It was in the twilight of a rainy November day. Every roof dripped, and
grey drops slid down the iron railings of the terrace in endless
succession to splash into the pools on the pavement below.
It was poor sport to watch them, but there seemed nothing better to be
done.
Then the door opened--the bell ringing loudly--and a fair, dapper
little man came in, with his coat collar turned up and his hat pulled
low over his eyes. He stamped and shook the raindrops off the brim of
his hat. His glossy, fair hair shone like satin, and he brought into
the atmosphere an aroma of Russia leather and Parma violets. He glanced
at Lilly with narrow, arrogant eyes, feigning disillusionment, said
good-evening brusquely, and then stared beyond her, as if he awaited a
greeting from someone behind the book-shelves.
Lilly asked him what he wanted.
"Ah, I suppose you are the young lady in charge of the library?" he
answered, and seemed to find in her existence a subject for careless
levity.
Lilly assented, and he exclaimed, "Capital! That's capital!" and from
under his blinking light-lashed lids scintillated a thousand little
shafts of merriment.
Lilly next asked what book he wanted.
"Do you know, my much-respected and learned young lady, I am not
exactly at home in German literature and the other sciences, but since
yesterday evening I have been fired with a fabulous, positively
student-like thirst for culture. Now, if you would give me your
valuable assistance----"
He stopped suddenly, stuck an eyeglass in his eye, looked her up and
down, first from the left side, then from the right, as one judges the
points of a high-stepping horse before purchase; then he murmured,
"Damn!" and asked her to light up.
There was no reason why Lilly should not obey, as it was so dark she
couldn't read the numbers on the backs of the books.
As she stretched up to lift the shade from the hanging lamp, disclosing
the splendour of her outline, he said "Damn" a second time. When the
light shone on her and she looked at him with a questioning shyness in
her enigmatic eyes--those "Lilly eyes," whose brilliancy had so long
been under eclipse--he sank, quite overcome, on to the chair set for
customers, folded his hands and asked to be forgiven.
A hot feeling of resentment burned in Lilly: so contemptible was her
position in the eyes of this young aristocrat--the first who had found
his way here during a year and a half--that she was not deemed worthy
of being treated with ordinary courtesy.
"Unless you wish to borrow a book, sir," she said with a lofty air, "I
must ask you to leave this room."
"A book? What?" he repeated, outraged. "One solitary book, one beastly
book? No, thank you. Every five minutes I am allowed to stay here, I
will take out new books, a whole shelf--a whole case of books, if you
like; but on condition that I may return them to-morrow. I will make a
contract with a van proprietor to cart the cases of books backwards and
forwards. But wait a moment! Haven't you to plank down a three mark
deposit if you take out a book?"
Lilly, with a stare of astonishment, said "Yes."
"Well, as I don't happen to have that amount with me just now, you must
keep me as a deposit. You see, I give myself up as a sort of prisoner.
Awkward for both of us--eh? But what's to be done?"
Lilly could not help being amused, in spite of herself. She laughed out
loud.
"Ah! now she has forgiven me!" he exclaimed in triumph. "Her gracious
young majesty smiles on me. Now let us chat together like real friends.
Just look at me a moment, my Fraeulein. Do I appear to you like
a fellow who reads much? The only books I care about are Schlicht's,
Roda-Roda's, and Winterfeld's authors who are supposed to know the
humours of military life. My object in coming here is not books. May I
take you into my confidence?"
"If you must, yes," stammered Lilly, her eyes dazzled by the glint of
gold from under the sleeve of his tan overcoat. It was a revelation to
her that men wore gold bangles.
"I like to change into mufti of an evening," he went on; "by day, you
know, I wear uniform ... but it won't be for much longer. In a week or
two I shall be at a loose end. Debts ... I say, you don't know what
debts are? Happy you! Debts are the bitter dregs in the lemonade of
human existence, and this lemonade isn't oversweet at the best. But
what was I going to say? Oh, I know! Of an evening I play the part of a
Harum al Raschid in order to win the favour of the common herd, by
paying a little attention to the daughters of the people. Do you
understand me? Yesterday, sauntering in a remote wilderness of wild
hedges and new villas, I followed up two young women, ogling over their
shoulders, and swinging their skirts, behaving, in fact, as all nice,
well-brought-up girls are wont to do----"
"I do not care to continue this conversation," said Lilly, colouring
deeply from shame.
"Why not? You, my dear Fraeulein, of course, are a perfect lady, and
would not descend to anything of the kind. I was only confessing to you
in order to gain your absolution."
Instantly Lilly was pacified, and she let him babble on.
"The two young women in question walked in front of me arm-in-arm, but
directly I got up to them I slipped between like the sausage between
two slices of buttered bread. They became very sociable, and told me
that they were the owners of a large circulating library, and intended
shortly to open a fancy art business in Berlin, etc. They did not tell
me their address, and, as I am ashamed to say that till a few minutes
ago I thought they were worth cultivating, I looked up all the
circulating libraries in the directory. I find that there are only
three besides the leading bookshops, so I have been to two, and now I
am at the third. I swear the future proprietresses of the fancy art
business may go to the deuce, as far as I am concerned."
Lilly could not suppress a feeling of rising scorn and malicious joy,
but she took care not to betray the whereabouts of the two sisters.
Then, to show how completely in the presence of her majestic beauty his
desire for a vulgar flirtation had evaporated, he formally introduced
himself.
"I am Lieutenant von Prell," he said, "soon to be _ex_-Lieutenant von
Prell!"
She gave him an inquiring glance, and he added:
"As I hinted to you just now, Fraeulein, my days in the regiment are
numbered. This umbrella, which now serves one purpose only, will
probably before long be held over my head as a sunshade."
Did he not care for an officer's life any longer? Lilly asked.
"I don't know that there's any kind of life that I couldn't enjoy," he
answered, with mirth dancing in his light-grey eyes; "but the paternal
exchequer is low, and my pay as a slave in the army is about sufficient
to keep me in radishes, and even radishes are dear at Christmas. The
best thing I can do is to charter an old herring-cask and get myself
pickled. If you can tell me where one is to be got cheap, I'll pay the
damage."
Lilly laughed gaily in his face, and he laughed with her, putting his
arms akimbo and emitting a thin, soft giggle in an almost inaudible
treble, which nevertheless convulsed his too spare figure with
hilarious merriment.
They sat down opposite each other, like two good comrades, on either
side of the counter; and Lilly devoutly wished this hour could last for
ever.
When a maid-servant came in to change a novel for her mistress, he
settled himself for a stay by examining the titles of the books and
acting as if he were perfectly at home. He held open the door for the
little maid-servant when she went out, as if she were a duchess.
Lilly grew more and more amused, and couldn't restrain her laughter.
"Before another subscriber comes in, you must go," she said, "or people
will talk."
"Why? let them talk!"
But Lilly was firm, and he began to plead earnestly with her.
"You know, gracious Fraeulein, I enjoy the reputation of having no moral
sense whatever. I want you to be my support and anchor through life, at
any rate till the door opens next time. While I sit here I am safe from
playing the fool, and this fact I am sure must be cheering to your
benevolent heart."
So it was agreed that he might stay till the bell went again.
He sat back comfortably in his chair, and regarded Lilly with an air of
possession.
"All earthly troubles can be traced to talking too much," he began. "If
Columbus had kept the secret of the discovery of America to himself, no
unpleasantness would have arisen. I intend to be cleverer, and to keep
my discovery a sacred family secret between you and me. It would be
nuts to other fellows. But let them stick to twilight moths, like the
two future art-shop proprietresses to whom I am indebted for my budding
friendship with you."
The sisters had been forgotten by Lilly. It was about their time for
coming in. What if they were to open the door at this minute!
The bell tinkled. It was not they, however, but an old maid who
devoured every day a volume full of strong "love interest," and came in
the evening for more.
The volatile lieutenant remembered his compact. He started up from his
seat and composed himself to speak with a business-like air:
"Will you kindly let me have the last new book of----" he hesitated,
evidently at a loss to think of the name of a popular German author;
then, after racking his brain a moment, he added, "by Gerstaecker?"
Lilly fetched him this newest of new novels, bearing the date 1849, and
he counted out his three marks deposit, made an exaggerated bow, and
took his leave with little devils dancing between his light lashes.
A little later the sisters came in. They glanced suspiciously at
Lilly's flushed cheeks, and passed on without saying anything.
Nothing happened for the greater part of the next day, but Lilly was
full of excited premonitions, like a child before its birthday. She
felt on the threshold of new experiences. She was scarcely surprised
when at last the door opened and two slim and elegant youths entered.
They lisped "Good-evening," and asked her to recommend them a book to
read, in a tone of mingled diffidence and self-assurance, while they
measured her with the stare of expert judges.
Lilly's limbs grew numb, as they usually did, when she was conscious of
being observed and admired. Yet she retained her dignified manner, and
when the visitors had selected their trash without looking at it, and
attempted to engage her in jocular converse, she drew herself up and
took refuge behind the bookcase L to N, which was her shelter when she
sat in the window busy with her accounts and ledgers.
The young gentlemen, after a whispered consultation, took their
departure in silence.
He had betrayed her then--her lively new comrade. And henceforward Frau
Asmussen's shabby library became the crowded resort of tall, slender
young men of fashion, all animated by a passion for reading and a
desire to exchange one trumpery old novel after another.
Only a few dared come in uniform, but they did not shrink from signing
their names in full in the subscribers' book, which took on the
appearance of a veritable _Almanach de Gotha_.
Some assumed the cloak of business-like severity, others came in
careless certainty of victory. One began love-making on the spot,
another had the impertinence to bandy risque jests over the counter,
the most ingenuous of them went the length of asking on what day he was
to be honoured by a visit.
Lilly soon saw that there was nothing particularly injurious or
flattering to her in these attentions. She chatted innocently with
those who treated her politely, took no notice of the impertinent, and
directly a conversation seemed to be drawing out to too great a length,
she retired behind the bookcase L to N.
It did not take the Asmussen sisters many days to discover the
aristocratic intruders. Their jealous fury exceeded all the bounds of
decency. Every possible insult was hurled at Lilly, and she was abused
like a pickpocket. Unheard-of expletives were poured on her head in a
filthy stream.
The daughters demanded of their mother that Lilly should resign her
place at the counter to them. When this concession was refused, they
resorted to physical violence. Frau Asmussen came to Lilly's rescue in
her extremity. The broom rained heavy blows on the white night-jackets
of the furious maenads, and drove them into the back parlour, where the
battle ended in torrents of tears. But hostilities continued, and, if a
curb was put on emotions during the hours the library was open to
subscribers, all the more unbridled was their rancour in the evening.
Lilly's life became a hell on earth. Her soul grew encrusted with a
hardness and bitterness that filled her with both dismay and
satisfaction. Only at night, when she buried her face in the pillow,
did her defiance melt and her wretchedness find relief in silent
weeping.
The merry comrade with the light eyelashes, who had caused the whole
uproar, kept away. Not till a fortnight after his first visit did he
turn up again. He came in with rather a halting gait, and his eyes were
swollen and watery.
"These are picotees or clove carnations," he said, undoing a tissue
paper parcel in his hand, "which last longer than any parting pangs."
The sight of him brought a little comfort to Lilly, and she took the
bouquet as if it was something to which she had a right. Then she
reproached him for not having held his tongue.
"Didn't I tell you," he explained serenely, "that I haven't a vestige
of moral sense?"
He went on to tell her that he had finally left the regiment and been
feted by his fellow officers at a farewell dinner, and now there was
nothing to be done but to take his passage somewhere. The question was,
where? "Still, we needn't bother our heads about that yet," he went on;
"brilliant folks such as you and myself are bound to have brilliant
careers. My path in life will lead me by cool streams of champagne
through streets paved with _pate de fois gras_. That is Kismet, and
should it end in a fruit farm in Louisiana, I don't mind. Something new
is always interesting. In the meantime the old colonel is dead nuts on
me, and wants me on his estate as a sort of Fritz Triddelfitz."
He laughed his curious, almost inaudible laugh, which convulsed his
slight form.
Lilly asked who "the old colonel" was.
That she shouldn't know seemed to him inconceivable.
"Is it possible that you live in this world and have never heard of the
old colonel?" he asked. "The old colonel is the almighty; the old
colonel decides what is good and what is evil on this earth; he ruins
one man and pays another's debts with equal ease. He is the great
receptacle for all our virtues and all our sins. Above all, the old
colonel is eternally a boy. If he were to see you he would say, 'Come
along, little girl. I am a hoary-headed old monster, but I want you';
and then your courage will only permit of your saying, 'When do you
want me, your high and mightiness?' You see, my dear child, that is the
old colonel. They have put him on your track long ago, and if he finds
his way here, Lord have mercy on you! It will be all up then with my
beautiful young queen."
"But I still don't know who the old colonel is," interjected Lilly,
feeling a little uncomfortable at his mysterious prognostications.
"Then don't ask," he answered, and held out his freckled hand in
farewell. "It's really a pity," he added, blinking at her through his
half-closed light eyelashes with tender compassion. "We might have
given history another famous pair of lovers."
He leant over the counter. "As I am a man totally devoid of any moral
sense, may I borrow a kiss before I go?"
Lilly laughed and held up her mouth in reply.
He kissed her, and then dragged himself stiffly to the door.
"I can't run," he said. "Last night's banquet has made me a bit lazy,"
and he was gone.
The same feeling of uneasiness, which Lilly had felt after her lively
comrade's first visit, took possession of her again. She felt as if
someone was playfully lashing her with switches. Her anxiety caused her
torment mingled with pleasure. It was as if behind a closed golden door
her unknown fate crouched ready to spring on her--its prey.