The inspection of the regimental shooting went off without a hitch. In his subsequent criticism the general spoke of the pleasure it invariably afforded him to inspect the 80th Regiment of the Eastern Division Field-Artillery,--a pleasure of which he had never been disappointed. He ended by saying: "I congratulate both the regiment and yourself, Colonel von Falkenhein. The regiment, because it has such an excellent commanding officer at its head; and you, because you have made your regiment such a splendid body of men." Hardly a very brilliant or very witty remark, this; but it sounded pleasantly, and one could not reasonably expect higher praise.
Falkenhein was in the best of good humours. "Come, Reimers," he said after lunch, when he had accompanied the general to his carriage, "We'll give my two bays a little exercise. They've had none yet to-day."
The two officers started off at an easy trot towards the butts, chatting as they went.
"Here's something that will interest you, my dear Reimers," said the colonel presently. "Wednesday, the day we arrive home, is your day to go to the Güntzes. Mariechen has written to say there will be a surprise in the evening--vegetables of her own growing and poultry of her own rearing. The child makes one's mouth water, after our fare at the mess! The ladies promise us asparagus, home-bred chickens, new potatoes, salad, rhubarb shape, and a bowl of strawberries, too--everything home-grown. They drew lots as to which of the fowls were to be sacrificed, and are anxiously awaiting the arrival of the men, because not one of the kitchenmaids will consent to wring the neck of a chicken. My daughter also thanks you very much for your kind message; and I was to give you her kind remembrances, and to thank you heartily for taking such excellent care of her old papa." Reimers thanked him in a low voice.
"It is wonderful," continued Falkenhein pleasantly, "what a change a little creature like that girlie of mine can make in one's home. It used to be quite immaterial to me where I slept whether here, in barracks, or in my own house. After my dear wife died I never cared to be at home. And now this little girl makes things so pleasant again that I once more enjoy being within my own four walls."
The lieutenant did not think this at all extraordinary. And as the colonel went on chatting gaily about his little daughter, Reimers, so silent hitherto, became quite talkative. Falkenhein turned and glanced at him now and then. The young man threw his heart and soul into his subject, and his eyes shone as he related various little instances of Marie Falkenhein's amiability and charm.
Suddenly Reimers paused. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the colonel at once for this jewel of a girl. It would, indeed, be the most natural end to their conversation, and he felt sure that he would meet with no rebuff. But then he had not meant to approach the colonel on the subject so long as he was a mere simple lieutenant. He would at least wait for his promotion to senior-lieutenant. Therefore he held back the proposal he had so nearly made.
It fell out that the very next day an official telegram arrived, promoting Reimers to the rank of senior-lieutenant. Colonel von Falkenhein was the first to congratulate his acting adjutant, and it astonished him that an event of the kind, bound to occur in the natural order of things, should throw the sedate Reimers into such a state of excitement.
The new senior-lieutenant, too, was surprised at himself, having hitherto imagined that he regarded such externals with considerable equanimity. The delight with which he now fastened the stars upon his epaulettes was little less than that with which, seven years earlier, he had attached the epaulettes themselves to his uniform, feeling himself the happiest man in the whole world.
When Senior-lieutenant Reimers reported himself to the colonel, Falkenhein made him an unexpected proposition.
"My dear Reimers," said he, "you know that Kauerhof is now the eldest senior-lieutenant in the regiment. Before he gets his captaincy he will have to return to ordinary duty for a time, and I must therefore look about for another adjutant. So I thought of you, my dear Reimers. You have been so entirely satisfactory as acting adjutant that I cannot wish for a better man. But what do you think of it yourself?"
Reddening with pride and pleasure, Reimers replied: "If you are kind enough to think me worthy of such a mark of distinction, sir, I can only promise to do my best."
The colonel nodded, and continued: "I can well believe in your good intentions. But now, how about the Staff College?"
"Under these circumstances," replied Reimers quickly, "I will of course gladly give up the Staff College."
"That's just what you shall not do!" returned Falkenhein. "You shall go to the Staff College. It is my wish, in your own interests and in that of your career, my dear Reimers. Perhaps the matter could be arranged by your postponing your examination for a little while. You will probably in any case have to wait patiently for quite six years to come before you get the command of a battery. Be my adjutant for the first two years of that period, and then go in for your examination. By that time I shall probably be no longer in the regiment. Well, what do you say?"
Reimers agreed with pleasure. There seemed nothing but good fortune for him that day. Apparently all his wishes were to be fulfilled. Would it not perhaps be best to propose at once for the hand of Mariechen? Was not this just the right moment, after receiving such a conspicuous proof of Falkenhein's esteem and goodwill? But finally a piece of pure punctilio prevented him from carrying out his intentions. It was not at all correct to make a proposal of marriage at the time of receiving an official notification.
At luncheon that day it was continually, "Your health, Reimers!" "Good luck to you, Reimers!" or the orderly would be at his elbow with a message: "Captain Blank, or Lieutenant So-and-so, would like to drink a glass of wine with you, sir." And Reimers pledged his friends gaily across the table. He had invited Güntz and little Dr. von Fröben to a bottle of champagne, and grew more reckless as time went on. When lights were brought for the cigars Güntz said to him: "You're a bit screwed, my boy. You'd better go and sleep it off."
But Reimers had become exceedingly jovial. "Oh, it's nothing at all!" he declared. "I'm going for my ride now It was postponed on account of the announcements to-day."
"That'll do nicely, my son," said Güntz; "that will put you right again." And he looked on smiling as the new senior-lieutenant swung himself into the saddle. The first attempt miscarried, and even the successful one was accomplished with difficulty; but the rider sat firmly enough in his seat when he got there and Dorothy had no tricks. Güntz waved merrily to his friend as he turned off into the forest.
The mare's hoofs sank deep into the soft sand; she soon allowed herself to fall into a lazy pace, and Reimers did not press her. Dorothy stretched out her neck and drew the bridle through her rider's fingers; he let it hang loose.
Reimers now became aware for the first time that the glasses and half-glasses in which he had answered his friends' congratulations must have amounted to a considerable number. If he tried to concentrate his thoughts on any particular subject, they slipped away from him in the most perverse manner. He reflected vaguely that this was the kind of mood in which he had of old committed all manner of pleasant follies and youthful indiscretions. And why not? Was he not young, and a free man?
How delightful was this solitude after the noise and smoke of the mess-room! It was now about six o'clock, and a heavenly June evening. The sun was still high, but the heat was no longer oppressive; the air felt soft and caressing. The dense forest on either hand was wrapped in stillness; no sound penetrated between the slender stems of the trees; the horse's tread in the soft sand made only a slight swishing noise.
At a crossing of the ways the mare came to a standstill, stretching out her nose towards a narrower lane, and snuffing the air. Finally she turned off the sandy road on to a grassy bridle-path. Reimers gave her her head; this was probably a short cut to the neighbouring village.
Now the wood became thinner. Cleared patches or young plantations alternated with the groups of tall pine-trees, and presently a fairly large meadow appeared on the left. The hay had already been carried; but in one corner the last remains of the crop had been collected and heaped together. This little haycock exhaled a penetrating fragrance, the essence of forest, grass, and sunshine, which the mare sniffed at longingly.
Suddenly there came over Reimers an irresistible desire to stretch himself out in the hay and rest there for a little. Without further thought he dismounted, pushed some hay to the mare with his foot, passed the bridle round the trunk of a pine that stood solitary at the edge of the field, and threw himself down on the soft grass. He pillowed his head on his cap, and buried himself deep in his rustling couch. He drew out along stalk and chewed at it; it still retained the sweet grassy taste. Thin wisps fell across his face, and between them he looked up into the blue sky, lazy and contented. Perfect stillness reigned around him; only as from time to time he turned his head the dry grass crackled and rustled, sounding in his ears like the snapping of twigs and branches.
At last his eyes became painful from staring so long into the dazzling blue of heaven. He shut them; all now was red instead of blue, and to lie with closed lids was grateful and delicious after the blinding light. He cast one sleepy glance at the mare. She stood there flicking her sides with her tail, and kept trying vainly to get some hay from the ground into her bit-encumbered mouth. He thought of slackening the curb for the poor beast, but was too lazy to stir.
While he was dozing off it seemed to him as if something light and fluttering passed him by; and for a moment he became aware of another perfume added to the scent of the hay--something faint, yet distinct. But he kept his eyes closed; nothing external mattered to him.
Reimers was awakened by a gentle pricking and tickling. It felt as though a wisp of hay were passing lightly over his mouth, backwards and forwards. He snatched at it, and a long stalk remained in his hand. His eyes were slightly dazzled; he was gazing straight at the sun, already considerably lower in the sky.
Lazily he looked around him. Thank goodness, the mare was still there, her head turned towards him, her ears pricked attentively.
And here--close beside him? A woman sat there; a dainty little figure, dressed in some light silken fabric, on her fashionably-curled golden hair an enormous straw hat, above which nodded brilliant scarlet poppies. She sat with her back to him, and was trying to pick out the longest stalk from a tuft of grass that grew at the edge of the meadow.
Reimers rubbed his eyes. Devil take it all! was he still dreaming? A subtle odour came wafting from the rustling silk of her attire, a breath of depravity, as though hailing from the corrupt life of some big city; a bewildering, insinuating atmosphere, that had of a sudden overpowered the delicious freshness of hay and pine-trees.
He shut his eyes dizzily. His senses were still somewhat dazed from his potations; he could not rouse himself to a clear awakening.
The woman turned towards him. A charming, rather bold face bent down over him, and a pair of hot, eager lips were pressed to his. And Reimers, after the space of years behind him, was once again in that mood in which he had of yore committed acts of folly.
A few weeks later Senior-lieutenant Reimers had a consultation with the surgeon-major, Dr. Andreae.
"What you tell me, doctor," he said at the end, "is very much like a death-sentence, so far as a man's domestic happiness is concerned. He must never hope to found a family?"
"No," replied Andreae; "a decent man does not marry under such circumstances. If he does, he commits a crime, consciously or unconsciously, not only upon a woman, but upon his children."
"Thank you, doctor." And Reimers would have taken leave, but Andreae stopped him at the door.
"I beg of you, my dear Reimers," he said, "not to take too tragic a view of your case. I assure you, many men in like circumstances make out a very tolerable existence. Among the younger men of the present generation the average is enormously high, though fortunately most cases are not so serious as yours. Quite alarmingly high, the average, to us doctors.
"But after all, life is not entirely concerned with this one relation to the other sex. Those who find themselves cut off from domestic happiness in this particular are often most excellent officers. In peace they can devote themselves entirely to their profession without other distractions; so that it benefits somewhat, as does the Catholic Church by the services of her celibate priesthood. And in active warfare it seems to me that such men must enjoy something of the fatalism of Islam. All is not lost, my dear fellow! I hear everywhere the greatest praise of your capacity and talents as an officer. So be brave, and throw the others as mere ballast behind you. You have a guiding star in your profession--is it not so?"
Reimers nodded.
"You are right, doctor," he said, "and I am much obliged to you."
He looked weary and broken as he went out at the door. In a thoughtless moment he had destroyed his one chance of happiness. That moment he must expiate, and he knew he was strong enough to bear the burden.
But it seemed to him that it was not this alone that had decided his fate. He felt as though a grey veil had descended over his whole future; even over all that in his imagination had elevated him above the more sordid chances of destiny.
Could this be because that star to which the doctor had pointed him was losing its brilliancy?
Gloomily he trod the woodland path to the town. Down below in a field behind the barracks an old sergeant was giving the assistant trumpeters a lesson. The lads blew forth a horribly ill-tuned unison. Then the sergeant set his own trumpet to his lips, and the notes of the dismissal rang clearly through the air:--
Notes of the Dismissal
Notes of the Dismissal
The signal that in the manœuvres indicated the close of each evolution.
After eighteen months of service Gustav Weise was made bombardier. Captain von Wegstetten thought this would now be a safe experiment with the erstwhile social-democrat.
But more non-commissioned officers were still required.
Sergeant Wiegandt had gone away on April 1: Wegstetten's best non-com., and now the blissful husband of the beaming Frieda. He would have been made deputy sergeant-major very shortly; but not even this prospect had been sufficient to retain him. At Michaelmas two more non-commissioned officers would obtain their discharge; Heppner was dead; Heimert was in a mad-house; there were strange faces everywhere, instead of the old tried experienced men. And even so there were not enough of them.
In this embarrassment Wegstetten bethought himself of Vogt. He was an honest steady lad, on whom one could depend. All his superiors praised him, and, besides, he had good blood in his veins, inherited from his father, the brave old sergeant, with his iron cross and his medal for bravery.
Vogt did not prove to be particularly willing. Every plough in its furrow, every mower deftly at work, awakened in him longings for his old agricultural pursuits. He wore his uniform with a good grace; there was no help for it, and grumbling would have only made the life harder. But to stay on longer than necessary--for that he had no hankering.
Wegstetten knew how to tackle his men. He talked glibly to the gunner about the honour and distinction to be won as a non-commissioned officer, not forgetting to observe how much the father at home would rejoice to see the son following in his footsteps.
Vogt asked his father's advice, and the turnpike-keeper wrote back: "Jump at your captain's offer, my lad. As an old soldier, I am very glad to think of my boy as a non-commissioned officer. Never mind about me. The pleasure you give me will make me young and strong, so that I shall be able to keep the place going till you come home again at last."
So Vogt signed on for another year.
But directly he found himself committed he began to regret his decision.
He had been very lonely in the battery since his comrade Klitzing's death. He had not felt inclined to strike up a friendship with any one else; none of them were quite his sort. Despite his good nature, Truchsess was a lazy obtuse kind of fellow. Count Plettau, to be sure, was different; for though one never quite knew whether he was in jest or earnest, still one could have something like rational conversation with him. And Plettau took a real interest in the sturdy peasant lad, in whom he recognised an outlook on life so different from his own as to fill him with constant amazement. He told Vogt about the peasants of his own Westphalian home, who in many cases had lived on their land from generation to generation, and knew no higher source of pride than to call themselves peasant-farmers.
Then Vogt's eyes would brighten up. These men of the red mother-earth were people after his own heart.
"Yes," he said, "so it should be everywhere in Germany:
Peasant farm by peasant farm,Then shall none have hunger or harm!"
Peasant farm by peasant farm,Then shall none have hunger or harm!"
Vogt was grateful to the count for talking to him so sensibly and kindly; but still things were totally changed: he could not find any one to replace his faithful friend Klitzing. The poor fellow felt more and more lonely every day.
In addition to this he had many vexations to bear when on duty. Captain von Wegstetten and Lieutenant Reimers, who certainly both knew their business well, had always shown themselves satisfied with him; but a new senior-lieutenant was imported into the battery, a certain Brettschneider, who was always pulling Vogt up and finding fault with him.
Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider came from the Staff College, and the non-commissioned officers whispered it about that he was considered no end of a swell. Well, he might be clever and smart enough; but, nevertheless, the new officer was not infallible. When the exercises were going on he could make mistakes like every one else. One thing was certain: he was tremendously well-set-up. He always stood as straight and stiff as a ramrod, and he could scarcely turn his carefully groomed head, so high was his collar! Moreover, his pink, clean-shaven face never for one moment lost its expression of haughty disdain. The men avoided him as far as they could, for one seldom came near him without being called back and found fault with; and everybody--non-coms. and all--felt exasperated by the young man's conceited behaviour.
Devil take the fellow! Wegstetten and Reimers certainly did not make themselves cheap with the men. But when things were going right, they always had time for a word of praise and an appreciative smile. Even the sharp eyes of little Wegstetten could look quite good-humoured on occasion. But Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider always remained stand-offish, looking as if he had swallowed a poker.
All this incensed our honest Vogt. Of course it was true--confound it! that a soldier was only doing his duty; still, one is but human, and one deserves a little recognition for hard and faithful service. And isn't that the right way to knit a lasting bond between officers and men, one that should prove valuable when hard times come?
During the gun-practice Vogt had been several times called over the coals by Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider. The bombardier did his duty in a cheerful spirit, and sometimes let fall half-audible jokes and chaff for his comrades' benefit. This much annoyed the officer in question, and he spiced his rebuke with the remark that he didn't know how a man who couldn't observe the first rudiments of discipline could aspire to being a non-commissioned officer!
Vogt laid this scolding to heart. He had meant no harm when he had called out "Hurry up!" to that dilatory old Truchsess. On the other hand, it could not be denied that Brettschneider was in the right: they were forbidden to speak unless it was absolutely necessary, and "necessary" his admonition had certainly not been.
Nevertheless, a bitter feeling of having been unjustly treated remained in Vogt's mind.
When they came back from the practice-camp he rejoiced to be once more doing ordinary drill; for at this he knew he was especially good, particularly in the gun-drill. He would be able now to show the senior-lieutenant what a capable fellow he was. And this time they would have to be more than usually particular over the exercises; the colonel himself was going to review the sixth battery.
The mantling and dismantling of the guns needed great promptitude and dexterity. Imaginary accidents were therefore said to have happened, and the men keenly competed together to see who should remedy them most quickly and satisfactorily.
The pole of Vogt's gun was supposed to be broken. In a second he had put on the spare iron bands that should in reality be fixed with nails, and then he wound coil after coil of stout rope round the join, till the pole was as if held in a strong web of cordage, and would be more likely to break in a new place than to give way again where it had broken before.
He had just finished this piece of work, when a gunner came running to say that the off-wheel of the gun-carriage had been destroyed by a shot, and must be replaced by a new one.
This was a serious piece of business. Three men would have to hold the heavy carriage while the two others fixed the scarcely less heavy wheel on to the axle. To make things worse, that blockhead Truchsess had hurt himself in removing the wheel that had been "destroyed," so that only four men were left. Vogt rolled up the spare wheel, but it was almost impossible to fix it; the heavy wheel was too cumbersome for a single man.
The sweat ran in streams down Vogt's forehead into his eyes, making them smart terribly; but he would not give up, and at last with a tremendous effort managed to lift the wheel into place and slide it on to the axle. There was nothing to do now but to run the linch-pin through the axle and screw on the nave to keep all safe. This he did with trembling fingers.
Vogt raised himself. Thank God! Neither of the other five guns had got as far as his, and yet his had been the heaviest job. He told his men to keep still, and ran over to Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider to report the completion of his task.
Brettschneider was standing at the edge of the parade-ground in the shade of the baggage-shed, talking to Senior-lieu-tenant Reimers.
It was only while he was running that Vogt first noticed how severely he had strained himself. His heart hammered as though it would burst from his body, and his legs were trembling. With the back of his hand he wiped the sweat from his brow, and drew himself up in the prescribed fashion as he reported: "Gun six ready, sir. Pole mended and spare wheel fixed."
As through a mist he saw that Senior-lieutenant Reimers was smiling a little, probably at his over-heated appearance. Then suddenly he heard the sharp high voice of Brettschneider.
"Please stand in a more respectful attitude, Bombardier Vogt, when you have something to say to me," the voice snapped out.
Vogt pulled himself up and repeated his announcement.
But now the senior-lieutenant began to correct him and find fault with him: he was to put his right shoulder higher, his cap was not straight, he must place the tip of his little finger on his trouser-seam, and put his feet wider apart.
"Straighten your knees!" commanded he at last.
Vogt felt how his legs were trembling. He might have been able to obey; but he was at the end of his patience.
Brettschneider again and in a louder tone commanded: "Bombardier Vogt, straighten your knees!"
But Vogt did not care; a mad resentment surged up in him. He would not obey this idiot at any price. He raised his head, and looked the officer straight in the face with eyes full of open mutiny.
Brettschneider shouted again: "Bombardier Vogt, I order you to straighten your knees. Do you know that you are being guilty of disobedience to orders, and that that is a military crime?"
But Bombardier Vogt remained unmoved, with his mutinous eyes fixed on the senior-lieutenant.
Brettschneider waited a few seconds, then he called quietly to one of the corporals: "Put Bombardier Vogt under arrest!"
The corporal looked blankly, first at Brettschneider, then at Vogt.
The senior-lieutenant repeated his order, whereupon the corporal took the bombardier by his right arm and marched away with him through the gate into the courtyard of the barrack.
When they were out of hearing, Reimers turned to his companion: "Were you not a little hard on him, Brettschneider?"
The clean-shaven face turned towards him languidly, and Brettschneider asked coolly: "How do you mean, my dear fellow?"
"Well, you must know yourself!" pursued Reimers. "The man had just done a good piece of work, he came running to you and expected a word of recognition,--he deserved it, Brettschneider,--and you let him be taken off like that! I don't think that's the way to make men love their work."
"One must preserve discipline, and prevent these rascals from getting thoroughly demoralised."
Reimers shrugged his shoulders. "Vogt was the best soldier in the whole battery," he declared.
"Then the battery is in a bad way!" retorted Brettschneider impatiently. "The man commits an undeniable piece of disobedience before your eyes and you defend him? I am much obliged!" Brettschneider put on his haughtiest expression, smiled with the utmost politeness, and said amiably: "You must confess, my dear Reimers, that I am entitled to my own opinion about the matter."
In Room IX. that evening the conversation was of a heated description. Truchsess swore that he would not put up with that low fellow, that Brettschneider. All of them were furious with the stuck-up young man; and though they had hitherto gone through their duty without much fuss or grumbling, they were now filled with a thorough repugnance for the soldier's uniform and a perfect hatred for military life in which one had to knuckle under to idiots like that. You half killed yourself and what did you get by it? More kicks than halfpence, or perhaps you even get clapped into prison!
"Keep your hair on, brewer!" said Count Plettau to Truchsess; and putting on a superior tone: "We don't understand all this, you see! this is the higher kind of patriotism! Lieutenant Brettschneider ought to have a medal, instead of being blamed by such as you!"
He also was beside himself with rage over the exasperating piece of folly he had witnessed. Hang it all! if he had not been so seriously concerned to get to the end of his long years of service he would certainly have put a spoke in the wheel of this young gentleman, the senior-lieutenant. But no; that would be too foolish. Only a few days more and he would be free at last; he could not play tricks with his chances.
Suddenly he laughed aloud.
"You keep your mouths shut, boys!" he said, "otherwise you may get into trouble yourselves. But don't worry! When I have got over the next few days I'll give the senior-lieutenant the lesson he wants!"
The turnpike-keeper, Friedrich August Vogt, was gazing in surprise on a letter which the postman had just pushed in at the little window. The superscription was in the hand-writing of his son, but the post-mark bore the name of the capital.
What was the boy doing there? He had written nothing as to any prospective change. Well, the letter itself must explain.
At first the old man could not understand the written words. He read them through a second and a third time. At last he comprehended what had happened. He sat on his chair as if paralysed, and read the last page of the letter over and over again without attaching any meaning to it.
His son wrote from the prison where he was now detained as a prisoner awaiting trial. He related all that had passed straightforwardly and without excusing himself.
"To-day I have been shown the charge against me," he concluded. "It is a case of wilful disobedience before all the other men. I believe it is an offence that is rather severely punished, and I know, too, that I am not without blame. But perhaps, dear father, you will not condemn me altogether; perhaps you will be able to imagine what my feelings must have been. For your sake alone I ought to have been able to control myself, and I beg you to forgive me for not having done so."
The turnpike-keeper jumped up suddenly from his chair. He flung the letter violently down on the table and struck it with his fist. He felt full of uncontrollable anger against this boy, who had brought shame upon him in his old age at the end of an honourable and blameless life. And why? because my gentleman did not choose to obey orders! because he had chosen to feel injured! A soldier to feel himself "injured" by the blame of his superior! So these were the new-fangled times of no discipline and no respect for one's betters!
And this was the reward of his trouble in bringing up the boy to be loyal and true: that he had now got a son in prison! When the neighbours asked: "Your son is in the artillery, isn't he?" he must reply: "Oh, no; he was once! Now he is carting sand." "What! carting sand?" "Oh, yes; he is carting sand, dressed in a grey shirt, and with a lot of other gentlemen in a long row A Oh, very honourable gentlemen, all of them! A thief on one side of him, and on the other a person who did not quite know the difference between mine and thine." "Your son!" "My son, neighbour."
The turnpike-keeper seized the letter again to see how the thing went exactly.
Nice sort of business this! There it was right enough: "Wilful disobedience before all the other men!" Nothing else was to be made of it.
But this Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider--by God!--he was not one of the right sort, if the boy was telling the truth. With all due respect for an officer, he seemed to be a perfect popinjay. There were people like that here and there who were ready to burst with pride and conceit, and who looked upon an inferior as scarcely a human being.
And again he snatched up the letter.
What the boy wrote was all very clear and straightforward honestly and truthfully put. One could not help believing what was there on the paper; and, of course, it was easy to understand how the thing had come about. After all, every man has his feelings, whether he be a gunner or a senior-lieutenant. The devil! he himself would have done exactly as Franz did; though, of course, in his case life in a charity-school had made him used to giving in to people. But the boy had always been so independent, no one could help feeling for him.
And after all, when one looked at it rightly, it was a clumsy thing for Lieutenant Brettschneider to have done, and his son's fault had been the outcome of an unfortunate set of circumstances,--not a very serious fault either, though the poor lad would have to pay for it dearly enough!
Wilful disobedience--what sort of punishment would there be for that? It had such an imposing, ceremonious sound! He racked his brains to think whom he could ask about it. But there was no one in the village who would be of any use.
After a sleepless night he rose from his bed with his decision made. He milked the cow, and asked a neighbour to see to the animals during the day. Then he put on his old-fashioned black Sunday coat and the top hat which he only wore on great occasions, such as the king's birthday. On his breast he fastened his medal and cross. Over all he wore his old cloak, and he put some pieces of bread and sausage in his pocket. He was ready for travelling.
On the way to the station he passed a field of barley. It was ripe for cutting, and he had meant to begin reaping that morning. But what did it matter about the barley? He had got to see after his boy and petition for him. He would go straight to the right person: he would go to the garrison and seek out the head of his son's battery, Captain von Wegstetten.
Throughout the whole journey he was alone in the railway carriage; other people did not travel so early. He looked stupidly out of the window. It was all one to him to-day what the fields looked like and how the harvest was getting on. He could only think of what he should say for his boy. Perhaps it was still possible to make them give up the charge against him.
In the capital he sat for an hour and a half in the waiting-room, waiting for his train. He got a cup of coffee, and ate his breakfast from the provisions in his pocket.
It was close and hot in the big room. He felt uncomfortable in such an atmosphere, as every one must do who is accustomed to work in the open air, and at last he threw back his cloak to relieve his oppression. People stared at his medals, nudged one another, and would not take their eyes off him, looking curious but respectful.
The turnpike-keeper sighed and buttoned his cloak again. Oh, if people only knew in what trouble he was!
It was just eight o'clock when he reached the garrison town. Of course that was somewhat early to be making such a visit as his; but he had no time to lose, and he knew that an officer must always begin the day early.
The porter at the station did not know where Captain von Wegstetten lived. But the turnpike-keeper had a piece of luck: outside the station he met a gunner, who readily told him the address--"11 Markt Strasse, up two flights of stairs"--and showed him the way to go.
The two flights of stairs tried the old man sorely. He had to wait on the first landing in order to get his breath. "Have I grown old all of a sudden?" he asked himself in surprise.
A soldier in a red coat opened the door to him.
"Is the captain at home?" asked the turnpike-keeper.
"Sorry, but he's not," answered the lad.
"Can you tell me where I can find him?"
"That would be no good. The captain's gone away--to a court-martial."
The turnpike-keeper started violently.
"Is the court-martial on Bombardier Vogt?" he asked.
The soldier answered in the affirmative, and inquired in surprise, "Who are you, then?"
"Vogt's father. I--I wanted to talk to the captain about my son. But it is too late, I see."
He turned about, saying, "Thank you all the same," and went towards the stairs. In the dark he missed the first step and stumbled; the lad ran after him. He led the old man to the banister and said, "Take care you don't fall; it is rather dark here. And you know, Herr Vogt, the men of the battery all say it is a mean shame, what's happened to Vogt, a mean shame."
But the turnpike-keeper did not seem to understand him. He only nodded and said, "Thank you, thank you," and tramped slowly down the stairs in his heavy boots.
Whilst Friedrich August Vogt waited for his train in the station of the little garrison town, the trial of his son was taking place before the military court of the district.
There was no doubt about the circumstances of the case. The two eye-witnesses, Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider and Senior-lieutenant Reimers, were unanimous on the subject, and the accused gave his assent to the correctness of the particulars.
The trial would therefore have come to an end very quickly had there not been a number of witnesses for the accused.
Captain von Wegstetten, as head of the battery; Captain Güntz, who had commanded it during Wegstetten's temporary absence; Senior-lieutenant Reimers and Lieutenant Landsberg, as officers in the battery; the sergeant-major and other non-commissioned officers: all united in giving Vogt the very best possible character. Wegstetten had had a violent altercation with Brettschneider, not only from personal feeling for the bombardier, but also from annoyance that his best candidate for a non-commissioned officer's post was lost to him through a piece of such tactless mismanagement. Brettschneider had complained about this reprimand, but no notice had been taken of his complaint, and that in itself spoke volumes for the accused. Güntz and Reimers were very warm in their praise of Vogt, and even Lieutenant Landsberg remembered the man as being particularly willing and diligent on duty.
Things looked favourable for the accused.
One of the officers present, a captain of the pioneers, asked Vogt: "You had just been working very hard, had you not? had fixed the heavy wheel single-handed, and had run very fast to tell Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider?--were you not very much exhausted and out of breath?"
"Yes, sir."
"I mean, you were rather over-tired and your eyes were dazed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Perhaps you did not quite know what you were doing?"
The accused hesitated a moment.
Wegstetten and Reimers had remained in the room. The former moved restlessly from one foot to the other. If Vogt were only to say "Yes," then the whole thing would be put down to a temporary aberration of mind due to hurry and fatigue, and the affair would end with his acquittal.
But the bombardier answered: "No, sir, I knew quite well what I was doing."
Now that was honest, but distinctly stupid.
The countenance of the prosecutor lightened up. He was a very young man, with many scars on his face. He sat stiffly on his chair, tightly buttoned into an immaculate brand-new uniform; and hitherto he had been regarding with a bored expression a silver bangle that he wore on his right wrist.
The hearing of witnesses was at an end. The president of the court-martial, a fat, good-humoured man of mature years, asked: "Is there anything that you wish to say, Bombardier Vogt?"
"No, thank you, sir."
"You acknowledge your guilt, then?"
"Yes, sir."
But the president wanted to give the man a chance, and asked another question, to which an affirmative answer would be a matter of course.
"But you are sorry for your conduct?" he asked.
The accused, however, again hesitated. Naturally every one expected him to say "yes," so that people were not listening very attentively. But when this "yes" did not appear to be forthcoming, all eyes were suddenly fixed upon Vogt.
"No," said he firmly.
The president looked amazed. "You cannot have understood me," he said. "I asked you if you were not sorry for your conduct?"
But the answer came, clear and decided: "No, I cannot be sorry."
Every one present looked dumfounded. Wegstetten thrust his sword angrily against the ground. God in heaven! was the fellow an ass? Now his fate was sealed!
Those who were assisting at the court-martial looked indignant; the chief of them, a major of dragoons, tapped impatiently on the table with his gold pencil-case, and gave a condemnatory shake of his head. The youngest of his colleagues, a senior-lieutenant in the grenadiers, twirled his moustache briskly; the expression of his face said plainly: "Just wait a bit! we'll give you a lesson!"
The public prosecutor beamed. He rose with an air of triumph, and demanded, "having full regard for all the extenuating circumstances of the case, but also in consideration of the obstinate persistence of the accused in his offence," a punishment of nine months' imprisonment.
Vogt turned as pale as death when he heard these words. This was impossible! It could not, it ought not to be!
The court was not long in coming to its decision, and its judgment was read out by the president in a quiet even tone of voice.
The accused hung on his lips with anxious expectation. At last, after all the formalities, came the verdict: "five months' imprisonment." He leant against the railing that separated him from his judges. The wood gave a creak. Long after the fat gentleman had sat down again Vogt went on listening. Surely something more was coming; some mitigation of this terrible sentence? But the trial was at an end.
The condemned man was taken away by a non-commissioned officer; he walked with unsteady steps, his eyes staring into vacancy. In the passage outside he caught sight of Wegstetten. The captain was talking to an old man in civilian clothes. Vogt felt a thrill when he saw the white hair that surrounded the old man's face. But it was only after he had gone round the next corner of the passage that the recognition struck him: great God, it was his father!
Involuntarily he stopped and tried to turn back; but the non-com, took his arm and pushed him forward, not roughly, yet in such fashion that the prisoner gave up his attempt.
"You fool, you!" said his companion; "if you had said you were quite sick with shame for your silly behaviour, you'd have got off with a month!"