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CHAPTER XIII
A Walk Along the River Bank
SOME time later Bianca and Carlo Navara, not having seen each other alone since New Year's eve, left the hospital early in the afternoon for a walk together.
As a matter of fact Carlo's conscience had not been altogether easy concerning his neglect of Bianca since their days together at Château-Thierry. And certainly before those days he had reason to be grateful to Bianca and fond of her as well! Moreover, a little private talk with Sonya on this same subject, when Sonya had not spared his vanity, had quickened his resolution. Curious, Sonya had said, that the artist so seldom considers loyalty an essential trait of his own character when he demands so much loyalty from others! And yet one knows that without loyalty no human character has any real value!
Yet Carlo was not thinking of these ideas in detail when he and Bianca started out.
It was a February day with the faintest suggestion of spring in the damp, cold air.
Nevertheless, Bianca herself had chosen that they walk along the river bank, following a path until they reached the promenade which extended along a portion of the Rhine at Coblenz like the famous board walk of Atlantic City.
Holding tight to Carlo's hand, they slipped down the hill from behind the hospital until reaching this path.
But once on fairly level ground, Bianca deliberately removed her hand from her companion's and began walking sedately beside him several feet away.
"Why not walk as we have many times with my hand in your's to keep you from slipping, Bianca?" Carlo inquired with a teasing inflection in his voice and manner. "I thought you and I were kind of brother and sister. I don't want you sliding off into the water."
As Bianca made no answer, Carlo turned from her to look out over the river. Today the water was dark and muddy with a strong current flowing.
"Bianca," Carlo asked, "have you ever read the story of the Rheingold in the Ring of the Nibelung? One has had a horror of Germany for so long that one has preferred to forget German music. Yet since we arrived in Germany I have been reading the legends of the Rheingold and they seem to me to predict Germany's overthrow because of her materialism.
"Since to me Gold is the only God, and Gold alone
The idol that I worship, from all worlds
Will I drive out all love and loving-kindness
That to all other men there be no other God
But Gold, and Gold alone shall all men serve."
Carlo sang these few lines softly, forgetting his companion for the moment. Then he added half talking to her and half thinking aloud.
"I wonder if some day, I, the son of Italian parents, shall ever sing German music, if my hatred of Germany and antagonism to everything else that is German will allow me even to be willing to sing it. And yet I suppose there is no great tenor who has not at some time in his life longed to take the part of Siegfried, 'The curse can touch him not for he is pure, Love shineth on him and he knows not fear.'"
Carlo ceased speaking at last and in response Bianca gave a little sigh and then murmured.
"I wonder, Carlo, if you will ever learn to think or talk of any one except yourself?"
Bianca's reply was so unexpected that Carlo started and then stared at her, aggrieved and slightly irritated.
"But, Bianca, I thought that we were such intimate friends that I could talk to you about myself, and certainly of my musical ambitions. I am sorry my vanity has bored you."
The young girl shook her head.
"All persons possessed of any genius are supposed to be vain, aren't they, Carlo? I have known no other than you. But as for our being intimate friends, why, I do not feel that we are intimate friends any longer. After all, Carlo, I cannot give all the affection and it seems to me that is what you expect. When we first knew each other and I wanted to help you because I understood that you cared for Sonya in a way which she could not return, and afterwards when you were wounded and I tried to find you in Château-Thierry, I did not think or care, besides Sonya was Sonya! But now things are different."
For a few seconds Carlo studied the little cold, pure profile of the girl beside him. One had a habit of forgetting that Bianca was approaching eighteen, and then suddenly in some unexpected fashion she reminded you that she was by no means a child.
"I suppose you are referring to my friendship with Miss Thompson since our arrival in Coblenz, Bianca, or if not to our friendship at least to the fact that we have been dancing together nearly every afternoon when we both have leave. Can't you understand, Bianca, that it is sometimes pretty dull for one here in Coblenz now the excitement and thrill of the struggle for the allied victory is past? And now and then it seems to me I can scarcely endure waiting to return to the United States and begin to work again on my music. And yet one must prove as good a soldier at one time as another. Yet what is the harm in my amusing myself? I have thought Sonya also appeared disapproving of late. Miss Thompson is not only an extraordinary dancer, but she is most agreeable and – "
At this instant, having come to the end of the muddy path, Carlo and Bianca had reached the wide board walk which extended for some distance along the river. This afternoon it was as crowded with people as if Coblenz were enjoying a holiday instead of being a city occupied by a conquering army.
Observing his commanding officer, Major James Hersey, approaching, accompanied by Sergeant Donald Hackett, Carlo saluted and stood at attention. When they had gone past he turned once more to Bianca, his slight attack of bad temper having vanished.
"Not jealous, are you, Bee? You must realize that whatever friendships I may make, I shall always be fond of you."
If Carlo had been noticing his companion at this moment, he would have seen that Bianca flushed warmly at his condescension, and that she was extremely angry, and few people ever saw Bianca angry, not perhaps because she did not feel the emotion of anger, but because she possessed a rather remarkable self control.
"I don't think we will discuss the question of my being jealous, Carlo, you have scarcely the right to believe that I care for you enough for any such absurdity. I don't like Miss Thompson very much and neither does Sonya. Oh, there is no real reason for disliking her! But if you are under the impression that she likes you specially, Carlo, I think you are mistaken. She just likes to amuse herself too, and of course there is no harm in it."
Bianca's speech sounded perfectly childlike and yet perhaps she had a good deal of instinctive cleverness.
In any case Carlo felt annoyed.
"But suppose we don't talk personalities any more, Carlo," Bianca apologized almost immediately. "Naturally we can't always like the same people. I have never been able to get over my disappointment because the Countess Charlotta was not allowed to come with us to Coblenz. Sonya and I have nearly quarreled about her half a dozen times. And I suppose it is not alone that I am sorry for the Countess Charlotta, but because I do need a girl friend so dreadfully, Carlo. It seems strange doesn't it, and I am almost ashamed to speak of it, but I have never had a really intimate girl friend in my life. I suppose this may be partly due to the queer circumstances of my life. You see with my father dead and my mother an Italian peasant, who wished to make my life so different from her own that I was not allowed to associate even with her very closely, and then being brought up by a foster mother who did not encourage other girls to make friends with me, because she might have to tell them of my peculiar history, I suppose I did not have much of a chance for friendships with the kind of girls I would like to have known! Then I realize that I have not a very attractive disposition."
Bianca's little unconscious confession of loneliness had its instantaneous effect upon her companion.
"Don't be a goose, Bianca mia," Carlo answered, using an Italian phrase which he sometimes employed, recalling the bond of their first meeting in Italy several years before. "But who is this Countess Charlotta whom you desire to have with you here in Coblenz in order that you may continue your friendship?"
Just an instant Bianca appeared troubled and then her expression cleared.
"Perhaps I should not have spoken of the Countess Charlotta, not even to you, Carlo, only of course I know I can trust you. She was a young girl who was ill in our temporary hospital in Luxemburg. I thought of course she would write me, as she promised to write when we said goodby. But I have never had a line from her and neither has Sonya although Sonya and I have both written her since our arrival in Coblenz. I am afraid something must have occurred to prevent her writing and so I have been uneasy."
Bianca's speech was not especially clear, nevertheless Carlo listened sympathetically and asked no embarrassing questions.
A little time after they entered the famous Coblenzhof where Bianca had been invited to have tea.
It was crowded with people and looked like Sherry's on a Saturday afternoon.
Both Carlo and Bianca gazed around them in amazement.
The people were all comfortably, some of them almost handsomely dressed, even if with little taste, but this was usual in Germany. They were drinking coffee and eating little oatmeal cakes and appeared contented and serene, even without their famous "Deutsche kuchen."
"I sometimes wonder, Carlo," Bianca whispered, when they were seated at a small table in a corner, "if some of these people are not glad after all that the Kaiser has been defeated and that they are to have a new form of government and more personal freedom? They certainly seem to be glad the fighting is over. I suppose they had grown deadly tired of it and of being deceived by their leaders."
Carlo shook his head warningly.
"Be careful, Bianca. In spite of what you think there are still thousands of people in Coblenz faithful both to the Kaiser and his principles. Some of them may seem friendly to us, but the greater number are sullen and suspicious, regardless of the order that they are to appear as friendly as possible to our American troops. Yet somehow one can't help feeling as if there were plots against us of which we know nothing, just as there was in every allied country before the beginning of the war."
Carlo smiled.
"Here I am saying the very character of thing I asked you not to speak of, Bianca! By the way, do you suppose we know any people here? Let us look around and see."
CHAPTER XIV
Major James Hersey
ARRANGEMENTS had been made in Coblenz for the quartering of the officers of the American Army of Occupation in certain German homes, payment being made in an ordinary business fashion.
On arriving in Coblenz, after his illness in Luxemburg, Major Jimmie Hersey discovered that especially comfortable accommodations had been prepared for him. Also he was to have as his companion, a personal friend, Sergeant Donald Hackett an exception being made to the sergeant's living in the same house with his commanding officer.
The household in which the two young Americans were located was one of the many households at this time in Germany whose state of mind it would have been difficult for any outsider to have understood or explained.
The head of the family, Colonel Otto Liedermann, was an old man, now past seventy, who had once been a member of the Kaiser's own guard. His son, Captain Ludwig Liedermann had been seriously wounded six months before the close of the war, and, although at present in his own home, was still said to be too ill to leave his apartment. There was one grown daughter, Hedwig, who must have been a little over twenty years of age. The second wife, Frau Liedermann, was much younger than her husband, and her children were two charming little girls, Freia and Gretchen, who were but six and eight years old.
Outwardly the German family was apparently hospitably disposed to their enemy guests, although they made no pretence of too great friendliness. They saw that the Americans were cared for, that their food was well cooked and served. Yet only the two little girls, Freia and Gretchen, possessed of no bitter memories, were disposed to be really friendly.
And in boyish, American fashion, the two young officers, who were slightly embarrassed by living among a family with whom they had so lately been at war, returned the attitude of admiration and cordiality of the little German maids.
Freia was a slender, grave little girl with sunshiny hair and large, soft blue eyes, and Gretchen like her, only smaller and stouter with two little yellow pigtails, and dimples, in her pink cheeks.
One afternoon Major Jimmie Hersey was sitting alone in a small parlor devoted to his private use and staring at a picture on the mantel.
His work for the day was over, the drill hour was past and the soldiers, save those on special leave, had returned to their barracks.
One could scarcely have said that the young American officer was homesick, for there is something really more desolate than this misfortune. He was without a home anywhere in the world for which he could be lonely. An only son, his mother had died when he had been six months in France.
It was true that he had a sister to whom he was warmly attached, but she had married since her brother's departure for Europe, and for this reason he did not feel as if she belonged to him in the old fashion of the past.
At the moment he was looking at his mother's photograph and thinking of their happy times together when he was a boy. In spite of his present youthful appearance Major James Hersey regarded himself as extremely elderly, what with the experiences of the past years of war in France and his own personal loss, and the fact that he was approaching twenty-five.
Then from thinking of his mother, Jimmie, whose title never concerned him save when he was commanding his men, suddenly bethought himself of the young Countess Charlotta. It was odd how often he recalled a mental picture of her, when they had met but once. He had seen her again, however, on the morning when she had left the hospital at Luxemburg. Then he had watched from a window the carriage which drove her away.
Somehow the young Countess Charlotta in spite of her different surroundings, had struck him as being as lonely as he was.
Then Major Jimmie smiled, realizing that he was growing sentimental. Yet the girl's story had been a romantic one and she had confided in him so frankly. After all, one does enjoy being sorry for oneself now and then!
The young officer at this instant was disturbed in his meditations by hearing a little sound beside him.
Glancing around he beheld Gretchen, the youngest daughter of the German house. This was the first time since his arrival in her home that he had ever seen the small girl without Freia, her two years older and wiser sister.
Plainly enough by her expression Gretchen showed that she resented this misfortune. There were tears in her large light eyes and her little button of a nose was noticeably pink.
"What is it, baby?" the young officer demanded, his sympathy immediately aroused and glad also to be diverted from his own train of thought.
"It is that Freia has been allowed to go to play this afternoon with the lady from the Red Cross and the little French girl and that I must stay at home," the little girl lamented, speaking in German that her listener could readily understand. Major Hersey had studied German at school as a boy and during the last few weeks of residence in Germany had been surprised by recalling more of his German vocabulary than he had dreamed of knowing.
"Freia would like to bring FrauleinFraulein Jamisen home with her only she will not come." Gretchen sighed, although beginning already to feel more comfortable.
It was warmer in her Major's room than in any portion of their large house; a small wood fire was burning in his grate. The little girl grew disposed toward further confidences.
"People come to our home all the time to see my brother, but Freia and I are never allowed in the room, only my father. Then they whisper together so we may not hear."
Major Hersey smiled; Gretchen was a born gossip, even in her babyhood, already he had observed that she deeply enjoyed recounting the histories of her family and friends, more especially what Gretchen unconsciously must have regarded as their weaknesses.
"But your brother, Captain Liedermann, is ill, perhaps it is natural that he does not wish a little chatterbox about him all the time. If I had been confined to my bed for as many months as he has, why I should have turned into a great bear. One day you would have come in to speak to me, Gretchen, and then you would have heard a low growl and two arms would have gone around you and hugged you like this," and Major Hersey suited his action to his words.
After a little squeak half of delight and half of fear, Gretchen settled herself more comfortably in her companion's lap.
However, she was not to be deterred from continuing her own line of conversation.
In the years to come, Major Jimmie had a vision of this same little German girl, grown older and stouter, her yellow pigtails bound round her wide head, sitting beside just such a fireside as his own and talking on and on of her own little interests and concerns, forever contented if her hearer would only pretend to listen.
For the sake of the listener of the future Jimmie hoped that the small Gretchen would continue to have the same soothing effect that she was at present producing upon him.
"My brother is not always in bed," Gretchen protested. "Now and then when he thinks he is alone, and I am only peeping in at the door, he climbs out of bed and walks about his room. One day one of his friends was in the room with him and when he got up and stamped about they both laughed."
"Oh, well, any fellow would laugh if he was growing strong again after a long illness," Major Hersey answered a little sleepily, realizing that Gretchen really required no comment on his part.
"Besides, you must be mistaken, your mother told me that Captain Liedermann had not been so well of late, nothing serious, a little infection in a wound he had believed healed. As for guests who come frequently to your brother's room, why I never knew so quiet a household as your's, kleines Madchen! During the many hours I am here in this sitting-room, no one ever rings the front door bell or passes my door."
As a matter of fact Major Hersey's sitting-room was upon the first floor of the house and near its entrance. Formerly his room must have been either a small study or reception room, as the large drawing-rooms were across the hall. But these were never in use at the present time and kept always darkened, as a household symbol that all gayety and pleasure had vanished from the homes of Germany.
It occurred to Jimmie Hersey at this instant to wonder if Hedwig Liedermann had no friends. She was a handsome girl with light brown hair and eyes and a gentle manner. Surely there must be some young German officer in Coblenz who regarded her with favor! But if this were true he had never appeared at her home at any hour when Major Hersey had caught sight of him. It would not be difficult to recognize a German officer, even if he should be wearing civilian clothes.
Besides why did Fraulein Liedermann not entertain her girl friends in the drawing-rooms of her home? These rooms must have been used for social purposes before the war, as the position of Colonel Liedermann's family in Coblenz was of almost equal importance with the German nobility.
"Oh, no one comes to call upon us at the front door any longer," Gretchen added amiably. "You see you are an American officer and use this door and our friends do not wish to see you. They do not seem to like you."
"They – they don't," Major Hersey thought other things to himself, although naturally, in view of his audience, saying nothing unpleasant aloud.
How stupid he was not to have guessed what the smallest daughter of the house had just related! After all one could understand, the German viewpoint since in spite of having been told to love our enemies, how few of us have accomplished it?
It could not be agreeable to the defeated officers and soldiers of the conquered German army to enter the homes of their friends and find them occupied by the victors.
"Better run away now, Gretchen, it must be getting near your tea-time," the American officer suggested, the little girl having occasioned an unpleasant train of thought by her final chatter.
But before Gretchen, who was not disposed to hurry, had departed, they were both startled by the sudden ringing of the front door bell, the bell whose silence they had been discussing, then they heard the noise of people outside.
A little later, one of the maids having opened the door, Gretchen and Major Hersey recognized familiar voices in the hall.
The same instant Gretchen escaped.
Then followed a cry from Frau Liedermann, and Sergeant Hackett's voice and another voice replying.
Major Hersey, unable to guess what had taken place, and anxious, joined the little group outside his door.
In his arms Sergeant Hackett was carrying Freia. It was apparent that the little girl must have fallen and hurt herself, yet evidently her injury was not serious. They were accompanied by Nora Jamison and the little French girl, Louisa.
"I am so sorry, Frau Liedermann, a number of children were playing in the park and Freia must have fallen among some stones. She was so frightened I thought it best to come home with her and we had the good fortune to meet Sergeant Hackett along the way. I don't think you will find there is anything serious the matter; I am sorry if we have alarmed you. I must return now to the hospital."
At this moment unexpectedly Frau Liedermann began to weep. She was a little like a grown-up Gretchen, and one felt instinctively that she was out of place in her husband's household. He was a stern and gloomy old man, possibly too proud to reveal to strangers how bitterly angered he was by the German defeat and the disgrace of his former emperor.
But Freia, whose name came to her from the legendary German goddess, who represented "Life and light and laughter and love," was the adored child of the family and particularly of the little mother to whom she was "her wonder child."
"But you will stay and see if Freia is seriously hurt? You are a Red Cross nurse and must know better than I," Frau Liedermann pleaded. "Freia has so often said that she wished to have us meet, but you would not come to our home and I could not go to you at your American Red Cross hospital. Can the war not be over among us women at least? I have relatives, brothers and sisters in America from whom I have not heard in four years. Yet my husband thinks I am not a true German because I wish to be happy and make friends again with our former foes."
Just for a fraction of a second Nora Jamison's eyelids were lowered and her face changed color. Was it possible that she did not desire to forgive and forget as the little German frau appeared to wish? Was there not a grave near Château-Thierry and a memory which must forever divide them?
And yet of course one did not wish to be unkind.
"Please stay just a minute," Freia pleaded.
The following moment Major Hersey watched the little procession climbing the stairs to the second floor of the house where the family were living at present. First Frau Liedermann led the way, then Freia walking, but holding close to Miss Jamison's hand, Gretchen and Louisa just behind them.
Afterwards Major Hersey was glad to have been a witness to this first introduction of Nora Jamison, into the German household.
