That evening, in the mess-house, the officers, both his seniors in rank and those of his own age, vied with each other in pleasant speeches. But it ended just as it had done a year before; when all had greeted him, he was left standing alone in the doorway of the reading-room.
His only friend, Güntz, was still in Berlin, and the officers chatted together in the other rooms of the mess-house, standing in groups which in almost every case denoted circles of friends. There was hardly any change in the composition of these circles, which was usually due to similar length of service, but in certain cases they were held together by some other bond. There was the Keyl-Möller group of two senior-lieutenants and a lieutenant, who were brothers-in-law in a double sense, two Keyls having married two Fräulein Möllers, and a Möller a Fräulein Keyl. There was also the trio of musical officers, one of whom sang and played the violin and also the French horn, while the second was an excellent pianist, and the third only whistled, but in a most artistic manner. Then, finally, there was the philosophic group, to which little Lieutenant Dr. von Fröben gave the tone. He had taken his doctor's degree in jurisprudence at Heidelberg, and had recently become an officer, as during his year of military service he had lost all taste for legal science. He bore his academic honours with that dignity which often accompanies the unusual; he was considered extremely up-to-date, and at times rather extravagant in his opinions. Among his friends were two officers still very young, one of whom was always reading Prevost and Maupassant; and the other blushingly acknowledged himself to be the author of an ode, printed in a daily newspaper, welcoming the troops just returned from China, among whom had been Captain Madelung of the regiment.
Everything at the mess-house seemed to be just as of old; it seemed to Reimers as if he had not been away for a day. He looked around him: all were as before, the elder men, with thick moustaches and hair growing thin in places, with the cares of a future command already on the brow; those of his own age, easy-going and assuming nonchalant airs; and the youngest of all very spick and span and extremely correct. Just as of old the three brothers-in-law stood close together (two of them had in the meantime become fathers, and the wife of Keyl II.,nêeMöller, was in an interesting condition), and chatted about their various uncles and aunts. As of yore, the singing, violin and horn-playing Manitius was at the piano, turning over the leaves of a pianoforte arrangement of the "Trompeter von Säkkingen." And again, as of old, the little red-haired Dr. von Fröben held forth learnedly to every one who would listen. There were only two new men who had entered the regiment during his illness, and had just got their commissions as lieutenants. One of them, Landsberg, had introduced himself to Reimers as belonging to his battery.
Reimers was not much taken with him. This youth, with his somewhat vacant expression, hair glossy with pomade, and single eye-glass squeezed into his eye, was too artificial and dandified to suit his taste. But he seemed somehow to be an object of interest to Landsberg, though the latter was evidently shy of addressing his elder comrade.
Reimers thought he could guess what was coming. No doubt it was again some question about his experiences in the war, of the kind he had already answered twenty times this evening in a more or less evasive fashion. This curiosity did not offend him, for such questions must be in every officer's mind, and especially in that of one who was fresh to the soldier's calling.
Sure enough Landsberg came up. He began rather slowly. "Excuse me, may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly, I shall be most happy," answered Reimers.
"Do tell me," Landsberg proceeded hesitatingly, "I would like so much--in fact, the shape of your boots pleases me immensely; they are awfully smart, and I--in fact, you would confer a tremendous favour on me if you would give me the address of your bootmaker."
Reimers considered for a moment, then replied coldly: "I bought these boots in passing through Berlin."
"Just what I expected! They do look awfully smart, really! And do you remember the address of the shop?"
"No."
"What a pity! But, if you don't mind, I will send my servant to you to copy it off the lining. May I?"
Again Reimers was silent for a moment, then he said: "I have no objection, if you think it important."
Landsberg brought his heels together with a click, bowed, and murmured: "You are very kind; I shall certainly do so."
Then he moved away with, "Thank you so much."
Reimers turned away. He suddenly found the room too hot, and he walked up and down for a time in the cooler air of the vestibule. All the doors were open. In the mess-room the staff-officers and the captains were standing near the table, which was already laid. It was a few minutes before half-past seven. Only the colonel had not come yet.
Andreae, the senior staff-surgeon, gave Reimers a friendly nod through the doorway. Reimers was his show patient. The specialist had shrugged his shoulders, but he, Andreae, had not thrown up the sponge. The thing was in reality quite simple. It only needed, like other military affairs, initiative. The right diagnosis must be made as promptly as possible, and the right treatment must follow without delay. Then all went well, as in this case--unless, indeed, something went wrong. Yes, indeed, this patient was a triumph which should finally reduce to silence those civilian colleagues of his who considered a military surgeon competent at most to deal with venereal diseases and broken bones.
Reimers listened in an absent-minded way to his long-winded deliverances on the subject of acclimatisation, taking furtive glances the while at the other officers in the mess-room.
They also seemed in no way changed. Major Lischke and Captain von Wegstetten were still at loggerheads, Lischke blustering away in his loud voice, and Wegstetten assuming his most ironical expression. Captain Stuckardt was listening in a half-hearted way; he had quite recently been put on the list for promotion to the staff, and consequently wore a rather preoccupied look. Hitherto he had found the charge of one battery difficult enough, and now he would have to command three. Undisturbed by the dispute, the captain of the fifth battery, Mohr, had sat down to the table by himself; he was always thirsty, and had already disposed of half a bottle of champagne. Madelung, fresh from the Far East, paced up and down with short nervous steps between him and the disputing officers. In passing, he glanced at the two fighting-cocks with a kind of scornful pity, and at the silent toper with contempt. Major Schrader and Captain von Gropphusen were whispering and chuckling together in a window nook. They had one inexhaustible theme--women; while forage was the favourite topic of the two men standing beneath the chandelier--Träger and Heuschkel, the officers commanding the first and second batteries. The third battery had the fattest horses in the regiment--"and the laziest," said the colonel; nevertheless, it must be allowed, that when the inspector from the Ministry of War paid his visit, it was an uncommonly pleasant sight to see the hind-quarters of those horses shining so round and sleek in their stalls.
"Carrots! carrots!" cried Heuschkel. "They're the thing!" And Andreae, who, as a healer of men must also have some knowledge of the inside of beasts, was called on to endorse this view as to the excellence of carrots as fodder.
Thus Reimers felt himself rather out of it all, and was just about to leave the mess-room and join his younger comrades, when Madelung came towards him.
The lieutenant waited expectantly. He was interested, for it was almost an event when Madelung spoke to any one.
This lean, black-haired man, with the thin dark face and the deep-set penetrating eyes, was undoubtedly the most unpopular officer in the regiment. He was characterised as an unscrupulous place-hunter, and gave himself not the slightest trouble to disprove the accusation. The one excuse that could be offered for him was that, his father having been ruined through no fault of his own, he was almost entirely dependent on his pay, and had been able to keep up his position as an officer only by means of the strictest economy, and with the help of an extra allowance from the royal privy-purse. It may have been this that embittered him so that he avoided all social intercourse with the other officers, and devoted himself entirely to his profession. By means of relentless industry he had now won for himself the prospect of a brilliant career; on leaving the Staff College he had been presented by the king with a sword of honour, and he could look forward to a position on the general staff. Naturally he had volunteered for the expedition to Eastern Asia, and had recently returned from China decorated with an order, thinner and more pinched-looking than ever, and still less amiable.
Reimers stood before him in a strictly correct attitude, for the captain was not to be trifled with. But Madelung put him at his ease with a nod, and said, glancing sharply at him, "So you are the other exotic prodigy who is being fêted to-day!"
He laughed drily.
The lieutenant made no response, and Madelung went on rapidly: "I may tell you that I envy you!"
Reimers felt the captain take his hand and give it a quick, hearty shake; but before he could answer, Madelung had turned and walked away to the table.
At this moment the colonel appeared. He greeted each of the older officers with a couple of words, and the younger with a general nod. Reimers alone, on the day of his return, had a special greeting and a hearty handshake.
Then they sat down to table. From the colonel in the seat of honour, downwards, the officers were placed according to rank and length of service. The youngest and the last was anavantageur[A] who had joined the regiment on October 1st. He had been on stable duty from half-past four that morning, and had to pull himself together now not to fall asleep; till at last a bottle of Zeltinger was placed before him by the orderly, and then he became livelier.
[Footnote A: A one-year volunteer who elects to remain on in the army and await promotion.--Translator.]
Reimers had chosen a place near the little lieutenant of doctor's degree, who was quite an amusing fellow, and chattered away so glibly that his neighbour hardly needed to contribute to the conversation.
Of course Fröben had begun: "Well, Reimers, fire away! Give us some leaves from your military diary. We are all ears!" But Reimers soon changed the subject. What he had seen and gone through down there among the Boers was still in his own mind a dim, confused chaos of impressions, and it was repugnant to him to touch on it even superficially, so long as he was not clear about it himself.
The little doctor began to dilate on the splendid German East-African line of steamers, which conveyed one for a mere trifle from Hamburg to Naples, by way of Antwerp, Oporto, and Lisbon, and he enlarged at great length on the educational influence of long journeys in general and of sea-voyages in particular.
Reimers listened patiently, letting his eyes wander round the table. Just as of old, the various groups still kept together, and were continuing their conversations uninterruptedly. Falkenhein, in their midst, listened with amusement as the senior staff-surgeon chaffed Stuckhardt about that oldest and yet newest of nervous diseases--"majoritis." Madelung was looking rather glum, and kept twirling the little silver wheel of the knife-rest. Next to him, Mohr was staring straight before him with glassy eyes, and Schrader leant back in his chair laughing, while Gropphusen still kept on talking to him.
"He's got something to laugh about!" said Fröben to his neighbour, interrupting his discourse.
"How do you mean?" asked Reimers.
"Well, to put it delicately, Schrader has got a flirtation on with Frau von Gropphusen--a very intimate flirtation!"
"Indeed!" Reimer responded indifferently.
Here was a fine piece of gossip, and strange to say, in this, too, things were as before; it was not the first time that Major Schrader and Frau von Gropphusen had afforded material for conversation.
Dr. von Fröben continued: "But you must not think, Reimers, that in such matters I am a bigoted moralist. Ideas of morality are subject to just the same fluctuations as----"
And he dealt out what remained in his memory of a newspaper article, the writer of which had entirely misunderstood Nietsche.
After the toast of "The King," a momentary silence fell upon the company, contrasting strangely with the clatter of voices which had preceded it.
During this lull in the conversation the word "China" was spoken somewhere near the colonel, and all eyes involuntarily turned to Madelung.
He sat there stiffly with his cold face, a cynical smile on his thin lips. "Dangers!" he cried in his hard voice, which had the shrillness of a musical instrument that has lost its resonance, "Dangers! I knew nothing about them."
He laughed drily.
Captain Heuschkel, who was always worrying about his fat horses, inquired: "Well, against such an opponent, surely cover had to be considered most of all. Wasn't it so? that cover was of more importance than action? Ten thousand of those yellow fellows were not worth a single trained soldier, surely?"
"Or one of my horses," he added in his own mind. He would probably have committed suicide if he had seen one of his horses shot by a dirty Chinaman.
"Surely it was a question of good cover, wasn't it?" he insisted.
"No," answered Madelung in a loud voice. "It was a question of keeping your fingers out of your mouth."
"What on earth had that to do with it?" put in Captain von Stuckardt, rather hesitatingly.
Madelung bowed with ironical politeness.
"Infection with the typhus bacillus," he replied, "was the principal danger in China, Captain von Stuckardt."
After a little pause the shrill voice continued: "We had a senior-lieutenant in our cantonment, belonging to some Prussian grenadier regiment, a gay fellow, and, indeed, quite a useful officer besides."
Madelung paused a moment, and again his dry, mocking laugh resounded.
Then he continued: "He had a queer fad. He cultivated one of his finger-nails, that of the little finger of his left hand, with the greatest care. Just like a Chinese mandarin. At last the nail was fully a centimetre long, and made holes in all his gloves. Now, whenever a speck of dirt lodged in this nail, he was in the habit of removing it with his teeth. It wasn't exactly a nice thing to do; but, you see, he had a passion for that nail. I often said to him, 'My dear fellow, do keep your finger away from your mouth--it's just swarming with typhus bacilli.' He did try, but sometimes he forgot; and so in the end he was caught."
Every one looked inquiringly at Madelung, and he added: "He died of typhus."
He sipped his wine, and continued, rather more gently: "I firmly believe that it required greater self-control in that senior-lieutenant to refrain from putting his little finger into his mouth than to lead his men under the heaviest fire against one of those Chinese clay and mud walls."
Then he raised his voice again, as if ashamed of the rather gentler tone of his last words, and concluded, harshly and shrilly: "Besides, it really is a bad habit, putting one's fingers in one's mouth."
And again he sat silent and stiff, twirling the little silver wheel of the knife-rest.
The feast then took the usual course.
After the table had been cleared some of the officers remained in the mess-room sitting over their wine, while others went off to the reading or smoking-rooms with aschoppenof Pilsener. In the mess-room the talk became more and more noisy, while in the adjoining rooms quieter conversation was the rule. A couple of inveterate card-players started a game of skat; and in the billiard-room Captain Madelung amused himself alone, making cannon after cannon. At his first miss he put down his cue and waited impatiently for the colonel's departure, that being the signal for the official close of the festivity. Madelung left almost immediately after Falkenhein, and the majority of the married men followed his example.
At last only lieutenants remained, except Major Schrader and Captain von Gropphusen. The one other senior officer, Captain Mohr, did not count. He had not quitted his seat the whole evening, and still went on persistently drinking with the assistant-surgeon, an exceedingly stout man, with a face scarred by students' fights. The scars were glowing now as if they would burst.
The subalterns could feel quite at their ease, for Schrader and Gropphusen were no spoil-sports.
Manitius now sang his "Behüet dich Gott," rather unsteadily, accompanied by Frommelt, who was quite tipsy. The song was a great success, for the youngavantageurwas overcome by emotion, and began blubbering about a certain Martha whom he loved prodigiously, and whom he must now abandon, because he would never be permitted to marry a barmaid. On this Schrader suddenly tore open his uniform and offered him nourishment from his hairy breast, and the boy sank weeping into his arms.
At last the comedy grew wearisome. Theavantageurwas sent off to bed, and Frommelt had to play a cancan, to which Gropphusen and Landsberg danced. Gropphusen was supple and agile, and, with his pale, handsome, rather worn face, looked a perfect Montmartre type. Landsberg, on the contrary, cut a grotesque figure, kicking up his long shoes in the air, and as he did so almost choking in his unduly high collar.
The company became smaller and smaller, and at last only two groups were left.
In the card-room half-a-dozen men still sat awhile at one of the tables, and in the mess-room Captain Mohr and the junior surgeon continued drinking. They had long ago given up conversation; but occasionally one of them would say "Prosit!" and then they would both drink. When at last they left their seats they found the orderly in the ante-room half-asleep, half drunk, fallen from his chair, and lying snoring on the ground.
Growling "Damned swine!" the assistant-surgeon kicked the man till he rose, and with an effort stood upright.
When the last two officers had left the mess-house he locked the doors, drank the end of a bottle of champagne, and lay down to sleep on the sofa in the smoking-room.
The sofa-cover was a sacred relic, a present to the mess-house from an officer in the East African forces, who had formerly belonged to the regiment. It was a magnificent specimen of Oriental art. The orderly found the thick gold embroidery very uncomfortable to his cheek; but then it certainly was a fine thing to scratch his head with!
When Reimers, who had left early, reached his quarters, he was surprised to find his servant waiting up for him.
"Why on earth are you not in bed?" he inquired.
Gähler answered respectfully, "Beg pardon, sir, on such occasions the count used sometimes to need me; he often went out again."
"Well, I don't. So remember that in future," enjoined Reimers.
Gähler still waited, and asked, "Would you like some tea, sir?"
Reimers looked up. Not a bad idea that! He was too much excited to sleep, for he had been obliged to pledge his comrades far too often, and a cup of tea would be just the thing. After that he would read a few pages, and only then try to go to sleep.
"Yes, make me some tea," he assented, "but not too strong."
He put on a comfortable smoking-jacket. Gähler brought his tea almost immediately, and with it a plate of anchovy sandwiches.
Reimers smiled. It certainly paid to have for one's servant the quondam groom of an elegant cavalry officer. He gave Gähler a friendly nod, and said, "I think, Gähler, that we shall get on capitally together."
The gunner stood at attention.
"Any other orders, sir?" he asked.
"No. Good-night."
"Good-night, sir."
Reimers ate a few mouthfuls as he walked up and down the room; then he carried the green-shaded lamp to his writing-table, and took down a volume of the official history of the great Franco-Prussian War.
He spread out the marvellously accurate maps, and began, as he had done so often before, to follow the various phases of his favourite battle, the three days' fight on the Lisaine. That was the only great defensive battle of the campaign, clearer and easier to follow than any other in its simple tactics, almost suggesting the typical example of a textbook, and yet what a living reality! Almost at the same moment when the German Empire was being proclaimed at Versailles, Bavarians were fighting shoulder to shoulder with East Prussians, regiments from Schleswig next those from Upper Silesia, soldiers from the Rhine-provinces side by side with soldiers from Saxony: a glorious demonstration of the newly achieved unity.
His admiration for the valiant defenders was no greater than his pity for the tragic fate of the attacking army, which, almost dying of starvation, had fought with the wild courage of despair, and had deserved a more honourable reward than to be driven along that terrible path of suffering to the Swiss frontier. Not less tragic was the fate of its commander; a fate, indeed, which Bourbaki shared with the other military leaders of the Republic. All those generals, Aurelle de Paladines, Chanzy, Faidherbe, Bourbaki, who at the brave but somewhat futile summons of the Committee of National Defence tried to arrest the victorious advance of the German army, were inevitably doomed to defeat; and even the inspiration of a military genius could not have got over the fundamental mistake that had been made, of considering the impossible possible.
Reimers looked up from the book with a glowing face. He had followed the French army as far as Pontarlier. That was the moment in which the German forces commanded the largest area. In the west the Rhinelanders were gazing astonished at the winter waves on the canal, while to the east, Pomeranians greeted the sentinels of the Swiss frontier.
Where in all the world could a nation be found richer in honour and in victories?
During the next few days Reimers had to make calls on the ladies of the regiment.
It was wearisome work, answering the same questions over and over again; and once more he had proof of the fact that against certain conditions time seems powerless. Some of the young married women had during his absence become mothers; but most of the ladies of the regiment presided without change over the solid domestic comfort of their house-holds. The main thing noticeable was that they had sacrificed themselves with greater or less success to fashion, which was just now in favour of slender figures.
The course of their conversation was almost literally the same as of yore, and in each case the curiosity shown was of exactly the same degree, except that Captain Heuschkel's wife, who was president of the Red Cross Society, inquired as to the care of the wounded in South Africa; while the lady who presided over the Home Missions wished to know if the Boers were really as pious as they were represented to be.
This monotony was, to a certain extent, the result of natural selection. Most of the officers had chosen their wives very carefully, and this had brought about a fine similarity in their views, a similarity which even found expression in the rather unattractive arrangement of their dwellings, in which the upholsterer's hand was but too evident.
Only two ladies, the wives of Captains von Stuckardt and von Gropphusen, differed from this type.
Frau von Stuckardt was unjustly considered haughty. She was merely unfortunate in being unable to adapt herself to the mental atmosphere of the other ladies. She had been placed for a couple of years in an institution for the daughters of the nobility, and was just preparing to enter a convent when Stuckardt, who was a distant cousin of hers, proposed to her. In her heart she regretted the worldly emotion to which she had then yielded; she believed that, by her marriage, she had defrauded the Church, and felt her conscience constantly oppressed by this grave offence. The interests of the other officers' wives puzzled her, doubly separated from them as she was by creed and by education; and when, under social compulsion, she gave a coffee-party, she sat among her guests like a being from a strange world, a pale and slender figure, always dressed in dark colours and wearing a cap of old lace upon her smoothly parted black hair; a striking contrast to the other fair, rosy, lively women in their gay gowns.
Frau von Gropphusen's parties were much more amusing. You could not be quite sure that she was not making fun of you; but you were certain to carry away on each occasion a supply of gossip which would last for weeks.
Externally, Gropphusen and his wife were exceedingly well matched. He was of medium height, with slender limbs and a pale, finely chiselled face, vivacious eyes, wavy dark hair, and a small black beard. She was one of those dainty blondes who remind one of iced champagne, with a marvellously graceful figure, a droll little nose, and steel blue eyes under dark eyebrows.
When first married they were madly in love with each other; but when the fire burnt out, Gropphusen went back to his old habits.
Truth to tell, he was a rake, who, even after marriage, thought nothing of spending dissipated nights week after week in the capital, returning by the early morning train. He seemed to have cast-iron nerves; for even the envious had to admit that his official work did not suffer. He had a clever head, and was an artist into the bargain, an excellent painter of horses; experts advised him to hang up his sword on a nail and devote himself to the brush. But he had not yet made up his mind to that.
Irregular in all other departments of life, he was regular only in his excesses. He was very rich, so that he could give the rein to almost all his whims. Indeed, reports of a rather fantastic kind, somewhat recalling Duke Charles of Brunswick, were current about him, the most extravagant being of a ballet he had had performed for him by fifty naked dancing girls. There was a certain amount of exaggeration about this, perhaps. In any case he troubled himself no longer about his young wife.
Hannah Gropphusen indemnified herself in her own way by coquetry and flirtations, and she was soon gossipped about as much as her husband. But those that whispered and chattered about her felt their consciences prick them when they carried their backbiting further; the young wife could never be accused of anything more serious.
It was noteworthy that Reimers had always felt more attracted by these exceptions among the officers' ladies than by the typical representatives of that class. He did not know why exactly, but he thought he saw a certain similarity between the position of these ladies and his own; these two and he were different from the average.
Unlike his comrades, he enjoyed visiting Frau von Stuckardt. She never talked platitudes, she would rather remain silent, and she was a little given to proselytising. Reimers liked to hear her subdued voice extolling the mysteries of the Catholic faith; he was proof against her endeavours, but a beneficent calm emanated from this unworldly woman, and he could feel with her that the spiritual renunciations of Catholicism offered a quiet resting-place to the world-weary.
The Gropphusen interested him. She was considered superficial and frivolous, but he did not think her really so. There was too much system in her frivolity and superficiality.
He had purposely left these two visits to the last. But Frau von Stuckardt was away from home; and when he handed his card to Frau von Gropphusen's servant he was told that the lady was unwell, but the man would ask if she could receive.
Reimers felt rather vexed, and was just turning away when the gunner returned and asked him to come in.
He conducted the lieutenant along the corridor. "My mistress is in her boudoir," he said.
Reimers was shown into a small room, the only window of which was darkened. Frau von Gropphusen half raised herself from a broad couch. She wore a loose tea-gown of soft silk, and had a light covering spread over her knees.
"Welcome back, Herr Reimers!" she said, and stretched out her hand to him.
Reimers bent over it respectfully, and kissed the tips of her fingers.
Then his young hostess let herself fell back again upon the couch and drew her hand across her forehead.
"I am not very well," she resumed; "but I could not refuse to see you."
"No, no, you must stay," she went on; for Reimers looked as if he meant to take leave at once. "There, sit down. Just wait a minute; I feel better already."
Reimers took a seat and glanced round the room. The couch almost filled it, the only other furniture being a dainty little writing-table in the window and a couple of chairs. Above the couch hung the only picture, a fine print of Gainsborough'sBlue Boy.
In the meanwhile, Frau von Gropphusen had recovered herself. Her pretty pale face was lighted up by a somewhat melancholy smile, and she began softly: "No, really, I couldn't let you go!"
She raised herself again, drew her knees up beneath their covering, and clasped her arms round them. It was done quite simply and naturally, without any touch of coquetry. And then she stretched out her hand again to Reimers and said: "You, the champion of the Boers!" Then, supporting her chin on her knees, she continued: "But now you must tell me exactly why you fought for them?"
As Reimers was preparing to answer, she interrupted him: "No, I will question you. Wait a minute. Was it from love of adventure?"
"No. At least, that is not the right way of putting it. I wanted for once to see something of the serious side of my profession. But even that was not the chief reason."
"Well, then, was it in search of fame?"
Involuntarily Reimers deviated from his usual rule of answering evasively, and replied: "No; that was not it either. I wanted nothing for myself personally, or at most only to prove my fitness for my profession."
"But neither was that your principal motive?"
"Oh, no."
"Perhaps it was indignation against the strong who were oppressing the weak?"
Reimers was silent for a moment. Then he said: "Perhaps. But other things contributed; above all, boredom. And--I wanted a decision as to whether I was to live or not. I could not remain an invalid for ever."
"But still your chief, your final motive was the love of justice, wasn't it?"
"Well, yes."
Hannah Gropphusen sank back again languidly. For the third time she stretched out her hand to Reimers: "It rejoices me to find that such people still exist, and to know one of them!"
Reimers had held her hand for a moment in his own. It was a small hand, almost too thin, with slender fingers. As he looked at it, he was reminded of the gentle hands of his mother. He respectfully touched the beautiful fingers with his lips and rose. Frau von Gropphusen made no effort to detain him.
"It is perhaps better for me," she said wearily; and as he reached the door, she added: "But it has given me great pleasure to see you again," and she dismissed him with a friendly nod.
Reimers stood for a moment before the front door, thoughtfully buttoning his gloves.
It was certainly odd; the very woman whom every one else seemed to distrust appeared to him more worthy of esteem than any of the others. He realised this only after the visit just paid. To her alone had he answered frankly, and although they had hardly exchanged a dozen words, he felt they under-stood each other perfectly. He could not avoid the thought that their souls were akin. Each of them yearned after what was great and beautiful in life. This woman, indeed, deserved pity, for she had suffered shipwreck in the greatest and noblest end for which woman is created--in her love; but he, thank God, was a man; and his ideal, Germany, still stood out clear and definite, dwarfing mere personal aims.
In that dim room a sinister thought had seized upon him, oppressing and paralysing him; a vague foreboding that his fate would resemble that of this pale woman. But he chased the dark clouds away. His star did not vary in its light as does the shifting and drifting human mind; it was like the sun, steady, unchangeable, inspiring.
"For oh! I had a comrade,And a better could not be."(Uhland.)
"For oh! I had a comrade,And a better could not be."
(Uhland.)
During the first days of December Corporal Wiegandt would sometimes observe, in a pause of the drill, that the recruits were beginning to look a little like soldiers; and in the bar-rack-room, after drill was over, he occasionally even went so far as to give them some praise.
When he was getting ready to go out in the evening, and, with sabre buckled on and forage-cap stuck jauntily on his head, brushed his moustache before the little looking-glass, he would say: "Boys, I am almost pleased with you to-day. I shall tell my Frieda."
Whereupon the recruits would laugh, as in duty bound. They might all hate the corporal; he would not dispense with a fraction of their drill, and did not express himself in a complimentary way during the exercises; but he made things easy for them as far as possible, changing about from difficult to less difficult movements, and giving them long intervals between those that were the most exacting. His division never had to stand for minutes together with their knees bent, like Heppner's. Moreover, despite his roughness, there was about him a certain kind-heartedness which took the form of good-natured little extra lessons to the least efficient after drill.
His Frieda was a merry industrious girl who sewed muslin in a frilling factory, and hoarded up the groschen she earned in order to save enough money to be married some day.
And Wiegandt, who, despite his martial appearance, was an ardent lover, added the pfennigs of his pay, and deprived himself of his evening beer, going for walks with his sweet-heart instead, and kissing her over and over again.
"That tastes better than beer," he would say, "and costs nothing."
As the pair had not much to talk of except their lover-like wishes, Wiegandt used to tell the girl about the recruits, so that by degrees Frieda learnt to know all their names and idiosyncrasies, and began to take a certain interest in them. Above all had the case of Frielinghausen appealed to her. The sympathetic little seamstress saw in him something of the romantic disguised prince; and it amused her to make the credulous Wiegandt a little jealous, until at last she would assure him with a hearty kiss that he was her dearest and best.
When the corporal had gone off to his rendezvous, Frielinghausen was left in supervision of Room IX. The sergeant-major had arranged it thus, in order that from the very beginning the young man might become accustomed to responsibility. And the charge was quite an easy one. By evening none of the recruits had much inclination to make a noise or to get into mischief. All the day-time, from morning till evening, was occupied in the various branches of their duty; and the hours which then remained were completely filled up with the brushing and polishing of their clothes and accoutrements. It they could have done as they liked, they would have gone to bed directly after evening stable-duty; but that was not permitted until nine o'clock.
So when their cleaning up was done and they sat on their stools round the table, most of them would stretch their arms on the top and fall asleep; occasionally some one would scribble a few lines home. When bedtime came at last, none of them tarried; but, drunken with sleep, would tramp one after the other up the stairs to the dormitory.
Some, of course, were more fatigued by the work than others. Vogt and Weise were among those who got on best. Both were strong, healthy lads, and, moreover, not stupid; so that the theoretical instruction was as easy to them as the foot-drill, gun-practice, and gymnastics. To be attentive and quick--that was the chief thing.
Among the worst were Truchsess the fat brewer, the clerk Klitzing, and Frielinghausen.
The brewer, it is true, was a strong, powerful man, but far too slow in his movements. Klitzing, on the other hand, was too weak for the demands of the drill. It was impossible for him, in the gun-practice, to raise the end of the gun-carriage as "Number 3," or as "Number 5" to direct the pole of the carriage; in gymnastics he would hang helplessly on the horizontal bar; and even in the foot-drill it was difficult for him to stand up straight.
When Vogt advised him to report himself as ill he refused. "No, I won't go into hospital. Never!"
"Why not?" asked Vogt.
"I don't wish to," replied the clerk; and as Vogt insisted, he said, "Well, Vogt, I'll tell you: I should never come out again; I should die there."
And with a strained smile he added: "It doesn't matter where I die; but I shouldn't like it to be in hospital."
Frielinghausen, though an active and agile young fellow, seemed to be constitutionally flighty and superficial. He had been one of the quickest to pick up a general idea of things; but afterwards the minute details of instruction, which sometimes appeared so unpractical and so apt to make more of the "how?" than of the "what?" would not stay in his head. What difference could it make whether one sprang forward with the right foot or with the left, or whether in pulling the lanyard the right hand had rested upon the left? Surely the essential things were that one should spring over the line and that the shot should go off!
So, despite his honest zeal, he made many mistakes, and the everlastingly warning calls of his name maddened him. In the theoretical work he was naturally far in advance of his comrades; for, despite idleness at school, this was mere child's play to his practised memory. He, who had had to learn hundreds of lines of the "Odyssey" by heart, could easily remember facts about the bores of guns!
Klitzing also distinguished himself in these instruction-lessons. The delicate clerk possessed another advantage, in his own calling almost surprising, and particularly useful to an artilleryman: that is to say, unusually sharp sight, which found the mark in a moment and took aim with absolute accuracy.
This somewhat atoned to Wiegandt for his other faults, and it was only for Lieutenant Landsberg that Klitzing remained nothing but a scapegoat.
During drill Landsberg generally stood at the end of the parade-ground, looking utterly bored and staring at his boots, which he had had made in the style of Reimers'. It was only if Wegstetten was in sight that he troubled himself about the recruits. Then he would run to Corporal Wiegandt's division, and always began to abuse Klitzing, the "careless fellow," the "lazy-bones."
He was constantly threatening the poor devil with extra drill; but he never enforced the punishment, as that would have meant that he himself must put in an appearance at the same time.
At last Reimers, who was commanding the battery during a brief absence of the captain, put an end to this little game.
"Tell me, Landsberg, have you ever consulted Corporal Wiegandt about that wretched Klitzing?"
"No, sir," answered Landsberg.
Reimers called Wiegandt to him.
"What's the matter with Klitzing?" he inquired.
The corporal replied: "Beg pardon, sir; the man means thoroughly well and takes great pains; but I think he is far too delicate."
"Very good, Wiegandt," said Reimers, and dismissed him. Then he turned seriously and officially to Landsberg. "I think, Landsberg, you had better leave the man in peace."
Landsberg murmured: "Yes, sir," and looked out for another victim.
During the week the recruits in Room IX. had got to know each other better. The band of comradeship had wound itself imperceptibly around them, and within it some closer, more cordial friendships had sprung up.
The most varied types of men found themselves thrown together.
If, in the evening, the fat brewer happened for once not to be resting his tired body in sleep after the fatigues of the day, he would squat down near Listing, who had been a wanderer and a vagabond. He would listen with many a shake of the head to the stories Listing related of his life on the roads, especially of the nights the fine ones, in which one lay on the dry grass beneath the twinkling stars, or in the forest under a beech in the branches of which the screech-owl was calling; and of the wretched, rainy, cold nights of late autumn. Then one would pull a few trusses of straw out of a stack and creep shivering into the hole, which would gradually become wet through from the dripping rain, and through the opening of which the east wind would blow in icily.
Then the brewer would clap his comrade on the knee with his broad, fat hand, and say: "Well, friend, it must feel first-class to you now when you roll into a good bed?"
But Listing replied: "Well, no. Not exactly. But perhaps I shall get used to it. I have often slept better out of doors; but worse too."