At Easter a small event occurred in the little garrison,
During Holy Week Colonel von Falkenhein took a short leave of absence in order to fetch his daughter Marie home from school at Neuchatel. After Easter she was to come out into society.
Reimers debated whether he ought not to pay his respects to the Falkenheins during the holidays. Most of the unmarried officers had gone away on leave, and on Easter Monday he was alone in the mess-room at the mid-day meal.
Finally he decided to pay his visit that afternoon.
He was not in the least curious about the young lady. He remembered her as Falkenhein's little Marie, three years ago, before she went to school; a pretty, rather slender little girl, with a thick plait of bright gold hair down her back, blushing scarlet when one spoke to her and responding quickly and daintily with the regulation childish curtsey.
She was now just seventeen; still slender, and her little face framed by the same bright golden hair, that seemed almost too great a weight for her head. Beautiful clear grey eyes she had also; and Reimers particularly remarked her delicate straight nose, by the trembling of whose nostrils one could judge if the little lady were excited about anything. She bore the dignity of being the colonel's daughter with modest pride. She handled the tea-things with the style of an accomplished matron, and led the conversation with a sort of old-fashioned self-possession.
Falkenhein never took his eyes off his child. Sometimes he smiled to himself, as he noted how unconcernedly she did the honours to her first guest, knowing well her secret anxiety to play her new part with success.
When Reimers rose to go, the colonel invited him to supper. The lieutenant accepted with pleasure. He was sure that intercourse with his commander would be of a thousand times more value to him than the dry wisdom of books.
Hitherto when Reimers had supped at the colonel's, after the meal, as they sat smoking, the senior officer would dilate on his reminiscences and experiences.
This time, however, there was a little alteration. Before a young girl the two men could not discuss specially military matters. Nevertheless, Reimers was not bored.
When Fräulein Marie showed symptoms of beginning again in her quaint universal-conversationalist style her father interrupted her.
"Little one," he said, "leave that sort of chatter alone! Keep it for others. Lieutenant Reimers does not care for that kind of thing. And I know him well, I assure you, my child; he is one of my best officers."
The little lady opened her eyes wide on the young soldier. "If papa says that," she said gravely, "I congratulate you, Herr Reimers."
The colonel laughed aloud. Conversation flowed fast and free after this. The young girl could talk brightly of her little life, and asked intelligent questions.
She began confidentially to question her guest about the ladies of the regiment, whereupon Falkenhein said abruptly: "Tell me, Reimers; you often go to the Güntzes', don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Of course Güntz is an old friend of yours. Do you know, I am much taken by his wife. She seems to me to be amiable, straightforward, sensible. We are neighbours; I should like Marie to see something of her. But they keep themselves to themselves rather, don't they?" "Oh, not altogether. Only Güntz finds ordinary shallow society uncongenial."
"So do I, and so do you; eh, Reimers? But I see what you mean."
Next day Lieutenant Güntz and Frau Kläre called at the colonel's, and regular intercourse soon established itself between the neighbours. Marie von Falkenhein was secretly enraptured with Kläre Güntz and her "sweet baby"; while Kläre took to her heart the fair young girl who had so early lost a mother's love.
From this time the social status of the former governess was completely changed. Frau Lischke invited that "delightful" Frau Güntz to her select coffee parties. But Kläre excused herself on the plea that she was nursing her baby and could not be away from him for more than two hours together.
Later in the year, when the evenings were warmer, and it was tempting to linger in the open air, the neighbours took to meeting together for supper in one garden or the other. The occupants of Waisenhaus Strasse No. 55 and those of No. 57 alternately provided the comestibles.
Reimers was always free of the table. Once he triumphantly contributed a liver sausage with truffles; but he was ruthlessly snubbed by Kläre for bringing such a thing in the dog-days.
The little clique was much censured by the regiment. Such familiar intercourse, it was thought, undermined the authority of the colonel. Nevertheless, people were eager for the goodwill of Frau Güntz.
Thus it came about that Güntz had the satisfaction of seeing his wife one of the most popular ladies of the regiment, and was able to tease her with the new discovery that she was "exclusive, not to say stuck up and proud."
In reality Kläre had only become intimate with two of the ladies. After Marie von Falkenhein she foregathered chiefly with Hannah von Gropphusen.
The latter was a real puzzle to her new friends. She was always alternating in her moods from one extreme to the other. Sometimes she would not appear for weeks at a time; then she would come down day after day, each time seeming unable to tear herself away. Now she would be full of nervous, overwrought vivacity, and again would sit perfectly silent, staring gloomily before her.
Güntz fled from her presence; he said she made him feel creepy. Once he whispered mysteriously in his wife's ear: "Do you know, I believe she and Gropphusen have committed a murder between them: and this terrible bond holds them together, although they fight like cat and dog."
But Kläre strongly objected to such jokes. "How can you tell what that poor woman may have to bear? There may have been a murder in her history; but it was done by Gropphusen, and on her soul. Joke about something else, Fatty."
The happy young wife entertained the warmest sympathy for the other unhappy one, who always had the look of being pursued by some terrible evil. More than once a sisterly feeling impelled her, not from curiosity, but from genuine sympathy, to put a question to Hannah about her sorrow; but she read in the sombre, hopeless eyes of the sufferer that the burden must be borne alone; so she left Frau von Gropphusen in peace. She listened patiently when the nervous woman talked ceaselessly about a thousand different things, in short, jerky sentences as if to drown some inner voice; neither would Kläre interrupt with a single question the heavy silence in which, at other times, Hannah would sit for hours, watching her as she busied herself with her little housewifely tidyings and mendings. It was only in watching this peaceful activity that Frau von Gropphusen recovered her equanimity. Her face would then lose its unnatural fixity of expression, and she would draw a deep breath, as though eased of a heavy burden.
"It is so peaceful here with you, Frau Kläre," she said sometimes. "It does one good."
Güntz shook his head over her weird conduct. One thing gratified him concerning her, however: it was that she admired his little son unreservedly, and could be given no greater treat than to be allowed to hold the boy on her lap. She would sit as though worshipping the child, who, indeed, was no angel, only a quite ordinary, fat, chubby infant. At such times her small finely-chiselled features would light up with a glorious beauty; so that Güntz one day whispered to his wife, "Do you know what the Gropphusen needs? A child!"
And in his open-hearted way he once said jokingly to Hannah: "Wouldn't you like a beautiful boy like that for yourself, dear lady?"
At that Hannah Gropphusen sprang up wildly. Her hands shook so that she could scarcely hold the baby, whom Kläre snatched from her only just in time.
"I, a child?" she cried. "For the love of God, never, never!"
A look of horror was in her eyes. She held her hands before her face as though to shut out something horrible.
Güntz drew back shocked, and stole softly from the room, taking with him the baby, who had set up a mighty howling. Kläre put her arm round the trembling woman, led her to a seat, and soothed her like a child.
Sitting motionless, Frau von Gropphusen listened to the gentle, comforting sound of the words, without taking in their meaning, Suddenly she sprang up and said in a voice of enforced calm:
"Forgive me, dear kind Frau Kläre, for having caused such a disturbance. It is wrong of me not to be able to control myself better. Don't be vexed, or angry with me, but please just forget what has happened."
She began hurriedly to prepare for leaving. Her hands still shook as she pinned on her hat before the mirror.
"Let me go with you, dear Frau von Gropphusen," urged Kläre.
Hannah von Gropphusen, however, was smiling once more; though in sooth on her pallid countenance the smile had something of a ghastly look.
"No, no, Frau Kläre," she assured her; "I am better alone."
Once more saying, "Forgive me, won't you?" she departed.
Güntz meanwhile had not been able to quiet the little screamer, and was glad enough when Kläre took the child from him.
"What is the matter with her?" he asked.
Kläre shrugged her shoulders. "She did not tell me; perhaps she could not. The trouble may be too profound, too terrible."
"You have left her alone?"
"She has gone."
The senior-lieutenant looked out of window. His wife, with the baby in her arms, came and stood beside him.
"See!" he cried. "There she goes! Young, beautiful, rich, fashionable--has she not everything to make her happy?" And shaking his head he added, "Poor, poor woman!"
He vowed to himself not to make depreciatory remarks about the Gropphusen in the future. One thing, however, he felt he must impress on his wife: "Look here, Kläre," he cautioned her, "you won't let her hold the boy often, will you?"
With the returning spring Hannah von Gropphusen seemed to awaken from her depression. She had one great passion, to which she eagerly resorted as soon as the days became fit for it: this was tennis.
In their small garrison she had no real match; the only person who came anywhere near her was Reimers. He had, of course, been absent from the tennis club for a whole year, and she was all the more delighted at the approach of fine weather.
Frau von Gropphusen and Reimers were always the last to leave the ground, when the balls were often hardly discernible in the gathering twilight. She soon found that her opponent had, during his absence, come on very much in his play. At Cairo he had played with English people, acknowledged masters of the game; whilst she herself, through playing with indifferent performers, had lost much of her former facility; so now they were well matched.
Feeling this, Reimers played more easily and surely than of old, and consequently had greater leisure to remark what he had formerly been indifferent to--the beauty and grace of his opponent.
Meeting her during the winter in society, when she was as though bowed down by her secret sorrow, and took little part in the gay life around her, he had thought her looking older. But now, in the budding springtime, in the warm sunshine, animated by the game, she seemed to have bathed in the fountain of youth.
Her tennis costume--with which, of course, she wore no corset, but only a narrow belt--was very becoming: a light blouse, a mouse-coloured skirt, close fitting over the hips and not reaching to her ankles, grey silk stockings, and white suede shoes guiltless of heels.
The ladies of the regiment pronounced this attire "indecent"; though not one of them would have hesitated to dress similarly, if it had suited her as well as it did Frau von Gropphusen. Frau Kauerhof (néevon Lüben) had indeed once attempted to appear in a like toilet, only her skirt was navy-blue. It was difficult to say wherein the difference consisted,--perhaps her skirt was a little longer than the other's,--but the whole effect was not so successful. And yet Frau Kauerhof was a pretty creature enough; not exactly slim, but rather of a blonde plumpness, and this was somewhat noticeable in her loose shirt. The glances of the young lieutenants dwelt rather insistently thereon. They were also able to make another interesting discovery. Frau Kauerhof's calves began immediately above her ankles. They were very fat calves.
Furthermore, Frau Kauerhof's white shoes advertised the fact that her feet were enormous. This the ladies decided with absolute unanimity; and they begged Frau Wegstetten, the highest in rank among the women tennis-players, to give her a hint.
That lady shrank from the commission. It was unpleasant to offend one whose papa was in the Ministry of War; and the situation might therefore have continued, perhaps to the satisfaction of the younger officers, if a fortunate chance had not brought Kauerhof himself to the tennis-ground.
He escorted his wife chivalrously home, and led her, without a word, to the mirror.
Her starched shirt was crumpled, and wet through with perspiration, also her shoes were trodden all out of shape.
"Dear Marion," he said, "I have no objection to your going to balls asdécolletéeas ever you please, for you are beautiful ..." and he kissed her neck; "but I do beg you not to exhibit yourself like this again."
Marion coloured and answered: "Yes, you're right, Hubby! Now I know why Fröben and Landsberg were staring at me so."
Then she pouted: "But Frau von Gropphusen looked nice dressed like this!"
Her husband answered quietly: "My child, 'quod licet Jovi, non licet bovi.'"
"What? What does that mean?"
Kauerhof translated gallantly, "You are prettier than the Gropphusen, my Marion; but she is thinner than you."
For one must be polite to a wife who is by birth a von Lüben, and the daughter of the head of a department in the War Office.
Reimers was not, like his comrades, accustomed to spend the greater part of his leisure in frivolity and flirting. It therefore never occurred to him to conceal his admiration for Frau von Gropphusen.
It often happened that he missed the easiest balls, fascinated in watching the movements and graceful attitudes of his opponent. Her feet, which even in the unflattering tennis-shoes looked small and dainty, seemed merely to skim over the ground like the wings of a passing swallow; and the most daring bounds and leaps, which in others would have been grotesque, she accomplished with the easy agility of a cat.
Reimers asked himself where his eyes had been that all this should hitherto have passed him unnoticed. He thought he had never seen anything so exquisite. But Hannah Gropphusen would scold him when he stood gazing thus in naïve admiration.
"Herr Reimers," she would cry, "how inattentive you are. You must really look after the balls better!"
But when she noted the direction of his admiring glances, a delicate flush would overspread her face and mount to her white brow, on which a single premature furrow was curiously noticeable.
"You see, Herr Reimers," she said, one evening in May, "we are the last again."
The sun had just set. A light mist rising from the river was faintly coloured by the last red rays.
Frau von Gropphusen rested her foot on a garden chair and refastened the strap of her shoe. Reimers stood watching, with his racquet in his hand. The stooping posture, though unusual, was so graceful, that he said simply and with conviction, but without the least passion or sentimentality in his voice: "Dear lady, how wonderfully beautiful you are!"
Hannah von Gropphusen bent closer over her shoe-lace. She wanted to say something in reply just as simple as his own words had been; but she could find nothing except the banal rejoinder: "Please do not flatter me, Herr Reimers!" and her voice rang a little sharply.
They walked silently side by side towards the town, by the footpath across the meadows, and then along a little bit of the high-road until they came to the first houses.
Reimers was under a spell. He could not speak. He listened to the light rapid footfall that accompanied his longer stride to the rhythm of her silk-lined skirt as she walked; and as the evening breeze from the river wafted a faint perfume towards him, he thought of the lovely slender arm he had seen through the transparent material of her sleeve. This perfume must come from that fair soft skin. He felt a sudden longing to kiss the beautiful arms.
Frau von Gropphusen avoided looking at her companion. Once only she stole a glance at him with a shy, questioning, dubious expression. It chanced that Reimers was looking at her. Their eyes met, and parted reluctantly.
At the garden gate he kissed her hand in farewell. She started a little and said with an assumption of gaiety, "Heavens! what can have come to us? On a warm spring evening like this our hands are as cold as ice!"
Reimers hastened homewards, much perturbed in spirit. He was due at the Güntzes' to supper at half-past eight. It had already struck the hour, and he had yet to dress; for the colonel, who would probably be there too, objected to see his officers in mufti, except when shooting or some great sporting occasion was the excuse.
He found everything ready to his hand. Gähler was very satisfactory and most thoughtful, even to setting a bottle of red wine and a carafe of cool spring water on a table. A glass of water with a dash of wine in it was the best thing to quench one's thirst after playing tennis.
He hastily tossed off a glassful. It cooled him wonderfully. He poured out a second and drank it more slowly. The water was so cold as to dew the glass, yet it seemed powerless to quench the fire which consumed his throat, his breast, his head.
He began to dress hurriedly. He had but a few minutes. He was ready but for his coat, when suddenly everything around him seemed to vanish into endless distance. He felt loosed from time and space.
Mechanically he let himself slip into a chair, covering his face with his hands and closing his eyes.
He thought of Hannah von Gropphusen. How beautiful she was! How marvellously beautiful! He thought of that one look she had bestowed on him; of the silent question spoken by her lovely shy eyes. He guessed it to be: "Shall I really be happy once more? Dare I hope it? Is it indeed you who will bring me happiness?" Out of an unfathomable abyss of doubt and misery she appealed to him thus.
How unhappy was this woman! and how beautiful!
The door opened. Gähler came in.
"What do you want?" demanded Reimers.
"Beg pardon, sir," stammered the fellow, "I thought you were ready."
He held in his hand his master's cap and sabre.
"All right, give them to me!"
The lieutenant quickly completed his toilet, and hurried away to Waisenhaus Strasse.
His passion for Frau von Gropphusen increased day by day. He took no pains to combat it. True, his beloved was the wife of another, of a brother-officer; but he did not even in thought desire to draw nearer to her, and, should ever the temptation arise, he believed himself strong enough to resist it.
Indeed, no words passed between them that might not have been overheard by a third party. At their meeting and parting there was no meaning pressure of the hand; only their glances betrayed the secret understanding of a mighty, burning love: the deep sorrow of the one, and the sweet, tender consolation of the other.
Needless to say, the gossips of the garrison were soon busy over such a welcome morsel. Since the Gropphusen's flirtation with Major Schrader a winter ago, she had furnished no cause of scandal. All the busier now were the evil tongues.
It was not long before the subalterns began to make more or less pointed remarks, half jestingly, to Reimers.
Little Dr. von Fröben shook his finger at him, and let fly a solitary shaft: "Aye, aye, still waters run deep!" he said.
Landsberg actually congratulated him. "Happy you!" he cried with mock sorrow, "as for me----" And he proceeded crudely to extol the physical charms of Frau von Gropphusen--"that rattling fine woman," as he called her.
Reimers shut him up sharply.
These attacks ended by opening his eyes to the comparative jejuneness of his own outlook on life.
"You are an extraordinary young idealist," the colonel had said to him not long before; Reimers began to think so too. Concerning a woman whose favours were to be bought, one might think as did Landsberg; but not concerning a lady of social standing. It never occurred to him to think whether Frau von Gropphusen was or was not high-bosomed; he only knew that she was lovely.
He would dearly have liked to knock down that reptile Landsberg. But that would only have caused a scandal, which, for the dear woman's sake, must not be.
He avoided her somewhat. No one should speak ill of her on his account. He absented himself from the tennis-ground, and when he appeared there did not play exclusively with her.
Hannah Gropphusen felt crushed. She did not understand him. What matter if the gossips did amuse themselves at her expense? And with falsehoods, too! She was used to it, and had a sufficiently thick skin not to feel the stings of such insects. Was he going to turn from her for such a reason as this? From her, who would gladly have thrown herself at his feet, saying, "Leave me your love; I only live through you"?
A choking sob clutched at her throat. In order not to feel herself utterly overcome, she went to all the biggest parties, and mingled in the gayest company. She would be talkative and noisy, merely to make him aware of her presence. A wild desire seized her to make him notice her at any cost, even at the risk of wounding him; yes, she wished to wound him.
She flirted outrageously; uttering in shrill, tremulous tones loathsome things which were monstrous in her mouth.
One evening she lingered on the recreation-ground with Reimers and Landsberg, to the latter of whom she, by preference, directed her unnatural merriment during this miserable period--just because she knew that Reimers hated him. And the booby Landsberg was deeply flattered by it.
They were resting a little before turning homewards. Landsberg had thrown himself down on the grass, and was gazing fixedly upwards.
Reimers disapproved of the attitude, thinking it too cavalier altogether, and glowered at him. Unintentionally he followed the direction of his brother-officer's gaze.
Hannah von Gropphusen had seated herself upon a chair, carelessly crossing her legs so that the grey silk stockings were visible from ankle to knee. Presently she became conscious of Landsberg's regard; she moved disdainfully, and slowly rearranged her skirt.
Reimers felt furious. He longed to kick the offending youth. He sprang to his feet. He felt he must break some-thing, destroy something, dash something to pieces. Tremblingly he swung his racquet, as if to hurl it at the fellow's head. But suddenly his arm dropped to his side; he had twisted his wrist. The racquet fell from his hand.
"What's the matter?" asked Frau von Gropphusen.
"Nothing," he answered roughly. "Excuse me, I must say good-night."
He bowed stiffly. All grew dark before his eyes. He saw dimly that the lady had risen.
For a moment she stood perplexed. Then she said in a much softer voice: "But won't you see me home to-night, Herr Reimers?"
"I am at your service," he answered.
Landsberg hastened to take his departure, and the two followed him slowly.
Black clouds lowered overhead; now and then a gust of wind swept over the fields.
Reimers quickened his pace.
Once only Hannah Gropphusen broke the silence: "You have hurt your hand?" she asked.
"Yes--no--I don't know."
It was almost dark when they reached her garden gate.
"Show me your hand," she said gently.
Reimers held it out to her in silence. His wrist was a good deal swollen.
Hannah bent down suddenly and breathed a hasty kiss on the injured member. When she raised her head again tears were running down her cheeks.
Reimers stooped a little. He seized her cool white fingers and kissed them lingeringly. "Hannah!" he murmured.
She tenderly stroked his brow and bent her head sadly. Then he left her.
When he had gone some distance he looked back. All was dark. A flash of lightning shimmered on the horizon. It revealed an indistinct figure, which was instantly swallowed up again by the darkness.
"Nothing much, old man," pronounced the surgeon-major, when he had examined the injury. "You have strained it a bit. A tight bandage and an application of arnica. You can go on duty, but you will not be able to play tennis for the present."
In any case there would have been an end to that, as the order to start for the practice-camp had already been issued.
Reimers learnt from his comrades that Frau von Gropphusen appeared no more at the tennis club. It was said that she was not well and was going away to some watering-place or other. There was much chuckling over the news. "There has been a split," opined the gossips.
Reimers did not care. He knew better.
But the quartette at the supper-table in Waisenhaus Strasse did not seem displeased with the way in which things had turned out.
Formerly, if he came late to supper, and excused himself on the plea of having been detained at tennis, there had been a fatal air of constraint, which would only gradually wear off; sometimes even lasting the whole evening.
Now they received him at once with their old cordiality; they did not believe in his sprain, taking it to be but a convenient pretext. He made as much of it as he could. He showed the swelling; but, to be sure, it had nearly gone down, and he still was not believed.
Finally, an amazing thing happened. Frau Kläre had been taking a turn in the garden one evening with Marie Falkenhein, when she was called in to her baby. On his way out, Reimers encountered the colonel's daughter alone. He said good-night to her politely.
The young girl looked him full in the face with her clear grey eyes, and said: "I am very glad, Lieutenant Reimers, that you have put an end to that hateful gossip. It distressed me, on Frau von Gropphusen's account, and also on yours, to have to hear horrid things said, and not to be able to contradict them."
Reimers bowed and withdrew, in his astonishment forgetting to take leave of Frau Kläre. Marie Falkenhein had spoken so warmly and heartily, had looked at him so kindly and honestly, that he felt quite overcome.
It struck him that the man who should win this maiden for his bride would find through her an assured and tranquil happiness; there was a sense of security in her steady gaze. Yet behind the clear placid eyes of the young girl he saw the sorrowful orbs of the unhappy woman he loved. He saw the heavy tears coursing down her white cheeks, as she stood motionless in the fleeting gleam of the lightning ere she vanished in the darkness of night.
"Now off and away, lads,With merry sound of horn!"(Methfessel.)
"Now off and away, lads,With merry sound of horn!"
(Methfessel.)
The lithographed regimental orders for May 31, the Saturday before Whitsuntide, contained the following announcement:
"On June 3, at 6.30 A.M., the regiment will be ready in the Waisenhaus Strasse to march to the practice-camp in the following order: Batteries 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Corps of trumpeters and band.
* * * * * * * * * *
"On no pretext whatever will leave be granted for Whitsuntide. It is to be duly notified to the troops that their Whitsuntide leave--cancelled for official reasons--may be made good, so far as they deserve it, after the gun-practice.... Night-passes may be granted for Whitsun-Day. (Signed) "VON FALKENHEIN, "Colonel and Commandant."
The news that no leave would be granted for Whitsuntide drew deep curses from many of the recruits. They would have liked to go home and exhibit themselves in uniform to their friends and relations. But what was the good of swearing? they had to submit.
The two friends, Vogt and Klitzing, were much upset in their calculations. They had got on so well together that Vogt had asked his father if he might bring his friend home with him. Still, it was only put off; better luck next time! They did not apply for night-leave on the Sunday, as neither of them found any pleasure in spinning round hot dancing-saloons with any women they could pick up. Weise, on the contrary, was quite at home under such circumstances, and had managed to find himself a sweetheart directly permission was granted the recruits to go into the town. It is true she was neither pretty nor particularly youthful; but then she never failed to pay for all his drinks, and when he had promised to marry her she had even bought him new regimentals.
Vogt had taken a favourable opportunity of begging Sergeant Wiegandt to put him and Klitzing together, when, on the completion of their preliminary training, the men were grouped into detachments. Wiegandt had not only acceded to the request, but had taken them both to serve on his own gun, the sixth; Klitzing, with his sharp eyes, as gun-layer, or No. 2; Vogt as No. 1, whose duty it was to fire.
And now they sat, this Whitsun-Tuesday, side by side on the gun-carriage, with the muzzle of the gun between them; and when Wegstetten called out in his clear, strident voice, "Battery, mount!" Vogt whispered gaily across to Klitzing, "Now we're off!" as the long procession of thirty-six guns and six ammunition-waggons began slowly to move.
It was not half bad to be riding along like this. Certainly, the gunners' seats were not provided with cushions, and the guns were not mounted on C-springs; but the shaking and jolting were not very great on the smooth high-road, it was only when the wheels crunched over newly-strewn rubble that their seats vibrated roughly under them.
There had, fortunately, been a heavy thundershower on the previous afternoon, and it had washed the roads clear of dust. Now the sun shone mildly, the air was fresh after the rain; what could be better than to get out into the country on such a day? Vogt and Klitzing rolled along contentedly on their hard-seated chariot, between the white-blossoming cherry-trees which bordered the highway.
Their halting place for the night was a large farm, where were quartered the fifth and sixth guns and the ammunition waggon, one sergeant, one trumpeter, two corporals, twenty-one men, and twenty horses. The farmer's entertainment left nothing to be desired. The litter for the beds was thick and soft; clean sheets were laid over the straw; and there were warm blankets for covering. For supper there were two gigantic hams and many other dainties, a meal for the gods; and the noble peasant had even provided beer and cigars. The second day's march had a no less successful ending. Vogt and Klitzing were quartered together on a cottager, and though the poor fellow did not even own a cow, the older men proved right who had told them that the poor were generally better hosts than the rich.
On the third day the regiment was to arrive at the practice camp. The country now became more level. The black soil gradually lightened in tint; green copses gave place to pine-woods; stretches of barren sandy waste land appeared more and more frequently between the cornfields. At last a flat table-land was reached, bounded in the far distance by an immense forest; and on a still nearer approach isolated white houses could be descried on the forest's edge, while on one side a tall water-tower reared itself high above the level ground.
Captain von Wegstetten ordered his men to halt and dismount. The sixth battery had arrived the first.
Further back along the road just traversed and also on a neighbouring highway the other batteries were seen slowly approaching. At length the commandants of the two divisions arrived with their adjutants, and finally the colonel with his staff. He received the reports of the staff-officers, and then after a short interval placed himself at the head of his regiment.
The long line of men, horses and vehicles, with the band preceding them, then entered the encampment. The sentry at the gate had to present arms so incessantly that he became quite exhausted. A considerable time elapsed before the last officer had passed in.
The guns and carriages were taken to the gun-park. The horses were unharnessed, and the knapsacks unfastened from the guns. Then the drivers made their way to the stables, and the gunners to their barracks. The quartermaster had pointed out his place to every one, so that each man had only to take possession of his cupboard and his bed.
The young soldiers, who had never been in camp before, gazed about with much interest. Things, on the whole, looked very inviting. A wide road with broad footpaths on either side traversed the whole camp, almost further than the eye could see, and along it stood the barracks on the left, and the stables on the right. The houses were all alike; in the middle a square one-storied building, and running out from it a wing containing lofty, airy rooms for the men, open to the wooden rafters that supported the slated roof. At the back were covered verandas, in which, during bad weather, instruction could be carried on and the roll called. Beyond these outbuildings began the outskirts of the wood, beautiful stately pines growing thick and close. The resinous scent of pine-needles was wafted into the rooms through the open windows.
"Heinrich," said Vogt to Klitzing, "this is just like a summer holiday for us, isn't it? Isn't this air splendid?"
The clerk stopped his unpacking for a moment and drew in a deep breath of the invigorating odour.
"Oh yes," he answered; "we can do with this all right!"
However, it was not a "summer holiday" by any means, and the two friends found that out soon enough. There was a lot of real hard work to do during these weeks; but it was all done with a good will. Actual gun-practice was a very different thing from that dull work in garrison with blank cartridges.
The magazine where the ammunition was stored lay at some little distance from the other buildings, near the gun-park, and was surrounded by a thick high wall of earth. One realised from this how dangerous were its contents. But the store-men, who gave out the shrapnel-shells and the fuses, went about their work as if regardless of the fact that in each one of these lurked death and destruction. And yet in every shrapnel-shell were a couple of hundred bullets that could easily put a whole companyhors de combat.
The beginning of the gun-practice did not, however, seem likely to be very dangerous. Only twenty-four shrapnel,i.e., six shots for each gun, were given out next morning. It was a first experience, meant especially for the younger officers, and Lieutenant Landsberg was to command the battery.
The men were very curious to know what he would make of it. The affected young dandy was extremely unpopular with every one. Besides which, he was clearly not blessed with much intelligence; for at garrison-drill more reproofs and reprimands were showered upon him alone than upon all the rest of the battery put together. Again and again would Wegstetten's trumpet-tones ring across the parade-ground: "Lieutenant Landsberg, you are not in your right place!" "Lieutenant Landsberg, you are allowing too much distance!" The little captain had sworn many a fierce oath as he galloped to and fro on his long-legged "Walküre": "Lieutenant Landsberg! attention, please. What in thunder are you about?" or "Good God, sir! don't go to sleep! Time's getting on!"
And to-day he was to command the whole battery. Wegstetten took the precaution of accompanying the young man himself, so that he might be able to come to the rescue in case of necessity.
He was soon needed. The battery started from the gun-park and left the camp, turning off the road and crossing the heather towards the broad level stretch of the exercise-ground.
Suddenly Landsberg's snapping voice crowed out: "Battery, halt!" and immediately afterwards: "Open with shrapnel!"
The men grinned at one another.
Two or three of the gunners got down and stood there, quite at a loss. They ought to load; yet the word of command, "Prepare for action!" had not been given. And how could they load when the seats and the limber-boxes were still locked, and when the gun was still covered?
The clever lieutenant had forgotten the word of command that should properly have been given before leaving the gun-park. And the best of it was that he didn't even now notice what was wrong.
Wegstetten, close at hand, kept quite still. He had taken his feet out of the stirrups and was swinging his short legs carelessly to and fro. His eyes flashed scorn as he looked at the hapless lieutenant.
"Well, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "if I were one of the men myself I shouldn't know what to do either."
The lieutenant raised his spotlessly gloved hand to his helmet and replied, "Yes, sir." But as yet no solution of the riddle had dawned on him.
Then at last the captain sat upright in his saddle, and his clear voice rang out over the battery: "Prepare for action!"
It put life into the men at once, and all set about their various duties with the utmost zeal.
Wegstetten turned to the subaltern, who stood stupidly looking on, and said, "Well, Lieutenant Landsberg, you may take over the command again now."
Truchsess, the brewer, as No. 4 of gun six, brought out the shrapnel very gingerly. How easily such stuff as that might go off!
The old hands had gruesome tales to tell of accidents that had happened during gun-practice. Once while being loaded, a gun had prematurely exploded backwards, making a great hole through gunner No. 3, right through his chest, a hole just the same size as the bore of the gun. As the corpse was being carried away afterwards the sun shone right through it; so that in the middle of the shadow cast by the body was a bright round spot exactly the same size and shape as the bore of a gun.
The brewer could not help thinking of this as he very cautiously pushed the shrapnel into the bore. Klitzing, however, shoved it vigorously with the rammer, so that its metal casing clinked against the inside of the gun.
"Now then, old fellow, easy on! The thing might go off!" whispered Truchsess.
But Klitzing only smiled, and the brewer sullenly thought to himself, "Well, if that clerk has no use for his life, I have for mine, anyhow!"
Carefully he pushed in the cartridge, and heaved a sigh of relief as the lock slipped back once more. At any rate, it couldn't explode at the back now and hit him.
The battery now started again and went on at an easy trot to the exercise-ground. In the midst of a luxuriant growth of heather they unlimbered. It was a wonderful picture, the guns and the scattered gunners on that peaceful sea of purple. The waves of blossom reached nearly to the axles of the blue wheels and above the knees of the men, and closed over the trail of the gun-carriage as it passed. The men had to make their way through the heather almost as if it had been a wood.
"Open with shrapnel! Straight in front! At the battery before the guide-post at the edge of the wood. Third gun! Two thousand eight hundred!" commanded Lieutenant Landsberg. "Fire from left flank! Fire from left flank!"--that meant that gun six should begin; that of the whole regiment it was to have the honour of firing the first shot in this year's practice.
Klitzing, as gun-layer, set the sight in a twinkling to 2800 yards, got astride the box, and laid the gun in the right direction.
The enemy's battery was not very hard to find. The young officer had not been given too difficult a task. Far away over the heath, where the sand gleamed yellow in the distance, six dark, rather broad patches showed up against the light ground, each surrounded by smaller objects. They were the six guns that were to be attacked, with the dummy men belonging to them. It was Sergeant Wiegandt's duty to verify the aim; he gave a satisfied nod, and then the word of command, "Gun six, fire!"
Upon which the men sprang out of the way of the backward recoil of the carriage, and Vogt, with a jerk of the body, pulled the lanyard and fired.
There was a loud report, and the gun rolled heavily back quite eight paces. In another moment it was moved into its original place again.
After a few seconds, far away on the heath, a light cloud of dust rose into the air, as if a giant's hand had stirred up the sand, and immediately afterwards--almost at the same moment--all the dark patches disappeared in a dense grey cloud of smoke. When this had cleared away, the dummies on the left of the gun had vanished, and the gun itself appeared to have been damaged, as it was leaning over on one side.
The first shot had hit the mark full. This simply showed that excellent aim had been taken. The actual distance had corresponded exactly with the calculation. Still, it caused great satisfaction.
Colonel von Falkenhein, on his big chestnut, was stationed near by. He had been watching the target through his field-glasses, and a scarcely audible exclamation had escaped him as he saw the splinters flying about through the smoke.
Turning to the battery he called out a short "Bravo, gun-layer!"
Wegstetten, who had dismounted near him, smiled. Well, at any rate, battery six was all right, even when commanded by a noodle!
The shooting went on steadily. Now the distance had been ascertained the shrapnels were fired off by means of time-fuses; and they exploded regularly each time over the mark, the little clouds of smoke showing up picturesquely against the dark background of the wood. Over there it was as if heavy raindrops were falling on a dusty road; everywhere little columns of sand were spurting up into the air.
After the first shot the men lost all nervousness. Even Truchsess took hold of the shells quite courageously; and when the twenty-four that had been served out to them were used up, the men would willingly have gone on longer.
In the criticism of the result Landsberg came out well. He had had four good hits from one shrapnel--a very fair result; mainly due, of course, to the luck of the first shot, which by itself would have placed all the men belonging to one of the enemy's gunshors de combat.
The lieutenant's face took on a self-satisfied expression, which seemed to say: "Of course from me nothing less could have been expected."
Falkenhein, who always kept a watchful eye on each one of his officers, and who up to that moment had not heard much in favour of this young man, thought it best to take down his pride a little.
"You know, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, "your commanding officer made things very easy for you. As the youngest officer in the regiment you had the lightest task. Remember that in taking credit to yourself; and let me tell you that they won't build such barn-doors for you to aim at next year!"
Upon which he turned pleasantly to Wegstetten and asked: "Did you ride over and see that target, my dear Wegstetten?--I mean the one that was hit full?"
"Yes, sir; the shrapnel must have exploded almost inside the gun."
"I thought so. Capital thing, the very first shot of the year being such a good one. No one like you for that, Wegstetten!"
The captain smiled, much gratified, and modestly answered, "A bit of good luck, sir!"
But the colonel continued, more seriously: "Well, partly luck, perhaps. Just one thing more, my dear Wegstetten. That gun-layer who made the lucky shot--has he been ill? He looked pretty bad to me--like a perfect death's-head."
Wegstetten gave as many particulars about the man as he himself knew, and Reimers added some information, Landsberg meanwhile standing by in silence.
"It is really you, Lieutenant Landsberg, who ought to be telling me all this," said Falkenhein with some warmth. "You trained the recruits, and therefore ought to know all about them." Then, turning to Wegstetten: "If the man is as capable as I hear," he continued, "you might manage to make things a bit easier for him."
"Yes, sir," the captain hastened to reply. "I had been thinking of employing him in the autumn as assistant clerk."
This was not true. To think of such details so long beforehand was impossible, even for the commander of the most efficient battery in the whole army-corps. But it served its purpose. Falkenhein nodded pleasantly: "Quite right, my dear Wegstetten. You have hit the bull's-eye again! You see one can never deal with men all in a lump; you must take them separately. Some best serve the king with their sturdy arms and legs, but your gun-layer with his eyes and pen." He then raised his hand to his helmet, and the two men parted.
As they all repaired to their respective quarters they had very different thoughts in their minds. Reimers was full of admiration: "What a man is that," thought he, "who, with all his heavy duties, yet occupies himself with the insignificant destiny of a poor devil of a gunner!"
Wegstetten's face wore a rather self-satisfied smile. "One must speak up for oneself, and not hide one's light under a bushel! Better say too much than too little. In doing one's superior officer a small service, one may be doing the greatest of all to oneself."
Landsberg said to himself, with a sneer: "The man prates about that whipper-snapper of a gunner nearly as much as about my splendid firing. And so that's the celebrated Colonel von Falkenhein!"