. Later when I lay on the beach, I saw, of course, that it +had been only a stupid old fisherman. But the feeling was so wonderful +while it lasted that I almost felt like jumping into the water again. +Speaking of water, do you take rum in your tea?" + +He shook his head. Her chatter, which at first had enraptured him, +began to fill him with sadness. He did not know how to respond. His +youthfulness and flexibility of mind had passed from him long ago: he +had long lost any inner cheerfulness. + +And while she continued to chat, his thoughts wandered, like a horse, +on their accustomed path on the road of his daily worries. He thought +of an unsatisfactory jockey, of the nervous horse. + +What was this woman to him, after all? + +"By the way," he heard her say, "I wanted to ask you whether +'Maidenhood' has arrived?" + +He sat up sharply and stared at her. Surely he had heard wrong. + +"What do you know about 'Maidenhood'?" + +"But, my dear friend, do you suppose I haven't heard of your beautiful +horse, by 'Blue Devil' out of 'Nina'? Now, do you see? I believe I +know the grandparents, too. Anyhow, you are to be congratulated on +your purchase. The English trackmen are bursting with envy. To judge +by that, you ought to have an immense success." + +"But, for heaven's sake, how do you know all this?" + +"Dear me, didn't your purchase appear in all the sporting papers?" + +"Do you read those papers?" + +"Surely. You see, here is the last number of the _Spur_, and yonder is +the bound copy of the _German Sporting News_." + +"I see; but to what purpose?" + +"Oh, I'm a sporting lady, dear master. I look upon the world of +horses--is that the right expression?--with benevolent interest. I +hope that isn't forbidden?" + +"But you never told me a word about that before!" + +She blushed a little and cast her eyes down. + +"Oh, before, before.... That interest didn't come until later." + +He understood and dared not understand. + +"Don't look at me so," she besought him; there's nothing very +remarkable about it. I just said to myself: "Well, if he doesn't want +you, at least you can share his life from afar. That isn't immodest, +is it? And then the race meets were the only occasions on which I +could see you from afar. And whenever you yourself rode--oh, how my +heart beat--fit to burst. And when you won, oh, how proud I was! I +could have cried out my secret for all the world to hear. And my poor +husband's arm was always black and blue. I pinched him first in my +anxiety and then in my joy." + +"So your husband happily shares your enthusiasm?" + +"Oh, at first he wasn't very willing. But then, he is so good, so +good. And as I couldn't go to the races alone, why he just had to go +with me! And in the end he has become as great an enthusiast as I am. +We can sit together for hours and discuss the tips. And he just +admires you so--almost more than I. Oh, how happy he'd be to meet you +here. You mustn't refuse him that pleasure. And now you're laughing at +me. Shame on you!" + +"I give you my word that nothing--" + +"Oh, but you smiled. I saw you smile." + +"Perhaps. But assuredly with no evil intention. And now you'll permit +me to ask a serious question, won't you?" + +"But surely!" + +"Do you love your husband?" + +"Why, of course I love him. You don't know him, or you wouldn't ask. +How could I help it? We're like two children together. And I don't +mean anything silly. We're like that in hours of grief, too. Sometimes +when I look at him in his sleep--the kind, careworn forehead, the +silent serious mouth--and when I think how faithfully and carefully he +guides me, how his one dreaming and waking thought is for my +happiness--why, then I kneel down and kiss his hands till he wakes up. +Once he thought it was our little dog, and murmured 'Shoo, shoo!' Oh, +how we laughed! And if you imagine that such a state of affairs can't +be reconciled with my feeling for you, why, then you're quite wrong. +_That_ is upon an entirely different plane." + +"And your life is happy?" + +"Perfectly, perfectly." + +Radiantly she folded her hands. + +She did not suspect her position on the fearful edge of an abyss. She +had not yet realised what his coming meant, nor how defenceless +she was. + +He had but to stretch out his arms and she would fly to him, ready to +sacrifice her fate to his mood. And this time there would be no +returning to that well-ordered content. + +A dull feeling of responsibility arose in him and paralysed his will. +Here was all that he needed in order to conquer a few years of new +freshness and joy for the arid desert of his life. Here was the spring +of life for which he was athirst. And he had not the courage to touch +it with his lips. + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +A silence ensued in which their mood threatened to darken and grow +turbid. + +Then he pulled himself together. + +"You don't ask me why I came, dear friend." + +She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. + +"A moment's impulse--or loneliness. That's all." + +"And a bit of remorse, don't you think so?" + +"Remorse? For what? You have nothing with which to reproach yourself. +Was not our agreement made to be kept?" + +"And yet I couldn't wholly avoid the feeling as if my unbroken silence +must have left a sting in your soul which would embitter your +memory of me." + +Thoughtfully she stirred her tea. + +"No," she said at last, "I'm not so foolish. The memory of you is a +sacred one. If that were not so, how could I have gone on living? That +time, to be sure, I wanted to take my life. I had determined on that +before I came to you. For that one can leave the man with whom.... I +never thought that possible.... But one learns a good deal--a good +deal.... And now I'll tell you how it came to pass that I didn't take +my life that night. When everything was over, and I stood in the +street before your house, I said to myself: 'Now the river is all that +is left.' In spite of rain and storm, I took an open cab and drove out +to the _Tiergarten_. Wasn't the weather horrible! At the _Great Star_ +I left the cab and ran about in the muddy ways, weeping, weeping. I +was blind with tears, and lost my way. I said to myself that I would +die at six. There were still four minutes left. I asked a policeman +the way to _Bellevue_, for I did remember that the river flows hard +behind the castle. The policeman said: 'There it is. The hour is +striking in the tower now.' And when I heard the clock strike, the +thought came to me: 'Now my husband is coming home, tired and hungry, +and I'm not there. If at least he wouldn't let his dinner get cold. +But of course he will wait. He'd rather starve than eat without me. +And he'll be frightened more and more as the hours pass. Then he'll +run to the police. And next morning he'll be summoned by telegram to +the morgue. There he'll break down helplessly and hopelessly and I +won't be able to console him.' And when I saw that scene in my mind, I +called out: 'Cab! cab!' But there was no cab. So I ran back to the +_Great Star_, and jumped into the street-car, and rode home and rushed +into his arms and cried my fill." + + +"And had your husband no questions to ask? Did he entertain no +suspicion?" + +"Oh, no, he knows me, I am taken that way sometimes. If anything moves +or delights me deeply--a lovely child on the street--you see, I +haven't any--or some glorious music, or sometimes only the park in +spring and some white statue in the midst of the greenery. Oh, +sometimes I seem to feel my very soul melt, and then he lays his cool, +firm hand on my forehead and I am healed." + +"And were you healed on that occasion, too?" + +"Yes. I was calmed at once. 'Here,' I said to myself, 'is this dear, +good man, to whom you can be kind. And as far as the other is +concerned, why it was mere mad egoism to hope to have a share in his +life. For to give love means, after all, to demand love. And what can +a poor, supersensitive thing like you mean to him? He has others. He +need but stretch forth his hand, and the hearts of countesses and +princesses are his!'" + +"Dear God," he thought, and saw the image of the purchasable harlot, +who was supposed to satisfy his heart's needs. + +But she chatted on, and bit by bit built up for him the image of him +which she had cherished during these two years. All the heroes of +Byron, Poushkine, Spielhagen and Scott melted into one glittering +figure. There was no splendour of earth with which her generous +imagination had not dowered him. + +He listened with a melancholy smile, and thought: "Thank God, she +doesn't know me. If I didn't take a bit of pleasure in my stable, the +contrast would be too terrible to contemplate." + +And there was nothing forward, nothing immodest, in this joyous +enthusiasm. It was, in fact, as if he were a mere confidant, and she +were singing a hymn in praise of her beloved. + +And thus she spared him any feeling of shame. + +But what was to happen now? + +It went without saying that this visit must have consequences of some +sort. It was her right to demand that he do not, for a second time, +take her up and then fling her aside at the convenience of a +given hour. + +Almost timidly he asked after her thoughts of the future. + +"Let's not speak of it. You won't come back, anyhow." + +"How can you think...." + +"Oh, no, you won't come back. And what is there here for you? Do you +want to be adored by me? You spoiled gentlemen soon tire of that sort +of thing.... Or would you like to converse with my husband? That +wouldn't amuse you. He's a very silent man and his reserve thaws only +when he is alone with me.... But it doesn't matter.... You have been +here. And the memory of this hour will always be dear and precious to +me. Now, I have something more in which my soul can take pleasure." + +A muffled pain stirred in him. He felt impelled to throw himself at +her feet and bury his head in her lap. But he respected the majesty of +her happiness. + +"And if I myself desired...." + +That was all he said; all he dared to say. The sudden glory in her +face commanded his silence. Under the prudence which his long +experience dictated, his mood grew calmer. + +But she had understood him. + +In silent blessedness, she leaned her head against the wall. Then she +whispered, with closed eyes: "It is well that you said no more. I +might grow bold and revive hopes that are dead. But if you...." + +She raised her eyes to his. A complete surrender to his will lay in +her glance. + +Then she raised her head with a listening gesture. + +"My husband," she said, after she had fought down a slight involuntary +fright, and said it with sincere joy. + +Three glowing fingers barely touched his. Then she hastened to the +door. + +"Guess who is here," she called out; "guess!" + +On the threshold appeared a sturdy man of middle size and middle age. +His round, blonde beard came to a grayish point beneath the chin. His +thin cheeks were yellow, but with no unhealthful hue. His quiet, +friendly eyes gleamed behind glasses that sat a trifle too far down +his nose, so that in speaking his head was slightly thrown back and +his lids drawn. + +With quiet astonishment he regarded the elegant stranger. Coming +nearer, however, he recognised him at once in spite of the twilight, +and, a little confused with pleasure, stretched out his hand. + +Upon his tired, peaceful features, there was no sign of any sense of +strangeness, any desire for an explanation. + +Stueckrath realized that toward so simple a nature craft would have +been out of place, and simply declared that he had desired to renew an +acquaintance which he had always remembered with much pleasure. + +"I don't want to speak of myself, Baron," the man replied, "but you +probably scarcely realise what pleasure you are giving my wife." And +he nodded down at her who stood beside him, apparently unconcerned +except for her wifely joy. + +A few friendly words were exchanged. Further speech was really +superfluous, since the man's unassailable innocence demanded no +caution. But Stueckrath was too much pleased with him to let him feel +his insignificance by an immediate departure. + +Hence he sat a little longer, told of his latest purchases, and was +shamed by the satisfaction with which the man rehearsed the history of +his stable. + +He did not neglect the courtesy of asking them both to call on him, +and took his leave, accompanied by the couple to the door. He could +not decide which of the two pressed his hand more warmly. + +When in the darkness of the lower hall he looked upward, he saw two +faces which gazed after him with genuine feeling. + + * * * * * + +Out amid the common noises of the street he had the feeling as though +he had returned from some far island of alien seas into the wonted +current of life. + +He shuddered at the thought of what lay before him. + +Then he went toward the _Tiergarten_. A red afterglow eddied amid the +trees. In the sky gleamed a harmony of delicate blue tints, shading +into green. Great white clouds towered above, but rested upon the +redness of the sunset. + +The human stream flooded as always between the flickering, starry +street-lamps of the _Tiergartenstrasse_. Each man and woman sought to +wrest a last hour of radiance from the dying day. + +Dreaming, estranged, Stueckrath made his way through the crowd, and +hurriedly sought a lonely footpath that disappeared in the darkness of +the foliage. + +Again for a moment the thought seared him: "Take her and rebuild the +structure of your life." + +But when he sought to hold the thought and the accompanying emotion, +it was gone. Nothing remained but a flat after taste--the dregs of a +weary intoxication. + +The withered leaves rustled beneath his tread. Beside the path +glimmered the leaf-flecked surface of a pool. + +"It would be a crime, to be sure," he said to himself, "to shatter the +peace of those two poor souls. But, after all, life is made up of such +crimes. The life of one is the other's death; one's happiness the +other's wretchedness. If only I could be sure that some happiness +would result, that the sacrifice of their idyl would bring +some profit." + +But he had too often had the discouraging and disappointing experience +that he had become incapable of any strong and enduring emotion. What +had he to offer that woman, who, in a mixture of passion, and naive +unmorality of soul, had thrown herself at his breast? The shallow +dregs of a draught, a power to love that had been wasted in sensual +trifling--emptiness, weariness, a longing for sensation and a longing +for repose. That was all the gift he could bring her. + +And how soon would he be satiated! + +Any sign of remorse or of fear in her would suffice to make her a +burden, even a hated burden! + +"Be her good angel," he said to himself, "and let her be." He whistled +and the sound was echoed by the trees. + +He sought a bench on which to sit down, and lit a cigarette. As the +match flared up, he became conscious of the fact that night +had fallen. + +A great quietude rested upon the dying forest. Like the strains of a +beautifully perishing harmony the sound of the world's distant strife +floated into this solitude. + +Attentively Stueckrath observed the little point of glowing fire in +his hand, from which eddied upward a wreath of fragrant smoke. + +"Thank God," he said, "that at least remains--one's cigarette." + +Then he arose and wandered thoughtfully onward. + +Without knowing how he had come there, he found himself suddenly in +front of his mistress's dwelling. + +Light shimmered in her windows--the raspberry coloured light of red +curtains which loose women delight in. + +"Pah!" he said and shuddered. + +But, after all, up there a supper table was set for him; there was +laughter and society, warmth and a pair of slippers. + +He opened the gate. + +A chill wind rattled in the twigs of the trees and blew the dead +leaves about in conical whirls. They fluttered along like wandering +shadows, only to end in some puddle ... + +Autumn ... + + + + + +MERRY FOLK + + +The Christmas tree bent heavily forward. The side which was turned to +the wall had been hard to reach, and had hence not been adorned richly +enough to keep the equilibrium of the tree against the weighty twigs +of the front. + +Papa noted this and scolded. "What would Mamma say if she saw that? +You know, Brigitta, that Mamma doesn't love carelessness. If the tree +falls over, think how ashamed we shall be." + +Brigitta flushed fiery red. She clambered up the ladder once more, +stretched her arms forth as far as possible, and hung on the other +side of the tree all that she could gather. There _had_ been very +little there. But then one couldn't see.... + +And now the lights could be lit. + +"Now we will look through the presents," said Papa. "Which is Mamma's +plate?" + +Brigitta showed it to him. + +This time he was satisfied. "It's a good thing that you've put so much +marchpane on it," he said. "You know she always loves to have +something to give away." Then lie inspected the polished safety lock +that lay next to the plate and caressed the hard leaves of the potted +palm that shadowed Mamma's place at the Christmas table. + +"You have painted the flower vase for her?" he asked. + +Brigitta nodded. + +"It is exclusively for roses," she said, "and the colours are burned +in and will stand any kind of weather." + +"What the boys have made for Mamma they can bring her themselves. Have +you put down the presents from her?" + +Surely she had done so. For Fritz, there was a fishing-net and a +ten-bladed knife; for Arthur a turning lathe with foot-power, and in +addition a tall toy ship with a golden-haired nymph as figurehead. + +"The mermaid will make an impression," said Papa and laughed. + +There was something else which Brigitta had on her conscience. She +stuck her firm little hands under her apron, which fell straight down +over her flat little chest, and tripped up and down on her heels. + +"I may as well betray the secret," she said. "Mamma has something for +you, too." Papa was all ear. "What is it?" he asked, and looked over +his place at the table, where nothing was noticeable in addition to +Brigitta's fancy work. + +Brigitta ran to the piano and pulled forth from under it a paper +wrapped box, about two feet in height, which seemed singularly light +for its size. + +When the paper wrappings had fallen aside, a wooden cage appeared, in +which sat a stuffed bird that glittered with all the colours of the +rainbow. His plumage looked as though the blue of the sky and the gold +of the sun had been caught in it. + +"A roller!" Papa cried, clapping his hands, and something like joy +twitched about his mouth. "And she gives me this rare specimen?" + +"Yes," said Brigitta, "it was found last autumn in the throstle +springe. The manager kept it for me until now. And because it is so +beautiful, and, one might really say, a kind of bird of paradise, +therefore Mamma gives it to you." + +Papa stroked her blonde hair and again her face flushed. + +"So; and now we'll call the boys," he said. + +"First let me put away my apron," she cried, loosened the pin and +threw the ugly black thing under the piano where the cage had been +before. Now she stood there in her white communion dress, with its +blue ribands, and made a charming little grimace. + +"You have done quite right," said Papa. "Mamma does not like dark +colours. Everything about her is to be bright and gay." + +Now the boys were permitted to come in. + +They held their beautifully written Christmas poems carefully in their +hands and rubbed their sides timidly against the door-posts. + +"Come, be cheerful," said Papa. "Do you think your heads will be torn +off to-day?" + +And then he took them both into his arms and squeezed them a little so +that Arthur's poetry was crushed right down the middle. + +That was a misfortune, to be sure. But Papa consoled the boy, saying +that he would be responsible since it was his fault. + +Brueggemann, the long, lean private tutor, now stuck his head in the +door, too. He had on his most solemn long coat, nodded sadly like one +bidden to a funeral, and sniffed through his nose: + +"Yes--yes--yes--yes--" + +"What are you sighing over so pitiably, you old weeping-willow?" Papa +said, laughing. "There are only merry folk here. Isn't it so, +Brigitta?" + +"Of course that is so," the girl said. "And here, Doctor, is your +Christmas plate." She led him to his place where a little purse of +calf's leather peeped modestly out from, under the cakes. + +"This is your present from Mamma," she continued, handing him a long, +dark-covered book. "It is 'The Three Ways to Peace,' which you always +admired so much." + +The learned gentleman hid a tear of emotion but squinted again at the +little pocket-book. This represented the fourth way to peace, for he +had old beer debts. + +The servants were now ushered in, too. First came Mrs. Poensgen, the +housekeeper, who carried in her crooked, scarred hands a little +flower-pot with Alpine violets. + +"This is for Mamma," she said to Brigitta, who took the pot from her +and led her to her own place. There were many good things, among them +a brown knitted sweater, such as she had long desired, for in the +kitchen an east wind was wont to blow through the cracks. + +Mrs. Poensgen saw the sweater as rapidly as Brueggemann had seen the +purse. And when Brigitta said: "That is, of course, from Mamma," the +old woman was not in the least surprised. For in her fifteen years of +service she had discovered that the best things always came +from Mamma. + +The two boys, in the meantime, were anxious to ease their consciences +and recite their poems. They stood around Papa. + +He was busy with the inspectors of the estate, and did not notice them +for a moment. Then he became aware of his oversight and took the +sheets from their hands, laughing and regretting his neglect. Fritz +assumed the proper attitude, and Papa did the same, but when the +latter saw the heading of the poem: "To his dear parents at +Christmastide," he changed his mind and said: "Let's leave that till +later when we are with Mamma." + +And so the boys could go on to their places. And as their joy +expressed itself at first in a happy silence, Papa stepped up behind +them and shook them and said: "Will you be merry, you little scamps? +What is Mamma to think if you're not!" + +That broke the spell which had held them heretofore. Fritz set his +net, and when Arthur discovered a pinnace on his man-of-war, the +feeling of immeasurable wealth broke out in jubilation. + +But this is the way of the heart. Scarcely had they discovered their +own wealth but they turned in desire to that which was not for them. + +Arthur had discovered the shiny patent lock that lay between Mamma's +plate and his own. It seemed uncertain whether it was for him or her. +He felt pretty well assured that it was not for him; on the other +hand, he couldn't imagine what use she could put it to. Furthermore, +he was interested in it, since it was made upon a certain model. It is +not for nothing that one is an engineer with all one's heart and mind. + +Now, Fritz tried to give an expert opinion, too. He considered it a +combination Chubb lock. Of course that was utter nonsense. But then +Fritz would sometimes talk at random. + +However that may be, this lock was undoubtedly the finest thing of +all. And when one turned the key in it, it gave forth a soft, slow, +echoing tone, as though a harp-playing spirit sat in its steel body. + +But Papa came and put an end to their delight. + +"What are you thinking of, you rascals?" he said in jesting reproach. +"Instead of giving poor Mamma something for Christmas, you want to +take the little that she has." + +At that they were mightily ashamed. And Arthur said that of course +they had something for Mamma, only they had left it in the hall, so +that they could take it at once when they went to her. + +"Get it in," said Papa, "in order that her place may not look so +meager." They ran out and came back with their presents. + +Fritz had carved a flower-pot holder. It consisted of six parts, which +dove-tailed delicately into each other. But that was nothing compared +to Arthur's ventilation window, which was woven of horse hair. + +Papa was delighted. "Now we needn't be ashamed to be seen," he said. +Then, too, he explained to them the mechanism of the lock, and told +them that its purpose was to guard dear Mamma's flowers better. For +recently some of her favourite roses had been stolen and the only way +to account for it was that some one had a pass key. + +"So, and now we'll go to her at last," he concluded. "We have kept her +waiting long. And we will be happy with her, for happiness is the +great thing, as Mamma says.... Get us the key, Brigitta, to the gate +and the chapel." + +And Brigitta got the key to the gate and the chapel. + + + + + +THEA + +_A Phantasy over the Samovar_ + + + + +Chapter I. + + +She is a faery and yet she is none.... But she is my faery surely. + +She has appeared to me only in a few moments of life when I least +expected her. + +And when I desired to hold her, she vanished. + +Yet has she often dwelt near me. I felt her in the breath of winter +winds sweeping over sunny fields of snow; I breathed her presence in +the morning frost that clung, glittering, to my beard; I saw the +shadow of her gigantic form glide over the smoky darkness of heaven +which hung with the quietude of hopelessness over the dull white +fields; I heard the whispering of her voice in the depths of the +shining tea urn surrounded by a dancing wreath of spirit flames. + +But I must tell the story of those few times when she stood bodily +before me--changed of form and yet the same--my fate, my future as it +should have been and was not, my fear and my trust, my good and my +evil star. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was many, many years ago on a late evening near Epiphany. + +Without whirled the snow. The flakes came fluttering to the windows +like endless swarms of moths. Silently they touched the panes and then +glided straight down to earth as though they had broken their wings in +the impact. + +The lamp, old and bad for the eyes, stood on the table with its +polished brass foot and its raveled green cloth shade. The oil in the +tank gurgled dutifully. Black fragments gathered on the wick, which +looked like a stake over which a few last flames keep watch. + +Yonder in the shabby upholstered chair my mother had fallen into a +doze. Her knitting had dropped from her hands and lay on the +flower-patterned apron. The wool-thread cut a deep furrow in the skin +of her rough forefinger. One of the needles swung behind her ear. + +The samovar with its bellied body and its shining chimney stood on a +side table. From time to time a small, pale-blue cloud of steam +whirled upward, and a gentle odour of burning charcoal tickled +my nostrils. + +Before me on the table lay open Sallust's "Catilinarian Conspiracy!" +But what did I care for Sallust? Yonder on the book shelf, laughing +and alluring in its gorgeous cover stood the first novel that I ever +read--"The Adventures of Baron Muenchausen!" + +Ten pages more to construe. Then I was free. I buried my hands deep +into my breeches pockets, for I was cold. Only ten pages more. + +Yearningly I stared at my friend. + +And behold, the bookbinder's crude ornamentation--ungraceful +arabesques of vine leaves which wreathe about broken columns, a rising +sun caught in a spider's web of rays--all that configuration begins to +spread and distend until it fills the room. The vine leaves tremble in +a morning wind; a soft blowing shakes the columns, and higher and +higher mounts the sun. Like a dance of flickering torches his rays +shoot to and fro, his glistening arms are outstretched as though they +would grasp the world and pull it to the burning bosom of the sun. And +a great roaring arises in the air, muffled and deep as distant organ +strains. It rises to the blare of trumpets, it quivers with the clash +of cymbals. + +Then the body of the sun bursts open. A bluish, phosphorescent flame +hisses forth. Upon this flame stands erect in fluttering _chiton_ a +woman, fair and golden haired, swan's wings at her shoulders, a harp +held in her hand. + +She sees me and her face is full of laughter. Her laughter sounds +simple, childlike, arch. And surely, it is a child's mouth from which +it issues. The innocent blue eyes look at me in mad challenge. The +firm cheeks glow with the delight of life. Heavens! What is this +child's head doing on that body? She throws the harp upon the clouds, +sits down on the strings, scratches her little nose swiftly with her +left wing and calls out to me: "Come, slide with me!" + +I stare at her open-mouthed. Then I gather all my courage and stammer: +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Thea," she giggles. + +"But _who_ are you?" I ask again. + +"Who? Nonsense. Come, pull me! But no; you can't fly. I'll pull you. +That will go quicker." + +And she arises. Heavens! What a form! Magnificently the hips curve +over the fallen girdle; in how noble a line are throat and bosom +married. No sculptor can achieve the like. + +With her slender fingers she grasps the blue, embroidered riband that +is attached to the neck of the harp. She grasps it with the gesture of +one who is about to pull a sleigh. + +"Come," she cries again. I dare not understand her. Awkwardly I crouch +on the strings. + +"I might break them," I venture. + +"You little shaver," she laughs. "Do you know how light you are? And +now, hold fast!" + +I have scarcely time to grasp the golden frame with both hands. I hear +a mighty rustling in front of me. The mighty wings unfold. My sleigh +floats and billows in the air. Forward and upward goes the +roaring flight. + +Far, far beneath me lies the paternal hut. Scarcely does its light +penetrate to my height. Gusts of snow whirl about my forehead. Next +moment the light is wholly lost. Dawn breaks through the night. A warm +wind meets us and blows upon the strings so that they tremble gently +and lament like a sleeping child whose soul is troubled by a dream of +loneliness. + +"Look down!" cried my faery, turning her laughing little head toward +me. + +Bathed in the glow of spring I see an endless carpet of woods and +hills, fields and lakes spread out below me. The landscape gleams with +a greenish silveriness. My glance can scarcely endure the richness of +the miracle. + +"But it has become spring," I say trembling. + +"Would you like to go down?" she asks. + +"Yes, yes." + +At once we glide downward. "Guess what that is!" she says. + +An old, half-ruined castle rears its granite walls before me.... A +thousand year old ivy wreathes about its gables.... Black and white +swallows dart about the roofs.... All about arises a thicket of +hawthorn in full bloom.... Wild roses emerge from the darkness, +innocently agleam like children's eyes. A sleepy tree bends its boughs +above them. + +There is life at the edge of the ancient terrace where broad-leaved +clover grows in the broken urns. A girlish form, slender and lithe, +swinging a great, old-fashioned straw hat, having a shawl wound +crosswise over throat and waist, has stepped forth from the decaying +old gate. She carries a little white bundle under her arm, and looks +tentatively to the right and to the left as one who is about to go on +a journey. + +"Look at her," says my friend. + +The scales fall from my eyes. + +"That is Lisbeth," I cried out in delight, "who is going to the +mayor's farm." + +Scarcely have I mentioned that farm but a fragrance of roasting meat +rises up to me. Clouds of smoke roll toward me, dim flames quiver up +from it. There is a sound of roasting and frying and the seething fat +spurts high. No wonder; there's going to be a wedding. "Would you +like to see the executioner's sword?" my friend asks. + +A mysterious shudder runs down my limbs. + +"I'd like to well enough," I say fearfully. + +A rustle, a soft metallic rattle--and we are in a small, bare +chamber.... Now it is night again and the moonlight dances on the +rough board walls. + +"Look there," whispers my friend and points to a plump old chest. + +Her laughing face has grown severe and solemn. Her body seems to have +grown. Noble and lordly as a judge she stands before me. + +I stretch my neck; I peer at the chest. + +There it lies, gleaming and silent, the old sword. A beam of moonlight +glides along the old blade, drawing a long, straight line. But what do +those dark spots mean which have eaten hollows into the metal? + +"That is blood," says my friend and crosses her arms upon her breast. + +I shiver but my eyes seem to have grown fast to the terrible image. + +"Come," says Thea. + +"I can't." + +"Do you want it?" + +"What? The sword?" + +She nods. "But may you give it away? Does it belong to you?" + +"I may do anything. Everything belongs to me." + +A horror grips me with its iron fist. "Give it to me!" I cry +shuddering. + +The iron lightening gleams up and it lies cold and moist in my arms. +It seems to me as though the blood upon it began to flow afresh. + +My arms feel dead, the sword falls from them and sinks upon the +strings. These begin to moan and sing. Their sounds are almost like +cries of pain. + +"Take care," cries my friend. "The sword may rend the strings; it is +heavier than you." + +We fly out into the moonlit night. But our flight is slower than +before. My friend breathes hard and the harp swings to and fro like a +paper kite in danger of fluttering to earth. + +But I pay no attention to all that. Something very amusing captures my +senses. + +Something has become alive in the moon which floats, a golden disc, +amid the clouds. Something black and cleft twitches to and fro on her +nether side. I look more sharply and discover a pair of old +riding-boots in which stick two long, lean legs. The leather on the +inner side of the boots is old and worn and glimmers with a dull +discoloured light. "Since when does the moon march on legs through +the world?" I ask myself and begin to laugh. And suddenly I see +something black on the upper side of the moon--something that wags +funnily up and down. I strain my eyes and recognise my old friend +Muenchausen's phantastic beard and moustache. He has grasped the edges +of the moon's disc with his long lean fingers and laughs, laughs. + +"I want to go there," I call to my friend. + +She turns around. Her childlike face has now become grave and madonna +like. She seems to have aged by years. Her words echo in my ear like +the sounds of broken chimes. + +"He who carries the sword cannot mount to the moon." + +My boyish stubbornness revolts. "But I want to get to my friend +Muenchausen." + +"He who carries the sword has no friend." + +I jump up and tug at the guiding riband. The harp capsises.... I fall +into emptiness ... the sword above me ... it penetrates my body ... I +fall ... I fall.... + +"Yes, yes," says my mother, "why do you call so fearfully? I am +awake." + +Calmly she took the knitting-needle from behind her ear, stuck it into +the wool and wrapped the unfinished stocking about it. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Six years passed. Then Thea met me again. She had been gracious enough +to leave her home in the island valley of Avilion, to play the +soubrette parts in the theatre of the university town in which I was +fencing and drinking for the improvement of my mind. + +Upon her little red shoes she tripped across the stage. She let her +abbreviated skirts wave in the boldest curves. She wore black silk +stockings which flowed about her delicate ankles in ravishing lines +and disappeared all too soon, just above the knee, under the hem of +her skirt. She plaited herself two thick braids of hair the blue +ribands of which she loved to chew when the modesty that belonged to +her part overwhelmed her. She sucked her thumb, she stuck out her +tongue, she squeaked and shrieked and turned up her little nose. And, +oh, how she laughed. It was that sweet, sophisticated, vicious +soubrette laughter which begins with the musical scale and ends in +a long coo. + +Show me the man among us whom she cannot madden into love with all the +traditional tricks of her trade. Show me the student who did not keep +glowing odes deep-buried in his lecture notes--deep-buried as the +gigantic grief of some heroic soul.... + +And one afternoon she appeared at the skating rink. She wore a +gleaming plush jacket trimmed with sealskin, and a fur cap which sat +jauntily over her left ear. The hoar frost clung like diamond dust to +the reddish hair that framed her cheeks, and her pink little nose +sniffed up the cold air. + +After she had made a scene with the attendant who helped her on with +her shoes, during which such expressions as "idiot," had escaped her +sweet lips, she began to skate. A child, just learning to walk, could +have done better. + +We foolish boys stood about and stared at her. + +The desire to help her waxed in us to the intensity of madness. But +when pouting she stretched out her helpless arms at us, we recoiled as +before an evil spirit. Not one of us found the courage simply to +accept the superhuman bliss for which he had been hungering by day and +night for months. + +Then suddenly--at an awful curve--she caught her foot, stumbled, +wavered first forward and then backward and finally fell into the arms +of the most diffident and impassioned of us all. + +And that was I. + +Yes, that was I. To this day my fists are clenched with rage at the +thought that it might have been another. + +Among those who remained behind as I led her away in triumph there was +not one who could not have slain me with a calm smile. + +Under the impact of the words which she wasted upon my unworthy self, +I cast down my eyes, smiling and blushing. Then I taught her how to +set her feet and showed off my boldest manoeuvres. I also told her +that I was a student in my second semester and that it was my ambition +to be a poet. + +"Isn't that sweet?" she exclaimed. "I suppose you write poetry +already?" + +I certainly did. I even had a play in hand which treated of the fate +of the troubadour Bernard de Ventadours in rhymeless, irregular verse. + +"Is there a part for me in it?" she asked. + +"No," I answered, "but it doesn't matter. I'll put one in." + +"Oh, how sweet that is of you!" she cried. "And do you know? You must +read me the play. I can help you with my practical knowledge of +the stage." + +A wave of bliss under which I almost suffocated, poured itself out +over me. + +"I have also written poems--to you!" I stammered. The wave carried me +away. "Think of that," she said quite kindly instead of boxing my +ears. "You must send them to me." + +"Surely."... + +And then I escorted her to the door while my friends followed us at a +seemly distance like a pack of wolves. + +The first half of the night I passed ogling beneath her window; the +second half at my table, for I wanted to enrich the packet to be sent +her by some further lyric pearls. At the peep of dawn I pushed the +envelope, tight as a drum with its contents, into the pillar box and +went to cool my burning head on the ramparts. + +On that very afternoon came a violet-tinted little letter which had an +exceedingly heady fragrance and bore instead of a seal a golden lyre +transfixed by a torch. It contained the following lines: + +"DEAR POET: + +"Your verses aren't half bad; only too fiery. I'm really in a hurry to +hear your play. My old chaperone is going out this evening. I will be +at home alone and will, therefore, be bored. So come to tea at seven. +But you must give me your word of honour that you do not give away +this secret. Otherwise I won't care for you the least bit. + +"Your THEA." Thus did she write, I swear it--she, my faery, my Muse, +my Egeria, she to whom I desired to look up in adoration to the last +drawing of my breath. + +Swiftly I revised and corrected and recited several scenes of my play. +I struck out half a dozen superfluous characters and added a +dozen others. + +At half past six I set out on my way. A thick, icy fog lay in the air. +Each person that I met was covered by a cloud of icy breath. + +I stopped in front of a florist's shop. + +All the treasures of May lay exposed there on little terraces of black +velvet. There were whole beds of violets and bushes of snow-drops. +There was a great bunch of long-stemmed roses, carelessly held +together by a riband of violet silk. + +I sighed deeply. I knew why I sighed. + +And then I counted my available capital: Eight marks and seventy +pfennigs. Seven beer checks I have in addition. But these, alas, are +good only at my inn--for fifteen pfennigs worth of beer a piece. + +At last I take courage and step into the shop. + +"What is the price of that bunch of roses?" I whisper. I dare not +speak aloud, partly by reason of the great secret and partly through +diffidence. "Ten marks," says the fat old saleswoman. She lets the +palm leaves that lie on her lap slip easily into an earthen vessel and +proceeds to the window to fetch the roses. + +I am pale with fright. My first thought is: Run to the inn and try to +exchange your checks for cash. You can't borrow anything two days +before the first of the month. + +Suddenly I hear the booming of the tower clock. + +"Can't I get it a little cheaper?" I ask half-throttled. + +"Well, did you ever?" she says, obviously hurt. "There are ten roses +in the bunch; they cost a mark a piece at this time. We throw in +the riband." + +I am disconsolate and am about to leave the shop. But the old +saleswoman who knows her customers and has perceived the tale of love +lurking under my whispering and my hesitation, feels a human sympathy. + +"You might have a few roses taken out," she says. "How much would you +care to expend, young man?" + +"Eight marks and seventy pfennigs," I am about to answer in my folly. +Fortunately it occurs to me that I must keep out a tip for her maid. +The ladies of the theatre always have maids. And I might leave late. +"Seven marks," I answer therefore. + +With quiet dignity the woman extracts _four_ roses from my bunch and I +am too humble and intimidated to protest. + +But my bunch is still rich and full and I am consoled to think that a +wooing prince cannot do better. + +Five minutes past seven I stand before her door. + +Need I say that my breath gives out, that I dare not knock, that the +flowers nearly fall from my nerveless hand? All that is a matter of +course to anyone who has ever, in his youth, had dealings with faeries +of Thea's stamp. + +It is a problem to me to this day how I finally did get into her room. +But already I see her hastening toward me with laughter and burying +her face in the roses. + +"O you spendthrift!" she cries and tears the flowers from my hand in +order to pirouette with them before the mirror. And then she assumes a +solemn expression and takes me by a coat button, draws me nearer and +says: "So, and now you may kiss me as a reward." + +I hear and cannot grasp my bliss. My heart seems to struggle out at my +throat, but hard before me bloom her lips. I am brave and kiss her. +"Oh," she says, "your beard is full of snow." + +"My beard! Hear it, ye gods! Seriously and with dignity she speaks of +my beard." + +A turbid sense of being a kind of Don Juan or Lovelace arises in me. +My self-consciousness assumes heroic dimensions, and I begin to regard +what is to come with a kind of daemonic humour. + +The mist that has hitherto blurred my vision departs. I am able to +look about me and to recognise the place where I am. + +To be sure, that is a new and unsuspected world--from the rosy silken +gauze over the toilet mirror that hangs from the beaks of two floating +doves, to the row of exquisite little laced boots that stands in the +opposite corner. From the candy boxes of satin, gold, glass, saffron, +ivory, porcelain and olive wood which adorn the dresser to the edges +of white billowy skirts which hang in the next room but have been +caught in the door--I see nothing but miracles, miracles. + +A maddening fragrance assaults my senses, the same which her note +exhaled. But now that fragrance streams from her delicate, graceful +form in its princess gown of pale yellow with red bows. She dances and +flutters about the room with so mysterious and elf-like a grace as +though she were playing Puck in the "Midsummer Night's Dream," the +part in which she first enthralled my heart. + +Ah, yes, she meant to get tea. + +"Well, why do you stand there so helplessly, you horrid creature? +Come! Here is a tablecloth, here are knives and forks. I'll light the +spirit lamp in the meantime." + +And she slips by me not without having administered a playful tap to +my cheek and vanishes in the dark room of mystery. + +I am about to follow her, but out of the darkness I hear a laughing +voice: "Will you stay where you are, Mr. Curiosity?" + +And so I stand still on the threshold and lay my head against those +billowy skirts. They are fresh and cool and ease my burning forehead. + +Immediately thereafter I see the light of a match flare up in the +darkness, which for a moment sharply illuminates the folds of her +dress and is then extinguished. Only a feeble, bluish flame remains. +This flame plays about a polished little urn and illuminates dimly the +secrets of the forbidden sanctuary. I see bright billowy garments, +bunches of flowers and wreaths of leaves, with long, silken, +shimmering bands--and suddenly the Same flares high.... + +"Now I've spilt the alcohol," I hear the voice of my friend. But her +laughter is full of sarcastic arrogance. "Ah, that'll be a play of +fire!" Higher and higher mount the flames. + +"Come, jump into it!" she cries out to me, and instead of quenching +the flame she pours forth more alcohol into the furious conflagration. + +"For heaven's sake!" I cry out. + +"Do you know now who I am?" she giggles. "I'm a witch!" + +With jubilant screams she loosens her hair of reddish gold which now +falls about her with a flaming glory. She shows me her white sharp +teeth and with a sudden swift movement she springs into the flame +which hisses to the very ceiling and clothes the chamber in a garb +of fire. + +I try to call for help, but my throat is tied, my breath stops. I am +throttled by smoke and flames. + +Once more I hear her elfin laughter, but now it comes to me from +subterranean depths. The earth has opened; new flames arise and +stretch forth fiery arms toward me. + +A voice cries from the fires: "Come! Come!" And the voice is like the +sound of bells. Then suddenly the night enfolds me. + + * * * * * + +The witchery has fled. Badly torn and scarred I find myself again on +the street. Next to me on the ground lies my play. "Did you not mean +to read that to some one?" I ask myself. + +A warm and gentle air caresses my fevered face. A blossoming lilac +bush inclines its boughs above me and from afar, there where the dawn +is about to appear, I hear the clear trilling of larks. + +I dream no longer.... But the spring has come.... + + + + +Chapter IV + + +And again the years pass by. + +It was on an evening during the carnival season and the world, that +is, the world that begins with the baron and ends with the +stockjobber, floated upon waves of pleasure as bubbles of fat float on +the surface of soup. + +Whoever did not wallow in the mire was sarcastically said not to be +able to sustain himself on his legs. + +There were those among my friends who had not gone to bed till morning +for thirty days. Some of them slept only to the strains of a +world-famous virtuoso; others only in the cabs that took them from +dinner to supper. + +Whenever three of them met, one complained of shattered nerves, the +second of catarrh of the stomach, the third of both. + +That was the pace of our amusement. + +Of mine, too. + +It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. I sat in a _cafe_, that +famous _cafe_ which unacknowleged geniuses affirm to be the very +centre of all intellectual life. No spot on earth is said to have so +fruitful an effect upon one's genius. Yet, strangely enough, however +eager for inspiration I might lounge about its red upholstery, however +ardently aglow for inspiration I might drink expensive champagnes +there, yet the supreme, immense, all-liberating thought did not come. + +Nor would that thought come to me to-day. Less than ever, in fact. Red +circles danced before my eyes and in my veins hammered the throbs of +fever. It wasn't surprising. For I, too, could scarcely remember to +have slept recently. It is an effort to raise my lids. The hand that +would stroke the hair with the gesture of genius--alas, how thin the +hair is getting--sinks down in nerveless weakness. + +But I may not go home. Mrs. Elsbeth--we bachelors call her so when her +husband is not by--Mrs. Elsbeth has ordered me to be here.... She +intended to drop in at midnight on her return from dinner with her +husband. The purpose of her coming is to discuss with me the surprises +which I am to think up for her magic festival. + +She is exacting enough, the sweet little woman, but the world has it +that I love her. And in order to let the world be in the right a man +is not averse to making a fool of herself. + +The stream of humanity eddies about me. Like endless chains rotating +in different directions, thus seem the two lines of those who enter +and those who depart. There are dandies in coquettish furs, their silk +hats low on their foreheads, their canes held vertically in their +pockets. There are fashionable ladies in white silk opera cloaks set +with ermine, their eyes peering from behind Spanish veils in proud +curiosity. And all are illuminated by the spirit of festivity. + +Also one sees shop-girls, dragged here by some chance admirer. They +wear brownish cloaks, ornamented with knots--the kind that looks worn +the day it is taken from the shop. And there are ladies of that +species whom one calls "ladies" only between quotation marks. These +wear gigantic picture hats trimmed with rhinestones. The hems of their +dresses are torn and flecked with last season's mud. There are +students who desire to be intoxicated through the lust of the eye; +artists who desire to regain a lost sobriety of vision; journalists +who find stuff for leader copy in the blue despatches that are posted +here; Bohemians and loungers of every station, typical of every degree +of sham dignity and equally sham depravity. They all intermingle in +manicoloured waves. It is the mad masque of the metropolis.... + +A friend comes up to me, one of the three hundred bosom friends with +whom I am wont to swap shady stories. He is pallid with +sleeplessness, deep horizontal lines furrow his forehead, his brows +are convulsively drawn. So we all look.... + +"Look here," he says, "you weren't at the Meyers' yesterday." + +"I was invited elsewhere." + +"Where?" + +I've got to think a minute before I can remember the name. We all +suffer from weakness in the head. + +"Aha," he cries. "I'm told it was swell. Magnificent women ... and +that fellow ... er ... thought reader and what's her name ... yes ... +the Sembrich ... swell ... you must introduce me there some day...." + +Stretching his legs he sinks down at my side on the sofa. + +Silence. My bosom friend and I have exhausted the common stock of +interests. + +He has lit a cigarette and is busy catching the white clouds which he +blows from his nose with his mouth. This employment seems to satisfy +his intellect wholly. + +I, for my part, stare at the ceiling. There the golden bodies of +snakes wind themselves in mad arabesques through chains of roses. The +pretentious luxury offends my eye. I look farther, past the +candelabrum of crystal which reflects sharp rainbow tints over all, +past the painted columns whose shafts end in lily leaves as some +torturing spear does in flesh. + +My glance stops yonder on the wall where a series of fresco pictures +has been painted. + +The forms of an age that was drunk with beauty look down on me in +their victorious calm. They are steeped in the glow of a southern +heaven. The rigid splendour of the marble walls is contrasted with the +magnificent flow of long garments. + +It is a Roman supper. Rose-crowned men lean upon Indian cushions, +holding golden beakers in their right hands. Women in yielding +nakedness cower at their feet. Through the open door streams in a +Bacchic procession with fauns and panthers, the drunken Pan in its +midst. Brown-skinned slaves with leopard skins about their loins make +mad music. Among them is one who at once makes me forget the tumult. +She leans her firm, naked body surreptitiously against the pillar. Her +form is contracted with weariness. Thoughtlessly and with tired lips +she blows the _tibia_ which her nerveless hands threaten to drop. Her +cheeks are yellow and fallen in, her eyes are glassy, but upon her +forehead are seen the folds of lordship and about her mouth wreaths a +stony smile of irony. Who is she? Whence does she come? I ask myself. +But I feel a dull thud against my shoulder. My bosom friend has fallen +asleep and is using me as a pillow. + +"Look here, you!" I call out to him, for I have for the moment +forgotten his name. "Go home and go to bed." + +He starts up and gazes at me with swimming eyes. + +"Do you mean me?" he stutters. "That's a good joke." And next moment +he begins to snore. + +I hide him as well as possible with my broad back and bend down over +the glittering samovar before me. The fragrant steam prickles my nose. + +It is time that the little woman turn up if I am to amuse her guests. + +I think of the brown-skinned woman yonder in the painting. + +I open my eyes. Merciful heaven! What is that? + +For the woman stands erect now in all the firm magnificence of her +young limbs, presses her clenched fists against her forehead and +stares down at me with glowing eyes. + +And suddenly she hurls the flutes from her in a long curve and cries +with piercing voice: "No more ... I will play no more!" It is the +voice of a slave at the moment of liberation. + +"For heaven's sake, woman!" I cry. "What are you doing? You will be +slain; you will be thrown to the wild beasts!" + +She points about her with a gesture that is full of disgust and +contempt. + +Then I see what she means. All that company has fallen asleep. The men +lie back with open mouths, the goblets still in their hands. Golden +cascades of wine fall glittering upon the marble. The women writhe in +these pools of wine. But even in the intoxication of their dreams they +try to guard their elaborate hair dress. The whole mad band, musicians +and animals, lies there with limbs dissolved, panting for air, +overwhelmed by heavy sleep. + +"The way is free!" cries the flute player jubilantly and buries her +twitching fingers into the flesh of her breasts. "What is there to +hinder my flight?" + +"Whither do you flee, mad woman?" I ask. + +A gleam of dreamy ecstasy glides over her grief-worn face which seems +to flush and grow softer of outline. + +"Home--to freedom," she whispers down to me and her eyes burn. + +"Where is your home?" + +"In the desert," she cries. "Here I play for their dances; there I am +queen. My name is Thea and it is resonant through storms. They chained +me with golden chains; they lured me with golden speeches until I left +my people and followed them to their prison that is corroded with +lust.... Ah, if you knew with my knowledge, you would not sit here +either.... But the slave of the moment knows not liberty." + +"I have known it," I say drearily and let my chin sink upon the table. + +"And you are here?" + +Contemptuously she turns her back to me. + +"Take me with you, Thea," I cry, "take me with you to freedom." + +"Can you still endure it." + +"I will endure the glory of freedom or die of it." + +"Then come." + +A brown arm that seems endless stretches down to me. An iron grasp +lifts me upward. Noise and lights dislimn in the distance. + +Our way lies through great, empty, pillared halls which curve above us +like twilit cathedrals. Great stairs follow which fall into black +depths like waterfalls of stone. Thence issues a mist, green with +silvery edges.... + +A dizziness seizes me as I strive to look downward. + +I have a presentiment of something formless, limitless. A vague awe +and terror fill me. I tremble and draw back but an alien hand +constrains me. + +We wander along a moonlit street. To the right and left extend pallid +plains from which dark cypress trees arise, straight as candles. + +It is all wide and desolate like those halls. + +In the far distance arise sounds like half smothered cries of the +dying, but they grow to music. + +Shrill jubilation echoes between the sounds and it too grows to music. + +But this music is none other than the roaring of the storm which +lashes us on when we dare to faint. + +And we wander, wander ... days, weeks, months. Who knows how long? + +Night and day are alike. We do not rest; nor speak. + +The road is far behind us. We wander upon trackless wastes. + +Stonier grows the way, an eternal up and down over cliffs and through +chasms.... The edges of the weathered stones become steps for our +feet. Breathlessly we climb the peaks. Beyond them we clatter into +new abysms. + +My feet bleed. My limbs jerk numbly like those of a jumping-jack. An +earthy taste is on my lips. I have long lost all sense of progress. +One cliff is like another in its jagged nakedness; one abysm dark and +empty as another. Perhaps I wander in a circle. Perhaps this brown +hand is leading me wildly astray, this hand whose grasp has penetrated +my flesh, and has grown into it like the fetter of a slave. + +Suddenly I am alone. + +I do not know how it came to pass. + +I drag myself to a peak and look about me. + +There spreads in the crimson glow of dawn the endless, limitless rocky +desert--an ocean turned to stone. + +Jagged walls tower in eternal monotony into the immeasurable distance +which is hid from me by no merciful mist. Out of invisible abysms +arise sharp peaks. A storm from the south lashes their flanks from +which the cracked stone fragments roll to become the foundations of +new walls. + +The sun, hard and sharp as a merciless eye, arises slowly in this +parched sky and spreads its cloak of fire over this dead world. + +The stone upon which I sit begins to glow. + +The storm drives splinters of stone into my flesh. A fiery stream of +dust mounts toward me. Madness descends upon me like a fiery canopy. + +Shall I wander on? Shall I die? + +I wander on, for I am too weary to die. At last, far off, on a ledge +of rock, I see the figure of a man. + +Like a black spot it interrupts this sea of light in which the very +shadows have become a crimson glow. + +An unspeakable yearning after this man fills my soul. For his steps +are secure. His feet are scarcely lifted, yet quietly does he fare +down the chasms and up the heights. I want to rush to meet him but a +great numbness holds me back. + +He comes nearer and nearer. + +I see a pallid, bearded countenance with high cheek-bones, and +emaciated cheeks.... The mouth, delicate and gentle as a girl's, is +drawn in a quiet smile. A bitterness that has grown into love, into +renunciation, even into joy, shines in this smile. + +And at the sight of it I feel warm and free. + +And then I see his eye which is round and sharp as though open through +the watches of many nights. With moveless clearness of vision he +measures the distances, and is careless of the way which his foot +finds without groping. In this look lies a dreaming glow which turns +to waking coldness. + +A tremour of reverence seizes my body. + +And now I know who this man is who fares through the desert in +solitary thought, and to whom horror has shown the way to peace. He +looks past me! How could it be different? + +I dare not call to him. Movelessly I stare after him until his form +has vanished in the guise of a black speck behind the burning cliffs. + +Then I wander farther ... and farther ... and farther.... + + * * * * * + +It was on a grayish yellow day of autumn that I sat again after an +interval on the upholstery of the famous _cafe_, I looked gratefully +up at the brown slave-girl in the picture who blew upon her flutes as +sleepily and dully as ever. I had come to see her. + +I start for I feel a tap on my shoulder. + +In brick-red gloves, his silk-hat over his forehead, a little more +tired and world-worn than ever, that bosom friend whose name I have +now definitely forgotten stood before me. + +"Where the devil have you been all this time?" he asks. + +"Somewhere," I answer laughing. "In the desert." ... + +"Gee! What were you looking for there?" + +"_Myself_."... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +And ever swifter grows the beat of time's wing. My breath can no +longer keep the same pace. + +Thoughtless enjoyment of life has long yielded to a life and death +struggle. + +And I am conquered. + +Wretchedness and want have robbed me of my grasping courage and of my +laughing defiance. The body is sick and the soul droops its wings. + + * * * * * + +Midnight approaches. The smoky lamp burns more dimly and outside on +the streets life begins to die out. Only from time to time the snow +crunches and groans under the hurrying foot of some belated and +freezing passer-by. The reflection of the gas lamps rests upon the +frozen windows as though a yellow veil had been drawn before them. + +In the room hovers a dull heat which weighs upon my brain and even +amid shivering wrings the sweat from my pores. + +I had the fire started again toward night for I was cold. Now I am no +longer cold. + +"Take care of yourself," my friend the doctor said to me, "you have +worked yourself to pieces and must rest." + +"Rest, rest"--the word sounds like a gnome's irony from all the +corners of my room, for my work is heaping up on all sides and +threatens to smother me. + +"Work! Work!" This is the voice of conscience. It is like the voice of +a brutal waggoner that would urge a dead ass on to new efforts. + +My paper is in its place. For hours I have sat and stared at it +brooding. It is still empty. + +A disagreeably sweetish odour which arises impudently to my nose makes +me start. + +There stands the pitcher of herb tea which my landlady brought in at +bedtime. + +The dear woman. + +"Man must sweat," she had declared. "If the whole man gets into a +sweat then the evil humours are exuded, and the healthy sap gets a +chance to circulate until one is full of it." + +And saying that she wiped her greasy lips for she likes to eat a piece +of rye bread with goose grease before going to bed. + +Irritatedly I push the little pitcher aside, but its grayish green +steam whirls only the more pertinaciously about me. The clouds assume +strange forms, which tower over each other and whirl into each other +like the phantoms over a witch's cauldron. + +And at last the fumes combine into a human form, at first misty and +without outlines but gradually becoming more sharply defined. + +Gray, gray, gray. An aged woman. So she seems, for she creeps along by +the help of a crutch. But over her face is a veil which falls to the +ground over her arms like the folded wings of a bat. + +I begin to laugh, for spirits have long ceased to inspire me with +reverence. + +"Is your name by any chance Thea, O lovely, being?" I ask. + +"My name is Thea," she answers and her voice is weary, gentle and a +little hoarse. A caressing shimmer as of faintly blue velvet, an +insinuating fragrance as of dying mignonette--both lie in this voice. +The voice fills my heart. But I won't be taken in, least of all by +some trite ghost which is in the end only a vision of one's own +sick brain. + +"It seems that the years have not changed you for the better, charming +Thea," I say and point sarcastically to the crutch. + +"My wings are broken and I am withered like yourself." + +I laugh aloud. "So that is the meaning of this honoured apparition! A +mirror of myself--spirit of ruin--symbolic poem on the course of my +ideas. Pshaw! I know that trick. Every brainless Christmas poet knows +it, too. You must come with a more powerful charm, O Thea, spirit of +the herb tea! Good-bye. My time is too precious to be wasted by +allegories." + +"What have you to do that is so important?" she asks, and I seem to +see the gleam of her eyes behind the folds of the veil, whether in +laughter or in grief I cannot tell. + +"If I have nothing more to do, I must die," I answer and feel with joy +how my defiance steels itself in these words. + +"And that seems important to you?" + +"Moderately so." + +"Important to whom?" + +"To myself, I should think, if to no one else." + +"And your creditor--the world?" + +That was the last straw. "The world, oh, yes, the world. And what, +pray, do I owe it?" + +"Love." + +"Love? To that harlot? Because it sucked the fire from my veins and +poured poison therein instead? Behold me here--wrecked, broken, a +plaything of any wave. That is what the world has made of me!" + +"That is what you have made of yourself! ... The world came to you +as a smiling guide.... With gentle finger it touched your shoulder and +desired you to follow. But you were stubborn. You went your own way in +dark and lonely caverns where the laughing music of the fight that +sounds from above becomes a discordant thunder. You were meant to be +wise and merry; you became dull and morose." + +"Very well; if that is what I became, at least the grave will release +me from my condition." + +"Test yourself thoroughly." + +"What is the use of that now? Life has crippled me.... What of joy it +has to offer becomes torture to me.... I am cut loose from all the +kindly bonds that bind man to man.... I cannot bear hatred, neither +can I bear love.... I tremble at a thousand dangers that have never +threatened and will never threaten me. A very straw has become a cliff +to me against which I founder and against which my weary limbs are +dashed in pieces.... And this is the worst of all. My vision sees +clearly that it is but a straw before which my strength writhes in the +dust.... You have come at the right time, Thea. Perhaps you carry in +the folds of your robe some little potion that will help me to hurry +across the verge." + +Again I see a gleam behind the veil--a smiling salutation from some +far land where the sun is still shining. And my heart seems about to +burst under that gleam. But I control myself and continue to gaze at +her with bitter defiance. + +"It needs no potion," she says and raises her right hand. I have never +seen such a hand.... It seem to be without bones, formed of the petals +of flowers. The hand might seem deformed, dried and yet swollen as +with disease, were it not so delicate, so radiant, so lily-like. An +unspeakable yearning for this poor, sick hand overcomes me. I want to +fall on my knees before it and press my lips to it in adoration. But +already the hand lays itself softly upon my hair. Gentle and cool as a +flake of snow it rests there. But from moment to moment it waxes +heavier until the weight of mountains seems to lie upon my head. I can +bear the pressure no longer. I sink ... I sink ... the earth opens.... +Darkness is all about me.... + +Recovering consciousness, I find myself lying in a bed surrounded by +impenetrable night. + +"One of my stupid dreams," I say to myself and grope for the matches +on my bed side table to see the time.... But my hand strikes hard +against a board that rises diagonally at my shoulder. I grope farther +and discover that my couch is surrounded by a cloak of wood. And that +cloak is so narrow, so narrow that I can scarcely raise my head a +few inches without knocking against it. + +"Perhaps I am buried," I say to myself. "Then indeed my wish would +have fulfilled itself promptly." + +A fresh softly prickling scent of flowers, as of heather and roses, +floats to me. + +"Aha," I say to myself, "the odour of the funeral flowers. My +favourites have been chosen. That was kind of people." And, as I turn +my head the cups of flowers nestle soft and cool against my cheek. + +"You are buried amid roses," I say to myself, "as you always desired." +And then I touch my breast to discover what gift has been placed upon +my heart. My fingers touch hard, jagged leaves. + +"What is that?" I ask myself in surprise. And then I laugh shrilly. It +is a wreath of laurel leaves which has been pressed with its rough, +woodlike leaves between my body and the coffin lid. + +"Now you have everything that you so ardently desired, you fool of +fame," I cry out and a mighty irony takes hold of me. + +And then I stretch out my legs until my feet reach the end of the +coffin, nestle my head amid the flowers, and make ready to enjoy my +great peace with all my might. I am not in the least frightened or +confounded, for I know that air to breathe will never again be +lacking now for I need it no longer. I am dead, properly and honestly +dead. Nothing remains now but to flow peacefully and gently into the +realm of the unconscious, and to let the dim dream of the All surge +over me to eternity. + +"Good-night, my dear former fellow-creatures," I say and turn +contemptuously on my other side. "You can all go to the dickens for +all I care." + +And then I determine to lie still as a mouse and discover whether I +cannot find some food for the malice that yet is in me, by listening +to man's doings upon the wretched earth above me. + +At first I hear nothing but a dull roaring. But that may proceed as +well from the subterranean waters that rush through the earth +somewhere in my neighbourhood. But no, the sound comes from above. And +from time to time I also hear a rattling and hissing as of dried peas +poured out over a sieve. + +"Of course, it's wretched weather again," I say and rub my hands +comfortably, not, to be sure, without knocking my elbows against the +side of the coffin. + +"They could have made this place a little roomier," I say to myself. +But when it occurs to me that, in my character of an honest corpse, I +have no business to move at all if I want to be a credit to my +new station. + +But the spirit of contradiction in me at once rebels against this +imputation. + +"There are no classes in the grave and no prejudices," I cry. "In the +grave we are all alike, high and low, poor and rich. The rags of the +beggar, my masters, have here just the same value as the purple cloak +that falls from the shoulders of a king. Here even the laurel loses +its significance as the crown of fame and is given to many a one." + +I cease, for my fingers have discovered a riband that hangs from the +wreath. Upon it, I am justified in assuming, there is written some +flattering legend. The letters are just raised enough to be +indistinctly felt. + +I am about to call for matches, but remember just in time that it is +forbidden to strike a light in the grave or rather, that it is +contrary to the very conception of the grave to be illuminated. + +This thought annoys me and I continue: "The laurel is given here not +to the distinguished alone. I must correct that expression. Are not we +corpses distinguished _per se_ as compared to the miserable plebeian +living? Is not this noble rest in which we dwell an unmistakable sign +of true aristocracy? And the laurel that is given to the dead, that +laurel, my masters, fills me with as high a pride as would the diadem +of a king." + +I ceased. For I could rightly expect enthusiastic applause at the +close of this effective passage. But as everything remained silent I +turned my thoughts once more upon myself, and considered, too, that my +finest speeches would find no public here. + +"It is, besides, in utter contradiction to the conception of death to +deliver speeches," I said to myself, but at once I began another in +order to establish an opposition against myself. + +"Conception? What is a conception? What do I care for conceptions +here? I am dead. I have earned the sacred right to disregard such +things. If those two-penny living creatures cannot imagine the grave +otherwise than dark or the dead otherwise than dumb--why, I surely +have no need to care for that." + +In the meantime my fingers had scratched about on the riband in the +vain hope of inferring from the gilt and raised letters on the silk +their form and perhaps the significance of the legend. My efforts +were, however, without success. Hence I continued outraged: "In order +to speak first of the conception of the grave as dark, I should like +to ask any intelligent and expert corpse: 'Why is the grave +necessarily dark?' Should not we who are dead rather demand of an age +that has made such enormous progress in illumination, which has not +only invented gas and electric lighting and complied with the +regulations for the illumination of streets, but has at a slight cost +succeeded in giving to every corner of the world the very light of +day--may we not demand of such an age that it put an end to the +old-fashioned darkness of the grave? It would seem as if the most +elementary piety would constrain the living to this improvement. But +when did the living ever feel any piety? We must enforce from them the +necessaries of a worthy existence in death. Gentlemen, I close with +the last, or, I had better say, the first words of our great Goethe +whose genius with characteristic power of divination foresaw the +unworthy condition of the inner grave and the necessities of a truly +noble and liberal minded corpse. For what else could be the meaning of +that saying which I herewith inscribe upon our banner: 'Light, more +light!' That must henceforth be our device and our battlecry." + +This time, too, silence was my only answer. Whence I inferred that in +the grave there is neither striving nor crying out. Nevertheless I +continued to amuse myself and made many a speech against the +management of the cemetery, against the insufficiency of the method of +flat pressure upon the dead now in use, and similar outrages. In the +meantime the storm above had raged and the rain lashed its fill and a +peaceful silence descended upon all things. + +Only from time to time did I hear a short, dull uniform thunder, which +I could not account for until it occurred to me that it was produced +by the footsteps of passers-by, the noise of which was thus echoed and +multiplied in the earth. + +And then suddenly I heard the sound of human voices. + +The sound came vertically down to my head. + +People seemed to be standing at my grave. + +"Much I care about you," I said, and was about to continue to reflect +on my epoch-making invention which is to be called: _Helminothanatos_,' +that is to say, 'Death by Worms' and which, so soon as it is completed +is to be registered in the patent office as number 156,763. But my +desire to know what was thought of me after my death left me no rest. +Hence I did not hesitate long to press my ear to the inner roof of the +coffin in order that the sound might better reach me thus. + +Now I recognised the voices at once. + +They belonged to two men to whom I had always been united by bonds of +the tenderest sympathy and whom I was proud to call my friends. They +had always assured me of the high value which they set upon me and +that their blame--with which they had often driven me to secret +despair--proceeded wholly from helpful and unselfish love. + +"Poor devil," one of them said, in a tone of such humiliating +compassion that I was ashamed of myself in the very grave. + +"He had to bite the dust pretty early," the other sighed. "But it was +better so both for him and for myself. I could not have held him above +water much longer." ... + +From sheer astonishment I knocked my head so hard against the side of +the coffin that a bump remained. + +"When did you ever hold me above water?" I wanted to cry out but I +considered that they could not hear me. + +Then the first one spoke again. + +"I often found it hard enough to aid him with my counsel without +wounding his vanity. For we know how vain he was and how taken +with himself." + +"And yet he achieved little enough," the other answered. "He ran after +women and sought the society of inferior persons for the sake of their +flattery. It always astonished me anew when he managed to produce +something of approximately solid worth. For neither his character nor +his intelligence gave promise of it." + +"In your wonderful charity you are capable of finding something +excellent even in his work," the other replied. "But let us be frank: +The only thing he sometimes succeeded in doing was to flatter the +crude instincts of the mob. True earnestness or conviction he never +possessed." + +"I never claimed either for him," the first eagerly broke in. "Only I +didn't want to deny the poor fellow that bit of piety which is +demanded. _De mortuis_----" + +And both voices withdraw into the distance. + +"O you grave-robbers!" I cried and shook my fist after them. "Now I +know what your friendship was worth. Now it is clear to me how you +humiliated me upon all my ways, and how when I came to you in hours of +depression you administered a kick in order that you might increase in +stature at my expense! Oh, if I could only."... + +I ceased laughing. + +"What silly wishes, old boy!" I admonished myself. "Even if you could +master your friends; your enemies would drive you into the grave a +thousand times over." + +And I determined to devote my whole thought henceforth to the +epoch-making invention of my impregnating fluid called +"_Helminothanatos"_ or "Death by Worms." + +But new voices roused me from my meditation. + +I listened. + +"That's where what's his name is buried," said one. + +"Quite right," said the other. "I gave him many a good hit while he +was among us--more than I care to think about to-day. But he was an +able fellow. His worst enemy couldn't deny that." + +I started and shuddered. + +I knew well who he was: my bitterest opponent who tortured me so long +with open lashes and hidden stabs that I almost ended by thinking I +deserved nothing else. + +And he had a good word to say for me--_he?_ + +His voice went on. "To-day that he is out of our way we may as well +confess that we always liked him a great deal. He took life and work +seriously and never used an indecent weapon against us. And if the +tactics of war had not forced us to represent his excellences as +faults, we might have learned a good deal from him." + +"It's a great pity," said the other. "If, before everything was at +sixes and sevens, he could have been persuaded to adopt our views, we +could perhaps have had the pleasure of receiving him into our +fighting lines." + +"With open arms," was the answer. And then in solemn tone: + +"Peace be to his ashes." + +The other echoed: "Peace ..." + +And then they went on.... + +I hid my face in my hands. My breast seemed to expand and gently, very +gently something began to beat in it which had rested in silent +numbness since I lay down here. + +"So that is the nature of the world's judgment," I said to myself. "I +should have known that before. With head proudly erect I would have +gone my way, uninfluenced by the glitter of false affection as by the +blindness of wildly aiming hatred. I would have shaken praise and +blame from me with the same joyous laugh and sought the norm of +achievement in myself alone. Oh, if only I could live once more! If +only there were a way out of these accursed six boards!" + +In impotent rage I pounded the coffin top with my fist and only +succeeded in running a splinter into my finger. + +And then there came over me once more, even though it came +hesitatingly and against my will, a delightful consciousness of that +eternal peace into which I had entered. + +"Would it be worth the trouble after all," I said to myself, "to +return to the fray once more, even if I were a thousand times certain +of victory? What is this victory worth? Even if I succeed in being the +first to mount some height untrod hitherto by any human foot, yet the +next generation will climb on my shoulders and hurl me down into the +abysm of oblivion. There I could lie, lonely and helpless, until the +six boards are needed again to help me to my happiness. And so let me +be content and wait until that thing in my breast which has began to +beat so impudently, has become quiet once more." + +I stretched myself out, folded my hands, and determined to hold no +more incendiary speeches and thus counteract the trade of the worms, +but rather to doze quietly into the All. + +Thus I lay again for a space. + +Then arose somewhere a strange musical sound, which penetrated my +dreamy state but partially at first before it awakened me wholly from +my slumber. + +What was that? A signal of the last day? + +"It's all the same to me," I said and stretched myself. "Whether it's +heaven or hell--it will be a new experience." + +But the sound that had awakened me had nothing in common with the +metallic blare of trumpets which religious guides have taught us +to expect. + +Gentle and insinuating, now like the tones of flutes played by +children, now like the sobbing of a girl's voice, now like the +caressing sweetness with which a mother speaks to her little child--so +infinitely manifold but always full of sweet and yearning magic--alien +and yet dear and familiar--such was the music that came to my ear. + +"Where have I heard that before?" I asked myself, listening. + +And as I thought and thought, an evening of spring arose before my +soul--an evening out of a far and perished time.... I had wandered +along the bank of a steaming river. The sunset which shone through the +jagged young leaves spread a purple carpet over the quiet waters upon +which only a swift insect would here and there create circular eddies. +At every step I took the dew sprang up before me in gleaming pearls, +and a fragrance of wild thyme and roses floated through the air.... + +There it must have been that I heard this music for the first time. + +And now it was all clear: The nightingale was singing ... the +nightingale. + +And so spring has come to the upper world. + +Perhaps it is an evening of May even as that which my spirit recalls. + +Blue flowers stand upon the meadows.... Goldenrod and lilac mix their +blossoms into gold and violet wreaths.... Like torn veils the +delicate flakings of the buttercups fly through the twilight.... + +Surely from the village sounds the stork's rattle ... and surely the +distant strains of an accordion are heard.... + +But the nightingale up there cares little what other music may be +made. It sobs and jubilates louder and louder, as if it knew that in +the poor dead man's bosom down here the heart beats once more stormily +against his side. + +And at every throb of that heart a hot stream glides through my veins. +It penetrates farther and farther until it will have filled my whole +body. It seems to me as though I must cry out with yearning and +remorse. But my dull stubbornness arises once more: "You have what you +desired. So lie here and be still, even though you should be condemned +to hear the nightingale's song until the end of the world." + +The song has grown much softer. + +Obviously the human steps that now encircle my grave with their sullen +resonance have driven the bird to a more distant bush. + +"Who may it be," I ask myself, "that thinks of wandering to my place +of rest on an evening of May when the nightingales are singing." + +And I listen anew. It sounds almost as though some one up there were +weeping. + +Did I not go my earthly road lonely and unloved? Did I not die in the +house of a stranger? Was I not huddled away in the earth by strangers? +Who is it that comes to weep at my grave? + +And each one of the tears that is shed above there falls glowing upon +my breast.... + +And my breast rises in a convulsive struggle but the coffin lid pushes +it back. I strain my head against the wood to burst it, but it lies +upon me like a mountain. My body seems to burn. To protect it I burrow +in the saw-dust which fills mouth and eyes with its biting chaff. + +I try to cry out but my throat is paralysed. + +I want to pray but instead of thoughts the lightnings of madness shoot +through my brain. + +I feel only one thing that threatens to dissolve all my body into a +stream of flame and that penetrates my whole being with immeasurable +might: "I must live ... live...!" + +There, in my sorest need, I think of the faery who upon my desire +brought me by magic to my grave. + +"Thea, I beseech you. I have sinned against the world and myself. It +was cowardly and slothful to doubt of life so long as a spark of life +and power glowed in my veins. Let me arise, I beseech you, from the +torments of hell--let me arise!" + +And behold: the boards of the coffin fall from me like a wornout +garment. The earth rolls down on both sides of me and unites beneath +me in order to raise my body. + +I open my eyes and perceive myself to be lying in dark grass. Through +the bent limbs of trees the grave stars look down upon me. The black +crosses stand in the evening glow, and past the railings of +grave-plots my eyes blink out into the blossoming world. + +The crickets chirp about me in the grass, and the nightingale begins +to sing anew. + +Half dazed I pull myself together. + +Waves of fragrance and melting shadows extend into the distance. + +Suddenly I see next to me on the grave mound a crouching gray figure. +Between a veil tossed back I see a countenance, pallid and lovely, +with smooth dark hair and a madonna-like face. About the softly +smiling mouth is an expression of gentle loftiness such as is seen in +those martyrs who joyfully bleed to death from the mightiness of +their love. + +Her eyes look down upon me in smiling peace, clear and soulful, the +measure of all goodness, the mirror of all beauty. + +I know the dark gleam of those eyes, I know that gray, soft veil, I +know that poor sick hand, white as a blossom, that leans upon +a crutch. + +It is she, my faery, whose tears have awakened me from the dead. + +All my defiance vanishes. + +I lie upon the earth before her and kiss the hem of her garment. + +And she inclines her head and stretches her hand out to me. + +With the help of that hand I arise. + +Holding this poor, sick hand, I stride joyfully back into life. + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +I sought my faery and I found her not. + +I sought her upon the flowery fields of the South and on the ragged +moors of the Northland; in the eternal snow of Alpine ridges and in +the black folds of the nether earth; in the iridescent glitter of the +boulevard and in the sounding desolation of the sea.... And I +found her not. + +I sought her amid the tobacco smoke and the cheap applause of popular +assemblies and on the vanity fair of the professional social patron; +in the brilliance of glittering feasts I sought her and in the twilit +silence of domestic comfort.... And I found her not. + +My eye thirsted for the sight of her but in my memory there was no +mark by which I could have recognised her. Each image of her was +confused and obliterated by the screaming colours of a new epoch. + +Good and evil in a thousand shapes had come between me and my faery. +And the evil had grown into good for me, the good into evil. + +But the sum of evil was greater than the sum of good. I bent low +under the burden, and for a long space my eyes saw nothing but the +ground to which I clung. + +And therefore did I need my faery. + +I needed her as a slave needs liberation, as the master needs a higher +master, as the man of faith needs heaven. + +In her I sought my resurrection, my strength to live, my defiant +illusion. + +And therefore was I famished for her. + +My ear listened to all the confusing noises that were about me, but +the voice of my faery was not among them. My hand groped after alien +hands, but the faery hand was not among them. Nor would I have +recognised it. + +And then I went in quest of her to all the ends of the earth. + +First I went to a philosopher. + +"You know everything, wise man," I said, "can you tell me how I may +find my faery again?" + +The philosopher put the tips of his five outstretched fingers against +his vaulted forehead and, having meditated a while, said: "You must +seek, through pure intuition, to grasp all the conceptual essence of +the being of the object sought for. Therefore withdraw into yourself +and listen to the voice of your mind." I did as I was told. But the +rushing of the blood in the shells of my ears affrighted me. It +drowned every other voice. + +Next I went to a very clever physician and asked him the same +question. + +The physician who was about to invent an artificially digested porridge +in order to save the modern stomach any exertion, let his spoon fall +for a moment and said: "You must take only such foods as will tend to +add phosphorous matter to the brain. The answer to your question will +then come of itself." + +I followed his directions but instead of my faery a number of +confusing images presented themselves. I saw in the hearts of those +who were about me faery gardens and infernos, deserts and turnip +fields; I saw a comically hopping rainworm who was nibbling at a +graceful centipede; I saw a world in which darkness was lord. I saw +much else and was frightened at the images. + +Then I went to a clergyman and put my question to him. + +The pious man comfortably lit his pipe and said: "You will find no +faeries mentioned in the catechism, my friend. Hence there are none, +and it is sin to seek them. But perhaps you can help me bring back the +devil into the world, the old, authentic devil with tail and horns and +sulphurous stench. He really exists and we need him." + +After I had made inquiry of a learned jurist who advised me to have my +faery located by the police, I went to one of my colleagues, a poet of +the classic school. + +I found him clad in a red silk dressing gown, a wet handkerchief tied +around his forehead. Its purpose was to keep his all too stormy wealth +of inspiration in check. Before him on the table stood a glassful of +Malaga wine and a silver salver full of pomegranates and grapes. The +grapes were made of glass and the pomegranates of soap. But the +contemplation of them was meant to heighten his mood. Near him, nailed +to the floor, stood a golden harp on which was hung a laurel wreath +and a nightcap. + +Timidly I put my question and the honoured master spoke: "The muse, my +worthy friend--ask the muse. Ask the muse who leads us poor children +of the dust into the divine sanctuary; carried aloft by whose wings +into the heights of ether we feel truly human--ask her!" + +As it would have been necessary for me, first of all, to look up this +unknown lady, I went to another colleague--one of the modern +seekers of truth. + +I found him at his desk peering through a microscope at a dying flee +which he was studying carefully. He noted each of its movements upon +the slips of paper from which he later constructed his works. Next to +him stood some bread and cheese, a little bottle full of ether and a +box of powders. + +When I had explained my business he grew very angry. + +"Man, don't bother me with such rot!" he cried. "Faeries and elves and +ideas and the devil knows what--that's all played out. That's worse +than iambics. Go hang, you idiot, and don't disturb me." + +Sad at seeing myself and my faery so contemned, I crept away and went +to one of those modern artists in life, who had tasted with epicurean +fineness all the esctasies and sorrows of earthly life in order to +broaden his personality.... I hoped that he would understand me, too. + +I found him lying on a _chaise longue_, smoking a cigarette, and +turning the leaves of a French novel. It was _La-bas_ by Huysmans, and +he didn't even cut the leaves, being too lazy. + +He heard my question with an obliging smile. "Dear friend, let's be +honest. The thing is simple. A faery is a woman. That is certain. +Well, take up with every woman that runs into your arms. Love them +all--one after another. You'll be sure then to hit upon your faery +some day." + +As I feared that to follow this advice I would have to waste the +better part of my life and all my conscience, I chose a last and +desperate method and went to a magician. + +If Manfred had forced Astarte back into being, though only for a +fleeting moment, why could I not do the same with the dear ruler of my +higher will? + +I found a dignified man with the eyes of an enthusiast and filthy +locks. He was badly in need of a change of linen. And so I had every +reason to consider him an idealist. + +He talked a good real of "Karma," of "materialisations" and of the +"plurality of spheres." He used many other strange words by means of +which he made it clear to me that my faery would reveal herself to me +only by his help. + +With beating heart I entered a dark room at the appointed hour. The +magician led me in. + +A soft, mysterious music floated toward me. I was left alone, pressed +to the door, awaiting the things that were to come in breathless fear. + +Suddenly, as I was waiting in the darkness, a gleaming, bluish needle +protruded from the floor. It grew to rings and became a snake which +breathed forth flames and dissolved into flame ... And the tongues of +these flames played on all sides and finally parted in curves like the +leaves of an opening lotus flower, out of whose calix white veils +arose slowly, very slowly, and became as they glided upward the +garments of a woman who looked at me, who was lashed by fear, with +sightless eyes. + +"Are you Thea?" I asked trembling. + +The veils inclined in affirmation. + +"Where do you dwell?" + +The veils waved, shaken by the trembling limbs. + +"Ask me after other things," a muffled voice said. + +"Why do you no longer appear to me?" + +"I may not." + +"Who hinders you?" + +"You." ... + +"By what? Am I unworthy of you?" + +"Yes." + +In deep contrition I was about to fall at her feet. But, coming +nearer, I perceived that my faery's breath smelled of onions. + +This circumstance sobered me a bit, for I don't like onions. + +I knocked at the locked door, paid my magician what I owed him and +went my way. + +From now on all hope of ever seeing her again vanished. But my soul +cried out after her. And the world receded from me. Its figures +dislimned into things that have been, its noise did not thunder at my +threshold. A solitariness half voluntary and half enforced dragged its +steps through my house. Only a few, the intimates of my heart and +brothers of my blood, surrounded my life with peace and kept watch +without my doors. + + * * * * * + +It was a late afternoon near Advent Sunday. + +But no message of Christmas came to my yearning soul. + +Somewhere, like a discarded toy, lay amid rubbish the motive power of +my passions. My heart was dumb, my hand nerveless, and even need--that +last incentive--had slackened to a wild memory. + +The world was white with frost.... The dust of ice and the rain of +star-light filled the world... cloths of glittering white covered the +plains.... The bare twigs of the trees stretched upwards like staves +of coral.... The fir trees trembled like spun glass. + +A red sunset spread its reflection over all. But the sunset itself was +poverty stricken. No purple lights, no gleam of seven colours warmed +the whiteness of the world. Not like the gentle farewell of the sun +but cruel as the threat of paralysing night did the bloody stripe +stare through my window. + +It is the hour of afternoon tea. The regulations of the house demand +that. + +Grayish blue steam whirls up to the shadowed ceiling and moistens with +falling drops the rounded silver of the tea urn. + +The bell rings. + +From the housekeeper's rooms floats an odour of fresh baked breads. +They are having a feast there. Perhaps they mean to prepare one for +the master, too. + +A new book that has come a great distance to-day is in my hand. + +I read. Another one has made the great discovery that the world begins +with him. + +Ah, did it not once begin with me, too? + +To be young, to be young! Ah, even if one suffers need--only to be +young! + +But who, after all, would care to retrace the difficult road? + +Perhaps you, O woman at my side? + +I would wager that even you would not. + +And I raise a questioning glance though I know her to be far ... and +who stands behind the kettle, framed by the rising of the +bluish steam? + +Ah child, have I not seen you often--you with the brownish locks and +the dark lashes over blue eyes ... you with the bird-like twitter in +the throbbing whiteness of your throat, and the light-hearted step? + +And yet, did I ever see you? Did I ever see that look which surrounds +me with its ripe wisdom and guesses the secrets of my heart? Did I +ever see that mouth so rich and firm at once which smiles upon me full +of reticent consolation and alluring comprehension? + +Who are you, child, that you dare to look me through and through, as +though I had laid my confidence at your feet? Who are you that you +dare to descend wingless into the abysms of my soul, that you can +smile away my torture and my suffocation? + +Why did you not come earlier in your authentic form? Why did you not +come as all that which you are to me and will be from this hour on? + +Why do you hide yourself in the mist which renders my recognition +turbid and shadows your outlines? + +Come to me, for you are she whom I seek, for whom my heart's blood +yearns in order to flow as sacrifice and triumph! + +You are the faery who clarifies my eye and steels my will, who brings +to me upon her young hands my own youth! Come to me and do not leave +me again as you have so often left me! + +I start up to stretch out my arms to her and see how her glance +becomes estranged and her smile as of stone. As one who is asleep with +open eyes, thus she stands there and stares past me. + +I try to find her, to clasp her, to force her spirit to see me. +Without repulsing me she glides softly from me.... The walls open. ... +The stones of the stairs break.... We flee out into the wintry +silence.... + +She glides before me over the pallid velvet of the road ... over the +tinkling glass of the frozen heath ... through the glittering boughs. +She smiles--for whom? + +The hilly fields, hardened by the frost, the bushes scattering +ice--everything obstructs my way. I break through and follow her. + +But she glides on before me, scarcely a foot above the ground, but +farther, farther ... over the broken earth, down the precipice ... to +the lake whose bluish surface of new ice melts in the distance into +the afterglow. + +Now she hangs over the bank like a cloud of smoke, and the wind that +blows upon my back, raises the edges of her dress like triangular +pennants. "Stay, Thea.... I cannot follow you across the lake! ... +The water will not upbear a mortal."... + +But the rising wind pushes her irresistibly on. + +Now I stand as the edge of the lake. The thin ice forces upward great +hollow bubbles.... + +Will it suffer my groping feet? Will it break and whelm me in brackish +water and morass? + +There is no room for hesitation. For already the wind is sweeping her +afar. + +And I venture out upon the glassy floor which is no floor at all, but +which a brief frost threw as a deceptive mirror across the deep. + +It bears me up for five paces, for six, for ten. Then suddenly the cry +of harps is in my ear and something like an earthquake quivers through +my limbs. And this sound grows into a mighty crunching and waxes into +thunder which sounds afar and returns from the distance in echoing +detonation. + +But at my left hand glitters a cleft which furrows the ice with +manicoloured splinters and runs from me into the invisible. + +What is to be done? On... on...! + +And again the harps cry out and a great rattling flies forth and +returns as thunder. And again a great cleft opens its brilliant hues +at my side. On, on ... to seek her smiling, even though the smile is +not for me. It will be for me if only I can grasp the hem of +her garment. + +A third cleft opens; a fourth crosses it, uniting it to the first. + +I must cross. But I dare not jump, for the ice must not crumble lest +an abysm open at my feet. + +It is no longer a sheet of ice upon which I travel--it is a net-work +of clefts. Between them lies something blue and all but invisible that +bears me by the merest chance. I can see the tangled water grasses +wind about and the polished fishes dart whom my body will feed unless +a miracle happens. + +Lit by the gathering afterglow a plain of fire stretches out before +me, and far on the horizon the saving shore looms dark. + +Farther ... farther! + +Sinister and deceptive springs arise to my right and left and hurl +their waters across my path.... A soft gurgling is heard and at last +drowns the resonant sound of thunder. + +Farther, farther.... Mere life is at stake. + +There in the distance a cloud dislimns which but now lured me to death +with its girlish smile. What do I care now? + +The struggle endures for eternities. The wind drives me on. I avoid +the clefts, wade through the springs; I measure the distances, for now +I have to jump.... The depths are yawning about me. + +The ice under my feet begins to rock. It rocks like a cradle, heaving +and falling at every step ... It would be a charming game were it not +a game with death. + +My breath comes flying ... my heart-beats throttle me ... sparks +quiver before my eyes. + +Let me rock ... rock ... rock back to the dark sources of being. + +A springing fountain, higher than all the others, hisses up before +me.... Edges and clods rise into points. + +One spring ... the last of all ... hopeless ... inspired by the +desperate will to live. + +Ah, what is that? + +Is that not the goodly earth beneath my feet--the black, hard, stable +earth? + +It is but a tiny islet formed of frozen mud and roots; it is scarcely +two paces across, but large enough to give security to my +sinking body. + +I am ashore, saved, for only a few arm lengths from me arises the +reedy line of the shore. + +A drove of wild ducks rises in diagonal flight. ... Purple radiance +pours through the twigs of trees.... From nocturnal heavens the first +stars shine upon me. + +The ghostly game is over! The faery hunt is as an end. + +One truth I realise: He who has firm ground under his feet needs no +faeries. + +And serenely I stride into the sunset world. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Lily and Other Stories +by Hermann Sudermann + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + +This file should be named 7lily10.txt or 7lily10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7lily11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7lily10a.txt + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Indian Lily and Other Stories + +Author: Hermann Sudermann + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9994] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 6, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +AND OTHER STORIES + + + + +BY + +HERMANN SUDERMANN + + + + +TRANSLATED BY + +LUDWIG LEWISOHN, M.A. + + + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE INDIAN LILY + +THE PURPOSE + +THE SONG OF DEATH + +THE VICTIM + +AUTUMN + +MERRY FOLK + +THEA + + + + + +THE INDIAN LILY + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was seven o'clock in the morning when Herr von Niebeldingk opened +the iron gate and stepped into the front garden whose wall of +blossoming bushes separated the house from the street. + +The sun of a May morning tinted the greyish walls with gold, and +caused the open window-panes to flash with flame. + +The master directed a brief glance at the second story whence floated +the dull sound of the carpet-beater. He thrust the key rapidly into +the keyhole for a desire stirred in him to slip past the porter's +lodge unobserved. + +"I seem almost to be--ashamed!" he murmured with a smile of +self-derision as a similar impulse overcame him in front of the +house door. + +But John, his man--a dignified person of fifty--had observed his +approach and stood in the opening door. The servant's mutton-chop +whiskers and admirably silvered front-lock contrasted with a repressed +reproach that hovered between his brows. He bowed deeply. + +"I was delayed," said Herr von Niebeldingk, in order to say something +and was vexed because this sentence sounded almost like an excuse. + +"Do you desire to go to bed, captain, or would you prefer a bath?" + +"A bath," the master responded. "I have slept elsewhere." + +That sounded almost like another excuse. + +"I'm obviously out of practice," he reflected as he entered the +breakfast-room where the silver samovar steamed among the dishes of +old Sèvres. + +He stepped in front of the mirror and regarded himself--not with the +forbearance of a friend but the keen scrutiny of a critic. + +"Yellow, yellow...." He shook his head. "I must apply a curb to my +feelings." + +Upon the whole, however, he had reason to be fairly satisfied with +himself. His figure, despite the approach of his fortieth year, had +remained slender and elastic. The sternly chiselled face, surrounded +by a short, half-pointed beard, showed neither flabbiness nor bloat. +It was only around the dark, weary eyes that the experiences of the +past night had laid a net-work of wrinkles and shadows. Ten years +ago pleasure had driven the hair from his temples, but it grew +energetically upon his crown and rose, above his forehead, in a +Mephistophelian curve. + +The civilian's costume which often lends retired officers a guise of +excessive spick-and-spanness had gradually combined with an easier +bearing to give his figure a natural elegance. To be sure, six years +had passed since, displeased by a nagging major, he had definitely +hung up the dragoon's coat of blue. + +He was wealthy enough to have been able to indulge in the luxury of +that displeasure. In addition his estates demanded more rigorous +management.... From Christmas to late spring he lived in Berlin, where +his older brother occupied one of those positions at court that mean +little enough either to superior or inferior ranks, but which, in a +certain social set dependent upon the court, have an influence of +inestimable value. Without assuming the part of either a social lion +or a patron, he used this influence with sufficient thoroughness to be +popular, even, in certain cases, to be feared, and belonged to that +class of men to whom one always confides one's difficulties, never +one's wife. + +John came to announce to his master that the bath was ready. And while +Niebeldingk stretched himself lazily in the tepid water he let his +reflections glide serenely about the delightful occurrence of the +past night. + +That occurrence had been due for six months, but opportunity had been +lacking. "I am closely watched and well-known," she had told him, "and +dare not go on secret errands." ... Now at last their chance had come +and had been used with clever circumspectness.... Somewhere on the +Polish boundary lived one of her cousins to whose wedding she was +permitted to travel alone.... She had planned to arrive in Berlin +unannounced and, instead of taking the morning train from Eydtkuhnen, +to take the train of the previous evening. Thus a night was gained +whose history had no necessary place in any family chronicle and the +memories of which could, if need were, be obliterated from one's own +consciousness.... Her arrival and departure had caused a few moments +of really needless anxiety. That was all. No acquaintance had run into +them, no waiter had intimated any suspicion, the very cabby who drove +them through the dawn had preserved his stupid lack of expression when +Niebeldingk suddenly sprang from the vehicle and permitted the lady to +be driven on alone.... + +Before his eyes stood her picture--as he had seen her lying during the +night in his arms, fevered with anxiety and rapture ... Ordinarily +her eyes were large and serene, almost drowsy.... The night had proven +to him what a glow could be kindled in them. Whether her broad brows, +growing together over the nose, could be regarded as a beautiful +feature--that was an open question. He liked them--so much +was certain. + +"Thank heaven," he thought. "At last, once more--a _woman_." + +And he thought of another who for three years had been allied to him +by bonds of the tenderest intimacy and whom he had this +night betrayed. + +"Between us," he consoled himself, "things will remain as they have +been, and I can enjoy my liberty." + +He sprayed his body with the icy water of the douche and rang for John +who stood outside of the door with a bath-robe. + +When, ten minutes later, shivering comfortably, he entered the +breakfast-room, he found beside his cup a little heap of letters which +the morning post had brought. There were two letters that gripped his +attention. + +One read: + +"Berlin N., Philippstrasse 10 a. + +DEAR HERR VON NIEBELDINGK:-- + +For the past week I have been in Berlin studying agriculture, since, +as you know, I am to take charge of the estate. Papa made me promise +faithfully to look you up immediately after my arrival. It is merely +due to the respect I owe you that I haven't kept my promise. As I know +that you won't tell Papa I might as well confess to you that I've +scarcely been sober the whole week.--Oh, Berlin is a deuce of a place! + +If you don't object I will drop in at noon to-morrow and convey Papa's +greetings to you. Papa is again afflicted with the gout. + +With warm regards, + +Your very faithful + +FRITZ VON EHRENBERG." + +The other letter was from ... her--clear, serene, full of such +literary reminiscences as always dwelt in her busy little head. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +I wouldn't ask you: Why do I not see you?--you have not called for +five days--I would wait quietly till your steps led you hither without +persuasion or compulsion; but 'every animal loves itself' as the old +gossip Cicero says, and I feel a desire to chat with you. + +I have never believed, to be sure, that we would remain indispensable +to each other. '_Racine passera comme le café_,' Mme. de Sévigné says +somewhere, but I would never have dreamed that we would see so little +of each other before the inevitable end of all things. + +You know the proverb: even old iron hates to rust, and I'm only +twenty-five. + +Come once again, dear Master, if you care to. I have an excellent +cigarette for you--Blum Pasha. I smoke a little myself now and then, +but _c'est plus fort que moi_ and ends in head-ache. + +Joko has at last learned to say 'Richard.' He trills the _r_ +cunningly. He knows that he has little need to be jealous. + +Good-bye! + +ALICE." + +He laughed and brought forth her picture which stood, framed and +glazed, upon his desk. A delicate, slender figure--"_blonde comme les +blés_"--with bluish grey, eager eyes and a mocking expression of the +lips--it was she herself, she who had made the last years of his life +truly livable and whose fate he administered rather than ruled. + +She was the wife of a wealthy mine-owner whose estates abutted on his +and with whom an old friendship, founded on common sports, +connected him. + +One day, suspecting nothing, Niebeldingk entered the man's house and +found him dragging his young wife from room to room by the hair.... +Niebeldingk interfered and felt, in return, the lash of a whip.... +Time and place had been decided upon when the man's physician forbade +the duel.... He had been long suspected, but no certain symptoms had +been alleged, since the brave little woman revealed nothing of the +frightful inwardness of her married life.... Three days later he was +definitely sent to a sanitarium. But between Niebeldingk and Alice the +memory of that last hour of suffering soon wove a thousand threads of +helplessness and pity into the web of love. + +As she had long lost her parents and as she was quite defenceless +against her husband's hostile guardians, the care of her interests +devolved naturally upon him.... He released her from troublesome +obligations and directed her demands toward a safe goal.... Then, very +tenderly, he lifted her with all the roots of her being from the old, +poverty-stricken soil of her earlier years and transplanted her to +Berlin where, by the help of his brother's wife--still gently pressing +on and smoothing the way himself--he created a new way of life +for her. + +In a villa, hidden by foliage from Lake Constance, her husband slowly +drowsed toward dissolution. She herself ripened in the sharp air of +the capital and grew almost into another woman in this banal, +disillusioned world, sober even in its intoxication. + +Of society, from whose official section her fate as well as her +commoner's name separated her, she saw just enough to feel the +influence of the essential conceptions that governed it. + +She lost diffidence and awkwardness, she became a woman of the world +and a connoisseur of life. She learned to condemn one day what she +forgave the next, she learned to laugh over nothing and to grieve over +nothing and to be indignant over nothing. + +But what surprised Niebeldingk more than these small adaptations to +the omnipotent spirit of her new environment, was the deep revolution +experienced by her innermost being. + +She had been a clinging, self-effacing, timid soul. Within three years +she became a determined and calculating little person who lacked +nothing but a certain fixedness to be a complete character. + +A strange coldness of the heart now emanated from her and this was +strengthened by precipitate and often unkindly judgment, supported in +its turn by a desire to catch her own reflection in all things and to +adopt witty points of view. + +Nor was this all. She acquired a desire to learn, which at first +stimulated and amused Niebeldingk, but which had long grown to be +something of a nuisance. + +He himself was held, and rightly held, to be a man of intellect, less +by virtue of rapid perception and flexible thought, than by virtue of +a coolly observant vision of the world, incapable of being confused--a +certain healthy cynicism which, though it never lost an element of +good nature, might yet abash and even chill the souls of men. + +His actual knowledge, however, had remained mere wretched patchwork, +his logic came to an end wherever bold reliance upon the intuitive +process was needed to supply missing links in the ratiocinative chain. + +And so it came to pass that Alice, whom at first he had regarded as +his scholar, his handiwork, his creature, had developed annoyingly +beyond him.... Involuntarily and innocently she delivered the keenest +thrusts. He had, actually, to be on guard.... In the irresponsible +delight of intellectual crudity she solved the deepest problems of +humanity; she repeated, full of faith, the judgments of the ephemeral +rapid writer, instead of venturing upon the sources of knowledge. Yet +even so she impressed him by her faculty of adaptation and her shining +zeal. He was often silenced, for his slow moving mind could not follow +the vagaries of that rapid little brain. + +What would she be at again to-day? "The old gossip Cicero...." And, +"Mme. de Sévigné remarks...." What a rattling and tinkling. It +provoked him. + +And her love! ... That was a bad business. What is one to do with a +mistress who, before falling asleep, is capable of lecturing on +Schopenhauer's metaphysics of sex, and will prove to you up to the +hilt how unworthy it really is to permit oneself to be duped by nature +if one does not share her aim for the generations to come? + +The man is still to be born upon whom such wisdom, uttered at such an +hour--by lips however sweet--does not cast a chill. + +Since that philosophical night he had left untouched the little key +that hung yonder over his desk and that give him, in her house, the +sacred privileges of a husband. And so his life became once more a +hunt after new women who filled his heart with unrest and with the +foolish fires of youth. + +But Alice had never been angry at him. Apparently she lacked +nothing.... + +And his thoughts wandered from her to the woman who had lain against +his breast to-night, shuddering in her stolen joy. + +Heavens! He had almost forgotten one thing! + +He summoned John and said: + +"Go to the florist and order a bunch of Indian lilies. The man knows +what I mean. If he hasn't any, let him procure some by noon." + +John did not move a muscle, but heaven only knew whether he did not +suspect the connection between the Indian lilies and the romance of +the past night. It was in his power to adduce precedents. + +It was an old custom of Niebeldingk's--a remnant of his half out-lived +Don Juan years--to send a bunch of Indian lilies to those women who +had granted him their supreme favours. He always sent the flowers next +morning. Their symbolism was plain and delicate: In spite of what has +taken place you are as lofty and as sacred in my eyes as these pallid, +alien flowers whose home is beside the Ganges. Therefore have the +kindness--not to annoy me with remorse. + +It was a delicate action and--a cynical one. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +At noon--Niebeldingk had just returned from his morning canter--the +visitor, previously announced, was ushered in. + +He was a robust young fellow, long of limb and broad of shoulder. His +face was round and tanned, with hot, dark eyes. With merry boldness, +yet not without diffidence, he sidled, in his blue cheviot suit, +into the room. + +"Morning, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +Enviously and admiringly Niebeldingk surveyed the athletic figure +which moved with springy grace. + +"Morning, my boy ... sober?" + +"In honour of the day, yes." + +"Shall we breakfast?" + +"Oh, with delight, Herr von Niebeldingk!" + +They passed into the breakfast-room where two covers had already been +laid, and while John served the caviare the flood of news burst which +had mounted in their Franconian home during the past months. + +Three betrothals, two important transfers of land, a wedding, Papa's +gout, Mama's charities, Jenny's new target, Grete's flirtation with +the American engineer. And, above all things, the examination! + +"Dear Herr von Niebeldingk, it's a rotten farce. For nine years the +gymnasium trains you and drills you, and in the end you don't get your +trouble's worth! I'm sorry for every hour of cramming I did. They +released me from the oral exam., simply sent me out like a monkey when +I was just beginning to let my light shine! Did you ever hear of such +a thing? _Did_ you ever?" + +"Well, and how about your university work, Fritz?" + +That was a ticklish business, the youth averred. Law and political +science was no use. Every ass took that up. And since it was after all +only his purpose to pass a few years of his green youth profitably, +why he thought he'd stick to his trade and find out how to plant +cabbages properly. + +"Have you started in anywhere yet?" + +Oh, there was time enough. But he had been to some lectures--agronomy +and inorganic chemistry.... You have to begin with inorganic chemistry +if you want to go in for organic. And the latter was agricultural +chemistry which was what concerned him. + +He made these instructive remarks with a serious air and poured down +glass after glass of Madeira. His cheeks began to glow, his heart +expanded. "But that's all piffle, Herr von Niebeldingk, ... all this +book-worm business can go to the devil.... Life--life--life--that's +the main thing!" + +"What do you call life, Fritz?" + +With both hands he stroked the velvety surface of his close-cropped +skull. + +"Well, how am I to tell you? D'you know how I feel? As if I were +standing in front of a great, closed garden ... and I know that all +Paradise is inside ... and occasionally a strain of music floats out +... and occasionally a white garment glitters ... and I'd like to get +in and I can't. That's life, you see. And I've got to stand +miserably outside?" + +"Well, you don't impress me as such a miserable creature?" + +"No, no, in a way, not. On the coarser side, so to speak, I have a +good deal of fun. Out there around _Philippstrasse_ and +_Marienstrasse_ there are women enough--stylish and fine-looking and +everything you want. And my friends are great fellows, too. Every one +can stand his fifteen glasses ... I suppose I am an ass, and perhaps +it's only moral _katzenjammer_ on account of this past week. But when +I walk the streets and see the tall, distinguished houses and think of +all those people and their lives, yonder a millionaire, here a +minister of state, and think that, once upon a time, they were all +crude boys like myself--well, then I have the feeling as if I'd never +attain anything, but always remain what I am." + +"Well, my dear Fritz, the only remedy for that lies in that 'book-worm +business' as you call it. Sit down on your breeches and work!" + +"No, Herr von Niebeldingk, it isn't that either ... let me tell you. +Day before yesterday I was at the opera.... They sang the +_Götterddmmerung_.... You know, of course. There is _Siegfried_, a +fellow like myself, ... not more than twenty ... I sat upstairs in the +third row with two seamstresses. I'd picked them up in the +_Chausseestrasse_--cute little beasts, too.... But when _Brunhilde_ +stretched out her wonderful, white arms to him and sang: 'On to new +deeds, O hero!' why I felt like taking the two girls by the scruff of +the neck and pitching them down into the pit, I was so ashamed. +Because, you see, _Siegfried_ had his _Brunhilde_ who inspired him to +do great deeds. And what have I? ... A couple of hard cases picked up +in the street." + +"Afterwards, I suppose, you felt more reconciled?" + +"That shows how little you know me. I'd promised the girls supper. So +I had to eat with them. But when that was over I let 'em slide. I +ran about in the streets and just--howled!" + +"Very well, but what exactly are you after?" + +"That's what I don't know, Herr von Niebeldingk. Oh, if I knew! But +it's something quite indefinite--hard to think, hard to comprehend. +I'd like to howl with laughter and I don't know why ... to shriek, and +I don't know what about." + +"Blessed youth!" Niebeldingk thought, and looked at the enthusiastic +boy full of emotion. ... + +John, who was serving, announced that the florist's girl had come with +the Indian lilies. + +"Indian lilies, what sort of lilies are they?" asked Fritz overcome by +a hesitant admiration. + +"You'll see," Niebeldingk answered and ordered the girl to be +admitted. + +She struggled through the door, a half-grown thing with plump red +cheeks and smooth yellow hair. Diffident and frightened, she +nevertheless began to flirt with Fritz. In front of her she held the +long stems of the exotic lilies whose blossoms, like gigantic +narcissi, brooded in star-like rest over chaste and alien dreams. From +the middle of each chalice came a sharp, green shimmer which faded +gently along the petals of the flowers. + +"Confound it, but they're beautiful!" cried Fritz. "Surely they have +quite a peculiar significance." + +Niebeldingk arose, wrote the address without permitting John, who +stood in suspicious proximity, to throw a glance at it, handed cards +and flowers to the girl, gave her a tip, and escorted her to the +door himself. + +"So they do mean something special?" Fritz asked eagerly. He couldn't +get over his enthusiasm. + +"Yes, my boy." + +"And may one know...." + +"Surely, one may know. I give these lilies to that lady whose lofty +purity transcends all doubt--I give them as a symbol of my chaste and +desireless admiration." + +Fritz's eyes shone. + +"Ah, but I'd like to know a lady like that--some day!" he cried and +pressed his hands to his forehead. + +"That will come! That will come!" Niebeldingk tapped the youth's +shoulder calmingly. + +"Will you have some salad?" + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Around the hour of afternoon tea Niebeldingk, true to a dear, old +habit, went to see his friend. + +She inhabited a small second-floor apartment in the _Regentenstrasse_ +which he had himself selected for her when she came as a stranger to +Berlin. With flowers and palms and oriental rugs she had moulded a +delicious retreat, and before her bed-room windows the nightingales +sang in the springtime. + +She seemed to be expecting him. In the great, raised bay, separated +from the rest of the drawing-room by a thicket of dark leaves, the +stout tea-urn was already expectantly humming. + +In a bright, girlish dress, devoid of coquetry or pouting, Alice came +to meet him. + +"I'm glad you're here again, Richard." + +That was all. + +He wanted to launch out into the tale which he had meant to tell her, +but she cut him short. + +"Since when do I demand excuses, Richard? You come and there you are. +And if you don't come, I have to be content too." "You should really +be a little less tolerant," he warned her. + +"A blessed lot it would help me," she answered merrily. + +Gently she took his arm and led him to his old place. Then silently, +and with that restrained eagerness that characterised all her actions +she busied herself with the tea-urn. + +His critical and discriminating gaze followed her movements. With +swift, delicate gestures she pushed forward the Chinese dish, shook +the tea from the canister and poured the first drops of boiling water +through a sieve.... Her quick, bird-like head moved hither and +thither, and the bow of the orange-coloured ribbon which surrounded +her over-delicate neck trembled a little with every motion. + +"She really is the most charming of all," such was the end of his +reflections, "if only she weren't so damnably sensible." + +Silently she took her seat opposite him, folded her white hands in her +lap, and looked into his eyes with such significant archness that he +began to feel embarrassed. + +Had she any suspicion of his infidelities? + +Surely not. No jealous woman can look about her so calmly and +serenely. + +"What have you been doing all this time?" he asked. + +"I? Good heavens! Look about you and you'll see." + +She pointed to a heap of books which lay scattered over the window +seat and sewing table. + +There were Moltke's letters and the memoirs of von Schön, and Max +Müller's Aryan studies. Nor was the inevitable Schopenhauer lacking. + +"What are you after with all that learning?" he asked. + +"Ah, dear friend, what is one to do? One can't always be going about +in strange houses. Do you expect me to stand at the window and watch +the clouds float over the old city-wall?" + +He had the uncomfortable impression that she was quoting something +again. + +"My mood," she went on, "is in what Goethe calls the minor of the +soul. It is the yearning that reaches out afar and yet restrains +itself harmoniously within itself. Isn't that beautifully put?" + +"It may be, but it's too high for me!" In laughing self-protection, he +stretched out his arms toward her. + +"Don't make fun of me," she said, slightly shamed, and arose. + +"And what is the object of your yearning?" he asked in order to leave +the realm of Goethe as swiftly as possible. "Not you, you horrible +person," she answered and, for a moment, touched his hair with +her lips. + +"I know that, dearest," he said, "it's a long time since you've sent +me two notes a day." + +"And since you came to see me twice daily," she returned and gazed at +the floor with a sad irony. + +"We have both changed greatly, Alice." + +"We have indeed, Richard." + +A silence ensued. + +His eyes wandered to the opposite wall.... His own picture, framed in +silvery maple-wood, hung there.... Behind the frame appeared a bunch +of blossoms, long faded and shrivelled to a brownish, indistinguishable +heap. + +These two alone knew the significance of the flowers.... + +"Were you at least happy in those days, Alice?" + +"You know I am always happy, Richard." + +"Oh yes, yes; I know your philosophy. But I meant happy with me, +through me?" + +She stroked her delicate nose thoughtfully. The mocking expression +about the corners of her mouth became accentuated. + +"I hardly think so, Richard," she said after an interval. "I was too +much afraid of you ... I seemed so stupid in comparison to you and I +feared that you would despise me." "That fear, at least, you have +overcome very thoroughly?" he asked. + +"Not wholly, Richard. Things have only shifted their basis. Just as, +in those days, I felt ashamed of my ignorance, so now I feel +ashamed--no, that isn't the right word.... But all this stuff that I +store up in my head seems to weigh upon me in my relations with you. I +seem to be a nuisance with it.... You men, especially mature men like +yourself, seem to know all these things better, even when you don't +know them.... The precise form in which a given thought is presented +to us may be new to you, but the thought itself you have long +digested. It's for this reason that I feel intimidated whenever I +approach you with my pursuits. 'You might better have held your +peace,' I say to myself. But what am I to do? I'm so profoundly +interested!" + +"So you really need the society of a rather stupid fellow, one to whom +all this is new and who will furnish a grateful audience?" + +"Stupid? No," she answered, "but he ought to be inexperienced. He +ought himself to want to learn things.... He ought not to assume a +compassionate expression as who should say: 'Ah, my dear child, if you +knew what I know, and how indifferent all those things are to me!' ... +For these things are not indifferent, Richard, not to me, at +least.... And for the sake of the joy I take in them, you ..." + +"Strange how she sees through me," he reflected, "I wonder she clings +to me as she does." + +And while he was trying to think of something that might help her, the +dear boy came into his mind who had to-day divulged to him the sorrows +of youth and whom the unconscious desire for a higher plane of life +had driven weeping through the streets. + +"I know of some one for you." + +Her expression was serious. + +"You know of some one for me," she repeated with painful +deliberateness. + +"Don't misunderstand me. It's a playfellow, a pupil--something in the +nature of a pastime, anything you will." + +He told her the story of _Siegfried_ and the two seamstresses. + +She laughed heartily. + +"I was afraid you wanted to be rid of me," she said, laying her +forehead for a few moments against his sleeve. + +"Shame on you," he said, carelessly stroking her hair. "But what do +you think? Shall I bring the young fellow?" + +"You may very well bring him," she answered. There was a look of pain +about her mouth. "Doesn't one even train young poodles?" + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Three days later, at the same hour of the afternoon, the student, +Fritz von Ehrenberg entered Niebeldingk's study. + +"I have summoned you, dear friend, because I want to introduce you to +a charming young woman," Niebeldingk said, arising from his desk. + +"Now?" Fritz asked, sharply taken aback. + +"Why not?" + +"Why, I'd have to get my--my afternoon coat first and fix myself up a +bit. What is the lady to think of me?" + +"I'll take care of that. Furthermore, you probably know her, at least +by reputation." + +He mentioned the name of her husband which was known far and wide in +their native province. + +Fritz knew the whole story. + +"Poor lady!" he said. "Papa and Mama have often felt sorry for her. I +suppose her husband is still living." + +Niebeldingk nodded. + +"People all said that you were going to marry her." + +"Is _that_ what people said?" "Yes, and Papa thought it would be a +piece of great good fortune." + +"For whom?" + +"I beg your pardon, I suppose that was tactless, Herr von +Niebeldingk." + +"It was, dear Fritz.--But don't worry about it, just come." + +The introduction went smoothly. Fritz behaved as became the son of a +good family, was respectful but not stiff, and answered her friendly +questions briefly and to the point. + +"He's no discredit to me," Niebeldingk thought. + +As for Alice, she treated her young guest with a smiling, motherly +care which was new in her and which filled Niebeldingk with quiet +pleasure.... On other occasions she had assumed toward young men a +tone of wise, faint interest which meant clearly: "I will exhaust your +possibilities and then drop you." To-day she showed a genuine sympathy +which, though its purpose may have been to test him the more sharply, +seemed yet to bear witness to the pure and free humanity of her soul. + +She asked him after his parental home and was charmed with his naïve +rapture at escaping the psychical atmosphere of the cradle-songs of +his mother's house. She was also pleased with his attitude toward his +younger brothers and sisters, equally devoid, as it was, of +exaggeration or condescension. Everything about him seemed to her +simple and sane and full of ardour after information and maturity. + +Niebeldingk sat quietly in his corner ready, at need, to smooth over +any outbreak of uncouth youthfulness. But there was no occasion. Fritz +confined himself within the limits of modest liberty and used his mind +vigorously but with devout respect and delighted obedience. Once only, +when the question of the necessity of authority came up, did he +go far. + +"I don't give a hang for any authority," he said. "Even the mild +compulsion of what are called high-bred manners may go to the +deuce for me!" + +Niebeldingk was about to interfere with some reconciling remark when +he observed, to his astonishment, that Alice who, as a rule, was +bitterly hostile to all strident unconventionality, had taken +no offence. + +"Let him be, Niebeldingk," she said. "As far as he is concerned he is, +doubtless, in the right. And nothing would be more shameful than if +society were already to begin to make a featureless model boy of him." + +"That will never be, I swear to you, dear lady," cried Fritz all aglow +and stretching out his hands to ward off imaginary chains. +Niebeldingk smiled and thought: "So much the better for him." Then he +lit a fresh cigarette. + +The conversation turned to learned things. Fritz, paraphrasing +Tacitus, vented his hatred of the Latin civilisations. Alice agreed +with him and quoted Mme. de Staël. Niebeldingk arose, quietly meeting +the reproachful glance of his beloved. + +Fritz jumped up simultaneously, but Niebeldingk laughingly pushed him +back into his seat. + +"You just stay," he said, "our dear friend is only too eager to +slaughter a few more peoples." + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When he dropped in at Alice's a few days later he found her sitting, +hot-cheeked and absorbed, over Strauss's _Life of Jesus_. + +"Just fancy," she said, holding up her forehead for his kiss, "that +young poodle of yours is making me take notice. He gives me +intellectual nuts to crack. It's strange how this young generation--" + +"I beg of you, Alice," he interrupted her, "you are only a very few +years his senior." + +"That may be so," she answered, "but the little education I have +derives from another epoch.... I am, metaphysically, as unexacting as +the people of your generation. A certain fogless freedom of thought +seemed to me until to-day the highest point of human development." + +"And Fritz von Ehrenberg, student of agriculture, has converted you to +a kind of thoughtful religiosity?" he asked, smiling good-naturedly. + +In her zeal she wasn't even aware of his irony. + +"We're not going to give in so easily.... But it is strange what an +impression is made on one by a current of strong and natural +feeling.... This young fellow comes to me and says: 'There is a God, +for I feel Him and I need Him. Prove the contrary if you can.' ... +Well, so I set about proving the contrary to him. But our poor +negations have become so glib that one has forgotten the reasons for +them. Finally he defeated me along the whole line ... so I sat down at +once and began to study up ... just as one would polish rusty weapons +... Bible criticism and DuBois-Reymond and 'Force and Matter' and all +the things that are traditionally irrefutable." + +"And that amuses you?" he asked compassionately. + +A theoretical indignation took hold of her that always amused him +greatly. + +"Does it amuse me? Are such things proper subjects for amusement? +Surely you must use other expressions, Richard, when one is concerned +for the most sacred goods of humanity...." + +"Forgive me," he said, "I didn't mean to touch those things +irreverently." + +She stroked his arm softly, thus dumbly asking forgiveness in her +turn. + +"But now," she continued, "I am equipped once more, and when he comes +to-morrow--" + +"So he's coming to-morrow?" + +"Naturally, ... then you will see how I'll send him home sorely +whipped ... I can defeat him with Kant's antinomies alone.... And +when it comes to what people call 'revelation,' well! ... But I assure +you, my dear one, I'm not very happy defending this icy, nagging +criticism.... To be quite sincere, I would far rather be on his side. +Warmth is there and feeling and something positive to support one. +Would you like some tea?" + +"Thanks, no, but some brandy." + +Rapidly brushing the waves of hair from her drawn forehead she ran +into the next room and returned with the bottle bearing three stars on +its label from which she herself took a tiny drop occasionally--"when +my mind loses tone for study" as she was wont to say in +self-justification. + +A crimson afterglow, reflected from the walls of the houses opposite, +filled the little drawing-room in which the mass of feminine ornaments +glimmered and glittered. + +"I've really become quite a stranger here," he thought, regarding all +these things with the curiosity of one who has come after an absence. +From each object hung, like a dewdrop, the memory of some +exquisite hour. + +"You look about you so," Alice said with an undertone of anxiety in +her voice, "don't you like it here any longer?" + +"What are you thinking of," he exclaimed, "I like it better daily." +She was about to reply but fell silent and looked into space with a +smile of wistful irony. + +"If I except the _Life of Jesus_ and the Kantian--what do you call the +things?" + +"Antinomies." + +"Aha--_anti_ and _nomos_--I understand--well, if I except these dusty +superfluities, I may say that your furnishings are really faultless. +The quotations from Goethe are really more appropriate, although I +could do without them." + +"I'll have them swept out," she said in playful submission. + +"You are a dear girl," he said playfully and passed his hand +caressingly over her severely combed hair. + +She grasped his arm with both hands and remained motionless for a +moment during which her eyes fastened themselves upon his with a +strangely rigid gleam. + +"What evil have I done?" he asked. "Do you remember our childhood's +verse: 'I am small, my heart is pure?' Have mercy on me." + +"I was only playing at passion," she said with the old half-wistful, +half-mocking smile, "in order that our relations may not lose solid +ground utterly." + +"What do you mean?" he asked, pretending astonishment. "And do you +really think, Richard, that between us, things, being as they +are--are right?" + +"I can't imagine any change that could take place at present." + +She hid a hot flush of shame. She was obviously of the opinion that he +had interpreted her meaning in the light of a desire for marriage. All +earthly possibilities had been discussed between them: this one alone +had been sedulously avoided in all their conversations. + +"Don't misunderstand me," he continued, determined to skirt the +dangerous subject with grace and ease, "there's no question here of +anything external, of any change of front with reference to the world. +It's far too late for that. ... Let us remain--if I may so put it--in +our spiritual four walls. Given our characters or, I had better say, +given your character I see no other relation between us that promises +any permanence.... If I were to pursue you with a kind of infatuation, +or you me with jealousy--it would be insupportable to us both." + +She did not reply but gently rolled and unrolled the narrow, blue silk +scarf of her gown. + +"As it is, we live happily and at peace," he went on, "Each of us has +liberty and an individual existence and yet we know how deeply rooted +our hearts are in each other." + +She heaved a sigh of painful oppression. "Aren't you content?" he +asked, + +"For heaven's sake! Surely!" Her voice was frightened, "No one could +be more content than I. If only----" + +"Well--what?" + +"If only it weren't for the lonely evenings!" + +A silence ensued. This was a sore point and had always been. He knew +it well. But he had to have his evenings to himself. There was nothing +to be done about that. + +"You musn't think me immodest in my demands," she went on in hasty +exculpation. "I'm not even aiming my remarks at you ... I'm only +thinking aloud.... But you see, I can't get any real foothold in +society until--until my affairs are more clarified.... To run about +the drawing-rooms as an example of frivolous heedlessness--that's not +my way.... I can always hear them whisper behind me: 'She doesn't take +it much to heart, that shows ...' No, I'd rather stay at home. I have +no friends either and what chance had I to make them? You were always +my one and only friend.... My books remain. And that's very well by +day ... but when the lamps are lit I begin to throb and ache and run +about ... and I listen for the trill of the door-bell. But no one +comes, nothing--except the evening paper. And that's only in winter. +Now it's brought before dusk. And in the end there's nothing worth +while in it.... And so life goes day after day. At last one creeps +into bed at half-past nine and, of course, has a wretched night." + +"Well, but how am I to help you, dear child?" he asked thoughtfully. +He was touched by her quiet, almost serene complaint. "If we took to +passing our evenings together, scandal would soon have us by the +throat, and then--woe to you!" + +Her eager eyes gazed bravely at him. + +"Well," she said at last, "suppose----" + +"What?" + +"Never mind. I don't want you to think me unwomanly. And what I've +been describing to you is, after all, only a symptom. There's a kind +of restlessness in me that I can't explain.... If I were of a less +active temper, things would be better.... It sounds paradoxical, but +just because I have so much activity in me, do I weary so quickly. +Goethe said once----" + +He raised his hands in laughing protest. + +She was really frightened. + +"Ah, yes, forgive me," she cried. "All that was to be swept out.... +How forgetful one can be...." + +Smiling, she leaned her head against his shoulder and was not to be +persuaded from her silence. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +"There are delicate boundaries within the realm of the eternal +womanly,"--thus Niebeldingk reflected next day,--"in which one is +sorely puzzled as to what one had better put into an envelope: a poem +or a cheque." + +His latest adventure--the cause of these reflections--had blossomed, +the evening before, like the traditional rose on the dungheap. + +One of his friends who had travelled about the world a good deal and +who now assumed the part of the full-blown Parisian, had issued +invitations to a house-warming in his new bachelor-apartment. He had +invited a number of his gayer friends and ladies exclusively from +so-called artistic circles. So far all was quite Parisian. Only the +journalists who might, next morning, have proclaimed the glory of the +festivity to the world--these were excluded. Berlin, for various +reasons, did not seem an appropriate place for that. + +It was a rather dreary sham orgy. Even chaperones were present. +Several ladies had carefully brought them and they could scarcely be +put out. Other ladies even thought it incumbent upon them to ask after +the wives of the gentlemen present and to turn up their noses when it +appeared that these were conspicuous by their absence. It was upon +this occasion, however, that some beneficent chance assigned to +Niebeldingk a sighing blonde who remained at his side all evening. + +Her name was Meta, she belonged to one of the "best families" of +Posen, she lived in Berlin with her mother who kept a boarding house +for ladies of the theatre. She herself nursed the ardent desire to +dedicate herself to art, for "the ideal" had always been the guiding +star of her existence. + +At the beginning of supper she expressed herself with a fine +indignation concerning the ladies present into whose midst--she +assured him eagerly--she had fallen through sheer accident. Later she +thawed out, assumed a friendly companionableness to these despised +individuals and, in order to raise Niebeldingk's delight to the +highest point, admitted with maidenly frankness the indescribable and +mysterious attraction toward him which she had felt at the +first glance. + +Of course, her principles were impregnable. He mustn't doubt that. She +would rather seek a moist death in the waves than.... and so forth. +Although she made this solemn proclamation over the dessert, the +consequence of it all was an intimate visit to Niebeldingk's dwelling +which came to a bitter sweet end at three o'clock in the morning with +gentle tears concerning the wickedness of men in general and of +himself in particular.... + +An attack of _katzenjammer_--such as is scarcely ever spared worldly +people of forty--threw a sobering shadow upon this event. The shadow +crept forward too, and presaged annoyance. + +He was such an old hand now, and didn't even know into what category +she really fitted. Was it, after all, impossible that behind all this +frivolity the desire to take up the struggle for existence on cleanly +terms stuck in her little head? + +At all events he determined to spare the possible wounding of outraged +womanliness and to wait before putting any final stamp upon the nature +of their relations. Hence he set out to play the tender lover by means +of the well-tried device of a bunch of Indian lilies. + +When he was about to give the order for the flowers to John who +always, upon these occasions, assumed a conscientiously stupid +expression, a new doubt overcame him. + +Was he not desecrating the gift which had brought consolation and +absolution to many a remorseful heart, by sending it to a girl who, +for all he knew, played a sentimental part only as a matter of decent +form? ... Wasn't there grave danger of her assuming an undue +self-importance when she felt that she was taken tragically? + +"Well, what did it matter? ... A few flowers! ..." + +Early on the evening of the next day Meta reappeared. She was dressed +in sombre black. She wept persistently and made preparations to stay. + +Niebeldingk gave her to understand that, in the first place, he had no +more time for her that evening, and that, in the second place, she +would do well to go home at a proper hour and spare herself the +reproaches of her mother. + +"Oh, my little mother, my little mother," she wailed. "How shall I +ever present myself to her sight again? Keep me, my beloved! I can +never approach my, mother again." + +He rang for his hat and gloves. + +When she saw that he was serious she wept a few more perfunctory tears +and went. + +Her visits repeated themselves and didn't become any more delightful. +On the contrary ... the heart-broken maiden gave him to understand +that her lost honour could be restored only by the means of a speedy +marriage. This exhausted his patience. He saw that he had been +thoroughly taken in and so, observing all necessary considerateness, +he sent her definitely about her business. + +Next day the "little mother" appeared on the scene. She was a +dignified woman of fifty, equipped as the Genius of Vengeance, +exceedingly glib of tongue and by no means sentimental. + +As she belonged to one of the first families of Posen, it was her duty +to lay particular stress upon the honour of her daughter whom he had +lured to his house and there wickedly seduced. ... She was prepared to +repel any overtures toward a compromise. She belonged to one of the +best families of Posen and was not prepared to sell her daughter's +virtue. The only possible way of adjusting the matter was an +immediate marriage. + +Thereupon she began to scream and scold and John, who acted as master +of ceremonies, escorted her with a patronising smile to the door.... + +Next came the visits of an old gentleman in a Prince Albert and the +ribbon of some decoration in his button-hole.--John had strict orders +to admit no strangers. But the old gentleman was undaunted. He came +morning, noon and night and finally settled down on the stairs where +Niebeldingk could not avoid meeting him. He was the uncle of Miss +Meta, a former servant of the government and a knight of several +honourable orders. As such it was his duty to demand the immediate +restitution of his niece's honour, else--Niebeldingk simply turned his +back and the knight of several honourable orders trotted, grumbling, +down the stairs. + +Up to this point Niebeldingk had striven to regard the whole business +in a humorous light. It now began It now began to promise serious +annoyance. He told the story at his club and the men laughed +boisterously, but no one knew anything to the detriment of Miss Meta. +She had been introduced by a lady who played small parts at a large +theatre and important parts at a small one. The lady was called to +account for her protegee. She refused to speak. + +"It's all the fault of those accursed Indian lilies," Niebeldingk +grumbled one afternoon at his window as he watched the knight of +various honourable orders parade the street as undaunted as ever. "Had +I treated her with less delicacy, she would never have risked playing +the part of an innocent victim." + +At that moment John announced Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +The boy came in dressed in an admirably fitting summer suit. He was +radiant with youth and strength, victory gleamed in his eye; a hymn of +victory seemed silently singing on his lips. + +"Well Fritz, you seem merry," said Niebeldingk and patted the boy's +shoulder. He could not suppress a smile of sad envy. + +"Don't ask me! Why shouldn't I be happy? Life is so beautiful, yes, +beautiful. Only you musn't have any dealings with women. That plays +the deuce with one." + +"You don't know yourself how right you are," Niebeldingk sighed, +looking out of the corner of an eye at the knight of several +honourable orders who had now taken up his station in the shelter of +the house opposite. + +"Oh, but I do know it," Fritz answered. "If I could describe to you +the contempt with which I regard my former mode of life ... everything +is different ... different ... so much purer ... nobler ... I'm +absolutely a stoic now.... And that gives one a feeling of such peace, +such serenity! And I have you to thank for it, Herr von Niebeldingk." + +"I don't understand that. To teach in the _stoa_ is a new employment +for me." + +"Well, didn't you introduce me to that noble lady? Wasn't it you?" + +"Aha," said Niebeldingk. The image of Alice, smiling a gentle +reproach, arose before him. + +In the midst of this silly and sordid business that had overtaken him, +he had almost lost sight of her. More than a week had passed since he +had crossed her threshold. + +"How is the dear lady?" he asked. + +"Oh, splendid," Fritz said, "just splendid." + +"Have you seen her often?" + +"Certainly," Fritz replied, "we're reading Marcus Aurelius together +now." + +"Thank heaven," Niebeldingk laughed, "I see that she's well taken care +of." + +He made up his mind to see her within the next hour. + +Fritz who had only come because he needed to overflow to some one with +the joy of life that was in him, soon started to go. + +At the door he turned and said timidly and with downcast eyes. + +"I have one request to make----" + +"Fire away, Fritz! How much?" + +"Oh, I don't need money ... I'd like to have the address of your +florist ...I'd like to send to the dear lady a bunch of the ... the +Indian lilies." + +"What? Are you mad?" Niebeldingk cried. + +"Why do you ask that?" Fritz was hurt. "May I not also send that +symbol to a lady whose purity and loftiness of soul I reverence. I +suppose I'm old enough!" + +"I see. You're quite right. Forgive me." Niebeldingk bit his lips and +gave the lad the address. + +Fritz thanked him and went. + +Niebeldingk gave way to his mirth and called for his hat. He wanted to +go to her at once. But--for better or worse--he changed his mind, for +yonder in the gateway, unabashed, stood the knight of several +honourable orders. + + + + +Chapter VII + + +To be sure, one can't stand eternally in a gateway. Finally the knight +deserted his post and vanished into a sausage shop. The hour had come +when even the most glowing passion of revenge fades gently into a +passion for supper. + +Niebeldingk who had waited behind his curtain, half-amused, +half-bored--for in the silent, distinguished street where everyone +knew him a scandal was to be avoided at any cost--Niebeldingk hastened +to make up for his neglect at once. + +The dark fell. Here and there the street-lamps flickered through the +purple air of the summer dusk.... + +The maid who opened the door looked at him with cool astonishment as +though he were half a stranger who had the audacity to pay a call at +this intimate hour. + +"That means a scolding," he thought. + +But he was mistaken. + +Smiling quietly, Alice arose from the couch where she had been sitting +by the light of a shaded lamp and stretched out her hand with all her +old kindliness. The absence of the otherwise inevitable book was the +only change that struck him. + +"We haven't seen each other for a long time," he said, making a +wretched attempt at an explanation. + +"Is it so long?" she asked frankly. + +"Thank you for your gentle punishment." He kissed her hand. Then he +chatted, more or less at random, of disagreeable business matters, of +preparations for a journey, and so forth. + +"So you are going away?" she asked tensely. + +The word had escaped him, he scarcely knew how. Now that he had +uttered it, however, he saw very clearly that nothing better remained +for him to do than to carry the casual thought into action.... Here he +passed a fruitless, enervating life, slothful, restless and +humiliating; at home there awaited him light, useful work, dreamless +sleep, and the tonic sense of being the master. + +All that, in other days, held him in Berlin, namely, this modest, +clever, flexible woman had almost passed from his life. Steady neglect +had done its work. If he went now, scarcely the smallest gap would be +torn into the fabric of his life. + +Or did it only seem so? Was she more deeply rooted in his heart than +he had ever confessed even to himself? They were both silent. She +stood very near him and sought to read the answer to her question in +his eyes. A kind of anxious joy appeared upon her slightly +worn features. + +"I'm needed at home," he said at last. "It is high time for me. If you +desire I'll look after your affairs too." + +"Mine? Where?" + +"Well, I thought we were neighbours there--more than here. Or have you +forgotten the estate?" + +"Let us leave aside the matter of being neighbours," she answered, +"and I don't suppose that I have much voice in the management of the +estate as long as--he lives. The guardians will see to that." + +"But you could run down there once in a while ... in the summer for +instance. Your place is always ready for you. I saw to that." + +"Ah, yes, you saw to that." The wistful irony that he had so often +noted was visible again. + +For the first time he understood its meaning. + +"She has made things too easy for me," he reflected. "I should have +felt my chains. Then, too, I would have realised what I possessed +in her." + +But did he not still possess her? What, after all, had changed since +those days of quiet companionship? Why should he think of her as +lost to him? + +He could not answer this question. But he felt a dull restlessness. A +sense of estrangement told him: All is not here as it was. + +"Since when do you live in dreams, Alice?" he asked, surveying the +empty table by which he had found her. + +His question had been innocent, but it seemed to carry a sting. She +blushed and looked past him. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Good heavens, to sit all evening without books and let the light burn +in vain--that was not your wont heretofore." + +"Oh, that's it. Ah well, one can't be poking in books all the time. +And for the past few days my eyes have been aching." + +"With secret tears?" he teased. + +She gave him a wide, serious look. + +"With secret tears," she repeated. + +"_Ah perfido_!" he trilled, in order to avoid the scene which he +feared ... But he was on the wrong scent. She herself interrupted him +with the question whether he would stay to supper. + +He was curious to find the causes of the changes that he felt here. +For that reason and also because he was not without compunction, he +consented to stay. + +She rang and ordered a second cover to be laid. + +Louise looked at her mistress with a disapproving glance and went. + +"Dear me," he laughed, "the servants are against me ... I am lost." + +"You have taken to noticing such things very recently." She gave a +perceptible shrug. + +"When a wife tells a husband of his newly acquired habits, he is +doubly lost," he answered and gave her his arm. + +The silver gleamed on the table ... the tea-kettle puffed out delicate +clouds ... exquisitely tinted apples, firm as in Autumn, smiled +at him. + +A word of admiration escaped him. And then, once more, he saw that +tragic smile on her lips--sad, wistful, almost compassionate. + +"My darling," he said with sudden tenderness and caressed her +shoulder. + +She nodded and smiled. That was all. + +At table her mood was an habitual one. Perhaps she was a trifle +gentler. He attributed that to his approaching departure. + +She drank a glass of Madeira at the beginning of the meal, the light +Rhine wine she took in long, thirsty draughts, she even touched the +brandy at the meal's end. + +An inner fire flared in her. He suspected that, he felt it. She had +touched no food. But she permitted nothing to appear on the surface. +On the contrary, the emotional warmth that she had shown earlier +disappeared. The play of her thoughts grew cooler, clearer, more +cutting, the longer she talked. + +Twice or thrice quotations from Goethe were about to escape her, but +she did not utter them. Smiling she tapped her own lips. + +When he observed that she was really restraining a genuine impulse he +begged her to consider the protest he had once uttered as merely a +jest, perhaps even an ill-considered one. But she said: "Let be, it +is as well." + +They conversed, as they had often done, of the perished days of their +old love. They spoke like two beings who have long conquered all the +struggles of the heart and who, in the calm harbour of friendship, +regard with equanimity the storms which they have weathered. + +This way of speaking had gradually, and with a kind of jocular +moroseness, crept into their intercourse. The exciting thing about it +was the silent reservation felt by both: We know how different things +could be, so soon as we desired. To-day, for the first time, this +game at renunciation seemed to become serious. + +"How strange!" he thought. "Here we sit who are dearest to each other +in all the world and a kind of futile arrogance drives us farther and +farther apart." + +Alice arose. + +He kissed her, as was his wont, upon hand and forehead and noted how +she turned aside with a slight shiver. Then suddenly she took his head +in both her hands and kissed him full on the lips with a kind of +desperate eagerness. + +"Ah," he cried, "what is that? It's more than I have a right to +expect." + +"Forgive me," she said, withdrawing herself at once. "We're poverty +stricken folk and haven't much to give each other." + +"After what I have just experienced, I'm inclined to believe the +contrary." + +But she seemed little inclined to draw the logical consequences of her +action. Quietly she gave him his wonted cigarette, lit her own, and +sat down in her old place. With rounded lips she blew little clouds of +smoke against the table-cover. + +"Whenever I regard you in this manner," he said, carefully feeling his +way, "it always seems to me that you have some silent reservation, as +though you were waiting for something." "It may be," she answered, +blushing anew, "I sit by the way-side, like the man in the story, and +think of the coming of my fate." + +"Fate? What fate?" + +"Ah, who can tell, dear friend? That which one foresees is no longer +one's fate!" + +"Perhaps it's just the other way." + +She drew back sharply and looked past him in tense thoughtfulness. +"Perhaps you are right," she said, with a little mysterious sigh. "It +may be as you say." + +He was no wiser than he had been. But since he held it beneath his +dignity to assume the part of the jealous master, he abandoned the +search for her secrets with a shrug. The secrets could be of no great +importance. No one knew better than himself the moderateness of her +desires, no lover, in calm possession of his beloved, had so little to +fear as he.... + +They discussed their plans for the Summer. He intended to go to the +North Sea in Autumn, an old affection attracted her to Thuringia. The +possibility of their meeting was touched only in so far as courtesy +demanded it. + +And once more silence fell upon the little drawing-room. Through the +twilight an old, phantastic Empire clock announced the hurrying +minutes with a hoarse tick. + +In other days a magical mood had often filled this room--the presage +of an exquisite flame and its happy death. All that had vibrated here. +Nothing remained. They had little to say to each other. That was what +time had left. + +He played thoughtfully with his cigarette. She stared into nothingness +with great, dreamy eyes. + +And suddenly she began to weep ... + +He almost doubted his own perception, but the great glittering tears +ran softly down her smiling face. + +But he was satiated with women's tears. In the fleeting amatory +adventures of the past weeks and months, he had seen so many--some +genuine, some sham, all superfluous. And so instead of consoling her, +he conceived a feeling of sarcasm and nausea: "Now even she +carries on!".... + +The idea did indeed flash into his mind that this moment might be +decisive and pregnant with the fate of the future, but his horror of +scenes and explanations restrained him. + +Wearily he assumed the attitude of one above the storms of the soul +and sought a jest with which to recall her to herself. But before he +found it she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and slipped from +the room. + +"So much the better," he thought and lit a fresh cigarette, "If she +lets her passion spend itself in silence it will pass the +more swiftly." + +Walking up and down he indulged in philosophic reflections concerning +the useless emotionality of woman, and the duty of man not to be +infected by it ... He grew quite warm in the proud consciousness of +his heart's coldness. + +Then suddenly--from the depth of the silence that was about +him--resounded in a long-drawn, shrill, whirring voice that he had +never heard--his own name. + +"Rrricharrd!" it shrilled, stern and hard as the command of some +paternal martinet. The voice seemed to come from subterranean depths. + +He shivered and looked about. Nothing moved. There was no living soul +in the next room. + +"Richard!" the voice sounded a second time. This time the sound seemed +but a few paces from him, but it arose from the ground as though a +teasing goblin lay under his chair. + +He bent over and peered into dark corners. + +The mystery was solved: Joko, Alice's parrot, having secretly stolen +from his quarters, sat on the rung of a chair and played the evil +conscience of the house. + +The tame animal stepped with dignity upon his outstretched hand and +permitted itself to be lifted into the light.... Its glittering +neck-feathers stood up, and while it whetted its beak on Niebeldingk's +cuff-links, it repeated in a most subterranean voice: "Richard!" + +And suddenly the dear feeling of belonging here, of being at home came +over Niebeldingk. He had all but lost it. But its gentle power drew +him on and refreshed him. + +It was his right and his duty to be at home here where a dear woman +lived so exclusively for him that the voice of her yearning sounded +even from the tongue of the brute beast that she possessed! There was +no possibility of feeling free and alien here. + +"I must find her!" he thought quickly, "I musn't leave her alone +another second." + +He set Joko carefully on the table and sought to reach her bed-room +which he had never entered by this approach. + +In the door that led to the rear hall she met him. Her demeanour had +its accustomed calm, her eyes were clear and dry. + +"My poor, dear darling!" he cried and wanted to take her in his arms. + +A strange, repelling glance met him and interrupted his beautiful +emotion. Something hardened in him and he felt a new inclination +to sarcasm. + +"Forgive me for leaving you," she said, "one must have patience with +the folly of my sex. You know that well." + +And she preceded him to his old place. + +Screaming with pleasure Joko flew forward to meet her, and Niebeldingk +remained standing to take his leave. + +She did not hold him back. + +Outside it occurred to him that he hadn't told her the anecdote of +Fritz and the Indian lilies. + +"It's a pity," he thought, "it might have cheered her." ... + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +Next morning Niebeldingk sat at his desk and reflected with +considerable discomfort on the experience of the previous evening. +Suddenly he observed, across the street, restlessly waiting in the +same doorway--the avenging spirit! + +It was an opportune moment. It would distract him to make an example +of the fellow. Nothing better could have happened. + +He rang for John and ordered him to bring up the wretched fellow and, +furthermore, to hold himself in readiness for an act of vigorous +expulsion. + +Five minutes passed. Then the door opened and, diffidently, but with a +kind of professional dignity, the knight of several honourable orders +entered the room. + +Niebeldingk made rapid observations: A beardless, weatherworn old face +with pointed, stiff, white brows. The little, watery eyes knew how to +hide their cunning, for nothing was visible in them save an expression +of wonder and consternation. The black frock coat was threadbare but +clean, his linen was spotless. He wore a stock which had been the +last word of fashion at the time of the July revolution. + +"A sharper of the most sophisticated sort," Niebeldingk concluded. + +"Before any discussion takes place," he said sharply. "I must know +with whom I am dealing." + +The old man drew off with considerable difficulty his torn, gray, +funereal gloves and, from the depths of a greasy pocket-book, produced +a card which had, evidently, passed through a good many hands. + +"A sharper," Niebeldingk repeated to himself, "but on a pretty low +plane." He read the card: "Kohleman, retired clerk of court." And +below was printed the addition: "Knight of several orders." + +"What decorations have you?" he asked. + +"I have been very graciously granted the Order of the Crown, fourth +class, and the general order for good behaviour." + +"Sit down," Niebeldingk replied, impelled by a slight instinctive +respect. + +"Thank you, I'll take the liberty," the old gentleman answered and sat +down on the extreme edge of a chair. + +"Once on the stairs you--" he was about to say "attacked me," but he +repressed the words. "I know," he began, "what your business is. +And now tell me frankly: Do you think any man in the world such a fool +as to contemplate marriage because a frivolous young thing whose +acquaintance he made at a supper given to 'cocottes' accompanies him, +in the middle of the night, to his bachelor quarters? Do you think +that a reasonable proposition?" + +"No," the old gentleman answered with touching honesty. "But you know +it's pretty discouraging to have Meta get into that kind of a mess. +I've had my suspicions for some time that that baggage is a keener, +and I've often said to my sister: 'Look here, these theatrical women +are no proper company for a girl--'" + +"Well then," Niebeldingk exclaimed, overcome with astonishment, "if +that's the case, what are you after?" + +"I?" the old gentleman quavered and pointed a funereal glove at his +breast, "I? Oh, dear sakes alive! I'm not after anything. Do you +imagine, my dear sir, that I get any fun out of tramping up and down +in front of your house on my old legs? I'd rather sit in a corner and +leave strange people to their own business. But what can I do? I live +in my sister's house, and I do pay her a little board, for I'd never +take a present, not a penny--that was never my way. But what I pay +isn't much, you know, and so I have to make myself a bit useful in the +boarding-house. The ladies have little errands, you know. And they're +quite nice, too, except that they get as nasty as can be if their +rooms aren't promptly cleaned in the morning, and so I help with the +dusting, too ... If only it weren't for my asthma ... I tell, you, +asthma, my dear sir--" + +He stopped for an attack of coughing choked him. + +With a sudden kindly emotion Niebeldingk regarded the terrible avenger +in horror of whom he had lived four mortal days. He told him to +stretch his poor old legs and asked him whether he'd like a glass +of Madeira. + +The old gentleman's face brightened. If it would surely give no +trouble he would take the liberty of accepting. + +Niebeldingk rang and John entered with a grand inquisitorial air. He +recoiled when he saw the monster so comfortable and, for the first +time in his service, permitted himself a gentle shake of the head. + +The old gentleman emptied his glass in one gulp and wiped his mouth +with a brownish cotton handkerchief. Fragments of tobacco flew about. +He looked so tenderly at the destroyer of his family as though he had +a sneaking desire to join the enemy. + +"Well, well," he began again. "What's to be done? If my sister takes +something into her head.... And anyhow, I'll tell you in confidence, +she is a devil. Oh deary me, what I have to put up with from her! It's +no good getting into trouble with her! ... If you want to avoid any +unpleasantness, I can only advise you to consent right away.... You +can back out later.... But that would be the easiest way." + +Niebeldingk laughed heartily. + +"Yes, you can laugh," the old gentleman said sadly, "that's because +you don't know my sister." + +"But _you_ know her, my dear man. And do you suppose that she may have +other, that is to say, financial aims, while she----" + +The old gentleman looked at him with great scared eyes. + +"How do you mean?" he said and crushed the brown handkerchief in his +hollow hand. + +"Well, well, well," Niebeldingk quieted him and poured a reconciling +second glass of wine. + +But he wasn't to be bribed. + +"Permit me, my dear sir," he said, "but you misunderstand me +entirely.... Even if I do help my sister in the house, and even if I +do go on errands, I would never have consented to go on such an +one.... I said to my sister: It's marriage or nothing.... We don't go +in for blackmail, of that you may be sure." "Well, my dear man," +Niebeldingk laughed, "If that's the alternative, then--nothing!" + +The old gentleman grew quite peaceable again. + +"Goodness knows, you're quite right. But you will have +unpleasantnesses, mark my word. ... And if she has to appeal to the +Emperor, my sister said. And my sister--I mention it quite in +confidence--my sister--" + +"Is a devil, I understand." + +"Exactly." + +He laughed slyly as one who is getting even with an old enemy and +drank, with every evidence of delight, the second glassful of wine. + +Niebeldingk considered. Whether unfathomable stupidity or equally +unfathomable sophistication lay at the bottom of all this--the +business was a wretched one. It was just such an affair as would be +dragged through every scandal mongering paper in the city, thoroughly +equipped, of course, with the necessary moral decoration. He could +almost see the heavy headlines: Rascality of a Nobleman. + +"Yes, yes, my dear fellow," he said, and patted the terrible enemy's +shoulder, "I tell you it's a dog's life. If you can avoid it any +way--never go in for fast living." + +The old gentleman shook his gray head sadly. + +"That's all over," he declared, "but twenty years ago--" +Niebeldingk cut short the approaching confidences. + +"Well, what's going to happen now?" he asked. "And what will your +sister do when you come home and announce my refusal?" + +"I'll tell you, Baron. In fact, my sister required that I _should_ +tell you, because that is to--" he giggled--"that is to have a +profound effect. We've got a nephew, I must tell you, who's a +lieutenant in the army. Well, he is to come at once and challenge you +to a duel.... Well, now, a duel is always a pretty nasty piece of +business. First, there's the scandal, and then, one _might_ get hurt. +And so my sister thought that you'd rather----" + +"Hold on, my excellent friend," said Niebeldingk and a great weight +rolled from his heart. "You have an officer in your family? That's +splendid ... I couldn't ask anything better ... You wire him at once +and tell him that I'll be at home three days running and ready to give +him the desired explanations. I'm sorry for the poor fellow for being +mixed up in such a stupid mess, but I can't help him." + +"Why do you feel sorry for him?" the old gentleman asked. "He's as +good a marksman as you are." + +"Assuredly," Niebeldingk returned. "Assuredly a better one.... Only it +won't come to that." + +He conducted his visitor with great ceremony into the outer hall. + +The latter remained standing for a moment in the door. He grasped +Niebeldingk's hand with overflowing friendliness. + +"My dear baron, you have been so nice to me and so courteous. Permit +me, in return, to offer you an old man's counsel: Be more careful +about flowers!" + +"What flowers?" + +"Well, you sent a great, costly bunch of them. That's what first +attracted my sister's attention. And when my sister gets on the track +of anything, well!" ... + +He shook with pleasure at the sly blow he had thus delivered, drew +those funereal gloves of his from the crown of his hat and took +his leave. + +"So it was the fault of the Indian lilies," Niebeldingk thought, +looking after the queer old knight with an amused imprecation. That +gentleman, enlivened by the wine he had taken, pranced with a new +flexibility along the side-walk. "Like the count in _Don Juan_," +Niebeldingk thought, "only newly equipped and modernised." + +The intervention of the young officer placed the whole affair upon +an intelligible basis. It remained only to treat it with entire +seriousness. Niebeldingk, according to his promise, remained at home +until sunset for three boresome days. On the morning of the fourth he +wrote a letter to the excellent old gentleman telling him that he was +tired of waiting and requesting an immediate settlement of the +business in question. Thereupon he received the following answer: + +"SIR:-- + +In the name of my family I declare to you herewith that I give you +over to the well-deserved contempt of your fellowmen. A man who can +hesitate to restore the honour of a loving and yielding girl is not +worthy of an alliance with our family. Hence we now sever any further +connection with you. + +With that measure of esteem which you deserve, + +I am, + +KOHLEMAN, _Retired Clerk of Court_. + +Knight S.H.O. + +P.S. + +Best regards. Don't mind all that talk. The duel came to nothing. Our +little lieutenant besought us not to ruin him and asked that his name +be not mentioned. He has left town." + +Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Niebeldingk threw the letter aside. + +Now that the affair was about to float into oblivion, he became +aware of the fact that it had weighed most heavily upon him. + +And he began to feel ashamed. + +He, a man who, by virtue of his name and of his wealth and, if he +would be bold, by virtue of his intellect, was able to live in some +noble and distinguished way--he passed his time with banalities that +were half sordid and half humorous. These things had their place. +Youth might find them not unfruitful of experience. They degraded a +man of forty. + +If these things filled his life to-day, then the years of training and +slow maturing had surely gone for nothing. And what would become of +him if he carried these interests into his old age? His schoolmates +were masters of the great sciences, distinguished servants of the +government, influential politicians. They toiled in the sweat of their +brows and harvested the fruits of their youth's sowing. + +He strove to master these discomforting thoughts, but every moment +found him more defenceless against them. + +And shame changed into disgust. + +To divert himself he went out into the streets and landed, finally, in +the rooms of his club. Here he was asked concerning his latest +adventure. Only a certain respect which his personality inspired saved +him from unworthy jests. And in this poverty-stricken world, where +the very lees of experience amounted to a sensation--here he +wasted his days. + +It must not last another week, not another day. So much suddenly grew +clear to him. + +He hurried away. Upon the streets brooded the heat of early summer. +Masses of human beings, hot but happy, passed him in silent activity. + +What was he to do? + +He must marry: that admitted of no doubt. In the glow of his own +hearth he must begin a new and more tonic life. + +Marry? But whom? A worn out heart can no longer be made to beat more +swiftly at the sight of some slim maiden. The senses might yet be +stirred, but that is all. + +Was he to haunt watering-places and pay court to mothers on the +man-hunt in order to find favour in their daughters' eyes? Was he to +travel from estate to estate and alienate the affection of young +_chatelaines_ from their favourite lieutenants? + +Impossible! + +He went home hopelessly enough and drowsed away the hours of the +afternoon behind drawn blinds on a hot couch. + +Toward evening the postman brought a letter--in Alice's hand. +Alice! How could he have forgotten her! His first duty should have +been to see her. + +He opened the envelope, warmly grateful for her mere existence. + +"DEAR FRIEND:-- + +As you will probably not find time before you leave the city to bid me +farewell in person. I beg you to return to me a certain key which I +gave into your keeping some years ago. You have no need of it and it +worries me to have it lying about. + +Don't think that I am at all angry. My friendship and my gratitude are +yours, however far and long we may be separated. When, some day, we +meet again, we will both have become different beings. With many +blessings upon your way, + +ALICE." + +He struck his forehead like a man who awakens from an obscene dream. + +Where was his mind? He was about to go in search of that which was so +close at hand, so richly his own! + +Where else in all the world could he find a woman so exquisitely +tempered to his needs, so intimately responsive to his desires, one +who would lead him into the darker land of matrimony through meadows +of laughing flowers? + +To be sure, there was her coolness of temper, her learning, her +strange restlessness. But was not all that undergoing a change? Had he +not found her sunk in dreams? And her tears? And her kiss? + +Ungrateful wretch that he was! + +He had sought a home and not thought of the parrot who screamed out +his name in her dear dwelling. There was a parrot like that in the +world--and he wandered foolishly abroad. What madness! What baseness! + +He would go to her at once. + +But no! A merry thought struck him and a healing one. + +He took the key from the wall and put it into his pocket. + +He would go to her--at midnight. + + + + +Chapter IX. + + +He had definitely abandoned his club, the theatres were closed, the +restaurants were deserted, his brother's family was in the country. It +was not easy to pass the evening with that great resolve in his heart +and that small key in his pocket. + +Until ten he drifted about under the foliage of the _Tiergarten_. He +listened to the murmur of couples who thronged the dark benches, +regarded those who were quietly walking in the alleys and found +himself, presently, in that stream of humanity which is drawn +irresistibly toward the brightly illuminated pleasure resorts. + +He was moved and happy at once. For the first time in years he felt +himself to be a member of the family of man, a humbly serving brother +in the commonweal of social purpose. + +His time of proud, individualistic morality was over: the +ever-blessing institution of the family was about to gather him to its +hospitable bosom. + +To be sure, his wonted scepticism was not utterly silenced. But he +drove it away with a feeling of delighted comfort. He could have +shouted a blessing to the married couples in search of air, he could +have given a word of fatherly advice to the couples on the benches: +"Children, commit no indiscretions--marry!" + +And when he thought of her! A mild and peaceable tenderness of which +he had never thought himself capable welled up from his and heart.... +Wide gardens of Paradise seemed to open, gardens with secret grottos +and shady corners. And upon one of the palm-trees there sat +Joko--amiable beast--and said: "Rrricharrrd!" + +He went over the coming scene in his imagination again and again: Her +little cry of panic when he would enter the dark room and then his +whispered reassurance: "It is I, my darling. I have come back to stay +for ever and ever." + +And then happiness, gentle and heart-felt. + +If a divorce was necessary, the relatives of her husband would +probably succeed in divesting her of most of the property. What did it +matter to either of them? Was he not rich and was she not sure of him? +If need were, he could, with one stroke of the pen, repay her +threefold all that she might lose. But, indeed, these reflections were +quite futile. For when two people are so welded together in their +souls, their earthly possessions need no separation. From ten until +half past eleven he sat in a corner of the _Café Bauer_ and read the +paper of his native province which, usually, he never looked at. With +childlike delight he read into the local notices and advertisements +things pertinent to his future life. + +Bremsel, the delicatessen man in a neighbouring town advertised fresh +crabs. And Alice liked them. "Splendid," he thought "we won't have to +bring them from far." And suddenly he himself felt an appetite for the +shell-fish, so thoroughly had he lived himself into his vision of +domestic felicity. + +At twenty-five minutes of twelve he paid for his chartreuse and set +out on foot. He had time to spare and he did not want to cause the +unavoidable disturbance of a cab's stopping at her door. + +The house, according to his hope, was dark and silent. + +With beating heart he drew forth the key which consisted of two +collapsible parts. One part was for the house door, the other for a +door in her bed-room that led to a separate entrance. He had himself +chosen the apartment with this advantage in view. + +He passed the lower hall unmolested and reached the creaking stairs +which he had always hated. And as he mounted he registered an oath +to pass this way no more. He would not thus jeopardise the fair fame +of his betrothed. + +It would be bad enough if he had to rap, in case the night latch was +drawn.... + +The outer door, at least, offered no difficulty. He touched it and it +swung loose on its hinges. + +For a moment the mad idea came into his head that--in answer to her +letter--Alice might have foreseen the possibility of his coming.... He +was just about to test, by a light pressure, the knob of the inner +door when, coming from the bed-room, a muffled sound of speech +reached his ear. + +One voice was Alice's: the other--his breath stopped. It was not the +maid's. He knew it well. It was the voice of Fritz von Ehrenberg. + +It was over then--for him.... And again and again he murmured: "It's +all over." + +He leaned weakly against the wall. + +Then he listened. + +This woman who could not yield with sufficient fervour to the abandon +of passionate speech and action--this was Alice, his Alice, with her +fine sobriety, her philosophic clearness of mind. + +And that young fool whose mouth she closed with long kisses of +gratitude for his folly--did he realise the blessedness which had +fallen to the lot of his crude youth? It was over ... all over. + +And he was so worn, so passionless, so autumnal of soul, that he could +smile wearily in the midst of his pain. + +Very carefully he descended the creaking stairs, locked the door of +the house and stood on the street--still smiling. + +It was over ... all over. + +Her future was trodden into the mire, hers and his own. + +And in this supreme moment he grew cruelly aware of his crimes against +her. + +All her love, all her being during these years had been but one secret +prayer: "Hold me, do not break me, do not desert me!" + +He had been deaf. He had given her a stone for bread, irony for love, +cold doubt for warm, human trust! And in the end he had even despised +her because she had striven, with touching faith, to form herself +according to his example. + +It was all fatally clear--now. + +Her contradictions, her lack of feeling, her haughty scepticism--all +that had chilled and estranged him had been but a dutiful reflection +of his own being. + +Need he be surprised that the last remnant of her lost and corrupted +youth rose in impassioned rebellion against him and, thinking to +save itself, hurled itself to destruction? + +He gave one farewell glance to the dark, silent house--the grave of +the fairest hopes of all his life. Then he set out upon long, dreary, +aimless wandering through the endless, nocturnal streets. + +Like shadows the shapes of night glided by him. + +Shy harlots--loud roysterers--benzin flames--more harlots--and here +and there one lost in thought even as he. + +An evil odour, as of singed horses' hoofs, floated over the city..... +The dust whirled under the street-cleaning machines. + +The world grew silent. He was left almost alone..... + +Then the life of the awakening day began to stir. A sleepy dawn crept +over the roofs.... + +It was the next morning. + +There would be no "next mornings" for him. That was over. + +Let others send Indian lilies! + + + + + +THE PURPOSE + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was a blazing afternoon, late in July. The Cheruskan fraternity +entered Ellerntal in celebration of their mid-summer festivity. They +had let the great wagon stand at the outskirts of the village and now +marched up its street in well-formed procession, proud and vain as a +company of _Schützen_ before whom all the world bows down once a year. + +First came the regimental band of the nearest garrison, dressed in +civilian's clothes--then, under the vigilance of two brightly attired +freshmen, the blue, white and golden banner of the fraternity, next +the officers accompanied by other freshmen, and finally the active +members in whom the dignity, decency and fighting strength of the +fraternity were embodied. A gay little crowd of elderly gentlemen, +ladies and guests followed in less rigid order. Last came, as always +and everywhere, the barefoot children of the village. The procession +came to a halt in front of the _Prussian Eagle_, a long-drawn single +story structure of frame. The newly added dance hall with its three +great windows protruded loftily above the house. + +The banner was lowered, the horns of the band gave wild, sharp signals +to which no one attended, and Pastor Rhode, a sedate man of fifty +dressed in the scarf and slashed cap of the order, stepped from the +inn door to pronounce the address of welcome. At this moment it +happened that one of the two banner bearers who had stood at the right +and left of the flag with naked foils, rigid as statues, slowly tilted +over forward and buried his face in the green sward. + +This event naturally put an immediate end to the ceremony. Everybody, +men and women, thronged around the fallen youth and were quickly +pushed back by the medical fraternity men who were present in various +stages of professional development. + +The medical wisdom of this many-headed council culminated in the cry: +"A glass of water!" + +Immediately a young girl--hot-eyed and loose-haired, exquisite in the +roundedness of half maturity--rushed out of the door and handed a +glass to the gentlemen who had turned the fainting lad on his +back and were loosening scarf and collar. + +He lay there, in the traditional garb of the fraternity, like a young +cavalry man of the time of the Great Elector--with his blue, +gold-braided doublet, close-fitting breeches of white leather and +mighty boots whose flapping tops swelled out over his firm thighs. He +couldn't be above eighteen or nineteen, long and broad though he was, +with his cheeks of milk and blood, that showed no sign of down, no +duelling scar. You would have thought him some mother's pet, had there +not been a sharp line of care that ran mournfully from the half-open +lips to the chin. + +The cold water did its duty. Sighing, the lad opened his eyes--two +pretty blue boy's eyes, long lashed and yet a little empty of +expression as though life had delayed giving them the harder glow +of maturity. + +These eyes fell upon the young girl who stood there, with hands +pressed to her heaving bosom, in an ecstatic desire to help. + +"Where can we carry him?" asked one of the physicians. + +"Into my room," she cried, "I'll show you the way." + +Eight strong hands took hold and two minutes later the boy lay on the +flowered cover of her bed. It was far too short for him, but it stood, +soft and comfortable, hidden by white mull curtains in a corner of +her simple room. + +He was summoned back to full consciousness, tapped, auscultated and +examined. Finally he confessed with a good deal of hesitation that his +right foot hurt him a bit--that was all. + +"Are the boots your own, freshie?" asked one of the physicians. + +He blushed, turned his gaze to the wall and shook his head. + +Everyone smiled. + +"Well, then, off with the wretched thing." + +But all exertion of virile strength was in vain. The boot did not +budge. Only a low moan of suffering came from the patient. + +"There's nothing to be done," said one, "little miss, let's have a +bread-knife." + +Anxious and with half-folded hands she had stood behind the doctors. +Now she rushed off and brought the desired implement. + +"But you're not going to hurt him?" she asked with big, beseeching +eyes. + +"No, no, we're only going to cut his leg off," jested one of the +by-standers and took the knife from her clinging fingers. + +Two incisions, two rents along the shin--the leather parted. A steady +surgeon's hand guided the knife carefully over the instep. At last the + flesh appeared--bloody, steel-blue and badly swollen. + +"Freshie, you idiot, you might have killed yourself," said the surgeon +and gave the patient a paternal nudge. "And now, little miss, +hurry--sugar of lead bandages till evening." + + + + +Chapter II. + + +Her name was Antonie. She was the inn-keeper Wiesner's only daughter +and managed the household and kitchen because her mother had died in +the previous year. + +His name was Robert Messerschmidt. He was a physician's son and a +student of medicine. He hoped to fight his way into full fraternity +membership by the beginning of the next semester. This last detail +was, at present, the most important of his life and had been confided +to her at the very beginning of their acquaintanceship. + +Youth is in a hurry. At four o'clock their hands were intertwined. At +five o'clock their lips found each other. From six on the bandages +were changed more rarely. Instead they exchanged vows of eternal +fidelity. At eight a solemn betrothal took place. And when, at ten +o'clock, swaying slightly and mellow of mood, the physicians +reappeared in order to put the patient to bed properly, their +wedding-day had been definitely set for the fifth anniversary of that +day. Next morning the procession went on to celebrate in some other +picturesque locality the festival of the breakfast of "the +morning after." + +Toni had run up on the hill which ascended, behind her father's house, +toward the high plateau of the river-bank. With dry but burning eyes +she looked after the wagons which gradually vanished in the silvery +sand of the road and one of which carried away into the distance her +life's whole happiness. + +To be sure, she had fallen in love with everyone whom she had met. +This habit dated from her twelfth, nay, from her tenth year. But this +time it was different, oh, so different. This time it was like an +axe-blow from which one doesn't arise. Or like the fell +disease--consumption--which had dragged her mother to the grave. + +She herself was more like her father, thick-set and sturdy. + +She had also inherited his calculating and planning nature. With tough +tenacity he could sacrifice years of earning and saving and planning +to acquire farms and meadows and orchards. Thus the girl could +meditate and plan her fate which, until yesterday, had been fluid as +water but which to-day lay definitely anchored in the soul of a +stranger lad. + +Her education had been narrow. She knew the little that an old +governess and a comfortable pastor could teach. But she read +whatever she could get hold of--from the tattered "pony" to Homer +which a boy friend had loaned her, to the most horrible +penny-dreadfuls which were her father's delight in his rare hours +of leisure. + +And she assimilated what she read and adapted it to her own fate. Thus +her imagination was familiar with happiness, with delusion, +with crime.... + +She knew that she was beautiful. If the humility of her play-fellows +had not assured her of this fact, she would have been enlightened by +the long glances and jesting admiration of her father's guests. + +Her father was strict. He interfered with ferocity if a traveller +jested with her too intimately. Nevertheless he liked to have her come +into the inn proper and slip, smiling and curtsying, past the +wealthier guests. It was not unprofitable. + +Upon his short, fleshy bow-legs, with his suspiciously calculating +blink, with his avarice and his sharp tongue, he stood between her and +the world, permitting only so much of it to approach her as seemed, at +a given moment, harmless and useful. + +His attitude was fatal to any free communication with her beloved. He +opened and read every letter that she had ever received. Had she +ventured to call for one at the post-office, the information would +have reached him that very day. + +The problem was how to deceive him without placing herself at the +mercy of some friend. + +She sat down in the arbour from which, past the trees of the orchard +and the neighbouring river, one had a view of the Russian forests, and +put the problem to her seventeen-year old brain. And while the summer +wind played with the green fruit on the boughs and the white herons +spread their gleaming wings over the river, she thought out a +plan--the first of many by which she meant to rivet her beloved +for life. + +On the same afternoon she asked her father's permission to invite the +daughter of the county-physician to visit her. + +"Didn't know you were such great friends," he said, surprised. + +"Oh, but we are," she pretended to be a little hurt. "We were received +into the Church at the same time." + +With lightning-like rapidity he computed the advantages that might +result from such a visit. The county-seat was four miles distant and +if the societies of veterans and marksmen in whose committees the +doctor was influential could be persuaded to come hither for their +outings.... The girl was cordially invited and arrived a week later. +She was surprised and touched to find so faithful a friend in Toni +who, when they were both boarding with Pastor Rhode, had played her +many a sly trick. + +Two months later the girl, in her turn, invited Toni to the city +whither she had never before been permitted to go alone and so the +latter managed to receive her lover's first letter. + +What he wrote was discouraging enough. His father was ill, hence the +excellent practice was gliding into other hands and the means for his +own studies were growing narrow. If things went on so he might have to +give up his university course and take to anything to keep his mother +and sister from want. + +This prospect did not please Toni. She was so proud of him. She could +not bear to have him descend in the social scale for the sake of bread +and butter. She thought and thought how she could help him with money, +but nothing occurred to her. She had to be content with encouraging +him and assuring him that her love would find ways and means for +helping him out of his difficulties. + +She wrote her letters at night and jumped out of the window in order +to drop them secretly into the pillar box. It was months before she +could secure an answer. His father was better, but life in the +fraternity was very expensive, and it was a very grave question +whether he had not better resign the scarf which he had just gained +and study on as a mere "barb." + +In Toni's imagination the picture of her beloved was brilliantly +illuminated by the glory of the tricoloured fraternity scarf, his +desire for it had become so ardently her own, that she could not bear +the thought of him--his yearning satisfied--returning to the gray +commonplace garb of Philistia. And so she wrote him. + +Spring came and Toni matured to statelier maidenhood. The plump girl, +half-child, droll and naïve, grew to be a thoughtful, silent young +woman, secretive and very sure of her aims. She condescended to the +guests and took no notice of the desperate admiration which surrounded +her. Her glowing eyes looked into emptiness, her infinitely tempting +mouth smiled carelessly at friends and strangers. + +In May Robert's father died. + +She read it in one of the papers that were taken at the inn, and +immediately it became clear to her that her whole future was at stake. +For if he was crushed now by the load of family cares, if hope were +taken from him, no thought of her or her love would be left. Only if +she could redeem her promises and help him practically could she hope +to keep him. In the farthest corner of a rarely opened drawer lay +her mother's jewels which were some day to be hers--brooches and +rings, a golden chain, and a comb set with rubies which had found its +way--heaven knows how--into the simple inn. + +Without taking thought she stole the whole and sent it as +merchandise--not daring to risk the evidence of registration--to help +him in his studies. The few hundred marks that the jewellery would +bring would surely keep him until the end of the semester ... but +what then? ... + +And again she thought and planned all through the long, hot nights. + +Pastor Rhode's eldest son, a frail, tall junior who followed her, full +of timid passion, came home from college for the spring vacation. In +the dusk he crept around the inn as had been his wont for years. + +This time he had not long to wait. + +How did things go at college? Badly. Would he enter the senior class +at Michaelmas? Hardly. Then she would have to be ashamed of him, and +that would be a pity: she liked him too well. + +The slim lad writhed under this exquisite torture. It wasn't his +fault. He had pains in his chest, and growing pains. And all that. + +She unfolded her plan. + +"You ought to have a tutor during the long vacation, Emil, to help you +work." + +"Papa can do that." + +"Oh, Papa is busy. You ought to have a tutor all to yourself, a +student or something like that. If you're really fond of me ask your +Papa to engage one. Perhaps he'll get a young man from his own +fraternity with whom he can chat in the evening. You will ask, won't +you? I don't like people who are conditioned in their studies." + +That same night a letter was sent to her beloved. + +"Watch the frat. bulletin! Our pastor is going to look for a tutor for +his boy. See to it that you get the position. I'm longing to see +you." + + + + +Chapter III + + +Once more it was late July--exactly a year after those memorable +events--and he sat in the stage-coach and took off his crape-hung cap +to her. His face was torn by fresh scars and diagonally across his +breast the blue white golden scarf was to be seen. + +She grasped the posts of the fence with both hands and felt that she +would die if she could not have him. + +Upon that evening she left the house no more, although for two hours +he walked the dusty village street, with Emil, but also alone. But on +the next evening she stood behind the fence. Their hands found each +other across the obstacle. + +"Do you sleep on the ground-floor?" she asked whispering. + +"Yes." + +"Does the dog still bark when he sees you." + +"I don't know, I'm afraid so." + +"When you've made friends with him so that he won't bark when you get +out of the window, then come to the arbour behind our orchard. I'll +wait for you every night at twelve. But don't mind that. Don't come +till you're sure of the dog." + +For three long nights she sat on the wooden bench of the arbour until +the coming of dawn and stared into the bluish dusk that hid the +village as in a cloak. From time to time the dogs bayed. She could +distinguish the bay of the pastor's collie. She knew his hoarse voice. +Perhaps he was barring her beloved's way.... + +At last, during the fourth night, when his coming was scarcely to be +hoped for, uncertain steps dragged up the hill. + +She did not run to meet him. She crouched in the darkest corner of the +arbour and tasted, intensely blissful, the moments during which he +felt his way through the foliage. + +Then she clung to his neck, to his lips, demanding and according +all--rapt to the very peaks of life.... + +They were together nightly. Few words passed between them. She +scarcely knew how he looked. For not even a beam of the moon could +penetrate the broad-leaved foliage, and at the peep of dawn they +separated. She might have lain in the arms of a stranger and not known +the difference. + +And not only during their nightly meetings, but even by day they slipt +through life-like shadows. One day the pastor came to the inn for a +glass of beer and chatted with other gentlemen. She heard him. + +"I don't know what's the matter with that young fellow," he said. "He +does his duty and my boy is making progress. But he's like a stranger +from another world. He sits at the table and scarcely sees us. He +talks and you have the feeling that he doesn't know what he's talking +about. Either he's anaemic or he writes poetry." + +She herself saw the world through a blue veil, heard the voices of +life across an immeasurable distance and felt hot, alien shivers run +through her enervated limbs. + +The early Autumn approached and with it the day of his departure. At +last she thought of discussing the future with him which, until then, +like all else on earth, had sunk out of sight. + +His mother, he told her, meant to move to Koenigsberg and earn her +living by keeping boarders. Thus there was at least a possibility of +his continuing his studies. But he didn't believe that he would be +able to finish. His present means would soon be exhausted and he had +no idea where others would come from. + +All that he told her in the annoyed and almost tortured tones of one +long weary of hope who only staggers on in fear of more vital +degradation. + +With flaming words she urged him to be of good courage. She insisted +upon such resources as--however frugal--were, after all, at hand, and +calculated every penny. She shrugged her shoulders at his gratitude +for that first act of helpfulness. If only there were something else +to be taken. But whence and how? Her suspicious father would have +observed any shortage in his till at once and would have had the thief +discovered. + +The great thing was to gain time. Upon her advice he was to leave +Koenigsberg with its expensive fraternity life and pass the winter in +Berlin. The rest had to be left to luck and cunning. + +In a chill, foggy September night they said farewell. Shivering they +held each other close. Their hearts were full of the confused hopes +which they themselves had kindled, not because there was any ground +for hope, but because without it one cannot live. + +And a few weeks later everything came to an end. + +For Toni knew of a surety that she would be a mother.... + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +Into the river! + +For that her father would put her in the street was clear. It was +equally clear what would become of her in that case.... + +But no, not into the river! Why was her young head so practised in +skill and cunning, if it was to bow helplessly under the first severe +onslaught of fate? What was the purpose of those beautiful long nights +but to brood upon plans and send far thoughts out toward shining aims? + +No, she would not run into the river. That dear wedding-day in five, +nay, in four years, was lost anyhow. But the long time could be +utilised so cleverly that her beloved could be dragged across the +abyss of his fate. + +First, then, she must have a father for her child. He must not be +clever. He must not be strong of will. Nor young, for youth makes +demands. ... Nor well off, for he who is certain of himself desires +freedom of choice. + +Her choice fell upon a former inn-keeper, a down-hearted man of about +fifty, moist of eye, faded, with greasy black hair.... He had failed +in business some years before and now sat around in the inn, looking +for a job.... + +To this her father did not object. For that man's condition was an +excellent foil to his own success and prosperity and thus he was +permitted, at times, to stay a week in the house where, otherwise, +charity was scarcely at home. + +Her plan worked well. On the first day she lured him silently on. On +the second he responded. On the third she turned sharply and rebuked +him. On the fourth she forgave him. On the fifth she met him in +secret. On the sixth he went on a journey, conscience smitten for +having seduced her.... + +That very night--for there was no time to be lost--she confessed with +trembling and blushing to her father that she was overcome by an +unconquerable passion for Herr Weigand. As was to be expected she was +driven from the door with shame and fury. + +During the following weeks she went about bathed in tears. Her father +avoided her. Then, when the right moment seemed to have come, she made +a second and far more difficult confession. This time her tremours and +her blushes were real, her tears were genuine for her father used a +horse-whip.... But when, that night, Toni sat on the edge of her bed +and bathed the bloody welts on her body, she knew that her plan +would succeed. + +And, to be sure, two days later Herr Weigand returned--a little more +faded, a little more hesitant, but altogether, by no means unhappy. He +was invited into her father's office for a long discussion. The result +was that the two lovers fell into each others' arms while her father, +trembling with impotent rage, hurled at them the fragments of a +crushed cigar. + +The banns were proclaimed immediately after the betrothal, and a +month later Herr Weigand, in his capacity of son-in-law, could take +possession of the same garret which he had inhabited as an impecunious +guest. This arrangement, however, was not a permanent one. An inn was +to be rented for the young couple--with her father's money. + +Toni, full of zeal and energy, took part in every new undertaking, +travelled hither and thither, considered prospects and dangers, but +always withdrew again at the last moment in order to await a fairer +opportunity. + +But she was utterly set upon the immediate furnishing of the new home. +She went to Koenigsberg and had long sessions with furniture dealers +and tradesmen of all kinds. On account of her delicate condition she +insisted that she could only travel on the upholstered seats of the +second class. She charged her father accordingly and in reality +travelled fourth class and sat for hours between market-women and +Polish Jews in order to save a few marks. In the accounts she rendered +heavy meals were itemized, strengthening wines, stimulating cordials. +As a matter of fact, she lived on dried slices of bread which, before +leaving home, she hid in her trunk. + +She did not disdain the saving of a tram car fare, although the +rebates which she got on the furniture ran into the hundreds. + +All that she sent jubilantly to her lover in Berlin, assured that he +was provided for some months. + +Thus the great misfortune had finally resulted in a blessing. For, +without these unhoped for resources, he must have long fallen by +the way-side. + +Months passed. Her furnishings stood in a storage warehouse, but the +house in which they were to live was not yet found. + +When she felt that her hour had come--her father and husband thought +it far off--she redoubled the energy of her travels, seeking, +preferably, rough and ribbed roads which other women in her condition +were wont to shun. + +And thus, one day, in a springless vehicle, two miles distant from the +county-seat, the pains of labour came upon her. She steeled every +nerve and had herself carried to the house of the county-physician +whose daughter was now tenderly attached to her. + +There she gave birth to a girl child which announced its equivocal +arrival in this world lustily. + +The old doctor, into whose house this confusion had suddenly come, +stood by her bed-side, smiling good-naturedly. She grasped him with +both hands, terror in her eyes and in her voice. + +"Dear, dear doctor! The baby was born too soon, wasn't it?" + +The doctor drew back and regarded her long and earnestly. Then his +smile returned and his kind hand touched her hair. + +"Yes, it is as you say. The baby's nails are not fully developed and +its weight is slightly below normal. It's all on account of your +careless rushing about. Surely the child came too soon." + +And he gave her the proper certification of the fact which protected +her from those few people who might consider themselves partakers of +her secret. For the opinion of people in general she cared little. So +strong had she grown through guilt and silence. + +And she was a child of nineteen! ... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +When Toni had arisen from her bed of pain she found the place which +she and her husband had been seeking for months with surprising +rapidity. The "Hotel Germania," the most reputable hotel in the +county-seat itself was for rent. Its owner had recently died. It was +palatial compared to her father's inn. There were fifteen rooms for +guests, a tap-room, a wine-room, a grocery-shop and a livery-stable. + +Weigand, intimidated by misfortune, had never even hoped to aspire to +such heights of splendour. Even now he could only grasp the measure of +his happiness by calculating enormous profits. And he did this with +peculiar delight. For, since the business was to be run in the name of +Toni's father, his own creditors could not touch him. + +When they had moved in and the business began to be straightened out, +Weigand proved himself in flat contradiction of his slack and careless +character, a tough and circumspect man of business. He knew the +whereabouts of every penny and was not inclined to permit his wife to +make random inroads upon his takings. + +Toni, who had expected to be undisputed mistress of the safe saw +herself cheated of her dearest hopes, for the time approached when the +savings made on the purchase of her furniture must necessarily be +exhausted. + +And again she planned and wrestled through the long, warm nights while +her husband, whose inevitable proximity she bore calmly, snored with +the heaviness of many professional "treats." + +One day she said to him: "A few pennies must be put by for Amanda." +That was the name of the little girl who flourished merrily in her +cradle. "You must assign some little profits to me." + +"What can I do?" he asked. "For the present everything belongs to the +old man." + +"I know what I'd like," she went on, smiling dreamily, "I'd like to +have all the profits on the sale of champagne." + +He laughed heartily. There wasn't much call for champagne in the +little county-seat. At most a few bottles were sold on the emperor's +birthday or when, once in a long while, a flush commercial traveller +wanted to regale a recalcitrant customer. + +And so Weigand fell in with what he thought a mere mood and assented. + +Toni at once made a trip to Koenigsberg and bought all kinds of +phantastic decorations--Chinese lanterns, gilt fans, artificial +flowers, gay vases and manicoloured lamp-shades. With all these things +she adorned the little room that lay behind the room in which the most +distinguished townspeople were wont to drink their beer. And so the +place with veiled light and crimson glow looked more like a mysterious +oriental shrine than the sitting-room of an honest Prussian +inn-keeper's wife. + +She sat evening after evening in this phantastic room. She brought her +knitting and awaited the things that were to come. + +The gentlemen who drank in the adjoining room, the judges, physicians, +planters--all the bigwigs of a small town, in short--soon noticed the +magical light that glimmered through the half-open door whenever +Weigand was obliged to pass from the public rooms into his private +dwelling. And the men grew to be curious, the more so as the +inn-keeper's young wife, of whose charms many rumours were afloat, had +never yet been seen by any. + +One evening, when the company was in an especially hilarious mood, the +men demanded stormily to see the mysterious room. + +Weigand hesitated. He would have to ask his wife's permission. He +returned with the friendly message that the gentlemen were welcome. +Hesitant, almost timid, they entered as if crossing the threshold of +some house of mystery. + +There stood--transfigured by the glow of coloured lamps--the shapely +young woman with the alluring glow in her eyes, and her lips that were +in the form of a heart. She gave each a secretly quivering hand and +spoke a few soft words that seemed to distinguish him from the others. +Then, still timid and modest, she asked them to be seated and begged +for permission to serve a glass of champagne in honour of +the occasion. + +It is not recorded who ordered the second bottle. It may have been the +very fat Herr von Loffka, or the permanently hilarious judge. At all +events the short visit of the gentlemen came to an end at three +o'clock in the morning with wild intoxication and a sale of eighteen +bottles of champagne, of which half bore French labels. + +Toni resisted all requests for a second invitation to her sanctum. She +first insisted on the solemn assurance that the gentlemen would +respect her presence and bring neither herself nor her house into +ill-repute. At last came the imperial county-counsellor himself--a +wealthy bachelor of fifty with the manners of an injured lady killer. +He came to beg for himself and the others and she dared not refuse +any longer. + +The champagne festivals continued. With this difference: that Toni, +whenever the atmosphere reached a certain point of heated +intoxication, modestly withdrew to her bed-room. Thus she succeeded not +only in holding herself spotless but in being praised for her +retiring nature. + +But she kindled a fire in the heads of these dissatisfied University +men who deemed themselves banished into a land of starvation, and in +the senses of the planters' sons. And this fire burned on and created +about her an atmosphere of madly fevered desire.... + +Finally it became the highest mark of distinction in the little town, +the sign of real connoisseurship in life, to have drunk a bottle of +champagne with "Germania," as they called her, although she bore +greater resemblance to some swarthier lady of Rome. Whoever was not +admitted to her circle cursed his lowliness and his futile life. + +Of course, in spite of all precautions, it could not but be that her +reputation suffered. The daughter of the county-physician began to +avoid her, the wives of social equals followed suit. But no one dared +accuse her of improper relations with any of her adorers. It was even +known that the county-counsellor, desperate over her stern refusals, +was urging her to get a divorce from her husband and marry him. No one +suspected, of course, that she had herself spread this rumour in order +to render pointless the possible leaking out of improprieties.... + +Nor did any one dream that a bank in Koenigsberg transmitted, in her +name, monthly cheques to Berlin that sufficed amply to help an +ambitious medical student to continue his work. + +The news which she received from her beloved was scanty. + +In order to remain in communication with him she had thought out a +subtle method. + +The house of every tradesman or business man in the provinces is +flooded with printed advertisements from Berlin which pour out over +the small towns and the open country. Of this printed matter, which is +usually thrown aside unnoticed, Toni gathered the most voluminous +examples, carefully preserved the envelopes, and sent them to Robert. +Her husband did not notice of course that the same advertising matter +came a second time nor that faint, scarce legible pencil marks picked +out words here and there which, when read consecutively, made complete +sense and differed very radically from the message which the printed +slips were meant to convey.... + +Years passed. A few ship-wrecked lives marked Toni's path, a few +female slanders against her were avenged by the courts. Otherwise +nothing of import took place. + +And in her heart burned with never-lessening glow the one great +emotion which always supplied fuel to her will, which lent every +action a pregnant significance and furnished absolution for +every crime. + +In the meantime Amanda grew to be a blue-eyed, charming child--gentle +and caressing and the image of the man of whose love she was the +impassioned gift. + +But Fate, which seems to play its gigantic pranks upon men in the act +of punishing them, brought it to pass that the child seemed also to +bear some slight resemblance to the stranger who, bowed and servile, +stupidly industrious, sucking cigars, was to be seen at her +mother's side. + +Never was father more utterly devoted to the fruit of his loins than +this gulled fellow to the strange child to whom the mother did not +even--by kindly inactivity--give him a borrowed right. The more +carefully she sought to separate the child from him, the more +adoringly and tenaciously did he cling to it. + +With terror and rage Toni was obliged to admit to herself that no sum +would ever suffice to make Weigand agree to a divorce that separated +him definitely from the child. And dreams and visions, transplanted +into her brain from evil books, filled Toni's nights with the glitter +of daggers and the stain of flowing blood. And fate seemed to urge on +the day when these dreams must take on flesh.... + +One day she found in the waste-paper basket which she searched +carefully after every mail-delivery, an advertisement which commended +to the buying public a new make of type-writer. + +"Many public institutions," thus the advertisement ran, "use our well +tried machines in their offices, because these machines will bear the +most rigid examination. Their reputation has crossed the ocean. The +Chilean ministry has just ordered a dozen of our 'Excelsiors' by +cable. Thus successfully does our invention spread over the world. And +yet its victorious progress is by no means completed. Even in Japan--" +and so on. + +If one looked at this stuff very carefully, one could observe that +certain words were lightly marked in pencil. And if one read these +words consecutively, the following sentence resulted: + +"Public--examination--just--successfully--completed." + +From this day on the room with the veiled lamps remained closed to her +eager friends. From this day on the generous county-counsellor saw +that his hopes were dead.... + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +How was the man to be disposed of? + +An open demand for divorce would have been stupid, for it would have +thrown a very vivid suspicion upon any later and more drastic attempt. + +Weigand's walk and conversation were blameless. Her one hope consisted +in catching him in some chance infidelity. The desire for change, she +reasoned, the allurement of forbidden fruit, must inflame even this +wooden creature. + +She had never, hitherto, paid the slightest attention to the problem +of waitresses. Now she travelled to Koenigsberg and hired the +handsomest women to be found in the employment bureaus. They came, one +after another, a feline Polish girl, a smiling, radiantly blond child +of Sweden--a Venus, a Germania--this time a genuine one. Next came a +pretended Circassian princess. And they all wandered off again, and +Weigand had no glance for them but that of the master. + +Antonie was discouraged and dropped her plan. + +What now? + +She had recoiled from no baseness. She had sacrificed to her love +honour, self-respect, truth, righteousness and pride. But she had +avoided hitherto the possibility of a conflict with the law. +Occasional small thefts in the house did not count. + +But the day had come when crime itself, crime that threatened remorse +and the sword of judgment, entered her life. For otherwise she could +not get rid of her husband. + +The regions that lie about the eastern boundary of the empire are +haunted by Jewish peddlers who carry in their sacks Russian drops, +candied fruits, gay ribands, toys made of bark, and other pleasant +things which make them welcome to young people. But they also supply +sterner needs. In the bottom of their sacks are hidden love philtres +and strange electuaries. And if you press them very determinedly, you +will find some among them who have the little white powders that can +be poured into beer ... or the small, round discs which the common +folk call "crow's eyes" and which the greedy apothecaries will not +sell you merely for the reason that they prepare the costlier +strychnine from them. + +You will often see these beneficent men in the twilight in secret +colloquy with female figures by garden-gates and the edges of woods. +The female figures slip away if you happen to appear on the road.... +Often, too, these men are asked into the house and intimate council is +held with them--especially when husband and servants are busy in the +fields.... + +One evening in the beginning of May, Toni brought home with her from a +harmless walk a little box of arsenic and a couple of small, hard +discs that rattled merrily in one's pocket.... Cold sweat ran down her +throat and her legs trembled so that she had to sit down on a case of +soap before entering the house. + +Her husband asked her what was wrong. + +"Ah, it's the spring," she answered and laughed. + +Soon her adorers noticed, and not these only, that her loveliness +increased from day to day. Her eyes which, under their depressed +brows, had assumed a sharp and peering gaze, once more glowed with +their primal fire, and a warm rosiness suffused her cheeks that spread +marvelously to her forehead and throat. + +Her appearance made so striking an impression that many a one who had +not seen her for a space stared at her and asked, full of admiration: +"What have you done to yourself?" + +"It is the spring," she answered and laughed. + +As a matter of fact she had taken to eating arsenic. + +She had been told that any one who becomes accustomed to the use of +this poison can increase the doses to such an extent that he can take +without harm a quantity that will necessarily kill another. And she +had made up her mind to partake of the soup which she meant, some day, +to prepare for her husband. That much she held to be due a faultless +claim of innocence. + +But she was unfortunate enough to make a grievous mistake one day, and +lay writhing on the floor in uncontrollable agony. + +The old physician at once recognized the symptoms of arsenic +poisoning, prescribed the necessary antidotes and carefully dragged +her back into life. The quantity she had taken, he declared, shaking +his head, was enough to slay a strong man. He transmitted the +information of the incident as demanded by law. + +Detectives and court-messengers visited the house. The entire building +was searched, documents had to be signed and all reports were +carefully followed up. + +The dear romantic public refused to be robbed of its opinion that one +of Toni's rejected admirers had thus sought to avenge himself. The +suspicion of the authorities, however, fastened itself upon a +waitress, a plump, red-haired wanton who had taken the place of the +imported beauties and whose insolent ugliness the men of the town, +relieved of nobler delights, enjoyed thoroughly. The insight of the +investigating judge had found in the girl's serving in the house and +her apparent intimacy with its master a scent which he would by no +means abandon. Only, because a few confirmatory details were still to +seek, the suspicion was hidden not only from the public but even from +its object. + +Antonie, however, ailed continually. She grew thin, her digestion was +delicate. If the blow was to be struck--and many circumstances urged +it--she would no longer be able to share the poison with her victim. +But it seemed fairly certain that suspicion would very definitely fall +not upon her but upon the other woman. The latter would have to be +sacrificed, so much was clear. + +But that was the difficulty. The wounded conscience might recover, the +crime might be conquered into forgetfulness, if only that is slain +which burdens the earth, which should never have been. But Toni felt +that her soul could not drag itself to any bourne of peace if, for her +own advantage, she cast one who was innocent to lasting and +irremediable destruction. + +The simplest thing would have been to dismiss the woman. In that case, +however, it was possible that the courts would direct their +investigations to her admirers. One of them had spoken hasty and +careless words. He might not be able to clear himself, were the +accusation directed against him. + +There remained but one hope: to ascribe the unavertible death of her +husband to some accident, some heedlessness. And so she directed her +unwavering purpose to this end. + +The Polish peddler had slipped into Toni's hand not only the arsenic +but also the deadly little discs called "crow's eyes." These must help +her, if used with proper care and circumspection. + +One day while little Amanda was playing in the yard with other girls, +she found among the empty kerosene barrels a few delightful, silvery +discs, no larger then a ten pfennig piece. With great delight she +brought them to her mother who, attending to her knitting, had ceased +for a moment to watch the children. + +"What's that, Mama?" + +"I don't know, my darling." + +"May we play with them?" + +"What would you like to play?" + +"We want to throw them." + +"No, don't do that. But I'll make you a new doll-carriage and these +will be lovely wheels." + +The children assented and Amanda brought a pair of scissors in order +to make holes in the little wheels. But they were too hard and the +points of the blades slipped. + +"Ask father to use his small gimlet." + +Amanda ran to the open window behind which he for whom all this was +prepared was quietly making out his monthly bills. + +Toni's breath failed. If he recognised the poisonous fruits, it was +all over with her plan. But the risk was not to be avoided. + +He looked at the discs for a moment. And yet for another. No, he did +not know their nature but was rather pleased with them. It did not +even occur to him to warn the little girl to beware of the +unknown fruit. + +He called into the shop ordering an apprentice to bring him a +tool-case. The boy in his blue apron came and Toni observed that his +eyes rested upon the fruits for a perceptible interval. Thus there +was, in addition to the children, another witness and one who would be +admitted to oath. + +Weigand bored holes into four of the discs and threw them, jesting +kindly, into the children's apron. The others he kept. "He has +pronounced his own condemnation," Toni thought as with trembling +fingers she mended an old toy to fit the new wheels. + +Nothing remained but to grind the proper dose with cinnamon, to +sweeten it--according to instructions--and spice a rice-pudding +therewith. + +But fate which, in this delicate matter, had been hostile to her from +the beginning, ordained it otherwise. + +For that very evening came the apothecary, not, as a rule, a timid +person. He was pale and showed Weigand the fruits. He had, by the +merest hair-breadth, prevented his little girl Marie from nibbling +one of them. + +The rest followed as a matter of course. The new wheels were taken +from the doll-carriage, all fragments were carefully sought out and +all the discs were given to the apothecary who locked them into +his safe. + +"The red-headed girl must be sacrificed after all," Toni thought. + +She planned and schemed, but she could think of no way by which the +waitress could be saved from that destruction which hung over her. + +There was no room for further hesitation. The path had to be trodden +to its goal. Whether she left corpses on the way-side, whether she +herself broke down dead at the goal--it did not matter. That plan of +her life which rivetted her fate to her beloved's forever demanded +that she proceed. + +The old physician came hurrying to the inn next morning. He was +utterly confounded by the scarcely escaped horrors. + +"You really look," he said to Toni, "as if you had swallowed some of +the stuff, too." + +"Oh, I suppose my fate will overtake me in the end," she answered with +a weary smile. "I feel it in my bones: there will be some misfortune +in our house." + +"For heaven's sake!" he cried, "Put that red-headed beast into the +street." + +"It isn't she! I'll take my oath on that," she said eagerly and +thought that she had done a wonderfully clever thing. + +She waited in suspense, fearing that the authorities would take a +closer look at this last incident. She was equipped for any +search--even one that might penetrate to her own bed-room. For she had +put false bottoms into the little medicine-boxes. Beneath these she +kept the arsenic. On top lay harmless magnesia. The boxes themselves +stood on her toilet-table, exposed to all eyes and hence withdrawn +from all suspicion. + +She waited till evening, but nobody came. And yet the connection +between this incident and the former one seemed easy enough to +establish. However that might be, she assigned the final deed to the +very next day. And why wait? An end had to be made of this torture of +hesitation which, at every new scruple, seemed to freeze her very +heart's blood. Furthermore the finding of the "crow's eyes" would be +of use in leading justice astray. + +To-morrow, then ... to-morrow.... + +Weigand had gone to bed early. But Toni sat behind the door of the +public room and, through a slit of the door, listened to every +movement of the waitress. She had kept near her all evening. She +scarcely knew why. But a strange, dull hope would not die in her--a +hope that something might happen whereby her unsuspecting victim and +herself might both be saved. + +The clock struck one. The public rooms were all but empty. Only a few +young clerks remained. These were half-drunk and made rough advances +to the waitress. + +She resisted half-serious, half-jesting. + +"You go out and cool yourselves in the night-air. I don't care about +such fellows as you." + +"I suppose you want only counts and barons," one of them taunted her. +"I suppose you wouldn't even think the county-counsellor good enough!" + +"That's my affair," she answered, "as to who is good enough for me. I +have my choice. I can get any man I want." + +They laughed at her and she flew into a rage. + +"If you weren't such a beggarly crew and had anything to bet, I'd +wager you any money that I'd seduce any man I want in a week. In a +week, do I say? In three days! Just name the man." + +Antonie quivered sharply and then sank with closed eyes, against the +back of her chair. A dream of infinite bliss stole through her being. +Was there salvation for her in this world? Could this coarse creature +accomplish that in which beauty and refinement had failed? + +Could she be saved from becoming a murderess? Would it be granted her +to remain human, with a human soul and a human face? + +But this was no time for tears or weakening. + +With iron energy she summoned all her strength and quietude and +wisdom. The moment was a decisive one. + +When the last guests had gone and all servants, too, had gone to their +rest, she called the waitress, with some jesting reproach, into +her room. + +A long whispered conversation followed. At its end the woman declared +that the matter was child's play to her. + +And did not suspect that by this game she was saving her life. + + + + +Chapter VII. + + +In hesitant incredulity Antonie awaited the things that were to come. + +On the first day a staggering thing happened. The red-headed woman, +scolding at the top of her voice, threw down a beer-glass at her +master's feet, upon which he immediately gave her notice. + +Toni's newly-awakened hope sank. The woman had boasted. And what was +worse than all: if the final deed could be accomplished, her compact +with the waitress would damn her. The woman would of course use this +weapon ruthlessly. The affair had never stood so badly. + +But that evening she breathed again. For Weigand declared that the +waitress seemed to have her good qualities too and her heart-felt +prayers had persuaded him to keep her. + +For several days nothing of significance took place except that +Weigand, whenever he mentioned the waitress, peered curiously aside. +And this fact Toni interpreted in a favorable light. + +Almost a week passed. Then, one day, the waitress approached Toni at +an unwonted hour. + +"If you'll just peep into my room this afternoon...." + +Toni followed directions.... The poor substitute crept down the +stairs--caught and powerless. He followed his wife who knelt sobbing +beside their bed. She was not to be comforted, nor to be moved. She +repulsed him and wept and wept. + +Weigand had never dreamed that he was so passionately loved. The more +violent was the anger of the deceived wife.... She demanded divorce, +instant divorce.... + +He begged and besought and adjured. In vain. + +Next he enlisted the sympathy of his father-in-law who had taken no +great interest in the business during these years, but was content if +the money he had invested in it paid the necessary six per +cent. promptly. + +The old man came immediately and made a scene with his recalcitrant +daughter.... There was the splendid business and the heavy investment! +She was not to think that he would give her one extra penny. He would +simply withdraw his capital and let her and the child starve. + +Toni did not even deign to reply. + +The suit progressed rapidly. The unequivocal testimony of the waitress +rendered any protest nugatory. + +Three months later Toni put her possessions on a train, took her +child, whom the deserted father followed with an inarticulate moan, +and travelled to Koenigsberg where she rented a small flat in order to +await in quiet the reunion with her beloved. + +The latter was trying to work up a practice in a village close to the +Russian border. He wrote that things were going slowly and that, +hence, he must be at his post night and day. So soon as he had the +slightest financial certainty for his wife and child, he would +come for them. + +And so she awaited the coming of her life's happiness. She had little +to do, and passed many happy hours in imagining how he would rush +in--by yonder passage--through this very door--tall and slender and +impassioned and press her to his wildly throbbing heart. And ever +again, though she knew it to be a foolish dream, did she see the blue +white golden scarf upon his chest and the blue and gold cap upon his +blond curls. + +Lonely widows--even those of the divorced variety--find friends and +ready sympathy in the land of good hearts. But Antonie avoided +everyone who sought her society. Under the ban of her great secret +purpose she had ceased to regard men and women except as they could be +turned into the instruments of her will. And her use for them was +over. As for their merely human character and experience--Toni saw +through these at once. And it all seemed to her futile and trivial in +the fierce reflection of those infernal fires through which she had +had to pass. + +Adorned like a bride and waiting--thus she lived quietly and modestly +on the means which her divorced husband--in order to keep his own head +above water--managed to squeeze out of the business. + +Suddenly her father died. People said that his death was due to +unconquerable rage over her folly.... + +She buried him, bearing herself all the while with blameless filial +piety and then awoke to the fact that she was rich. + +She wrote to her beloved: "Don't worry another day. We are in a +position to choose the kind of life that pleases us." + +He wired back: "Expect me to-morrow." + +Full of delight and anxiety she ran to the mirror and discovered for +the thousandth time, that she was beautiful again. The results of +poisoning had disappeared, crime and degradation had burned no marks +into her face. She stood there--a ruler of life. Her whole being +seemed sure of itself, kindly, open. Only the wild glance might, at +times, betray the fact that there was much to conceal. + +She kept wakeful throughout the night, as she had done through many +another. Plan after plan passed through her busy brain. It was with an +effort that she realised the passing of such grim necessities. + + + + +Chapter VIII. + + +A bunch of crysanthemums stood on the table, asters in vases on +dresser and chiffonier--colourful and scentless. + +Antonie wore a dress of black lace that had been made by the best +dressmaker in the city for this occasion. In festive array she +desired to meet her beloved and yet not utterly discard the garb of +filial grief. But she had dressed the child in white, with white silk +stockings and sky-blue ribands. It was to meet its father like the +incarnate spirit of approaching happiness. + +From the kitchen came the odours of the choicest autumn dishes--roast +duck with apples and a grape-cake, such as she alone knew how to +prepare. Two bottles of precious Rhine wine stood in the cool without +the window. She did not want to welcome him with champagne. The +memories of its subtle prickling, and of much else connected +therewith, nauseated her. + +If he left his village at six in the morning he must arrive at noon. + +And she waited even as she had waited seven years. This morning seven +hours had been left, there were scarcely seven minutes now. And +then--the door-bell rang. + +"That is the new uncle," she said to Amanda who was handling her +finery, flattered and astonished, and she wondered to note her brain +grow suddenly so cool and clear. + +A gentleman entered. A strange gentleman. Wholly strange. Had she met +him on the street she would not have known him. + +He had grown old--forty, fifty, an hundred years. Yet his real age +could not be over twenty-eight! ... + +He had grown fat. He carried a little paunch about with him, round and +comfortable. And the honourable scars gleamed in round red cheeks. His +eyes seemed small and receding.... + +And when he said: "Here I am at last," it was no longer the old voice, +clear and a little resonant, which had echoed and re-echoed in her +spiritual ear. He gurgled as though he had swallowed dumplings. + +But when he took her hand and smiled, something slipt into his +face--something affectionate and quiet, empty and without guile or +suspicion. + +Where was she accustomed to this smile? To be sure; in Amanda. An +indubitable inheritance. + +And for the sake of this empty smile an affectionate feeling for this +stranger came into her heart. She helped him take off his overcoat. He +wore a pair of great, red-lined rubber goloshes, typical of the +country doctor. He took these off carefully and placed them with their +toes toward the wall. + +"He has grown too pedantic," she thought. + +Then all three entered the room. When Toni saw him in the light of day +she missed the blue white golden scarf at once. But it would have +looked comical over his rounded paunch. And yet its absence +disillusioned her. It seemed to her as if her friend had doffed the +halo for whose sake she had served him and looked up to him so long. + +As for him, he regarded her with unconcealed admiration. + +"Well, well, one can be proud of you!" he said, sighing deeply, and it +almost seemed as if with this sigh a long and heavy burden lifted +itself from his soul. + +"He was afraid he might have to be ashamed of me," she thought +rebelliously. As if to protect herself she pushed the little girl +between them. + +"Here is Amanda," she said, and added with a bitter smile: "Perhaps +you remember." + +But he didn't even suspect the nature of that which she wanted to make +him feel. + +"Oh, I've brought something for you, little one!" he cried with the +delight of one who recalls an important matter in time. With measured +step he trotted back into the hall and brought out a flat paste-board +box tied with pink ribands. He opened it very carefully and revealed a +layer of chocolate-creams wrapped in tin-foil and offered one +to Amanda. + +And this action seemed to him, obviously, to satisfy all requirements +in regard to his preliminary relations to the child. + +Antonie felt the approach of a head-ache such as she had now and then +ever since the arsenic poisoning. + +"You are probably hungry, dear Robert," she said. + +He wouldn't deny that. "If one is on one's legs from four o'clock in +the morning on, you know, and has nothing in one's stomach but a +couple of little sausages, you know!" + +He said all that with the same cheerfulness that seemed to come to him +as a matter of course and yet did not succeed in wholly hiding an +inner diffidence. + +They sat down at the table and Antonie, taking pleasure in seeing to +his comfort, forgot for a moment the foolish ache that tugged at her +body and at her soul. + +The wine made him talkative. He related everything that interested +him--his professional trips across country, the confinements that +sometimes came so close together that he had to spend twenty-four +hours in his buggy. Then he told of the tricks by which people whose +lives he had just saved sought to cheat him out of his modest fees. +And he told also of the comfortable card-parties with the judge and +the village priest. And how funny it was when the inn-keeper's tame +starling promenaded on the cards.... + +Every word told of cheerful well-being and unambitious contentment. + +"He doesn't think of our common future," a torturing suspicion +whispered to her. + +But he did. + +"I should like to have you try, first of all, Toni, to live there. It +isn't easy. But we can both stand a good deal, thank God, and if we +don't like it in the end, why, we can move away." + +And he said that so simply and sincerely that her suspicion vanished. + +And with this returning certitude there returned, too, the ambition +which she had always nurtured for him. + +"How would it be if we moved to Berlin, or somewhere where there is a +university?" + +"And maybe aim at a professorship?" he cried with cheerful irony. "No, +Tonichen, all your money can't persuade me to that. I crammed enough +in that damned medical school, I've got my income and that's good +enough for me." + +A feeling of disgust came over her. She seemed to perceive the stuffy +odour of unventilated rooms and of decaying water in which flowers +had stood. + +"That is what I suffered for," involuntarily the thought came, +"_that!_" + +After dinner when Amanda was sleeping off the effects of the little +sip of wine which she had taken when they let her clink glasses with +them, they sat opposite each other beside the geraniums of the +window-box and fell silent. He blew clouds of smoke from his cigar +into the air and seemed not disinclined to indulge in a nap, too. + +Leaning back in her wicker chair she observed him uninterruptedly. At +one moment it seemed to her as though she caught an intoxicating +remnant of the slim, pallid lad to whom she had given her love. And +then again came the corroding doubt: "Was it for him, for him...." And +then a great fear oppressed her heart, because this man seemed to live +in a world which she could not reach in a whole life's pilgrimage. +Walls had arisen between them, doors had been bolted--doors that rose +from the depths of the earth to the heights of heaven.... As he sat +there, surrounded by the blue smoke of his cigar, he seemed more and +more to recede into immeasurable distances.... + +Then, suddenly, as if an inspiration had come to him, he pulled +himself together, and his face became serious, almost solemn. He laid +the cigar down on the window-box and pulled out of his inner pocket a +bundle of yellow sheets of paper and blue note-books. + +"I should have done this a long time ago," he said, "because we've +been free to correspond with each other. But I put it off to our +first meeting." + +"Done what?" she asked, seized by an uncomfortable curiosity. + +"Why, render an accounting." + +"An accounting?" + +"But dear Toni, surely you don't think me either ungrateful or +dishonourable. For seven years I have accepted one benefaction after +another from you.... That was a very painful situation for me, dear +child, and I scarcely believe that the circumstances, had they been +known, would ever have been countenanced by a court of honour." + +"Ah, yes," she said slowly. "I confess I never thought of _that_ +consideration...." + +"But I did all the more, for that very reason. And only the +consciousness that I would some day be able to pay you the last penny +of my debt sustained me in my consciousness as a decent fellow." + +"Ah, well, if that's the case, go ahead!" she said, suppressing the +bitter sarcasm that she felt. + +First came the receipts: The proceeds of the stolen jewels began the +long series. Then followed the savings in fares, food and drink and +the furniture rebates. Next came the presents of the county-counsellor, +the profits of the champagne debauches during which she had flung +shame and honour under the feet of the drinking men. She was spared +nothing, but heard again of sums gained by petty thefts from +the till, small profits made in the buying of milk and eggs. It +was a long story of suspense and longing, an inextricable web of +falsification and trickery, of terror and lying without end. The +memory of no guilt and no torture was spared her. + +Then he took up the account of his expenditures. He sat there, eagerly +handling the papers, now frowning heavily when he could not at once +balance some small sum, now stiffening his double chin in satisfied +self-righteousness as he explained some new way of saving that had +occurred to him.... Again and again, to the point of weariness, he +reiterated solemnly: "You see, I'm an honest man." + +And always when he said that, a weary irony prompted her to reply: +"Ah, what that honesty has cost me." ... But she held her peace. + +And again she wanted to cry out: "Let be! A woman like myself doesn't +care for these two-penny decencies." But she saw how deep an inner +necessity it was to him to stand before her in this conventional +spotlessness. And so she didn't rob him of his childlike joy. + +At last he made an end and spread out the little blue books before +her--there was one for each year. "Here," he said proudly, "you can go +over it yourself. It's exact." + +"It had better be!" she cried with a jesting threat and put the little +books under a flower-pot. + +A prankish mood came upon her now which she couldn't resist. + +"Now that this important business is at an end," she said, "there is +still another matter about which I must have some certainty." + +"What is that?" he said, listening intensely. + +"Have you been faithful to me in all this time?" + +He became greatly confused. The scars on his left cheek glowed like +thick, red cords. + +"Perhaps he's got a betrothed somewhere," she thought with a kind of +woeful anger, "whom he's going to throw over now." + +But it wasn't that. Not at all. "Well," he said, "there's no help for +it. I'll confess. And anyhow, _you've_ even been married in the +meantime." + +"I would find it difficult to deny that," she said. + +And then everything came to light. During the early days in Berlin he +had been very intimate with a waitress. Then, when he was an assistant +in the surgical clinic, there had been a sister who even wanted to be +married. "But I made short work of that proposition," he explained +with quiet decision. And as for the Lithuanian servant girl whom he +had in the house now, why, of course he would dismiss her next +morning, so that the house could be thoroughly aired before she +moved in. + +This was the moment in which a desire came upon her--half-ironic, +half-compassionate--to throw her arms about him and say: "You +silly boy!" + +But she did not yield and in the next moment the impulse was gone. +Only an annoyed envy remained. He dared to confess everything to +her--everything. What if she did the same? If he were to leave her in +horrified silence, what would it matter? She would have freed her +soul. Or perhaps he would flare up in grateful love? It was madness to +expect it. No power of heaven or earth could burst open the doors or +demolish the walls that towered between them for all eternity. + +A vast irony engulfed her. She could not rest her soul upon this +pigmy. She felt revengeful rather toward him--revengeful, because he +could sit there opposite her so capable and faithful, so truthful and +decent, so utterly unlike the companion whom she needed. + +Toward twilight he grew restless. He wanted to slip over to his mother +for a moment and then, for another moment, he wanted to drop in at the +fraternity inn. He had to leave at eight. + +"It would be better if you remained until to-morrow," she said with an +emphasis that gave him pause. + +"Why?" + +"If you don't feel that...." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +It wasn't to be done, he assured her, with the best will in the world. +There was an investigation in which he had to help the county-physician. +A small farmer had died suddenly of what did not seem an entirely +natural death. "I suppose," he continued, "one of those love +philtres was used with which superfluous people are put under +ground there. It's horrible that a decent person has to live +among such creatures. If you don't care to do it, I can hardly blame +you." She had grown pale and smiled weakly. She restrained him +no longer. + +"I'll be back in a week," he said, slipping on his goloshes, "and then +we can announce the engagement." + +She nodded several times but made no reply. + +The door was opened and he leaned toward her. Calmly she touched his +lips with hers. + +"You might have the announcement cards printed," he called cheerfully +from the stairs. + +Then he disappeared.... + +"Is the new uncle gone?" Amanda asked. She was sitting in her little +room, busy with her lessons. He had forgotten her. + +The mother nodded. + +"Will he come back soon?" + +Antonie shook her head. + +"I scarcely think so," she answered. + +That night she broke the purpose of her life, the purpose that had +become interwoven with a thousand others, and when the morning came +she wrote a letter of farewell to the beloved of her youth. + + + + + +THE SONG OF DEATH + + +With faint and quivering beats the clock of the hotel announced the +hour to the promenaders on the beach. + +"It is time to eat, Nathaniel," said a slender, yet well-filled-out +young woman, who held a book between her fingers, to a formless +bundle, huddled in many shawls, by her side. Painfully the bundle +unfolded itself, stretched and grew gradually into the form of a +man--hollow chested, thin legged, narrow shouldered, attired in +flopping garments, such as one sees by the thousands on the coasts of +the Riviera in winter. + +The midday glow of the sun burned down upon the yellowish gray wall of +cliff into which the promenade of Nervi is hewn, and which slopes down +to the sea in a zigzag of towering bowlders. + +Upon the blue mirror of the sea sparkled a silvery meshwork of +sunbeams. So vast a fullness of light flooded the landscape that even +the black cypress trees which stood, straight and tall, beyond the +garden walls, seemed to glitter with a radiance of their own. The tide +was silent. Only the waters of the imprisoned springs that poured, +covered with iridescent bubbles, into the hollows between the rocks, +gurgled and sighed wearily. + +The breakfast bell brought a new pulsation of life to the huddled +figures on the beach. + +"He who eats is cured," is the motto of the weary creatures whose arms +are often too weak to carry their forks to their mouths. But he who +comes to this land of eternal summer merely to ease and rest his soul, +trembles with hunger in the devouring sweetness of the air and can +scarcely await the hour of food. + +With a gentle compulsion the young woman pushed the thin, wrinkled +hand of the invalid under her arm and led him carefully through a cool +and narrow road, which runs up to the town between high garden walls +and through which a treacherous draught blows even on the +sunniest days. + +"Are you sure your mouth is covered?" she asked, adapting her springy +gait with difficulty to the dragging steps of her companion. + +An inarticulate murmur behind the heavy shawl was his only answer. + +She stretched her throat a little--a round, white, firm throat, with +two little folds that lay rosy in the rounded flesh. Closing her eyes, +she inhaled passionately the aromatic perfumes of the neighbouring +gardens. It was a strange mixture of odours, like that which is wafted +from the herb chamber of an apothecary. A wandering sunbeam glided +over the firm, short curve of her cheek, which was of almost milky +whiteness, save for the faint redness of those veins which sleepless +nights bring out upon the pallid faces of full-blooded blondes. + +A laughing group of people went swiftly by--white-breeched Englishmen +and their ladies. The feather boas, whose ends fluttered in the wind, +curled tenderly about slender throats, and on the reddish heads bobbed +little round hats, smooth and shining as the tall head-gear of a +German postillion. + +The young woman cast a wistful glance after those happy folk, and +pressed more firmly the arm of her suffering husband. + +Other groups followed. It was not difficult to overtake this pair. + +"We'll be the last, Mary," Nathaniel murmured, with the invalid's +ready reproach. + +But the young woman did not hear. She listened to a soft chatting, +which, carried along between the sounding-boards of these high walls, +was clearly audible. The conversation was conducted in French, and she +had to summon her whole stock of knowledge in order not to lose the +full sense of what was said. "I hope, Madame, that your uncle is not +seriously ill?" + +"Not at all, sir. But he likes his comfort. And since walking bores +him, he prefers to pass his days in an armchair. And it's my function +to entertain him." An arch, pouting _voila_ closed the explanation. + +Next came a little pause. Then the male voice asked: + +"And are you never free, Madame?" + +"Almost never." + +"And may I never again hope for the happiness of meeting you on the +beach?" + +"But surely you may!" + +"_Mille remerciments; Madame_." + +A strangely soft restrained tone echoed in this simple word of thanks. +Secret desires murmured in it and unexpressed confessions. + +Mary, although she did not look as though she were experienced in +flirtation or advances, made a brief, timid gesture. Then, as though +discovered and ashamed, she remained very still. + +Those two then.... That's who it was.... + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +She was a delicately made and elegant Frenchwoman. Her bodice was cut +in a strangely slender way, which made her seem to glide along like a +bird. Or was it her walk that caused the phenomenon? Or the exquisite +arching of her shoulders? Who could tell? ... She did not take her +meals at the common table, but in a corner of the dining-hall in +company of an old gouty gentleman with white stubbles on his chin and +red-lidded eyes. When she entered the hall she let a smiling glance +glide along the table, but without looking at or saluting any one. She +scarcely touched the dishes--at least from the point of view of Mary's +sturdy appetite--but even before the soup was served she nibbled at +the dates meant for dessert, and then the bracelets upon her +incredibly delicate wrists made a strange, fairy music. She wore a +wedding ring. But it had always been open to doubt whether the old +gentleman was her husband. For her demeanour toward him was that of a +spoiled but sedulously watched child. + +And he--he sat opposite Mary at table. He was a very dark young man, +with black, melancholy eyes--Italian eyes, one called them in her +Pomeranian home land. He had remarkably white, narrow hands, and a +small, curly beard, which was clipped so close along the cheeks that +the skin itself seemed to have a bluish shimmer. He had never spoken +to Mary, presumably because he knew no German, but now and then he +would let his eyes rest upon her with a certain smiling emotion which +seemed to her to be very blameworthy and which filled her with +confusion. Thus, however, it had come to pass that, whenever she got +ready to go to table her thoughts were busy with him, and it was not +rare for her to ask herself at the opening of the door to the +dining-hall: "I wonder whether he's here or will come later?" + +For several days there had been noticeable in this young man an +inclination to gaze over his left shoulder to the side table at which +the young Frenchwoman sat. And several times this glance had met an +answering one, however fleeting. And more than that! She could be seen +observing him with smiling consideration as, between the fish and the +roast, she pushed one grape after another between her lips. He was, of +course, not cognisant of all that, but Mary knew of it and was +surprised and slightly shocked. + +And they had really made each others' acquaintance! + +And now they were both silent, thinking, obviously, that they had but +just come within hearing distance. + +Then they hurried past the slowly creeping couple. The lady looked +downward, kicking pebbles; the gentleman bowed. It was done seriously, +discreetly, as befits a mere neighbour at table. Mary blushed. That +happened often, far too often. And she was ashamed. Thus it happened +that she often blushed from fear of blushing. + +The gentleman saw it and did not smile. She thanked him for it in her +heart, and blushed all the redder, for he _might_ have smiled. + +"We'll have to eat the omelettes cold again," the invalid mumbled into +his shawls. + +This time she understood him. + +"Then we'll order fresh ones." + +"Oh," he said reproachfully, "you haven't the courage. You're always +afraid of the waiters." + +She looked up at him with a melancholy smile. + +It was true. She was afraid of the waiters. That could not be denied. +Her necessary dealings with these dark and shiny-haired gentlemen in +evening clothes were a constant source of fear and annoyance. They +scarcely gave themselves the trouble to understand her bad French and +her worse Italian. And when they dared to smile...! + +But his concern had been needless. The breakfast did not consist of +omelettes, but of macaroni boiled in water and mixed with long strings +of cheese. He was forbidden to eat this dish. + +Mary mixed his daily drink, milk with brandy, and was happy to see the +eagerness with which he absorbed the life-giving fumes. The dark +gentleman was already in his seat opposite her, and every now and then +the glance of his velvety eyes glided over her. She was more keenly +conscious of this glance than ever, and dared less than ever to meet +it. A strange feeling, half delight and half resentment, overcame her. +And yet she had no cause to complain that his attention passed the +boundary of rigid seemliness. + +She stroked her heavy tresses of reddish blonde hair, which curved +madonna-like over her temples. They had not been crimped or curled, +but were simple and smooth, as befits the wife of a North German +clergyman. She would have liked to moisten with her lips the fingers +with which she stroked them. This was the only art of the toilet which +she knew. But that would have been improper at table. + +He wore a yellow silk shirt with a pattern of riding crops. A bunch of +violets stuck in his button-hole. Its fragrance floated across +the table. + +Now the young Frenchwoman entered the hall too. Very carefully she +pressed her old uncle's arm, and talked to him in a stream of +charming chatter. + +The dark gentleman quivered. He compressed his lips but did not turn +around. Neither did the lady take any notice of him. She rolled bread +pellets with her nervous fingers, played with her bracelets and let +the dishes go by untouched. + +The long coat of cream silk, which she had put on, increased the tall +flexibility of her form. A being woven of sunlight and morning dew, +unapproachable in her serene distinction--thus she appeared to Mary, +whose hands had been reddened by early toil, and whose breadth of +shoulder was only surpassed by her simplicity of heart. + +When the roast came Nathaniel revived slightly. He suffered her to +fasten the shawl about his shoulders, and rewarded her with a +contented smile. It was her sister Anna's opinion that at such moments +he resembled the Saviour. The eyes in their blue hollows gleamed with +a ghostly light, a faint rosiness shone upon his cheek-bones, and even +the blonde beard on the sunken cheeks took on a certain glow. + +Grateful for the smile, she pressed his arm. She was satisfied with so +little. + +Breakfast was over. The gentleman opposite made his silent bow and +arose. + +"Will he salute her?" Mary asked herself with some inner timidity. + +No. He withdrew without glancing at the corner table. + +"Perhaps they have fallen out again," Mary; said to herself. The lady +looked after him. A gentle smile played about the corners of her +mouth--a superior, almost an ironical smile. Then, her eyes still +turned to the door, she leaned across toward the old gentleman in +eager questioning. + +"She doesn't care for him," Mary reasoned, with a slight feeling of +satisfaction. It was as though some one had returned to her what she +had deemed lost. + +He had been gone long, but his violets had left their fragrance. + +Mary went up to her room to get a warmer shawl for Nathaniel. As she +came out again, she saw in the dim hall the radiant figure of the +French lady come toward her and open the door to the left of her +own room. + +"So we are neighbours," Mary thought, and felt flattered by the +proximity. She would have liked to salute her, but she did not dare. + +Then she accompanied Nathaniel down to the promenade on the beach. The +hours dragged by. + +He did not like to have his brooding meditation interrupted by +questions or anecdotes. These hours were dedicated to getting well. +Every breath here cost money and must be utilised to the utmost. Here +breathing was religion, and falling ill a sin. + +Mary looked dreamily out upon the sea, to which the afternoon sun now +lent a deeper blue. Light wreaths of foam eddied about the stones. In +wide semicircles the great and shadowy arms of the mountains embraced +the sea. From the far horizon, in regions of the upper air, came from +time to time an argent gleam. For there the sun was reflected by +unseen fields of snow. + +There lay the Alps, and beyond them, deep buried in fog and winter, +lay their home land. + +Thither Mary's thoughts wandered. They wandered to a sharp-gabled +little house, groaning under great weights of snow, by the strand of a +frozen stream. The house was so deeply hidden in bushes that the +depending boughs froze fast in the icy river and were not liberated +till the tardy coming of spring. + +And a hundred paces from it stood the white church and the comfortable +parsonage. But what did she care for the parsonage, even though she +had grown to womanhood in it and was now its mistress? + +That little cottage--the widow's house, as the country folk called +it--that little cottage held everything that was dear to her at home. +There sat by the green tile oven--and oh, how she missed it here, +despite the palms and the goodly sun--her aged mother, the former +pastor's widow, and her three older sisters, dear and blonde and thin +and almost faded. There they sat, worlds away, needy and laborious, +and living but in each others' love. Four years had passed since the +father had been carried to the God's acre and they had had to leave +the parsonage. + +That had marked the end of their happiness and their youth. They could +not move to the city, for they had no private means, and the gifts of +the poor congregation, a dwelling, wood and other donations, could not +be exchanged for money. And so they had to stay there quietly and see +their lives wither. + +The candidate of theology, Nathaniel Pogge, equipped with mighty +recommendations, came to deliver his trial sermon. + +As he ascended the pulpit, long and frail, flat-chested and narrow +shouldered, she saw him for the first time. His emaciated, freckled +hand which held the hymn book, trembled with a kind of fever. But his +blue eyes shone with the fires of God. To be sure, his voice sounded +hollow and hoarse, and often he had to struggle for breath in the +middle of a sentence. But what he said was wise and austere, and found +favour in the eyes of his congregation. + +His mother moved with him into the parsonage. She was a small, fussy +lady, energetic and very business-like, who complained of what she +called previous mismanagement and seemed to avoid friendly relations. + +But her son found his way to the widow's house for all that. He found +it oftener and oftener, and the only matter of uncertainty was as to +which of the four sisters had impressed him. + +She would never have dreamed that his eye had fallen upon her, the +youngest. But a refusal was not to be thought of. It was rather her +duty to kiss his hands in gratitude for taking her off her mother's +shoulders and liberating her from a hopeless situation. Certainly she +would not have grudged her happiness to one of her sisters; if it +could be called happiness to be subject to a suspicious mother-in-law +and the nurse of a valetudinarian. But she tried to think it +happiness. And, after all, there was the widow's house, to which one +could slip over to laugh or to weep one's fill, as the mood of the +hour dictated. Either would have been frowned upon at home. + +And of course she loved him. + +Assuredly. How should she not have loved him? Had she not sworn to do +so at the altar? And then his condition grew worse from day to day and +needed her love all the more. + +It happened ever oftener that she had to get up at night to heat his +moss tea; and ever more breathlessly he cowered in the sacristy after +his weekly sermon. And that lasted until the hemorrhage came, which +made the trip south imperative. + +Ah, and with what grave anxieties had this trip been undertaken! A +substitute had to be procured. Their clothes and fares swallowed the +salary of many months. They had to pay fourteen francs board a day, +not to speak of the extra expenses for brandy, milk, fires and drugs. +Nor was this counting the physician who came daily. It was a desperate +situation. + +But he recovered. At least it was unthinkable that he shouldn't. What +object else would these sacrifices have had? + +He recovered. The sun and sea and air cured him; or, at least, her +love cured him. And this love, which Heaven had sent her as her +highest duty, surrounded him like a soft, warm garment, exquisitely +flexible to the movement of every limb, not hindering, but yielding to +the slightest impulse of movement; forming a protection against the +rough winds of the world, surer than a wall of stone or a cloak +of fire. + +The sun sank down toward the sea. His light assumed a yellow, metallic +hue, hard and wounding, before it changed and softened into violet and +purple shades. The group of pines on the beach seemed drenched in a +sulphurous light and the clarity of their outlines hurt the eye. Like + a heavy and compact mass, ready to hurtle down, the foliage of the +gardens bent over the crumbling walls. From the mountains came a gusty +wind that announced the approaching fall of night. + +The sick man shivered. Mary was about to suggest their going home, +when she perceived the form of a man that had intruded between her and +the sinking sun and that was surrounded by a yellow radiance. She +recognised the dark gentleman. + +A feeling of restlessness overcame her, but she could not turn her +eyes from him. Always, when he was near, a strange presentiment came +to her--a dreamy knowledge of an unknown land. This impression varied +in clearness. To-night she was fully conscious of it. + +What she felt was difficult to put into words. She seemed almost to be +afraid of him. And yet that was impossible, for what was he to her? +She wasn't even interested in him. Surely not. His eyes, his violet +fragrance, the flexible elegance of his movements--these things merely +aroused in her a faint curiosity. Strictly speaking, he wasn't even a +sympathetic personality, and had her sister Lizzie, who had a gift for +satire, been here, they would probably have made fun of him. The +anxious unquiet which he inspired must have some other source. Here +in the south everything was so different--richer, more colourful, more +vivid than at home. The sun, the sea, houses, flowers, faces--upon +them all lay more impassioned hues. Behind all that there must be a +secret hitherto unrevealed to her. + +She felt this secret everywhere. It lay in the heavy fragrance of the +trees, in the soft swinging of the palm leaves, in the multitudinous +burgeoning and bloom about her. It lay in the long-drawn music of the +men's voices, in the caressing laughter of the women. It lay in the +flaming blushes that, even at table, mantled her face; in the +delicious languor that pervaded her limbs and seemed to creep into the +innermost marrow of her bones. + +But this secret which she felt, scented and absorbed with every organ +of her being, but which was nowhere to be grasped, looked upon or +recognised--this secret was in some subtle way connected with the man +who stood there, irradiated, upon the edge of the cliff, and gazed +upon the ancient tower which stood, unreal as a piece of stage +scenery, upon the path. + +Now he observed her. + +For a moment it seemed as though he were about to approach to address +her. In his character of a neighbour at table he might well have +ventured to do so. But the hasty gesture with which she turned to +her sick husband forbade it. + +"That would be the last inconvenience," Mary thought, "to make +acquaintances." + +But as she was going home with her husband, she surprised herself in +speculation as to how she might have answered his words. + +"My French will go far enough," she thought. "At need I might have +risked it." + +The following day brought a sudden lapse in her husband's recovery. + +"That happens often," said the physician, a bony consumptive with the +manners of a man of the world and an equipment in that inexpensive +courtesy which doctors are wont to assume in hopeless and poorly +paying cases. + +To listen to him one would think that pulmonary consumption ended in +invariable improvement. + +"And if something happens during the night?" Mary asked anxiously. + +"Then just wait quietly until morning," the doctor said with the firm +decision of a man who doesn't like to have his sleep disturbed. + +Nathaniel had to stay in bed and Mary was forced to request the +waiters to bring meals up to their room. + +Thus passed several days, during which she scarcely left the sick-bed +of her husband. And when she wasn't writing home, or reading to him +from the hymn book, or cooking some easing draught upon the spirit +lamp, she gazed dreamily out of the window. + +She had not seen her beautiful neighbour again. With all the more +attention she sought to catch any sound, any word that might give her +a glimpse into the radiant Paradise of that other life. + +A soft singing ushered in the day. Then followed a laughing chatter +with the little maid, accompanied by the rattle of heated +curling-irons and splashing of bath sponges. Occasionally, too, there +was a little dispute on the subject of ribands or curls or such +things. Mary's French, which was derived from the _Histoire de Charles +douze,_ the _Aventures de Télémaque_ and other lofty books, found an +end when it came to these discussions. + +About half-past ten the lady slipped from her room. Then one could +hear her tap at her uncle's door, or call a laughing good-morning to +him from the hall. + +From now on the maid reigned supreme in the room. She straightened it, +sang, rattled the curling-irons even longer than for her mistress, +tripped up and down, probably in front of the mirror, and received the +kindly attentions of several waiters. From noon on everything was +silent and remained silent until dusk. Then the lady returned. The +little songs she sang were of the very kind that one might well sing +if, with full heart, one gazes out upon the sea, while the +orange-blossoms are fragrant and the boughs of the eucalyptus rustle. +They proved to Mary that in that sunny creature, as in herself, there +dwelt that gentle, virginal yearning that had always been to her a +source of dreamy happiness. + +At half-past five o'clock the maid knocked at the door. Then began +giggling and whispering as of two school-girls. Again sounded the +rattle of the curling-irons and the rustling of silken skirts. The +fragrance of unknown perfumes and essences penetrated into Mary's +room, and she absorbed it eagerly. + +The dinner-bell rang and the room was left empty. + +At ten o'clock there resounded a merry: "_Bonne nuit, mon oncle!_" + +Angeline, the maid, received her mistress at the door and performed +the necessary services more quietly than before. Then she went out, +received by the waiters, who were on the stairs. + +Then followed, in there, a brief evening prayer, carelessly and half +poutingly gabbled as by a tired child. At eleven the keyhole grew +dark. And during the hours of Mary's heaviest service, there sounded +within the peaceful drawing of uninterrupted breath. + +This breathing was a consolation to her during the terrible, creeping +hours, whose paralysing monotony was only interrupted by anxious +crises in the patient's condition. + +The breathing seemed to her a greeting from a pure and sisterly +soul--a greeting from that dear land of joy where one can laugh by day +and sing in the dusk and sleep by night. + +Nathaniel loved the hymns for the dying. + +He asserted that they filled him with true mirth. The more he could +gibe at hell or hear the suffering of the last hours put to scorn, the +more could he master a kind of grim humour. He, the shepherd of souls, +felt it his duty to venture upon the valley of the shadow to which he +had so often led the trembling candidate of death, with the boldness +of a hero in battle. + +This poor, timid soul, who had never been able to endure the angry +barking of a dog, played with the terror of death like a bull-necked +gladiator. + +"Read me a song of death, but a strengthening one," he would say +repeatedly during the day, but also at night, if he could not sleep. +He needed it as a child needs its cradle song. Often he was angry +when in her confusion and blinded by unshed tears, she chose a wrong +one. Like a literary connoisseur who rolls a Horatian ode or a +Goethean lyric upon his tongue--even thus he enjoyed these +sombre stanzas. + +There was one: "I haste to my eternal home," in which the beyond was +likened to a bridal chamber and to a "crystal sea of blessednesses." +There was another: "Greatly rejoice now, O my soul," which would admit +no redeeming feature about this earth, and was really a prayer for +release. And there was one filled with the purest folly of +Christendom: "In peace and joy I fare from hence." And this one +promised a smiling sleep. But they were all overshadowed by that +rejoicing song: "Thank God, the hour has come!" which, like a cry of +victory, points proudly and almost sarcastically to the conquered +miseries of the earth. + +The Will to Live of the poor flesh intoxicated itself with these pious +lies as with some hypnotic drug. But at the next moment it recoiled +and gazed yearningly and eager eyed out into the sweet and sinful +world, which didn't tally in the least with that description of it as +a vale of tears, of which the hymns were so full. + +Mary read obediently what he demanded. Close to her face she held the +narrow hymn-book, fighting down her sobs. For he did not think of +the tortures he prepared for his anxiously hoping wife. + +Why did he thirst for death since he knew that he _must_ not die? + +Not yet. Ah, not yet! Now that suddenly a whole, long, unlived life +lay between them--a life they had never even suspected. + +She could not name it, this new, rich life, but she felt it +approaching, day by day. It breathed its fragrant breath into her face +and poured an exquisite bridal warmth into her veins. + +It was on the fourth day of his imprisonment in his room. The +physician had promised him permission to go out on the morrow. + +His recovery was clear. + +She sat at the window and inhaled with quivering nostrils the sharp +fragrance of the burning pine cones that floated to her in +bluish waves. + +The sun was about to set. An unknown bird sat, far below, in the +orange grove and, as if drunk with light and fragrance, chirped +sleepily and ended with a fluting tone. + +Now that the great dread of the last few days was taken from her, that +sweet languor the significance of which she could not guess came over +her again. + +Her neighbour had already come home. She opened her window and closed +it, only to open it again. From time to time she sang a few brief +tones, almost like the strange bird in the grove. + +Then her door rattled and Angeline's voice cried out with jubilant +laughter: "_Une lettre, Madame, une lettre_!" + +"_Une lettre--de qui?_" + +"_De lui!_" + +Then a silence fell, a long silence. + +Who was this "he?" Surely some one at home. It was the hour of the +mail delivery. + +But the voice of the maid soon brought enlightenment. + +She had managed the affair cleverly. She had met him in the hall and +saluted him so that he had found the courage to address her. And just +now he had pressed the envelope, together with a twenty-franc piece, +into her hand. He asserted that he had an important communication to +make to her mistress, but had never found an opportunity to address +himself to her in person. + +"_Tais-toi donc--on nous entend_!" + +And from now on nothing was to be heard but whispering and giggling. + +Mary felt now a wave of hotness, started from her nape and overflowing +her face. + +Listening and with beating heart, she sat there. + +What in all the world could he have written? For that it was he, she +could no longer doubt. + +Perhaps he had declared his love and begged for the gift of her hand. + A dull feeling of pain, the cause of which was dark to her, +oppressed her heart. + +And then she smiled--a smile of renouncement, although there was +surely nothing here for her to renounce! + +And anyhow--the thing was impossible. For she, to whom such an offer +is made does not chat with a servant girl. Such an one flees into some +lonely place, kneels down, and prays to God for enlightenment and +grace in face of so important a step. + +But indeed she did send the girl away, for the latter's slippers could +he heard trailing along the hall. + +Then was heard gentle, intoxicated laughter, full of restrained +jubilation and arch triumph: "_O comme je suis heureuse! Comme je suis +heureuse!"_ + +Mary felt her eyes grow moist. She felt glad and poignantly sad at the +same time. She would have liked to kiss and bless the other woman, for +now it was clear that he had come to claim her as his bride. + +"If she doesn't pray, I will pray for her," she thought, and folded +her hands. Then a voice sounded behind her, hollow as the roll of +falling earth; rasping as coffin cords: + +"Read me a song of death, Mary." + +A shudder came over her. She jumped up. And she who had hitherto +taken up the hymn-book at his command without hesitation or complaint, +fell down beside his bed and grasped his emaciated arm: "Have pity--I +can't! I can't!" + +Three days passed. The sick man preferred to stay in bed, although his +recovery made enormous strides. Mary brewed his teas, gave him his +drops, and read him his songs of death. That one attempt at rebellion +had remained her only one. + +She heard but little of her neighbour. It seemed that that letter had +put an end to her talkative merriment. The happiness which she had so +jubilantly confessed seemed to have been of brief duration. + +And in those hours when Mary was free to pursue her dreams, she shared +the other's yearning and fear. Probably the old uncle had made +difficulties; had refused his consent, or even demanded the separation +of the lovers. + +Perhaps the dark gentleman had gone away. Who could tell? + +"What strange eyes he had," she thought at times, and whenever she +thought that, she shivered, for it seemed to her that his hot, veiled +glance was still upon her. + +"I wonder whether he is really a good man?" she asked herself. She +would have liked to answer this question in the affirmative, but there + was something that kept her from doing so. And there was another +something in her that took but little note of that aspect, but only +prayed that those two might be happy together, happy as she herself +had never been, happy as--and here lay the secret. + +It was a Sunday evening, the last one in January. + +Nathaniel lay under the bed-clothes and breathed with difficulty. His +fever was remarkably low, but he was badly smothered. + +The lamp burned on the table--a reading lamp had been procured with +difficulty and had been twice carried off in favour of wealthier +guests. Toward the bed Mary had shaded the lamp with a piece of red +blotting paper from her portfolio. A rosy shimmer poured out over the +couch of the ill man, tinted the red covers more red, and caused a +deceptive glow of health to appear on his cheek. + +The flasks and vials on the table glittered with an equivocal +friendliness, as though something of the demeanour of him who had +prescribed their contents adhered to them. + +Between them lay the narrow old hymnal and the gilt figures, "1795" +shimmered in the middle of the worn and shabby covers. + +The hour of retirement had come. The latest of the guests, returning +from the reading room, had said good-night to each other in the +hall. Angeline had been dismissed. Her giggles floated away into +silence along the bannisters and the last of her adorers tiptoed by to +turn out the lights. + +From the next room there came no sound. She was surely asleep, +although her breathing was inaudible. + +Mary sat at the table. Her head was heavy and she stared into the +luminous circle of the lamp. She needed sleep. Yet she was not sleepy. +Every nerve in her body quivered with morbid energy. + +A wish of the invalid called her to his side. + +"The pillow has a lump," he said, and tried to turn over on his other +side. + +Ah, these pillows of sea-grass. She patted, she smoothed, she did her +best, but his head found no repose. + +"Here's another night full of the torment and terror of the flesh," he +said with difficulty, mouthing each word. + +"Do you want a drink?" she asked. + +He shook his head. + +"The stuff is bitter--but you see--this fear--there's the air and it +fills everything--they say it's ten miles high--and a man like myself +can't--get enough--you see I'm getting greedy." The mild jest upon +his lips was so unwonted that it frightened her. + +"I'd like to ask you to open the window." + +She opposed him. + +"The night air," she urged; "the draught----" + +But that upset him. + +"If you can't do me so small a favour in my suffering--" + +"Forgive me," she said, "it was only my anxiety for you--" + +She got up and opened the French window that gave upon a narrow +balcony. + +The moonlight flooded the room. + +Pressing her hands to her breast, she inhaled the first aromatic +breath of the night air which cooled and caressed her hot face. + +"Is it better so?" she asked, turning around. + +He nodded. "It is better so." + +Then she stepped out on the balcony. She could scarcely drink her fill +of air and moonlight. + +But she drew back, affrighted. What she had just seen was like an +apparition. + +On the neighbouring balcony stood, clad in white, flowing garments of +lace, a woman's figure, and stared with wide open eyes into the +moonlight. + +It was she--her friend. + +Softly Mary stepped out again and observed her, full of shy curiosity. + The moonlight shone full upon the delicate slim face, that seemed to +shine with an inner radiance. The eye had a yearning glow. A smile, +ecstatic and fearful at once, made the lips quiver, and the hands that +grasped the iron railing pulsed as if in fear and expectation. + +Mary heard her own heart begin to beat. A hot flush rose into her +face? + +What was all that? What did it mean? + +Such a look, such a smile, she had never seen in her life. And yet +both seemed infinitely familiar to her. Thus a woman must look who-- + +She had no time to complete the thought, for a fit of coughing +recalled her to Nathaniel. + +A motion of his hand directed her to close the window and the +shutters. It would have been better never to have opened them. Better +for her, too, perhaps. + +Then she sat down next to him and held his head until the paroxysm was +over. + +He sank back, utterly exhausted. His hand groped for hers. With +abstracted caresses she touched his weary fingers. + +Her thoughts dwelt with that white picture without. That poignant +feeling of happiness that she had almost lost during the past few +days, arose in her with a hitherto unknown might. + +And now the sick man began to speak. + +"You have always been good to me, Mary," he said. "You have always +had patience with me." + +"Ah, don't speak so," she murmured. + +"And I wish I could say as full of assurance as you could before the +throne of God: 'Father, I have been true to the duty which you have +allotted to me.'" + +Her hand quivered in his. A feeling of revulsion smothered the +gentleness of their mood. His words had struck her as a reproach. + +Fulfillment of duty! That was the great law to which all human kind +was subject for the sake of God. This law had joined her hand to his, +had accompanied her into the chastity of her bridal bed, and had kept +its vigil through the years by her hearth and in her heart. And thus +love itself had not been difficult to her, for it was commanded to her +and consecrated before the face of God. + +And he? He wished for nothing more, knew nothing more. Indeed, what +lies beyond duty would probably have seemed burdensome to him, if not +actually sinful. + +But there was something more! She knew it now. She had seen it in that +glance, moist with yearning, lost in the light. + +There was something great and ecstatic and all-powerful, something +before which she quailed like a child who must go into the dark, +something that she desired with every nerve and fibre. + +Her eye fastened itself upon the purple square of blotting paper which +looked, in the light of the lamp, like glowing metal. + +She did not know how long she had sat there. It might have been +minutes or hours. Often enough the morning had caught her +brooding thus. + +The sick man's breath came with greater difficulty, his fingers +grasped hers more tightly. + +"Do you feel worse?" she asked. + +"I am a little afraid," he said; "therefore, read me----" + +He stopped, for he felt the quiver of her hand. + +"You know, if you don't want to--" He was wounded in his wretched +valetudinarian egotism, which was constantly on the scent of neglect. + +"Oh, but I do want to; I want to do everything that might----" + +She hurried to the table, pushed the glittering bottles aside, grasped +the hymnal and read at random. + +But she had to stop, for it was a prayer for rain that she had begun. + +Then, as she was turning the leaves of the book, she heard the hall +door of the next room open with infinite caution; she heard flying, +trembling footsteps cross the room from the balcony. + +_"Chut!"_ whispered a trembling voice. + +And the door closed as with a weary moan. + +What was that? + +A suspicion arose in her that brought the scarlet of shame into her +cheek. The whispering next door began anew, passionate, hasty, +half-smothered by anxiety and delight. Two voices were to be +distinguished: a lighter voice which she knew, and a duller voice, +broken into, now and then, by sonorous tones. + +The letters dislimned before her eyes. The hymn-book slipped from her +hands. In utter confusion she stared toward the door. + +_That_ really existed? Such things were possible in the world; +possible among people garbed in distinction, of careful Christian +training, to whom one looks up as to superior beings? + +There was a power upon earth that could make the delicate, radiant, +distinguished woman so utterly forget shame and dignity and +womanliness, that she would open her door at midnight to a man who had +not been wedded to her in the sight of God? + +If that could happen, what was there left to cling to in this world? +Where was one's faith in honour, fidelity, in God's grace and one's +own human worth? A horror took hold of her so oppressive that she +thought she must cry out aloud. + +With a shy glance she looked at her husband. God grant that he hear +nothing. + +She was ashamed before him. She desired to call out, to sing, laugh, +only to drown the noise of that whispering which assailed her ear like +the wave of a fiery sea. + +But no, he heard nothing. + +His sightless eyes stared at the ceiling. He was busied with his +breathing. His chest heaved and fell like a defective machine. + +He didn't even expect her to read to him now. She went up to the bed +and asked, listening with every nerve: "Do you want to sleep, +Nathaniel?" + +He lowered his eyelids in assent. + +"Yes--read," he breathed. + +"Shall I read softly?" + +Again he assented. + +"But read--don't sleep." + +Fear flickered in his eyes. + +"No, no," she stammered. + +He motioned her to go now, and again became absorbed in the problem of +breathing. + +Mary took up the hymnal. + +"You are to read a song of death," she said to herself, for her +promise must be kept. And as though she had not understood her own +admonition, she repeated: "You are to read a song of death." + +But her hearing was morbidly alert, and while the golden figures on +the book danced a ghostly dance before her eyes, she heard again what +she desired to hear. It was like the whispering of the wind against a +forbidden gate. She caught words: + +"_Je t'aime--follement--j'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour--mon +amour._" + +Mary closed her eyes. It seemed to her again as though hot waves +streamed over her. And she had lost shame, too. + +For there was something in all that which silenced reproach, which +made this monstrous deed comprehensible, even natural. If one was so +mad with love, if one felt that one could die of it! + +So that existed, and was not only the lying babble of romances? + +And her spirit returned and compared her own experience of love with +what she witnessed now. + +She had shrunk pitifully from his first kiss. When he had gone, she +had embraced her mother's knees, in fear and torment at the thought of +following this strange man. And she remembered how, on the evening of +her wedding, her mother had whispered into her ear, "Endure, my child, +and pray to God, for that is the lot of woman." And it was that +which, until to-day, she had called love. + +Oh, those happy ones there, those happy ones! + +"Mary," the hollow voice from the bed came. + +She jumped up. "What?" + +"You--don't read." + +"I'll read; I'll read." + +Her hands grovelled among the rough, sticky pages. An odour as of +decaying foliage, which she had never noted before, came from the +book. It was such an odour as comes from dark, ill-ventilated rooms, +and early autumn and everyday clothes. + +At last she found what she was seeking. "Kyrie eleison! Christe +eleison! Dear God, Father in heaven, have mercy upon us!" + +Her lips babbled what her eyes saw, but her heart and her senses +prayed another prayer: "Father in Heaven, who art love and mercy, do +not count for sin to those two that which they are committing against +themselves. Bless their love, even if they do not desire Thy blessing. +Send faithfulness into their hearts that they cleave to one another +and remain grateful for the bliss which Thou givest them. Ah, those +happy ones, those happy ones!" + +Tears came into her eyes. She bent her face upon the yellow leaves of +the book to hide her weeping. It seemed to her suddenly as though +she understood the speech spoken in this land of eternal spring by sun +and sea, by hedges of flowers and evergreen trees, by the song of +birds and the laughter of man. The secret which she had sought to +solve by day and by night lay suddenly revealed before her eyes. + +In a sudden change of feeling her heart grew cold toward that sinful +pair for which she had but just prayed. Those people became as +strangers to her and sank into the mist. Their whispering died away as +if it came from a great distance. + +It was her own life with which she was now concerned. Gray and morose +with its poverty stricken notion of duty, the past lay behind her. +Bright and smiling a new world floated into her ken. + +She had sworn to love him. She had cheated him. She had let him know +want at her side. + +Now that she knew what love was, she would reward him an hundred-fold. +She, too, could love to madness, to adoration, to death. And she must +love so, else she would die of famishment. + +Her heart opened. Waves of tenderness, stormy, thunderous, mighty, +broke forth therefrom. + +Would he desire all that love? And understand it? Was he worthy +of it? What did that matter? + +She must give, give without measure and without reward, without +thought and without will, else she would smother under all her riches. + +And though he was broken and famished and mean of mind and wretched, a +weakling in body and a dullard in soul; and though he lay there +emaciated and gasping, a skeleton almost, moveless, half given over to +dust and decay--what did it matter? + +She loved him, loved him with that new and great love because he alone +in all the world was her own. He was that portion of life and light +and happiness which fate had given her. + +She sprang up and stretched out her arms toward him. + +"You my only one, my all," she whispered, folding her hands under her +chin and staring at him. + +His chest seemed quieter. He lay there in peace. + +Weeping with happiness, she threw herself down beside him and kissed +his hands. And then, as he took no notice of all that, a slow +astonishment came over her. Also, she had an insecure feeling that his +hand was not as usual. + +Powerless to cry out, almost to breathe, she looked upon him. She +felt his forehead; she groped for his heart. All was still and cold. +Then she knew. + +The bell--the waiters--the physician--to what purpose? There was no +need of help here. She knelt down and wanted to pray, and make up for +her neglect. + +A vision arose before her: the widow's house at home; her mother; the +tile oven; her old maidenish sisters rattling their wooden crocheting +hooks--and she herself beside them, her blonde hair smoothed with +water, a little riband at her breast, gazing out upon the frozen +fields, and throttling, throttling with love. For he whom fate had +given her could use her love no longer. + +From the next room sounded the whispering, monotonous, broken, +assailing her ears in glowing waves: + +"_J'en mourrai--je t'adore--mon amour._" + +That was his song of death. She felt that it was her own, too. + + + + + +THE VICTIM + + +Madame Nelson, the beautiful American, had come to us from Paris, +equipped with a phenomenal voice and solid Italian technique. She had +immediately sung her way into the hearts of Berlin music-lovers, +provided that you care to call a mixture of snobbishness, +sophisticated impressionableness and goose-like imitativeness--heart. +She had, therefore, been acquired by one of our most distinguished +opera houses at a large salary and with long leaves of absence. I use +the plural of opera house in order that no one may try to scent out +the facts. + +Now we had her, more especially our world of Lotharios had her. Not +the younger sons of high finance, who make the boudoirs unsafe with +their tall collars and short breeches; nor the bearers of ancient +names who, having hung up their uniforms in the evening, assume +monocle and bracelet and drag these through second and third-class +drawing-rooms. No, she belonged to those worthy men of middle age, who +have their palaces in the west end, whose wives one treats with +infinite respect, and to whose evenings one gives a final touch of +elegance by singing two or three songs for nothing. + +Then she committed her first folly. She went travelling with an +Italian tenor. "For purposes of art," was the official version. But +the time for the trip--the end of August--had been unfortunately +chosen. And, as she returned ornamented with scratches administered by +the tenor's pursuing wife--no one believed her. + +Next winter she ruined a counsellor of a legation and magnate's son so +thoroughly that he decamped to an unfrequented equatorial region, +leaving behind him numerous promissory notes of questionable value. + +This poor fellow was revenged the following winter by a dark-haired +Roumanian fiddler, who beat her and forced her to carry her jewels to +a pawnshop, where they were redeemed at half price by their original +donour and used to adorn the plump, firm body of a stupid little +ballet dancer. + +Of course her social position was now forfeited. But then Berlin +forgets so rapidly. She became proper again and returned to her +earlier inclinations for gentlemen of middle life with extensive +palaces and extensive wives. So there were quite a few houses--none of +the strictest tone, of course--that were very glad to welcome the +radiant blonde with her famous name and fragrant and modest +gowns--from Paquin at ten thousand francs a piece. + +At the same time she developed a remarkable business instinct. Her +connections with the stock exchange permitted her to speculate without +the slightest risk. For what gallant broker would let a lovely woman +lose? Thus she laid the foundation of a goodly fortune, which was made +to assume stately proportions by a tour through the United States, and +was given a last touch of solidity by a successful speculation in +Dresden real estate. + +Furthermore, it would be unjust to conceal the fact that her most +recent admirer, the wool manufacturer Wormser, had a considerable +share in this hurtling rise of her fortunes. + +Wormser guarded his good repute carefully. He insisted that his +illegitimate inclinations never lack the stamp of highest elegance. He +desired that they be given the greatest possible publicity at +race-meets and first nights. He didn't care if people spoke with a +degree of rancour, if only he was connected with the temporary lady of +his heart. + +Now, to be sure, there was a Mrs. Wormser. She came of a good +Frankfort family. Dowry: a million and a half. She was modern to the +very tips of her nervous, restless fingers. + +This lady was inspired by such lofty social ideals that she would +have considered an inelegant _liaison_ on her husband's part, an +insult not only offered to good taste in general, but to her own in +particular. Such an one she would, never have forgiven. On the other +hand, she approved of Madame Nelson thoroughly. She considered her the +most costly and striking addition to her household. Quite +figuratively, of course. Everything was arranged with the utmost +propriety. At great charity festivals the two ladies exchanged a +friendly glance, and they saw to it that their gowns were never made +after the same model. + +Then it happened that the house of Wormser was shaken. It wasn't a +serious breakdown, but among the good things that had to be thrown +overboard belonged--at the demand of the helping Frankforters--Madame +Nelson. + +And so she waited, like a virgin, for love, like a man in the weather +bureau, for a given star. She felt that her star was yet to rise. + +This was the situation when, one day, Herr von Karlstadt had himself +presented to her. He was a captain of industry; international +reputation; ennobled; the not undistinguished son of a great father. +He had not hitherto been found in the market of love, but it was said +of him that notable women had committed follies for his sake. All in +all, he was a man who commanded the general interest in quite a +different measure from Wormser. + +But artistic successes had raised Madame Nelson's name once more, too, +and when news of the accomplished fact circulated, society found it +hard to decide as to which of the two lent the other a more brilliant +light, or which was the more to be envied. + +However that was, history was richer by a famous pair of lovers. + +But, just as there had been a Mrs. Wormser, so there was a Mrs. von +Karlstadt. + +And it is this lady of whom I wish to speak. + +Mentally as well as physically Mara von Karlstadt did not belong to +that class of persons which imperatively commands the attention of the +public. She was sensitive to the point of madness, a little sensuous, +something of an enthusiast, coquettish only in so far as good taste +demanded it, and hopelessly in love with her husband. She was in love +with him to the extent that she regarded the conquests which +occasionally came to him, spoiled as he was, as the inevitable +consequences of her fortunate choice. They inspired her with a certain +woeful anger and also with a degree of pride. + +The daughter of a great land owner in South Germany, she had been +brought up in seclusion, and had learned only very gradually how to +glide unconcernedly through the drawing-rooms. A tense smile upon her +lips, which many took for irony, was only a remnant of her old +diffidence. Delicate, dark in colouring, with a fine cameo-like +profile, smooth hair and a tawny look in her near-sighted eyes--thus +she glided about in society, and few but friends of the house took any +notice of her. + +And this woman who found her most genuine satisfaction in the +peacefulness of life, who was satisfied if she could slip into her +carriage at midnight without the annoyance of one searching glance, of +one inquiring word, saw herself suddenly and without suspecting the +reason, become the centre of a secret and almost insulting curiosity. +She felt a whispering behind her in society; she saw from her box the +lenses of many opera glasses pointing her way. + +The conversation of her friends began to teem with hints, and into the +tone of the men whom she knew there crept a kind of tender compassion +which pained her even though she knew not how to interpret it. + +For the present no change was to be noted in the demeanour of her +husband. His club and his business had always kept him away from home +a good deal, and if a few extra hours of absence were now added, it +was easy to account for these in harmless ways, or rather, not to +account for them at all, since no one made any inquiry. + +Then, however, anonymous letters began to come--thick, fragrant ones +with stamped coronets, and thin ones on ruled paper with the smudges +of soiled fingers. + +She burned the first batch; the second she handed to her husband. + +The latter, who was not far from forty, and who had trained himself to +an attitude of imperious brusqueness, straightened up, knotted his +bushy Bismarck moustache, and said: + +"Well, suppose it is true. What have you to lose?" + +She did not burst into tears of despair; she did not indulge in fits +of rage; she didn't even leave the room with quiet dignity; her soul +seemed neither wounded nor broken. She was not even affrighted. She +only thought: "I have forgiven him so much; why not forgive him +this, too?" + +And as she had shared him before without feeling herself degraded, so +she would try to share him again. + +But she soon observed that this logic of the heart would prove wanting +in this instance. + +In former cases she had concealed his weakness under a veil of care +and considerateness. The fear of discovery had made a conscious but +silent accessory of her. When it was all over she breathed deep relief +at the thought; "I am the only one who even suspected." + +This time all the world seemed invited to witness the spectacle. + +For now she understood all that, in recent days had tortured her like +an unexplained blot, an alien daub in the face which every one sees +but he whom it disfigures. Now she knew what the smiling hints of her +friends and the consoling desires of men had meant. Now she recognised +the reason why she was wounded by the attention of all. + +She was "the wife of the man whom Madame Nelson ..." + +And so torturing a shame came upon her as though she herself were the +cause of the disgrace with which the world seemed to overwhelm her. + +This feeling had not come upon her suddenly. At first a stabbing +curiosity had awakened in her a self-torturing expectation, not +without its element of morbid attraction. Daily she asked herself: +"What will develope to-day?" + +With quivering nerves and cramped heart, she entered evening after +evening, for the season was at its height, the halls of strangers on +her husband's arm. + +And it was always the same thing. The same glances that passed from +her to him and from him to her, the same compassionate sarcasm upon +averted faces, the same hypocritical delicacy in conversation, the +same sudden silence as soon as she turned to any group of people to +listen--the same cruel pillory for her evening after evening, night +after night. + +And if all this had not been, she would have felt it just the same. + +And in these drawing-rooms there were so many women whose husbands' +affairs were the talk of the town. Even her predecessor, Mrs. Wormser, +had passed over the expensive immorality of her husband with a +self-sufficing smile and a condescending jest, and the world had bowed +down to her respectfully, as it always does when scenting a +temperament that it is powerless to wound. + +Why had this martyrdom come to her, of all people? + +Thus, half against her own will, she began to hide, to refuse this or +that invitation, and to spend the free evenings in the nursery, +watching over the sleep of her boys and weaving dreams of a new +happiness. The illness of her older child gave her an excuse for +withdrawing from society altogether and her husband did not +restrain her. + +It had never come to an explanation between them, and as he was always +considerate, even tender, and as sharp speeches were not native to +her temper, the peace of the home was not disturbed. + +Soon it seemed to her, too, as though the rude inquisitiveness of the +world were slowly passing away. Either one had abandoned the critical +condition of her wedded happiness for more vivid topics, or else she +had become accustomed to the state of affairs. + +She took up a more social life, and the shame which she had felt in +appearing publicly with her husband gradually died out. + +What did not die out, however, was a keen desire to know the nature +and appearance of the woman in whose hands lay her own destiny. How +did she administer the dear possession that fate had put in her power? +And when and how would she give it back? + +She threw aside the last remnant of reserve and questioned friends. +Then, when she was met by a smile of compassionate ignorance, she +asked women. These were more ready to report. But she would not and +could not believe what she was told. He had surely not degraded +himself into being one of a succession of moneyed rakes. It was clear +to her that, in order to soothe her grief, people slandered the woman +and him with her. + +In order to watch her secretly, she veiled heavily and drove to the +theatre where Madame Nelson was singing. Shadowlike she cowered +in the depths of a box which she had rented under an assumed name and +followed with a kind of pained voluptuousness the ecstasies of love +which the other woman, fully conscious of the victorious loveliness of +her body, unfolded for the benefit of the breathless crowd. + +With such an abandoned raising of her radiant arms, she threw herself +upon _his_ breast; with that curve of her modelled limbs, she lay +before _his_ knees. + +And in her awakened a reverent, renouncing envy of a being who had so +much to give, beside whom she was but a dim and poor shadow, weary +with motherhood, corroded with grief. + +At the same time there appeared a California mine owner, a +multi-millionaire, with whom her husband had manifold business +dealings. He introduced his daughters into society and himself gave a +number of luxurious dinners at which he tried to assemble guests of +the most exclusive character. + +Just as they were about to enter a carriage to drive to the "Bristol," +to one of these dinners, a message came which forced Herr von +Karlstadt to take an immediate trip to his factories. He begged his +wife to go instead, and she did not refuse. + +The company was almost complete and the daughter of the mine owner +was doing the honours of the occasion with appropriate grace when the +doors of the reception room opened for the last time and through the +open doorway floated rather than walked--Madame Nelson. + +The petrified little group turned its glance of inquisitive horror +upon Mrs. von Karlstadt, while the mine owner's daughter adjusted the +necessary introductions with a grand air. + +Should she go or not? No one was to be found who would offer her his +arm. Her feet were paralysed. And she remained. + +The company sat down at table. And since fate, in such cases, never +does its work by halves, it came to pass that Madame Nelson was +assigned to a seat immediately opposite her. + +The people present seemed grateful to her that they had not been +forced to witness a scene, and overwhelmed her with delicate signs of +this gratitude. Slowly her self-control returned to her. She dared to +look about her observantly, and, behold, Madame Nelson appealed +to her. + +Her French was faultless, her manners equally so, and when the +Californian drew her into the conversation, she practised the delicate +art of modest considerateness to the extent of talking past Mrs. von +Karlstadt in such a way that those who did not know were not +enlightened and those who knew felt their anxiety depart. + +In order to thank her for this alleviation of a fatally painful +situation, Mrs. von Karlstadt occasionally turned perceptibly toward +the singer. For this Madame Nelson was grateful in her turn. Thus +their glances began to meet in friendly fashion, their voices to +cross, the atmosphere became less constrained from minute to minute, +and when the meal was over the astonished assembly had come to the +conclusion that Mrs. von Karlstadt was ignorant of the true state +of affairs. + +The news of this peculiar meeting spread like a conflagration. Her +women friends hastened to congratulate her on her strength of mind; +her male friends praised her loftiness of spirit. She went through the +degradation which she had suffered as though it were a triumph. Only +her husband went about for a time with an evil conscience and a +frowning forehead. + +Months went by. The quietness of summer intervened, but the memory of +that evening rankled in her and blinded her soul. Slowly the thought +arose in her which was really grounded in vanity, but looked, in its +execution, like suffering love--the thought that she would legitimise +her husband's irregularity in the face of society. + +Hence when the season began again she wrote a letter to Madame Nelson +in which she invited her, in a most cordial way, to sing at an +approaching function in her home. She proffered this request, not only +in admiration of the singer's gifts, but also, as she put it, "to +render nugatory a persistent and disagreeable rumour." + +Madame Nelson, to whom this chance of repairing her fair fame was very +welcome, had the indiscretion to assent, and even to accept the +condition of entire secrecy in regard to the affair. + +The chronicler may pass over the painful evening in question with +suitable delicacy of touch. Nothing obvious or crass took place. +Madame Nelson sang three enchanting songs, accompanied by a first-rate +pianist. A friend of the house of whom the hostess had requested this +favour took Madame Nelson to the _buffet_. A number of guileless +individuals surrounded that lady with hopeful adoration. An ecstatic +mood prevailed. The one regrettable feature of the occasion was that +the host had to withdraw--as quietly as possible, of course--on +account of a splitting head-ache. + +Berlin society, which felt wounded in the innermost depth of its +ethics, never forgave the Karlstadts for this evening. I believe that +in certain circles the event is still remembered, although years +have passed. + +Its immediate result, however, was a breach between man and wife. +Mara went to the Riviera, where she remained until spring. + +An apparent reconciliation was then patched up, but its validity was +purely external. + +Socially, too, things readjusted themselves, although people continued +to speak of the Karlstadt house with a smile that asked for +indulgence. + +Mara felt this acutely, and while her husband appeared oftener and +more openly with his mistress, she withdrew into the silence of her +inner chambers. + + * * * * * + +Then she took a lover. + +Or, rather, she was taken by him. + +A lonely evening ... A fire in the chimney ... A friend who came in by +accident ... The same friend who had taken care of Madame Nelson for +her on that memorable evening ... The fall of snow without ... A burst +of confidence ... A sob ... A nestling against the caressing hand ... +It was done ... + +Months passed. She experienced not one hour of intoxication, not one +of that inner absolution which love brings. It was moral slackness and +weariness that made her yield again.... + +Then the consequences appeared. + +Of course, the child could not, must not, be born. And it was not +born. One can imagine the horror of that tragic time: the criminal +flame of sleepless nights, the blood-charged atmosphere of guilty +despair, the moans of agony that had to be throttled behind +closed doors. + +What remained to her was lasting invalidism. + +The way from her bed to an invalid's chair was long and hard. + +Time passed. Improvements came and gave place to lapses in her +condition. Trips to watering-places alternated with visits to +sanatoriums. + +In those places sat the pallid, anaemic women who had been tortured +and ruined by their own or alien guilt. There they sat and engaged in +wretched flirtations with flighty neurasthenics. + +And gradually things went from bad to worse. The physicians shrugged +their friendly shoulders. + +And then it happened that Madame Nelson felt the inner necessity of +running away with a handsome young tutor. She did this less out of +passion than to convince the world--after having thoroughly fleeced +it--of the unselfishness of her feelings. For it was her ambition to +be counted among the great lovers of all time. + + * * * * * + +One evening von Karlstadt entered the sick chamber of his wife, sat +down beside her bed and silently took her hand. She was aware of +everything, and asked with a gentle smile upon her white lips: + +"Be frank with me: did you love her, at least?" + +He laughed shrilly. "What should have made me love this--business +lady?" + +They looked at each other long. Upon her face death had set its seal. +His hair was gray, his self-respect broken, his human worth +squandered.... + +And then, suddenly, they clung to each other, and leaned their +foreheads against each other, and wept. + + + + + +AUTUMN + + + + +Chapter I. + + +It was on a sunny afternoon in October. Human masses streamed through +the alleys of the _Tiergarten_. With the desperate passion of an +ageing woman who feels herself about to be deserted, the giant city +received the last caresses of summer. A dotted throng that was not +unlike the chaos of the _Champs Élysées_, filled the broad, gray road +that leads to Charlottenburg. + +Berlin, which cannot compete with any other great European city, as +far as the luxury of vehicular traffic is concerned, seemed to have +sent out to-day all it possessed in that kind. The weather was too +beautiful for closed _coupés_, and hence the comfortable family landau +was most in evidence. Only now and then did an elegant victoria glide +along, or an aristocratic four-in-hand demand the respectful yielding +of the crowd. + +A dog-cart of dark yellow, drawn by a magnificent trotter, attracted +the attention of experts. The noble animal, which seemed to feel the +security of the guiding hand, leaned, snorting, upon its bit. With far +out-reaching hind legs, it flew along, holding its neck moveless, as +became a scion of its race. + +The man who drove was sinewy, tall, about forty, with clear, gray +eyes, sharply cut profile and a close-clipped moustache. In his thin, +brownish cheeks were several deep scars, and between the straight, +narrow brows could be seen two salient furrows. + +His attire--an asphalt-gray, thick-seamed overcoat, a coloured shirt +and red gloves--did not deny the sportsman. His legs, which pressed +against the footboard, were clad in tight, yellow riding boots. + +Many people saluted him. He returned their salutations with that +careless courtesy which belongs to those who know themselves to have +transcended the judgment of men. + +If one of his acquaintances happened to be accompanied by a lady, he +bowed deeply and respectfully, but without giving the ladies in +question a single glance. + +People looked after him and mentioned his name: Baron von Stueckrath. + +Ah, that fellow ... + +And they looked around once more. + +At the square of the _Great Star_ he turned to the left, drove along +the river, passed the well-known resort called simply _The Tents_, +and stopped not far from the building of the general staff of the army +and drew up before a large distinguished house with a fenced front +garden and cast-iron gate to the driveway. + +He threw the reins to the groom, who sat statuesquely behind him, and +said: "Drive home." + +Jumping from the cart, he observed the handle of the scraper sticking +in the top of one of his boots. He drew it out, threw it on the seat, +and entered the house. + +The janitor, an old acquaintance, greeted him with the servile +intimacy of the tip-expecting tribe. + +On the second floor he stopped and pulled the bell whose glass knob +glittered above a neat brass plate. + +"Ludovika Kraissl," was engraved upon it. + +A maid, clad with prim propriety in a white apron and white lace cap, +opened the door. + +He entered and handed her his hat. + +"Is Madame at home?" + +"No, sir." + +He looked at her through half-closed lids, and observed how her +milk-white little madonna's face flushed to the roots of her +blonde hair. + +"Where did she go?" + +"Madame meant to go to the dressmaker," the girl stuttered, "and to +make some purchases." She avoided his eyes. She had been in service +only three months and had not yet perfected herself in lying. + +He whistled a tune between his set teeth and entered the drawing-room. + +A penetrating perfume streamed forth. + +"Open the window, Meta." + +She passed noiselessly through the room and executed his command. + +Frowning, he looked about him. The empty pomp of the light woman +offended his taste. The creature who lived here had a gift for filling +every corner with banal and tasteless trivialities. + +When he had turned over the flat to her it had been a charming little +place, full of delicate tints and the simple lines of Louis Seize +furniture. In a few years she had made a junk shop of it. + +"Would you care for tea, sir, or anything else?" the girl asked. + +"No, thank you. Pull off my boots, Meta. I'll change my dress and then +go out again." + +Modestly, almost humbly, she bowed before him and set his spurred foot +gently on her lap. Then she loosened the top straps. He let his glance +rest, well pleased, upon her smooth, silvery blonde hair. + +How would it work if he sent his mistress packing and installed this +girl in her place? + +But he immediately abandoned the thought. He had seen the thing done +by some of his friends. In a single year the chastest and most modest +servant girl was so thoroughly corrupted that she had to be driven +into the streets. + +"We men seem to emit a pestilential air," he reflected, "that corrupts +every woman." + +"Or at least men of my kind," he added carefully. + +"Have you any other wishes, sir?" asked the girl, daintily wiping her +hands on her apron. + +"No, thank you." + +She turned to the door. + +"One thing more, Meta. When did Madame say she would be back?" + +Her face was again mantled with blood. + +"She didn't say anything definite. I was to make her excuses. She +intended to return home by evening, at all events." + +He nodded and the girl went with a sigh of relief, gently closing the +door behind her. + +He continued to whistle, and looked up at a hanging lamp, which +defined itself against the window niche by means of a wreath of gay +artificial flowers. + +In this hanging lamp, which hung there unnoticed and unreachable from +the floor, he had, a year ago, quite by accident, discovered a store +of love letters. His mistress had concealed them there since she +evidently did not even consider the secret drawer of her desk a +sufficiently safe repository. + +He had carefully kept the secret of the lamp to himself, and had only +fed his grim humour from time to time by observing the changes of her +heart by means of added missives. In this way he had been able to +observe the number of his excellent friends with whom she +deceived him. + +Thus his contempt for mankind assumed monstrous proportions, but this +contempt was the one emotional luxury which his egoism was still +capable of. + +He grasped a chair and seemed, for a moment about to mount to the lamp +to inspect her latest history. But he let his hand fall. After all, it +was indifferent with whom she was unfaithful to-day.... + +And he was tired. A bad day's work lay behind him. A three-year-old +full-blooded horse, recently imported from Hull, had proven itself +abnormally sensitive and had brought him to the verge of despair by +its fearfulness and its moods. He had exercised it for hours, and had +only succeeded in making the animal more nervous than before. Great +sums were at stake if the fault should prove constitutional and +not curable. + +He felt the impulse to share his worries with some one, but he knew of +no one. From the point of view of Miss Ludi's naïve selfishness, it +was simply his duty to be successful. She didn't care for the +troublesome details. At his club, again, each one was warily guarding +his own interests. Hence it was necessary there to speak carefully, +since an inadvertent expression might affect general opinion. + +He almost felt impelled to call in the maid and speak to her of his +worries. + +Then his own softness annoyed him. + +It was his wont to pass through life in lordly isolation and to +astonish the world by his successes. That was all he needed. + +Yawning he stretched himself out on the _chaise longue_. Time dragged. + +Three hours would pass until Ludi's probable return. He was so +accustomed to the woman's society that he almost longed for her. Her +idle chatter helped him. Her little tricks refreshed him. But the most +important point was this: she was no trouble. He could caress her or +beat her, call to her and drive her from him like a little dog. He +could let her feel the full measure of his contempt, and she would not +move a muscle. She was used to nothing else. + +He passed two or three hours daily in her company, for time had to be +killed somehow. Sometimes, too, he took her to the circus or the +theatre. He had long broken with the families of his acquaintance and +could appear in public with light women. + +And yet he felt a sharp revulsion at the atmosphere that surrounded +him. A strange discomfort invaded his soul in her presence. He didn't +feel degraded. He knew her to be a harlot. But that was what he +wanted. None but such an one would permit herself to be so treated. It +was rather a disguised discouragement that held him captive. + +Was life to pass thus unto the very end? Was life worth living, if it +offered a favourite of fortune, a master of his will and of his +actions, nothing better than this? + +"Surely I have the spleen," he said to himself, sprang up, and went +into the next room to change his clothes. He had a wardrobe in Ludi's +dressing room in order to be able to go out from here in the evening +unrestrainedly. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was near four o'clock. + +The sun laughed through the window. Its light was deep purple, +changing gradually to violet. Masses of leaves, red as rust, gleamed +over from the _Tiergarten_. The figure of Victory upon the triumphal +column towered toward heaven like a mighty flame. + +He felt an impulse to wander through the alleys of the park idly and +aimlessly, at most to give a coin to a begging child. + +He left the house and went past the Moltke monument and the winding +ways that lead to the Charlottenburg road. + +The ground exhaled the sweetish odour of decaying plants. Rustling +heaps of leaves, which the breezes of noon had swept together, flew +apart under his tread. The westering sun threw red splotches of light +on the faint green of the tree trunks that exuded their moisture in +long streaks. + +Here it was lonely. Only beyond the great road, whose many-coloured +pageant passed by him like a kinematograph, did he hear again in the +alleys the sounds of children's voices, song and laughter. + +In the neighbourhood of the _Rousseau Island_ he met a gentleman whom +he knew and who had been a friend of his youth. Stout of form, his +round face surrounded by a close-clipped beard, he wandered along, +leading two little girls in red, while a boy in a blue sailor suit +rode ahead, herald-like, on his father's walking-stick. + +The two men bowed to each other coolly, but without ill-will. They +were simply estranged. The busy servant of the state and father of a +family was scarcely to be found in those circles were the daily work +consists in riding and betting and gambling. + +Stueckrath sat down on a bench and gazed after the group. The little +red frocks gleamed through the bushes, and Papa's admonishing and +restraining voice was to be heard above the noise of the boy who made +a trumpet of his hollow hand. + +"Is that the way happiness looks?" he asked himself. "Can a man of +energy and action find satisfaction in these banal domesticities?" + +And strangely enough, these fathers of families, men who serve the +state and society, who occupy high offices, make important inventions +and write good books--these men have red cheeks and laughing eyes. +They do not look as though the burden which they carry squeezes the +breath of life out of them. They get ahead, in spite of the childish +hands that cling to their coats, in spite of the trivialities with +which they pass their hours of leisure. + +An indeterminate feeling of envy bored into his soul. He fought it +down and went on, right into the throng that filled the footpaths of +the _Tiergarten_. Groups of ladies from the west end went by him in +rustling gowns of black. He did not know them and did not wish to +know them. + +Here, too, he recognized fewer of the men. The financiers who have +made this quarter their own appear but rarely at the races. + +Accompanying carriages kept pace with the promenaders in order to +explain and excuse their unusual exertion. For in this world the +continued absence of one's carriage may well shake one's credit. + +The trumpeting motor-cars whirred by with gleaming brasses. Of the +beautiful women in them, little could be seen in the swift gleams. It +was the haste of a new age that does not even find time to display +its vanity. + +Upon the windows of the villas and palaces opposite lay the iridescent +glow of the evening sun. The façades took on purple colours, and the +decaying masses of vines that weighed heavily upon the fences seemed +to glow and shine from within with the very phosphorescence of decay. + +Flooded by this light, a slender, abnormally tall girl came into +Stueckrath's field of vision. She led by the arm an aged lady, who +hobbled with difficulty along the pebbly path. A closed carriage with +escutcheon and coronet followed the two slowly. + +He stopped short. An involuntary movement had passed through his body, +an impulse to turn off into one of the side paths. But he conquered +himself at once, and looked straight at the approaching ladies. + +Like a mere line of blackness, thin of limb and waist, attired with +nun-like austerity in garments that hung as if withering upon her, she +stood against the background of autumnal splendour. + +Now she recognised him, too. A sudden redness that at once gave way to +lifeless pallor flashed across her delicate, stern face. + +They looked straight into each other's eyes. + +He bowed deeply. She smiled with an effort at indifference. + +"And so she is faded, too," he thought. To be sure, her face still +bore the stamp of a simple and severe beauty, but time and grief had +dealt ungently with it. The lips were pale and anaemic, two or three +folds, sharp as if made with a knife, surrounded them. About the eyes, +whose soft and lambent light of other days had turned into a hard and +troubled sharpness, spread concentric rings, united by a net-work of +veins and wrinkles. + +He stood still, lost in thought, and looked after her. + +She still trod the earth like a queen, but her outline was detestable. + +Only hopelessness bears and attires itself thus. + +He calculated. She must be thirty-six. Thirteen years ago he had known +her and--loved her? Perhaps.... + +At least he had left her the evening before their formal betrothal was +to take place because her father had dared to remark upon his way +of life. + +He loved his personal liberty more than his beautiful and wealthy +betrothed who clung to him with every fibre of her delicate and noble +soul. One word from her, had it been but a word of farewell, would +have recalled him. That word remained unspoken. + +Thus her life's happiness had been wrecked. Perhaps his, too. What did +it matter? + +Since then he had nothing but contempt for the daughters of good +families. Other women were less exacting; they did not attempt to +circumscribe his freedom. + +He gazed after her long. Now groups of other pedestrians intervened; +now her form reappeared sharp and narrow against the trees. From time +to time she stooped lovingly toward the old lady, who, as is the wont +of aged people, trod eagerly and fearfully. + +This fragile heap of bones, with the dull eyes and the sharp voice--he +remembered the voice well: it had had part in his decision. This +strange, unsympathetic, suspicious old woman, he would have had to +call "Mother." + +What madness! What hypocrisy! + +And yet his hunger for happiness, which had not yet died, reminded him +of all that might have been. + +A sea of warm, tender and unselfish love would have flooded him and +fructified and vivified the desert of his soul. And instead of +becoming withered and embittered, she would have blossomed at his side +more richly from day to day. + +Now it was too late. A long, thin, wretched little creature--she went +her way and was soon lost in the distance. + +But there clung to his soul the yearning for a woman--one who had more +of womanliness than its name and its body, more than the harlot whom +he kept because he was too slothful to drive her from him. + +He sought the depths of his memory. His life had been rich in gallant +adventures. Many a full-blooded young woman had thrown herself at him, +and had again vanished from his life under the compulsion of his +growing coldness. + +He loved his liberty. Even an unlawful relation felt like a fetter so +soon as it demanded any sacrifice of time or interests. Also, he did +not like to give less than he received. For, since the passing of his +unscrupulous youth, he had not cared to receive the gift of a human +destiny only to throw it aside as his whim demanded. + +And therefore his life had grown quiet during the last few years. + +He thought of one of his last loves ... the very last ... and smiled. + +The image of a delicately plump brunette little woman, with dreamy +eyes and delicious little curls around her ears, rose up before him. +She dwelt in his memory as she had seemed to him: modest, soulful, all +ecstatic yielding and charming simple-heartedness. + +She did not belong to society. He had met her at a dinner given by a +financial magnate. She was the wife of an upper clerk who was well +respected in the business world. With adoring curiosity, she peeped +into the great strange world, whose doors opened to her for the +first time. + +He took her to the table, was vastly entertained by the lack of +sophistication with which she received all these new impressions, and +smilingly accepted the undisguised adoration with which she regarded +him in his character of a famous horseman and rake. + +He flirted with her a bit and that turned her head completely. In +lonely dreams her yearning for elegant and phantastic sin had grown to +enormity. She was now so wholly and irresistibly intoxicated that he +received next morning a deliciously scribbled note in which she begged +him for a secret meeting--somewhere in the neighbourhood of the +_Arkona Place_ or _Weinmeisterstrasse_, regions as unknown to him as +the North Cape or Yokohama. + +Two or three meetings followed. She appeared, modest, anxious and in +love, a bunch of violets for his button-hole in her hand, and some +surprise for her husband in her pocket. + +Then the affair began to bore him and he refused an appointment. + +One evening, during the last days of November, she appeared, thickly +veiled, in his dwelling, and sank sobbing upon his breast. She could +not live without seeing him; she was half crazed with longing; he was +to do with her what he would. He consoled her, warmed her, and kissed +the melting snow from her hair. But when in his joy at what he +considered the full possession of a jewel his tenderness went beyond +hers, her conscience smote her. She was an honest woman. Horror and +shame would drive her into her grave if she went hence an adulteress. +He must have pity on her and be content with her pure adoration. + +He had the requisite pity, dismissed her with a paternal kiss upon her +forehead, but at the same time ordered his servant to admit her +no more. + +Then came two or three letters. In her agony over the thought of +losing him, she was willing to break down the last reserve. But he did +not answer the letters. + +At the same time the thought came to him of going up the Nile in a +dahabiyeh. He was bored and had a cold. + +On the evening of his departure he found her waiting in his rooms. + +"What do you want?" + +"Take me along." + +"How do you know?" + +"Take me along." + +She said nothing else. + +The necessity of comforting her was clear. A thoroughgoing farewell +was celebrated, with the understanding that it was a farewell forever. + +The pact had been kept. After his return and for two years more she +had given no sign of life. He now thought of this woman. He felt a +poignant longing for the ripe sweetness of her oval face, the veiled +depth of her voice. He desired once more to be embraced by her firm +arms, to be kissed by her mad, hesitating lips. + +Why had he dropped her? How could he have abandoned her so rudely? + +The thought came into his head of looking her up now, in this very +hour. + +He had a dim recollection of the whereabouts of her dwelling. He could +soon ascertain its exact situation. + +Then again the problems of his racing stable came into his head. The +thought of "Maidenhood," the newly purchased horse, worried him. He +had staked much upon one throw. If he lost, it would take time to +repair the damage. + +Suddenly he found himself in a tobacconist's shop, looking for her +name in the directory. _Friedrich-Wilhelm Strasse_ was the address. +Quite near, as he had surmised. + +He was not at loss for an excuse. Her husband must still be in his +office at this hour. He would not be asked for any very strict +accounting for his action. At worst there was an approaching riding +festival, for which he could request her cooperation. + +Perhaps she had forgotten him and would revenge herself for her +humiliation. Perhaps she would be insulted and not even receive him. +At best he must count upon coldness, bitter truths and that appearance +of hatred which injured love assumes. + +What did it matter? She was a woman, after all. + +The vestibule of the house was supported by pillars; its walls were +ornately stuccoed; the floor was covered with imitation oriental rugs. +It was the rented luxury with which the better middle-class loves to +surround itself. + +He ascended three flights of stairs. + +An elderly servant in a blue apron regarded the stranger suspiciously. + +He asked for her mistress. + +She would see. Holding his card gingerly, she disappeared. + +Now _he_ would see.... + +Then, as he bent forward, listening, he heard through the open door a +cry--not of horrified surprise, but of triumph and jubilation, such a +cry of sudden joy as only a long and hopeless and unrestrainable +yearning can send forth. + +He thought he had heard wrong, but the smiling face of the returning +servant reassured him. + +He was to be made welcome. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +He entered. With outstretched hands, tears in her eyes, her face +a-quiver with a vain attempt at equanimity--thus she came forward +to meet him. + +"There you are ... there you are ... you...." + +Overwhelmed and put to shame by her forgiveness and her happiness, he +stood before her in silence. + +What could he have said to her that would not have sounded either +coarse or trivial? + +And she demanded neither explanation nor excuse. + +He was here--that was enough for her. + +As he let his glance rest upon her, he confessed that his mental image +of her fell short of the present reality. + +She had grown in soul and stature. Her features bore signs of power +and restraint, and of a strong inner tension. Her eyes sought him with +a steady light; in her bosom battled the pent-up joy. + +She asked him to be seated. "In that corner," she said, and led him to +a tiny sofa covered with glittering, light-green silk, above which +hung a withered palm-leaf fan. + +"I have sat there so often," she went on, "so often, and have thought +of you, always--always. You'll drink tea, won't you?" + +He was about to refuse, but she interrupted him. + +"Oh, but you must, you must. You can't refuse! It has been my dream +all this time to drink tea with you here just once--just once. To +serve you on this little table and hand you the basket with cakes! Do +you see this little lacquer table, with the lovely birds of inlaid +mother-of-pearl? I had that given to me last Christmas for the +especial purpose of serving you tea on it. For I said to myself: 'He +is accustomed to the highest elegance.' And you are here and are going +to refuse? No, no, that's impossible. I couldn't bear that." + +And she flew to the door and called out her orders to the servant. + +He regarded her in happy astonishment. In all her movements there was +a rhythm of unconscious loveliness, such as he had rarely seen in any +woman. With simple, unconscious elegance, her dress flowed about her +taller figure, whose severe lines were softened by the womanly curves +of her limbs. And all that belonged to him. + +He could command this radiant young body and this radiant young soul. +All that was one hunger to be possessed by him. + +"Bind her to yourself," cried his soul, "and build yourself a new +happiness!" + +Then she returned. She stopped a few paces from him, folded her hands +under her chin, gazed at him wide-eyed and whispered: "There he is! +There he is!" + +He grew uncomfortable under this expense of passion. + +"I should wager that I sit here with a foolish face," he thought. + +"But now I'm going to be sensible," she went on, sitting down on a low +stool that stood next to the sofa. "And while the tea is steeping you +must tell me how things have gone with you all this long time. For it +is a very long time since ... Ah, a long time...." + +It seemed to him that there was a reproach behind these words. He gave +but a dry answer to her question, but threw the more warmth into his +inquiries concerning her life. + +She laughed and waved her hand. + +"Oh, I!" she cried. "I have fared admirably. Why should I not? Life +makes me as happy as though I were a child. Oh, I can always be +happy.... That's characteristic of me. Nearly every day brings +something new and usually something delightful.... And since I've been +in love with you.... You mustn't take that for a banal declaration of +passion, dear friend.... Just imagine you are merely my confidant, and +that I'm telling you of my distant lover who takes little notice of a +foolish woman like myself. But then, that doesn't matter so long as I +know that he is alive and can fear and pray for him; so long as the +same morning sun shines on us both. Why, do you know, it's a most +delicious feeling, when the morning is fair and the sun golden and one +may stand at the window and say: 'Thank God, it is a beautiful day +for him.'" + +He passed his hand over his forehead. + +"It isn't possible," he thought. "Such things don't exist in this +world." + +And she went on, not thinking that perhaps he, too, would want to +speak. + +"I don't know whether many people have the good fortune to be as happy +as I. But I am, thank God. And do you know, the best part of it all +and the sunniest, I owe to you. For instance: Summer before last we +went to Heligoland, last summer to Schwarzburg.... Do you know it? +Isn't it beautiful? Well, for instance: I wake up; I open my eyes to +the dawn. I get up softly, so as not to disturb my husband, and go on +my bare feet to the window. Without, the wooded mountains lie dark and +peaceful. There is a peace over it all that draws one's tears ... it +is so beautiful ... and behind, on the horizon, there shines a broad +path of gold. And the fir-trees upon the highest peaks are sharply +defined against the gold, like little men with many outstretched arms. +And already the early piping of a few birds is heard. And I fold my +hands and think: I wonder where he is.... And if he is asleep, has he +fair dreams? Ah, if he were here and could see all this loveliness. +And I think of _him_ with such impassioned intensity that it is not +hard to believe him here and able to see it all. And at last a chill +comes up, for it is always cool in the mountains, as you know.... And +then one slips back into bed, and is annoyed to think that one must +sleep four hours more instead of being up and thinking of him. And +when one wakes up for a second time, the sun throws its golden light +into the windows, and the breakfast table is set on the balcony. And +one's husband has been up quite a while, but waits patiently. And his +dear, peaceful face is seen through the glass door. At such moments +one's heart expands in gratitude to God who has made life so beautiful +and one can hardly bear one's own happiness--and--there is the tea." + +The elderly maid came in with a salver, which she placed on the piano, +in order to set the little table properly. A beautiful napkin of +damask silk lay ready. The lady of the house scolded jestingly. It +would injure the polish of the piano, and what was her guest to think +of such shiftlessness. + +The maid went out. + +She took up the tea-kettle, and asked in a voice full of bliss. + +"Strong or weak, dear master?" + +"Strong, please." + +"One or two lumps of sugar?" + +"Two lumps, please." + +She passed him the cup with a certain solemnity. + +"So this is the great moment, the pinnacle of all happiness as I have +dreamed of it! Now, tell me yourself: Am I not to be envied? Whatever +I wish is fulfilled. And, do you know, last year in Heligoland I had a +curious experience. We capsised by the dunes and I fell into the +water. As I lost consciousness, I thought that you were there and were +saving me. Later when I lay on the beach, I saw, of course, that it +had been only a stupid old fisherman. But the feeling was so wonderful +while it lasted that I almost felt like jumping into the water again. +Speaking of water, do you take rum in your tea?" + +He shook his head. Her chatter, which at first had enraptured him, +began to fill him with sadness. He did not know how to respond. His +youthfulness and flexibility of mind had passed from him long ago: he +had long lost any inner cheerfulness. + +And while she continued to chat, his thoughts wandered, like a horse, +on their accustomed path on the road of his daily worries. He thought +of an unsatisfactory jockey, of the nervous horse. + +What was this woman to him, after all? + +"By the way," he heard her say, "I wanted to ask you whether +'Maidenhood' has arrived?" + +He sat up sharply and stared at her. Surely he had heard wrong. + +"What do you know about 'Maidenhood'?" + +"But, my dear friend, do you suppose I haven't heard of your beautiful +horse, by 'Blue Devil' out of 'Nina'? Now, do you see? I believe I +know the grandparents, too. Anyhow, you are to be congratulated on +your purchase. The English trackmen are bursting with envy. To judge +by that, you ought to have an immense success." + +"But, for heaven's sake, how do you know all this?" + +"Dear me, didn't your purchase appear in all the sporting papers?" + +"Do you read those papers?" + +"Surely. You see, here is the last number of the _Spur_, and yonder is +the bound copy of the _German Sporting News_." + +"I see; but to what purpose?" + +"Oh, I'm a sporting lady, dear master. I look upon the world of +horses--is that the right expression?--with benevolent interest. I +hope that isn't forbidden?" + +"But you never told me a word about that before!" + +She blushed a little and cast her eyes down. + +"Oh, before, before.... That interest didn't come until later." + +He understood and dared not understand. + +"Don't look at me so," she besought him; there's nothing very +remarkable about it. I just said to myself: "Well, if he doesn't want +you, at least you can share his life from afar. That isn't immodest, +is it? And then the race meets were the only occasions on which I +could see you from afar. And whenever you yourself rode--oh, how my +heart beat--fit to burst. And when you won, oh, how proud I was! I +could have cried out my secret for all the world to hear. And my poor +husband's arm was always black and blue. I pinched him first in my +anxiety and then in my joy." + +"So your husband happily shares your enthusiasm?" + +"Oh, at first he wasn't very willing. But then, he is so good, so +good. And as I couldn't go to the races alone, why he just had to go +with me! And in the end he has become as great an enthusiast as I am. +We can sit together for hours and discuss the tips. And he just +admires you so--almost more than I. Oh, how happy he'd be to meet you +here. You mustn't refuse him that pleasure. And now you're laughing at +me. Shame on you!" + +"I give you my word that nothing--" + +"Oh, but you smiled. I saw you smile." + +"Perhaps. But assuredly with no evil intention. And now you'll permit +me to ask a serious question, won't you?" + +"But surely!" + +"Do you love your husband?" + +"Why, of course I love him. You don't know him, or you wouldn't ask. +How could I help it? We're like two children together. And I don't +mean anything silly. We're like that in hours of grief, too. Sometimes +when I look at him in his sleep--the kind, careworn forehead, the +silent serious mouth--and when I think how faithfully and carefully he +guides me, how his one dreaming and waking thought is for my +happiness--why, then I kneel down and kiss his hands till he wakes up. +Once he thought it was our little dog, and murmured 'Shoo, shoo!' Oh, +how we laughed! And if you imagine that such a state of affairs can't +be reconciled with my feeling for you, why, then you're quite wrong. +_That_ is upon an entirely different plane." + +"And your life is happy?" + +"Perfectly, perfectly." + +Radiantly she folded her hands. + +She did not suspect her position on the fearful edge of an abyss. She +had not yet realised what his coming meant, nor how defenceless +she was. + +He had but to stretch out his arms and she would fly to him, ready to +sacrifice her fate to his mood. And this time there would be no +returning to that well-ordered content. + +A dull feeling of responsibility arose in him and paralysed his will. +Here was all that he needed in order to conquer a few years of new +freshness and joy for the arid desert of his life. Here was the spring +of life for which he was athirst. And he had not the courage to touch +it with his lips. + + + + +Chapter IV. + + +A silence ensued in which their mood threatened to darken and grow +turbid. + +Then he pulled himself together. + +"You don't ask me why I came, dear friend." + +She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. + +"A moment's impulse--or loneliness. That's all." + +"And a bit of remorse, don't you think so?" + +"Remorse? For what? You have nothing with which to reproach yourself. +Was not our agreement made to be kept?" + +"And yet I couldn't wholly avoid the feeling as if my unbroken silence +must have left a sting in your soul which would embitter your +memory of me." + +Thoughtfully she stirred her tea. + +"No," she said at last, "I'm not so foolish. The memory of you is a +sacred one. If that were not so, how could I have gone on living? That +time, to be sure, I wanted to take my life. I had determined on that +before I came to you. For that one can leave the man with whom.... I +never thought that possible.... But one learns a good deal--a good +deal.... And now I'll tell you how it came to pass that I didn't take +my life that night. When everything was over, and I stood in the +street before your house, I said to myself: 'Now the river is all that +is left.' In spite of rain and storm, I took an open cab and drove out +to the _Tiergarten_. Wasn't the weather horrible! At the _Great Star_ +I left the cab and ran about in the muddy ways, weeping, weeping. I +was blind with tears, and lost my way. I said to myself that I would +die at six. There were still four minutes left. I asked a policeman +the way to _Bellevue_, for I did remember that the river flows hard +behind the castle. The policeman said: 'There it is. The hour is +striking in the tower now.' And when I heard the clock strike, the +thought came to me: 'Now my husband is coming home, tired and hungry, +and I'm not there. If at least he wouldn't let his dinner get cold. +But of course he will wait. He'd rather starve than eat without me. +And he'll be frightened more and more as the hours pass. Then he'll +run to the police. And next morning he'll be summoned by telegram to +the morgue. There he'll break down helplessly and hopelessly and I +won't be able to console him.' And when I saw that scene in my mind, I +called out: 'Cab! cab!' But there was no cab. So I ran back to the +_Great Star_, and jumped into the street-car, and rode home and rushed +into his arms and cried my fill." + + +"And had your husband no questions to ask? Did he entertain no +suspicion?" + +"Oh, no, he knows me, I am taken that way sometimes. If anything moves +or delights me deeply--a lovely child on the street--you see, I +haven't any--or some glorious music, or sometimes only the park in +spring and some white statue in the midst of the greenery. Oh, +sometimes I seem to feel my very soul melt, and then he lays his cool, +firm hand on my forehead and I am healed." + +"And were you healed on that occasion, too?" + +"Yes. I was calmed at once. 'Here,' I said to myself, 'is this dear, +good man, to whom you can be kind. And as far as the other is +concerned, why it was mere mad egoism to hope to have a share in his +life. For to give love means, after all, to demand love. And what can +a poor, supersensitive thing like you mean to him? He has others. He +need but stretch forth his hand, and the hearts of countesses and +princesses are his!'" + +"Dear God," he thought, and saw the image of the purchasable harlot, +who was supposed to satisfy his heart's needs. + +But she chatted on, and bit by bit built up for him the image of him +which she had cherished during these two years. All the heroes of +Byron, Poushkine, Spielhagen and Scott melted into one glittering +figure. There was no splendour of earth with which her generous +imagination had not dowered him. + +He listened with a melancholy smile, and thought: "Thank God, she +doesn't know me. If I didn't take a bit of pleasure in my stable, the +contrast would be too terrible to contemplate." + +And there was nothing forward, nothing immodest, in this joyous +enthusiasm. It was, in fact, as if he were a mere confidant, and she +were singing a hymn in praise of her beloved. + +And thus she spared him any feeling of shame. + +But what was to happen now? + +It went without saying that this visit must have consequences of some +sort. It was her right to demand that he do not, for a second time, +take her up and then fling her aside at the convenience of a +given hour. + +Almost timidly he asked after her thoughts of the future. + +"Let's not speak of it. You won't come back, anyhow." + +"How can you think...." + +"Oh, no, you won't come back. And what is there here for you? Do you +want to be adored by me? You spoiled gentlemen soon tire of that sort +of thing.... Or would you like to converse with my husband? That +wouldn't amuse you. He's a very silent man and his reserve thaws only +when he is alone with me.... But it doesn't matter.... You have been +here. And the memory of this hour will always be dear and precious to +me. Now, I have something more in which my soul can take pleasure." + +A muffled pain stirred in him. He felt impelled to throw himself at +her feet and bury his head in her lap. But he respected the majesty of +her happiness. + +"And if I myself desired...." + +That was all he said; all he dared to say. The sudden glory in her +face commanded his silence. Under the prudence which his long +experience dictated, his mood grew calmer. + +But she had understood him. + +In silent blessedness, she leaned her head against the wall. Then she +whispered, with closed eyes: "It is well that you said no more. I +might grow bold and revive hopes that are dead. But if you...." + +She raised her eyes to his. A complete surrender to his will lay in +her glance. + +Then she raised her head with a listening gesture. + +"My husband," she said, after she had fought down a slight involuntary +fright, and said it with sincere joy. + +Three glowing fingers barely touched his. Then she hastened to the +door. + +"Guess who is here," she called out; "guess!" + +On the threshold appeared a sturdy man of middle size and middle age. +His round, blonde beard came to a grayish point beneath the chin. His +thin cheeks were yellow, but with no unhealthful hue. His quiet, +friendly eyes gleamed behind glasses that sat a trifle too far down +his nose, so that in speaking his head was slightly thrown back and +his lids drawn. + +With quiet astonishment he regarded the elegant stranger. Coming +nearer, however, he recognised him at once in spite of the twilight, +and, a little confused with pleasure, stretched out his hand. + +Upon his tired, peaceful features, there was no sign of any sense of +strangeness, any desire for an explanation. + +Stueckrath realized that toward so simple a nature craft would have +been out of place, and simply declared that he had desired to renew an +acquaintance which he had always remembered with much pleasure. + +"I don't want to speak of myself, Baron," the man replied, "but you +probably scarcely realise what pleasure you are giving my wife." And +he nodded down at her who stood beside him, apparently unconcerned +except for her wifely joy. + +A few friendly words were exchanged. Further speech was really +superfluous, since the man's unassailable innocence demanded no +caution. But Stueckrath was too much pleased with him to let him feel +his insignificance by an immediate departure. + +Hence he sat a little longer, told of his latest purchases, and was +shamed by the satisfaction with which the man rehearsed the history of +his stable. + +He did not neglect the courtesy of asking them both to call on him, +and took his leave, accompanied by the couple to the door. He could +not decide which of the two pressed his hand more warmly. + +When in the darkness of the lower hall he looked upward, he saw two +faces which gazed after him with genuine feeling. + + * * * * * + +Out amid the common noises of the street he had the feeling as though +he had returned from some far island of alien seas into the wonted +current of life. + +He shuddered at the thought of what lay before him. + +Then he went toward the _Tiergarten_. A red afterglow eddied amid the +trees. In the sky gleamed a harmony of delicate blue tints, shading +into green. Great white clouds towered above, but rested upon the +redness of the sunset. + +The human stream flooded as always between the flickering, starry +street-lamps of the _Tiergartenstrasse_. Each man and woman sought to +wrest a last hour of radiance from the dying day. + +Dreaming, estranged, Stueckrath made his way through the crowd, and +hurriedly sought a lonely footpath that disappeared in the darkness of +the foliage. + +Again for a moment the thought seared him: "Take her and rebuild the +structure of your life." + +But when he sought to hold the thought and the accompanying emotion, +it was gone. Nothing remained but a flat after taste--the dregs of a +weary intoxication. + +The withered leaves rustled beneath his tread. Beside the path +glimmered the leaf-flecked surface of a pool. + +"It would be a crime, to be sure," he said to himself, "to shatter the +peace of those two poor souls. But, after all, life is made up of such +crimes. The life of one is the other's death; one's happiness the +other's wretchedness. If only I could be sure that some happiness +would result, that the sacrifice of their idyl would bring +some profit." + +But he had too often had the discouraging and disappointing experience +that he had become incapable of any strong and enduring emotion. What +had he to offer that woman, who, in a mixture of passion, and naïve +unmorality of soul, had thrown herself at his breast? The shallow +dregs of a draught, a power to love that had been wasted in sensual +trifling--emptiness, weariness, a longing for sensation and a longing +for repose. That was all the gift he could bring her. + +And how soon would he be satiated! + +Any sign of remorse or of fear in her would suffice to make her a +burden, even a hated burden! + +"Be her good angel," he said to himself, "and let her be." He whistled +and the sound was echoed by the trees. + +He sought a bench on which to sit down, and lit a cigarette. As the +match flared up, he became conscious of the fact that night +had fallen. + +A great quietude rested upon the dying forest. Like the strains of a +beautifully perishing harmony the sound of the world's distant strife +floated into this solitude. + +Attentively Stueckrath observed the little point of glowing fire in +his hand, from which eddied upward a wreath of fragrant smoke. + +"Thank God," he said, "that at least remains--one's cigarette." + +Then he arose and wandered thoughtfully onward. + +Without knowing how he had come there, he found himself suddenly in +front of his mistress's dwelling. + +Light shimmered in her windows--the raspberry coloured light of red +curtains which loose women delight in. + +"Pah!" he said and shuddered. + +But, after all, up there a supper table was set for him; there was +laughter and society, warmth and a pair of slippers. + +He opened the gate. + +A chill wind rattled in the twigs of the trees and blew the dead +leaves about in conical whirls. They fluttered along like wandering +shadows, only to end in some puddle ... + +Autumn ... + + + + + +MERRY FOLK + + +The Christmas tree bent heavily forward. The side which was turned to +the wall had been hard to reach, and had hence not been adorned richly +enough to keep the equilibrium of the tree against the weighty twigs +of the front. + +Papa noted this and scolded. "What would Mamma say if she saw that? +You know, Brigitta, that Mamma doesn't love carelessness. If the tree +falls over, think how ashamed we shall be." + +Brigitta flushed fiery red. She clambered up the ladder once more, +stretched her arms forth as far as possible, and hung on the other +side of the tree all that she could gather. There _had_ been very +little there. But then one couldn't see.... + +And now the lights could be lit. + +"Now we will look through the presents," said Papa. "Which is Mamma's +plate?" + +Brigitta showed it to him. + +This time he was satisfied. "It's a good thing that you've put so much +marchpane on it," he said. "You know she always loves to have +something to give away." Then lie inspected the polished safety lock +that lay next to the plate and caressed the hard leaves of the potted +palm that shadowed Mamma's place at the Christmas table. + +"You have painted the flower vase for her?" he asked. + +Brigitta nodded. + +"It is exclusively for roses," she said, "and the colours are burned +in and will stand any kind of weather." + +"What the boys have made for Mamma they can bring her themselves. Have +you put down the presents from her?" + +Surely she had done so. For Fritz, there was a fishing-net and a +ten-bladed knife; for Arthur a turning lathe with foot-power, and in +addition a tall toy ship with a golden-haired nymph as figurehead. + +"The mermaid will make an impression," said Papa and laughed. + +There was something else which Brigitta had on her conscience. She +stuck her firm little hands under her apron, which fell straight down +over her flat little chest, and tripped up and down on her heels. + +"I may as well betray the secret," she said. "Mamma has something for +you, too." Papa was all ear. "What is it?" he asked, and looked over +his place at the table, where nothing was noticeable in addition to +Brigitta's fancy work. + +Brigitta ran to the piano and pulled forth from under it a paper +wrapped box, about two feet in height, which seemed singularly light +for its size. + +When the paper wrappings had fallen aside, a wooden cage appeared, in +which sat a stuffed bird that glittered with all the colours of the +rainbow. His plumage looked as though the blue of the sky and the gold +of the sun had been caught in it. + +"A roller!" Papa cried, clapping his hands, and something like joy +twitched about his mouth. "And she gives me this rare specimen?" + +"Yes," said Brigitta, "it was found last autumn in the throstle +springe. The manager kept it for me until now. And because it is so +beautiful, and, one might really say, a kind of bird of paradise, +therefore Mamma gives it to you." + +Papa stroked her blonde hair and again her face flushed. + +"So; and now we'll call the boys," he said. + +"First let me put away my apron," she cried, loosened the pin and +threw the ugly black thing under the piano where the cage had been +before. Now she stood there in her white communion dress, with its +blue ribands, and made a charming little grimace. + +"You have done quite right," said Papa. "Mamma does not like dark +colours. Everything about her is to be bright and gay." + +Now the boys were permitted to come in. + +They held their beautifully written Christmas poems carefully in their +hands and rubbed their sides timidly against the door-posts. + +"Come, be cheerful," said Papa. "Do you think your heads will be torn +off to-day?" + +And then he took them both into his arms and squeezed them a little so +that Arthur's poetry was crushed right down the middle. + +That was a misfortune, to be sure. But Papa consoled the boy, saying +that he would be responsible since it was his fault. + +Brueggemann, the long, lean private tutor, now stuck his head in the +door, too. He had on his most solemn long coat, nodded sadly like one +bidden to a funeral, and sniffed through his nose: + +"Yes--yes--yes--yes--" + +"What are you sighing over so pitiably, you old weeping-willow?" Papa +said, laughing. "There are only merry folk here. Isn't it so, +Brigitta?" + +"Of course that is so," the girl said. "And here, Doctor, is your +Christmas plate." She led him to his place where a little purse of +calf's leather peeped modestly out from, under the cakes. + +"This is your present from Mamma," she continued, handing him a long, +dark-covered book. "It is 'The Three Ways to Peace,' which you always +admired so much." + +The learned gentleman hid a tear of emotion but squinted again at the +little pocket-book. This represented the fourth way to peace, for he +had old beer debts. + +The servants were now ushered in, too. First came Mrs. Poensgen, the +housekeeper, who carried in her crooked, scarred hands a little +flower-pot with Alpine violets. + +"This is for Mamma," she said to Brigitta, who took the pot from her +and led her to her own place. There were many good things, among them +a brown knitted sweater, such as she had long desired, for in the +kitchen an east wind was wont to blow through the cracks. + +Mrs. Poensgen saw the sweater as rapidly as Brueggemann had seen the +purse. And when Brigitta said: "That is, of course, from Mamma," the +old woman was not in the least surprised. For in her fifteen years of +service she had discovered that the best things always came +from Mamma. + +The two boys, in the meantime, were anxious to ease their consciences +and recite their poems. They stood around Papa. + +He was busy with the inspectors of the estate, and did not notice them +for a moment. Then he became aware of his oversight and took the +sheets from their hands, laughing and regretting his neglect. Fritz +assumed the proper attitude, and Papa did the same, but when the +latter saw the heading of the poem: "To his dear parents at +Christmastide," he changed his mind and said: "Let's leave that till +later when we are with Mamma." + +And so the boys could go on to their places. And as their joy +expressed itself at first in a happy silence, Papa stepped up behind +them and shook them and said: "Will you be merry, you little scamps? +What is Mamma to think if you're not!" + +That broke the spell which had held them heretofore. Fritz set his +net, and when Arthur discovered a pinnace on his man-of-war, the +feeling of immeasurable wealth broke out in jubilation. + +But this is the way of the heart. Scarcely had they discovered their +own wealth but they turned in desire to that which was not for them. + +Arthur had discovered the shiny patent lock that lay between Mamma's +plate and his own. It seemed uncertain whether it was for him or her. +He felt pretty well assured that it was not for him; on the other +hand, he couldn't imagine what use she could put it to. Furthermore, +he was interested in it, since it was made upon a certain model. It is +not for nothing that one is an engineer with all one's heart and mind. + +Now, Fritz tried to give an expert opinion, too. He considered it a +combination Chubb lock. Of course that was utter nonsense. But then +Fritz would sometimes talk at random. + +However that may be, this lock was undoubtedly the finest thing of +all. And when one turned the key in it, it gave forth a soft, slow, +echoing tone, as though a harp-playing spirit sat in its steel body. + +But Papa came and put an end to their delight. + +"What are you thinking of, you rascals?" he said in jesting reproach. +"Instead of giving poor Mamma something for Christmas, you want to +take the little that she has." + +At that they were mightily ashamed. And Arthur said that of course +they had something for Mamma, only they had left it in the hall, so +that they could take it at once when they went to her. + +"Get it in," said Papa, "in order that her place may not look so +meager." They ran out and came back with their presents. + +Fritz had carved a flower-pot holder. It consisted of six parts, which +dove-tailed delicately into each other. But that was nothing compared +to Arthur's ventilation window, which was woven of horse hair. + +Papa was delighted. "Now we needn't be ashamed to be seen," he said. +Then, too, he explained to them the mechanism of the lock, and told +them that its purpose was to guard dear Mamma's flowers better. For +recently some of her favourite roses had been stolen and the only way +to account for it was that some one had a pass key. + +"So, and now we'll go to her at last," he concluded. "We have kept her +waiting long. And we will be happy with her, for happiness is the +great thing, as Mamma says.... Get us the key, Brigitta, to the gate +and the chapel." + +And Brigitta got the key to the gate and the chapel. + + + + + +THEA + +_A Phantasy over the Samovar_ + + + + +Chapter I. + + +She is a faery and yet she is none.... But she is my faery surely. + +She has appeared to me only in a few moments of life when I least +expected her. + +And when I desired to hold her, she vanished. + +Yet has she often dwelt near me. I felt her in the breath of winter +winds sweeping over sunny fields of snow; I breathed her presence in +the morning frost that clung, glittering, to my beard; I saw the +shadow of her gigantic form glide over the smoky darkness of heaven +which hung with the quietude of hopelessness over the dull white +fields; I heard the whispering of her voice in the depths of the +shining tea urn surrounded by a dancing wreath of spirit flames. + +But I must tell the story of those few times when she stood bodily +before me--changed of form and yet the same--my fate, my future as it +should have been and was not, my fear and my trust, my good and my +evil star. + + + + +Chapter II. + + +It was many, many years ago on a late evening near Epiphany. + +Without whirled the snow. The flakes came fluttering to the windows +like endless swarms of moths. Silently they touched the panes and then +glided straight down to earth as though they had broken their wings in +the impact. + +The lamp, old and bad for the eyes, stood on the table with its +polished brass foot and its raveled green cloth shade. The oil in the +tank gurgled dutifully. Black fragments gathered on the wick, which +looked like a stake over which a few last flames keep watch. + +Yonder in the shabby upholstered chair my mother had fallen into a +doze. Her knitting had dropped from her hands and lay on the +flower-patterned apron. The wool-thread cut a deep furrow in the skin +of her rough forefinger. One of the needles swung behind her ear. + +The samovar with its bellied body and its shining chimney stood on a +side table. From time to time a small, pale-blue cloud of steam +whirled upward, and a gentle odour of burning charcoal tickled +my nostrils. + +Before me on the table lay open Sallust's "Catilinarian Conspiracy!" +But what did I care for Sallust? Yonder on the book shelf, laughing +and alluring in its gorgeous cover stood the first novel that I ever +read--"The Adventures of Baron Muenchausen!" + +Ten pages more to construe. Then I was free. I buried my hands deep +into my breeches pockets, for I was cold. Only ten pages more. + +Yearningly I stared at my friend. + +And behold, the bookbinder's crude ornamentation--ungraceful +arabesques of vine leaves which wreathe about broken columns, a rising +sun caught in a spider's web of rays--all that configuration begins to +spread and distend until it fills the room. The vine leaves tremble in +a morning wind; a soft blowing shakes the columns, and higher and +higher mounts the sun. Like a dance of flickering torches his rays +shoot to and fro, his glistening arms are outstretched as though they +would grasp the world and pull it to the burning bosom of the sun. And +a great roaring arises in the air, muffled and deep as distant organ +strains. It rises to the blare of trumpets, it quivers with the clash +of cymbals. + +Then the body of the sun bursts open. A bluish, phosphorescent flame +hisses forth. Upon this flame stands erect in fluttering _chiton_ a +woman, fair and golden haired, swan's wings at her shoulders, a harp +held in her hand. + +She sees me and her face is full of laughter. Her laughter sounds +simple, childlike, arch. And surely, it is a child's mouth from which +it issues. The innocent blue eyes look at me in mad challenge. The +firm cheeks glow with the delight of life. Heavens! What is this +child's head doing on that body? She throws the harp upon the clouds, +sits down on the strings, scratches her little nose swiftly with her +left wing and calls out to me: "Come, slide with me!" + +I stare at her open-mouthed. Then I gather all my courage and stammer: +"Who are you?" + +"My name is Thea," she giggles. + +"But _who_ are you?" I ask again. + +"Who? Nonsense. Come, pull me! But no; you can't fly. I'll pull you. +That will go quicker." + +And she arises. Heavens! What a form! Magnificently the hips curve +over the fallen girdle; in how noble a line are throat and bosom +married. No sculptor can achieve the like. + +With her slender fingers she grasps the blue, embroidered riband that +is attached to the neck of the harp. She grasps it with the gesture of +one who is about to pull a sleigh. + +"Come," she cries again. I dare not understand her. Awkwardly I crouch +on the strings. + +"I might break them," I venture. + +"You little shaver," she laughs. "Do you know how light you are? And +now, hold fast!" + +I have scarcely time to grasp the golden frame with both hands. I hear +a mighty rustling in front of me. The mighty wings unfold. My sleigh +floats and billows in the air. Forward and upward goes the +roaring flight. + +Far, far beneath me lies the paternal hut. Scarcely does its light +penetrate to my height. Gusts of snow whirl about my forehead. Next +moment the light is wholly lost. Dawn breaks through the night. A warm +wind meets us and blows upon the strings so that they tremble gently +and lament like a sleeping child whose soul is troubled by a dream of +loneliness. + +"Look down!" cried my faery, turning her laughing little head toward +me. + +Bathed in the glow of spring I see an endless carpet of woods and +hills, fields and lakes spread out below me. The landscape gleams with +a greenish silveriness. My glance can scarcely endure the richness of +the miracle. + +"But it has become spring," I say trembling. + +"Would you like to go down?" she asks. + +"Yes, yes." + +At once we glide downward. "Guess what that is!" she says. + +An old, half-ruined castle rears its granite walls before me.... A +thousand year old ivy wreathes about its gables.... Black and white +swallows dart about the roofs.... All about arises a thicket of +hawthorn in full bloom.... Wild roses emerge from the darkness, +innocently agleam like children's eyes. A sleepy tree bends its boughs +above them. + +There is life at the edge of the ancient terrace where broad-leaved +clover grows in the broken urns. A girlish form, slender and lithe, +swinging a great, old-fashioned straw hat, having a shawl wound +crosswise over throat and waist, has stepped forth from the decaying +old gate. She carries a little white bundle under her arm, and looks +tentatively to the right and to the left as one who is about to go on +a journey. + +"Look at her," says my friend. + +The scales fall from my eyes. + +"That is Lisbeth," I cried out in delight, "who is going to the +mayor's farm." + +Scarcely have I mentioned that farm but a fragrance of roasting meat +rises up to me. Clouds of smoke roll toward me, dim flames quiver up +from it. There is a sound of roasting and frying and the seething fat +spurts high. No wonder; there's going to be a wedding. "Would you +like to see the executioner's sword?" my friend asks. + +A mysterious shudder runs down my limbs. + +"I'd like to well enough," I say fearfully. + +A rustle, a soft metallic rattle--and we are in a small, bare +chamber.... Now it is night again and the moonlight dances on the +rough board walls. + +"Look there," whispers my friend and points to a plump old chest. + +Her laughing face has grown severe and solemn. Her body seems to have +grown. Noble and lordly as a judge she stands before me. + +I stretch my neck; I peer at the chest. + +There it lies, gleaming and silent, the old sword. A beam of moonlight +glides along the old blade, drawing a long, straight line. But what do +those dark spots mean which have eaten hollows into the metal? + +"That is blood," says my friend and crosses her arms upon her breast. + +I shiver but my eyes seem to have grown fast to the terrible image. + +"Come," says Thea. + +"I can't." + +"Do you want it?" + +"What? The sword?" + +She nods. "But may you give it away? Does it belong to you?" + +"I may do anything. Everything belongs to me." + +A horror grips me with its iron fist. "Give it to me!" I cry +shuddering. + +The iron lightening gleams up and it lies cold and moist in my arms. +It seems to me as though the blood upon it began to flow afresh. + +My arms feel dead, the sword falls from them and sinks upon the +strings. These begin to moan and sing. Their sounds are almost like +cries of pain. + +"Take care," cries my friend. "The sword may rend the strings; it is +heavier than you." + +We fly out into the moonlit night. But our flight is slower than +before. My friend breathes hard and the harp swings to and fro like a +paper kite in danger of fluttering to earth. + +But I pay no attention to all that. Something very amusing captures my +senses. + +Something has become alive in the moon which floats, a golden disc, +amid the clouds. Something black and cleft twitches to and fro on her +nether side. I look more sharply and discover a pair of old +riding-boots in which stick two long, lean legs. The leather on the +inner side of the boots is old and worn and glimmers with a dull +discoloured light. "Since when does the moon march on legs through +the world?" I ask myself and begin to laugh. And suddenly I see +something black on the upper side of the moon--something that wags +funnily up and down. I strain my eyes and recognise my old friend +Muenchausen's phantastic beard and moustache. He has grasped the edges +of the moon's disc with his long lean fingers and laughs, laughs. + +"I want to go there," I call to my friend. + +She turns around. Her childlike face has now become grave and madonna +like. She seems to have aged by years. Her words echo in my ear like +the sounds of broken chimes. + +"He who carries the sword cannot mount to the moon." + +My boyish stubbornness revolts. "But I want to get to my friend +Muenchausen." + +"He who carries the sword has no friend." + +I jump up and tug at the guiding riband. The harp capsises.... I fall +into emptiness ... the sword above me ... it penetrates my body ... I +fall ... I fall.... + +"Yes, yes," says my mother, "why do you call so fearfully? I am +awake." + +Calmly she took the knitting-needle from behind her ear, stuck it into +the wool and wrapped the unfinished stocking about it. + + + + +Chapter III. + + +Six years passed. Then Thea met me again. She had been gracious enough +to leave her home in the island valley of Avilion, to play the +soubrette parts in the theatre of the university town in which I was +fencing and drinking for the improvement of my mind. + +Upon her little red shoes she tripped across the stage. She let her +abbreviated skirts wave in the boldest curves. She wore black silk +stockings which flowed about her delicate ankles in ravishing lines +and disappeared all too soon, just above the knee, under the hem of +her skirt. She plaited herself two thick braids of hair the blue +ribands of which she loved to chew when the modesty that belonged to +her part overwhelmed her. She sucked her thumb, she stuck out her +tongue, she squeaked and shrieked and turned up her little nose. And, +oh, how she laughed. It was that sweet, sophisticated, vicious +soubrette laughter which begins with the musical scale and ends in +a long coo. + +Show me the man among us whom she cannot madden into love with all the +traditional tricks of her trade. Show me the student who did not keep +glowing odes deep-buried in his lecture notes--deep-buried as the +gigantic grief of some heroic soul.... + +And one afternoon she appeared at the skating rink. She wore a +gleaming plush jacket trimmed with sealskin, and a fur cap which sat +jauntily over her left ear. The hoar frost clung like diamond dust to +the reddish hair that framed her cheeks, and her pink little nose +sniffed up the cold air. + +After she had made a scene with the attendant who helped her on with +her shoes, during which such expressions as "idiot," had escaped her +sweet lips, she began to skate. A child, just learning to walk, could +have done better. + +We foolish boys stood about and stared at her. + +The desire to help her waxed in us to the intensity of madness. But +when pouting she stretched out her helpless arms at us, we recoiled as +before an evil spirit. Not one of us found the courage simply to +accept the superhuman bliss for which he had been hungering by day and +night for months. + +Then suddenly--at an awful curve--she caught her foot, stumbled, +wavered first forward and then backward and finally fell into the arms +of the most diffident and impassioned of us all. + +And that was I. + +Yes, that was I. To this day my fists are clenched with rage at the +thought that it might have been another. + +Among those who remained behind as I led her away in triumph there was +not one who could not have slain me with a calm smile. + +Under the impact of the words which she wasted upon my unworthy self, +I cast down my eyes, smiling and blushing. Then I taught her how to +set her feet and showed off my boldest manoeuvres. I also told her +that I was a student in my second semester and that it was my ambition +to be a poet. + +"Isn't that sweet?" she exclaimed. "I suppose you write poetry +already?" + +I certainly did. I even had a play in hand which treated of the fate +of the troubadour Bernard de Ventadours in rhymeless, irregular verse. + +"Is there a part for me in it?" she asked. + +"No," I answered, "but it doesn't matter. I'll put one in." + +"Oh, how sweet that is of you!" she cried. "And do you know? You must +read me the play. I can help you with my practical knowledge of +the stage." + +A wave of bliss under which I almost suffocated, poured itself out +over me. + +"I have also written poems--to you!" I stammered. The wave carried me +away. "Think of that," she said quite kindly instead of boxing my +ears. "You must send them to me." + +"Surely."... + +And then I escorted her to the door while my friends followed us at a +seemly distance like a pack of wolves. + +The first half of the night I passed ogling beneath her window; the +second half at my table, for I wanted to enrich the packet to be sent +her by some further lyric pearls. At the peep of dawn I pushed the +envelope, tight as a drum with its contents, into the pillar box and +went to cool my burning head on the ramparts. + +On that very afternoon came a violet-tinted little letter which had an +exceedingly heady fragrance and bore instead of a seal a golden lyre +transfixed by a torch. It contained the following lines: + +"DEAR POET: + +"Your verses aren't half bad; only too fiery. I'm really in a hurry to +hear your play. My old chaperone is going out this evening. I will be +at home alone and will, therefore, be bored. So come to tea at seven. +But you must give me your word of honour that you do not give away +this secret. Otherwise I won't care for you the least bit. + +"Your THEA." Thus did she write, I swear it--she, my faery, my Muse, +my Egeria, she to whom I desired to look up in adoration to the last +drawing of my breath. + +Swiftly I revised and corrected and recited several scenes of my play. +I struck out half a dozen superfluous characters and added a +dozen others. + +At half past six I set out on my way. A thick, icy fog lay in the air. +Each person that I met was covered by a cloud of icy breath. + +I stopped in front of a florist's shop. + +All the treasures of May lay exposed there on little terraces of black +velvet. There were whole beds of violets and bushes of snow-drops. +There was a great bunch of long-stemmed roses, carelessly held +together by a riband of violet silk. + +I sighed deeply. I knew why I sighed. + +And then I counted my available capital: Eight marks and seventy +pfennigs. Seven beer checks I have in addition. But these, alas, are +good only at my inn--for fifteen pfennigs worth of beer a piece. + +At last I take courage and step into the shop. + +"What is the price of that bunch of roses?" I whisper. I dare not +speak aloud, partly by reason of the great secret and partly through +diffidence. "Ten marks," says the fat old saleswoman. She lets the +palm leaves that lie on her lap slip easily into an earthen vessel and +proceeds to the window to fetch the roses. + +I am pale with fright. My first thought is: Run to the inn and try to +exchange your checks for cash. You can't borrow anything two days +before the first of the month. + +Suddenly I hear the booming of the tower clock. + +"Can't I get it a little cheaper?" I ask half-throttled. + +"Well, did you ever?" she says, obviously hurt. "There are ten roses +in the bunch; they cost a mark a piece at this time. We throw in +the riband." + +I am disconsolate and am about to leave the shop. But the old +saleswoman who knows her customers and has perceived the tale of love +lurking under my whispering and my hesitation, feels a human sympathy. + +"You might have a few roses taken out," she says. "How much would you +care to expend, young man?" + +"Eight marks and seventy pfennigs," I am about to answer in my folly. +Fortunately it occurs to me that I must keep out a tip for her maid. +The ladies of the theatre always have maids. And I might leave late. +"Seven marks," I answer therefore. + +With quiet dignity the woman extracts _four_ roses from my bunch and I +am too humble and intimidated to protest. + +But my bunch is still rich and full and I am consoled to think that a +wooing prince cannot do better. + +Five minutes past seven I stand before her door. + +Need I say that my breath gives out, that I dare not knock, that the +flowers nearly fall from my nerveless hand? All that is a matter of +course to anyone who has ever, in his youth, had dealings with faeries +of Thea's stamp. + +It is a problem to me to this day how I finally did get into her room. +But already I see her hastening toward me with laughter and burying +her face in the roses. + +"O you spendthrift!" she cries and tears the flowers from my hand in +order to pirouette with them before the mirror. And then she assumes a +solemn expression and takes me by a coat button, draws me nearer and +says: "So, and now you may kiss me as a reward." + +I hear and cannot grasp my bliss. My heart seems to struggle out at my +throat, but hard before me bloom her lips. I am brave and kiss her. +"Oh," she says, "your beard is full of snow." + +"My beard! Hear it, ye gods! Seriously and with dignity she speaks of +my beard." + +A turbid sense of being a kind of Don Juan or Lovelace arises in me. +My self-consciousness assumes heroic dimensions, and I begin to regard +what is to come with a kind of daemonic humour. + +The mist that has hitherto blurred my vision departs. I am able to +look about me and to recognise the place where I am. + +To be sure, that is a new and unsuspected world--from the rosy silken +gauze over the toilet mirror that hangs from the beaks of two floating +doves, to the row of exquisite little laced boots that stands in the +opposite corner. From the candy boxes of satin, gold, glass, saffron, +ivory, porcelain and olive wood which adorn the dresser to the edges +of white billowy skirts which hang in the next room but have been +caught in the door--I see nothing but miracles, miracles. + +A maddening fragrance assaults my senses, the same which her note +exhaled. But now that fragrance streams from her delicate, graceful +form in its princess gown of pale yellow with red bows. She dances and +flutters about the room with so mysterious and elf-like a grace as +though she were playing Puck in the "Midsummer Night's Dream," the +part in which she first enthralled my heart. + +Ah, yes, she meant to get tea. + +"Well, why do you stand there so helplessly, you horrid creature? +Come! Here is a tablecloth, here are knives and forks. I'll light the +spirit lamp in the meantime." + +And she slips by me not without having administered a playful tap to +my cheek and vanishes in the dark room of mystery. + +I am about to follow her, but out of the darkness I hear a laughing +voice: "Will you stay where you are, Mr. Curiosity?" + +And so I stand still on the threshold and lay my head against those +billowy skirts. They are fresh and cool and ease my burning forehead. + +Immediately thereafter I see the light of a match flare up in the +darkness, which for a moment sharply illuminates the folds of her +dress and is then extinguished. Only a feeble, bluish flame remains. +This flame plays about a polished little urn and illuminates dimly the +secrets of the forbidden sanctuary. I see bright billowy garments, +bunches of flowers and wreaths of leaves, with long, silken, +shimmering bands--and suddenly the Same flares high.... + +"Now I've spilt the alcohol," I hear the voice of my friend. But her +laughter is full of sarcastic arrogance. "Ah, that'll be a play of +fire!" Higher and higher mount the flames. + +"Come, jump into it!" she cries out to me, and instead of quenching +the flame she pours forth more alcohol into the furious conflagration. + +"For heaven's sake!" I cry out. + +"Do you know now who I am?" she giggles. "I'm a witch!" + +With jubilant screams she loosens her hair of reddish gold which now +falls about her with a flaming glory. She shows me her white sharp +teeth and with a sudden swift movement she springs into the flame +which hisses to the very ceiling and clothes the chamber in a garb +of fire. + +I try to call for help, but my throat is tied, my breath stops. I am +throttled by smoke and flames. + +Once more I hear her elfin laughter, but now it comes to me from +subterranean depths. The earth has opened; new flames arise and +stretch forth fiery arms toward me. + +A voice cries from the fires: "Come! Come!" And the voice is like the +sound of bells. Then suddenly the night enfolds me. + + * * * * * + +The witchery has fled. Badly torn and scarred I find myself again on +the street. Next to me on the ground lies my play. "Did you not mean +to read that to some one?" I ask myself. + +A warm and gentle air caresses my fevered face. A blossoming lilac +bush inclines its boughs above me and from afar, there where the dawn +is about to appear, I hear the clear trilling of larks. + +I dream no longer.... But the spring has come.... + + + + +Chapter IV + + +And again the years pass by. + +It was on an evening during the carnival season and the world, that +is, the world that begins with the baron and ends with the +stockjobber, floated upon waves of pleasure as bubbles of fat float on +the surface of soup. + +Whoever did not wallow in the mire was sarcastically said not to be +able to sustain himself on his legs. + +There were those among my friends who had not gone to bed till morning +for thirty days. Some of them slept only to the strains of a +world-famous virtuoso; others only in the cabs that took them from +dinner to supper. + +Whenever three of them met, one complained of shattered nerves, the +second of catarrh of the stomach, the third of both. + +That was the pace of our amusement. + +Of mine, too. + +It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. I sat in a _café_, that +famous _café_ which unacknowleged geniuses affirm to be the very +centre of all intellectual life. No spot on earth is said to have so +fruitful an effect upon one's genius. Yet, strangely enough, however +eager for inspiration I might lounge about its red upholstery, however +ardently aglow for inspiration I might drink expensive champagnes +there, yet the supreme, immense, all-liberating thought did not come. + +Nor would that thought come to me to-day. Less than ever, in fact. Red +circles danced before my eyes and in my veins hammered the throbs of +fever. It wasn't surprising. For I, too, could scarcely remember to +have slept recently. It is an effort to raise my lids. The hand that +would stroke the hair with the gesture of genius--alas, how thin the +hair is getting--sinks down in nerveless weakness. + +But I may not go home. Mrs. Elsbeth--we bachelors call her so when her +husband is not by--Mrs. Elsbeth has ordered me to be here.... She +intended to drop in at midnight on her return from dinner with her +husband. The purpose of her coming is to discuss with me the surprises +which I am to think up for her magic festival. + +She is exacting enough, the sweet little woman, but the world has it +that I love her. And in order to let the world be in the right a man +is not averse to making a fool of herself. + +The stream of humanity eddies about me. Like endless chains rotating +in different directions, thus seem the two lines of those who enter +and those who depart. There are dandies in coquettish furs, their silk +hats low on their foreheads, their canes held vertically in their +pockets. There are fashionable ladies in white silk opera cloaks set +with ermine, their eyes peering from behind Spanish veils in proud +curiosity. And all are illuminated by the spirit of festivity. + +Also one sees shop-girls, dragged here by some chance admirer. They +wear brownish cloaks, ornamented with knots--the kind that looks worn +the day it is taken from the shop. And there are ladies of that +species whom one calls "ladies" only between quotation marks. These +wear gigantic picture hats trimmed with rhinestones. The hems of their +dresses are torn and flecked with last season's mud. There are +students who desire to be intoxicated through the lust of the eye; +artists who desire to regain a lost sobriety of vision; journalists +who find stuff for leader copy in the blue despatches that are posted +here; Bohemians and loungers of every station, typical of every degree +of sham dignity and equally sham depravity. They all intermingle in +manicoloured waves. It is the mad masque of the metropolis.... + +A friend comes up to me, one of the three hundred bosom friends with +whom I am wont to swap shady stories. He is pallid with +sleeplessness, deep horizontal lines furrow his forehead, his brows +are convulsively drawn. So we all look.... + +"Look here," he says, "you weren't at the Meyers' yesterday." + +"I was invited elsewhere." + +"Where?" + +I've got to think a minute before I can remember the name. We all +suffer from weakness in the head. + +"Aha," he cries. "I'm told it was swell. Magnificent women ... and +that fellow ... er ... thought reader and what's her name ... yes ... +the Sembrich ... swell ... you must introduce me there some day...." + +Stretching his legs he sinks down at my side on the sofa. + +Silence. My bosom friend and I have exhausted the common stock of +interests. + +He has lit a cigarette and is busy catching the white clouds which he +blows from his nose with his mouth. This employment seems to satisfy +his intellect wholly. + +I, for my part, stare at the ceiling. There the golden bodies of +snakes wind themselves in mad arabesques through chains of roses. The +pretentious luxury offends my eye. I look farther, past the +candelabrum of crystal which reflects sharp rainbow tints over all, +past the painted columns whose shafts end in lily leaves as some +torturing spear does in flesh. + +My glance stops yonder on the wall where a series of fresco pictures +has been painted. + +The forms of an age that was drunk with beauty look down on me in +their victorious calm. They are steeped in the glow of a southern +heaven. The rigid splendour of the marble walls is contrasted with the +magnificent flow of long garments. + +It is a Roman supper. Rose-crowned men lean upon Indian cushions, +holding golden beakers in their right hands. Women in yielding +nakedness cower at their feet. Through the open door streams in a +Bacchic procession with fauns and panthers, the drunken Pan in its +midst. Brown-skinned slaves with leopard skins about their loins make +mad music. Among them is one who at once makes me forget the tumult. +She leans her firm, naked body surreptitiously against the pillar. Her +form is contracted with weariness. Thoughtlessly and with tired lips +she blows the _tibia_ which her nerveless hands threaten to drop. Her +cheeks are yellow and fallen in, her eyes are glassy, but upon her +forehead are seen the folds of lordship and about her mouth wreaths a +stony smile of irony. Who is she? Whence does she come? I ask myself. +But I feel a dull thud against my shoulder. My bosom friend has fallen +asleep and is using me as a pillow. + +"Look here, you!" I call out to him, for I have for the moment +forgotten his name. "Go home and go to bed." + +He starts up and gazes at me with swimming eyes. + +"Do you mean me?" he stutters. "That's a good joke." And next moment +he begins to snore. + +I hide him as well as possible with my broad back and bend down over +the glittering samovar before me. The fragrant steam prickles my nose. + +It is time that the little woman turn up if I am to amuse her guests. + +I think of the brown-skinned woman yonder in the painting. + +I open my eyes. Merciful heaven! What is that? + +For the woman stands erect now in all the firm magnificence of her +young limbs, presses her clenched fists against her forehead and +stares down at me with glowing eyes. + +And suddenly she hurls the flutes from her in a long curve and cries +with piercing voice: "No more ... I will play no more!" It is the +voice of a slave at the moment of liberation. + +"For heaven's sake, woman!" I cry. "What are you doing? You will be +slain; you will be thrown to the wild beasts!" + +She points about her with a gesture that is full of disgust and +contempt. + +Then I see what she means. All that company has fallen asleep. The men +lie back with open mouths, the goblets still in their hands. Golden +cascades of wine fall glittering upon the marble. The women writhe in +these pools of wine. But even in the intoxication of their dreams they +try to guard their elaborate hair dress. The whole mad band, musicians +and animals, lies there with limbs dissolved, panting for air, +overwhelmed by heavy sleep. + +"The way is free!" cries the flute player jubilantly and buries her +twitching fingers into the flesh of her breasts. "What is there to +hinder my flight?" + +"Whither do you flee, mad woman?" I ask. + +A gleam of dreamy ecstasy glides over her grief-worn face which seems +to flush and grow softer of outline. + +"Home--to freedom," she whispers down to me and her eyes burn. + +"Where is your home?" + +"In the desert," she cries. "Here I play for their dances; there I am +queen. My name is Thea and it is resonant through storms. They chained +me with golden chains; they lured me with golden speeches until I left +my people and followed them to their prison that is corroded with +lust.... Ah, if you knew with my knowledge, you would not sit here +either.... But the slave of the moment knows not liberty." + +"I have known it," I say drearily and let my chin sink upon the table. + +"And you are here?" + +Contemptuously she turns her back to me. + +"Take me with you, Thea," I cry, "take me with you to freedom." + +"Can you still endure it." + +"I will endure the glory of freedom or die of it." + +"Then come." + +A brown arm that seems endless stretches down to me. An iron grasp +lifts me upward. Noise and lights dislimn in the distance. + +Our way lies through great, empty, pillared halls which curve above us +like twilit cathedrals. Great stairs follow which fall into black +depths like waterfalls of stone. Thence issues a mist, green with +silvery edges.... + +A dizziness seizes me as I strive to look downward. + +I have a presentiment of something formless, limitless. A vague awe +and terror fill me. I tremble and draw back but an alien hand +constrains me. + +We wander along a moonlit street. To the right and left extend pallid +plains from which dark cypress trees arise, straight as candles. + +It is all wide and desolate like those halls. + +In the far distance arise sounds like half smothered cries of the +dying, but they grow to music. + +Shrill jubilation echoes between the sounds and it too grows to music. + +But this music is none other than the roaring of the storm which +lashes us on when we dare to faint. + +And we wander, wander ... days, weeks, months. Who knows how long? + +Night and day are alike. We do not rest; nor speak. + +The road is far behind us. We wander upon trackless wastes. + +Stonier grows the way, an eternal up and down over cliffs and through +chasms.... The edges of the weathered stones become steps for our +feet. Breathlessly we climb the peaks. Beyond them we clatter into +new abysms. + +My feet bleed. My limbs jerk numbly like those of a jumping-jack. An +earthy taste is on my lips. I have long lost all sense of progress. +One cliff is like another in its jagged nakedness; one abysm dark and +empty as another. Perhaps I wander in a circle. Perhaps this brown +hand is leading me wildly astray, this hand whose grasp has penetrated +my flesh, and has grown into it like the fetter of a slave. + +Suddenly I am alone. + +I do not know how it came to pass. + +I drag myself to a peak and look about me. + +There spreads in the crimson glow of dawn the endless, limitless rocky +desert--an ocean turned to stone. + +Jagged walls tower in eternal monotony into the immeasurable distance +which is hid from me by no merciful mist. Out of invisible abysms +arise sharp peaks. A storm from the south lashes their flanks from +which the cracked stone fragments roll to become the foundations of +new walls. + +The sun, hard and sharp as a merciless eye, arises slowly in this +parched sky and spreads its cloak of fire over this dead world. + +The stone upon which I sit begins to glow. + +The storm drives splinters of stone into my flesh. A fiery stream of +dust mounts toward me. Madness descends upon me like a fiery canopy. + +Shall I wander on? Shall I die? + +I wander on, for I am too weary to die. At last, far off, on a ledge +of rock, I see the figure of a man. + +Like a black spot it interrupts this sea of light in which the very +shadows have become a crimson glow. + +An unspeakable yearning after this man fills my soul. For his steps +are secure. His feet are scarcely lifted, yet quietly does he fare +down the chasms and up the heights. I want to rush to meet him but a +great numbness holds me back. + +He comes nearer and nearer. + +I see a pallid, bearded countenance with high cheek-bones, and +emaciated cheeks.... The mouth, delicate and gentle as a girl's, is +drawn in a quiet smile. A bitterness that has grown into love, into +renunciation, even into joy, shines in this smile. + +And at the sight of it I feel warm and free. + +And then I see his eye which is round and sharp as though open through +the watches of many nights. With moveless clearness of vision he +measures the distances, and is careless of the way which his foot +finds without groping. In this look lies a dreaming glow which turns +to waking coldness. + +A tremour of reverence seizes my body. + +And now I know who this man is who fares through the desert in +solitary thought, and to whom horror has shown the way to peace. He +looks past me! How could it be different? + +I dare not call to him. Movelessly I stare after him until his form +has vanished in the guise of a black speck behind the burning cliffs. + +Then I wander farther ... and farther ... and farther.... + + * * * * * + +It was on a grayish yellow day of autumn that I sat again after an +interval on the upholstery of the famous _café_, I looked gratefully +up at the brown slave-girl in the picture who blew upon her flutes as +sleepily and dully as ever. I had come to see her. + +I start for I feel a tap on my shoulder. + +In brick-red gloves, his silk-hat over his forehead, a little more +tired and world-worn than ever, that bosom friend whose name I have +now definitely forgotten stood before me. + +"Where the devil have you been all this time?" he asks. + +"Somewhere," I answer laughing. "In the desert." ... + +"Gee! What were you looking for there?" + +"_Myself_."... + + + + +Chapter V. + + +And ever swifter grows the beat of time's wing. My breath can no +longer keep the same pace. + +Thoughtless enjoyment of life has long yielded to a life and death +struggle. + +And I am conquered. + +Wretchedness and want have robbed me of my grasping courage and of my +laughing defiance. The body is sick and the soul droops its wings. + + * * * * * + +Midnight approaches. The smoky lamp burns more dimly and outside on +the streets life begins to die out. Only from time to time the snow +crunches and groans under the hurrying foot of some belated and +freezing passer-by. The reflection of the gas lamps rests upon the +frozen windows as though a yellow veil had been drawn before them. + +In the room hovers a dull heat which weighs upon my brain and even +amid shivering wrings the sweat from my pores. + +I had the fire started again toward night for I was cold. Now I am no +longer cold. + +"Take care of yourself," my friend the doctor said to me, "you have +worked yourself to pieces and must rest." + +"Rest, rest"--the word sounds like a gnome's irony from all the +corners of my room, for my work is heaping up on all sides and +threatens to smother me. + +"Work! Work!" This is the voice of conscience. It is like the voice of +a brutal waggoner that would urge a dead ass on to new efforts. + +My paper is in its place. For hours I have sat and stared at it +brooding. It is still empty. + +A disagreeably sweetish odour which arises impudently to my nose makes +me start. + +There stands the pitcher of herb tea which my landlady brought in at +bedtime. + +The dear woman. + +"Man must sweat," she had declared. "If the whole man gets into a +sweat then the evil humours are exuded, and the healthy sap gets a +chance to circulate until one is full of it." + +And saying that she wiped her greasy lips for she likes to eat a piece +of rye bread with goose grease before going to bed. + +Irritatedly I push the little pitcher aside, but its grayish green +steam whirls only the more pertinaciously about me. The clouds assume +strange forms, which tower over each other and whirl into each other +like the phantoms over a witch's cauldron. + +And at last the fumes combine into a human form, at first misty and +without outlines but gradually becoming more sharply defined. + +Gray, gray, gray. An aged woman. So she seems, for she creeps along by +the help of a crutch. But over her face is a veil which falls to the +ground over her arms like the folded wings of a bat. + +I begin to laugh, for spirits have long ceased to inspire me with +reverence. + +"Is your name by any chance Thea, O lovely, being?" I ask. + +"My name is Thea," she answers and her voice is weary, gentle and a +little hoarse. A caressing shimmer as of faintly blue velvet, an +insinuating fragrance as of dying mignonette--both lie in this voice. +The voice fills my heart. But I won't be taken in, least of all by +some trite ghost which is in the end only a vision of one's own +sick brain. + +"It seems that the years have not changed you for the better, charming +Thea," I say and point sarcastically to the crutch. + +"My wings are broken and I am withered like yourself." + +I laugh aloud. "So that is the meaning of this honoured apparition! A +mirror of myself--spirit of ruin--symbolic poem on the course of my +ideas. Pshaw! I know that trick. Every brainless Christmas poet knows +it, too. You must come with a more powerful charm, O Thea, spirit of +the herb tea! Good-bye. My time is too precious to be wasted by +allegories." + +"What have you to do that is so important?" she asks, and I seem to +see the gleam of her eyes behind the folds of the veil, whether in +laughter or in grief I cannot tell. + +"If I have nothing more to do, I must die," I answer and feel with joy +how my defiance steels itself in these words. + +"And that seems important to you?" + +"Moderately so." + +"Important to whom?" + +"To myself, I should think, if to no one else." + +"And your creditor--the world?" + +That was the last straw. "The world, oh, yes, the world. And what, +pray, do I owe it?" + +"Love." + +"Love? To that harlot? Because it sucked the fire from my veins and +poured poison therein instead? Behold me here--wrecked, broken, a +plaything of any wave. That is what the world has made of me!" + +"That is what you have made of yourself! ... The world came to you +as a smiling guide.... With gentle finger it touched your shoulder and +desired you to follow. But you were stubborn. You went your own way in +dark and lonely caverns where the laughing music of the fight that +sounds from above becomes a discordant thunder. You were meant to be +wise and merry; you became dull and morose." + +"Very well; if that is what I became, at least the grave will release +me from my condition." + +"Test yourself thoroughly." + +"What is the use of that now? Life has crippled me.... What of joy it +has to offer becomes torture to me.... I am cut loose from all the +kindly bonds that bind man to man.... I cannot bear hatred, neither +can I bear love.... I tremble at a thousand dangers that have never +threatened and will never threaten me. A very straw has become a cliff +to me against which I founder and against which my weary limbs are +dashed in pieces.... And this is the worst of all. My vision sees +clearly that it is but a straw before which my strength writhes in the +dust.... You have come at the right time, Thea. Perhaps you carry in +the folds of your robe some little potion that will help me to hurry +across the verge." + +Again I see a gleam behind the veil--a smiling salutation from some +far land where the sun is still shining. And my heart seems about to +burst under that gleam. But I control myself and continue to gaze at +her with bitter defiance. + +"It needs no potion," she says and raises her right hand. I have never +seen such a hand.... It seem to be without bones, formed of the petals +of flowers. The hand might seem deformed, dried and yet swollen as +with disease, were it not so delicate, so radiant, so lily-like. An +unspeakable yearning for this poor, sick hand overcomes me. I want to +fall on my knees before it and press my lips to it in adoration. But +already the hand lays itself softly upon my hair. Gentle and cool as a +flake of snow it rests there. But from moment to moment it waxes +heavier until the weight of mountains seems to lie upon my head. I can +bear the pressure no longer. I sink ... I sink ... the earth opens.... +Darkness is all about me.... + +Recovering consciousness, I find myself lying in a bed surrounded by +impenetrable night. + +"One of my stupid dreams," I say to myself and grope for the matches +on my bed side table to see the time.... But my hand strikes hard +against a board that rises diagonally at my shoulder. I grope farther +and discover that my couch is surrounded by a cloak of wood. And that +cloak is so narrow, so narrow that I can scarcely raise my head a +few inches without knocking against it. + +"Perhaps I am buried," I say to myself. "Then indeed my wish would +have fulfilled itself promptly." + +A fresh softly prickling scent of flowers, as of heather and roses, +floats to me. + +"Aha," I say to myself, "the odour of the funeral flowers. My +favourites have been chosen. That was kind of people." And, as I turn +my head the cups of flowers nestle soft and cool against my cheek. + +"You are buried amid roses," I say to myself, "as you always desired." +And then I touch my breast to discover what gift has been placed upon +my heart. My fingers touch hard, jagged leaves. + +"What is that?" I ask myself in surprise. And then I laugh shrilly. It +is a wreath of laurel leaves which has been pressed with its rough, +woodlike leaves between my body and the coffin lid. + +"Now you have everything that you so ardently desired, you fool of +fame," I cry out and a mighty irony takes hold of me. + +And then I stretch out my legs until my feet reach the end of the +coffin, nestle my head amid the flowers, and make ready to enjoy my +great peace with all my might. I am not in the least frightened or +confounded, for I know that air to breathe will never again be +lacking now for I need it no longer. I am dead, properly and honestly +dead. Nothing remains now but to flow peacefully and gently into the +realm of the unconscious, and to let the dim dream of the All surge +over me to eternity. + +"Good-night, my dear former fellow-creatures," I say and turn +contemptuously on my other side. "You can all go to the dickens for +all I care." + +And then I determine to lie still as a mouse and discover whether I +cannot find some food for the malice that yet is in me, by listening +to man's doings upon the wretched earth above me. + +At first I hear nothing but a dull roaring. But that may proceed as +well from the subterranean waters that rush through the earth +somewhere in my neighbourhood. But no, the sound comes from above. And +from time to time I also hear a rattling and hissing as of dried peas +poured out over a sieve. + +"Of course, it's wretched weather again," I say and rub my hands +comfortably, not, to be sure, without knocking my elbows against the +side of the coffin. + +"They could have made this place a little roomier," I say to myself. +But when it occurs to me that, in my character of an honest corpse, I +have no business to move at all if I want to be a credit to my +new station. + +But the spirit of contradiction in me at once rebels against this +imputation. + +"There are no classes in the grave and no prejudices," I cry. "In the +grave we are all alike, high and low, poor and rich. The rags of the +beggar, my masters, have here just the same value as the purple cloak +that falls from the shoulders of a king. Here even the laurel loses +its significance as the crown of fame and is given to many a one." + +I cease, for my fingers have discovered a riband that hangs from the +wreath. Upon it, I am justified in assuming, there is written some +flattering legend. The letters are just raised enough to be +indistinctly felt. + +I am about to call for matches, but remember just in time that it is +forbidden to strike a light in the grave or rather, that it is +contrary to the very conception of the grave to be illuminated. + +This thought annoys me and I continue: "The laurel is given here not +to the distinguished alone. I must correct that expression. Are not we +corpses distinguished _per se_ as compared to the miserable plebeian +living? Is not this noble rest in which we dwell an unmistakable sign +of true aristocracy? And the laurel that is given to the dead, that +laurel, my masters, fills me with as high a pride as would the diadem +of a king." + +I ceased. For I could rightly expect enthusiastic applause at the +close of this effective passage. But as everything remained silent I +turned my thoughts once more upon myself, and considered, too, that my +finest speeches would find no public here. + +"It is, besides, in utter contradiction to the conception of death to +deliver speeches," I said to myself, but at once I began another in +order to establish an opposition against myself. + +"Conception? What is a conception? What do I care for conceptions +here? I am dead. I have earned the sacred right to disregard such +things. If those two-penny living creatures cannot imagine the grave +otherwise than dark or the dead otherwise than dumb--why, I surely +have no need to care for that." + +In the meantime my fingers had scratched about on the riband in the +vain hope of inferring from the gilt and raised letters on the silk +their form and perhaps the significance of the legend. My efforts +were, however, without success. Hence I continued outraged: "In order +to speak first of the conception of the grave as dark, I should like +to ask any intelligent and expert corpse: 'Why is the grave +necessarily dark?' Should not we who are dead rather demand of an age +that has made such enormous progress in illumination, which has not +only invented gas and electric lighting and complied with the +regulations for the illumination of streets, but has at a slight cost +succeeded in giving to every corner of the world the very light of +day--may we not demand of such an age that it put an end to the +old-fashioned darkness of the grave? It would seem as if the most +elementary piety would constrain the living to this improvement. But +when did the living ever feel any piety? We must enforce from them the +necessaries of a worthy existence in death. Gentlemen, I close with +the last, or, I had better say, the first words of our great Goethe +whose genius with characteristic power of divination foresaw the +unworthy condition of the inner grave and the necessities of a truly +noble and liberal minded corpse. For what else could be the meaning of +that saying which I herewith inscribe upon our banner: 'Light, more +light!' That must henceforth be our device and our battlecry." + +This time, too, silence was my only answer. Whence I inferred that in +the grave there is neither striving nor crying out. Nevertheless I +continued to amuse myself and made many a speech against the +management of the cemetery, against the insufficiency of the method of +flat pressure upon the dead now in use, and similar outrages. In the +meantime the storm above had raged and the rain lashed its fill and a +peaceful silence descended upon all things. + +Only from time to time did I hear a short, dull uniform thunder, which +I could not account for until it occurred to me that it was produced +by the footsteps of passers-by, the noise of which was thus echoed and +multiplied in the earth. + +And then suddenly I heard the sound of human voices. + +The sound came vertically down to my head. + +People seemed to be standing at my grave. + +"Much I care about you," I said, and was about to continue to reflect +on my epoch-making invention which is to be called: _Helminothanatos_,' +that is to say, 'Death by Worms' and which, so soon as it is completed +is to be registered in the patent office as number 156,763. But my +desire to know what was thought of me after my death left me no rest. +Hence I did not hesitate long to press my ear to the inner roof of the +coffin in order that the sound might better reach me thus. + +Now I recognised the voices at once. + +They belonged to two men to whom I had always been united by bonds of +the tenderest sympathy and whom I was proud to call my friends. They +had always assured me of the high value which they set upon me and +that their blame--with which they had often driven me to secret +despair--proceeded wholly from helpful and unselfish love. + +"Poor devil," one of them said, in a tone of such humiliating +compassion that I was ashamed of myself in the very grave. + +"He had to bite the dust pretty early," the other sighed. "But it was +better so both for him and for myself. I could not have held him above +water much longer." ... + +From sheer astonishment I knocked my head so hard against the side of +the coffin that a bump remained. + +"When did you ever hold me above water?" I wanted to cry out but I +considered that they could not hear me. + +Then the first one spoke again. + +"I often found it hard enough to aid him with my counsel without +wounding his vanity. For we know how vain he was and how taken +with himself." + +"And yet he achieved little enough," the other answered. "He ran after +women and sought the society of inferior persons for the sake of their +flattery. It always astonished me anew when he managed to produce +something of approximately solid worth. For neither his character nor +his intelligence gave promise of it." + +"In your wonderful charity you are capable of finding something +excellent even in his work," the other replied. "But let us be frank: +The only thing he sometimes succeeded in doing was to flatter the +crude instincts of the mob. True earnestness or conviction he never +possessed." + +"I never claimed either for him," the first eagerly broke in. "Only I +didn't want to deny the poor fellow that bit of piety which is +demanded. _De mortuis_----" + +And both voices withdraw into the distance. + +"O you grave-robbers!" I cried and shook my fist after them. "Now I +know what your friendship was worth. Now it is clear to me how you +humiliated me upon all my ways, and how when I came to you in hours of +depression you administered a kick in order that you might increase in +stature at my expense! Oh, if I could only."... + +I ceased laughing. + +"What silly wishes, old boy!" I admonished myself. "Even if you could +master your friends; your enemies would drive you into the grave a +thousand times over." + +And I determined to devote my whole thought henceforth to the +epoch-making invention of my impregnating fluid called +"_Helminothanatos"_ or "Death by Worms." + +But new voices roused me from my meditation. + +I listened. + +"That's where what's his name is buried," said one. + +"Quite right," said the other. "I gave him many a good hit while he +was among us--more than I care to think about to-day. But he was an +able fellow. His worst enemy couldn't deny that." + +I started and shuddered. + +I knew well who he was: my bitterest opponent who tortured me so long +with open lashes and hidden stabs that I almost ended by thinking I +deserved nothing else. + +And he had a good word to say for me--_he?_ + +His voice went on. "To-day that he is out of our way we may as well +confess that we always liked him a great deal. He took life and work +seriously and never used an indecent weapon against us. And if the +tactics of war had not forced us to represent his excellences as +faults, we might have learned a good deal from him." + +"It's a great pity," said the other. "If, before everything was at +sixes and sevens, he could have been persuaded to adopt our views, we +could perhaps have had the pleasure of receiving him into our +fighting lines." + +"With open arms," was the answer. And then in solemn tone: + +"Peace be to his ashes." + +The other echoed: "Peace ..." + +And then they went on.... + +I hid my face in my hands. My breast seemed to expand and gently, very +gently something began to beat in it which had rested in silent +numbness since I lay down here. + +"So that is the nature of the world's judgment," I said to myself. "I +should have known that before. With head proudly erect I would have +gone my way, uninfluenced by the glitter of false affection as by the +blindness of wildly aiming hatred. I would have shaken praise and +blame from me with the same joyous laugh and sought the norm of +achievement in myself alone. Oh, if only I could live once more! If +only there were a way out of these accursed six boards!" + +In impotent rage I pounded the coffin top with my fist and only +succeeded in running a splinter into my finger. + +And then there came over me once more, even though it came +hesitatingly and against my will, a delightful consciousness of that +eternal peace into which I had entered. + +"Would it be worth the trouble after all," I said to myself, "to +return to the fray once more, even if I were a thousand times certain +of victory? What is this victory worth? Even if I succeed in being the +first to mount some height untrod hitherto by any human foot, yet the +next generation will climb on my shoulders and hurl me down into the +abysm of oblivion. There I could lie, lonely and helpless, until the +six boards are needed again to help me to my happiness. And so let me +be content and wait until that thing in my breast which has began to +beat so impudently, has become quiet once more." + +I stretched myself out, folded my hands, and determined to hold no +more incendiary speeches and thus counteract the trade of the worms, +but rather to doze quietly into the All. + +Thus I lay again for a space. + +Then arose somewhere a strange musical sound, which penetrated my +dreamy state but partially at first before it awakened me wholly from +my slumber. + +What was that? A signal of the last day? + +"It's all the same to me," I said and stretched myself. "Whether it's +heaven or hell--it will be a new experience." + +But the sound that had awakened me had nothing in common with the +metallic blare of trumpets which religious guides have taught us +to expect. + +Gentle and insinuating, now like the tones of flutes played by +children, now like the sobbing of a girl's voice, now like the +caressing sweetness with which a mother speaks to her little child--so +infinitely manifold but always full of sweet and yearning magic--alien +and yet dear and familiar--such was the music that came to my ear. + +"Where have I heard that before?" I asked myself, listening. + +And as I thought and thought, an evening of spring arose before my +soul--an evening out of a far and perished time.... I had wandered +along the bank of a steaming river. The sunset which shone through the +jagged young leaves spread a purple carpet over the quiet waters upon +which only a swift insect would here and there create circular eddies. +At every step I took the dew sprang up before me in gleaming pearls, +and a fragrance of wild thyme and roses floated through the air.... + +There it must have been that I heard this music for the first time. + +And now it was all clear: The nightingale was singing ... the +nightingale. + +And so spring has come to the upper world. + +Perhaps it is an evening of May even as that which my spirit recalls. + +Blue flowers stand upon the meadows.... Goldenrod and lilac mix their +blossoms into gold and violet wreaths.... Like torn veils the +delicate flakings of the buttercups fly through the twilight.... + +Surely from the village sounds the stork's rattle ... and surely the +distant strains of an accordion are heard.... + +But the nightingale up there cares little what other music may be +made. It sobs and jubilates louder and louder, as if it knew that in +the poor dead man's bosom down here the heart beats once more stormily +against his side. + +And at every throb of that heart a hot stream glides through my veins. +It penetrates farther and farther until it will have filled my whole +body. It seems to me as though I must cry out with yearning and +remorse. But my dull stubbornness arises once more: "You have what you +desired. So lie here and be still, even though you should be condemned +to hear the nightingale's song until the end of the world." + +The song has grown much softer. + +Obviously the human steps that now encircle my grave with their sullen +resonance have driven the bird to a more distant bush. + +"Who may it be," I ask myself, "that thinks of wandering to my place +of rest on an evening of May when the nightingales are singing." + +And I listen anew. It sounds almost as though some one up there were +weeping. + +Did I not go my earthly road lonely and unloved? Did I not die in the +house of a stranger? Was I not huddled away in the earth by strangers? +Who is it that comes to weep at my grave? + +And each one of the tears that is shed above there falls glowing upon +my breast.... + +And my breast rises in a convulsive struggle but the coffin lid pushes +it back. I strain my head against the wood to burst it, but it lies +upon me like a mountain. My body seems to burn. To protect it I burrow +in the saw-dust which fills mouth and eyes with its biting chaff. + +I try to cry out but my throat is paralysed. + +I want to pray but instead of thoughts the lightnings of madness shoot +through my brain. + +I feel only one thing that threatens to dissolve all my body into a +stream of flame and that penetrates my whole being with immeasurable +might: "I must live ... live...!" + +There, in my sorest need, I think of the faery who upon my desire +brought me by magic to my grave. + +"Thea, I beseech you. I have sinned against the world and myself. It +was cowardly and slothful to doubt of life so long as a spark of life +and power glowed in my veins. Let me arise, I beseech you, from the +torments of hell--let me arise!" + +And behold: the boards of the coffin fall from me like a wornout +garment. The earth rolls down on both sides of me and unites beneath +me in order to raise my body. + +I open my eyes and perceive myself to be lying in dark grass. Through +the bent limbs of trees the grave stars look down upon me. The black +crosses stand in the evening glow, and past the railings of +grave-plots my eyes blink out into the blossoming world. + +The crickets chirp about me in the grass, and the nightingale begins +to sing anew. + +Half dazed I pull myself together. + +Waves of fragrance and melting shadows extend into the distance. + +Suddenly I see next to me on the grave mound a crouching gray figure. +Between a veil tossed back I see a countenance, pallid and lovely, +with smooth dark hair and a madonna-like face. About the softly +smiling mouth is an expression of gentle loftiness such as is seen in +those martyrs who joyfully bleed to death from the mightiness of +their love. + +Her eyes look down upon me in smiling peace, clear and soulful, the +measure of all goodness, the mirror of all beauty. + +I know the dark gleam of those eyes, I know that gray, soft veil, I +know that poor sick hand, white as a blossom, that leans upon +a crutch. + +It is she, my faery, whose tears have awakened me from the dead. + +All my defiance vanishes. + +I lie upon the earth before her and kiss the hem of her garment. + +And she inclines her head and stretches her hand out to me. + +With the help of that hand I arise. + +Holding this poor, sick hand, I stride joyfully back into life. + + + + +Chapter VI. + + +I sought my faery and I found her not. + +I sought her upon the flowery fields of the South and on the ragged +moors of the Northland; in the eternal snow of Alpine ridges and in +the black folds of the nether earth; in the iridescent glitter of the +boulevard and in the sounding desolation of the sea.... And I +found her not. + +I sought her amid the tobacco smoke and the cheap applause of popular +assemblies and on the vanity fair of the professional social patron; +in the brilliance of glittering feasts I sought her and in the twilit +silence of domestic comfort.... And I found her not. + +My eye thirsted for the sight of her but in my memory there was no +mark by which I could have recognised her. Each image of her was +confused and obliterated by the screaming colours of a new epoch. + +Good and evil in a thousand shapes had come between me and my faery. +And the evil had grown into good for me, the good into evil. + +But the sum of evil was greater than the sum of good. I bent low +under the burden, and for a long space my eyes saw nothing but the +ground to which I clung. + +And therefore did I need my faery. + +I needed her as a slave needs liberation, as the master needs a higher +master, as the man of faith needs heaven. + +In her I sought my resurrection, my strength to live, my defiant +illusion. + +And therefore was I famished for her. + +My ear listened to all the confusing noises that were about me, but +the voice of my faery was not among them. My hand groped after alien +hands, but the faery hand was not among them. Nor would I have +recognised it. + +And then I went in quest of her to all the ends of the earth. + +First I went to a philosopher. + +"You know everything, wise man," I said, "can you tell me how I may +find my faery again?" + +The philosopher put the tips of his five outstretched fingers against +his vaulted forehead and, having meditated a while, said: "You must +seek, through pure intuition, to grasp all the conceptual essence of +the being of the object sought for. Therefore withdraw into yourself +and listen to the voice of your mind." I did as I was told. But the +rushing of the blood in the shells of my ears affrighted me. It +drowned every other voice. + +Next I went to a very clever physician and asked him the same +question. + +The physician who was about to invent an artificially digested porridge +in order to save the modern stomach any exertion, let his spoon fall +for a moment and said: "You must take only such foods as will tend to +add phosphorous matter to the brain. The answer to your question will +then come of itself." + +I followed his directions but instead of my faery a number of +confusing images presented themselves. I saw in the hearts of those +who were about me faery gardens and infernos, deserts and turnip +fields; I saw a comically hopping rainworm who was nibbling at a +graceful centipede; I saw a world in which darkness was lord. I saw +much else and was frightened at the images. + +Then I went to a clergyman and put my question to him. + +The pious man comfortably lit his pipe and said: "You will find no +faeries mentioned in the catechism, my friend. Hence there are none, +and it is sin to seek them. But perhaps you can help me bring back the +devil into the world, the old, authentic devil with tail and horns and +sulphurous stench. He really exists and we need him." + +After I had made inquiry of a learned jurist who advised me to have my +faery located by the police, I went to one of my colleagues, a poet of +the classic school. + +I found him clad in a red silk dressing gown, a wet handkerchief tied +around his forehead. Its purpose was to keep his all too stormy wealth +of inspiration in check. Before him on the table stood a glassful of +Malaga wine and a silver salver full of pomegranates and grapes. The +grapes were made of glass and the pomegranates of soap. But the +contemplation of them was meant to heighten his mood. Near him, nailed +to the floor, stood a golden harp on which was hung a laurel wreath +and a nightcap. + +Timidly I put my question and the honoured master spoke: "The muse, my +worthy friend--ask the muse. Ask the muse who leads us poor children +of the dust into the divine sanctuary; carried aloft by whose wings +into the heights of ether we feel truly human--ask her!" + +As it would have been necessary for me, first of all, to look up this +unknown lady, I went to another colleague--one of the modern +seekers of truth. + +I found him at his desk peering through a microscope at a dying flee +which he was studying carefully. He noted each of its movements upon +the slips of paper from which he later constructed his works. Next to +him stood some bread and cheese, a little bottle full of ether and a +box of powders. + +When I had explained my business he grew very angry. + +"Man, don't bother me with such rot!" he cried. "Faeries and elves and +ideas and the devil knows what--that's all played out. That's worse +than iambics. Go hang, you idiot, and don't disturb me." + +Sad at seeing myself and my faery so contemned, I crept away and went +to one of those modern artists in life, who had tasted with epicurean +fineness all the esctasies and sorrows of earthly life in order to +broaden his personality.... I hoped that he would understand me, too. + +I found him lying on a _chaise longue_, smoking a cigarette, and +turning the leaves of a French novel. It was _Là-bas_ by Huysmans, and +he didn't even cut the leaves, being too lazy. + +He heard my question with an obliging smile. "Dear friend, let's be +honest. The thing is simple. A faery is a woman. That is certain. +Well, take up with every woman that runs into your arms. Love them +all--one after another. You'll be sure then to hit upon your faery +some day." + +As I feared that to follow this advice I would have to waste the +better part of my life and all my conscience, I chose a last and +desperate method and went to a magician. + +If Manfred had forced Astarte back into being, though only for a +fleeting moment, why could I not do the same with the dear ruler of my +higher will? + +I found a dignified man with the eyes of an enthusiast and filthy +locks. He was badly in need of a change of linen. And so I had every +reason to consider him an idealist. + +He talked a good real of "Karma," of "materialisations" and of the +"plurality of spheres." He used many other strange words by means of +which he made it clear to me that my faery would reveal herself to me +only by his help. + +With beating heart I entered a dark room at the appointed hour. The +magician led me in. + +A soft, mysterious music floated toward me. I was left alone, pressed +to the door, awaiting the things that were to come in breathless fear. + +Suddenly, as I was waiting in the darkness, a gleaming, bluish needle +protruded from the floor. It grew to rings and became a snake which +breathed forth flames and dissolved into flame ... And the tongues of +these flames played on all sides and finally parted in curves like the +leaves of an opening lotus flower, out of whose calix white veils +arose slowly, very slowly, and became as they glided upward the +garments of a woman who looked at me, who was lashed by fear, with +sightless eyes. + +"Are you Thea?" I asked trembling. + +The veils inclined in affirmation. + +"Where do you dwell?" + +The veils waved, shaken by the trembling limbs. + +"Ask me after other things," a muffled voice said. + +"Why do you no longer appear to me?" + +"I may not." + +"Who hinders you?" + +"You." ... + +"By what? Am I unworthy of you?" + +"Yes." + +In deep contrition I was about to fall at her feet. But, coming +nearer, I perceived that my faery's breath smelled of onions. + +This circumstance sobered me a bit, for I don't like onions. + +I knocked at the locked door, paid my magician what I owed him and +went my way. + +From now on all hope of ever seeing her again vanished. But my soul +cried out after her. And the world receded from me. Its figures +dislimned into things that have been, its noise did not thunder at my +threshold. A solitariness half voluntary and half enforced dragged its +steps through my house. Only a few, the intimates of my heart and +brothers of my blood, surrounded my life with peace and kept watch +without my doors. + + * * * * * + +It was a late afternoon near Advent Sunday. + +But no message of Christmas came to my yearning soul. + +Somewhere, like a discarded toy, lay amid rubbish the motive power of +my passions. My heart was dumb, my hand nerveless, and even need--that +last incentive--had slackened to a wild memory. + +The world was white with frost.... The dust of ice and the rain of +star-light filled the world... cloths of glittering white covered the +plains.... The bare twigs of the trees stretched upwards like staves +of coral.... The fir trees trembled like spun glass. + +A red sunset spread its reflection over all. But the sunset itself was +poverty stricken. No purple lights, no gleam of seven colours warmed +the whiteness of the world. Not like the gentle farewell of the sun +but cruel as the threat of paralysing night did the bloody stripe +stare through my window. + +It is the hour of afternoon tea. The regulations of the house demand +that. + +Grayish blue steam whirls up to the shadowed ceiling and moistens with +falling drops the rounded silver of the tea urn. + +The bell rings. + +From the housekeeper's rooms floats an odour of fresh baked breads. +They are having a feast there. Perhaps they mean to prepare one for +the master, too. + +A new book that has come a great distance to-day is in my hand. + +I read. Another one has made the great discovery that the world begins +with him. + +Ah, did it not once begin with me, too? + +To be young, to be young! Ah, even if one suffers need--only to be +young! + +But who, after all, would care to retrace the difficult road? + +Perhaps you, O woman at my side? + +I would wager that even you would not. + +And I raise a questioning glance though I know her to be far ... and +who stands behind the kettle, framed by the rising of the +bluish steam? + +Ah child, have I not seen you often--you with the brownish locks and +the dark lashes over blue eyes ... you with the bird-like twitter in +the throbbing whiteness of your throat, and the light-hearted step? + +And yet, did I ever see you? Did I ever see that look which surrounds +me with its ripe wisdom and guesses the secrets of my heart? Did I +ever see that mouth so rich and firm at once which smiles upon me full +of reticent consolation and alluring comprehension? + +Who are you, child, that you dare to look me through and through, as +though I had laid my confidence at your feet? Who are you that you +dare to descend wingless into the abysms of my soul, that you can +smile away my torture and my suffocation? + +Why did you not come earlier in your authentic form? Why did you not +come as all that which you are to me and will be from this hour on? + +Why do you hide yourself in the mist which renders my recognition +turbid and shadows your outlines? + +Come to me, for you are she whom I seek, for whom my heart's blood +yearns in order to flow as sacrifice and triumph! + +You are the faery who clarifies my eye and steels my will, who brings +to me upon her young hands my own youth! Come to me and do not leave +me again as you have so often left me! + +I start up to stretch out my arms to her and see how her glance +becomes estranged and her smile as of stone. As one who is asleep with +open eyes, thus she stands there and stares past me. + +I try to find her, to clasp her, to force her spirit to see me. +Without repulsing me she glides softly from me.... The walls open. ... +The stones of the stairs break.... We flee out into the wintry +silence.... + +She glides before me over the pallid velvet of the road ... over the +tinkling glass of the frozen heath ... through the glittering boughs. +She smiles--for whom? + +The hilly fields, hardened by the frost, the bushes scattering +ice--everything obstructs my way. I break through and follow her. + +But she glides on before me, scarcely a foot above the ground, but +farther, farther ... over the broken earth, down the precipice ... to +the lake whose bluish surface of new ice melts in the distance into +the afterglow. + +Now she hangs over the bank like a cloud of smoke, and the wind that +blows upon my back, raises the edges of her dress like triangular +pennants. "Stay, Thea.... I cannot follow you across the lake! ... +The water will not upbear a mortal."... + +But the rising wind pushes her irresistibly on. + +Now I stand as the edge of the lake. The thin ice forces upward great +hollow bubbles.... + +Will it suffer my groping feet? Will it break and whelm me in brackish +water and morass? + +There is no room for hesitation. For already the wind is sweeping her +afar. + +And I venture out upon the glassy floor which is no floor at all, but +which a brief frost threw as a deceptive mirror across the deep. + +It bears me up for five paces, for six, for ten. Then suddenly the cry +of harps is in my ear and something like an earthquake quivers through +my limbs. And this sound grows into a mighty crunching and waxes into +thunder which sounds afar and returns from the distance in echoing +detonation. + +But at my left hand glitters a cleft which furrows the ice with +manicoloured splinters and runs from me into the invisible. + +What is to be done? On... on...! + +And again the harps cry out and a great rattling flies forth and +returns as thunder. And again a great cleft opens its brilliant hues +at my side. On, on ... to seek her smiling, even though the smile is +not for me. It will be for me if only I can grasp the hem of +her garment. + +A third cleft opens; a fourth crosses it, uniting it to the first. + +I must cross. But I dare not jump, for the ice must not crumble lest +an abysm open at my feet. + +It is no longer a sheet of ice upon which I travel--it is a net-work +of clefts. Between them lies something blue and all but invisible that +bears me by the merest chance. I can see the tangled water grasses +wind about and the polished fishes dart whom my body will feed unless +a miracle happens. + +Lit by the gathering afterglow a plain of fire stretches out before +me, and far on the horizon the saving shore looms dark. + +Farther ... farther! + +Sinister and deceptive springs arise to my right and left and hurl +their waters across my path.... A soft gurgling is heard and at last +drowns the resonant sound of thunder. + +Farther, farther.... Mere life is at stake. + +There in the distance a cloud dislimns which but now lured me to death +with its girlish smile. What do I care now? + +The struggle endures for eternities. The wind drives me on. I avoid +the clefts, wade through the springs; I measure the distances, for now +I have to jump.... The depths are yawning about me. + +The ice under my feet begins to rock. It rocks like a cradle, heaving +and falling at every step ... It would be a charming game were it not +a game with death. + +My breath comes flying ... my heart-beats throttle me ... sparks +quiver before my eyes. + +Let me rock ... rock ... rock back to the dark sources of being. + +A springing fountain, higher than all the others, hisses up before +me.... Edges and clods rise into points. + +One spring ... the last of all ... hopeless ... inspired by the +desperate will to live. + +Ah, what is that? + +Is that not the goodly earth beneath my feet--the black, hard, stable +earth? + +It is but a tiny islet formed of frozen mud and roots; it is scarcely +two paces across, but large enough to give security to my +sinking body. + +I am ashore, saved, for only a few arm lengths from me arises the +reedy line of the shore. + +A drove of wild ducks rises in diagonal flight. ... Purple radiance +pours through the twigs of trees.... From nocturnal heavens the first +stars shine upon me. + +The ghostly game is over! The faery hunt is as an end. + +One truth I realise: He who has firm ground under his feet needs no +faeries. + +And serenely I stride into the sunset world. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Indian Lily and Other Stories +by Hermann Sudermann + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INDIAN LILY AND OTHER STORIES *** + +This file should be named 8lily10.txt or 8lily10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8lily11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8lily10a.txt + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Michael Lockey and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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