It was six o'clock in the morning when Innstetten returned home from
Varzin. He made Rollo omit all demonstrations of affection and then
retired as quietly as possible to his room. Here he lay down in a
comfortable position, but would not allow Frederick to do more than
cover him up with a traveling rug. "Wake me at nine." And at this hour
he was wakened. He arose quickly and said: "Bring my breakfast."
"Her Ladyship is still asleep."
"But it is late. Has anything happened?"
"I don't know. I only know that Johanna had to sleep all night in her
Ladyship's room."
"Well, send Johanna to me then."
She came. She had the same rosy complexion as ever, and so seemed not
to have been specially upset by the events of the night.
"What is this I hear about her Ladyship? Frederick tells me something
happened and you slept in her room."
"Yes, Sir Baron. Her Ladyship rang three times in very quick
succession, and I thought at once it meant something. And it did, too.
She probably had a dream, or it may perhaps have been the other
thing."
"What other thing?"
"Oh, your Lordship knows, I believe."
"I know nothing. In any case we must put an end to it. And how did you
find her Ladyship?"
"She was beside herself and clung to Rollo's collar with all her
might. The dog was standing beside her Ladyship's bed and was
frightened also."
"And what had she dreamed, or, if you prefer, what had she heard or
seen? What did she say?"
"That it just slipped along close by her."
"What? Who?"
"The man from upstairs. The one from the social hall or from the small
chamber."
"Nonsense, I say. Over and over that same silly stuff. I don't want to
hear any more about it. And then you stayed with her Ladyship?"
"Yes, your Lordship. I made a bed on the floor close by her. And I had
to hold her hand, and then she went to sleep."
"And she is still sleeping?"
"Very soundly."
"I am worried about that, Johanna. One can sleep one's self well, but
also ill. We must waken her, cautiously, of course, so that she will
not be startled again. And tell Frederick not to bring the breakfast.
I will wait till her Ladyship is here. Now let me see how clever you
can be."
Half an hour later Effi came. She looked charming, but quite pale, and
was leaning on Johanna. The moment she caught sight of Innstetten she
rushed up to him and embraced and kissed him, while the tears streamed
down her face. "Oh, Geert, thank heaven, you are here. All is well
again now. You must not go away again, you must not leave me alone
again."
"My dear Effi--Just put it down, Frederick, I will do the rest--my
dear Effi, I am not leaving you alone from lack of consideration or
from caprice, but because it is necessary. I have no choice. I am a
man in office and cannot say to the Prince, or even to the Princess:
Your Highness, I cannot come; my wife is so alone, or, my wife is
afraid. If I said that it would put us in a rather comical light, me
certainly, and you, too. But first take a cup of coffee."
Effi drank her coffee and its stimulating effect was plainly to be
seen. Then she took her husband's hand again and said: "You shall have
your way. I see, it is impossible. And then, you know, we aspire to
something higher. I say we, for I am really more eager for it than
you."
"All wives are," laughed Innstetten.
"So it is settled. You will accept invitations as heretofore, and I
will stay here and wait for my 'High Lord,' which reminds me of Hulda
under the elder tree. I wonder how she is getting along?"
"Young ladies like Hulda always get along well. But what else were you
going to say?"
"I was going to say, I will stay here, and even alone, if necessary.
But not in this house. Let us move out. There are such handsome houses
along the quay, one between Consul Martens and Consul Grützmacher, and
one on the Market, just opposite Gieshübler. Why can't we live there?
Why here, of all places? When we have had friends and relatives as
guests in our house I have often heard that in Berlin families move
out on account of piano playing, or on account of cockroaches, or on
account of an unfriendly concierge. If it is done on account of such a
trifle--"
"Trifle? Concierge? Don't say that."
"If it is possible because of such things it must also be possible
here, where you are district councillor and the people are obliged to
do your bidding and many even owe you a debt of gratitude. Gieshübler
would certainly help us, even if only for my sake, for he will
sympathize with me. And now say, Geert, shall we give up this
abominable house, this house with the--"
"Chinaman, you mean. You see, Effi, one can pronounce the fearful word
without his appearing. What you saw or what, as you think, slipped
past your bed, was the little Chinaman that the maids pasted on the
back of the chair upstairs. I'll wager he had a blue coat on and a
very flat-crowned hat, with a shining button on top."
She nodded.
"Now you see, a dream, a hallucination. And then, I presume, Johanna
told you something last night, about the wedding upstairs."
"No."
"So much the better."
"She didn't tell me a word. But from all this I can see that there is
something queer here. And then the crocodile; everything is so uncanny
here."
"The first evening, when you saw the crocodile, you considered it
fairy-like--"
"Yes, then."
"And then, Effi, I can't well leave here now, even if it were possible
to sell the house or make an exchange. It is with this exactly as with
declining an invitation to Varzin. I can't have the people here in the
city saying that District Councillor Innstetten is selling his house
because his wife saw the little pasted-up picture of a Chinaman as a
ghost by her bed. I should be lost, Effi. One can never recover from
such ridiculousness."
"But, Geert, are you so sure that there is nothing of the kind?"
"That I will not affirm. It is a thing that one can believe or,
better, not believe. But supposing there were such things, what harm
do they do? The fact that bacilli are flying around in the air, of
which you have doubtless heard, is much worse and more dangerous than
all this scurrying about of ghosts, assuming that they do scurry
about, and that such a thing really exists. Then I am particularly
surprised to see _you_ show such fear and such an aversion, you a
Briest. Why, it is as though you came from a low burgher family.
Ghosts are a distinction, like the family tree and the like, and I
know families that would as lief give up their coat of arms as their
'Lady in white,' who may even be in black, for that matter."
Effi remained silent.
"Well, Effi; no answer?"
"What do you expect me to answer? I have given in to you and shown
myself docile, but I think you in turn might be more sympathetic. If
you knew how I long for sympathy. I have suffered a great deal, really
a very great deal, and when I saw you I thought I should now be rid of
my fear. But you merely told me you had no desire to make yourself
ridiculous in the eyes either of the Prince or of the city. That is
small comfort. I consider it small, and so much the smaller, since, to
cap the climax, you contradict yourself, and not only seem to believe
in these things yourself, but even expect me to have a nobleman's
pride in ghosts. Well, I haven't. When you talk about families that
value their ghosts as highly as their coat of arms, all I have to say
is, that is a matter of taste, and I count my coat of arms worth more.
Thank heaven, we Briests have no ghosts. The Briests were always very
good people and that probably accounts for it."
The dispute would doubtless have gone on longer and might perhaps have
led to a first serious misunderstanding if Frederick had not entered
to hand her Ladyship a letter. "From Mr. Gieshübler. The messenger is
waiting for an answer."
All the ill-humor on Effi's countenance vanished immediately. It did
her good merely to hear Gieshübler's name, and her cheerful feeling
was further heightened when she examined the letter. In the first
place it was not a letter at all, but a note, the address "Madame the
Baroness von Innstetten, _née_ Briest," in a beautiful court hand, and
instead of a seal a little round picture pasted on, a lyre with a
staff sticking in it. But the staff might also be an arrow. She handed
the note to her husband, who likewise admired it.
"Now read it."
Effi broke open the wafer and read: "Most highly esteemed Lady, most
gracious Baroness: Permit me to join to my most respectful forenoon
greeting a most humble request. By the noon train a dear friend of
mine for many years past, a daughter of our good city of Kessin, Miss
Marietta Trippelli, will arrive here to sojourn in our midst
till tomorrow morning. On the 17th she expects to be in St.
Petersburg, where she will give concerts till the middle of January.
Prince Kotschukoff is again opening his hospitable house to her. In
her immutable kindness to me, Miss Trippelli has promised to spend
this evening at my house and sing some songs, leaving the choice
entirely to me, for she knows no such thing as difficulty. Could
Madame the Baroness consent to attend this soirée musicale, at seven
o'clock? Your husband, upon whose appearance I count with certainty,
will support my most humble request. The only other guests are Pastor
Lindequist, who will accompany, and the widow Trippel, of course.
Your most obedient servant. A. Gieshübler."
"Well," said Innstetten, "yes or no?"
"Yes, of course. That will pull me through. Besides, I cannot decline
my dear Gieshübler's very first invitation."
"Agreed. So, Frederick, tell Mirambo, for I take it for granted he
brought the letter, that we shall have the honor."
Frederick went out. When he was gone Effi asked: "Who is Mirambo?"
"The genuine Mirambo is a robber chief in Africa,--Lake Tanganyika, if
your geography extends that far--but ours is merely Gieshübler's
charcoal dispenser and factotum, and will this evening, in all
probability, serve as a waiter in dress coat and cotton gloves."
It was quite apparent that the little incident had had a favorable
effect on Effi and had restored to her a good share of her
light-heartedness. But Innstetten wished to do what he could to hasten
the convalescence. "I am glad you said yes, so quickly and without
hesitation, and now I should like to make a further proposal to you to
restore you entirely to your normal condition. I see plainly, you are
still annoyed by something from last night foreign to my Effi and it
must be got rid of absolutely. There is nothing better for that than
fresh air. The weather is splendid, cool and mild at the same time,
with hardly a breeze stirring. How should you like to take a drive
with me? A long one, not merely out through the "Plantation." In the
sleigh, of course, with the sleigh-bells on and the white snow
blankets. Then if we are back by four you can take a rest, and at
seven we shall be at Gieshübler's and hear Trippelli."
Effi took his hand. "How good you are, Geert, and how indulgent! For I
must have seemed to you very childish, or at least very childlike,
first in the episode of fright and then, later, when I asked you to
sell the house, but worst of all in what I said about the Prince. I
urged you to break off all connection with him, and that would be
ridiculous. For after all he is the one man who has to decide our
destiny. Mine, too. You don't know how ambitious I am. To tell the
truth, it was only out of ambition that I married you. Oh, you must
not put on such a serious expression. I love you, you know. What is it
we say when we pluck a blossom and tear off the petals? 'With all my
heart, with grief and pain, beyond compare.'" She burst out laughing.
"And now tell me," she continued, as Innstetten still kept silent,
"whither shall we go?"
"I thought, to the railway station, by a roundabout way, and then back
by the turnpike. We can dine at the station or, better, at
Golchowski's, at the Prince Bismarck Hotel, which we passed on the day
of our return home, as you perhaps remember. Such a visit always has a
good effect, and then I can have a political conversation with the
Starost by the grace of Effi, and even if he does not amount to much
personally he keeps his hotel in good condition and his cuisine in
still better. The people here are connoisseurs when it comes to eating
and drinking."
It was about eleven when they had this conversation. At twelve Kruse
drove the sleigh up to the door and Effi got in. Johanna was going to
bring a foot bag and furs, but Effi, after all that she had juat
passed through, felt so strongly the need of fresh air that she took
only a double blanket and refused everything else. Innstetten said to
Kruse: "Now, Kruse, we want to drive to the station where you and I
were this morning. The people will wonder at it, but that doesn't
matter. Say, we drive here past the 'Plantation,' and then to the left
toward the Kroschentin church tower. Make the horses fly. We must be
at the station at one."
Thus began the drive. Over the white roofs of the city hung a bank of
smoke, for there was little stir in the air. They flew past Utpatel's
mill, which turned very slowly, and drove so close to the churchyard
that the tips of the barberry bushes which hung out over the lattice
brushed against Effi, and showered snow upon her blanket. On the other
side of the road was a fenced-in plot, not much larger than a garden
bed, and with nothing to be seen inside except a young pine tree,
which rose out of the centre.
"Is anybody buried there?" asked Effi.
"Yes, the Chinaman."
Effi was startled; it came to her like a stab. But she had strength
enough to control herself and ask with apparent composure: "Ours?"
"Yes, ours. Of course, he could not be accommodated in the community
graveyard and so Captain Thomsen, who was what you might call his
friend, bought this patch and had him buried here. There is also a
stone with an inscription. It all happened before my time, of course,
but it is still talked about."
"So there is something in it after all. A story. You said something of
the kind this morning. And I suppose it would be best for me to hear
what it is. So long as I don't know, I shall always be a victim of my
imaginations, in spite of all my good resolutions. Tell me the real
story. The reality cannot worry me so much as my fancy."
"Good for you, Effi. I didn't intend to speak about it. But now it
comes in naturally, and that is well. Besides, to tell the truth, it
is nothing at all."
"All the same to me: nothing at all or much or little. Only begin."
"Yes, that is easy to say. The beginning is always the hardest part,
even with stories. Well, I think I shall begin with Captain Thomsen."
"Very well."
"Now Thomsen, whom I have already mentioned, was for many years a
so-called China-voyager, always on the way between Shanghai and
Singapore with a cargo of rice, and may have been about sixty when he
arrived here. I don't know whether he was born here or whether he had
other relations here. To make a long story short, now that he was here
he sold his ship, an old tub that he disposed of for very little, and
bought a house, the same that we are now living in. For out in the
world he had become a wealthy man. This accounts for the crocodile and
the shark and, of course, the ship. Thomsen was a very adroit man, as
I have been told, and well liked, even by Mayor Kirstein, but above
all by the man who was at that time the pastor in Kessin, a native of
Berlin, who had come here shortly before Thomsen and had met with a
great deal of opposition."
"I believe it. I notice the same thing. They are so strict and
self-righteous here. I believe that is Pomeranian."
"Yes and no, depending. There are other regions where they are not at
all strict and where things go topsy-turvy--But just see, Effi, there
we have the Kroschentin church tower right close in front of us. Shall
we not give up the station and drive over to see old Mrs. von
Grasenabb? Sidonie, if I am rightly informed, is not at home. So we
might risk it."
"I beg you, Geert, what are you thinking of? Why, it is heavenly to
fly along thus, and I can simply feel myself being restored and all my
fear falling from me. And now you ask me to sacrifice all that merely
to pay these old people a flying visit and very likely cause them
embarrassment. For heaven's sake let us not. And then I want above all
to hear the story. We were talking about Captain Thomsen, whom I
picture to myself as a Dane or an Englishman, very clean, with white
stand-up collar, and perfectly white linen."
"Quite right. So he is said to have looked. And with him lived a young
person of about twenty, whom some took for his niece, but most people
for his grand-daughter. The latter, however, considering their ages,
was hardly possible. Beside the grand-daughter or the niece, there was
also a Chinaman living with him, the same one who lies there among the
dunes and whose grave we have just passed."
"Fine, fine."
"This Chinaman was a servant at Thomsen's and Thomsen thought a great
deal of him, so that he was really more a friend than a servant. And
it remained so for over a year. Then suddenly it was rumored that
Thomsen's grand-daughter, who, I believe, was called Nina, was to be
married to a captain, in accordance with the old man's wish. And so
indeed it came about. There was a grand wedding at the house, the
Berlin pastor married them. The miller Utpatel, a Scottish Covenanter,
and Gieshübler, a feeble light in church matters, were invited, but
the more prominent guests were a number of captains with their wives
and daughters. And, as you can imagine, there was a lively time. In
the evening there was dancing, and the bride danced with every man and
finally with the Chinaman. Then all of a sudden the report spread that
she had vanished. And she was really gone, somewhere, but nobody knew
just what had happened. A fortnight later the Chinaman died. Thomsen
bought the plot I have shown you and had him buried in it. The Berlin
Pastor is said to have remarked: 'The Chinaman might just as well have
been buried in the Christian churchyard, for he was a very good man
and exactly as good as the rest.' Whom he really meant by the rest,
Gieshübler says nobody quite knew."
"Well, in this matter I am absolutely against the pastor. Nobody ought
to say such things, for they are dangerous and unbecoming. Even
Niemeyer would not have said that."
"The poor pastor, whose name, by the way, was Trippel, was very
seriously criticised for it, and it was truly a blessing that he soon
afterward died, for he would have lost his position otherwise. The
city was opposed to him, just as you are, in spite of the fact that
they had called him, and the Consistory, of course, was even more
antagonistic."
"Trippel, you say? Then, I presume, there is some connection between
him and the pastor's widow, Mrs. Trippel, whom we are to see this
evening."
"Certainly there is a connection. He was her husband, and the father
of Miss Trippelli."
Effi laughed. "Of Miss Trippelli! At last I see the whole affair in a
clear light. That she was born in Kessin, Gieshübler wrote me, you
remember. But I thought she was the daughter of an Italian consul. We
have so many foreign names here, you know. And now I find she is good
German and a descendant of Trippel. Is she so superior that she could
venture to Italianize her name in this fashion?"
"The daring shall inherit the earth. Moreover she is quite good. She
spent a few years in Paris with the famous Madame Viardot, and there
made the acquaintance of the Russian Prince. Russian Princes, you
know, are very enlightened, are above petty class prejudices, and
Kotschukoff and Gieshübler--whom she calls uncle, by the way, and one
might almost call him a born uncle--it is, strictly speaking, these
two who have made little Marie Trippel what she is. It was Gieshübler
who induced her to go to Paris and Kotschukoff made her over into
Marietta Trippelli."
"Ah, Geert, what a charming story this is and what a humdrum life I
have led in Hohen-Cremmen! Never a thing out of the ordinary."
Innstetten took her hand and said: "You must not speak thus, Effi.
With respect to ghosts one may take whatever attitude one likes. But
beware of 'out of the ordinary' things, or what is loosely called out
of the ordinary. That which appears to you so enticing, even a life
such as Miss Trippelli leads, is as a rule bought at the price of
happiness. I know quite well how you love Hohen-Cremmen and are
attached to it, but you often make sport of it, too, and have no
conception of how much quiet days like those in Hohen-Cremmen mean."
"Yes I have," she said. "I know very well. Only I like to hear about
something else once in a while, and then the desire comes over me to
have a similar experience. But you are quite right, and, to tell the
truth, I long for peace and quiet."
Innstetten shook his finger at her. "My dear, dear Effi, that again
you only imagine. Always fancies, first one thing, then another."