V
"I haven't yet properly congratulated the happy bride," she feaid, trying to smile affectionately, but her eyes roved anxiously over the flowers and ribbons. "I suppose these are for the silly play?" she inquired. "Wolfgang heard about it. He says it is awfully silly." Magda replied: "He could hardly tell you anything else, since you are not acting in it." And Diederich declared: "That is just his way of excusing him self because, on his account, you are not invited to Wulckow's." Guste gave a contemptuous laugh. "We can do without the Wulckows, but we are going to the Club dance." Diederich asked: "Don't you think it would be better to wait until people have forgotten the trial?" He looked at her sympathetically. "Dear Fraulein Guste, we are old friends. You will allow me to warn you that your relations with the Bucks are not exactly a help to you in society just now." Guste's eyes flinched and it was evident that she herself had already arrived at the same conclusion. "Thank heaven," said Magda, "my Kienast is not like that." To which Emma retorted: "But Herr Buck is more interesting. I cried at his speech the other day, it was like being in the theatre."—"Why, of course!" cried Guste, taking courage. "Only yesterday he made me a present of this bag." She held up the gilt bag, at which Emma and Magda had been glancing for some time. Magda said snappishly: "I suppose he made a lot out of that brief. Kienast and I believe in economy." But Guste had had her revenge. "Well, I won't disturb you any longer," she concluded.
Diederich accompanied her downstairs. "I'll see you home, if you are good," he said, "but I must first look in at the factory. They will be breaking off work in a moment."—"But I can go with you," suggested Guste. In order to impress her he led the way to the big paper machine. "I am sure you have never seen anything like that before." He began self-importantly to explain to her the system of tanks, cutters and cylinders, through which the material passed the whole length of the room, first wet, then drier and drier, until at the end of the machine great rolls of finished paper came out. Guste shook her head. "What an idea! And the noise it makes! And the heat here!" Not yet satisfied with the effect he was making, Diederich found an excuse to thunder at the workers, and when Napoleon Fischer came up, he got all the blame.
Both shouted to drown the noise of the machine and Guste could not understand a word. But Diederich's secret fear saw beneath that straggly beard the peculiar grin which was a reminder of Fischer's complicity in the affair of the Double Cylinder, and was an open defiance of all authority. The more violent Diederich became the quieter was the other. That quietness was rebellious! Trembling and fuming Diederich opened the door of the packing-room and allowed Guste to enter. "That fellow is a Social Democrat!" he declared. "A chap like that is capable of setting fire to this place. But I will not dismiss him, just for that reason! Well see who is the stronger. I'll attend to the Social Democrats!" Guste gazed at him admiringly, as he continued: "I am sure you would never have guessed what dangerous posts people like myself must hold. Fearless and true is my motto. You see how I am defending our most sacred national possessions just like the Emperor. That requires more courage than making fine speeches in court."
Guste admitted it and her expression became thoughtful. "It is cooler here," she remarked, "after coming out of that inferno next door. The women in here should consider themselves lucky." "They?" queried Diederich. "They couldn't be better off! " He led Guste up to the table. One of the women was sorting the sheets, another checked them, and a third counted them up to five hundred. It was all done with incredible speed. The sheets flew one after another uninterruptedly, as if of their own accord, and without resisting the busy hands, which seemed to merge into the endless stream of paper that passed over them. Hands and arms, the woman herself, eyes and brain and heart. All that had come into being and lived so that the sheets might fly.…
Guste yawned; while Diederich explained the culpable negligence of the women who were working together. He was about to intervene because they passed a sheet from which the corner was torn, when Guste said rather spitefully: "You needn't imagine that Kathchen Zillich cares particularly for you … at least no more than for certain other people," she added. And her only reply to his bewildered question as to what she meant was to give a meaning smile. "But you must tell me," he repeated. Whereupon Guste assumed a most friendly air. "I am speaking only for your own good. I sup pose you haven't noticed anything? For instance, with Herr Jadassohn? But that's the sort of girl Kathchen Zillich is." Here Guste laughed loudly, Diederich looked so flabbergasted. She moved on and he followed her. "With Jadassohn?" he asked anxiously. Then the noise of the machines stopped, the bell rang to cease work, and the employes were already disappearing across the yard. Diederich shrugged his shoulders. "What Fräulein Zillich does leaves me cold," he said. "At most I am sorry for the old pastor, if that's the sort of person she is. Are you quite sure of it?" Guste looked away. "You can find that out for yourself!" Whereat Diederich felt flattered, and smiled.
"Leave the gas on," he shouted to the machinist, who was passing. "I'll turn it off myself." The rag room just happened to be wide open to let the workers out. "Oh!" cried Guste, "how romantic it looks in there." Back there in the shadow she had caught a glimpse of grey mounds splashed with many bright patches, and above these what seemed to be a forest of branches. "Ah," she said, as she drew nearer, "it is so dark here I thought …—But they are only heaps of rags and hot water pipes. …" She made a grimace. Diederich drove off the women who were resting on the sacks, in spite of orders. Several were knitting, although they had hardly ceased work. Others were eating. "No doubt you find this very comfortable!" he snorted. "Cadging heat at my expense!" They got up slowly, in silence, without a sign of resistance, and passing the strange lady, at whom they all turned to look curiously, they clattered out in their men's boots, heavy as a herd of cattle and enveloped in the odour in which they lived. Diederich kept a sharp watch on each of them until they were outside. "Fischer!" he suddenly shouted, "what has that fat one under her skirts?" With his ambiguous grin the machinist answered. "That's only because she is expecting a certain event." Whereupon Diederich turned away dissatisfied and explained to Guste. "I thought I had caught one of them. They steal rags, you know, «to make children's clothes." And when Guste turned up her nose: "It's too good for working-class brats."
With the tips of her glove Guste lifted one of the pieces from the floor. Immediately Diederich seized her wrist and kissed her hand greedily at the opening in her glove. She gave a frightened look round. "Oh, I see, they are all gone." She laughed confidently. "I guessed what you had still to do in the factory." Diederich looked at her defiantly. "Well, and what about yourself? Why did you come here at all to day? You must have come to the conclusion that I was not after all, such an impossible person. Of course, your Wolfgang—it is not everybody who can make such an ass of him self as he did in court the other day." To which Guste retorted indignantly: "Just you keep your mouth shut. You will never be half the man he is." But her eyes spoke differently, as Diederich noticed. He laughed excitedly. "How anxious he is to have you! Do you know how he regards you? As the pot in which his meal is cooking and which I am to keep stirred for him!" Guste could have annihilated him. "You're a liar!" she said. But Diederich felt in good form. "All that worries him is that there is not enough in the pot. At first, of course, he also believed you had come into a million. But you can't get a man of that type for fifty thousand marks." Then Guste's rage boiled over. She looked so dangerous that Diederich shrank back. "Fifty thousand! Are you crazy? Why must I listen to such talk? I, who have three hundred and fifty thousand in the bank in gilt edged securities. Fifty thousand! Whoever insults me by telling such stories around is open to an action for libel!" She had tears in her eyes, and Diederich stammered apologetically: "Don't mind such things," and Guste used her handkerchief. "Wolfgang knows exactly how I am situated. But you believed the lie yourself. You had the impertinence to believe it," she cried. Her rosy cushions of fat quivered with rage, and her little snub nose had turned quite pale. He recovered his presence of mind. "That shows you that, even without money, I like you," he said insinuatingly. She bit her lips. "Who knows," she said, looking at him from under her eyelashes, pouting and uncertain. "Even fifty thousand is a lot of money for people like you."
Diederich tried to persuade himself that he was getting on with Guste, but his progress was admittedly slow. The events connected with the trial had made their impression, but that was not enough. Also, he heard nothing more from Wulckow. After the momentous action of the Governor at the Veterans' Association Diederich confidently expected further developments, an approach, a mark of friendship, he did not know exactly what. Perhaps it would happen at the Harmony Club ball. Otherwise, why had his sisters been given parts in the play of the Governor's wife? But it was all hanging fire too long for one of Diederich's active temper. It was a time of stress and unrest. He overflowed with hopes, plans and prospects. As each day came round he wanted to seize everything at one stroke. And at the end of each day he found himself empty-handed. Diederich was seized by a desire for movement. Several times he did not turn up at his Stammtisch, but went out walking aimlessly in the country, a thing he never did. He turned his back on the centre of the town, tramped with energetic steps to the end of the empty Meisestrasse in the evenings, covered the whole length of Gäbbelchenstrasse, with its suburban inns, where drivers were yoking or unyoking their carts, and passed in front of the jail. Up there under the guard of a soldier and a barred window, sat Herr Lauer, who had never dreamt this would happen to him. "Pride goes before a fall," Diederich reflected. "As a man sows, so shall he reap." And although he was no stranger to the events which had brought the manufacturer to jail, Lauer now appeared to him as an uncanny creature, bearing the mark of Cain. Once he fancied he saw a figure in the prison yard. It was dark at the time, but perhaps …? A shudder ran through Diederich and he hurried away.
Beyond the city gate lay the country road to the hill on which stood Schweinichen Castle, where once upon a time little Diederich had shared with Frau Hessling the delightful thrill of the Castle ghost. That childishness was now far behind him. Now he preferred every time to turn sharply, on the other side of the gate, into the road leading to Gausenfeld. He had not intended to do so, and he hesitated, for he would not like any one to have caught him on this road. But he could not resist. The big paper factory drew him like a forbidden paradise. He simply had to go a few steps nearer to it, go round it, peep over the walls. … One evening Diederich was disturbed in this occupation by voices which were quite close in the dark. He had barely time to cower down in the ditch. While the people, probably employes of the factory who had stayed late, were passing his hiding place, Diederich closed his eyes, partly out of fear and partly because it seemed to him their covetous gleam might have betrayed him.
His heart was still beating when he returned to the city gate, and he looked round for a glass of beer. Right in the corner of the gateway stood the "Green Angel," one of the lowest inns, crooked with age, dirty and badly lighted. Just at that moment a woman's figure disappeared into the arched entrance. Seized with a desire for adventure Diederich hastened after her. As she passed the red light of a stable lantern she tried to hide her face, which was already veiled, with her muff. But Diederich had recognized her. "Good evening, Fräulein Zillich!"—"Good evening, Dr. Hessling." There they both stood with their mouths open. Käthchen Zillich was the first to speak, and she murmured something about children who lived in the house, and whom she was to take to her father's Sunday-school. Diederich began to talk, but she continued to chatter, faster and faster. No, as a matter of fact. the children did not live there, but their parents frequented this bar, and they were not to know anything about the Sunday-school, for they were Social Democrats, … She lost her head, and Diederich, who had only thought at first of his own guilty conscience, began to realise that Käthchen was in an even more suspicious position. He did not therefore, trouble to explain his presence in the "Green Angel." He simply proposed that they should wait for the children in the coffee room. Käthchen nervously refused to take anything, but out of a sense of his own powerfulness Diederich ordered beer for her also. "Your health!" he said, and his ironical look was a reminder that they had almost become engaged at their last meeting in the comfortable sitting-room of the manse. Beneath her veil Käthchen turned red and pale and spilled her beer. Every now and then she fluttered up helplessly from her chair and tried to go, but Diederich had shoved her into the corner behind the table and spread himself out in front of her. "The children should be here any moment," he said amiably. Instead it was Jadassohn who came. He entered suddenly and stood as if he had been struck dumb. The two others did not move either. "Oh, I see!" thought Diederich. Jadassohn seemed to come to a similar conclusion. Neither of the gentlemen spoke a word. Käthchen began again about children and Sunday-school. Her voice was beseeching and she was almost in tears. Jadassohn listened to her impatiently, and even remarked that some tales were too involved for him—and he gave Diederich an inquisitorial glance.
"After all," Diederich interposed, "it's very simple. Fräulein Zillich is looking for children here and we two are going to help her." "Whether she will get one is another matter," added Jadassohn smartly. "And also, who shall assist me," retorted Käthchen.
The gentlemen set down their glasses in front of them. Käthchen had stopped crying and, throwing back her veil, she looked from one to the other, with remarkably bright eyes. An open, frank tone had crept into her voice. "Well, now that you are both here," she said by way of explanation, as she took a cigarette from Jadassohn's case. Then she suddenly drank off the glass of cognac which was in front of Diederich. Now it was the latter's turn to lose his head. This other side of Käthchen did not seem unfamiliar to Jadassohn. The two of them continued to exchange double meaning witticisms until Diederich grew indignant with Käthchen. "This time I am seeing you in your true colours anyway!" he cried, striking the table. Käthchen at once resumed her most ladylike expression. "I do not understand what you mean, Dr. Hessling." Jadassohn continued: "I presume you do not intend any insinuation against the lady's honour!" Diederich stammered: "I only meant that I like Fräulein Zillich much better when she is like this." He rolled his eyes helplessly. "Recently, when we nearly became engaged, she did not appeal to me half so much." Then Käthchen laughed uproariously, with all her heart, in a way which Diederich had also never seen before. He began to feel warm and joined in her mirth, Jadassohn following, and all three rocked in the chairs with laughter and called for more cognac.
"Well, now I must be off," said Käthchen, "otherwise papa will get home before me. He has been paying sick calls, and then he always distributes pictures like these." She pulled two coloured pictures out of her leather bag. "There are some for you." Jadassohn received Magdalene the sinner, and Diederich the lamb with the shepherd. He was not satisfied. "I also want a sinful woman." Käthchen searched but could not find another. "You'll have to be content with a sheep," she decided, and they set off, Käthchen in the middle hanging on their arms. Making wide curves, all three staggered jerkily along the dimly lighted street, singing a hymn which Käthchen had started. When they came to a corner she said she would have to hurry and disappeared down a side street. "Good-bye, sheep!" she shouted to Diederich, who struggled in vain to follow her. Jadassohn held him tight, and suddenly began in authoritative tones to convince Diederich that this had all been a little fun and mere chance. "I wish to make it perfectly clear that there is absolutely no ground for misunderstanding."
"I had no idea of drawing improper conclusions," said Diederich. "And if I," continued Jadassohn, "had the privilege of being considered by the Zillich family in the light of a more intimate relationship, this accidental occurrence would not hold me back. I owe it to my sense of honour to tell you this."
Diederich replied: "I thoroughly appreciate the correctness of your conduct." Then the gentlemen clicked their heels together, shook hands and parted.
Käthchen and Jadassohn had exchanged a sign on parting, and Diederich was certain they would meet soon again at the "Green Angel." He loosened his overcoat and a feeling of pride filled him because he had stumbled into a dubious affair and had got out of it with all the rules of his code intact. He felt a certain respect and sympathy for Jadassohn. He too would have acted similarly. Men understood one another. But what a woman! That other side of Käthchen, the pastor's daughter whose face had unsuspectedly revealed the loose woman! This sly double-dealer, so remote from the simple integrity which lay at the root of his own character! He shuddered as if he had looked into an abyss. He buttoned up his coat again. He realised that outside the bourgeois world there were others beside that in which Herr Lauer now lived. He was fuming as he sat down to supper. His voice was so threatening that the three women maintained silence. Frau Hessling plucked up courage. "Don't you like your supper, my dear child?" Instead of answering Diederich began to browbeat his sisters. "I forbid you to have anything more to do with Käthchen Zillich!" As they stared at him, he blushed and exclaimed angrily: "She is an abandoned woman!" But they merely pursed their lips and did not seem particularly astonished by the fearful allusions into which he clumsily launched. "I suppose you are talking about Jadassohn?" Magda asked finally, with the utmost calm. Diederich started. So they were initiated and were in connivance; all the women probably. Guste Daimchen, too! She had once begun about it. He had to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Magda said: "If you by any chance had serious intentions with Käthchen, you never questioned us." At this Diederich, to keep himself in countenance, banged the table so that they all screamed. He forbade such insinuations, he shouted. He hoped that there were still a few decent girls left. Frau Hessling pleaded, trembling: "You have only to look at your own sisters, my dear son." And Diederich really looked at them and glared. For the first time he thought, not without fear, of what these female creatures, who were his sisters, might have been up to during their lives. … "Confound it all," he decided, pulling himself up stiffly, "the reins will simply have to be held more tightly over you. When I marry, my wife will know the reason why!" As the girls smiled at one another, he gave a start, for he remembered Guste Daimchen; were they thinking also of Guste when they smiled? He could trust nobody. He could see Guste in front of him, with her blonde white hair and plump, rosy cheeks. Her fleshy lips were parted and she was sticking out her tongue at him. That was what Käthchen Zillich had done a while back, when she shouted, "Good-bye, sheep!" And Guste, who was very similar to her in type, would have looked just like that, if she were half drunk and had her tongue out!
Magda was just saying: "Käthchen is awfully silly, but it is understandable when you have waited so long for a man and none comes." Emma at once interposed. "To whom do you refer, please? If Kathchen had been content with any Kienast she would also not have to wait any more."
Conscious that she had the facts on her side Magda did not reply, but her breast heaved.
"In any case," said Emma, rising and throwing her napkin down, "how can you believe so easily what the men say about Käthchen? It is disgusting. Are we all to remain defenceless against their gossip?" In high dudgeon she sat down in a corner and began to read. Magda simply shrugged her shoulders, while Diederich sought anxiously and in vain for a transition which would enable him to ask if Guste Daimchen also …? With such a long engagement? "There are situations," he declared, "where it is no longer just gossip." Then Emma flung away her book.
"Well, what about it? Käthchen does what she thinks fit. We girls have just as much right as you men to live our own lives! You may consider yourselves lucky if you can get us at all afterwards!"
Diederich stood up. "I will not listen to such talk in my house," he said seriously, and he glared at Magda until she stopped laughing.
Frau Hessling brought him his cigar. "I know my little Diedel will never marry any one like that"—she stroked him consolingly. He replied with great emphasis: "Mother, I cannot imagine that a true German man ever did so."
She began to flatter him: "Oh, they are not all idealists, like my dear son. Many think more materially and with the money they take something else into the bargain, which makes people talk." Under his commanding glance she continued to chatter nervously. "For instance, Guste. God knows, he is dead now, and it can't make any difference to him, but at the time there was a great deal of talk." Now all three children looked at her inquiringly. "Yes, indeed," she said soberly, "that affair of Frau Daimchen and Herr Buck; Guste was born too soon."
After this statement Frau Hessling had to take refuge behind the screen in front of the stove, for the three of them pressed upon her at the same time. "This is startling news," cried Magda and Emma together. "How did it happen?" Diederich, in his turn, thundered against more of this women's tittle-tattle. "Well, we had to listen to your men's gossip," cried the girls, as they tried to shove him away from the screen. Wringing her hands the mother looked on at the struggle. "Children, I didn't say anything, only every one said so at the time, and Herr Buck also gave Frau Daimchen a present of her dowry."
"So that's the reason," said Magda. "That's the sort of rich uncles they have in the Daimchen family! That's where the gilt bags come from!"
Diederich defended Guste's inheritance. "It comes from Magdeburg!" "And the husband?" Emma asked. "Does he comes from Magdeburg, too?" Suddenly they were all silent and looked at each other as if they had been stunned. Then Emma went quietly back to the sofa and took up her book again. Magda began to clear the table. Diederich went up to the screen behind which Frau Hessling was hidden. "Now, mother, you do not mean to tell me that Wolfgang Buck is marrying his own sister." A tearful voice answered: "My dear child, I can't help it. I had long since forgotten the old story, and then it is not certain. No living soul knows anything about it." Raising her head from her book Emma interjected: "Old Herr Buck must know where he now gets the money for his son." And into the tablecloth which she was folding Magda said: "Strange things happen." Then Diederich raised his arms, as if to appeal to heaven. Just in time he suppressed the feeling of horror which threatened to overcome him. "Have I fallen into a den of thieves and murderers?" he asked in matter-of-fact tones, as he went stiffly towards the door. There he turned. "Of course, I cannot prevent you from hawking your remarkable wisdom about the town. So far as I am concerned, I declare that I have nothing more to do with you. I'll put a notice to that effect in the papers!" He went out.
He avoided the Ratskeller, and at Klappsch's he reflected upon a world in which such horrors prevailed. The code of honour of his students' corps was obviously inadequate to such circumstances. Whoever wished to extract from the Bucks their shameful booty must not shrink from stern measures. "With mailed fist," he cried into his beer. As he clapped the lid for a fourth glass, it sounded like the rattle of swords. … After a while his stern demeanour relaxed; scruples presented themselves. His intervention would assuredly have the result that the whole town would point the finger of scorn at Guste Daimchen. No man of the slightest honour could then marry such a girl. Diederich's deepest feelings commanded him, his deeply grounded belief in manliness and idealism. What a shame! What a pity for Guste's three hundred and fifty thousand marks, which were now without a master and without an object. The opportunity would have been favourable to provide them with both. … Diederich rejected the thought with scorn. He was only doing his duty! A crime must be prevented. The woman would then see what her place was in the struggles of men. What did he care for any of these creatures who, for their part, as Diederich had learnt by experience, were capable of every treason. Only a fifth glass was now required and he had reached a decision.On the evening of the following day all the looking-glasses in the house had been brought into the sitting-room. Emma, Magda and Inge Tietz were twisting and turning in front of them until they had pains in their necks. Then they sat down nervously on the edge of a chair. "Good Heavens, isn't it time to go!" But Diederich was determined not to arrive any earlier than he did at Lauer's trial. The impression one made went to the devil when one arrived too early. When they finally started Inge Tietz apologised again to Frau Hessling for taking her place in the carriage. Once more Frau Hessling repeated: "Why, it's a pleasure. An old woman like me is not equal to these affairs. Have a good time, children I" With tears in her eyes she embraced her daughters, who repelled her coldly. They knew that all their mother was afraid of was that the only subject of conversation would be the horrible, scandalous story for which she herself was responsible.
In the carriage Inge at once began again to talk about it. "What about the Bucks and the Daimchens? I wonder if they will really have the infernal cheek to show up?" Magda remarked quietly. "They must come, otherwise they would be admitting that it is true."—"Well, suppose it is," said Emma. "It is their own affair. I am not going to get excited about it."—"Nor I," added Diederich. "The first I heard of it was from you to-night, Fräulein Tietz."
At this Fräulein Tietz lost her temper. The scandal could not be regarded in this easy fashion. Did he mean to imply that she had invented the whole story? "The thing has been notorious so long that their own servants know about it."—"I see," said Diederich, "servants' gossip," while he returned the nudge which Magda gave him with her knee. Then they had to get out and go down the steps which connected the new section of Kaiser Wilhelmstrasse with the lower level of the old Riekestrasse. Diederich cursed, for it was beginning to rain and their dancing shoes were getting wet. In front of the place where the ball was being held working people had gathered and they indulged in hostile comment. Why hadn't this old rubbish heap been torn down when that quarter of the town had been levelled up. The historical Concert Hall might have been preserved—as if the town could not afford to build a modern first-class entertainment hall in a central position. In this old shanty everything was musty.
Right at the entrance the ladies always giggled because there was a statue of Friendship clothed in nothing more substantial than a wig. "Be careful," said Diederich on the stairs, "or well fall through." The two slender curves of the stairway stretched out like the skinny arms of an old man. The reddish brown of the woodwork had faded, but at the top, where they met, there smiled from the bannisters the white marble face of the bewigged mayor, who had left all this to the city, and whose name had been Buck. Diederich sullenly ignored him, as he passed.
In the long mirrored gallery all was quiet. A solitary lady was standing in the background and seemed to be peeping into the entertainment hall through a cleft in the door. Suddenly the girls were seized with horror: the play had begun! Magda ran along the gallery and burst into tears. Then the lady turned round and put her finger to her lips. It was Frau von Wulckow, the authoress. She smiled excitedly and whispered: "It's going splendidly. They like my play. You are just in time, Fraulein Hessling; go now and change your clothes." Of course! Emma and Magda did not appear until the second act. Diederich had also lost his head. While his sisters hurried off through the ante-rooms with Inge Tietz, who was to help them, he introduced himself to the Governor's wife and stood there not knowing what to do. "You can't go in now," she said, "it would disturb people." Diederich stammered his apologies and then rolled his eyes, and thus caught a glimpse of his mysteriously pale reflection among the gaudy rows of half-dulled mirrors. The tender yellow varnish of the walls played freakish tricks and the colours of flowers and faces were extinguished in the panels. … Frau von Wulckow shut a little door, through which somebody seemed to enter, a shepherdess with her beribboned staff. She shut the door very carefully, so that the performance should not be disturbed, but a little cloud of dust arose, as if it was powder from the hair of the painted shepherdess.
"This house is so romantic," whispered Frau von Wulckow. "Don't you think so, Dr. Hessling? When one looks at oneself in the mirror here, one fancies one is wearing a hoop-petticoat." At this Diederich, more and more bewildered, looked at her evening gown. Her bare shoulders were hollow and rather stooped, her hair was extremely fair and she carried a pince-nez.
"You fit these surroundings perfectly, Madame … Countess," he corrected, and he was rewarded with a smile for this bold flattery. Not every one would have reminded Frau von Wulckow so aptly that she was born Countess Züsewitz!
"As a matter of fact," she said, "it is hard to believe that in its time this home was not built for distinguished society, instead of for the good burghers of Netzig." She smiled reflectively. "But to-day, Countess, you can doubtless feel quite at home here." "I am sure you have a feeling for the beautiful," Frau von Wulckow hazarded, and as Diederich admitted it, she declared he must not miss the first act altogether, but must look through the cleft in the door. For some time she had been showing obvious signs of impatience, and with her fan she pointed in the direction of the stage. "Major Kunze will go off in a moment. He is not very good, but it can't be helped, he is on the Club committee, and was the first to point out to these people the artistic significance of my work." While Diederich had no trouble in recognising the major, who had not changed his appearance in the least, the authoress with lightning fluency gave him a synopsis of what had gone before. The young peasant girl, with whom Kunze was speaking, was his natural daughter, that is, the daughter of a Count, and for that reason the play was called "The Secret Countess." As gruff as ever, he was just explaining the circumstances to her. He was also telling her of his intention to marry her to a poor cousin and leave her one-half of his possessions. On that account, after he had gone, there was great rejoicing on the part of the girl and her foster-mother, the honest herdsman's wife.
"Who is that dreadful person?" asked Diederich, without thinking. Frau Von Wulckow looked astonished.
"That's the comic female lead from the State Theatre. We had nobody else who could play the part, but my niece rather likes acting with her." Diederich started in horror, for it was the niece he had described as a dreadful person. "Your niece is absolutely charming," he hastened to assure her and smiled delightedly at the fat, red face, which seemed to rest directly on the shoulders—and they were Wulckow's shoulders! "And she has plenty of talent, too," he added for safety. Frau von Wulckow whispered: "Just watch"—and there came Jadassohn out from the wings. What a surprise. His clothes were freshly pressed and with his fashionably cut morning coat he wore an immense stock, in which a red stone of imposing dimensions glittered. But however bright its glow, Jadassohn's ears glowed even more brightly. As his head was closely cropped and very flat, his ears stood out and illuminated his grandeur like two lamps. He swung his yellow gloved hands about as if he were pleading for many years' imprisonment. As a matter of fact, he was saying the most terrible things to the niece, who seemed thunder-struck, and to the comic old lady who was yelling. … Frau von Wulckow whispered: "He is a bad character." "I should say he is," said Diederich with conviction. "Do you know my play?" "Oh, I see. No. But I can guess what he wants to do." The situation was that Jadassohn, who was the son and heir of the old Count Kunze, had been eavesdropping, and was not at all disposed to share with the niece the possessions with which God had endowed him. He imperatively commanded her to clear out, otherwise he would have her arrested as a fraudulent legatee and remove her from Kunze's guardianship.
"What a cad," said Diederich. "After all, she is his sister." The author explained to him:
"That is true, but, on the other hand, he is right in wanting to entail the estates. He is working for the good of the whole family, even though the individual should suffer. Of course, that is tragic for the secret countess."
"When you look at it properly —" Diederich was delighted. This aristocratic standpoint suited him perfectly, when he felt disinclined to give Magda a share in the business on her marriage.
"Countess, your play is excellent," he said, with deep conviction. But just then Frau von Wulckow anxiously seized his arm. There was a noise amongst the audience; chairs were scraped and people were sniggering and blowing their noses. "He is overdoing it," stormed the authoress. "I always told him so."
Jadassohn was really acting outrageously. He had cornered the niece, together with the comic lady, behind a table, and filled the whole stage with noisy demonstrations of his aristocratic personality. The more hostile the audience became, the more aggressively did he realise his part on the stage. Now they were actually hissing. Several people had even turned towards the door behind which Frau von Wulckow was trembling, and were hissing. Perhaps it was only because the door was squeaking—but the authoress drew back, lost her glasses, and in helpless horror clawed the air, until Diederich restored them to her. He tried to console her. "This doesn't matter. Jadassohn goes off very soon, doesn't he?" He was listening through the closed door. "Yes, thank Heaven!" she cried, while her teeth chattered. "Now he has finished. Now my niece flees with the comic old lady and then Kunze returns, you know, with the lieutenant."
"Is there a lieutenant in the play also?" asked Diederich, obviously impressed. "Yes, that is to say, he is still at college; he is the son of Judge Sprezius. He is the poor relation, you know, whom the old Count wishes his daughter to marry. He promises the old man that he will search the whole world for the secret Countess."
"Very naturally," said Diederich. "It is in his own interest to do so."
"You will see, he is a noble character."
"But Jadassohn, Countess. If you will allow me to say so, you should not have given him a part," said Diederich reproachfully and with secret satisfaction. "If only on account of his ears."
Frau von Wulckow felt crushed, as she replied: "I did not think that they would have such an effect on the stage. Do you think it will be a failure?"
"Countess!" Diederich laid his hand on his heart. "A play like The Secret Countess' cannot be spoiled so easily! Isn't that so? In the theatre it is artistic significance that counts."
"Certainly. But it must be admitted a pair of ears like that have a great deal of influence"—Diederich looked thoughtful.
Frau von Wulckow cried pleadingly. "The second act is a great deal better. The scene takes place in the house of an upstart manufacturer, where the secret countess is engaged as housemaid. They have a music-teacher, a vulgar person, who has even kissed one of the daughters, and he now proposes to the Countess, but she naturally repulses him. A music-teacher! How could she?"
Diederich agreed that it was out of the question.
"But now you will see how tragic it becomes. The daughter who allowed the music-teacher to kiss her becomes engaged to a lieutenant at a dance, and when the lieutenant comes to the house, it is the same lieutenant who—"
"Good Heavens, Countess!" Diederich stretched out his hands in self-defence, quite excited by so many complications. "How do you think of such things?"
The authoress smiled passionately. "Yes, it is that which is most interesting. Afterwards one doesn't know how it happens. It is worked out so mysteriously in one's mind! Sometimes I think I must have inherited the gift."
"Have you so many authors in your respected family?"
"Not exactly. But if my great ancestor had not won the battle of Kröchenwerda, who knows if I should have written The Secret Countess'? After all, it is always a question of birth."
Diederich bowed awkwardly when he heard the name of the battle and did not dare to continue the subject.
"Now the curtain ought to fall any moment," said Frau von Wulckow. "Do you hear anything?"
He could hear nothing.—The authoress alone was oblivious of the door and the walls. "Now the lieutenant is vowing eternal fidelity to the distant Countess," she whispered. "Now"—and all the blood rushed to her face. Immediately it flowed back with a rush. People were applauding, not violently but still it was applause. The door was opened from inside. In the background the curtain had risen again, and when young Sprezius and the Wulckows' niece came for ward, the applause was more animated. Suddenly Jadassohn hastened out from the wings, planted himself in front of the pair and looked as if he would take their success for himself. At this the audience hissed. Frau von Wulckow turned away indignantly. To Mayor Scheffelweis's mother-in-law and to Frau Harnisch, who were congratulating her, she declared: "Herr Jadassohn is impossible as Public Prosecutor. I shall tell my husband so."
The phrase was at once repeated by the ladies and made, a great hit. The gallery of mirrors was suddenly filled with groups adversely criticising Jadassohn's ears. "The play is Srell written, but Jadassohn's ears. …" But when it became known that he would not appear in the second act, people were disappointed. Wolfgang Buck, with Guste Daimchen, came up to Diederich. "Have you heard the latest?" he asked. "Jadassohn is to issue a writ and confiscate his ears." Diederich answered coldly: "I cannot see any joke in another's misfortune," and as he said this he carefully watched the glances which Buck and his companion exchanged. Every one brightened up at the sight of this couple. Jadassohn was forgotten. From the doorway the high-pitched voice of Professor Kühnchen was heard above the din saying something that sounded like "infernal outrage." When Frau Zillich laid her hand entreatingly upon his arm he turned in their direction, and could be heard distinctly: "It is an absolute outrage!"
Guste looked round and her eyes narrowed. "There they are talking about it also," she said mysteriously.
"About what?" stammered Diederich.
"Oh, we know all about that. And I also know who began it." Diederich broke into a perspiration. "What on earth is wrong with you?" asked Guste. Buck who was eyeing the refreshment room through a side-door, said calmly:
"Hessling is a cautious politician; he does not like to hear that, while the Mayor is a devoted husband, he cannot, at the same time, refuse his mother-in-law anything."
Diederich blushed deeply. "That is a mean thing to say! How can you be such a cad?"
Guste giggled violently, but Buck remained unmoved. "In the first place, it appears to be a fact that Her Ladyship caught the two of them by surprise and told a friend about it. But in any case, it was self-evident."
Guste remarked: "Well, Dr. Hessling, you would never have guessed such a thing, of course." As she said this she gave her fiance a tender smile. Diederich looked daggers. "Huh," he said severely. "Anyway, I know enough now." And he turned on his heels. So they themselves were inventing scandals, and about the Mayor, into the bargain! Diederich felt he could hold his head high. He made for Kühnchen's group, which was steering towards the refreshment room, leaving behind a wake of moral indignation. The Mayor's mother-in-law, purple in the face, swore that "this crew" would in future see her house only from the outside. Several of the ladies seconded the resolution, in spite of the defection of Frau Cohn, who, in the absence of further information, doubted the whole story, because a moral lapse of that kind by a tried and true old Liberal like Herr Buck seemed inconceivable. Professor Kühnchen was rather of the opinion that morality was being threatened by exaggerated radicalism. Even Dr. Heuteufel, although he had instituted the freethought Sunday festivals, remarked that old Buck had never lacked a sense of family, of nepotism, he might say. "You can all easily recall cases in point. That he should now try to marry his illegitimate with his legitimate offspring, in order to keep the money in the family, I should diagnose medically as the senile manifestation of a natural tendency hitherto repressed." At this the ladies looked shocked and the Pastor's wife sent Kathchen to the cloak-room to fetch her handkerchief.
On her way Kathchen passed Guste Daimchen, but she hung down her head and did not salute her. Guste seemed crushed. In the refreshment room people noticed this and expressions of disapproval were mixed with sympathy. Guste was now to learn what it meant to defy public morality. It might have been remembered in her favour that she perhaps had been deceived and influenced for evil. But Frau Daimchen knew the exact circumstances and she was warned! The Mayor's mother-in-law related her visit to Guste's mother, and her vain efforts, by pointed allusion, to wring a confession from the hardened old lady, whose youthful dream was doubtless realised by this legitimate connection with the Buck family!
"Well, but what about Herr Buck, barrister-at-law?" screamed Kühnchen. As a matter of fact, who did he think believed that he was not fully acquainted with this new scandal connected with his family? Was he not aware of the offences of the Lauer household? And yet he did not hesitate to wash the dirty linen of his sister and his brother-in-law in open court, simply in order to get talked about. Dr. Heuteufel, who was still driven to try and justify belatedly his own attitude during the trial, declared: "That man is no advocate, he is simply a comedian!" When Diederich raised the point that Buck, after all, had definite, if arguable, views in politics and morals he was told: "You, Dr. Hessling, are his friend. That you should defend him is to your credit, but you cannot teach us." Whereupon Diederich retired, with a worried look, but not without a glance at the editor, Rothgroschen, who was modestly chewing a ham sandwich and taking everything in.
All of a sudden there was dead silence, for in the room near the stage old Herr Buck could be seen surrounded by a group of young girls. Apparently he was explaining the paintings on the walls, the life of former times, whose faded gaiety enveloped the whole room; and the area of the city as it used to be, with meadows and gardens now no more, and all the people who once were the noisy masters of this festive house, and were now banished into the depths of Beyond by the generation which was at this moment so clamorous. … Now it seemed as if the old man and the girls were imitating the figures. Just above them was a picture of the city gate, and a gentleman in his wig and chain of office was coming out, the same who stood in marble at the head of the stairs. In the lovely wood full of flowers, which had stood where the Gausenfeld paper factory now was, bright children were dancing towards him, throwing a wreath about him, with which they tried to turn him round. The reflection of rosy little clouds fell upon his happy face. Just so happily old Buck was smiling at that moment, as he let himself be dragged hither and thither by the girls, who had encircled him like a living wreath. His freedom from care was incomprehensible, and was a positive irritation. Had he stifled his conscience to such a degree that his illegitimate daughter … "Our daughters are not illegitimate children," said Frau Cohn. "My Sidonie arm in arm with Guste Daimchen!" … Buck and his young friends did not notice that they had reached the end of an empty space. In the forefront a hostile public formed a wall. Eyes were gleaming and anger rose. "The family has been on top far too long! One is now safe in jail. The turn of number two will soon come!" Two ladies impetuously broke out of the crowd, made a run and crossed the empty space. The wife of Councillor Harnisch, rolling along in her red satin train, met Frau Cohn, in yellow, exactly at their common goal. With the same gesture the one seized her Sidonie and the other her Meta, and what satisfaction when they returned to their starting point! "I nearly fainted," said Frau Zillich, when Kathchen fortunately turned up. Good humour was restored and people joked about the old sinner, comparing him with the Count in Frau von Wulckow's play. It is true, Guste was not a secret Countess; but one could sympathise with such conditions in a story, in order to be agreeable to the wife of the Governor. There the conditions were tolerable, for the Countess was only going to marry her cousin, whereas Guste…!
Old Buck looked puzzled when he became aware that there was nobody near him except his prospective daughter-in-law and one of his nieces. Indeed, he was obviously embarrassed by the curious glances which were cast at him in his isolation. This was noticed and commented upon and even Diederich began to wonder if there wasn't, after all, some truth in Frau Hessling's story of the scandal. He himself had become frightened, since he saw the phantom, which he had sent forth into the world, taking tangible shape and becoming ever more threatening. This time it was not a mere nobody like Lauer. It was old Herr Buck, the most honourable figure of Diederich's childhood, the great man of the town, and the personification of its civic virtues—the man who had been condemned to death. in Forty-Eight! In his own heart Diederich felt a revulsion against what he had begun. Besides, it was folly; it would take more than that to smash the old man. But if it ever came out who had started it, then Diederich would have to be prepared to see every one turn against him. … At all events, he had aimed a stroke and it had not missed. Now it was not only the family which was shaky and hung about the old man like a weight: the brother on the verge of bankruptcy, the son-in-law in jail, the daughter away on a trip with her lover, and of the two sons, one degraded to the level of a peasant, and the other suspect on account of his life and his opinions. Now he himself was beginning to shake, for the first time. Down with him so that Diederich might rise! Nevertheless, Diederich was frightened to the very marrow of his bones. He got up to inspect the ante-rooms. He ran, for the bell was ringing for the second act.
Wulckow appeared in the doorway. He came up, his paunchswinging from side to side, laid his black paw on the shoulder of Dr. Scheffelweis and said in stentorian tones: "Well, my little Mayor, all alone here? I suppose your town councillors have thrown you out?" Dr. Scheffelweis answered with a feeble laugh. But Diederich looked round anxiously at the door of the large room, which was still open. He went up in front of Wulckow, so that the latter could not be seen from the other room, and whispered something in his ear, with the result that the Governor turned away and adjusted his clothing. Then he said to Diederich: "'Pon my soul, you really are very serviceable, Doctor." Diederich felt flattered and smiled. "Your appreciation, Governor, makes me happy."
Wulckow graciously remarked: "No doubt there are a lot of other things you can tell me. We must talk things over together some time.'* He thrust forward his face, freckled and with high Slavic cheekbones, and stared at Diederich from the depths of his Mongolian eyes, which were full of warm-blooded, impish strength. He stared until Diederich became breathless from sheer nervousness. This result seemed to satisfy Wulckow. He brushed his beard in front of the mirror, but immediately pressed it down on his shirt front, because his head looked like a bull's. "Well, let's go! The fool show has begun, hasn't it?" With Diederich and the Mayor on either side he set out energetically to disturb the performance. Then a piping voice from the refreshment room was heard:
"Good Heavens, Otto dear!"
"Oh, there she is," growled Wulckow, as he went to meet his wife. "I might have guessed. When it comes to the point she is afraid. More dash, my dear Frieda!"
"Gracious, Otto darling, I am so horribly frightened." Turning to the two other gentlemen, she chatted rapidly, although her teeth were chattering. "I know one ought to go into the battle with a more joyful heart."
"Especially," said Diederich with ready tact, "when it is already won," and he bowed politely. Frau von Wulckow tapped him with her fan.
"Dr. Hessling kept me company out here during the first act. He has feeling for the Beautiful, and even gives one useful hints."
"I have noticed that myself," said Wulckow, while Diederich kept bowing alternately to him and to his wife, overflowing with gratitude. "Why shouldn't we stay here near the supper-table?" the Governor asked.
"That was also my plan of campaign," confided Frau von Wulckow, "the more so as I have now discovered that there is a little door which opens into the large room. In this way we can enjoy the isolation from what is happening, which I need, and yet keep in touch with things."
"My little Mayor," said Wulckow, smacking his lips, "you ought to get some of that lobster salad." He pulled Dr. Scheffelweis's ear, and added: "In that matter of the Labour Exchange, the town council has again cut a very poor figure."
The Mayor was eating obediently and listening obediently, while Diederich stood beside Frau von Wulckow and peeped out at the stage. There Magda Hessling was having a music lesson and the teacher, a black-haired virtuoso, was giving her passionate kisses, which she did not happen to resent particularly. "It's a good thing Kienast is not here," thought Diederich, but even on his own account he felt offended, and he remarked:
"Don't you think, Countess, that the music-teacher's acting is too realistic?"
The authoress answered coldly: "That was precisely my intention."
"I only meant …" Diederich stammered, and then he started, for Frau Hessling appeared in the doorway, or a lady who looked very like her. Emma also came, the couple were caught and were crying and screaming. Wulckow was obliged to raise his voice.
Dr. Scheffelweis tried to answer him, but Magda yelled that she had no intention of marrying the man, the servant was good enough for him. The authoress remarked: "She should say that in a much more vulgar way. They are only parvenus."
Diederich smiled in agreement, although he was terribly humiliated by such a state of affairs in a home that was like his own. In his own mind he thought Emma was quite right, when she declared there must be no scandal, and sent for the servant. But when the latter appeared, hang it all, it was the secret Countess!
The Wulckows' niece addressed herself to the public, as the manufacturer's family was not supposed to hear.
"What! I, the daughter of a Count, am to marry a music-teacher? Far from me such a thought, even if they should promise me a trousseau. Others may debase themselves for money, but I know what I owe to my noble birth!"
At this there was applause. Frau Harnisch and Frau Tietz were observed wiping away the tears which the Countess's nobility of mind had provoked. But their tears flowed again when the niece said:
"But, alas, where shall I, as a servant, find one so well born as myself?"
"As an officer," said the lieutenant, "I cannot, my dear Magda, allow this girl to be badly treated, even if she is only a poor servant."
The lieutenant in the first act, the poor cousin, who was to marry the secret Countess, was Magda's fiance! The audience was trembling with excitement. Even the authoress noticed it. "Inventiveness is one of my strongest points," she said to Diederich, who was absolutely flabbergasted. But Dr. Scheffelweis had no time to abandon himself to the emotions of the drama. He was defending himself against Wulckow.
The niece, on the other hand, was shouting to the public: "Surely he must see that I am a Countess, he who is sprung from the same noble line!"
"Oh, Countess," said Diederich, "now I really am curious to know if he will recognise the fact."
"Of course," replied the authoress. "They recognise each other because of their finer manners."
As a matter of fact, the lieutenant and the niece were exchanging glances, because Emma, Magda and Frau Hessling were eating cheese with a knife. Diederich was open-mouthed. The vulgar demeanour of the manufacturer's family evoked the greatest amusement in the audience. The Buck girls, Frau Cohn and Guste Daimchen were all delighted. Even Wulckow became interested. He licked the grease from his fingers and said:
"You're all right; they are laughing."
Then a laugh was heard of a different kind. It was quite unrestrained and was obviously caused by some mishap. The authoress retreated precipitately behind the supper-table. She looked as if she would like to creep into the sideboard. "Gracious heavens," she whispered, "all is lost!" Her husband stood sternly at the door and said: "Come now, come now!" but even this could no longer check their mirth. Magda had said to the Countess: "Hurry up, now, you silly country lout, and see that the lieutenant gets his coffee." Another voice corrected, "tea," Madga repeated "coffee," the other insisted and so did Magda. The public saw there was a misunderstanding between her and the prompter. Happily the lieutenant intervened, clicked his spurs and said: "I'll take both"—whereat the laughter became less confident. But the authoress was raging. "The public! It is and always will be a beast!" she snarled.
"My sister is a goose," said Diederich. "I shall tell her what I think of her afterwards."
Frau von Wulckow smiled deprecatingly. "The poor thing, she is doing her best. But the arrogance and impertinence of the crowd is really intolerable. Only a moment ago I had raised them to an enthusiasm for the ideal."
"Countess," said Diederich with conviction, "you are not only the one to have this bitter experience. It is the same everywhere in public life." He was thinking of the general exaltation at the time of his clash with the calumniator of His Majesty, and of the trials which he subsequently bore. "In the end the good cause triumphs," he said firmly.
"Isn't that so?" she agreed with a smile which seemed to pierce through the clouds. "The Good, the True, the Beautiful."
She held out her slender hand. "I believe, my friend, that we understand one another." Conscious of the occasion, Diederich boldly pressed it to his lips, and bowed. He placed his hand on his heart and declared from the depths of his soul: "You can trust me, Countess…"
The curtain fell, the audience slowly emerged from its ecstasy, and expressed its feelings all the more deeply by applauding the servant and the lieutenant who, it was unfortunately evident, would have to bear still longer with the cruel fate of not being received at Court.
"It is really awful!" sighed Frau Harnisch and Frau Cohn. Meanwhile the Governor's wife was holding a reception in the mirrored gallery and receiving congratulations, while Diederich tried to work up the enthusiasm. Heuteufel, Cohn, Harnisch and several gentlemen made his task difficult, for they let it be understood, though cautiously, that they considered the whole thing piffle. Diederich had to give them hints about the absolutely first-rate third act, in order to shut them up. He dictated a detailed account of what the authoress had told him to Rothgroschen, who had to leave, as the paper was going to press. "If you write any nonsense, you damned penny-a-liner, I'll punch your head!" Rothgroschen thanked him and took his leave. Professor Kühnchen, who was listening, buttonholed Diederich and shrieked: "I say, old man, there's one thing you forgot to tell our gossip-monger." The editor, hear ing himself mentioned, returned, and Kühnchen continued: "I mean that the magnificent invention of our honoured hostess has been anticipated, and from no less a person than Goethe in his 'Natürliche Tochter.' Now, that is the highest praise that can be given to the author!"
Diederich had his doubts about the appropriateness of Kühnchen's discovery, but deemed it unnecessary to state them. The little old man was already fighting his way through the throng, his hair streaming wildly, and he could be seen stopping in front of Frau von Wulckow and explaining to her the result of his researches into comparative literature. Such a fiasco as he experienced could not have been foreseen, even by Diederich. The authoress said in icy tones: "There must be some mistake in what you say, Professor. Is the 'Natürliche Tochter' by Goethe at all?" she asked, turning up her nose suspiciously. Kühnchen assured her it was, but in vain.
"In any case, you have read in the newspaper a novel by me, 'The Beloved Home,' and that is what I have now dramatised. My creations are all original work. Gentlemen"—she looked around her—"you will deny any malicious rumours to the contrary."
Thereupon Kühnchen was dismissed, and withdrew gasping. In a tone of condescending sympathy Diederich reminded him of Rothgroschen, who had gone off with his dangerous in formation, and Kiihnchen tore after him to prevent the worst.
When Diederich turned round again, the scene in the room had altered. Not only the Governor's wife, but old Buck was holding a reception. It was amazing, but one learnt to know people as they really are. They could not bear the idea that they had previously given free rein to their instincts. With expressions of regret one after another came up to the old gentleman, and tried to look as if they had done nothing. Even after deep convulsions, such was the power of what is, and what has long been accepted. Diederich himself found it advisable not to remain too noticeably in the rear of the majority. After he had made sure that Wulckow was gone, he went up to pay his compliments. The old man was just sitting alone in an armchair which had been placed for him right up in front near the stage. He let his white hand hang very gently over the arm and looked up at Diederich.
"There you are, my dear Hessling. I have often regretted that you never came"—he said it so simply and considerately that Diederich felt tears again coming immediately to his eyes. He gave him his hand and was glad when Herr Buck held it a little longer than was necessary. He began to stammer something about business, troubles and "to tell the honest truth"—for he was seized with a strong desire for honour—about doubts and fears.
"It is fine of you," said the old man, "not to let me guess that, but to confess it. You are young and are probably affected by the impulses which men's minds follow nowadays. I will not give in to the impatience of old age."
Diederich's eyes were downcast, for he understood this was forgiveness for the trial which had taken away the civic honours of the old man's son-in-law. He felt uncomfortable in the face of such mildness, such self-forgetfulness. The old man continued:
"I respect the fight and know it too well to hate any one who is against my friends." At this Diederich, seized with fear lest this should lead too far, took refuge in denial. He hardly knew himself … you get into things. … The old man made it easy for him. "I know, you are seeking and have not yet found yourself."
His white curly beard was sunk in his silk neckerchief. When he raised his head Diederich saw that something new was coming.
"You haven't bought the house behind yours," said he. "I suppose you have changed your plans?"
Diederich thought: "He knows everything," and could see all his most secret calculations revealed.
Herr Buck smiled slily and kindly. "Perhaps you will shortly be moving the site of your factory, and then make your extensions. I can imagine you would like to sell the site and are waiting for a certain opportunity—of which, I, too, am taking account," he added, and with a glance at Diederich: "The town is thinking of erecting an Infants' Asylum."
"Not at all, Herr Buck. I will not surrender the family property."
Then the old man took his hand again. "I will not tempt you," he said. "Your family piety does you credit."
"Idiot!" thought Diederich.
"Then we must look for another site. Indeed, you perhaps will help us. We do not want to lose a disinterested desire to serve the common welfare, my dear Hessling, even though it seems momentarily to be working in the wrong direction.
He stood up.
"If you run for the Town Council I will support you." Diederich stared, unable to understand him. The old man's eyes were blue and deep, and he was just offering Diederich the public office for which Diederich had ruined his son-in-law. He did not know whether to spit in disgust, or crawl away in shame. He decided it was preferable to click his heels and politely to tender his thanks.
"You see," the old man resumed, "a sense of the common welfare bridges the gap between young and old, and even extends beyond to those who are no longer with us."
He moved his hands in a circle over the walls where the people of former times seemed to step out of their painted background, faded but full of gaiety. He smiled at the young girls in their hoop skirts, and also at one of his nieces and Meta Harnisch, who were passing. When he turned his face towards the old Mayor, who was coming through the city gate, amidst flowers and children, Diederich noticed the similarity between them. Old Buck pointed out one person and then another amongst the people in the pictures.
"I have heard a great deal about that man. I used to know that lady. Doesn't the clergyman look like Pastor Zillich? No, there can never be a serious estrangement between us. For a long time past we have been jointly pledged to good-will and our common progress, also by those who bequeathed to us this Harmony Club."
"Nice harmony!" thought Diederich, as he looked about for an excuse to get away. The old gentleman, as usual, had made a transition from business to sentimental twaddle. "The literary gent is always in evidence," was Diederich's reflection.
Just then Guste Daimchen and Inge Tietz passed; Guste had taken her arm and Inge was bragging about her experiences behind the scenes. "We were awfully frightened when they kept on saying: 'tea, coffee, tea,'" Guste declared. "Next time Wolfgang will write a much finer play and I'll have a part," At this Inge disengaged her arm and assumed an expression of chaste repulsion. "Oh, indeed?" she said, and Guste's fat face at once lost its harmless air of enthusiasm.—"Why not, may I ask?" she said, tearfully indignant. —"What on earth is wrong with you again?" Diederich, who could have told her, turned back hastily to old Buck, who talked on.
"We have the same friends nowadays as in former times, and the same enemies too. But he has almost faded out, that armoured knight, the children's bogey there in the niche near the gate. Don Antonio Manrique, you cruel cavalier, who laid poor Netzig under contribution in the Thirty Years' War, where would even the faintest echo of your fame be, if Riekestrasse had not been named after you? experi He was another of those who did not like our sense of freedom and thought he could destroy us."
Suddenly a silent chuckle shook the old man. He took Diederich's hand: "Don't you think he looks like our Herr von Wulckow?"
Diederich looked very solemn, but the old man did not notice it. Now that he had once started, other things occurred to him. He motioned to Diederich to follow him behind a group of plants, and showed him two figures on the wall, a young shepherd, whose arms were opened longingly, and on the other side of the brook a shepherdess, who was preparing to jump across. Herr Buck whispered: "What do you think? Do you believe they will meet? Very few people know that now, but I still remember." He looked round to make sure he was not being watched, then suddenly he opened a little door which nobody would ever have discovered. The shepherdess on the door moved towards her lover. A little more, and she would lie in his arms in the dark behind the door. … The old man pointed to the room which he had revealed. "This is called the cabinet of love." The light of a lantern from some courtyard streamed through the uncurtained window, lit up the mirror and the spindle-legged sofa. Mr. Buck took a long breath of the musty air which was wafted out after goodness knows how many years. He smiled absentmindedly and then shut the little door.
Diederich, who was not much interested in all this, observed the approach of something that promised to be much more exciting. It was Judge Fritzsche who had arrived. His leave was probably over, he was back from the south, and he had put in an appearance, though rather late, and also without Judith Lauer, whose holiday would last so long as her husband was in prison. As he approached, with a swinging stride which did not deceive the onlookers, there was a great deal of whispering, and every one whom he greeted stole a glance at old Herr Buck. Fritzsche doubtless realised that, in the circumstances, he would have to do something. He plucked up his courage and went ahead. The old man, who was still unaware of his presence, suddenly found Fritzsche in front of him. He turned very pale. Diederich was frightened and stretched out his arms, but nothing happened. The old man had recovered himself. He stood there, holding him self so stiffly erect that his back was hollow, and looked calmly and steadily at the man who had seduced his daughter.
"Back so soon, Judge?" he asked in a loud tone. Fritzsche tried to laugh genially. "The weather was nicer down south, Herr Buck. And how is art?" "We have only a reflection of it here," and without taking his eyes off Fritzsche he motioned towards the walls. His demeanour made an impression on most of those who were watching eagerly for a sign of weakness. He held fast and did the honours in a situation which would have rendered a certain lack of self-restraint explicable. He stood for the old dignity, he alone, on behalf of his ruined family, of his following, which was conspicuously absent. In that moment he gained the sympathies of many, in place of the many he had lost. … Diederich heard him saying, in clear, formal tones: "I succeeded in having our modern street plan altered in order to spare this house and these paintings. They have only the value of descriptive records, it may be. But a picture which lends permanence to its own times and manners may hope for permanence itself." Then Diederich retreated; for he was ashamed on Fritzsche's account.The secret Countess had now married the music-teacher and every one was impressed by her tragic fate. Frau Harnisch, Frau Cohn and the Mayor's mother-in-law had been weeping. Jadassohn, who had washed off the grease-paint, and come to receive congratulations, was not well received by the ladies. "It is your fault, Dr. Jadassohn, that this happened! After all, she was your own sister." "I beg your pardon, ladies," and Jadassohn proceeded to defend his attitude as the legitimate heir to the count's possessions. Then Meta Harnisch said: "Well, you did not have to be so nasty about it."
Immediately every one looked at his ears and sniggered. Jadassohn, who kept asking in vain what was the matter, was taken aside by Diederich. With a pleasant thrill of revenge in his heart Diederich led him right up to where the Governor's wife was saying good-bye to Major Kunze, with the liveliest expressions of thanks for his efforts on behalf of her play. As soon as she saw Jadassohn she turned her back on him. Jadassohn stood as if rooted to the spot. Diederich did not bring him any further. "What's wrong?" he asked hypocritically. "Oh, of course, Frau von Wulckow. You have annoyed her. You are not to be made Public Prosecutor. Your ears are too prominent."
Whatever Diederich may have expected, Jadassohn's monstrous grimace was a surprise! Where was the lofty good form to which he had dedicated his life? "I say I shall," was all he could say, quite softly, yet it seemed like a terrible cry. Then he began to move, stamping with rage as he spoke: "You may laugh, my friend! You do not know what an asset your face is. If I only had your face I'd be a Cabinet Minister in ten years." "Come, come!" said Diederich. "You don't require the whole face, only the ears," he added.
"Will you sell them to me?" asked Jadassohn, with a look that frightened Diederich. "Is that possible?" he asked dubiously. With a cynical laugh Jadassohn went up to Heuteufel, who declared that, as a matter of fact, operations were performed, though so far only in Paris, by which the size of the ears could be reduced by one-half. "Why remove the lot?" he queried.—"You can keep half of them," Jadassohn had recovered himself. "That's a good joke! I'll tell it in court, you old rascal!" said he, digging Heuteufel in the ribs.
Meanwhile Diederich had gone off to meet his sisters, who had changed into their ball dresses and were coming out of the dressing room. They were greeted with applause on all sides, and gave their impressions of what had happened on the stage. "Tea—coffee: heavens, wasn't that exciting!" said Magda. As their brother, Diederich also received congratulations. He got between them, and Magda at once linked her arm in his, but he had to hold Emma tightly. "Stop this play acting," she hissed. Between nods and smiles he snorted at her: "I know you had only a smart part, but consider yourself lucky to have had a part at all—Look at Magda!" Magda nestled willingly against him and seemed ready to be a perambulating picture of the happy united family as long as ever he liked. "My dear little sister," he said, with tender respect, "you have had a success. But I can assure you so have I." He even began to pay her compliments. "You look stunning to-night. You are much too nice for Kienast." When the Governor's wife nodded to them graciously, as they were leaving, they met everywhere the most respectful glances. The large room had been cleared, and behind a group of palms, a polonaise was being played. Diederich bowed to Magda with the utmost correctness and conducted her triumphantly to the dance, right after Major Kunze, who was leading. Thus they passed by Guste Daimchen, who was sitting out. She was beside the hunchbacked Fraulein Kühnchen, and she looked after them as if she had been struck. Her look moved Diederich as unpleasantly as that of Herr Lauer in prison.
"Poor Guste!" said Magda. Diederich frowned. "Yes, that is what happens."
"But, as a matter of fact …" Magda smiled with downcast eyes, "happens when?"
"That doesn't matter, my child, it is so now."
"Diedel, you should ask her for a waltz afterwards."
"I can't. A man must remember what he owes to himself."
Soon after he left the room. Young Sprezius, now no longer a lieutenant, was just inviting the hunchbacked Fraulein Kühnchen away from the wall. He was doubtless thinking of her father. Guste Daimchen was left in the lurch. … Diederich took a turn through the ante-rooms, where the elderly gentlemen were playing cards. When he surprised Käthchen Zillich behind a door with an actor, she made a face at him. He reached the refreshment room, and there was Wolfgang Buck, sitting at a little table and sketching in a note-book the mothers who were waiting around the dancing room.
"Very talented," said Diederich. "Have you drawn your future bride yet?"
"In this connection she does not interest me," retorted Buck stolidly.
"I can never make you out," said he disappointedly. "I can always make you out," replied Buck. "I would like to have drawn you that time in court, when you were delivering your great monologue."
"Your speech was enough for me. It was an attempt, though fortunately ineffective, to bring myself and my actions into discredit with the greatest publicity, and to make them contemptible."
Diederich glared, as Buck noticed with astonishment: "Apparently you are offended. And I made such a good speech." He wagged his head and smiled pensively, delighted with himself. "Won't you split a bottle of champagne with me?" he asked.
Diederich began: "Are you exactly the person I ought to—" But he gave in. "The decision of the court established the fact that your accusations were directed, not only against me, but against all right-thinking patriots. So I regard the matter as settled."
"I suppose we'll make it Heidsieck?" said Buck. He insisted on Diederich's clinking glasses with him. "You must admit, my dear Hessling, that nobody ever dealt so thoroughly with you as I did. Now I don't mind telling you that your role in court interested me much more than my own. Afterwards, when I got home, I imitated you in front of the glass."
"My role? You mean, I suppose, my convictions. I know, of course, that you regard the actor as the representative man of to-day."
"I said that in reference to … some one else. But you see how much nearer I have the type to study. If I had not to defend the washerwoman to-morrow, who is accused of having stolen a pair of drawers from Wulckow's, I might perhaps play Hamlet. Prosit!"
"Prosit. You do not need to have any convictions for that!"
"Good Lord, I have convictions. But are they always the same? So you would advise me to go on the stage?" asked Buck. Diederich had opened his mouth to advise him to do so, when Guste entered. Diederich blushed, for Buck's question had made him think of her. Buck remarked pensively: "Meanwhile the pot in which my meal is cooking would boil over, and the food is good." Guste crept up softly from behind, pressed her hands over his eyes, and asked: "Who is that?"—"There she is," replied Buck, giving her a slap.
"You gentlemen are having an interesting talk, I suppose? Shall I leave you?" asked Guste. Diederich hastened to get her a chair, but in reality he would have preferred to be alone with Buck. The feverish brightness of Guste's eyes were not promising. She talked more freely than usual.
"You get on wonderfully together, if you were only not so formal."
"That is mutual respect," said Buck. Diederich was taken aback, and then he made a remark which astonished himself. "The fact is, every time I leave your fiancé I am mad with him, but when we next meet I am glad." He drew himself up. "If I were not already a loyal citizen he would make me one."
"And if I were," said Buck, smiling, "he would cure me of it. That is the charm of it."
But Guste had obviously other cares. She was pale and choking.
"Now I'll tell you something, Wolfgang. Will you bet you can't stand?"
"Mr. Rose, some of your Hennessy!" shouted Buck. While he mixed cognac and champagne, Diederich seized Guste's arm, and as the noise of the dance music grew very loud just then, he whispered entreatingly: "Don't do anything foolish." She laughed evasively. "Dr. Hessling is afraid! He thinks it's a vulgar story, but I find it terribly funny." She laughed loudly. "What do you think? They say your father and my mother … you understand, and consequently we are to … you know!"
Buck moved his head slowly, and then his lips curled. "Well, what about it?" Guste stopped laughing.
"How do you mean? What then?"
"I mean if the Netzig people believe such a thing, it must be a common occurrence amongst them, and therefore it doesn't matter."
"Soft words butter no parsnips," said Guste decisively. Diederich then felt it his duty to enter a protest.
"To err is human, but nobody can defy public opinion with impunity."
"He always thinks he is too good for this world," said Guste. And Diederich: "These are stern times. He who does not refute a charge must believe in it." Then Guste cried, full of painful enthusiasm:
"Dr. Hessling is not like you! He defended me. I have proof, I know it, from Meta Harnisch, because in the end she had to tell me what she knew. He was the only person of them all who took my defence. He, in your place, would let the people know what he thought of them, when they dared to gossip about me!"
Diederich nodded his head in approval, but Buck kept twisting his glass and looking at his reflection in it. Suddenly he put it down.
"How do you know I, too, wouldn't like sometime to give them a piece of my mind—to take one of them, without choosing particularly, for they are all about equally mean and stupid?" As he said this he shut his eyes. Guste shrugged her bare shoulders.
"That's what you say, but they are not so stupid, they know what they want. … The stupider they are the cleverer," she concluded challengingiy, and Diederich nodded ironically. Then Buck looked at him with eyes which suddenly seemed to be those of a madman. His trembling hands convulsively fumbled at his neck; his voice was hoarse. "If I could only—if I only had one of them by the scruff of the neck, and knew that he had started the whole thing, that he embodied in himself all the hateful and evil qualities of the rest; if, if I could get hold of one who was the personification of all that is inhuman and sub-human—!" Diederich turned as pale as a sheet as he sidled from his chair and slowly drew back, step by step. "It's the cognac!" Diederich shouted to her. … But Buck's glance, filled with dreadful malice, in spired real terror, as it wavered between them. He blinked, and then his eyes shone clearer.
"Unfortunately I am accustomed to this mixture," he explained. "It was only to show you what I could do."
Diederich sat down again noisily. "After all, you are nothing but a play-actor," he said with an air of disappointment.
"Do you really think so?" Buck asked and his glance became even brighter. Guste turned up her nose. "Well, I hope you'll continue to enjoy yourselves," she said, preparing to leave them. But Judge Fritzsche had come along, and he bowed to her and also to Buck, and asked if he would allow him to have the pleasure of dancing the cotillion with his fiancee. He was exceedingly polite, almost entreating. Buck frowned and did not answer, but in the meantime Guste had taken Fritzsche's arm.
Buck looked after them, a heavy furrow between his eyebrows, and oblivious of everything. "Yes, indeed," thought Diederich, "it is not pleasant, my friend, to meet a man who has been off on a pleasure trip with your sister, and then he takes your fiancee away from the table, and you can do nothing, for that would only increase the scandal, because your engagement in itself is a scandal.…"
Rousing himself with a start, Buck said: "Do you know it is only now that I really feel as if I'd like to marry Fräulein Daimchen. I regarded the affair as … rather tame, but the inhabitants of Netzig have given it a really piquant flavour."
This effect left Diederich thunderstruck. "If you think so," he managed to ejaculate.
"Why not? You and I, though at opposite poles, are introducing here the advanced tendencies of an epoch of moral freedom. We are stirring things up. The spirit of the times still sneaks about the streets here in carpet slippers."
"We'll put spurs on them," declared Diederich.
"Your health!"
"Here's to you! But they'll be my spurs"—Diederich glared. "Your scepticism and your flabby point of view are out of date. Intellectual weapons"—he breathed heavily—"are no use to-day. National deeds"—he banged his fist on the table—"will win the future!"
To this Buck retorted with a pitying smile: "The future? That's just where you are mixed. National deeds have died out in the course of centuries. What we see, and what we shall still experience, is the spasmodic twitching and the odour of their corpse. It will not sweeten the air."
"From you I did not expect anything better than that you should drag what is most sacred into the dust!"
"Sacred! Unapproachable! Why not call it eternal and have done with it! Except in the realm of the ideal, your nationalism will never, never be seen again. Formerly, it may have been possible, in that dark period of history when you people were not yet born. But now you are here and the world has moved on to its goal. Darkness and hatred amongst nations, that is the end and you cannot avoid it."
"We are living in strenuous times," Diederich declared seriously.
"Not so much strenuous as conscienceless. … I am not sure that the people whose lot was cast in the period of the Thirty Years' War believed in the immutability of their by no means easy circumstances. And I am convinced that the fantastic obstinacy of those whom they overthrew was regarded as unconquerable. Otherwise, there would have been no revolution. Whereabouts, in those periods of history which we can still spiritually enter, is there an age which would have declared itself permanent, and prided itself before eternity on its miserable limitations; which would have superstitiously censured every one who was not wholly identified with it? You are filled with horror rather than hate when confronted by a lack of red-blooded patriotism! But the men without a country are on your tracks. Do you see them there in the ballroom?"
Diederich turned round so suddenly that he spilled his champagne. Had Napoleon Fischer and his comrades forced their way in? … Buck laughed inwardly. "Don't get excited, I mean merely the silent folk on the walls. Why do they look so gay? What gives them the right to flowered paths, light footsteps and harmony? Ah, you friendly ones!" Over the heads of the dancers Buck motioned with his glass. "You friends of humanity, and of every future good, your capacious hearts did not know the sordid selfishness of a national family party. You citizens of the world, return! Even amongst us there are still some who wait for you!"
He emptied his glass and Diederich noticed with contempt that he was weeping. Then he looked very sly. "You, my contemporaries, do not know, I am sure, what sort of a sash the old Mayor is wearing, as he smiles there in the midst of officials and shepherdesses. The colours have faded, and you doubtless think they are yours? But it is the French tricolour. Then the colours were new, and they did not belong to any country, but heralded the universal dawn. To wear them was the best badge of opinion. It was, as you would say, most correct. Prosit!"
Diederich had surreptitiously drawn away his chair and was looking about to see if any one was listening. "You're drunk," he murmured, and in order to save the situation he shouted: "Herr Rose, another bottle!" Thereupon he drew up his chair again and looked most proper.
"You seem to forget that we have had a Bismarck since then!"
"Not only one," said Buck. "On all sides Europe is being driven along this road to national ruin. Let us suppose it could not have been avoided. Better times will come again. But did you follow your Bismarck so long as he was in the right? You allowed yourselves to be dragged on; you quarrelled with him. But now, when you think you can go beyond him, you cling to his powerless shadow! Your method of renewing your national forces is depressingly slow. By the time you have grasped the fact that a great man is amongst you, he has ceased to be great!"
"You will learn to know about him soon enough," Diederich assured him. "Blood and iron are still the most effective remedy! Might before might!" His head became heated at the utterance of this credo. But Buck also became excited. "Might! Might will not allow itself to be carried eternally on the bayonet's point like a skewered sausage. Nowadays the real power is peace. Play your comedy of force. Brag about your imaginary enemies at home and abroad Fortunately, deeds are forbidden to you."
"Forbidden?" Diederich snorted with indignation. "His Majesty has said: We would rather leave our eighteen army corps and forty-two million inhabitants on the field …"
"Than that the German eagle—!" cried Buck impetuously, and then more mildly: "No parliamentary resolutions! The army is our only tower of strength."
Diederich would not be outdone. "You are called upon, in the first place, to defend me against my domestic and foreign enemies."
"To ward off a host of miserable traitors," yelled Buck.
"A gang of people—"
"Diederich concluded the sentence: "Unworthy to bear the name of Germans!"
Then both in chorus: "Shoot down your brothers and relatives!" Some of the dancers, who had come for refreshments, were attracted by the shouting, and fetched their womenfolk to contemplate this spectacle of heroic intoxication. Even the card-players. put their heads in the doorway, and every one was astounded at the sight of Diederich and his partner, rolling in their chairs, clutching the table and hurling strong words at eack other, with glassy eyes and snarling teeth.
"There is one enemy and he is my enemy!"
"There is only one master in my kingdom and I will endure no other!"
"I can be very unpleasant!"
They tried to shout one another down.
"Mistaken humanitarianism."
"Enemies of their own country and of the divine order of the world!"
"They must be exterminated to the last man."
A bottle crushed against the wall.
"I will smash!"
"German dust … from their shoes … glorious days!"
Just then some one with blindfolded eyes glided through the spectators. It was Guste Daimchen who had to find a gentleman this way. She came up behind Diederich and touched him, trying to make him stand up. He stiffened up and repeated threateningly: "Glorious days!" She pulled down the bandage, stared at him anxiously and went to get his sisteps. Buck also saw that it was time to stop. In an unostentatious manner he assisted his friend to get away, but he could not prevent Diederich from turning at the door to the gaping crowd of dancers, and drawing himself up haughtily, though his eyes were too glassy to flash.
"I will smash!"
Then he was taken downstairs and put into the carriage.
When he came into the sitting-room towards midday, with a terrible headache, he was astonished to see Emma march out indignantly. But Magda had only to make a few cautious allusions for him to remember what was the matter. "Did I really do that? Well, I admit there were ladies present. There are more ways than one for a true-born German to show himself. With ladies it is different. … In such cases, of course, one must lose no time in setting the matter to rights in the frankest and most correct fashion."
Although he could hardly see, he knew perfectly well what had to be done: While a two-horse Victoria was being sent for, he put on his frock-coat, white tie and silk hat. Then he handed the coachman the list which Magda had drawn up, and drove off. At each house he asked to see the ladies and disturbed many of them at lunch. Without being quite sure whether he was addressing Frau Harnisch, Frau Daimchen or Frau Tietz, he reeled off a statement in his hoarse voice of "the morning after": "I frankly confess … as a German gentleman, in the presence of ladies … in the fullest and most correct fashion …"
By half-past one he was back, and sat down to lunch with a sigh of relief: "It is all settled."
That afternoon he had a more difficult task before him. He sent for Napoleon Fischer to come up to the house.
"Herr Fischer," he said, offering him a chair, "I am receiving you here, instead of in the office, because our affairs are no concern of Herr Sötbier's. It is a question of politics, I ought to explain."
Napoleon Fischer nodded as if he had already guessed that. He now seemed to be accustomed to these confidential conversations. At Diederich's first nod he at once took a cigar, and he even crossed his legs. Diederich was far less sure of himself; he was breathing hard. Then he decided, with out beating about the bush, to go straight to the point with brutal frankness. That is what Bismarck would have done.
"The fact is I want to get a seat* on the Town Council," he explained, "and for that I will need you."
The machinist glanced up at him. "And I you," he said, "for I also want to be a municipal councillor."
"What! Come now! I was^prepared for most things.…"
"I suppose you had another couple of twenty-mark pieces ready?"—and the proletarian bared his yellow teeth. He no longer concealed his grin and Diederich saw that he was not going to be as easy to deal with in this as in previous matters.
"I may tell you, Doctor/' Napoleon began, "my party is dead sure of one of the two seats. The Liberals will probably get the other. If you want to kick them out, you will need us."
"I see that," said Diederich. "It is true, I have the support of old Buck. But his people are not all perhaps so confiding as to elect me if I went forward as a Liberal. It is safer to come to an understanding with you."
"And I have a very good idea how that can be arranged," declared Napoleon. "Because for a long time I have had my eye on you, wondering whether you would not soon be entering the political arena."
Napoleon began to blow smoke rings, he felt so elated.
"Your trial, Dr. Hessling, and then that business with the Veterans' Association, and so on, that was all excellent as an advertisement. But a politician must always ask: How many votes do I get?" And Napoleon gave him the benefit of his experience. When he referred to the "patriotic gang," Diederich tried to protest, but Napoleon shut him up.
"What do you mean? In my party we have a certain respect for the patriotic gang. It is easier to do business with them than with the Liberals. Soon the middle-class Democrats will all be able to fit into one cab."
"And we'll finish even them," cried Diederich. The allies laughed for joy. Diederich got a bottle of beer.
"But," insisted the Social Democrat, as he stated his terms; a trade union hall, which the town was to help the party to build. … Diederich jumped up from his chair. "And you have the cheek to demand that of a true patriot?"
The other remained cool and ironical. "If we do not help the true patriot to he elected, where will the true patriot be?" In spite of his pleas and threats, Diederich finally had to sign a paper, pledging himself not only to vote for the hall, but to work up the councillors with whom he had influence. After that he bluntly declared the interview at an end and took the beer bottle out of the machinist's hand. But Napoleon Fischer had a twinkle in his eye. Dr. Hessling ought to be thankful that he was dealing with him and not with Rille, the party boss. Rille was trying to get into the running himself and would not have been agreeable to such a compromise. Opinion was divided amongst the party. Diederich therefore would have good reason to do something on behalf of Fischer's candidature in the press where he had influence. "If strangers, like Rille, for example, were to poke their noses into your affairs, Doctor, I am sure you would not like it. Between the two of us it is quite different. We have already turned a few tricks together." With this he left Diederich to his own feelings.
Some days later Emma and Magda were invited to tea at Frau von Wulckow's, and Diederich accompanied them. With their chins in the air the three of them marched along Kaiser Wilhelmstrasse, and Diederich raised his hat very calmly to the gentlemen on the steps of the Freemasons' Lodge, who stared in amazement as he entered the government building. He greeted the sentry with a genial wave of his hand. In the dressing room they met several officers and their wives, to whom the Fraulein Hesslings were already well known. Clicking his spurs, Lieutenant von Brietzen helped Emma off with her coat, and she thanked him over her shoulder like a countess. She nudged Diederich with her foot to draw his attention to the sacred ground on which they were treading. After they had given precedence to Herr von Brietzen on entering the drawing-room, had bowed and scraped ecstatically to the Governor's wife, and had been introduced to everybody—what a task it was, as dangerous as it was honourable, to sit on a little chair, squeezed in amongst the ladies, to balance one's teacup while passing round plates, and to offer the cakes with a respectful smile I And while eating it was necessary to say something touching about the successful performance of the "Secret Countess," and a word of appropriate recognition for the far-seeing administrative ability of the Governor, and something impressive about revolution and patriotism, and into the bargain, to feed the Wulckow's dog which was begging! Here there could be no question of the unpretentious gatherings in the Ratskeller and of the Veterans' Association. One had to gaze with a simulated smile into the pale blue eyes of Captain von Köckevitz, whose bald head was white, but whose face from the middle of his forehead down was a fiery red, and who talked about the training ground. And if one were already breaking into a sweat from anxiety lest the question be raised whether one had served in the army, there came the unexpected relief, that the lady at one's side, who combed her blond, white hair flat over the top of her head, and whose nose was freckled, began to talk about horses. … This time Emma saved Diederich with the aid of Herr von Brietzen, with jyhom she seemed to be on very familiar terms. Emma joined easily in the conversation about horses, used technical terms, and even went so far as to draw on her imagination about cross-country rides which she said she had taken on the estate of an aunt. When the lieutenant offered to go out riding with her, she pleaded poor Frau Hessling as an excuse, as she would not allow it. Diederich could hardly recognize Emma. Her uncanny talents left Magda altogether in the shade, although the latter had succeeded in capturing a husband. As on the occasion when he returned from the "Green Angel," Diederich reflected uneasily on the unaccountable ways which, when you were out of sight, a girl would … Then he noticed that he had not been listening to a question of Frau von Wulckow's, and that every one had stopped talking, so that he might reply. He gazed around him helplessly, looking for assistance, but his eyes met only the gaze of a forbidding portrait of a man, pale and unbending, in a red hussar's uniform, with his hand on his hip, his moustaches curling up to his eyes, who glared coldly over his shoulder! Diederich was trembling and nearly choked himself with his tea. Herr von Brietzen had to clap him on the back.
Now a lady who had previously done nothing but eat was going to sing. The guests drew together in the music room. Diederich stood at the door and was glancing surreptitiously at his watch when the Governor's wife gave a little cough behind him. "I know, my dear Dr. Hessling, that you cannot sacrifice your valuable time on our frivolous, our all-too-frivolous conversation. My husband is expecting you, come along." With her finger to her lips she preceded him along a passage and through an empty ante-room. She knocked very gently. As there was no reply, she looked anxiously at Diederich, who also felt uncomfortable. "Otto, dearest," she cried, nestling tenderly against the closed door. After they had listened for a while the terrible bass voice was heard inside. "Dearest Otto is not here! Tell those idiots to drink their tea slop without him!"—"He is so dreadfully busy," whispered Frau von Wulckow, turning a little paler. "His health is being undermined by the subversive elements. … Now, unfortunately, I must return to my guests, but the servant will announce you." And she disappeared. Diederich waited in vain many long minutes for the servant. Then the dog came along, went past Diederich full of immense contempt and scratched at the door. Immediately the voice within shouted: "Schnaps, come in here!"—Whereupon the great beast raised the latch. As it forgot to shut the door again Diederich took the liberty of creeping in behind the dog. Herr von Wulckow was sitting at his writing table, in a cloud of smoke, with his enormous back turned towards the intruder.
"Good day, sir," saicfr Diederich, with an awkward bow. "Hello, have you learnt to babble, too, Schnaps?" asked Wulckow, without looking round. He folded up a document, and lit a fresh cigar. "Here it comes," thought Diederich, but Wulckow began to write something else. Only the dog took any notice of Diederich, It obviously found the visitor even more out of place here and its contempt turned to hostility. Showing its teeth it sniffed at Diederich's trousers, and almost went further than mere sniffing. Diederich hopped as quietly as possible from one leg to the other, and the dog growled threateningly but softly, knowing well that otherwise its master would intervene. Finally Diederich succeeded in interposing a chair between himself and his enemy, and clinging to this he twisted about, now quickly, now slowly, always on the lookout for Schnaps's flank attacks. Once he noticed Wulckow turning his head a little and he fancied he saw him grin. At length the dog grew tired of the game, and went to its master to be stroked. Encamped near Wulckow's chair, it measured Diederich with the keen eyes of a Mnter, as he mopped up his perspiration.
"Well, my little Doctor," said Herr von Wulckow, turning round his chair, "what is the matter with you? You are becoming a real statesman. Won't you take this seat of honour?"
"If I may be so bold," stammered Diederich. "I have been able to do something for the national cause."
Wulckow blew an enormous volume of smoke into his face, then he came quite close to him with his hot-blooded, cynical eyes beneath their Oriental lids. "To start with, you have succeeded in getting into the Town Council. Well, we won't go into that. At all events, it will help you, for I understand your business is in a pretty bad way." Wulckow laughed boisterously as Diederich winced. "That's all right. You are the man for me. What do you think I have been writing here?" The huge sheet was hidden by the paper-weight which he placed upon it. "I have asked the minister for a little dicky bird for a certain Dr. Hessling, in recognition of his services on behalf of loyal opinion in Netzig. … I am sure you never thought I could be as nice as that," he added, for Diederich kept bowing from his chair, looking dazzled and seized with sudden weakness. "I can hardly say," he murmured, "… my modest services …"
"It is the first step that counts," said Wulckow. "This is only a little encouragement. Your attitude in the Lauer trial was pretty good. Your call for cheers for the Emperor during the debate at the Council set the anti-monarchical press by the ears. In three different places around the country-side complaints of lèse-majesté have been raised on the head of it. We must, therefore, show you some mark of our appreciation."
Diederich cried: "My highest reward is the fact that the 'Lokal-Anzeiger' brought my humble name to the attention of His Gracious Majesty himself!"
"Well, now, won't you take a cigar?" Wulckow concluded, and Diederich understood that they were now coming to business. Already a doubt had arisen in the midst of his elation as to whether Wulckow's condescension had not some special motive. He said, as a feeler:
"The town, I am pretty sure will sanction its quota for the line to Ratzenhausen."
Wulckow thrust his head forward. "So much the better for you. Otherwise we have a much more inexpensive scheme, in which Netzig will not be involved at all. So see that those people learn sense. On that condition you will have the privilege of furnishing your light to the Quitzin estates."
"The Council doesn't want that." Diederich pleaded with his hands for consideration. "The town loses on the transaction, and Herr von Quitzin pays no taxes to us. … But now I am a municipal councillor as well as a loyal patriot. …"
"I must insist on that, otherwise my cousin, Herr von Quitzin, will simply instal his own electric plant. He can get that cheap, as you may imagine; two cabinet ministers come to his place for the hunting. Then he will undersell you here in Netzig itself."
Diederich straightened himself up. "Sir, I am determined, I am determined, despite all hostile attacks, to hold aloft the national banner in Netzig." Then, in softer tones :"In any case we can get rid of one enemy, indeed a particularly bad one, old Kliising in Gausenfeld."
"That fellow?" Wulckow smiled contemptuously. "He eats out of my hand. He supplies paper to the official newspapers of the district." "Do you know whether he does not supply even more to the bad papers? On that score, with all due respect, I am probably better informed."
"The 'Netziger Journal' has become more reliable from the national standpoint."
"That is true"—Diederich nodded impressively—"since the day when old Klüsing allowed me to tender for part of the paper supply. Gausenfeld was supposed to be too full of orders. Of course, he was really afraid that I would become interested in a rival sheet on the national side. And perhaps he was also afraid"—a significant pause—"that the Governor might prefer to order the paper for the official press from a patriotic firm."
"So you now supply the 'Netziger Journal'?"
"Never will I so betray my patriotic convictions as to supply a paper so long as there is Liberal money behind it."
"Hm. Very good." Wulckow rested his hands on his thighs. "You needn't say anything more. You want the whole contract for the 'Netziger Journal.' You also want the official organs of the district. Probably also the supplies of paper for government use. Anything else?".
To which Diederich replied in practical tones:
"I, sir, am not like Klüsing. I have no truck with revolution. If you, sir, as President of the Bible Society, will give me your support, I may say that it can only be to the advantage of the national cause."
"Hm. Very good," repeated Wulckow, blinking. Diederich played his trump card.
"Under Klüsing, sir, Gausenfeld is a breeding ground of revolution. Amongst his eight hundred workmen there is not one who ever votes for any one but a Social Democrat."
"Well, and what about your men?"
Diederich struck his chest. "God is my witness that I would rather shut the whole shop to-day, and go into poverty with my family, than keep one single man in my employment whom I knew to be unpatriotic."
"Most excellent sentiments," said Wulckow. Diederich looked at him with candid eyes. "I only take people who have been in the army. Forty of them served in the war. I no longer employ young men since that affair with the workman whom the sentry laid low on the field of honour, as His Majesty was pleased to state, after the fellow and his girl, behind my rags—"
Wulckow interrupted: "That's your funeral, my little man."
Diederich did not allow his plan to be spoiled. "There shall be no revolution hatched in my rags. In yours, I mean in politics, it is different. There we can use the revolution so that out of the rags of Liberalism, white patriotic paper may come." He looked exceedingly profound, but Wulckow did not seem impressed. His smile was terrible.
"My boy, I wasn't born yesterday. Let me hear what you have worked out with your machinist."
When he saw Diederich giving ground, Wulckow continued: "He is also one of your old soldiers, Mr. Councillor?"
Diederich gulped, but saw there was no use beating any more about the bush. He spoke with determination at first, but his voice became quick and nervous. "The man wants to go into the Reichstag, and from the national standpoint he is better than Heuteufel. In the first place, many Liberals will turn patriotic out of fear, and in the second, if Napoleon Fischer is elected, we shall get a monument to Emperor William in Netzig. I have it in writing."
He spread out the paper in front of the Governor. Wulckow read it, then he stood up, kicked away his chair, and walked up and down the room, smoking like a chimney. "So Kühlemann snuffs out, and with his half million the town will build, not an Infant Asylum, but a monument to Emperor William." He stood still. "Mind you this, my friend, in your own interest. If Netzig afterwards has a Social Democrat in the Reichstag, but no William the Great, then I'll teach you a lesson. I'll smash you to pulp. I'll break you so small that they won't even admit you to the Infant Asylum!"
Diederich and his chair had both retreated against the wall. "Everything I am, my whole future, is staked on the national cause. The uncertainty of human affairs may affect me.…"
"Then, God help you!"
"Suppose Kuhlemann again recovers from stone in the kidneys?"
"You are responsible! My reputation is also at stake!" Wulckow dropped heavily into his chair, and smoked furiously. When the clouds had dispersed he had cheered up again. "What I told you the night of the play is certain. This parliament will not last long. Get to work in the town here in advance. Help me against Buck and I'll help you against Klüsing."
Wulckow's smile filled Diederich with a great wave of hope. He could not contain himself. "If you would let him know on the quiet that you contemplated taking away the contracts from him! He will not make a row about it, you need not fear, but he will take measures accordingly. Perhaps he would negotiate—"
"With his successor," Wulckow concluded. Then it was Diederich's turn to jump up and walk up and down the room. "If you only knew, sir. … Gausenfeld is a machine of a thousand horse-power, so to speak, and there it stands rusting away, because the current is lacking, I mean, the modern, far-seeing mind!"
"You have that, apparently," insinuated Wulckow. "In the service of the national cause," Diederich assured him. He descended from the clouds. "The Kaiser Wilhelm Monument Committee will be most happy, if we succeed in inducing you to have the kindness to signify your esteemed interest by accepting the position of honorary chairman."
"Done!" said Wulckow.
"The Committee will duly appreciate the disinterested services of its honorary chairman."
"Be a little more explicit!" There was an ominous note in Wulckow's voice, but in his excitement Diederich failed to notice it.
"This idea has already given rise to certain discussions in committee. There is a desire to erect the monument on the most frequented site, and to surround it with a public park, so that the indissoluble bond between the ruler and his people may be prominently displayed. For that reason we thought of rather large pieces of property in the centre of the town, the adjoining houses are also available. It is in Meisestrasse."
"Oh, really? Meisestrasse." Wulckow's frown betokened a storm. Diederich was frightened, but he could not back out now.
"It occurred to us that, before the town looks into the matter more closely, we should make sure of the property in question, and thus anticipate undesirable speculations. Our honorary chairman, of course, would have the first right.…"
At this word Diederich retreated and the storm broke. "Sir! What do you take me for? Am I your business agent? This is intolerable; it is unbelievable! A damned tradesman has the cheek to presume that the representative of His Majesty the King will take a hand in his dirty deals!"
"You are guilty of libelling a government official, sir!" Wulckow screamed, and Diederich, who was feeling behind his back for the table, could only wonder whether the dog or his master would be the first to seize him by the throat. His terrified glance strayed until it was held by a pale face on the wall which glared down threateningly at him. Now authority had caught him by the throat! He had dared to treat with authority on equal footing. That had proved his undoing. It broke upon him with all the terror of a cataclysm. … The door behind the writing table opened and some one in a police uniform entered. The demoralised Diederich was no longer capable of astonishment. The presence of the uniform suggested another fearful thought to Wulckow. "I could have you arrested this moment, you contemptible upstart, for attempted bribery of an official, bribery of the authorities, the highest authority in the district! I'll bring you to jail and ruin you for life!"
This last judgment was not far from having the same effect upon the gentleman from the police as upon Diederich. He laid the document which he had brought upon the table and disappeared. For the rest, Wulckow also turned around suddenly and lit his cigar again. Diederich no longer existed for him. Schnaps also left him alone, as if he had been made of air. Then Diederich ventured to fold his hands.
"Sir," he whispered shakily, "allow me, sir, to assure you; there is, if I may say so, a regrettable misunderstanding. With my well-known patriotic sentiments I would never … How could I?"
He waited, but nobody took any notice of him.
"If I were thinking of my own advantage," he resumed, a little more confidently, "instead of always having the national interest in view, I would not be here to-day, but at Herr Buck's. Herr Buck, I ought to tell you, proposed that I should sell my property to the town for the Liberal Infant Asylum. But I repelled the suggestion with indignation, and came straight to you. Better, I said, the Monument to Emperor William the Great in the heart, than the Infant Asylum in the pocket, said I. I say it now with no uncertain voice!"
As Diederich actually did raise his voice, Wulckow turned to him. "Are you still here?" he asked. And Diederich again in mortal fear: "Sir.…"
"What are you waiting for? I do not know you at all. Have never had anything to do with you."
"Sir, in the national interest—"
"I can have no dealings with land sharks. Sell your plot of ground and good luck to you. Afterwards we can do business."
Diederich turned pale and felt as if he were being crushed against the wall. "In that case, do our conditions still hold good? The decoration? The hint to Klüsing? The honorary chairmanship?"
Wulckow made a wry face. "Well and good. But you must sell at once."
Diederich gasped for breath. "I will make the sacrifice," he declared. "The noblest possession of a loyal patriot, my fidelity to the Emperor, must be placed beyond suspicion."
"All right, then," said Wulckow, as Diederich withdrew, proud of his exit, though disturbed by the discovery that the Governor did not view him as an ally with any greater favour than he viewed his machinist.
In the drawing-room he found Emma and Magda all alone, turning over the pages of a magnificent looking volume. The visitors had all gone and Frau von Wulckow had left them, because she had to dress for a party given by the wife of Colonel von Haffke. "My interview with the Governor passed off quite satisfactorily for both of us," Diederich remarked. And when they were in the street, he added: "There you can see what it means when two honourable men negotiate. In the business world to-day that is unknown, there are so many Jews."
Emma was also greatly excited, and announced that she would take riding lessons. "If I give you the money," said Deiderich, but only for form's sake, for he was proud of Emma. "Has Lieutenant von Brietzen no sisters?" he asked. "You ought to make their acquaintance and get invitations to Frau von Haffke's next party." The colonel just passed at that moment. Diederich stared after him for a long time. "I know," he said, "one shouldn't look back, but that represents, after all, what is highest. It draws you irresistibly."This understanding with Wulckow, however, had only in creased his troubles. The definite obligation to sell his house promised nothing more in return than hopes and prospects: vague prospects and hopes that were too bold. … It was freezing. On Sunday Diederich went to the park, where it was already growing dark, and on a lonely path he met Wolfgang Buck.
"I have made up my mind," Buck declared. "I am going on the stage."
"And what about your social position? And your marriage?"
"I have tried my best, but the theatre is preferable. There is less comedy, you know, people are more genuine. The women are also more beautiful."
"That is not a proper attitude," replied Diederich. But Buck was in earnest. "I must say the rumour about Guste and me amused me. On the other hand, silly as it is, the rumour exists. The girl is suffering under it and I cannot compromise her any longer."
Diederich gave him a look of scorn, for he had the impression that Buck was using the rumour as a pretext to escape. "No doubt," he said sternly. "You understand what you are about. Now, of course, it will not be easy for her to find another. It will take a man of the finest chivalry to marry her."
Buck admitted this. "It would be a special satisfaction," he said significantly, "to a really big, modern man to raise a girl up to his own level, under such circumstances, and to take her part. Here, where there is also money, nobility of mind would doubtless end by carrying the day. Remember the ordeal in Lohengrin."
"How do you mean, Lohengrin?"
Buck returned no answer to this. As they had reached the Saxon Gate he became uneasy. "Will you come in with me?" he asked. "In where?"—"Just here, 77 Schweinichenstrasse. I must tell her. Perhaps you could …" Then Diederich gave a whistle.
"You are really … Have you said nothing to her yet? You tell it all round the town first. That's your affair, my dear fellow, but leave me out of it. I am not in the habit of breaking off the engagements of other men's fiancées."
"Make an exception," begged Buck. "I cannot stand scenes."
"I have principles," said Diederich. Buck turned into the street.
"You need not say anything. You need only play a silent part, as moral support."
"Moral?" Diederich queried.
"As the spokesman, so to speak, of the fatal rumour."
"What does that mean?"
"I am only joking. Come on. Here we are."
Feeling touched by Buck's last allusion, Diederich accompanied him without another word.
Frau Daimchen was out, and Guste sent word to them to wait. Buck went to find out what was keeping her. Finally she came, but she was alone. "Wasn't Wolfgang here, too?" she asked.
Buck had decamped!
"I don't understand this," said Diederich. "He had something very urgent to tell you."
Guste blushed. Diederich turned towards the door. "Then I had better be going."
"What on earth did he want?" she inquired. "It doesn't often happen that he wants anything. And why. did he bring you with him?"
"I don't understand that either. In fact, I may say that I decidedly object to his bringing witnesses in such a matter. It is not my fault. Good-bye."
The more embarrassed his manner became the more insistent was she.
"I must decline," he confessed finally, "to burn my fingers in the affairs of a third person, especially when the third party skedaddles and evades his most earnest obligations."
With eyes wide open Guste seemed to watch each word singly as it fell from Diederich's lips. When the last was uttered she remained motionless for a moment, and then buried her face in her hands. She was sobbing and he could see her swollen cheeks and the tears trickling between her fingers. She had no handkerchief, and Diederich affected by her sorrow, lent her his. "After all," said he, "he is not such a great loss." But then Guste arose in her wrath. "You dare say that! It was you who was attacking him. That he should send just you here seems to be more than strange."
"Kindly explain what you mean," demanded Diederich. "You must have known just as well as I, my dear young lady, what to expect from the gentleman in question. Where a man's opinions are feeble, everything else in him is equally so."
As she looked him up and down mockingly, he continued, all the more severely: "I told you beforehand exactly what would happen."
"Because you wanted it to happen," she replied venomously. And Diederich ironically: "He himself appointed me to keep his pot stirred. And if the pot had not been wrapped in a cloth, he would long since have let it boil over."
Then it burst from Guste, in spite of herself: "If you only knew. It is that which I cannot pardon in him, that everything was indifferent to him, even my money!"
Diederich was staggered. "One shouldn't have anything to do with such people," he said primly. "They have no backbone, and are as slippery as eels." He shook his head impressively. "The person who is indifferent to money does not understand life."
She gave a feeble laugh. "In that case, you understand it wonderfully."
"Let us hope so," he replied. She came closer to him and smiled at him through her tears.
"Well, you have been right all along. What am I to do now?" She turned down the corners of her mouth. "Anyway, I never loved him. I was only waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him. Now he shows what a cad he is by going off himself! … Let us get on without him," she added with an alluring glance. But Diederich merely took back his handkerchief, and seemed to have no wish for anything more.
"You are no doubt referring to the position in which I have been placed."
He declined to be drawn. "I did not say anything." Guste complained softly: "If people say dreadful things about me I cannot help it."
"Neither can I."
Guste bowed her head "Ah, yes, I suppose I shall have to give in. A person like me does not deserve to be taken by a really fine man with a serious view of life." As she said this she peeped at him from under her eyelashes to see the effect. Diederich snorted. "It is possible—" He began and he stopped. Guste held her breath. "Let us suppose," he said with sharp emphasis, "that some one, on the contrary, takes a most earnest view of life, sees things in a large modern fashion, is as fully conscious of his responsibilities to himself and his future children as to his King and country, and undertakes to protect the defenceless woman and to raise her up to his own level."
Guste's expression had become more and more solemn. She pressed her palms together, and looked at him, with her head on one side, fervently entreating him. This did not seem to be enough—he obviously demanded something quite unusual, so Guste fell plump upon her knees—then Diederich graciously approached her. "So shall it be," he said, his eyes flashing.
At this point Frau Daimchen entered. "Hello," she said, "what has happened?" With great presence of mind Guste replied: "Oh, mother, we are looking for my ring." Whereupon Frau Daimchen also got down on the ground. Diederich did not wish to be behind-hand. After they had all crawled about for a while in silence, Guste cried: "Here it is!" She stood up and said in resolute tones:
"In case you don't know, mother, I have changed my mind." Frau Daimchen, still out of breath, did not understand at first. Guste and Diederich united their efforts in making the matter clear to her. In the end she admitted that she herself had thought the same thing because of the way people were talking: "In any case, Wolfgang was too lackadaisical, except when he lad had something to drink. The family was the only thing, on the other hand, the Hesslings don't amount to much."
Diederich said she would see, and announced that nothing could be taken as settled until the practical side of the question had been discussed. They had to produce documentary evidence of Guste's dowry, and then he insisted upon joint-ownership of the property—then, whatever he did with the money afterwards, nobody would interfere! Every time they opposed him he took hold of the door handle, and each time Guste remonstrated with her mother in a beseeching whisper: "Do you want the whole town to be wagging their jaws to-morrow because I have got rid of one man and lost the other?"
When everything was settled Diederich became genial. He stayed to supper with the ladies, and without waiting for their answer, he was on the point of sending the servant for champagne to celebrate the engagement. Frau Daimchen was offended at this, for of course she had some in the house, the officers who came to see them expected it. "The truth is you have more luck than cunning, for Lieutenant von Brietzen could also have had Guste." At this Diederich laughed good-humouredly. Things were going swimmingly. He had the money and Emma had Lieutenant von Brietzen! … They grew very jolly. After the second bottle the happy couple were rolling up against one another on their chairs, their legs were intertwined up to the knee, and Diederich's hands were busy caressing Guste. Frau Daimchen sat twiddling her thumbs. Suddenly a loud report was heard for which Diederich at once accepted full responsibility, saying that it was the custom in aristocratic circles, that he was a frequent guest of the Wulckows.
What a surprise when Netzig learnt the strange turn the affair had taken. To the inquiries of his congratulating friends Diederich replied that he was quite undecided what he would do with his wife's million and a half. Perhaps he would move to Berlin, where there was more scope for big undertakings. In any case he thought he would sell his factory as opportunity offered. "The paper industry is going through a crisis anyhow; this little piece of property buried in the middle of Netzig is quite inadequate to my circumstances."
At home there was joy and sunshine. The girls received increased pocket-money, and Diederich allowed his mother as many embraces and tender scenes as her heart desired. He even accepted her blessing with good grace. Every time Guste came it was in the part of a good fairy, with her arms full of flowers, sweets and silver bags. By her side it seemed to Diederich he was walking along a flower-strewn path. The heavenly days passed quickly with purchases, champagne breakfasts and visits by the engaged couple, who sat inside the carriage busily absorbed in one another, while the box seat was occupied by a footman hired for the occasion.
Then came the wedding day; for they were both in a hurry, Guste because of the people, Diederich for political reasons. In prder to make a bigger splash it had been arranged that Magda and Kienast should be married on the same day. Kienast had arrived and Diederich kept looking at him uneasily, for he had shaved his beard, turned up the points of his moustache and already learnt to flash his eyes. In the negotiations over Magda's share in the business he displayed a truly terrifying commercial sense. Not without anxiety for the ultimate issue of the whole thing, though determined to fulfil his duty to himself without flinching, Diederich was now more constantly absorbed in his account books. … Even on his wedding morning he was sitting in his office, in full dress, when a visiting card was presented: Karnauke, First Lieutenant, Retired. "What on earth does he want, Sötbier?" The old book keeper did not know either. "Well, it doesn't matter. I can't refuse to see an officer," and Diederich went himself to the door.
In the doorway, however, he met a gentleman who held him self unusually stiffly, in a green summer overcoat, which was dripping and was buttoned tightly around his neck. A pool of water formed at once underneath his patent leather shoes, and the rain fell from his green Tyrolese hat, which he had not removed, strange to say. "First let us get dried a bit," said the gentleman, moving towards the stove, before Diederich could speak. "For sale, what? Queer street, what?" At first Diederich did not grasp his meaning; then he glanced uneasily at Sötbier. The old fellow had resumed his letter. "You must have made a mistake in the number of the house," said Diederich in a conciliatory tone, but it was no use.
"Bosh, I know exactly. No nonsense. Superior orders. Sell and keep your mouth shut, or God help you."
This speech was too obvious. Diederich could no longer ignore the fact that, in spite of his military past, the incredible stiffness of the gentleman's bearing was not natural, and that his eyes were glassy. Just as Diederich came to this conclusion the gentleman took his little green hat and shook the water out of it onto Diederich's dress shirt front. This drew a protest which the gentleman took in very bad part. "I am at your disposal," he snarled. "Herren von Quitzin and von Wulckow will call upon you as my seconds." He blinked strenuously at these words, and Diederich, upon whom an awful suspicion was dawning, forgot his anger, his sole thought being to get the first lieutenant out through the door. "We'll talk outside," he whispered to him, and to Sotbier, on the other side: "The man is helplessly drunk. I'll have to see how I can get rid of him." But Sötbier's lips were pressed together, his brow wrinkled, and this time he did not return to his letter.
The gentleman went straight out into the rain; Diederich following him. "No offence meant; we can talk things over." It was not until he was wet through that he succeeded in piloting the gentleman back into the house. Through the empty machine room the first lieutenant yelled: "A glass of brandy; I'll buy everything, including the brandy!" Although the workmen had the day off, on account of the wedding, Diederich looked anxiously around. He opened the little room where the sacks of chlorine were kept, and got the gentleman inside With a desperate shove. The stench was awful. The gentleman sniffed several times, and then said: "My name is Karnauke. Why do you stink so?"
"Who is backing you?" asked Diederich. This also irritated the gentleman. "What do you mean to insinuate? … Oh, I see. I'll buy the whole show." Following Diederich's glance he gazed at his dripping, light summer coat, "Temporarily embarrassed," he growled. "Am acting for honourable parties. Genuine offer."
"How much are you commissioned to offer?"
"A hundred and twenty for the lot."
Diederich grew indignant and angry by turns. The land alone was worth two hundred thousand. The lieutenant insisted: "A hundred and twenty for the lot."
"Nothing doing"—Diederich made an incautious move towards the door, whereupon the gentleman tackled him seriously. Diederich had to struggle, fell onto a sack of chlorine, and the other on top of him. "Get up," gasped Diederich, "we'll be bleached here." The lieutenant howled aloud as if it already burnt through his clothes—then he suddenly resumed his stiff demeanour. He blinked. "Governor von Wulckow will cut up nasty; if you don't sell, hell do nothing for you. Cousin Quitzin is extending his property hereabouts. He's counting for a certain on your meeting his wishes. A hundred and twenty for the lot." Diederich turned whiter than if he had remained in the chlorine, and tried again: "One hundred and fifty"—but his voice failed him. It was too much for an honourable man! Wulckow insisting upon his official honour, as incorruptible as the Last Judgment! … Disconsolately he once again looked at the figure of this Karnauke, First Lieutenant, Retired. That was the man Wulckow sent; he put himself in the hands of such a person! Couldn't they recently have negotiated the deal between themselves, with all due precautions and with mutual respect? But these Junkers could only spring at your throat: they could not yet understand that business is business. "Just go on ahead to the notary's," whispered Diederich, "I'll he right after you." He showed him out, but when he himself was on the point of leaving, old Sötbier was standing there, with his lips still pursed. "What do you want?" Diederich was exhausted.
"Young master," began the old man in a hollow voice. "I can no longer be responsible for what you are now planning to do."
"You're not asked to be." Diederich recovered his composure. "I am the best judge of what I am doing." The old man raised his hands in dismay.
"You do not know, Master Diederich! It is the life work of your lamented father and myself that I am defending. Because we built up the business with industry and hard work, you have become big. If you buy expensive machinery at one time and decline contracts the next, that is a zig-zag course which will bring the business to ruin. And now you are selling the old house."
"You were listening at the keyhole. If anything happens without you, you still cannot stand the idea. Mind you don't catch cold here," Diederich sneered.
"You must not sell it!" moaned Sötbier. "I cannot look on and see the son and heir of my old master undermining the solid foundations of the firm and playing for heavy stakes."
Diederich gave him a pitying look. "In your time, Sötbier, big ideas were unknown. Nowadays people take risks. Push is the main thing. Later you will see what was the advantage in my selling the house."
"Yes, you will only see that later, too. Perhaps when you are bankrupt, or when your brother-in-law, Herr Kienast, brings a lawsuit against you. You have manipulated certain things to the prejudice of your sisters and your mother! If I were to tell Herr Kienast certain things—only I have a sense of family piety, I could get you into trouble!"
The old man was beside himself. He was screaming and there were tears of passion on his red eyelids. Diederich went up to him and held his clenched fist under his nose: "Just you try it! I will simply prove that you have been robbing the firm and always did. Do you imagine I haven't taken precautions?"
The old man also raised his trembling fist. They fumed at one another. Sotbier's bloodshot eyes were rolling. Diederich glared. Then the old fellow drew back. "No, this cannot happen. I was always a faithful servant of the old master. My conscience commands me to give my faithful services to his successors as long as possible."
"That would suit you very well," said Diederich harshly and coldly. "Consider yourself lucky that I don't fire you on the spot. You may send in your resignation, it is accepted." And he marched off.
At the notary's he asked that the purchaser in the agreement of sale be described as "unknown." Karnauke grinned. "Unknown is good. Don't we know Herr von Quitzin?" At this the notary also smiled. "I see," said he, "that Herr von Quitzin is spreading out. For a long time he owned in Meisestrasse only the little Cock tavern. But he is also in negotiations for the two pieces of property behind yours, Dr. Hessling. Then he will be on the borders of the park and will have room for immense buildings."
Diederich began to tremble again. In a whisper he begged the notary to be discreet as long as possible. Then he said good-bye, as he had no time to lose. "I know," said the first lieutenant holding him fast. "Day of joy. Luncheon at the Hotel Reichshof. I'm ready." He opened his green overcoat and pointed to his crumpled dress-suit. Diederich looked at him in horror, tried to put him off, but the lieutenant again threatened him with his backers.
The bride had been waiting for a long time, and the two mothers were drying their tears amidst the knowing smiles of the other ladies present. This bridegroom had also jumped the traces! Magda and Kienast were furious, and messengers were running between Schweinichenstrasse and Meisestrasse. … At last! Diederich came, though he was wearing his old dresssuit. He did not even condescend to explain. At the civil ceremony and in the church he was absent-minded. On all sides it was said that no blessing could rest upon a marriage consummated under such circumstances. Pastor Zillich even mentioned in his discourse that earthly possessions did not endure. His disappointment was comprehensible. Käthchen did not come at all.
At the wedding luncheon Diederich sat in silence, obviously busied with other things. He even forgot to eat and stared into space. First Lieutenant Karnauke alone had the faculty of arousing his attention. The lieutenant admittedly did his best. No sooner had the soup been removed than he proposed a toast to the bride, making allusions which were excessive in proportion to the amount of wine the rest of the company had drunk. Diederich was more disturbed by certain references of Karnauke's, which were accompanied by winks in his direction and which unfortunately sounded suspicious to Kienast. The moment arrived which Diederich had foreseen with beat ing heart. Kienast stood up and asked him for a word in private. … Just then the first lieutenant tapped energetically on his glass, and jumped up stiffly from his seat. The considerable noise of the party was hushed. A blue ribbon could be seen hanging from Karnauke's pointed fingers, and beneath it a cross, whose gold rim sparkled. … Ah, what an uproar and congratulations! Diederich stretched out his two hands, an ineffable joy flowed from his heart to his throat, and he began to speak involuntarily, before he knew what he was say ing: "His Majesty … unprecedented graciousness … modest services … unshakable loyalty." He bowed and scraped, and as Karnauke handed him the cross, he laid his hands on his heart, closed his eyes and sank back, as if another stood before him, the Donor himself. Basking in the royal approval Diederich felt that salvation and victory were his. Wulckow had kept his pact. Authority kept its pact with Diederich! The Order of the Crown, fourth class, glittered. It was an event, foreshadowing the William the Great monument and Gausenfeld, business and glory!
It was time to break up. Kienast, though moved and impressed, succeeded in getting a few words from Diederich of general significance, about the glorious days which he would enjoy, and the great things which were in store for him and the whole family—and then Diederich was off with Guste.
They got into a first-class carriage. He gave the porter three marks and pulled down the blinds. Carried on the wings of happiness, his desire for action suffered no relaxation. Guste fcould never have expected so amorous a temperament. "You are not like Lohengrin," she said. As she swooned away and closed her eyes, Diederich got up again. Like a man of iron he stood before her, his order hanging on his breast; he glittered like steel. "Before we go any further," he said in martial tones, "let us think of His Majesty, our Gracious Emperor. We must keep before us the higher aim of doing honour to His Majesty, and of giving him capable soldiers." "Oh!" cried Guste, carried away into loftier splendours by the sparkling ornament on his breast, "Is it … really … you … my Diederich!"…