Effi left home in the middle of August and was back in Kessin at the
end of September. During the six weeks' visit she had often longed to
return, but when she now reached the house and entered the dark hall
into which no light could enter except the little from the stairway,
she had a sudden feeling of fear and said to herself: "There is no
such pale, yellow light in Hohen-Cremmen."
A few times during the days in Hohen-Cremmen she had longed for the
"Haunted house," but on the whole her life there had been full of
happiness and contentment. To be sure, she had not known what to
make of Hulda, who was not taking kindly to her rôle of waiting
for a husband or fiancé to turn up. With the twins, however, she
got along much better, and more than once when she played ball or
croquet with them she entirely forgot that she was married. Those
were happy moments. Her chief delight was, as in former days, to
stand on the swing board as it flew through the air and gave her
a tingling sensation, a shudder of sweet danger, when she felt she
would surely fall the next moment. When she finally sprang out of
the swing, she went with the two girls to sit on the bench in front
of the schoolhouse and there told old Mr. Jahnke, who joined them,
about her life in Kessin, which she said was half-hanseatic and
half-Scandinavian, and anything but a replica of Schwantikow and
Hohen-Cremmen.
Such were the little daily amusements, to which were added occasional
drives into the summery marsh, usually in the dog-cart. But Effi liked
above everything else the chats she had almost every morning with her
mother, as they sat upstairs in the large airy room, while Roswitha
rocked the baby and sang lullabies in a Thuringian dialect which
nobody fully understood, perhaps not even Roswitha. Effi and her
mother would move over to the open window and look out upon the park,
the sundial, or the pond with the dragon flies hovering almost
motionless above it, or the tile walk, where von Briest sat beside the
porch steps reading the newspapers. Every time he turned a page he
took off his nose glasses and greeted his wife and daughter. When he
came to his last paper, usually the _Havelland Advertiser_, Effi went
down either to sit beside him or stroll with him through the garden
and park. On one such occasion they stepped from the gravel walk over
to a little monument standing to one side, which Briest's grandfather
had erected in memory of the battle of Waterloo. It was a rusty
pyramid with a bronze cast of Blücher in front and one of Wellington
in the rear.
"Have you any such walks in Kessin?" said von Briest, "and does
Innstetten accompany you and tell you stories?"
"No, papa, I have no such walks. It is out of the question, for we
have only a small garden behind the house, in reality hardly a garden
at all, just a few box-bordered plots and vegetable beds with three or
four fruit trees. Innstetten has no appreciation of such things and, I
fancy, does not expect to stay much longer in Kessin."
"But, child, you must have exercise and fresh air, for you are
accustomed to them."
"Oh, I have both. Our house is situated near a grove, which they call
the 'Plantation,' and I walk there a great deal and Rollo with me."
"Always Rollo," laughed von Briest. "If I didn't know better, I should
be tempted to think that you cared more for Rollo than for your
husband and child."
"Ah, papa, that would be terrible, even if I am forced to admit that
there was a time when I could not have gotten along without Rollo.
That was--oh, you know when--On that occasion he virtually saved my
life, or I at least fancied he did, and since then he has been my good
friend and my chief dependence. But he is only a dog, and of course
human beings come first."
"Yes, that is what they always say, but I have my doubts. There is
something peculiar about brute creatures and a correct understanding
of them has not yet been arrived at. Believe me, Effi, this is another
wide field. When I think how a person has an accident on the water or
on the slippery ice, and some dog, say, one like your Rollo, is at
hand, he will not rest till he has brought the unfortunate person to
the shore. And if the victim is already dead, the dog will lie down
beside him and bark and whine till somebody comes, and if nobody
comes he will stay by the corpse till he himself is dead. That is what
such an animal always does. And now take mankind on the other hand.
God forgive me for saying it, but it sometimes seems to me as though
the brute creature were better than man."
"But, papa, if I said that to Innstetten--"
"No, Effi, you would better not."
"Rollo would rescue me, of course, but Innstetten would, too. He is a
man of honor, you know."
"That he is."
"And loves me."
"That goes without saying. And where there is love it is reciprocated.
That is the way of the world. I am only surprised that he didn't take
a vacation and flit over here. When one has such a young wife--"
Effi blushed, for she thought exactly the same thing. But she did not
care to admit it. "Innstetten is so conscientious and he desires to be
thought well of, I believe, and has his own plans for the future.
Kessin, you know, is only a stepping stone. And, after all, I am not
going to run away from him. He has me, you see. If he were too
affectionate--beside the difference between our ages--people would
merely smile."
"Yes, they would, Effi. But one must not mind that. Now, don't say
anything about it, not even to mama. It is so hard to say what to do
and what not. That is also a wide field."
More than once during Effi's visit with her parents such conversations
as the above had occurred, but fortunately their effect had not lasted
long. Likewise the melancholy impression made upon her by the Kessin
house at the moment of her return quickly faded away. Innstetten was
full of little attentions, and when tea had been taken and the news
of the city and the gossip about lovers had been talked over in a
merry mood Effi took his arm affectionately and went into the other
room with him to continue their chat and hear some anecdotes about
Miss Trippelli, who had recently had another lively correspondence
with Gieshübler. This always meant a new debit on her never settled
account. During this conversation Effi was very jolly, enjoying to the
full the emotions of a young wife, and was glad to be rid of Roswitha,
who had been transferred to the servants' quarters for an indefinite
period.
The next morning she said: "The weather is beautiful and mild and I
hope the veranda on the side toward the 'Plantation' is in good order,
so that we can move out of doors and take breakfast there. We shall be
shut up in our rooms soon enough, at best, for the Kessin winters are
really four weeks too long."
Innstetten agreed heartily. The veranda Effi spoke of, which might
perhaps better be called a tent, had been put up in the summer, three
or four weeks before Effi's departure for Hohen-Cremmen. It consisted
of a large platform, with the side in front open, an immense awning
overhead, while to the right and left there were broad canvas
curtains, which could be shoved back and forth by means of rings on an
iron rod. It was a charming spot and all summer long was admired by
the visitors who passed by on their way to the baths.
Effi had leaned back in a rocking chair and said, as she pushed the
coffee tray toward her husband: "Geert, you might play the amiable
host today. I for my part find this rocker so comfortable that I do
not care to get up. So exert yourself and if you are right glad to
have me back again I shall easily find some way to get even." As she
said this she straightened out the white damask cloth and laid her
hand upon it. Innstetten took her hand and kissed it.
"Well, how did you get on without me?"
"Badly enough, Effi."
"You just say so and try to look gloomy, but in reality there is not a
word of truth in it."
"Why, Effi--"
"As I will prove to you, If you had had the least bit of longing for
your child--I will not speak of myself, for, after all, what is a
woman to such a high lord, who was a bachelor for so many years and
was in no hurry--"
"Well?"
"Yes, Geert, if you had had just the least bit of longing, you would
not have left me for six weeks to enjoy widow-like my own sweet
society in Hohen-Cremmen, with nobody about but Niemeyer and Jahnke,
and now and then our friends in Schwantikow. Nobody at all came from
Rathenow, which looked as though they were afraid of me, or I had
grown too old."
"Ah, Effi, how you do talk! Do you know that you are a little
coquette?"
"Thank heaven that you say so. You men consider a coquette the best
thing a woman can be. And you yourself are not different from the
rest, even if you do put on such a solemn and honorable air. I know
very well, Geert--To tell the truth, you are--"
"Well, what?"
"Well, I prefer not to say. But I know you very well. To tell the
truth, you are, as my Schwantikow uncle once said, an affectionate
man, and were born under the star of love, and Uncle Belling was quite
right when he said so. You merely do not like to show it and think it
is not proper and spoils one's career. Have I struck it?"
Innstetten laughed. "You have struck it a little bit. And let me tell
you, Effi, you seem to me entirely changed. Before little Annie came
you were a child, but all of a sudden--"
"Well?"
"All of a sudden you are like another person. But it is becoming to
you and I like you very much. Shall I tell you further?"
"What?"
"There is something alluring about you."
"Oh, my only Geert, why, what you say is glorious. Now my heart is
gladder than ever--Give me another half a cup--Do you know that that
is what I have always desired? We women must be alluring, or we are
nothing whatever."
"Is that your own idea?"
"I might have originated it, but I got it from Niemeyer."
"From Niemeyer! My, oh my, what a fine pastor he is! Well, I just tell
you, there are none like him here. But how did he come by it? Why, it
seems as though some Don Juan, some regular heart smasher had said
it."
"Ah, who knows?" laughed Effi. "But isn't that Crampas coming there?
And from the beach! You don't suppose he has been swimming? On the
27th of September!"
"He often does such things, purely to make an impression."
Crampas had meanwhile come up quite near and greeted them.
"Good morning," cried Innstetten. "Come closer, come closer."
Crampas, in civilian dress, approached and kissed Effi's hand. She
went on rocking, and Innstetten said: "Excuse me, Major, for doing the
honors of the house so poorly; but the veranda is not a house and,
strictly speaking, ten o'clock in the morning is no time. At this hour
we omit formalities, or, if you like, we all make ourselves at home.
So sit down and give an account of your actions. For by your hair,--I
wish for your sake there were more of it--I see plainly you have been
swimming."
He nodded.
"Inexcusable," said Innstetten, half in earnest and half joking. "Only
four weeks ago you yourself witnessed Banker Heinersdorf's calamity.
He too thought the sea and the magnificent waves would respect him on
account of his millions. But the gods are jealous of each other, and
Neptune, without any apparent cause, took sides against Pluto, or at
least against Heinersdorf."
Crampas laughed. "Yes, a million marks! If I had that much, my dear
Innstetten, I should not have risked it, I presume; for beautiful as
the weather is, the water was only 9° centigrade. But a man like me,
with his million deficit,--permit me this little bit of boasting--a
man like me can take such liberties without fearing the jealousy of
the gods. Besides, there is comfort in the proverb, 'Whoever is born
for the noose cannot perish in the water.'"
"Why, Major," said Effi, "you don't mean to talk your neck
into--excuse me!--such an unprosaic predicament, do you? To be sure,
many believe--I refer to what you just said--that every man more or
less deserves to be hanged. And yet, Major--for a major--"
"It is not the traditional way of dying. I admit it, your Ladyship.
Not traditional and, in my case, not even very probable. So it was
merely a quotation, or, to be more accurate, a common expression.
Still, there is some sincerity back of it when I say the sea will not
harm me, for I firmly expect to die a regular, and I hope honorable,
soldier's death. Originally it was only a gypsy's prophesy, but with
an echo in my own conscience."
Innstetten laughed. "There will be a few obstacles, Crampas, unless
you plan to serve under the Sublime Porte or the Chinese dragon. There
the soldiers are knocking each other around now. Take my word for it,
that kind of business is all over here for the next thirty years, and
if anybody has the desire to meet his death as a soldier--"
"He must first order a war of Bismarck. I know all about it,
Innstetten. But that is a mere bagatelle for you. It is now the end of
September. In ten weeks at the latest the Prince will be in Varzin
again, and as he has a liking for you--I will refrain from using the
more vulgar term, to avoid facing the barrel of your pistol--you will
be able, won't you, to provide a little war for an old Vionville
comrade? The Prince is only a human being, like the rest of us, and a
kind word never comes amiss."
During this conversation Effi had been wadding bread and tossing it on
the table, then making figures out of the little balls, to indicate
that a change of topic was desirable. But Innstetten seemed bent on
answering Crampas's joking remarks, for which reason Effi decided it
would be better for her simply to interrupt. "I can't see, Major, why
we should trouble ourselves about your way of dying. Life lies nearer
to us and is for the time being a more serious matter."
Crampas nodded.
"I am glad you agree with me. How are we to live here? That is the
question right now. That is more important than anything else.
Gieshübler has written me a letter on the subject and I would show it
to you if it did not seem indiscreet or vain, for there are a lot of
other things besides in the letter. Innstetten doesn't need to read
it; he has no appreciation of such things. Incidentally, the
handwriting is like engraving, and the style is what one would expect
if our Kessin friend had been brought up at an Old French court. The
fact that he is humpbacked and wears white jabots such as no other
human being wears--I can't imagine where he has them ironed--all this
fits so well. Now Gieshübler has written to me about plans for the
evenings at the club, and about a manager by the name of Crampas. You
see, Major, I like that better than the soldier's death, let alone the
other."
"And I, personally, no less than you. It will surely be a splendid
winter if we may feel assured of the support of your Ladyship. Miss
Trippelli is coming--"
"Trippelli? Then I am superfluous."
"By no means, your Ladyship. Miss Trippelli cannot sing from one
Sunday till the next; it would be too much for her and for us. Variety
is the spice of life, a truth which, to be sure, every happy marriage
seems to controvert."
"If there are any happy marriages, mine excepted," and she held out
her hand to Innstetten.
"Variety then," continued Crampas. "To secure it for ourselves and our
club, of which for the time being I have the honor to be the
vice-president, we need the help of everybody who can be depended
upon. If we put our heads together we can turn this whole place upside
down. The theatrical pieces have already been selected--_War in Peace,
Mr. Hercules, Youthful Love,_ by Wilbrandt, and perhaps _Euphrosyne_,
by Gensichen. You as Euphrosyne and I middle-aged Goethe. You will be
astonished to see how well I can act the prince of poets, if act is
the right word."
"No doubt. In the meantime I have learned from the letter of my
alchemistic correspondent that, in addition to your other
accomplishments, you are an occasional poet. At first I was
surprised."
"You couldn't see that I looked the part."
"No. But since I have found out that you go swimming at 9° I have
changed my mind. Nine degrees in the Baltic Sea beats the Castalian
Fountain."
"The temperature of which is unknown."
"Not to me; at least nobody will contradict me. But now I must get up.
There comes Roswitha with little Annie."
She arose and went toward Roswitha, took the child, and tossed it up
with pride and joy.