The whole incident had also been observed by Frau Dörr, who was cutting asparagus, but she paid very; little attention, because such things happened nearly every other day. So she kept on with her work, and only gave up the search, when even the sharpest scrutiny of the beds failed to reveal any more white heads. Only then did she hang the basket on her arm, putting the knife in it, and driving a couple of strayed chickens before her, while she walked slowly along the middle path of the garden and then into the yard and up to the flower stand, where Dörr had resumed his work for the market.
"Well, Susy," he greeted his better half, "here you are. Did you see? Bollmann's dog was here again. Listen, he had better say his prayers and then I will try him out over the fire; there must be a little fat on him and Sultan can have the scraps.... And listen, Susy, dog's fat...." And he appeared to become absorbed in a favorite method of treating gout which he had been considering for some time. But at this moment he caught sight of the asparagus basket on his wife's arm, and interrupted himself. "Come, show it to me," he said. "Did you have good luck?"
"So so," said Frau Dörr, holding out the scarcely half-filled basket, whose contents he passed through his fingers, shaking his head. For most of the stalks were thin and there were many broken ones among them.
"Now, Susy, listen. You certainly have no eye for asparagus."
"Yes I have, too. But I can't work magic."
"Oh well, we will not quarrel, Susy; that will not make it any more than it is. But it looks like starvation."
"Why, not at all. They are all under ground, and whether they come up to-day or to-morrow, it is all the same. One good shower, such as we had before Whitsunday, and then you will see. And there is going to be rain. The water barrel is already smelling again and the big spider has crept into the corner. But you want to have everything every day; and you can't expect that."
Dörr laughed. "Well, tie it all up nicely. And the poor little stalks too. And then you can sell it a little cheaper."
"Now, don't talk like that," interrupted his wife, who always got angry over his avarice, but still she pulled his ear, which he always regarded as a sign of affection, and then she went over to the "castle," where she meant to make herself comfortable in the stone paved passageway and tie up her asparagus in bunches. But she had scarcely drawn up to the threshold the stool which always stood ready, than she heard, over in the little house with three windows where Frau Nimptsch lived, a back window pushed up vigorously and a moment later hooked in place. And then she saw Lena with a lilac and white jacket over her woolen skirt and a cap on her ash-blond hair, waving a friendly greeting to her.
Frau Dörr returned the greeting with equal warmth and said: "The window always open; that's right, Lena. It is already beginning to grow hot. Some change must be coming."
"Yes. And mother already has her headache from the heat, and so I would rather iron in the back room. It is pleasanter here too; at the front we don't see anybody."
"That is so," answered Frau Dörr. "I believe I will come over to the window for a bit. I can always work better when I have some one to talk to."
"How kind and good you are, Frau Dörr. But right here by the window the sun is so strong."
"That will do no harm, Lena. I will bring my market umbrella along, the old thing is covered with patches. But it serves its purpose still."
And within five minutes, good Frau Dörr had moved her stool over by the window and sat there as comfortable and self-satisfied as if she were at the regular market. Inside the room Lena had put the ironing board across two chairs close to the window and stood so near it that it would have been easy to reach her with one's hand. Meanwhile the flatiron moved busily back and forth. And Frau Dörr also was diligently choosing and binding up her asparagus and if she paused from her work now and then and glanced into the room, she could see the glow of the little ironing stove from which the fresh coals were taken for the flatiron.
"You might just bring me a plate, Lena, a plate or a dish." And when Lena brought what Frau Dörr had asked, the good woman dropped into the dish the broken pieces of asparagus which she had kept in her apron while she was sorting out the stalks. "There, Lena, that will make a little taste of asparagus. And it is just as good as the rest. For it is all nonsense that you must always have the heads. And it is just the same with cauliflower; always the flower ... pure imagination. The stump is really the best, for the strength of the plant is there. And the strength is always the most important thing."
"Heavens, you are always so good, Frau Dörr. But what will your husband say?"
"He? What he says doesn't matter. He will be talking. He always wants me to put in the spindling ones with the rest as if they were real stalks; but I don't like such cheating tricks, even if the broken pieces do taste just as good as the whole stalks. What anyone pays for, he ought to get, only it makes me angry that a man who gets on so well should be such an old skinflint. But all gardeners are like that, skimp and grasp and then they can never get enough."
"Yes," laughed Lena, "he is greedy and a bit peculiar. But for all that he is a good man."
"Yes, Lena, he is well enough so far, and even his stinginess would not be so bad, for at least it is better than wastefulness, if only he were not too fond. You would not believe it, but he is always right there. And just look at him. I have nothing but bother with him for all that he is fifty-six years old, and maybe a year more. For he tells lies if it suits him to. I keep telling him about strokes of apoplexy and point out people who limp or have their mouths drawn to one side, but he always laughs and will not believe me. But it will happen. Yes, Lena, I have no doubt that it will happen. And perhaps soon. Well, he has willed me everything he has and so I will not say anything more. When one has made one's bed, one must lie in it. But why are we talking about Dörr and strokes, and his bow legs. Good Lord, Lena, there are plenty of other folks who are as straight as a fir tree. Aren't there, Lena?"
At this Lena grew still more rosy than before, and said: "The charcoal is cold." And stepping back from the board, she went to the stove and shook the coal back among the embers, so as to take out a new one. All this was the work of a moment. And now with a quick turn of the hand she slipped the new hot coal from the tongs into the iron, shut the little door, and only then noticed that Frau Dörr was still waiting for an answer. But to make sure, the good woman asked the question over again and added: "Is he coming to-day?"
"Yes. At least he promised to."
"Now tell me, Lena," went on Frau Dörr, "how did it really begin? Mother Nimptsch never says much, and if she does say anything, it doesn't amount to much, and I never get the ins and outs of it. For she only tells part and that all confused. Now do tell me. Is it true that you met in Stralau?"
"Yes, Frau Dörr, it was in Stralau, on Easter Monday, but it was already as warm as if it were Whitsunday, and because Lina Gansauge likes boating, we took a skiff; and Lina's brother Rudolph, whom I think you know, took the rudder."
"Heavens, Rudolph. Rudolph is a mere boy."
"That is so. But he thought he knew all about it, and he kept saying: 'You must sit still, girls; you rock the boat so,' for he speaks with such a frightful Berlin accent. But we didn't think of doing such a thing, because we soon saw that his steering wasn't good for much. But by and by we forgot all about it, and let ourselves go, and joked with those we met, and splashed each other with water. And in the only boat that was going in the same direction that we were, sat a pair of very fine gentlemen, who saluted us, and we were so reckless that we returned their greetings and Lina even waved her handkerchief, and behaved as if she knew the gentlemen, which however was not the case, and she only wanted to show off, because she is so young. And while we were laughing and joking like that, and only playing with the oars, we saw all at once that the steamer from Treptow was coming towards us, and as you can imagine, dear Frau Dörr, we were frightened to death and called out to Rudolph that he must steer us out of the way. But the boy had lost his head and just steered us round and round in a circle. And then we began to scream and we should surely have been run down if the two gentlemen in the other boat had not at that very moment taken pity on us in our trouble. With a couple of strokes they reached us and while one of them took firm hold of us with a boat hook and made us fast to their boat, the other rowed their boat and ours out of the wake of the steamboat, and only once more did it seem as if the big waves would capsize us. The captain shook his fist at us (I saw that for all my fright), but that was soon over and in another minute we had reached Stralau and the two gentlemen, to whom we owed our rescue, jumped out and gave us their hands and helped us out like regular escorts. And so there we stood on the slip at Tübbecke's, feeling very bashful and Lina was crying softly and only Rudolph, who is always obstinate and boastful, and doesn't like soldiers, looked sullenly before him, as if to say: 'Nonsense, I could have steered you out all right myself.'
"Yes, that is what he is, a boastful young rascal; I know him. But now tell me about the two gentlemen. That is the chief thing...."
"Well, they did what they could for us and then took their places at another table and kept looking over at us. And when we were ready to go home, towards seven o'clock, and it was growing a little dark, one of them came to us and asked 'whether he and his friend might offer to escort us?' And I laughed rather recklessly and said, 'they had rescued us and one must not refuse anything to one's rescuer. But they had really better think about it a little, for we lived almost at the other end of the earth. And it would be really quite a journey.' Thereupon he answered politely, 'All the better.' And meanwhile the other man had come up.... Ah, dear Frau Dörr, perhaps it was not right, to talk so freely at first sight, but one of them took my fancy, and I never knew how to put on any prim airs. And so we walked all the long way home together, first by the Spree and then by the canal."
"And how about Rudolph!"
"He followed after, as if he had nothing to do with us, but he used his eyes and noticed everything. And that was quite right; for Lina is only eighteen and is still a good, innocent child!"
"Do you think so?"
"Certainly, Frau Dörr. You only need to look at her. You can see that at once."
"Yes, usually. But once in a while you can't. And so they saw you home?"
"Yes, Frau Dörr."
"And afterwards?"
"Yes, afterwards. But you know already how it was afterwards. He came the following day to inquire. And ever since he has come often, and I am always glad when he comes. Heavens, it does make one happy to see a little of life. It is often so lonely, away out here. And you know, Frau Dörr, mother has nothing against it and always says: 'Child, that does no harm. Before you know it, you will be old.'"
"Yes indeed," said Frau Dörr, "I have often heard Frau Nimptsch speak like that. And she is quite right too. That is to say, just as one takes it, and to live according to the catechism is really better and, so to speak, actually the best way. You may take my word for it. But I know very well, things do not always go that way, and a great many are not willing to follow those rules. And if one will not, one will not, and things must take their own course as they usually do, so long as one is honest and decent and keeps his word. And naturally, whatever happens, one must put up with it and must not be surprised. And if one knows all this and keeps it in mind, well, then it is not so bad. And really, fanciful notions are the only thing that does any harm."
"Oh, dear Frau Dörr," laughed Lena, "what can you be thinking of? Fanciful notions! I have no fancy notions. If I love anyone, I love him. And that is enough for me. And I want nothing more from him, nothing at all. And it makes me happy that my heart beats so and that I count the hours till he comes, and that I cannot wait until I see him again, that is my joy, and it is enough for me."
"Yes," said Frau Dörr smiling to herself, "that is right, that is as it should be. But Lena, is his name really Botho? No one could have such a name; it is no sort of a Christian, name."
"But it is, Frau Dörr," and Lena seemed as if she wanted to prove the fact that there were such names. But before she could succeed, Sultan barked and one could plainly hear the sound of some one entering from the corridor. The letter carrier came in and brought two orders for Dörr and a letter for Lena.
"My Lord, Hahnke," exclaimed Frau Dörr to the man on whose brow the great drops stood, "you are dripping with sweat. Is it so frightfully hot? And only half-past nine. I see very well that there isn't much fun in being a letter carrier."
And the good soul started to go and get a glass of fresh milk. But Hahnke refused with thanks. "I have no time, Frau Dörr. Some other day." And with these words he left at once.
Meanwhile Lena had opened her letter.
"Well, what does he say?"
"He isn't coming to-day, but to-morrow. Oh, what a long time it is till to-morrow. It is a good thing that I have work; the more work the better. And this afternoon I'll come over to your garden and help you dig. But I don't want Dörr to be there."
"The Lord forbid."
And then they separated and Lena went into the front room to give her old mother the dish of asparagus from Frau Dörr.
And now the next evening had come, the time for Baron Botho's promised visit. Lena was walking up and down in the front garden, but in the large front room Frau Nimptsch sat as usual by the hearth, while to-day again the whole Dörr family had grouped themselves around her. Frau Dörr was knitting with big wooden needles on a blue woolen jacket for her husband, and the work, as yet quite shapeless, lay on her lap like a great fleece. Near her, with his legs comfortably crossed, Dörr was smoking a clay pipe, while his son sat in a big grandfather's chair close to the window, leaning his red head against the "wing" of the chair. Every morning he was up by cockcrow, so to-day he had once more fallen asleep through weariness. There was but little talk, and so nothing was to be heard but the clicking of the needles and the chattering of the squirrel, which from time to time came out of his box and gazed curiously about. The only light came from the fire on the hearth and the afterglow of the sunset.
Frau Dörr sat so that she could look along the garden path and in spite of the twilight she could see who was coming along the road, past the hedge.
"Ah, there he comes," said she. "Now, Dörr, just let your pipe go out. You are just like a chimney to-day, puffing and smoking all day long. And such a stinking old pipe as yours is not fit for everyone."
Dörr did not let such speeches trouble him much and before his wife could say any more or repeat her verdict, the Baron came in. He was visibly mellow, as he had just come from a punch bowl, which had been the subject of a wager at the club, and said, as he took Frau Nimptsch's hand: "Good evening, mother. I hope all is well with you. Ah, and Frau Dörr; and Herr Dörr, my favorite old friend. See here, Dörr, what do you say to the weather? Specially ordered for you and for me too. My meadows at home, that are under water four years out of five and bear nothing but crow's foot, such weather will do them good. And it will do Lena good too; she can stay out of doors more; she is growing too pale to suit me."
Meanwhile Lena had drawn up a wooden chair near her old mother, because she knew that this was Baron Botho's favorite place; but Frau Dörr, who was fully impressed with the idea that a Baron must occupy the seat of honor, had meanwhile risen, and with the blue fleecy mass trailing after her, she called out to her stepson: "Will you get up! I say, now. If there is nothing in him, it's no use to expect anything from him." The poor boy stood up, all stupid and sleepy and was going to give up his seat, but the Baron would not allow it. "For heaven's sake, dear Frau Dörr, leave the poor boy alone. I would far rather sit on a bench; like my friend Dörr here."
And therewith he pushed the chair, which Lena still had ready for him, beside the old mother and said as he sat down:
"Here beside Frau Nimptsch is the best place. I know of no other fireplace that I am as fond of; there is always fire, always warmth. Yes, Mutterchen, that is true, this is the best place."
"Oh my soul," said the old woman. "This is the best place! In an old washerwoman's house."
"Certainly. And why not? Every class and calling is worthy of respect. And a washerwoman too. Do you know, Mutterchen, that here in Berlin there was a famous poet who wrote a poem about his old washerwoman?"
"Is it possible?"
"Of course it is possible. Moreover it is true. And do you know what he said at the end? He said that he wished he could live and die like his old washerwoman. Yes, that is what he said."
"Is it possible?" said the old woman to herself once more, simpering a little.
"And do you know, Mutterchen, now don't you forget it, he was quite right, and I say the very same? Oh yes, you laugh to yourself. But just look about you here. How do you live? Like the good Lord in France. In the first place, you have your house and hearth, and then the garden and Frau Dörr. And then you have Lena. Haven't you? But what has become of her?"
He would have gone on talking, but just then Lena came in with a tray, on which was a carafe of water and some cider, for which the Baron had a preference not easily to be understood, but for his belief in its wonderful curative properties.
"Why Lena, how you spoil me. But you should not offer it to me so formally. It seems just as if I were at the club. You must bring it to me in your hand, it tastes best that way. And now give me your little hand, and let me stroke it. No, no, the left one; that is nearest the heart. And now sit right there, between Herr and Frau Dörr, so that you will be opposite me and I can see you all the time. I have been happy all day, looking forward to this time."
Lena laughed.
"Perhaps you don't believe it? But I can prove it to you, Lena, for I have brought you something from the fine party that we had yesterday. And when one has a little present to bring, he always feels happy about the girl who is to receive it. Isn't that so, my dear Dörr?"
Dörr grinned, but Frau Dörr said: "Lord, he? He bring presents? Dörr is all for scraping and saving. That is the way with gardeners. But I am curious to see what the Herr Baron has brought."
"Well, then I will not keep you waiting any longer, or else dear Frau Dörr might think I have brought a golden slipper or some such thing out of a fairy story. But this is all it is."
And therewith he gave Lena a paper bag, from which, unless all signs failed, the fringed ends of some snapping bonbons peeped out.
They proved to be snapping bonbons and the bag was passed around.
"But now we must pull one, Lena. Hold on tight and shut your eyes."
Frau Dörr was delighted when the cracker snapped, and still more so when Lena's forefinger began to bleed. "That doesn't hurt, Lena, I know it doesn't. It is just like a bride who pricks her finger. I used to know one who was so crazy about it, that she kept pricking herself and sucked and sucked, as if it were something wonderful."
Lena blushed. But Frau Dörr did not notice and went on: "And now read the verse, Herr Baron."
And this is what he read:
When two forget themselves for love,God and the angels rejoice above.
When two forget themselves for love,God and the angels rejoice above.
"Heavens," said Frau Dörr, folding her hands. "That is just like something out of a song book. Is the verse always so pious?"
"I hope not," said Botho. "Not always. Come, dear Frau Dörr, let us pull one and see what we shall get out of it."
And then he pulled again and read:
Where Love's dart has struck well.Wide open stand both heaven and hell.
Where Love's dart has struck well.Wide open stand both heaven and hell.
"Now, Frau Dörr, what do you say to that? It sounds different, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Frau Dörr, "it sounds different. But I don't quite like it.... If I pull a bonbon...."
"Well?"
"Then I don't want anything about hell to come out, I don't want to hear that there is any such thing."
"Nor I either," laughed Lena. "Frau Dörr is quite right: for that matter, she is always right. But really, when one reads such a verse, one has always something to start with, I mean to begin a conversation with, for the beginning is always the hardest, just as it is with writing letters. And I simply cannot imagine how you can begin a conversation at once with no more ado, with so many strange ladies, for you are not all acquainted with each other."
"Oh, my dear Lena," said Botho, "it isn't so hard as you think. It is really quite easy. If you like, I will give you a dinner-table conversation now."
Frau Dörr and Frau Nimptsch said that they would like to hear it and Lena too nodded her assent.
"Now," went on Baron Botho, "you must imagine that you are a little Countess. And I have just escorted you to the table and sat down and we are taking the first spoonful of soup."
"Very well. But what now?"
"And now I say to you: 'If I am not mistaken, I saw you yesterday at the flower show, you and your mother together. It is not surprising. The weather entices us out every day now and we might almost say that it is fit for travelling. Have you made any plans for the summer, Countess?' And now you answer, that unfortunately nothing is settled yet, because your papa is determined to go to Bavaria, while your dearest wish is to see Saxon Switzerland with the Königstein and the Bastei."
"It really is," laughed Lena.
"You see, that goes very well. And then I go on: 'Yes, gracious Countess, in that we share the same tastes. I prefer Saxon Switzerland to any other part of the world, even to the actual Switzerland itself. One cannot always revel in the grander aspects of nature, and clamber and get out of breath all the time. But Saxon Switzerland! Heavenly, ideal. There is Dresden; in a quarter or a half hour I can be there, and I can see pictures, the theatre, the great gardens, the Zwinger, and the green vault. Do not neglect to see the tankard with the foolish virgins, and above all things that cherry stone, on which the whole of the Lord's prayer is carved. It can only be seen through the magnifying glass.'"
"So that is the way you talk!"
"Exactly, my darling. And when I have paid sufficient attention to my left-hand neighbor, that is, the Countess Lena, I turn to my right-hand neighbor, that is, to Madame the Baroness Dörr...."
Frau Dörr was so delighted that she slapped her knee with a loud noise....
"So I am to converse with Madame the Baroness Dörr? And what shall we talk about? Well, say we talk about mushrooms."
"But, great heavens, mushrooms. About mushrooms, Herr Baron, that would never do."
"Oh why not, why shouldn't it do, dear Frau Dörr? That is a very serious and instructive subject and is more important than you think. I once visited a friend in Poland, a comrade in my regiment and also during the war, who lived in a great castle; it was red and had two huge towers, and was so fearfully old, that you never see anything like it nowadays. And the last room was his living room; for he was unmarried, because he was a woman hater...."
"Is it possible?"
"And everywhere the old rotten boards were trodden through and wherever there were a couple of boards lacking, there was a mushroom bed, and I passed by all the mushroom beds, until at last I came to his room."
"Is it possible?" repeated Frau Dörr and added: "Mushrooms! But one cannot always be talking about mushrooms."
"No, not always. But really quite often, and anyway it makes no difference what you talk about. If it isn't mushrooms it is 'champignons,' and if it is not the red castle in Poland it is Schloss Tegel or Saatwinkel, or Valentinswerder. Or Italy or Paris, or the city railway, or whether the Panke should be filled in. It is all the same. One can always talk a little about anything, whether it is especially pleasing or not. And 'yes' is just as good as 'no.'"
"But," said Lena, "if all the talk is so empty, I am surprised that you should go into such company."
"Oh you see beautiful women and handsome gowns and sometimes you catch glances that will betray a whole romance, if you look sharp. And anyway, it does not last long, so that you still have a chance to make up for lost time at the club. And at the club it is really charming, for there the artificial talk ceases and reality begins. Yesterday I took Pitt's black mare from him."
"Who is Pitt?"
"Oh, those are just names that we have among ourselves, and we use them when we are together. The Crown Prince himself says Vicky, in speaking of Victoria. It really is pleasant that there are such affectionate pet names. But listen, the concert is beginning over there. Can't we open the windows, so as to hear it better? You are already tapping with your foot. How would it do for us to take our places and try a Quadrille or a Française? We have three couples: Father Dörr and good Frau Nimptsch, and Frau Dörr and I (I beg the honor) and then comes Lena with Hans."
Frau Dörr agreed at once, but Dörr and Frau Nimptsch declined, the latter because she was too old, the former because he was not used to such fine doings.
"Very well, Father Dörr. But then you must beat time; Lena, give him the tray and a spoon. And now come, ladies. Frau Dörr, your arm. And now Hans, wake up, be lively."
And both pairs actually took their places and Frau Dörr's stateliness visibly increased, as her partner began in a formal, dancing-master's French: "En avant deux, Pas de Basque." The poor sleepy freckle-faced boy looked about mechanically and allowed himself to be shoved here and there, but the three others danced as if they knew how, and old Dörr was so delighted that he jumped up and beat time on his tray with his knuckles instead of with his spoon. The spirit of other days seemed to return to Frau Nimptsch also, and since she found nothing better to do, she poked the fire until the flames leaped up.
This went on until the music stopped; Botho led Frau Dörr back to her place, but Lena still stood there, because the poor awkward boy did not know what he ought to do with her. But that suited Botho exactly, for when the music at the garden began again, he began to waltz with her, and to whisper to her, how charming she was, more charming than ever.
They had all grown warm, especially Frau Dörr, who now stood close to the open window. "Lord, how I am shivering," said she suddenly, whereupon Both courteously sprang forward to close the window. But Frau Dörr would not hear of such a thing and said, the fine people were all wild about fresh air, and many of them so much so that the bed coverings froze to their mouths in winter. Their breath was just like the steam from the spout of the kettle. So the window must stay open, she would not give up that point. But if dear Lena had something comforting to give them, something to warm the cockles of the heart ...
"Certainly, Frau Dörr, whatever you want. I can make tea, or punch, or better still, I have the cherry brandy, that you gave Mother Nimptsch and me last Christmas for my big Christmas cake."
And before Frau Dörr could decide between punch and tea, the flask of cherry brandy was already there, with small and large glasses which each could fill according to their own desire. And now Lena went around, the black kettle in her hand, and poured the boiling water into the glasses. "Not too much, Lena, not too much. Let us get the good of it. Water takes away the strength." And in a moment the room was full of the rising aroma of cherry brandy.
"How nicely you did that," said Botho, as he sipped from his glass. "Lord knows, I had nothing yesterday, nor to-day at the club that tasted like this. Hurrah for Lena! But the chief credit of it all belongs to our friend, Frau Dörr, because she had that shivering fit, and so I am going to drink a second health. Frau Dörr; Hurrah for Frau Dörr."
"Long may she live," shouted all the group together, and old Dörr began to thump his tray with his knuckles again.
They all pronounced it a delicate drink, far finer than punch extract, which in summer always tastes of sour lemon, because you mostly get old bottles, which have been standing in the hot sun, in shop windows, ever since Shrove Tuesday. But cherry brandy was something wholesome and never spoiled, and rather than poison one's self with that bitter almond poison one ought to take some proper good stuff, at least a bottle.
It was Frau Dörr who made this remark, and her husband, who did not want things to go too far, perhaps because he knew his wife's pet weakness, urged their departure: "There will be another day to-morrow."
Botho and Lena asked them to stay a while longer. But good Frau Dörr, who well knew "that one must yield at the proper time, in order to keep the upper hand," merely said: "Never mind, Lena, I know him; he wants to go to bed with the birds." "Well," said Botho, "what is settled is settled. But at least we will escort the Dörrs home."
And therewith everybody went out, excepting old Frau Nimptsch, who looked after her departing friends amiably, nodding her head, and then got up and seated herself in the big grandfather chair.
Lena and Botho paused before the "castle" with the green and red painted tower and asked Dörr with considerable formality for permission to go into the garden and walk there for half an hour. The evening was so fine. Father Dörr muttered that he could not leave his property in better hands, whereupon the young couple took leave, bowing courteously, and went into the garden. Everything was already quiet, and only Sultan, whom they had to pass, got up, and whimpered until Lena had stroked him. After that he crawled back into his kennel.
In the garden all was perfume and freshness, for all the way along the principal path, between the currant and gooseberry bushes, grew gilly flowers and mignonette, whose delicate perfume mingled with the more powerful odour of the thyme beds. Nothing stirred in the trees, and only the fireflies darted through the air.
Lena was hanging on Botho's arm and they walked together to the end of the garden, where a bench stood between two silver poplars.
"Shall we sit down?"
"No," said Lena, "not now," and she turned into a side path bordered with tall raspberry bushes which nearly overtopped the garden fence. "I love to walk leaning on your arm. Tell me about something--something really pretty. Or ask me about something."
"Very well. Are you willing that I should have more of a friendship with the Dörrs?"
"As far as I am concerned."
"A curious couple. And moreover, I think, they are happy. He has to do as she wishes, and yet he is far cleverer than she."
"Yes," said Lena, "he is cleverer, but then he is miserly and hard-hearted and that makes him docile, because he always has a bad conscience. She looks after him sharply and will not allow it, if he tries to overreach anyone. And that is what he is afraid of, and that makes him yielding."
"Is that all?"
"Perhaps love, too, if it does sound strange. I mean love on his side. For in spite of his fifty-six years or more he is perfectly wild over his wife, simply because she is stout. Both of them have made me the most wonderful confessions about that. But I confess frankly, she is not to my taste."
"But you are wrong there, Lena; she makes quite a figure."
"Yes," laughed Lena, "she makes a figure, but she has none. Can't you see, that her hips are a hand's breath too high? But you never see anything like that, and 'figure' and 'imposing' are every other word with you, without any concern as to the origin of that 'imposing figure.'"
Chatting and teasing each other thus they paused and stooped down to see if they could find an early strawberry in the bed that lay in front of the hedge and fence. Finally Lena found what she wanted, took the stem of a perfect beauty between her lips and came close up to Botho and looked at him.
He was nothing loth, plucked the berry from her lips and embraced and kissed her.
"My sweet Lena, you did that just right. But just hear how Sultan is barking; he wants to get to you; shall I let him loose?"
"No, if he is here, you are only half mine. And if you keep on talking about 'stately Frau Dörr,' then I have as good as nothing left of you at all."
"Good," laughed Botho, "Sultan may stay where he is. I am contented. But I want to talk more about Frau Dörr. Is she really so good?"
"Yes, she really is, for all that she says strange things--things that sound as if they have a double meaning and perhaps really have. But she knows nothing about that, and in her doings and behavior there is not the least thing that could recall her past."
"Has she a past then?"
"Yes. At least she had some sort of a relation for years and 'went with him' as she calls it. And there is no sort of doubt that there was plenty of talk about that affair, and of course about good Frau Dörr herself. And she herself must have given occasion for it again and again. Only she is so simple that she never gave it a thought, still less reproached anyone. She speaks of it as an unpleasant service, that she faithfully and honorably fulfilled, simply from a sense of duty. You may laugh, and it does sound queer. But I don't know any other way to tell it. And now let us leave Frau Dörr alone and sit down and look at the crescent moon."
And in fact, the moon stood just above the elephant house, which, in the flood of silver light, looked even more fantastic than usual. Lena pointed to it, drew her hood closer and hid her face on Botho's breast.
So the minutes passed by, silent and happy, and only when Lena aroused, as if from a dream that escaped her, and sat up again, did she say: "What were you thinking of? But you must tell me the truth."
"What was I thinking of, Lena? Why, I am almost ashamed to tell you. I had some sentimental thoughts and was thinking of our kitchen garden at Castle Zehden, which is laid out so much like this of the Dörr's, the same lettuce beds with cherry trees between and I would almost wager, just as many bird houses. And even the asparagus beds run the same way. And I would walk amongst them with my mother and if she was in a good humor, she would give me the knife and let me help her. But woe be unto me if I were careless and cut the asparagus stalk too long or too short. My mother's hand was hasty."
"I well believe it. And I always feel as if I ought to be afraid of her."
"Afraid? How so? Why, Lena?"
Lena laughed merrily and yet her laughter was a trifle forced. "You must not take it into your head that I have any intention of presenting myself before the gracious lady; you must just feel as if I had said that I am afraid of the Empress. That would not make you think that I meant to go to court? No, don't be afraid; I shall never complain of you."
"No, you wouldn't do that. You are much too proud for that, and then you are a regular little democrat, and every friendly word has to be almost choked out of you. Isn't that so? But however that may be, describe my mother, as you imagine her. How does she look?"
"Very much like you: tall and slender and blond and blue-eyed."
"Poor Lena (and now the laugh was on his side), you have missed it this time. My mother is a little woman with bright black eyes and a long nose."
"I don't believe it. It isn't possible."
"And yet it is true. You must remember that I have a father too. But that never occurs to you. You always think that you women are the principal thing. And now tell me something about my mother's character. But make a better guess."
"I think of her as very much concerned for the welfare of her children."
"Correct."
"... And that all her children must make wealthy, yes very wealthy marriages. And I know too, whom she has ready for you."
"An unfortunate woman, whom you ..."
"How you do mistake me. Believe me, that I have you now, for this very hour, is my joy. What follows does not trouble me. One of these days you will have flown away...."
He shook his head.
"Don't shake your head; what I say is true. You love me and are true to me; at least in my love I am childish and vain enough to believe so. But you will fly away, I see that clearly enough. You will have to. The saying is that love makes us blind, but it also makes us see far and clear."
"Ah, Lena, you do not know how dearly I love you."
"Oh yes, I do. And I know too that you think of your Lena as something set apart, and every day you think, 'if only she were a Countess.' But it is too late for that now, I can never bring it about. You love me, and you are weak. That cannot be altered. All handsome men are weak and the stronger spirit rules over them.... And the stronger spirit ... now, who is that? Either it is your mother, or people's talk, or your connections. Or perhaps all three ... But just look."
And she pointed towards the Zoological Garden, where through the darkness of the trees and foliage a rocket rushed hissing into the air and with a puff burst into a countless shower of sparks. A second followed the first and so it went on, as if they were chasing and trying to catch up with one another, until of a sudden the rockets ceased and the shrubbery began to glow in a green and red light. A couple of birds cried out harshly in their cages and then after a long pause the music began again.
"Do you know, Botho, what I would give, if I could lean on your arm and walk with you over there up and down that school for scandal, as safely as here among the box borders, and if I could say to everyone: 'Yes, you may wonder at us, he is he and I am I, and he loves me and I love him,'--do you know what I would give? But don't guess, for you never could. You only know yourself and your club and your life. Oh, the poor little life."
"Don't speak so, Lena."
"Why not? One must look everything squarely in the face and not whiten anything over, and above all one must not whiten one's self. But it is growing cold and they are through over there. That is the last piece that they are playing now. Come, we will go in and sit by the fireside, the fire will not be out yet and my mother has long since gone to bed."
So they walked back along the garden path, she leaning lightly on his shoulder. The lights were all out in the "castle" and only Sultan gazed after them, thrusting his head out of his kennel. But he did not move and only some dim, sullen thoughts passed through his brain.
It was the next week after the events narrated, and the chestnut trees were already in bloom. They were blossoming also in Bellevue Street. Baron Botho lived here in a ground floor apartment that extended through from a front balcony to one that opened on a garden: there was a living-room, a dining-room, and a bedroom, which were distinguished by a tasteful furnishing decidedly beyond the means of their owner. In the dining-room there were two pictures of still life by Hertel and between these a bear hunt, an admirable copy from Rubens, while in the living-room the "show piece" was a storm at sea by Andreas Achenbach, surrounded by several smaller pictures by the same artist. The storm picture had come into Baron Botho's possession by chance at a lottery, and by means of this beautiful and valuable work he had gained the reputation of a connoisseur and especially of an admirer of Achenbach. He joked freely about this and used to declare "that his luck at the lottery cost him quite dear, because it continually led him to make new purchases, adding that it was perhaps the same with all good fortune."
Before the sofa, the plush of which was covered with a Persian rug, the coffee apparatus stood on a malachite table, while on the sofa itself all kinds of political journals were lying about, and amongst these some whose presence in this place seemed rather peculiar, and could only be explained by Baron Botho's favorite phrase "fiddlesticks before politics." Stories which bore the stamp of imagination, so-called "pearls," amused him the most. A canary bird, whose cage always stood open at breakfast time, was flying as usual to light on the hand or shoulder of his too-indulgent master, who, instead of being impatient, put his paper aside every time to stroke his little favorite. But if he omitted the caress, the little creature would cling to the reader's neck and beard and chirp long and persistently until he had his way. "All favorites are alike," said Baron Rienäcker, "they expect humility and obedience."
Just now the door bell rang and the servant came in to bring the letters. One, a gray, square envelope, was open and bore a three pfennig stamp. "Hamburg lottery tickets or new cigars," said Rienäcker, and threw envelope and contents aside without further consideration. "But this one ... Ah, from Lena. I will save this for the last, unless this third sealed one contends for the honor. The Osten crest. Then it is from Uncle Kurt Anton: the Berlin postmark means that he is already here. What can he want now? Ten to one, he wants me to breakfast with him or to buy a saddle or to escort him to Renz, or perhaps to Kroll also; most likely I am to do the one and not omit the other."
And he took a knife from the window-sill and cut open the envelope, on which he had recognized also Uncle Osten's handwriting, and took out the letter. The letter read: