Читать книгу: «Life in a German Crack Regiment», страница 8

"Shall we really go to Paris?" she asked, with beaming eyes.

"If all goes well, to-morrow evening. We will take my man with us. I can rely absolutely on his silence. You will get in at the North Station, I at the South. I will carefully examine the train to see if any of my acquaintances are in it, and I will have a carriage reserved for us, so that we may travel in state. And if anybody sees us together later on, what does it matter? And, besides, who knows us in Paris?"

"Have you ever been there?"

"Yes."

He began to tell of the beauties and charms of Paris, and, tenderly clinging to him, she listened to his description of the delights which she was to enjoy with him.

CHAPTER VII
An Aristocratic Household

Hildegarde's father was about to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, and the old major had expressed a wish to see his two children on that day. Fritz had naturally made use of this occasion of rejoicing as an excuse for asking the Warnows to lend him a good sum for travelling expenses; of course he had to travel first-class, and take his man with him, besides which he really must give the old gentleman a nice present for his birthday. So Captain von Warnow had once more given him a £50 note. Fritz, thereupon, had naturally tried his luck at cards, and he had the disgrace, as he himself called it, of winning a couple of hundred pounds from the owner of an estate in the neighbourhood; this did not often happen to him; he beamed with joy, and for the first time for many days he found once more that life was still endurable.

Hildegarde at first did not want to make the journey, she felt hurt at her father's letter, in which he wrote: "My dear child, I should, of course, be immensely delighted to see you, but my personal wishes must not be considered if there is anything important at stake. If you cannot come, or find it unwise to go away now for a few days, then stay where you are and strike while the iron is hot."

She did not want to go, for she foresaw exactly what would happen at home, but her aunt persuaded her to take the journey. Winkler was on furlough, so it was said, at Monte Carlo and on the Riviera, he was not returning for a week. There were no big entertainments before then, and in any case, if Winkler were away, there would be no object in going to them, it would only mean the unnecessary expense of new dresses. She had no desire to throw away her money on men who had no serious intentions with regard to her niece. And there was also another reason why Frau von Warnow urged Hildegarde to go; she wanted to be alone with her husband again and to be able to do something else during the week but worry and bother about her engagement. She was thankful that George and Hildegarde would be away at the same time. In a week they would both be back, and it was to be hoped that the matter would soon be brought to a happy conclusion. She felt perfectly satisfied that Lieutenant Winkler was deeply interested in Hildegarde. When George had announced his leave of absence to her husband he had requested most earnestly to be remembered to his wife and Hildegarde. It was quite irregular, from a military point of view, and it was just because of that that Frau von Warnow regarded it as a good sign.

So Hildegarde went home. She went by a morning train and her parents met her at the station. Fritz was expected in less than an hour, and so they stayed at the station. They went into the restaurant to have something to eat, for Hildegarde was tired and hungry from the long and wearisome journey on the branch line.

The waiter hastened towards them, and the proprietor himself came forward to see to their orders. The major as an officer, and more especially as a baron, was one of the great people of the town; he was indeed the only actual baron there, although there were a few more or less old "Vons," and thus he played an important rôle in the little town, although his financial position was well known.

The major was the type of the retired military man, of medium size, well-built, a somewhat red face and enormous moustaches. His wife was still an extremely nice-looking woman, and one could see that in her youth she must have been really beautiful.

They chattered about matters of indifference till the meal was served, but Hildegarde noticed only too clearly how impatient her parents were to hear something about her prospective engagement; she tried to avoid a conversation on the subject, but was unsuccessful. Scarcely had the waiter brought in the meal, and been given the order not to come back till they rang for him, when they both drew their chairs near to Hildegarde. "Now, dear child, tell us all about it. Relieve us of a great anxiety. How do matters stand with you?"

Hildegarde parried the question; what could she really say? It was certainly very likely that George, when he had got to know her better, would one day ask for her hand in marriage, and that was the only thing she could say. But she read in her parents' faces such fear, and yet such hope, that she had not the heart to deprive them of their joy. Suddenly she thought of a way out of the difficulty. She briefly referred to George, and then spoke at length concerning another very rich man who had lately paid her an immense amount of attention.

"But, dear child, your aunt has never told me a word about this, and she always keeps me informed as to the admirer of the hour."

"Oh, that is what she does," thought Hildegarde. Then she said: "Mamma, I don't want you to write to aunt about this; oddly enough she hasn't noticed this gentleman's attentions to me, and I did not tell her anything about it. You know what aunt is; she means to do the very best for me, and in her efforts to help me, perhaps she goes too far and spoils things."

"And what is his name? What is he?" inquired her mother.

Hildegarde blushed scarlet. "Please do not ask me; I don't want to talk about it while the thing is still so uncertain."

"Quite right, my child," commended the major, "one ought not to talk about things until they are settled"; and turning to his wife he continued, "Do not press Hildegarde any more. If she does not want to talk about it you may be sure she has good reasons." Then he shook hands with his daughter. "Thank you, dear Hilda, that in honour of this day you give me this pleasure; two celebrations instead of one. Ah, it will probably soon be all settled"; and then he added, with a deep sigh, "But it's high time, I can tell you, Hilda, I could not hold out much longer."

Her mother also sighed and said gently:

"Hilda, you have no idea what terrible times we have been through while you were in Berlin. Just think of it, the municipal authorities were about to issue a distress warrant for the taxes, and your father had to strain every nerve to get an adjournment."

"Yes, indeed, that was a stiff bit of work, I can tell you, and if I had not been able to make use of my well-known name, God knows the fellow would have seized my last bit of furniture; those people have no mercy."

"None to the common people, at any rate," Hildegarde interposed.

"And they are quite right," affirmed the major; "the State cannot live without taxes, and if it were to take under its protection every working man and tradesman who is behindhand with his taxes, where would that lead to? We should soon run dry and have no money for soldiers, pensions and other important things. The State must be without mercy, and if it makes an exception in our case it does so because it knows perfectly well that it can do so; an aristocrat always does his duty towards the State and his fellow-creatures."

Hildegarde did not venture to contradict, she could not indeed do so without convicting her father of lying.

The major had finished his beer. "What a miserable drink this is for lunch, it makes one feel heavy and spoils one's appetite. What do you say to our celebrating this meeting with half a bottle of champagne?" His wife had no wish to do so. She feared the expense; but, on the other hand, she knew it was useless to oppose him, and, perhaps, indeed it would help to raise their credit a little if the proprietor of the restaurant said that they had drunk champagne and paid for it in cash. So she agreed. "Yes, certainly, but please let it be French champagne."

"Of course," said the major; "do you suppose I would celebrate the joyful news that Hilda brings us with miserable frothy German champagne?" and he called to the waiter.

It was on Hildegarde's lips to say: "Spare your money; you have no occasion to rejoice in what I have just told you, it was a pure fabrication." But she remained silent. Why should she worry her parents? Perhaps somehow or other a miracle would happen and it would all come right in the end.

"No, bring a whole bottle of Pommery," corrected the major; "my son is soon coming, he will also be thirsty, and it's not worth while beginning with half a bottle."

The wine came, the glasses clinked, and Hildegarde was asked to tell her news again. "Not here," she begged; "there is no more uncomfortable place to stay in than a waiting-room, and especially in a little provincial town."

"All fancy, my dear child, all fancy," her father informed her. "When I was a young lieutenant I was once stationed at a miserable hole which Satan, if he likes, may utterly destroy; at last a station was built, and day after day we strolled up there and felt as jolly and as comfortable in the miserable little waiting-room as we had never felt before. If we had not had that station, and had not been able to go to the station daily, I really do believe we could not have endured the life for long; we should have gone out of our minds. When we had done our daily military duty the day's work was over for us, then there was only one thing to be settled: when and how were we to go to bed? Should we go early and sober, or late and drunk? Now we had a higher object in life; we must go and see the arrival and departure of the trains, and we did this quite as conscientiously as we did our other duties. You can't imagine the joy when one of us by chance discovered an acquaintance in the train; whether he liked it or not he was hauled out of the carriage, and if we could not do it otherwise we used force. And once we had captured a guest, with much craft and cunning, we didn't let him go easily, I can assure you. He was, to a certain extent, placed under military supervision so that he could not escape. Our visitor had perfect freedom; he could do whatever he liked, only he must not go to the station. When at last he really had to go away, and when he had showed us most unmistakably that he really could not stay away longer, we only let him off by paying huge toll. Ha! ha! We were nothing but highwaymen; but, good gracious, what on earth could one do in such a dull hole of a place?"

The major liked telling stories about his life in the little garrison town, in which he appeared to have much enjoyed himself in spite of his grumbling and swearing. When he spoke of the days when he was a young lieutenant he nearly always began his description with, "We were gay dogs in these days," and then he winked knowingly and smacked his lips in remembrance of the jolly days when wine, women and dice played the chief part. Probably the memory of his life in the little garrison town was so delightful because, to a certain extent, it was merely an episode. Immediately after his marriage he had been transferred to Berlin and had taken a good position there because he was a thoroughly good-natured man and an excellent officer; his wife was regarded as the belle of Society. A great career had been prophesied for him, but one day all his prospects were ruined in consequence of an unjust criticism at inspection parade. The contemptuous tone in which the General, before all the officers, criticised the way he did his work made his blood boil, and he so far lost his self-control as to say to the General that, after all, he was only a human being like himself, and that he could not admit the justice of his remarks. This was more than insubordination, and the major might consider himself lucky that he escaped with dismissal instead of being punished. He left the army, but a little later the General was also dismissed; his methods of criticism had also not been approved of in higher quarters.

When the major began to tell of the days when he was a lieutenant he went on from one story to another, and though his womenfolk had heard them all over and over again, they listened attentively to him from affection; for he had nothing on earth to do but tell these stories of the gay or wearisome times he had had as an officer. If, as now, he had a little champagne by his side, everything in the past had a golden halo around it; when he sat at home with his money bothers he had not a good word for the whole army.

At last the train which was to bring Fritz was signalled.

The major looked into the bottle, it was empty; he turned to the waiter to order another one, when his womenfolk interposed. "Let us go home when Fritz comes, it is much nicer there; besides, we have to dress for dinner."

Grumbling, the major agreed. "Very well, then, I must pay." He looked into his purse. "Good gracious, I forgot to put in a five-pound note. I have not enough money with me."

"Oh, that does not matter, sir," averred the waiter; "the gentleman can pay when he comes next time."

Hildegarde grew scarlet, she felt ready to sink to the ground for shame; she knew the trick so well, she had been witness innumerable times when her father had forgotten the five-pound note which, as a rule, he never possessed. How had she forgotten about this for the moment? Never, never should her father remain in debt for a meal of which she had partaken. So she opened her purse. "I have some change, father. How much do you want?" And without waiting for an answer she pushed two gold coins towards the waiter.

"Ah, that's right, Hilda, only don't forget to remind me to give you back the money directly we get home."

The waiter was about to give her some change, but Hildegarde did not take it. "That's all right, keep the change for yourself."

They got up and went on to the platform. "Hilda, how could you be so foolish as to pay," scolded the major; "to-morrow it will be all over the town that you have come back with money, and in honour of my birthday the people will dun me for their accounts. One must either pay all or nothing. I cannot do the first, so I have all carefully noted down, and later I shall settle the whole bodily at one go."

Hildegarde was vexed at this way of looking at things. "What do you think about this, mother?"

The baroness shrugged her shoulders. "I should prefer to pay ready money for everything, but as we cannot do that we must adopt another method. But the people know very well that they will get their money." And drawing Hildegarde aside she asked in a whisper, "Tell me, pray – I am consumed with anxiety and I wonder your father has not yet asked you – what did the Warnows send as a birthday present?"

"Uncle sent by me a cheque for six thousand marks (£300) on the local branch of the Imperial Bank."

"Not more than that?"

"Oh, mamma!"

Hildegarde could not speak. She herself was more than humiliated by her uncle's kindness. She had reckoned up what he had spent in the course of years for her parents, Fritz and herself. It is true he was very rich, and in spite of his splendid way of living and all that he gave away he did not live up to his income; but his kindness had so greatly shamed and affected her that she had long ago declined to accept any money from him.

Her mother, absorbed in thought, walked to and fro with Hildegarde, whilst her father inquired of the station-master why the gate was not yet open.

"Now," she said, "I fear your father will be somewhat disappointed. I know that he secretly reckoned upon ten thousand (£500). Six thousand (£300) is, of course, a lot of money. Nobody must know anything about it, or people will try and get it out of us at once."

The arrival of the train brought the conversation to an end, and Fritz hastened towards his parents and sister and greeted them heartily. He was in faultless civilian costume, which betrayed the officer in every detail.

"How do you do, mamma? How do, papa? How do, Hilda? How nice that we're all here together again! We'll celebrate the next few days properly." He looked round for his servant. "Where's the idiot? 'Pon my word, these fellows get more idiotic every day. Ah, there he comes."

The servant, in plain blue livery, appeared, and Fritz handed him his luggage ticket.

"If you, thick-skinned brute, imagine that I take you with me for your private pleasure, then you have made a mistake. You are here for me, do you understand? And if you dawdle about here and don't do your damned duty, then I'll have you shut up in barracks for a few days and dismissed. Do you understand? Now, look sharp and put the luggage in the carriage."

"At your service, sir." The servant hurried out to fulfil his orders.

Hildegarde had noticed how the soldier had blushed when his lieutenant had rated him in this contemptuous manner before the ladies and the other travellers. She said to her brother, "Don't be so disagreeable to your servant. Probably he has been looking forward to the holiday. Don't spoil his pleasure for him."

"It doesn't matter to me whether the fellow enjoys himself or not. The important thing is for me to be properly looked after, and, moreover, I must beg you, courteously but emphatically, not to give me instructions as to how I am to treat my people. Do not interfere in things that don't concern you. Tell me instead how things are with you. Are we soon to congratulate you, eh?"

They had, meanwhile, taken their places in the carriage. The luggage had been put in, the servant mounted the box, and in a moment the carriage drove off at a trot to the villa where the major lived.

Hildegarde did not answer, and Fritz had to repeat his question; but he read in his mother's glance, which told him not to press his sister further, that all was going on well, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

After a short drive they reached their home, and a little later they joined one another at dinner. The major beamed with pleasure at having his two children with him again, and in honour of the day, and as a preparation for the morrow, they had the best wines and the richest food. After dinner they sat for a long time over the coffee and cigars. The brother and sister had to tell everything that had happened to them, the former in his little provincial garrison, the latter in Berlin.

Although the major loved his beautiful daughter dearly, Fritz was certainly his favourite; everything that he did was right, everything that he said was marvellous.

Hildegarde, on the contrary, found her brother, whom she had not seen for some time, more intolerable than ever. He was amazingly proud and conceited – the typical young officer who has nothing, is nothing, and yet solely on the strength of his uniform imagines himself to be a superior being. His appearance was as affected as his behaviour; the waxed moustache standing out proudly, the eyeglass which he never for a moment removed from his eye, and his up-to-date civilian's dress. He was really rather nice-looking, his figure was slim and elegant, and he had a fresh, open countenance, though somewhat unintelligent and expressionless, and he wore an affected air of boredom.

Of course he talked of nothing but his horses, his duties, his comrades, and this bored Hildegarde so that she got up on the pretext of going to rest a little. Her mother also rose after she had arranged with her daughter to pay some visits in the afternoon.

As soon as father and son were alone together it was: "What do you say if we were to drink another bottle of wine?"

"I'm quite agreeable."

The wine was brought, and for a short time they continued their former conversation, then they spoke of Hildegarde.

"Really, how handsome the girl still is!" said Fritz. "And do you think that this time it will come off?"

To-day the major saw everything in roseate hues. "Yes, most certainly. Hildegarde has two on the cards; one in any case will come up to the scratch."

Fritz groaned aloud. "God grant it!"

"Yes, Heaven help us!" assented his father, then he went on: "Well, now, as we clearly see deliverance before us, you need no longer keep any secrets from me, especially as you know quite well that I cannot pay your debts. I told you that directly you became an officer. I said to you then: 'Have as many debts as you like, but look to yourself for paying them.' Now confess, how much do you owe?"

Fritz was for a moment embarrassed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Why not? As I am not going to pay them you may be quite sure I shall not reproach you."

Fritz bit another cigar. "Taking it all in all, from first to last, it must be about forty thousand marks."

"And how long have you been a lieutenant?"

"Seven years."

"Then that would be at the rate of about six thousand a year; it can't be called a small amount."

Fritz shrugged his shoulders. "What is one to do? The life of an officer is expensive, and then one is not born into the world simply to perform one's military duties. One cannot manage on the allowance you give me."

"Another perhaps might – you cannot."

"I don't think anyone else, at least no one in my regiment, could; they are all in debt, some more, some less. I should say that 75 per cent. of all the lieutenants from time to time do confess to their parents, then a couple of thousands or so are paid – naturally each time they say it is the very last – and the son is once more on his legs again. Now, if one multiplies by seven the amount that the others pay yearly in debts, it amounts to a pretty big sum of money. With me the matter is somewhat more complicated, because I have never paid a farthing, and when one is in such a plight as I am one naturally has to pay very high interest. The last time, in spite of great skill and cunning, I received a thousand marks when I gave an I O U for three thousand."

"Still, that's something," laughed his father.

Involuntarily Fritz joined in the laugh, then he became serious again and asked, "How are things with you, father?"

The major smoked on furiously for a moment. "Don't ask me, my son, things are very bad indeed with me."

The old gentleman looked so full of despair that Fritz felt sincere sympathy, "Poor father, all will soon be better again."

"Perhaps so; but will you believe it, that in spite of the fact that I am not a man of prejudice, I cannot bear the idea of accepting money from my son-in-law, not only to pay my debts, but in order to exist?"

Fritz looked at him with astonishment. "I cannot understand it."

"That is because you are a young lieutenant, unmarried, and have no one in the world to look after but yourself. But consider me, I am an old man of sixty. For more than ten years I have been pensioned; at eight I entered the army as a cadet. I have therefore worn the soldier's uniform for over forty years, and during the whole time I have exercised and drilled recruits, done my duty on parade, taken part in three campaigns. And what is the result of it all? To be dismissed with a pension on which one cannot live if he has a wife and child. Pensioned off with four thousand marks. I ask you, what are four thousand marks to-day? Now, things are said to be better, the pensions are to be increased – well, let us say there is an addition of one thousand five hundred marks – it won't in any case be more, probably not so much. What then? Even six thousand marks are not sufficient to defray the household expenses of a family, are they? In a little town, perhaps, if one lives extremely modestly. But has one grown old, has one worn out one's bones for years in peace and in war, in order that in one's old age one must suffer one deprivation after another merely to prolong life? There is an old saying that the sweets of youth are not a good preparation for the black bread of old age. And we pensioned officers in our youth tasted mostly nothing but sweets. Certainly there were notable exceptions who managed on their allowance, who were economical and sober, but most lived in a happy-go-lucky fashion and enjoyed all the pleasures that were offered them. And what a position one enjoyed then, how one was fêted! From one family to another, one dinner to another. They always gave us the best of everything, overwhelmed us with attentions, literally begged and entreated for our favour. And how well and luxuriously we lived at the Casino. We ordered what we wanted, and if we had no money we ran into debt. Then after this youth of amusement and gaiety comes sorrowful old age, in which one has nothing whatever to do, though that is not the worst part of it. Two things make old age unbearable; money anxieties and the position to which we are relegated. Who are we nowadays? Mere nobodies! The stupidest young lieutenant plays a far more important part than we. We are on the shelf, no attention is paid to us; we are either regarded as ridiculous figures or, at any rate, as objects of pity. And so after we have done our duty for years we can retire to some miserable little hole where we are bored to death or starve. For you can't imagine, my boy, the way in which the pensioned officers and their families live here, and, of course, it is the same in every pensionopolis. There is a groaning and a gnashing of teeth of which none but the initiated have any idea. How few of them ever have any opportunity of earning a few pence? People are apt to avoid the pensioned officer, not entirely without justification, and when he does try to get a post, how much can he earn as an agent or traveller for wine? It is a miserable life, a dog's life. Pour me out some more wine, my boy, pass me the glorious wine; we must gild the grey day, glorify it with wine."

Father and son clinked glasses and emptied them at a draught. Then Fritz said:

"You may be quite right in what you say, father, but how can things be altered? It has always been like this, and I suppose it always will be."

"Yes, as long as the officer plays the important part in Society that he does to-day."

Fritz looked up astonished.

"Do you then, as an officer, wish that it should be otherwise?"

"In many ways, certainly. Do not misunderstand me. I am far from wishing that the position of the officer should be lowered. In my opinion he must and ought to remain in the view of the public what he is to-day – a man belonging to the highest class of Society. That is necessary if we desire to maintain our army in the highest efficiency, as it still is – although for a long time things have not been as they ought to be – as it must be, and as it could be; but these eternal inspections, the fear of dismissal and the struggle for mere existence no longer permit of the careful military training of our troops. However, that is another story." Turning to his son: "Give me another glass of wine, these long speeches make me thirsty, but I must relieve myself once for all of what I have on my mind."

Then, drinking off the contents of his glass at a draught, he continued:

"Well now, my boy, aristocratic men should really form the highest caste in the land, but to do this they must be far more exclusive than they are to-day. People are always talking about the caste feeling of the officers, and it is solemnly trotted out when it is a question of excluding unwelcome elements from the officers' corps, or when an officer strikes a civilian with his sword, or whenever an officer fights a duel with a comrade or anyone else. When the cry is raised against them by the other classes the officers always defend themselves with, 'Remember we belong to the highest caste; we have our own sense of honour, which you cannot understand; our thoughts are not your thoughts, nor yours ours, God be thanked!'

"But how are things really with this highest caste? If they had their own special instincts and characteristics, their own ideas of honour, then they would not only appear 'first class,' they really would be it. They ought to remember the Emperor's words: 'The best society for the officer is that of the officer.' But it is just this idea that you all object to, and now I am coming to what I wanted to say. Consider for a moment the society of the modern officer – I am not here referring to low-class society – he has far too much of it; people run after the lieutenants, everybody who has a house invites you officers, and what do you do? You accept every invitation when there is nothing actually against the host which makes social intercourse in his house an absolute impossibility, and of course that is rare. Wherever there is the attraction of a dinner, a supper, an entertainment of any kind, where the food is good and the drinks plentiful, there the officers are to be found, and it is solely for the sake of the excellent fare that they visit these people with whom they would not dream of sitting down to dinner if they were not rich. To-day, alas! money in the eyes of the officers ennobles. That proud sense of honour which the highest class ought to have should not judge a man according as he is rich or poor, but solely as he is an honourable man. I have often enough noticed how even the old officers bow down to money, how they try to win the favour of the rich, how they give themselves endless trouble to get introduced into a family where a good dinner and a rich daughter is the attraction. Naturally, if an officer behaves in this way he lowers himself in the eyes of other people and arouses the contempt and derision of all thoughtful men – "

"But, father – " interrupted the son.

"Let me finish first what I have to say. If you have any right feeling you must agree with me in what I have already said. But the chief reason why the social condition of the officers must be altered is, that owing to the present state of affairs the officer no longer takes a pride and a joy in his military duties, and is forced into a quite false mode of living. If he goes night after night to balls can he next day be fresh for his duties? and if he daily swallows oysters and champagne at other people's houses, naturally he does not live at the Casino and in his own home as economically and as simply as he ought if he is to manage on his money and contract no debts. He ought in these ways to act as a shining example to other people, and be in reality, and show that he is really, a first-class man. I do not entirely blame the lieutenants, but Society, and, above all, the military authorities. These, in my view, ought to forbid their officers to go into Society so tremendously. Their warnings not to live beyond their means are not enough, and likewise, it is not much use to read out from time to time the stringent Cabinet Order: 'In order to decrease the love of luxury and pleasure it becomes the officers to give a good example by their economical and upright mode of life,' or some such words. The officers might assert that they are economical in the Casino, but then it is the rarest thing for an officer to be ruined by his actual extravagance in barracks. It is Society that is answerable for the lieutenants, Society which imbues him with the idea, the crazy idea I might say, that he is a creature specially favoured by the Almighty, who instil into him the poison of 'You are quite different from every one else.' Society drives him into making debts and living gaily upon them, just as the rich do. When you are an old pensioned officer as I am, without money or position, you will see and understand how Society sins against you by spoiling you in this way. Yes, and when one is a young lieutenant one is foolish enough to believe that all these invitations are meant as an honour to oneself personally, instead of, as it really is, to the officer's uniform."