During the exercises one morning the captain came riding up to the sergeant-major.
"You must go back home at once, Heimert," he cried. "The major wants the regulations that were in force at the last manœuvres. Look them out, and send them over to the division at once, will you?"
"Now, at once?" asked Heimert.
"Yes, yes! Make haste and get them!"
The sergeant-major hastened back to the barracks. With helmet on head and sword by his side he set off at once on the quest. He gave Käppchen the regulations to carry over to the orderly-room of the division, and he himself returned home.
In the bedroom he found Albina and the barber together.
The shameless woman had felt so secure that she had not even troubled to bolt the door.
Her gallant lover disappeared through the window like a shot.
Albina was not so quick. Heimert seized hold of her and dragged her through the doorway just as she was, clad only in a dressing-jacket and a thin petticoat.
The jacket tore in his hands. Then he seized her by her thick hair. She screamed, but he pushed her before him down the passage.
A heavy riding-whip was hanging on a nail; as he passed he tore it down, and the leathern thong descended in furious blows on the woman's head, and on her bare shoulders and bosom.
She gave a loud yell of pain. The few men who had remained away from the exercises came running, and stared open-mouthed. The whip made deep red marks on the smooth skin, and the shrieks of the woman became more and more piercing. But Heimert drove her down the steps into the barrack-yard. She stumbled, and lost a shoe. No matter! on she must go!
If she stopped for a moment the whip lashed round her feet, her ankles, her knees. She cowered, shrieking. With outstretched arms she tried to parry the blows. Her husband pulled her upright; she staggered, but was again dragged along by her hair under the pressure of that remorseless hand. The blood ran from her shoulders, but the blows still rained down like hail.
At last, on reaching the back gate the iron grip was loosened. One last furious stroke tore her garments and dyed the white linen red. She stood there for a moment, with bleeding hands pressed to her head, with shut eyes and trembling knees.
Suddenly she realised that she was free, and with wild leaps she fled towards the forest. On the slope of the hill she turned. Her bare skin gleamed in the bright sunshine, and her dishevelled hair hung down over her brow. She shook her naked arms with furious gestures towards the sergeant-major, and screamed a hideous curse in his face. Then she disappeared into the wood.
Heimert looked after her with a dull expression of countenance, till no trace of her white garments was to be seen among the green bushes. Then he returned home with firm footsteps.
Wegstetten gave orders that the sergeant-major should not be disturbed that day. Under such circumstances a man had better be left to himself. But when Heimert did not put in an appearance next morning, Käppchen was sent to look him up.
The battery-clerk came back much disturbed, and announced: "Excuse me, sir, I think the sergeant-major's gone mad."
"Mad? You are mad yourself, man!" was the captain's reply; and he went in person to the sergeant-major's quarters.
Heimert was sitting at the table, his little wooden guns and horsemen before him. With smiling looks he was drilling them, giving the words of command in a soft voice.
He did not seem to recognise the commander of his battery, but gazed stupidly at Wegstetten when he spoke to him.
"Don't you know me, sergeant-major?" asked the captain.
Heimert smiled at him, and pointed to the little horses.
"I ask you, Sergeant-major Heimert, don't you know your captain?" demanded Wegstetten once more.
The sergeant-major shook his head, grinning. Then he set to work again, and the guns were made to advance, each at an equal distance from the other, with the leaders of the columns and the mounted men all in their places.
Heimert was taken to the lunatic asylum of the district. In general he was a very manageable patient, and it was only if a woman approached him that he began to rave. His greatest delight was to play with some wooden toys that were given him,--mimic guns and mounted soldiers of all descriptions.
Das_Gamze_--_halt!
Shortly before Christmas Senior-lieutenant Güntz was promoted to be captain, and was placed in command of the fifth battery,viceCaptain Mohr, discharged from the service for incompetence.
New brooms sweep clean, and Güntz set to work with ardour at the difficult task of bringing order and efficiency into the neglected troop. By means of stringent discipline, and even severity, he succeeded in this more easily than he himself had expected, and soon began to notice with satisfaction that his labour was gradually bearing fruit.
After a time the fifth battery could be ranged alongside the pattern fourth and sixth batteries. Major Schrader rubbed his hands cheerfully: to have three such excellent officers commanding batteries in one division at the same time was indeed unusual good fortune, and he well knew how to make use of them.
At the spring inspection he received a string of compliments at least a yard long from the commander of the brigade, and in his joy showered thanks upon Güntz for having helped him to achieve such a success. Güntz himself was greatly pleased that the inspection had gone so smoothly. He had not been sure that this would be so, as he did not feel his battery quite well enough in hand even yet.
"Yes, it went off tolerably, didn't it, sir?" he replied modestly.
"Faultlessly! faultlessly!" said the major.
"Well, sir, it was partly good luck. The officer in command of a battery is right in the middle of it all, and sees lots of things which look as if they might go wrong. Then some happy accident occurs, and the situation is saved."
The major, however, seemed to have something more on his mind, and stood stroking his whiskers in embarrassment.
"Certainly, certainly," he answered. "A man must have good luck, or he will have bad! But your merit is there all the same, my dear Güntz."
And then he continued, rather haltingly: "And therefore, you know, it is all the more painful to me. But there is something more behind. These superior officers never seem to give unstinted praise."
Güntz's hand went up to his helmet, and he said, in a level voice: "Of course I am at your orders, sir."
"No, no, my dear Güntz," said Schrader, deprecatingly; "the colonel is kind enough to undertake the unpleasant part of my duty for me, and I am glad of it; for it would have been very much against the grain with me. Well, well! just you go quietly to the colonel, and don't worry about it at all. Thank you, my dear Güntz. Good morning, good morning!"
He turned towards his quarters, and from the steps nodded in friendly fashion to the captain.
Güntz did feel a little anxious about the interview which lay before him. He was conscious of having performed his duty to the best of his ability. But heaven knows what commanding officers won't sometimes get their backs up about!
Colonel von Falkenhein received him very cordially.
"My dear friend," he said, "I congratulate you! You could not have wished for a betterdébutas the youngest officer in command of a battery."
"Thank you very much, sir," replied Güntz; and then went straight to the point about the mysterious affair. His curiosity was surely pardonable.
"Excuse me, sir," he continued, "Major Schrader informs me that----"
Falkenhein interrupted him: "Yes, quite right. You will take it to heart, but you must know that our esteemed brigadier has still somethingin petto. As you have heard, he was highly satisfied with your direction of your battery to-day; but he considers that in regard to discipline you do not seem to be quite at home yet in your new position."
This was just what Güntz had not expected. He had imagined his best work to have been precisely in this direction.
Falkenhein smiled at his puzzled look as he asked for further explanation, and shrugging his shoulders went on: "Yes, so the general said, But, my dear Güntz, I have only formally repeated this to you as I was commanded to do so. Now let us talk it over as colleagues. I can understand your astonishment, and you will soon be more puzzled than ever. The reason the general gives for his strictures is that there has been so much punishment in your battery--more than double as much as in the fourth and the sixth together."
Güntz restrained a gesture of impatient surprise. This was rather beyond a joke!
"But, sir," he said, "you know under what circumstances I took command!"
"Know? why, of course I do!" answered Falkenhein; "and of course I explained to him. But he regarded my description as exaggerated. I may tell you in confidence that he belongs to the very clique who managed to keep Mohr in the service so long. And he regards his opinion as infallible--namely, that too many punishments in a troop are the consequence of a lack of discipline. He considers that a certain similarity in the punishment-registers of the batteries should be aimed at unconditionally. Otherwise unfavourable conclusions as to the capability of individual captains must be drawn, he says."
Güntz was honestly indignant, and when anything struck him as unjust, it never mattered to him in whose presence he was; he must speak his mind, even to his colonel.
"Pardon me, sir," he began, "but the general has surely lost sight of the fact that for similar results similar previous conditions are necessary. I consider, with all respect, that even in normal batteries the material on which we have to work is different; and that in the very same battery perhaps the new year's recruits may effect an enormous difference in the punishment-register. To say nothing of such circumstances as there were in my case. If my punishment-register werenotgreater than those of the fourth and sixth batteries, then that would reflect unfavourably upon me. And I most respectfully hope that it is not a more important matter to the general to receive punishment-registers of the same length, than that the discipline of a battery should suffer." Almost out of breath, he added! "Pardon me, sir, I beg!"
Falkenhein had become very serious.
"I take nothing you have said amiss, my dear Güntz," he replied. "I cannot but admit that you are perfectly right. And exactly what you have just argued I myself said very plainly to the general, very plainly indeed. He became damnably cold to me at the end of it."
The colonel paused, and smiled a little to himself as he thought over the conversation. The general had been nearly bursting with rage, and would not have permitted such opposition from any one else to go unpunished. But Falkenhein was a recognised favourite of the old monarch; he had been the king's hunting-companion for days together, and was surer in his position than even the general in his. So he could not cut up too rough.
"Nevertheless," continued the colonel more cheerfully, "he regarded it as desirable that a greater similarity should gradually be obtained."
Güntz answered firmly: "Forgive me, sir, I cannot promise the general this in anticipation. I could not bring it into harmony with my conception of the duty of an officer."
"Good," answered Falkenhein. "You have given me that answer as your friend and colleague. As your commander, I have perfect confidence that you will do all you can that is useful and desirable for the king's service, and that in this sense you will accede to the general's wish."
Güntz bowed, and answered: "Certainly, sir."
In the orderly-room he asked the sergeant-major whether Zampa had been exercised that day.
"Not yet, sir."
"Then please have him saddled, and I will take him out for a little myself."
He rode down towards the valley. Yonder on the left among the fresh green plantations lay the pistol-practice ground, on which a few months ago his duel with Lieutenant Landsberg had taken place. He thought less of that episode itself than of the night before it, during which he had written down his reasons for contemplating resignation.
To-day he felt himself enriched by a fresh argument.
Deuce take it! Was not this passion for similarity enough to madden one? Must everything be tainted by this damned, regular, grinding drill, this parade-march sort of principle? Must things everywhere run smoothly and according to rule, just in order that the authorities might be convinced of the excellence of the whole system?
So even the punishment-register should be carefully edited! No one must lift his head above his fellows! It was really laughable. Teachers might have bad pupils; but it seemed to be against the rules for the captain of a battery to have bad soldiers in his troop!
Luckily for him, he happened to be in very favourable circumstances. He had a colonel who stood up for him, and who could dare to express a difference of opinion from his superior officer, because he himself chanced to be in the good books of the king. So that this affair would pass by all right and do nobody any harm. But what would have happened if the colonel himself had felt uncertain of his position? Would he have found the moral courage to oppose his influential superior, even if only by a modest remonstrance? Would he not rather, for the sake of his career, have said, merely: "Certainly, sir!"
And then the pressure would have gone on downwards; and among a hundred captains there were certainly but few who, in the struggle between their better knowledge and their future career, would remain true to their convictions. Most of them would bring the punishment-register up to the "desirable" regularity, and just do as best they could with the bad elements in their batteries: the men who sneered at all discipline, and whom nevertheless their captain dared not punish properly; who spoilt the good soldiers, and increased the dislike of the reservists for the service. Otherwise the punishment-register might exceed the average demanded, and "that would cause unfavourable conclusions as to the discipline of the battery and the capability of the captain."
Güntz rode slowly back along the grassy lane. He looked around him. Yonder the white walls of the barracks gleamed in the sunshine; a fresh wind gently shook the budding branches, and all around everything was sprouting, filled with the vigour of youth. He guided his horse carefully round a patch of primroses, which covered the whole width of the path with a sheet of yellow blossoms.
He bade dull care begone. Could he not at any time quit the service directly he became convinced of its ineffectiveness? To-day's experience was simply a fresh weight in the scales of his doubt.
He had once more determined to apply all his strength to the solution of a problem, which had been in his mind even at the time of his employment in Berlin.
There seemed to him no doubt that the French field-artillery with its anti-recoil construction had gained a great advantage over all other armies; an advantage which could only be prejudiced if the utility of the invention were proved on the field of battle to be less than was expected. Up to the present time the French gun-carriage had only been tested on a small scale in peace manœuvres, and it had not been absolutely demonstrated that its construction would stand the continuous high pressure of a campaign. He was now absorbed in a scheme for simplifying and strengthening the anti-recoil attachments in such a way that they would keep in working order under the severest test. And at the same time he had been directing his attention to the steel shields used in the French field-artillery for the protection of the men who served the guns. German military authorities were for the most part opposed to the introduction of this method of protection; but the shield seemed to him very worthy of adoption. In the battles of the future the percentage of probable losses must be computed quite mathematically; and it would be a great advantage if, by virtue of the shield, a large number of the combatants could be considered safe. The opponents of the measure gave it as their opinion that the men would shirk quitting the protection of the shield; or that, at any rate, they would take aim so hurriedly that their accuracy must necessarily suffer. Well, one might equally well argue that the infantry would refuse to leave their trenches. The other objection was more convincing: shooting would become too difficult if this steel shield were associated with the anti-recoil construction. It was a question of mobility; therefore Güntz set to work to find out some method of lightening the gun. Why should the gun-carriage be loaded with such a large quantity of ammunition as was customary--more, probably, than would ever be needed? He was constructing the model of a carriage in which the quantity of ammunition carried was to be diminished by one-third; so that the extra weight of the anti-recoil construction and the steel shield should be more than counterbalanced.
When he was in Berlin he had gone into the details of his invention with the head of a large Rhenish gun-foundry. This man proposed that Güntz should send in his resignation and enter the service of the firm at a handsome salary. Güntz at that time was not prepared to decide in the matter; but at the close of the interview the manager had said: "Who knows? perhaps we shall see each other again."
Had the man been right?
In any case, Güntz felt strong enough to make his own way through life.
The servant took his horse from him at the garden gate.
"Well, did it go off all right?" asked Kläre.
The captain answered, "Yes, first-rate." He did not conceal the "but," however. The calm good sense of his wife always helped him to test his own impressions. Kläre was, indeed, a woman whose like was not to be found in the whole world; a woman who had been created just for him.
She had her own methods in everything. If, at dinner, her husband were worried with thoughts of the black sheep in his battery, and would keep introducing such topics at their comfortable board, then she would snub him quite severely. But when he came to her with his real doubts and anxieties she was ever ready to comfort and advise him. She knew all about his plan of testing himself for a year in the command of a battery; and sometimes she was inclined to advise him to shorten the period of probation. She was shrewd enough to foresee that within a year and a day he would have discarded his officer's uniform.
Lieutenant Reimers continued as hitherto to be a welcome guest in the Güntz household.
He had realised that his frequent visits were in no way a bother to his friend; and when Frau Kläre, with the amiability of a careful hostess, considered his little idiosyncrasies of taste, he could but protest feebly: "Really, dear lady, you spoil me too much! What shall I do if, for instance, I have to go to the Staff College next year?"
To Güntz he once said, "I must say that in contemplating you and your wife, one realises what a half-man a bachelor is."
The stout captain laughed good-naturedly.
"Kläre," he shouted to his wife, who was just coming into the room, "it appears that I wasn't making a mistake when I chose you for my wife."
"How's that, my Fatty?" asked his wife.
"Reimers has just been saying that the sight of our wedded life gives him an appetite for matrimony. What do you say to that?"
"A very sensible remark, Herr Reimers," laughed Kläre.
Reimers blushed a little and rejoined: "Well, then, I shall soon go bride-hunting. For your advice is always good, dear lady."
"Now then, flatterer!" growled Güntz. "Don't make my wife conceited."
But when Reimers had bidden them good-bye he said to Kläre: "I really believe it would be a most sensible thing for Reimers to marry; he is not the sort to become a mere mess-house or tavernhabitué. He ought to go about and study the daughters of our country a little."
"Why go about? There's good enough near at hand," said Frau Kläre.
The captain looked up: "Eh?"
Smilingly his wife pointed over her shoulder to the neighbouring villa.
"Marie Falkenhein?" asked Güntz.
Frau Kläre nodded.
"You don't want to earn a match-maker's reward, do you, now?" inquired her husband.
"Oh, Fatty, darling! don't you know me better than that?" his wife protested. "No, no, nothing of the sort! But seriously, I do mean that those two young people would suit each other very well. With regard to Marie, I know positively this much, she thinks Reimers very nice; and that is, at any rate, something to go on, until our dear Reimers opens his eyes."
"But let him open them quite by himself, please; no assistance, I do beg!" the captain interrupted.
"Of course, Fatty, quite by himself."
"But, Kläre, how about that episode of the Gropphusen? That was a bit off the rails, wasn't it?"
"Nothing of the kind. Nothing but a mere passing flirtation."
Güntz shook his head thoughtfully.
"No, Kläre," he replied. "I understand Reimers. He would never have anything to do with mere passing flirtations. It is just the dear fellow's misfortune that he takes everything so damned seriously. It went pretty deep with him that time with the Gropphusen; you can believe me as to that."
"Still, one does not cling for all eternity to such a useless sort of business."
Güntz was not quite convinced.
"Well, we must hope not," he said. "And, really, the two would suit each other excellently."
Walking up and down the room he continued: "Yes, in all respects. Reimers has an income of about seventy thousand marks, and the colonel would certainly be able to give his daughter a bit of money without having to pinch himself. I should say about twenty thousand. True, he is no Crœsus; but then he will soon be made a general. Our dear Reimers will have to keep his passion for books in check. Yes, yes! The thing would answer admirably."
He stood still and knocked the ash off his cigar.
"Why are you laughing, you sly little woman?" he asked, glancing down at her.
"How funny you are, Fatty!" Kläre answered. "You accuse me quite sternly of the worst intentions, and then you make plan after plan, and even begin to reckon up their joint income!"
But Güntz parried the accusation gallantly:
"Just another compliment for you, my Kläre. Only happy couples try to bring about other marriages."
A short time afterwards, without any prompting from the Güntzes, Reimers said to his stout friend: "Güntz, doesn't it strike you that Mariechen Falkenhein is a very nice girl?"
Güntz leant back in his chair reflectively, and answered: "A nice girl? how do you mean? Certainly she has a pretty face, her eyes are especially sweet, and she has a good figure. Just a little too slight. For my taste, of course I mean."
"No," replied Reimers, "I don't mean that so much. Certainly she is pretty. But, after all, that's a secondary matter. I mean more the effect of her personality. There seems to be something so sure, so comfortable, so restful about her. Don't you think so?"
"Well, you know, I have not made such detailed observations. But I daresay you are right. And I should say that she will make a splendid wife some day. Quick and accurate, without a trace of superficiality, with a strong instinct for housewifely order; a simple, clear, shrewd intellect--the man who wins her for his wife will be a lucky fellow!"
Reimers unconsciously drew himself up a little, and he said doubtfully:
"But surely she is still much too young."
"Not a bit," replied Güntz. "She will be eighteen in the autumn, and she is not even engaged yet. And after that there would be the betrothal time of the educated European--not less than six months. Well, that would bring her nearly up to twenty, and at twenty a woman in our geographical area is quite eligible for marriage."
Reimers appeared to meditate upon this. Finally, however, he only replied by a prolonged "H'm," and dropped the subject.
But the ladies of the regiment had soon a fresh subject for gossip. Lieutenant Reimers was paying his addresses to Marie Falkenhein. There was no doubt that his intentions were serious. Well, he had no rivals to fear. Falkenhein was poor every one knew that. He could have very little income beyond his pay. And his daughter? Oh, yes, she was a pretty, graceful creature; but she was not brilliantly beautiful, and therefore could not have any very great expectations. No question of anything beyond just a suitable and satisfactory marriage in the service.
From this time onward the matter was almost regarded as settled; and in the garrison gossip Marie von Falkenhein and Lieutenant Reimers were soon spoken of as though their betrothal had been already announced.
Naturally the interesting news was eagerly carried to Frau von Gropphusen, and she was narrowly watched for the effect of the communication; but nothing could be detected. No flinching, no pauses in the conversation, no alteration in the expression of her face or of her voice. What a pity that there was no theatre in the town, when they so thoroughly enjoyed such little dramas!
Hannah Gropphusen did not discontinue her visits to Frau Güntz. She came neither more rarely nor more frequently. She seemed to have regained self-control.
Frau Kläre's birthday was celebrated in the arbour of the Falkenheins' garden, by the secondMaibowleof the season. They had drunk to the health of the birthday-queen, and were just sitting down again when there was the tinkle of a bicycle-bell outside in the street. The soft sound of the quick wheels came nearer, and just in front of the garden there was the thud of a light pair of feet jumping to the ground.
A clear voice, which would have sounded merry, but that for the moment it seemed a little breathless, called up to the arbour: "Hurrah! hurrah! And for the third time hurrah! Can one get anything to drink here?"
Güntz hurried to the balustrade.
"My dear lady!" he exclaimed astonished. "Certainly you can! There's still lots left."
He turned round: "Pardon me, sir, but here's Frau von Gropphusen."
Falkenhein went quickly to his side: "Do give us the pleasure of your company, dear Frau von Gropphusen. I will have your bicycle taken in at once."
He went to the gate and conducted Frau von Gropphusen to the arbour. Güntz had already placed a chair at the table for her and poured out a glass ofMaibowle.
"Who rides so late through night and wind?" asked Kläre merrily, holding out her hand cordially to the new arrival.
Hannah Gropphusen greeted the festive circle with a bright smile, and replied: "Do forgive me, Colonel von Falkenhein. The lights and the festivity in your arbour were too inviting." She raised her glass, and drank to Kläre Güntz: "To your happiness, dear Frau Kläre, from the bottom of my heart."
"I have been delayed at Frau von Stuckardt's," she then said; "or, rather, Frau von Stuckardt would not let me leave."
"Stuckardt told me," interrupted the colonel, "that his wife was not well."
"Yes, she has got the old pain in her face back again, which no doctor can relieve, and that was why I had to stay so long. I had to keep my hands on her cheeks. She says I have soothing hands and can do her good."
Reimers looked across at her. She was sitting a little in the shadow, so that her white straw hat and light blouse stood out distinctly. On her bosom sparkled a small diamond. Only the tip of her foot was visible in the lamplight, a beautiful, narrow, elegantly-shod foot, which was swinging rapidly backwards and forwards.
To avoid catching her eye, Reimers turned to Marie Falkenhein, his neighbour. TheMaibowlehad got into his head a little. He chatted away cheerfully, the young girl listening with flushed cheeks and radiant eyes, and answering laughingly from time to time. They neither of them noticed that meanwhile Frau von Gropphusen had emptied her glass and was preparing to go.
"Many thanks," she said. "I was nearly fainting. TheMaibowlehas done me good. But it's getting late; I must go home."
"Of course they are expecting you at home?" asked Falkenhein.
Hannah Gropphusen laughed rather bitterly.
"Expecting me?" she replied. "Who? Oh no, I don't suppose my husband is at home. But pray, colonel, don't punish him for that!"
This was rather painful. However, Frau von Gropphusen afterwards said good-bye to them so simply and naturally that no one thought anything more about it.
The colonel accompanied her to the gate, and the four in the arbour went over to the balustrade. Güntz had put his arm tenderly round Frau Kläre, and Reimers was standing beside Marie Falkenhein. They watched Hannah Gropphusen mount her bicycle and ride slowly away. She turned round in the saddle, waved her right hand, and shouted out a laughing "Good-night."
A little further along she looked back, and the white-gloved hand waved again, but they could no longer distinguish her features.
Then the rushing wheels disappeared in the darkness.
Frau von Gropphusen rode quietly home.
The servant was waiting at the door. He took the machine from her, asking if she would take tea.
"No," she answered. "I have had it. You can clear the things away."
She threw herself on the couch in her room just as she was, in her bicycling costume. She drew up the rug and wrapped herself in it.
And Hannah Gropphusen lay thus till far into the night, staring with wide-open eyes into the darkness of the room.
A few days later Marie Falkenhein came through the garden gate to Kläre Güntz's house.
"Kläre," she said, "I am going into the town to inquire after Frau von Stuckardt. Would you like me to call in at the chemist's and tell him he is to send you the sugar-of-milk for the baby?"
Frau Kläre took stock of the young girl, and shook her finger at her laughingly.
"Mariechen! Mariechen!" she said. "I never would have believed you could become such an accomplished hypocrite, my child."
Marie turned crimson.
"Yes, yes," continued Kläre. "Because you have heard me call vanity a vice, you were ashamed to show off your new dress and hat to me. But you hadn't quite the heart to pass by your old friend's house. Isn't that the way of it?"
The young girl nodded, her face scarlet.
Kläre stroked her cheek caressingly, and went on: "You silly little goose! But really, you know, when one's as pretty as you are, a little vanity is excusable. And now tell me, where in the world did you get these things?"
"Oh, Kläre," replied the girl, "not here, of course. Frau von Gropphusen went with me and helped me to choose them. I can tell you, Kläre, she does understand such things."
The young woman stood in front of her friend and looked her over from head to foot. It would have been impossible to find any costume which lent itself more happily to Marie's dainty appearance than this of some light-grey soft silken material, trimmed with white, and with a little hat to match, the shape of which softly emphasised the delicate beauty of the young face.
Kläre gave the girl a hearty kiss, and said: "You are as pretty as a picture, little one. Quite lovely. Well, and what did the stern father say to all this?"
Marie was quite flushed with pride. "At first he said, 'By Jove!'" she answered. "Then I made him give me a kiss; and next he got quite anxious and wanted to know whether I hadn't been running into debt. I had to swear to him that the whole turn-out didn't cost me more than what he had given me for it."
"And is that the truth, dear child?"
"Well, I had just to add four marks from my pocket-money."
Kläre shook her head smilingly. "Dear, dear! So young and already so depraved! Hypocrisy and perjury! Well, at least it is worth it."
Frau von Gropphusen now made quite a business of helping Marie von Falkenhein about her clothes. Hannah's slender hands were quicker and cleverer than those of the deftest maid, and she knew how to transform the young girl's plain boarding-school frocks into something quite pretty and original.
She did all this with a soft motherly tenderness, hardly in accordance with her own youthfulness. Marie Falkenhien's school-girl stiffness disappeared gradually, and a dainty young woman blossomed out.
"By Jove!" said Güntz to Frau Kläre. "How Mariechen is coming on! She is getting a deuced pretty little girl!"
And Reimers looked at the young girl with eyes which no longer contained the brotherly indifference of past months.
Shortly before the departure of the troops for the practice-camp the regimental adjutant, Senior-lieutenant Kauerhof, had a fall from his horse, and injured one of the tendons of his knee-joint. This would probably keep him away from duty for about six weeks, so Lieutenant Reimers was appointed to take his work. Being the eldest lieutenant in the regiment his promotion to senior-lieutenant was expected any day.
The young officer was in the seventh heaven of delight at this mark of distinction. He embarked on his new duties with boundless and untiring zeal. He almost divined the wishes of Falkenhein; and sometimes it was not even necessary to give explicit directions as to the manner in which this or that order was to be carried out. The colonel knew that Reimers, with his powers of intuition, would do the right thing.
Falkenhein could not imagine a more painstaking adjutant, nor one who, when off duty, on the march, or at the practice-camp, could have looked after his colonel's comfort with more tender consideration. He had noticed that Reimers had of late paid his daughter attention, and the idea of some day entrusting his child to the care of this excellent young man--already like a beloved son to him--gave him real pleasure. This gratifying prospect made him more unreserved than was usually his custom. It was well known that the colonel was not exactly delighted with the hundred and one innovations that had been introduced into the army at the accession of the young emperor. And now, feeling that he could trust his acting adjutant implicitly, and that not a word of misrepresentation or misconstruction would ever reach the ears of any evil-disposed person, he freely unburdened his mind of the cares and anxieties that weighed upon it.
Some of these confidential communications struck Reimers with amazement. He had expected to find in Falkenhein an officer who would entirely dissipate all the doubts that Güntz had awakened in his mind; and now he discovered that this honoured superior also was filled with the gravest views as to the thoroughness and efficiency of the organisation of the German army. The more important of these conversations he noted down each evening in the following manner:--
June 2nd.
The colonel happened to talk about the supply of officers for the German army. In his opinion, the best material to draw from is the so-called "army nobility"--that is to say, those families (not necessarily noble) members of which have in many successive generations been German officers--German meaning Prussian, Saxon, Hanoverian, &c.--(examples: the colonel himself, Wegstetten, and also my humble self). These families are mostly of moderate means, and often intermarry. That conscientious devotion to their calling as officers is thus ingrained in their flesh and blood must be self-evident. It is born in them; and by their simple, austere up-bringing, with their profession ever in view, they become thoroughly imbued with it. But there is a danger that in such a mental atmosphere their range of observation may be so restricted that they cannot view the life of the world around them with intelligence or comprehension. Therefore it is of immense importance that the corps of German officers should be strengthened by the infusion of fresh blood from the middle and lower-middle classes, whose members, having been brought up and educated according to modern ideas, are of great service to the other officers in enlarging their range of view. They provide unprejudiced minds and clear intellects capable of dealing with the more advanced technical problems of modern warfare (Güntz, for instance).
The most! unsatisfactory material consists of those officers who, on account of inherited wealth, look upon their profession as a kind of sport, attractive, abounding in superficial honours, and for that reason very agreeable. They generally spring from well-to-do middle-class families (Landsberg), or, in the smart regiments of Guards, from the families of large landed proprietors and wealthy manufacturers. These latter are apt to regard court ball-rooms and racecourses as more important fields of action than drill-grounds and barracks. They are wholly without ambition, because they only intend to spend a few years in the army, and then retire to the comforts of private life on their own estates. They are neither good officers because to be that demands a man's whole attention and energies; nor, subsequently, good citizens--because the proper management of a large estate needs training and experience, which cannot be acquired during their years of military life.
"Yet sometimes these very officers become generals in command, or something of the sort!" said he. "That's the worst of it!"
June 3rd.
The colonel continued the conversation of yesterday. We talked about the aristocracy and the middle-class in the army. He admits without hesitation that the middle-class element is despised, from the staff-officers downwards, owing to causes originating in the reflected glory of the old personal relations between the monarch and his feudal lords, now somewhat modified by the indiscriminate giving of titles--the acceptance of which titles, moreover, on the part of the middle-classes, he utterly condemns. He wound up by saying: "If only it were always members of the aristocracy who were really the most efficient, and attained the highest eminence!"
Just as the colonel had argued before that there was danger of one-sidedness from the prevailing influence of the "army nobility," he now pointed out that, on the other hand, an advantage arose: a kind of accumulation of specific military qualities of a bodily as well as of a mental kind. He may be quite right.
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June 6th.
Yesterday and to-day the Crown Prince lunched at the mess. He came for these two days in order to inspect the regiment of dragoons here, which belongs to his brigade. An amiable, good-tempered fellow (although our cooking did not give him entire satisfaction), and one who likes to sit over his wine a little.
As we rode after dinner his Highness told us some most racy and amusing stories in capital style. Then the conversation turned upon questions of tactics during the last campaign, and at this juncture the colonel became quite grave. These visits of exalted personages to regimental officers, which are to a certain extent of a social character, may, he says, bring about serious consequences. Such exalted persons are apt to regard any intellectual cypher as a great military genius if he happens to be an agreeable and versatile talker, and then the military authorities have not always the courage to disturb the preconceived notions of their sovereign. Result: Society-generals for dinners and balls; after whom rank next the petticoat-generals. And then he referred to the female ascendency in the reign of the third Napoleon.
June 11th.
There is in the Reuss regiment of infantry an amusing little adjutant, Senior-lieutenant Schreck. He was with the expedition in China, and for that was awarded a medal. He is never to be seen without his little red and yellow ribbon. In fun the colonel asked him: "Have you got a ribbon like that on your night-shirt too?"
"You are pleased to jest, sir!" answered the little fellow indignantly, from the back of his long-legged bay mare.
"After all," said Falkenhein to me later, "I was just as proud of my first medal in the year 1870!"
"But this deluge of orders," he continued, "that was showered upon the China Expedition leads to a lot of self-delusion. It magnifies an insignificant event to an unnatural degree. Trivial successes stand out as if they were great victories, and cause exaggerated notions of individual infallibilty. This was exactly what happened in the Dutch campaign of 1787, upon which followed the disasters of Valmy and Jena."
Jena!----Güntz said that too. Moreover, the colonel does not deny that the Expedition achieved all possible success. But he considers most objectionable that self-asserting propensity to boast about it associated as it so often is with an unctuous piety. "Of course," he said, "it's only one of the signs of the times; and it is just these times that don't please me. All this outward show in religion is detestable. It was just so in Berlin and Potsdam in the time of Bischoffswerder and Woellner."
That again was before--Jena.
June 13th.
For the first time the colonel asked me about my experiences in the South African War. He was reminded of it because a lieutenant belonging to the South-West African Defence Corps happened to call upon him at the practice-camp. I could only say that I had brought away with me from the Transvaal an unspeakable abhorrence of war.
"Of war in general?" asked Falkenhein.
"Yes, indeed," I answered; and then it suddenly struck me what a preposterous reply this was for an officer to make. I qualified the assertion by saying I had assisted at the most unfortunate period of the Boer War, during the panic that followed Cronje's capture, and had got to know only the seamy side of warfare: demolished farms, trampled-down fields, no real steady fighting, scarcely any skirmishing even, but just one continual rout.
The colonel listened to my torrent of words in silence. Then at last--"Good God!" he said, "a thoughtful manmustdetest war--all war. But it does not do to be sentimental. Sentimentality in this matter is synonymous with stupidity." He spoke of this for a long time, then about other topics, and finally wound up by saying: "There are many such enigmas in this world that must remain unsolved for the present, and with which men are yet forced to deal in a practical manner, even at the risk of making mistakes. So that we just have to choose a sensible middle course. We must be neither too superficial nor too profound. And above all, we must not think too much!" Unfortunately, I am not the man for such compromises.
June 16th.
The colonel lunched with me in the canteen, sitting on benches in the middle of the wood; our fare being bread, sausage, and some excellent lager-beer. Close by were several one-year volunteers, and two or three non-commissioned officers with them. They looked uncomfortable, for they are forbidden to be on familiar terms with the non-commissioned officers. The colonel, however, did not mind it much.
"I believe," he said, "that it cannot always be avoided." Then he spoke of the one-year volunteer system, which in his opinion is a two-edged sword. It furnishes most efficient reserve-officers,--it has that advantage, certainly. But the drawbacks are as follows:
It is apt to demoralise the non-commissioned officers. True, bribery is strictly forbidden; but that is a mere empty form, a prohibition which is daily infringed, such infringement being purposely overlooked, whether for good or evil. The non-commissioned officer then ceases to depend on his pay alone; and that puts temptations to dishonourable conduct before many a perhaps otherwise conscientious man, besides inevitably engendering dissatisfaction with his profession. Furthermore, the one-year volunteer system takes away just those men who, with their higher intelligence and culture, might most effectually oppose the socialistic propaganda that goes on in the ranks, and who might in a certain sense exert an enlightening influence on those around them. The colonel regards all prohibitions and regulations against the inroads of the revolutionary spirit in the army as more or less futile. The only practicable expedient is the influence over the privates of thoroughly trustworthy elements in their midst. The fact that the one-year volunteers live in barracks among the privates certainly makes severe demands on the patriotism of the younger ones; but then it renders careful surveillance possible, and affords a valuable insight into the life of the common soldier, into his ways of thinking and his views of the world in general. Falkenhein maintains that for the same reason this arrangement, although in some respects inconvenient, is highly desirable for theavantageuras a future officer. The French military authorities, who have lately instituted a similar system, have, in his opinion, done perfectly right.
The hardships of the life serve both to sift out the incapables, and to produce officers who are more mature, more manly, and who do not look upon their inferiors as utter aliens.