The old man sat silent for a long time. "Mother will be frightfully upset," he said at last.
The brother and sister exchanged swift glances; they knew that the battle was won, but they took care not to give vent to their feeling of satisfaction.
"Won't you mind leaving the army?"
"How could I, after all the humiliation I have endured? I rejoice a thousandfold in taking off my officer's uniform, which apparently does not go with my views and ideas, although I did my duties very well compared with others."
"Is not every officer an enthusiastic soldier, then?" asked Elsa.
George burst out laughing. "You innocent angel! I can assure you at least half of the lieutenants would give in their resignations at once if they were in a financial position to do so. The best proof of my assertion is that every lieutenant tries to find a rich wife; when he has found one he either leaves the army immediately, or stays there as long as he gets any enjoyment from it. If it becomes too dull or worrying for him he throws up his commission and says to his superiors, 'See how you can manage to get along without me. Other people can be driven mad by your worrying ways, thank Heaven I am no longer obliged to put up with all these things.' Of course there are exceptions; there are the ambitious and energetic men who want to get big military appointments, who dream of red stripes on their trousers and the title of Excellency; it may be hard for such men to have to leave the army. And then there are certainly a few who are really soldiers, heart and soul, but their number is small – where are they to be found? Among the subordinate officers I have scarcely known a single lieutenant who did not curse and swear when he was set to perform a duty, and who would not have preferred to depart at once if only he knew how he was to earn his living. This sounds hard, but I assure you it is quite true. Even when a lieutenant says, 'I like being an officer,' it is generally because of the position it gives him in Society and not because he likes exercising and drilling the men. And it is just the same with the captain as with the lieutenant; his superiors are always running after him, they lead him a hell of a life, and are always reprimanding him for some fault or other committed by his men. Who could enjoy military duties under these circumstances? A man feels stifled. Yet the wretched captain must bear it all because he has a wife and children and no money, because he is forced to remain in the army as long as possible to get the higher pension and so be able to live. He is worried and bothered from morning to eve, and even then, in the majority of cases, he does not succeed in getting what he wants, and has later on to suffer poverty and misery; and if he abandons his uniform with regret it is not because he is sorry to leave the army, but because of his wasted life. He is in full possession of all his mental and physical faculties, and yet he is condemned to inactivity and ceaseless money worries. Among the superior officers there is certainly to be found an enthusiasm for the army. There is none among the subordinates, at least not in the infantry."
The father was peevish and ill-tempered; he controlled himself as well as he could, but from time to time his indignation burst forth, and his children found it difficult to appease him.
"And are you really going to give in your resignation to-morrow? Will you not consider it for another month? Why do you not get leave of absence for a year, or less, if you like?"
George shook his head. "The sooner I go the better, father. I don't get on among the officers, who often have the most extraordinary views on things." And, as if in confirmation of these words, the servant brought in a letter at that moment.
"Is there any answer?"
"No."
The servant went away and George opened the letter.
"Whatever is the matter?" asked Elsa, who had been watching her brother while he was reading.
George jumped up. "I have never heard such a piece of insolence in my whole life. Just listen to this; but first of all I must recall to you one of my fellow-officers who was sitting in the same restaurant with us yesterday."
"Oh, yes, that odd young man who was not quite sure at first whether he should bow to us, and then afterwards attempted to flirt with me so outrageously," said Elsa. "Well, what about him?"
"Not much," answered George apparently calmly. "He merely wishes to be allowed to ask for your hand."
Father and daughter looked at one another, speechless with astonishment, then Elsa broke into a hearty laugh, in which the others joined too.
"Why, he doesn't even know me," she said.
"Oh, that isn't in the least necessary; he knows your fortune, he knows that you are a very good parti, and naturally that's quite enough for him. A man can get on all right without love, but not without money. Well, now, listen to what this fine fellow writes. But I must tell you beforehand that from the first few of my comrades were so unfriendly to me as he was."
Then he read out the letter:
"My very dear Winkler, – I am sitting alone and solitary in the restaurant, and for a whole hour I have been impatiently watching the door in the hope of seeing you and your people come in, for I heard by chance that your father had ordered dinner here for this evening.
"Without telling you, you will, I expect, have already guessed that I only went into the restaurant to-day in the happy expectation of being introduced to your sister and your much-respected father, for I must frankly confess to you that no young girl has ever made such a deep and indelible impression upon me as your sister did. Although up to now I have only had the opportunity of observing her beauty and her grace, yet I am quite sure that a beautiful soul must dwell in such a beautiful body, and I have only one wish in the world – to become acquainted with your sister. As we have always had such pleasant and friendly relations with one another I venture to ask if I may pay my respects to your highly-esteemed father and beautiful sister, and I beg you most courteously to say a few kindly words on my behalf. Naturally all information concerning myself and my financial position is at your father's disposal whenever he likes. In conclusion, I beg you not to be vexed at the somewhat odd nature of these few lines, but I know that your father is only staying here for a few days, and I do not want your sister to leave Berlin without my having the opportunity of becoming acquainted with her.
"Pray accept my kindest regards for your honoured, but at present, alas! unknown, relatives, and, – Believe me, with best greetings, yours very sincerely,
"Von Masemann."
"Well, what do you say to that?" inquired George.
"Is it possible?" cried out the old manufacturer. "I must say I have never heard of such a thing in all my life."
"And what do you think about it, Elsa?"
"I really do not know whether to laugh or be angry about it. I can't think how he isn't ashamed to write such a letter."
George laughed mockingly. "Ashamed? Why, Elsa, you can know very little about a lieutenant if you think he would be ashamed of anything. Your beauty has turned his head, you have a big fortune, so that's all right; he marches to victory like Blucher to Waterloo. If he's successful, all right, if he's not, then he seeks his luck somewhere else; he means to catch a goldfish somewhere or other. The more impudent he is the more easily he attains to the object of his desires."
"Not as far as we are concerned," burst out the commercial adviser to the Emperor. "Please tell your aristocratic friend to-morrow from me – "
George interrupted him. "No, father, I have already settled about the answer. He won't much care about it, I can assure you. I am going to ask him how it is, that he has been unable to have any social intercourse with me and yet desires to marry my sister." After a pause he continued, "It is really a pity, Elsa, you are not going to stay here a few days, for then you would have had all the officers at your feet; all, from the oldest staff-officer down to the youngest lieutenant, would try to curry favour with me so that I might say a good word to you on their behalf. Your thousands would induce even the most aristocratic lieutenant who usually boasts of his numberless ancestors, to recognise the bourgeoisie and to condescend to make you his highly-honoured wife."
"A fine set of people these," said the father, angrily.
"I thank them for the honour they pay me in wishing to marry me for my money, but I don't think I want to marry at all."
George regarded his sister with amusement. "Ha, ha, one day you'll find the flame of love, and quite right too. By the way, how old are you – nineteen or twenty?"
"I am twenty-one now."
"And has no one seriously paid court to you?"
She burst out laughing. "Oh, often, like your comrade here to-day, but I did not care about any of them, for, oddly enough, it was always officers who paid me attention, always lieutenants, and, unfortunately, the only lieutenant whom I love I cannot get."
George looked at her wonderingly. "Why not?"
"Because he happens to be my brother."
Laughingly George drew his sister to him. "Come here, dear, and give me a kiss." Then he went on. "But seriously, Elsa, you have grown much more beautiful lately." He was delighted with his sister's looks: she had a slim figure, a proud bearing, beautiful eyes, and her whole appearance was charming.
"Do you know that you are very like Hildegarde in many ways?" he said, suddenly.
It was the first time that he had actually said her name to his people, and now that he had done it he felt shy and was quite embarrassed at his sister's glance.
Their father had meanwhile taken up the evening paper, now he laid it aside. "Go on, George, you yourself began it, you know. You have so often written to us about your Hildegarde. Who and what is she, and how do you stand with regard to her?"
George tried to avoid answering, but Elsa urged him to speak. "Do tell me something about her. In your letters you could not write enough about her – at any rate, in the beginning! lately I have heard much less about her. Is she vexed with you about anything?"
"No, I don't think so," answered George, after a moment's thought; "at any rate I do not know of any reason for it. I told you that Hildegarde was a relative of my captain, who is now undergoing imprisonment in a fortress. Naturally during this time Frau von Warnow does not go out, and so, lately, I have only seen Hildegarde once or twice quite casually in the street."
"Haven't you spoken to her at all?"
"Twice I meant to do so, but I should have had to inquire how the Warnows were, and, of course, that would be very disagreeable for me."
"But how do you stand with regard to her," his father asked for the second time. "You know your mother has prophesied for a long time that you were going to get engaged to her. Is she right?"
"As you ask me straight out, I will tell you that at first I had the same idea, and I think that if this horrible business had not come between us, and if we had seen one another more often, things would have been all right, but now – "
Elsa saw such a sorrowful and despairing look in her brother's face that she said to him, "But won't you find it very hard to go away without seeing her again?"
"I shall see her once again," answered George, with determination. "I shall pay a farewell visit. I shall ask Hildegarde to name an hour when I am sure to see her." And then, acting on a sudden impulse, he said: "By the way, Elsa, I told Hildegarde all sorts of things about you. I told her you wanted to become acquainted with her, and she was delighted. Will you do me a favour and call upon her, or, better still, ask her to call upon you at the hotel? I will be there, too, and then when we meet again after several weeks we shall know what we feel towards one another, and if Hildegarde loves me, then – "
"Not so fast, my boy, not so fast," put in the old man. "I am still in existence. I should like to see my future daughter-in-law before I am called up to consent and say 'Amen.'"
George had a sudden vision of Hildegarde; the memory of the delightful hours they had spent together awakened in him a great longing to see her again.
"Oh, you will like Hildegarde, father, she is beautiful and good, and in spite of her aristocratic birth she does not share the often extraordinary views of her class. I have told her a great deal about you, father; about the factory, your consideration for your workpeople, your ceaseless activity, and she was interested in and understood everything." He spoke of her with an ardour and an enthusiasm which showed how much he cared for her.
"And what sort of a family has she?" inquired old Winkler. "You know I don't care whether she has money or not – you need not trouble about that – what I mean is, do you know anything about her relations? Has she any brothers and sisters? What are her parents?"
George gave what information he could.
"Oh, so there's a scamp of a lieutenant," grumbled the father; "instead of parents who have no money making their son learn some business or other, the young fellows have to become officers, so that they may get drunk on champagne at the regimental banquet."
"But Hildegarde cannot help that," George said, as if he had to protect her: "and what does her brother matter to me?"
"What does he matter? Well" – the old man got up – "a man does not only marry a wife, but the whole family, take that from me, my boy, and so, before taking any steps, we must look into things a bit. But I will frankly confess one thing to you: I have privately long desired you to marry. It's all the same to me whom, as long as you love her. Well, now we can go and see your Hildegarde."
CHAPTER XI
Farewell to the Army!
"My son just engaged to your daughter. For Hildegarde's sake will try to assist you and your son. Expect you both to-morrow for consultation on subject."
This telegram sent off by the old manufacturer caused indescribable excitement in the major's home; weeping with joy and agitation the husband and wife flung themselves into each other's arms and blessed the day on which Heaven had given them Hildegarde.
"A fine girl, a good girl," said the major a dozen times over, and if there was anything that troubled his intense joy it was that Hilda was not with them. He would so much have liked to take her in his arms, and in his somewhat rough fashion to have patted her on the shoulder and said: "You have done well, my girl."
He laughed hoarsely, and lit the dearest cigar he had in the house. One ought to make merry on festivals whenever they occur, and to-day was truly a festival: Hildegarde engaged to the son of one of the richest wholesale manufacturers, that was indeed more than mere good luck, and almost unconsciously the major folded his hands and thanked the good God for having sent him so rich a son-in-law. He read and re-read the telegram; he could not at once take in the whole extent of the joyful news, and the oftener he read the telegram and the more calmly he gradually accepted its contents, the more he took exception each time to the words: "For Hildegarde's sake will try to assist you and your son. Expect you both to-morrow." What did that mean – will try; it was not a question of will, but must. Did this parvenu imagine, perhaps, that the major would give his beautiful child, his only daughter, to his son without his having to pay heavily for it? Oh, no, indeed! No gains without pains; if the honorary commercial adviser did not pay his debts and his son's, then there would be no engagement, for he, as father, would never give his consent. That would indeed be a fine thing if he gave his child to the first best suitor without any compensation. "No, no, that's not what was intended, that won't do at all."
The major talked himself into a rage over the matter to his wife, who vainly tried to calm him. "You don't know these shop-keeping creatures, they grow rich by haggling; their chief characteristic is avarice, and you see all that here. Do you suppose a decent man would ask what were the debts of the father and mother of his future daughter-in-law? He would simply pay them, and on the spot. And what does this fellow say: 'Expect you both to-morrow to discuss affairs.' He ought to come to us, and ask for our daughter's hand on his son's behalf in the proper way, instead of which we are simply commanded to come to him. I, an old major, must receive instructions from a parvenu. He has not a trace of respect for my noble birth, my position, my name; he has the money-bags, so we must pipe to his tune. Well, I shall soon make him see how matters stand, I shall soon show him what an honour it is for him and his family if we let his son, who, as far as I know, is only a discharged lieutenant, marry our Hilda. I will soon open his eyes."
He walked up and down the room grumbling and cursing, but gradually joy in Hildegarde's engagement again got the upper hand, and earlier than usual he went off to his special table at the restaurant in order to relate the news and to receive congratulations on the happy event.
Next morning he set out on his journey; his wife had wanted to accompany him, but he would not allow this. "Fritz and I must first have a talk with the old man and arrange affairs. I will telegraph you how things are, and then you might come. I repeat, if the old fellow does not pay up at once, there will be no engagement."
Fritz, who met his father on the way, quite agreed with him. He had also received a telegram in which was expressed only a desire to help, and he was no less angry than his father. "You are quite right in what you say, papa, there is only one thing to be done, we must simply threaten to take Hildegarde immediately home with us if he does not consent to everything we want. We must act very energetically, and show fight, but above all we must make the old fellow feel what an enormous social barrier divides us; then you see he will look small."
But the old manufacturer was very far removed from looking small.
In the conversation that had taken place between Hildegarde and Elsa, the former had considered it her duty to tell her new friend frankly about her family affairs, and to confess quite plainly how she had been sent year after year to Berlin to get a rich husband. With tears she confessed she loved George, but declared she must renounce him, for she could not endure that George should believe, even for a moment, that she loved him for his money. At first when Elsa heard this she assumed a somewhat distant air, then she felt the most sincere sympathy for Hildegarde, whose every word showed clearly and distinctly how good and true she was. Elsa tried to console her to the best of her ability, and assured her that George would not doubt her, but that his love would be all the greater when he heard what a sad life she had had. Elsa undertook to inform her father what Hildegarde had told her, and at the first moment he was quite overcome, and kept on saying to his son – "George, leave the thing alone, give up all thoughts of Hildegarde, don't be drawn into that wretched family affair." But he made no further opposition after he had seen Hildegarde and had had an hour's conversation with her tête-à-tête. He took his son aside and said, "George, the girl's an angel, we must make her happy and compensate her for all she has gone through by a future without a care or worry."
So they had all taken counsel together as to how Hildegarde's relatives were to be helped. Hildegarde had told them the extent of the debts so far as she remembered it from her last visit home, and at last it was arranged that old Winkler should pay one half of the debts, and George, out of his own income, the other. Besides this, Winkler intended to put aside a certain sum every year, from which Hildegarde could make her parents an allowance, and so they would be removed from all pecuniary anxiety.
It was more difficult to arrange what was to be done about Fritz. George wanted to pledge himself to give his brother-in-law a monthly allowance, but Hildegarde shook her head at this. "There is really no object in doing that, George. If, in your kindness, you were to give him thousands and thousands, it would be so much money thrown away. The more Fritz has the more he needs. He would never manage on whatever he had; he would always borrow from us, he would not stop gambling, and if we wouldn't help him he would borrow on I O U's, and would soon be as deeply in debt as he is to-day. It is sad for his own sister to have to say this, but I can only see one way of helping Fritz – he must leave the army and go abroad. He will never be any better until he works and earns his own living and so gets to understand the value of money."
"Hildegarde is right," agreed the old manufacturer. "Hildegarde is certainly the most sensible girl I have ever known, and if she, who knows her brother so well, says that there is no other means of helping him except a change of climate, then he shall have it. Let him go to America, I have business connections there, and can easily get him a post. He shall not starve, I will see to that all right, but he shall only get as much money as will keep him from want. He will therefore be forced to work for his living."
Thus all was settled and arranged when the major and his son arrived, and at the sight of the absolute calmness and firm determination which were visible in the manufacturer's whole bearing, they were quite unable to carry out their proposal and take the high hand. They could not explain why, but as they sat with the old man, they were almost ill at ease when he asked them about their debts, and told them in what way he proposed to settle them.
Fritz could hardly believe his ears when he was told he was to leave the army. He opposed it as much as ever he could, but he was so deeply involved that he could not hang on for more than a few weeks. It would, therefore, be best for him after all to resign at once. But if he left the army there was really no object in paying his debts at once; the people could wait for them, he would be quite content to go on owing them money. He made this clear to old Winkler, who might thus save the money and give him a few more thousand marks for his journey.
"For you to gamble them away on board ship. No, there's no sense in that, and quite apart from that, in our plebeian circles it is considered honourable to fulfil one's obligations. Surely you, who belong to a class which is nicknamed nowadays 'the first class,' ought not to think differently in this matter. I should not have expected this of you."
Fritz could not help feeling uncomfortable, and both father and son were delighted when Elsa inquired whether lunch could not be served, and so brought the conversation to an end.
The major was in the seventh heaven: his debts were paid, he received an extra allowance, he had no longer any need to give his son any money, and henceforth he could live free from care. He did not, of course, quite like it that his son Fritz should have to go abroad, but if the old manufacturer insisted upon it, why one must agree to it, and perhaps he might find a rich wife there. In America there were still people who thought aristocratic birth more than out-weighed gold, and, besides, America was not far off, he could be back again in a few days, if need be. He whispered all this to his son, when he was alone with him for a moment, and Fritz made the best of a bad bargain. Father and son thoroughly enjoyed the excellent luncheon of which they all partook, and appeared to take no notice of the somewhat cold, distant behaviour of the Winklers at the beginning of the interview.
Next day the manufacturer with his children and Hildegarde intended to go home.
He would indeed have gone on this day but George, who had given in his resignation, had invited the "Golden Butterflies" to a splendid banquet, and at six o'clock the whole of the corps of officers were assembled in a splendid suite of rooms in the best hotel in Berlin. George in his heart disliked all this ostentation, but on this occasion he had ordered the best and most expensive of everything. The French champagne flowed in streams, the finest wines, the best viands were set before them.
George as the host sat between the colonel and the major, and secretly he was immensely amused to notice how the former was beginning to think about his speech.
"What is he going to say?" thought George. "Does not the man see that this farewell banquet is a pure farce? There is not a single being at the table who is not delighted that I am going, and yet they all come here to stuff themselves at my expense, and to get more or less drunk."
In a few words George bade his guests welcome, and wished them a pleasant evening. That was all he said. He could not bring himself somehow to say that he was delighted to be once more among his dear old comrades again, or something of the kind. He had only said what was absolutely necessary for the occasion, and, therefore, he was all the more curious to see how the colonel would reply to his remarks. The latter struck his glass, and rose, his example being followed by all the other officers.
"Gentlemen," began the colonel, amid profound silence, "we are to-day assembled for the last time to do honour to a beloved comrade, who is leaving not only us, but the army, to go into his father's business as worker and partner. Although it is usually the custom for the departing officer to be entertained by his corps, to-day it is otherwise, and it is we who are the guests and you the host, because we believe by this means to show you, dear Winkler, how delighted we are once more to have you in our midst. To invite you to a dinner would have been the ordinary etiquette of the regiment, but etiquette does not oblige us to accept your invitation. The fact that everyone of us is here is a clear and eloquent sign, dear Winkler, that all who are here have not a word to say against you. I cannot deny that there were at one time differences between you and the other officers, but to-day shows that all those have disappeared. And so, with sincere regret, we witness your departure from our midst, although you have only been here such a short time, and our wishes for your health and prosperity in the future are expressed in the toast. Three cheers for our former comrade, Lieutenant Winkler. Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"
"Coldly as they received me into the regiment, coldly they bid me good-bye," thought George during the colonel's speech. "Not a single kindly word for me, merely a variation on the theme – what fine, good-natured fellows we are for coming here to-day on your account."
The hurrahs rang out, the band struck up a fanfare, and then the song, "Ich hatte einen Kamraden, einen bessern fandst du nicht."
"I am to have that as well," thought George, and a feeling of bitterness rose within him. "Lies and hypocrisy to the very end."
The colonel drew him into the conversation, but, while George was apparently listening to a description of an incident in the war, his thoughts were far away. He looked at his comrades who from joy at getting rid of him had drunk more than was good for them, and many of whom would soon be completely intoxicated. And suddenly a feeling of joy which he could not prevent came over him that in future he would no longer belong to a profession, the majority of whose members had not yet learned to work and to take life seriously; and who had not yet grasped the real nature of its task – that of educating the German youth.