A SENSATIONAL EVENT STIRS THE GARRISON
It was plain daylight when the last guests left the Casino. Without
exception, liberal indulgence in champagne and brandy had done its
work, and the motley crowd that left the building thus "early" was in
a decidedly boisterous mood, and the limits of decency and good
manners had been passed by them hours before.
The nearby church bell struck the hour of seven as Captain Stark and
his wife, as well as the colonel and his better half, climbed into the
capacious vehicle that had been waiting for them at the door of the
club-house for several hours. The horses had become stiff in the
joints, and, with a cold and raw blustering wind to chill them, they
were now forced to pull their heavy load on the miry highway leading
toward town. The coachman had to use his whip freely to make the poor
beasts break into a sorry trot; but at last the human load had been
deposited before their doors.
Lieutenant von Meckelburg and First Lieutenant Specht could scarcely
keep on their legs; but, nevertheless, they walked straight from the
Casino to the barracks, where they were to give, each of them, an
hour's instruction to the recruits. They quickly doffed their
fantastic gear--the organ had been left behind by the lieutenant; but
when they appeared before their pupils the latter could scarcely
suppress a shout of laughter. For Specht had in his hurry forgotten to
remove his artificial moustache, and this gave him such an unusual
appearance that it was only when his voice, somewhat shaken by
alcoholic excesses, met the soldiers' ears that they felt sure whom
they had before them. The "instruction" he thus imparted was certainly
very far from enlightening their minds on the duties falling to the
share of a defender of the fatherland.
Most of the other officers preferred, however, a good long sleep, and
simply ignored the work of the day. It was only towards noon when the
first captain showed his face at the barracks.
Captain König and his faithful Lieutenant Bleibtreu were, in fact, the
only officers of the whole regiment who attended to their duties in
the forenoon, they having gone home at reasonable hours. Their
principle was: first the work, and then the amusement.
Captain Hagemann showed himself in the streets, mounted on his
favorite horse, as the noon hour struck. He had not yet recovered his
equilibrium, and the horse seemed to appreciate that fact
instinctively. He carried his master with such tender commiseration
for the condition of the latter that he picked his way as carefully as
if walking on ice.
Stark himself preferred to remain altogether at home. His "Kater"[15]
was inexorable, and demanded a long, unbroken rest to find its way out
of the muddled brain of its owner. His place in the regiment was, as
usual, filled by his tireless lady. Holding her husband's official
note-book in her hand, she went her rounds, noticing the presence of
all the men and non-commissioned officers, and making a black mark
against the name of Lieutenant Kolberg, as he was absent without
leave.
[15] "Kater," a slang term for the demoralized condition
consequent upon alcoholic overindulgence.--TR.
At 1.30 she received a visit from Hagemann, who came to make most
elaborate and humble excuses because he had been audacious enough to
indulge in gibes at the expense of the doughty lady during the ball.
In fact, while in the enterprising stage which forms so interesting a
part of the effects produced on human bipeds by champagne, he had been
bold enough to pay her some strongly ironical compliments in her
capacity of "mermaid." He had told her incidentally that she was
eminently fitted for her part, as it was a well-known physiological
fact that fat kept afloat on water. Frau Stark, who was proof at all
times both against flattery and against the insinuating allurements of
the foamy liquid, and who was as much matter-of-fact to-day as she had
been the night before, merely deigned to accept these excuses with a
small nod and a dry "That will do!"
Leimann, on his part, likewise started out on a tour of visits, the
sole purpose of which was to offer much-needed explanations and
apologies to nearly every member of the club whom he had offended
more or less seriously during the period of his "howling desolation."
Night had come, in fact, when the larger number of the officers met at
a solemn "Dämmerschoppen" at the Casino,--a process of applying hair
of the dog that bit you to cure the injury. They discussed in voices
still considerably husky and thick the doings and misdoings at the
entertainment of the previous night. Criticism was applied freely to
everybody who happened to be absent; but about Leimann judgment was
unanimous: he was a beast.
It was Borgert's part to report to the assembled "Corona,"[16] in his
inimitable manner, about that part of the adventures of Kolberg and
Frau Kahle which had come under his personal observation.
[16] "Corona," meaning all the drinkers present; a student's
expression.--TR.
Nothing had escaped his lynx eye, and he related with great gusto what
he had not failed to discover of the interesting proceedings in the
arbor. Even the protection of the screen had not been sufficient to
blind him.
While all these things were said about them, Kolberg and Frau Kahle
were sitting near a good fire in his room, enjoying the renewal of
their intimacy.
On pretext of necessary purchases, she had escaped the vigilance of
her husband, and under the protection of the dark had hastened to that
end of the town and to the garden behind the walls of which stood the
small house inhabited by Kolberg. Tall chestnut trees, throwing their
shadows over its roof, gave it additional seclusion.
What was there really for her to make life enjoyable? Aside from walks
in the woods nearby there was nothing to do for her the live-long day,
so that she felt it a positive blessing to have, as often as
circumstances would permit, a cosy tête-à-tête with Kolberg. Her
husband, too, was not the kind of man a woman could be happy with.
Hard drinking and interminable hours spent at the Casino were all he
cared for. The estrangement between him and his wife had been almost
complete even before Pommer, and now, since his going, Kolberg had
crossed her path.
In this way passed several months.
The secret of the intimate relations existing between Kolberg and Frau
Kahle had slowly filtered down into all the strata of society
represented in the little town, and they formed even one of the
regular themes of conversation in the low-class dramshops on the
outskirts of the town where the laboring population lived.
Even Kolberg's comrades knew about it, but none of them felt rash
enough to undertake mediation or interference in such a delicate
matter where the tangible proofs seemed not within reach. It was to be
expected, that if confronted with the facts of the case as far as
these were palpable, both parties concerned would simply deny the
damaging allegation, and in such a case the rôle of the advising
friend might easily have become one of great difficulty. The accuser
might then have been charged with assailing the honor of a lady of the
regiment and that of a fellow-officer. Such a charge, in the absence
of absolute proof, could have had but one issue. For who could tell
whether the sole witness to some of the escapades of the two--that is,
Kolberg's man--would stick to his statements as soon as he should see
that circumstances became serious? Perhaps--and that seemed
probable--he would entirely recant from fear of punishment for having
secretly played the spy on his master. And suppose he then represented
the facts in a more harmless light, who could gainsay him?
On the other hand, it was justly feared that the _dénouement_ of this
matter would raise much dust, and lead to the resigning of one
comrade, to a serious duel, and to the disruption of another comrade's
household. And as Captain Kahle was rather popular with his comrades,
because of his open-handedness and his easy good nature, nobody felt
like opening his eyes to the miserable intrigue.
Therefore everything remained as it was, and only malignant gossip
increased in volume, so that Captain König at last resolved to give
the commander of the regiment a hint of affairs in a spirit of strict
privacy.
But the colonel asked, as soon as the ticklish subject was broached:
"Do you report this to me officially? No? Well, then, I don't want to
know anything about it. I won't burn my fingers in meddling with a
matter of that kind."
König himself did not feel like becoming the instigator of a most
disastrous scandal. After all, it was not primarily an affair where he
ought to take the initiative, and this aside from the further
consideration that he would probably become involved in a duel by
taking the lead in exposing the guilty parties. He therefore also made
up his mind to keep quiet.
Thus it was that nothing was done by anybody to put a stop to all this
mischievous talk, and to put out of the world a matter which was of
the greatest injury to the regiment and to the whole corps of
officers,--a matter, too, in which the civilian population was
perfectly justified in pointing the finger of scorn at them. And
whereas in other circles, in civilian ones, the guilty parties would
under similar circumstances have been called to account, in this
instance a state of things was permitted to exist for a number of
months which scandalized every decent person who, while forced by
social conventions to meet the offenders on terms of equality, would
have entirely shunned them once proper steps were taken to conciliate
outraged public opinion. And this was all the more reprehensible
because it affected a caste which deems itself superior to any other
within the monarchy, and which believes itself to be the guardian of
good manners and morals, and of a high conception of honor.
The largest measure of blame necessarily fell to the share of Colonel
von Kronau. This gentleman, at all other times ready to proceed with
stringent severity wherever he discovered slight breaches of
discipline or of the mechanical details of drill, and who knew no
clemency where nothing was to be feared for himself by playing the
rigid taskmaster, in this instance tolerated this shameful thing; for
he knew that interference in this particular would mean for him, in
any case, serious inconvenience. Two things were possible. Either he
would be charged with falsely accusing others, or else his position as
commander would receive such a blow as to make it perhaps untenable,
once his superiors should obtain knowledge of the actual state of
affairs within the regiment. Neither of these contingencies was to his
taste.
It was, therefore, with great relief that he one day received the
official notification of Captain Kahle's promotion to a majority,
together with an order of the latter's transference to a garrison in
South Germany. That, then, meant the longed-for end of this horrible
business, and he doubly rejoiced that he had not acted on the spur of
impulse; for he doubted not that, if he had, the outcome would not
have been as favorable.
Kahle felt naturally greatly elated at his unexpectedly rapid
promotion. At last he had reached the goal of his ambition. For many
years, ever since he had entered the army as a beardless stripling, it
had been his aim to attain to a commanding position. And once up the
ladder as far as major,--the critical point in the career of every
German army officer,--he could with confidence await further
promotions in the course of time; for he was not devoid of talent in
his profession, and had devoted much serious study and research to its
higher spheres, although the benumbing effects of the dissolute and
monotonous life in the little garrison had also had upon him decidedly
deleterious effects. He had acquired drinking habits, and his
domestic peace had, as he was aware, for some time suffered therefrom;
but he felt sure that amid new and more inspiring surroundings he
could pull himself together and become once more his old self of
former days. Hence the new Major Kahle felt happy, and no cloud
disturbed his serenity. He was going to a large and lively city, and
both he and his wife would reap the advantages of that. There was
quartered there a considerable body of troops of various branches of
the service, and his intercourse would, in consequence, greatly widen,
and so would that of his wife. His income would be much larger, and
the social attractions offered in the new place,--such as diverse
entertainments, concerts, a good theatre, and the opera,--would do
much to restore that sense of contentment to his volatile spouse which
she had seemed to lack for long.
The day after his promotion had become public,--a "Liebesmahl"[17]
assembled the entire corps of officers at the Casino. Specially to
honor the departing major, the colonel had ordered full-dress uniform,
and Kahle himself, a man of tall and commanding figure, made a fine
show in all the glory of his orders, silver tassels, and broad
stripes.
[17] "Liebesmahl," a fraternal banquet arranged, on special
occasions, by the officers of a garrison or of a regiment for
the purpose of celebrating joyous events.--TR.
After the second course the colonel arose and made an impressive
speech in behalf of the departing comrade. In it he paid high tribute
to the new major's popularity and to his eminent military virtues. At
its close he handed to Kahle the usual silver tankard, bearing the
initials and insignia of the regiment.
Kahle was greatly moved by these tokens of esteem, and he thanked the
colonel in a short, manly way. In his farewell speech the joy of his
promotion was the predominant note; but there was an undertone of
sadness at parting, after so many years, from comrades and a garrison
he had known so long. Often, it is true, he had sighed for a change,
and there had been a good deal of worry and annoyance in this
world-forgotten little town close to the French frontier; but now,
when the hour of parting came, it cut him, nevertheless, to the quick
to have to leave it all behind. Such is the weakness and
inconsistency of frail human nature.
Next day he left by the noon train, and the officers were assembled at
the station in full force to bid him good-bye. Brief military
leave-taking,--just a shake of the hand and a word or two. The colonel
formally and affectionately kissed him on the cheek, and then Kahle
bade leave to his wife and their little son. His heart was heavy, and
it cost him something to conceal the tear which had stolen into a
corner of his eye. He had fully resolved to make his married life
hereafter a happier one, and to have once more a real home. It was
this thought in his mind which made parting with his wife particularly
cordial. He trusted that she would rid herself of those bad habits she
had acquired here, and that different environs would soon sweep from
her memory recollections of life in this little town, where he and she
had been forced to spend the best years of their lives, at the
frontier, _quasi_ outcasts of the empire.
Until arrangements could be made by him for new and comfortable
quarters in the garrison he was going to, Frau Kahle was to stay on
here, and First Lieutenant Weil and wife had asked her, to make things
pleasanter for her, to remain as a guest at their dwelling for the
short intervening time.
Joyfully Frau Kahle had accepted the friendly invitation. Thus she
would have occasion thoroughly to enjoy herself with Kolberg until the
hour of separation from him should strike. She felt with great relief
that with her husband away she had no longer to give an account of her
actions to anybody.
One day the Weil family were seated with their guest at table, when a
military servant brought in a letter for Frau Kahle which the carrier
had just left. She opened it, rapidly looked over its contents, and
then put it away in the pocket of her robe, her cheeks reddening.
"Frau Pastor Klein is writing me to come and take a cup of coffee with
her this afternoon, since she wants to see me once more before my
going,--amiable of her, isn't it? I think I will start at once, so as
not to be too late."
She arose, and sidled out of the room with a "Till this evening,
then!"
A few minutes later Weil saw her hastening down the street in the
direction of the town.
"Strange!" he then said to his wife. "I don't think she ever
associated with her before, and scarcely knows her. I hope this is not
one of madame's little tricks."
"Let her go where she will, Max," retorted Frau Weil, indifferently.
"It's none of our affair. She will leave in a day or two, anyway, and,
after all, she is responsible for her own actions."
But Weil shook his head doubtfully and went to his study.
The clock on the mantel indicated eight, and Frau Kahle had not yet
returned. They began to fear anxiety on the score of their guest. What
could have happened to her?
The maid was just setting the table for the evening meal in the
adjoining room when the couple were giving expression to their
surmises, explaining in one way or another this prolonged absence.
"Minna,"--Frau Weil turned to the girl,--"I think you had better go to
the house of Frau Pastor Klein and ask whether Frau Major Kahle is
still there. I shall have no rest until I know what has become of
her."
"I don't think I shall find her at the Frau Pastor's, gracious lady,"
replied the girl, "for I saw the Frau Major up on the avenue, about
half-past four, as I was fetching the milk, and the Frau Pastor lives
right behind the church."
"In that case there is no use in sending there," and Frau Weil
shrugged her shoulders.
"I think my idea will prove the right one," said the first
lieutenant,--"it was a mere pretext on her part. She did not want to
tell us where she was really going. I have my own thoughts about the
matter."
"And what do you think, Max," his wife asked, with some show of
curiosity. "Where else could she be?"
"With Kolberg, of course."
"But how can you say so, Max? I don't suppose she...."
"Certainly she will! That is just what she is doing."
Both became silent when the servant girl stepped in. She placed the
teapot on the table, and then took a folded piece of paper from her
pocket, and handed it to Weil with a peculiar smile.
"Has this perhaps been dropped by either the Herr First Lieutenant or
the gracious lady?"
And as Minna had again retired, the officer first gazed at the paper
with eyes wide open, then he gave a scornful laugh and held it open to
his wife.
"Here, my dear, will you not convince yourself? There it is in black
and white."
Frau Weil hesitatingly took the slip of paper from his hands and read:
"Am expecting you to-day at 4.30, since I shall be engaged
to-morrow in the service."
Signature and address were wanting, but the writing was unmistakably
Kolberg's.
"Here it is," said Weil. "That is her way of thanking us for offering
her our hospitality,--just lying to us, and trying to befool us for no
other purpose than to permit her to continue her disgraceful conduct.
Didn't I at once say it would be better not to have her come? But you,
of course, insisted on inviting her. If you had listened to me, we
should now be spared the disagreeable necessity of throwing that
woman out."
"But for heaven's sake, Max, that you can't do. Throw the note into
the fire!"
"I'll do nothing of the kind," her husband flared up. "I shall
certainly throw her out of the house! Or do you suppose I'm going to
make our home a convenient shelter for depraved women? Let her see
where she will find another refuge. As for me, I respectfully decline
the honor of harboring her any longer as our guest; and this note will
not go into the fire, but, instead, where it belongs,--before a
Council of Honor!"
The young officer was in a great state of excitement. With rapid
strides he measured the room, burying his hands in his pockets. His
dark look betrayed indignation and resolve.
"If you will take my advice," his soft-hearted spouse said, with some
trepidation, "you will put that bit of paper into the stove and keep
quiet about the whole matter. She is to join her husband in another
two days, anyway, and then there would be an end to her intrigues in
any case. Do me the favor, my dear Max, and leave your fingers out of
that pie, for there will be nothing but disagreeable consequences
awaiting you if you don't. And then, another thing, think of the poor
major!" And the little woman had actually tears in her eyes.
But that stubborn husband of hers proved inexorable.
"I shall do what I said I was going to do, and that's all there is
about it. These are matters you don't understand. I won't quietly look
on while this person continues her miserable intrigue with that
scoundrel, Kolberg,--at least not while she is in my house. She ought
to have had enough decency remaining to have left off meeting him
while being the guest of honest people. That is beastly; it's worse
than beastly,--hoggish, I may say!"
Frau Weil did not insist any longer. She knew her husband, knew his
strictness in such matters, and also knew that the more she would
plead with him the more fixed his purpose would become; but her
forehead became rumpled with unpleasant thoughts, and she sat down
before the glowing coal in the grate, in a brown study.
Her husband meanwhile continued to pace the carpet, reflecting on what
steps he had best decide.
At last the maid came into the room once more, and said, with a mien
of ill-concealed curiosity:
"Madam is served!"
"Tell us, Minna, where did you find that letter?" said the officer to
her.
"I found it lying in the hall under the hat-rack; I presume it must
have dropped out of somebody's pocket."
"Very well; you may go."
Silently the couple sat down to table. Weil's face was clouded, and
his wife scarcely looked up from her plate. She lifted her glance to
him, however, with considerable anxiety when the hall door was heard
to open, and Frau Kahle's voice became audible.
"She is coming, Max! Now, for pity's sake, don't make a scene! Think
of the servants who will be sure to listen and to spread everything
that's said."
But Weil did not answer, neither did he look at the door when it now
opened and gave admission to the Frau Major. Her face was rosy with
excitement, and her eyes were gleaming in humid tenderness.
"Good evening, both of you!" she cried gayly, her voice trembling with
suppressed agitation. "I hope you will pardon the delay; but Frau
Pastor Klein pressed me so much to drive with her over to the city
that I could not resist, and that is how it became so late. But it was
delightful,--my afternoon with her. We were at a café, and made a
number of purchases."
Weil arose stiffly and faced his guest.
"Madam," said he, with quiet dignity, "it is useless for you to try to
deceive us as to the purpose of your absence this afternoon. The
letter which reached you while at table with us, and which has come
into our hands by accident, proves in the most unmistakable manner
that you have abused our hospitality most grossly. May I request you
to leave this house as soon as ever you can, but certainly no later
than to-morrow morning? I must beg that you will leave us undisturbed
for the remainder of the evening."
He ceremoniously bowed, and then took his seat once more at table.
Frau Kahle remained for a moment as if petrified in the semi-obscurity
of the room. Then she hastily seized her châtelaine bag. Her hand
tremblingly fingered its contents, and then she turned to the door and
went out, slamming it behind her. The footfall of her retreating steps
could be heard in the direction of her own room.
After supper the first lieutenant stepped up to his writing-desk, lit
the green shaded lamp, and sat down on a stool before it. Next he
selected a large sheet of official note-paper, dipped his pen, and
leaned back and reflected.
For some time he thus concentrated his thoughts, and at last began to
write.
His spouse, meanwhile, with anxious aspect, sat on the sofa near a
small table, busy with some embroidery, her fingers mechanically
travelling to and fro; but every little while she cast a troubled
glance towards her husband, whose pen went scratch, scratch, over the
paper.
At last he had finished the letter. Weil reclined pensively in his
chair, and slowly read over and over what he had written. He made no
alterations, but folded Frau Kahle's note up with his own, and then
enclosed both in a large yellow envelope, sealing it in the proper
way.
Then he locked up the document in a drawer of his desk, blew out the
lamp, and took a seat on the sofa next to his wife, perusing
attentively a newspaper.
Frau Kahle departed the following morning by an early train. Nobody,
not even the orderly, knew her destination. He had taken her trunk to
the station, but she had not told him a word as to her future
intentions. And neither by letter nor by word of mouth had she left a
word of thanks or apology for her late hosts.
At noon of the same day Lieutenant Kolberg, whose mind not even the
faintest suspicion of these latest developments of his intrigue had
crossed, was ordered to appear forthwith before the commander. The
latter, dryly and without comment, informed him that proceedings had
been begun against him before the Council of Honor, and that until
further notice he would be excused from service.
There was much excitement within the body of officers. In their
secret hearts every one of them was glad that in the deadening
monotony of their garrison life this affair, painful as it was, was
now assuming tangible proportions. For not a single one of them had
any kindly feeling for Kolberg, whose secretive disposition and whose
absence from nearly all joint festivities at the Casino had rendered
him unpopular, and Frau Kahle herself was scarcely better liked,
desperate flirt as she was.
It was because of this that none of the officers, least of all
Borgert, refrained from criticising in a most uncompromising spirit
both Kolberg and his paramour. And Weil's proceedings were unanimously
adjudged perfectly correct. The remarks made in regard to this whole
matter were by no means couched in such terms as might have been
expected from his Majesty's officers of the army when applied to
comrades. In fact, hard names were used, and everybody proclaimed
aloud his intention severely to cut "the vulgar beast" and "that
coarse woman."
Colonel von Kronau had had a great fright when Captain Stark, as
president of the Council of Honor, had handed him in the morning that
document which had given Weil so much anxious thought. He ruminated
and lugubriously pondered what had best be done in this unfortunate
affair in order to end it with the least amount of scandal; but his
cogitations were in vain. The matter had been brought formally to the
attention of the Council of Honor, and, according to the strict
wording of the instructions provided, there was no squelching or
modification of the proceedings possible. He had to be satisfied,
therefore, to curse most heartily the author of the fatal
document,--First Lieutenant Weil,--and to give him in his thoughts a
big black mark in the next conduct list.
A most unwelcome business, indeed. Already he saw himself
superintending the unloading of hay-carts on that estate of his, far
off in the eastern, semi-civilized districts of the realm.
But it was poor Major Kahle who would suffer most of all. After
attaining at last the goal of his desires, all his aspirations were to
be nipped in the bud by the misdemeanor of his wife. He had no idea
where she was now; she had preferred not to venture near him in
leaving the garrison, since she did not feel sure of a cordial
reception on his part. Hence she had sent her little son to her
parents, while she herself had taken up quarters in Berlin. Her chief
amusement just now consisted in the inditing of innumerable letters to
Kolberg, full of reproaches for "having succeeded by his diabolical
arts in alienating her affections from her husband," while the leisure
she could spare from these epistolary efforts was devoted to roaming
that broad international thoroughfare, Unter den Linden, which
presented to her, after her long "exile" close to the frontier, a
striking and highly appreciated contrast.
Kahle was firmly resolved to show the door to his faithless wife if
she should dare present herself before him; meanwhile he took
preliminary steps to obtain a legal separation from her.
But there was another thought heavy on his mind. It was the
unavoidable duel. Because his wife had deceived him, the army code
forced him to next expose himself to the bullet of her seducer,
instead of simply expelling the latter from the army and giving him a
much-needed period of reflection in jail.
He was expected to "save the honor of his wife" by mortal combat.
What an absurdity! he thought to himself. Is there any honor left in a
wife who deceives her husband? A coquette she was, heartless and
honorless, nothing more, and yet he must risk his life in defence of a
thing which did not exist any longer, and which, he now strongly
suspected, had from the first been nothing but a delusion on his
part--her honor! What a ludicrous farce!
And he began to reflect whether there was not some way in which he
could escape this impending duel. Not because he was a coward or
afraid of death; no, he was brave enough, but he could not see why he
should expose to blind chance not only the fruits of his own arduous
life, but also the future of his son, merely because another man had
acted in a despicable manner. It was quite possible that his adversary
might kill him in this duel. In that case he, the innocent party,
would suffer the supreme penalty which man can suffer,--death,--and
the criminal himself would go off scot-free.
But reflection showed him clearly that there was no way to avoid
mortal combat, for, if he refused or neglected to send a challenge to
the other, the Council of Honor was bound under the code to dismiss
him from the army, because, forsooth, he did not know how to "protect
the honor of the profession." On the other hand, if he did this
prescribed duty of "honor," and fought this duel and escaped being
wounded or killed, a term of confinement in a fortress awaited him.
The latter seemed to him the lesser of two evils, but he now made up
his mind to show no consideration to the man who had destroyed the
peace of his home, and who was likely to destroy his existence. He
would demand the most severe conditions for this duel, and he would
not scruple to send a bullet crashing into his antagonist's brain if
his arm were steady enough, or else let the scoundrel deprive him of
his life as well,--a life which would hereafter be a burden to him.
The proceedings and investigations of the Council of Honor required
several months. Things were unearthed which to the younger officers of
the garrison seemed very interesting, but which threw a dubious light
upon Lieutenant Kolberg and his conceptions of honor and comradeship.
The behavior, too, of the corps of officers underwent a change during
this time.
At first all the officers had shunned Kolberg, and he was only
occasionally seen in the environs of the garrison when exercising his
horses.
But one day Borgert was in severe financial straits, and then, all his
other sources failing, he had repaired to Kolberg for the money as a
last resort. And Kolberg on his part had been shrewd enough to use the
opportunity to place Borgert under obligations, for he knew the
latter's influence on his younger comrades. Therefore, Kolberg managed
to raise the thousand marks needed, and put himself at Borgert's
disposal for future occasions of the kind.
The result of this manoeuvre could have been foreseen. Within a few
days Borgert had changed his tune in regard to Kolberg's character and
failings. At the Casino table he now sang his praises, lauded the fine
qualities of comradeship possessed by Kolberg, and condemned the view
taken by the superior officers of the lieutenant's guilt, doing all
this in his effective manner, half banter, half bonhomie; so that the
disgraced one, although not doing actual duty, became suddenly a
well-received guest at the social functions in the Casino; and not
alone that, he also assumed successfully the part of host himself, in
the much-talked-of little garden-house under the chestnut trees.
Kolberg could even go so far as to brag at his own table, while
champagne from his cellars was flowing and his guests smoked his
fragrant Havanas, of the prowess to be shown by him at the prospective
duel. He applied names like "_Dämelsack_"[18] to Kahle, of whom he
vowed to "make short work." In that way he not only silenced all his
former detractors, but actually became the lion of the garrison--a
dashing fellow, who had made the conquest of a lady's heart, while
others had to be satisfied with lesser game.
[18] "Dämelsack"--a low term of opprobrium.--TR.
He began to sing small, however, when he one day received Kahle's
challenge:
"Fifteen paces distance, visored duelling pistols, and an exchange of
bullets to the point of incapacitating one or both parties."
That he had not expected. Why, this was murder, he said, and the issue
of the forthcoming duel now became suddenly rather doubtful to him;
all the more as the major was known to be a good shot, and his
reputation as an excellent Nimrod was known beyond the confines of the
garrison.
So, then, Kolberg earnestly began to train for the meeting. Day after
day he could be seen issuing forth for a walk into the woods nearby,
for pistol practice. Scores of trees soon bore the traces of his
bullets. When the day of battle would come he meant to be prepared to
face his adversary well equipped.
Sometimes, when he sent leaden pellets, one after the other, into his
targets, the thought would occur to him that really he ought not to
hit the major, since he had sinned against him and betrayed his trust.
It was something like the last flickerings of a feeling of duty which
had dwindled for years in the slow process of moral decadence: the
last flutterings of a guilt-laden conscience and of a sense of
justice. These dim emotions, however, were drowned by a more powerful
sentiment: his newly awakened love of life, the primal feeling of
self-preservation, which seized him all the harder the more he began
to muse about the possibility of having to lose a life which offered
so much that was worth living for. An inner voice called to him: "Thou
shalt not die! Life is sweet!"
And there was only one way of carrying out his purpose,--to kill his
man.
In this way, with delays and supplementary investigation, four months
elapsed. Then at last the Council of Honor pronounced its sentence.
Kolberg was dismissed from the service; but, along with the formal
request to his Majesty to confirm the sentence, went a unanimously
signed petition for his reinstatement.
The proposed duel was likewise sanctioned, but not under the
conditions proposed by Kahle. Perhaps it was feared that a fatal
ending to the duel, such as the very stringent conditions seemed to
make almost unavoidable, would raise too much dust. For quite recently
there had been several cases of a similar nature, and the death of one
of the duellists had had the most disagreeable consequences for those
high-commanding officers who had neither attempted to modify the
conditions of combat nor endeavored to bring about reconciliation.
Thus it was that the new terms of the challenge were: thirty-five
paces distance and one exchange of bullets; ordinary pistols.
Kahle, then, was to be given no opportunity to punish as he deserved
the disturber of his domestic peace, because superior officers did not
wish to bring unpleasant consequences upon themselves; for the duel,
as now arranged for under these altered terms, he regarded as a mere
farce, and a possible fatal issue could be nothing but the work of
blind accident.
Borgert had been requested by Kolberg to serve as his second, and the
former readily agreed to this; for on the one hand he liked to play
the rôle of an onlooker in such an affair, and on the other he deemed
it prudent to put Kolberg under a new obligation; all the more as the
repaying of his loans seemed as far off as ever.
On the eve of his leaving for that city in South Germany where the
meeting was to take place, Kolberg once more assembled his faithful
admirers in his quiet little garden-house. His invitations had been
for a banquet, washed down with some of his choicest wines. The
drinking on that occasion was so hard that Kolberg himself became
completely intoxicated, and when his guests left he was snoring in a
drunken stupor on his lounge. The train left early, and Kolberg's man
had a hard task in rousing his master sufficiently at the proper time
to hastily prepare him for his long journey.
Borgert had been in a similar plight. As he stood on the station
platform a few minutes before the train rolled in, he felt as if he
had only just now risen from his chair at the festive board.
As he confided this impression to his principal, Kolberg, he did not
forget to mention incidentally that, "of course," he had forgotten to
take his purse along. With a show of assumed indifference he stuffed
the two "blue rags" into his watchpocket, Kolberg having fished the
bills with trembling fingers out of his own wallet, and a silent
pressure of the hand was the only thing Kolberg was ever to receive in
lieu thereof.
They arrived at Kahle's garrison in due time, still in a somewhat
dazed condition. Kahle's second had attended to all the preliminaries
of the duel. It was a cold morning when two cabs rolled out of the
town on their way to the garrison shooting stands, where the bloody
meeting was to take place.
The sun was just peeping over the backs of the mountains to the east,
and sent his first oblique rays down upon the hoar-frosted stubble
fields.
Peacefully Nature spread her autumnal robe, and in the forest deep
silence reigned. The only sound, now and then, was the fluttering of a
dead leaf seeking its bed of repose on the bare earth.
In the first cab sat Kolberg, Borgert, and two surgeons, while the
second was occupied by Kahle, his second, and the two members of the
Council of Honor, who were to witness the duel as impartial judges.
Beneath the rear seat lay the case of pistols. From the highroad the
vehicles turned into a side path, so narrow that the branches of the
trees standing to right and left frequently beat against the cab
panes.
They reached their destination,--an opening in the woods. It was here,
secluded from all curious and observant eyes, that the officers of the
nearby garrison went to settle their "affairs of honor." The occupants
of both vehicles descended and ordered the drivers to ride back to the
edge of the woods, and there await their return.
The case containing the pistols was placed on a slight eminence, and
the seconds took out the weapons; then these were loaded, and both
pistols underwent an examination by the seconds.
The surgeons took off their coats, spread out their instruments, and
made ready strips of bandage. Meanwhile the judges had measured the
proper distance and had firmly planted their swords at either end, to
mark the terminal points. This was accomplished with some difficulty,
as the ground was frozen hard.
The customary formal attempt to effect a reconciliation was
ineffectual, of course, and so the two principals took their stands at
the indicated points.
Kahle looked pale; he trembled with the cold, and his
nervously-twitching features betrayed intense agitation.
Kolberg, on the contrary, was almost smiling, and threw away with a
careless gesture the stub of the cigarette he had been smoking until
the last.
One of the judges explained briefly the order of combat, saying that
the shots must be fired between the words "one" and "three." A moment
later he commanded:
"Ready!"
Both men held their pistols pointed towards the ground, in order to
raise them immediately on the word "one."
Simultaneously with "two" Kahle fired, and the ball struck with a
slight noise the bark of a beech tree, a step or two to the left of
and above his adversary, while a small twig fell rattling from
overhead. Kahle's unsteady hand had given his pistol a slight upward
turn, so that he had missed his prey.
Kolberg, however, stood throughout firm and motionless, and took
steady aim, so that with "three" the trigger of his pistol fell.
Kahle looked unflinchingly at the small black mouth of the pistol
pointing at him, but at the shot he opened his eyes wide, lurched
heavily, and fell headlong.
A cold tremor ran down Kolberg's spine as he saw the tall, powerful
man pitch forward, and for a moment he remained, his smoking pistol
lifted, rooted to the spot. Then the weapon slipped from his hand.
The others, however, immediately ran towards the major, and the
surgeons tore open his coat.
There was a small hole in his chest, and the blood began to ooze from
it.
Kahle had lost consciousness for a second only. Now he lay there,
pale, and gazing steadily at the men busily engaged about him.
Kolberg also approached, holding out his hand in token of amity; but
he quickly withdrew his hand and retreated out of sight, for a cold,
repellent look from Kahle's eyes had met his. From some short distance
in the rear, out of the reach of those severe eyes, he attentively
viewed his prostrate foe; then he turned on his heels and made off
through the woods, towards the cabs.
The major's wound, however, was found to be not fatal, although the
bullet had grazed the lungs, and a long time would have to elapse
before he would be up and about once more.
One of the cabs was driven up and the major carefully lifted into it.
The two surgeons accompanied him inside, while his second occupied the
place next the driver. Thereupon they drove back at a slow gait to the
city, where the injured man was to be at once taken to the hospital.
After he had taken farewell from the two judges as the vehicle reached
the outskirts of the town, Borgert, who remained with Kolberg, slapped
the latter encouragingly on the shoulder and said:
"Don't make such a wry face, man alive! Be satisfied that you got off
with a whole skin. Of course, it was rough on the poor devil that you
happened to hit him in the chest; but that's something you are not
responsible for; after all, the challenge came from him. And now let's
have a good breakfast, for my stomach rebels against this raw air. I
am not accustomed to knock about the woods so early in the morning."
"I feel sincerely sorry that I hit the major so unluckily," replied
Kolberg; "but I didn't mean to, and the devil take the women! It's
always their doing. I don't know anyway what made me take up with that
silly Kahle woman!"
"Don't bother your head about that, my dear fellow," said Borgert.
"The major alone is to blame, for he ought to have looked out better
for that handsome wife of his. And as for her, she is not worth a
thought, as we all know. One must treat a woman as she deserves."
Borgert's specious eloquence succeeded in a short while in dispelling
the clouds from Kolberg's face, for to his callous perceptions all
that the other had said was true. That there were heartless and vulgar
sentiments contained in Borgert's words he neither understood nor
cared about.
So these worthy twain proceeded to their hotel, donned citizens'
clothes, and then repaired to a fashionable restaurant. The waiters
received them with sleepy eyes, being just engaged in putting the
place to rights; for it was still very early in the day, and they
looked at their guests with something of amazement.
The two officers started in on their round of dissipation with several
glassfuls of neat brandy, and wound up, late at night, in a resort of
doubtful repute. Whoever might have observed them throughout the day,
joking and jesting, could not have helped the conclusion that these
two had clearly forgotten the events of the morning, and that they had
recovered, together with their peace of mind, that superficial good
humor which so often distinguishes the conscienceless rascal from the
man of finer mould.
Next day, at noon, our two heroes arrived at their garrison. They were
received with open arms by a number of their comrades, for the rumor
of what had occurred had preceded them.
A group of officers, in fact, stood on the platform of the little
station as they left their train, and after much handshaking and
congratulations, all of them accompanied Kolberg to his dwelling,
there to celebrate his triumph in a "drop" of choice wine.
But there were some of the officers, especially the elder ones, who
censured Kolberg for his heartless behavior. Several of them even went
so far as to say that it would have been more fitting for him to have
remained alone just at this time, and to make amends for his past
follies by a term of undisturbed self-inspection; this new orgy they
thought, above all, indecent and coarse.
Two days afterward the confirmation of the sentence pronounced in his
case by the Council of Honor arrived from Berlin. With it came
likewise the permission for Kolberg to enter the army anew as a junior
lieutenant. That, however, meant his transference to another garrison,
for in this one there was no room for him. Before he could start his
career afresh in a beautiful city by the Rhine, Kolberg had to comply
with one other little formality, and that took him to a fortress where
he had to undergo confinement of an easy description, and lasting only
for a couple of months, because he had been guilty of "participation
in a duel with deadly weapons," as his Majesty's decree read.
The major recovered very slowly. The difficult operation undertaken by
two regimental surgeons of removing the bullet imbedded near the
spinal column had not entirely succeeded. The bullet had indeed been
removed, but inflammation of the affected parts had set in, and this
had been accompanied with great pain and a high fever.
It was only towards the close of winter that the major was dismissed
from the hospital as a convalescent. His health and his energy were
both gone, and he was compelled to resign his commission in the army,
his strength being insufficient to discharge the duties of his post.
He also had been sentenced to a three months' term in a fortress in
consonance with the invariable custom followed in such cases by the
Kaiser, which makes no distinction between offender and offended,
between victim and aggressor. But in this instance a confinement of a
few days was considered ample, and at the expiration of this brief
term the imperial pardon reached the broken-down man, and he was
permitted to depart to wherever his inclination might take him.
Kahle thus saw his life's labor destroyed. As a man who had scarcely
reached forty, yet with his physical strength nearly spent, he had to
face the question how and where he was to carve out a new field of
activity for himself. His small pension was wholly insufficient to
enable him to even eke out an existence on it, and he had, besides, by
the decree of the court, been intrusted with the sole custody of his
child. This, while it gave him at least an object in life, was for a
man in his circumstances an additional grave burden; for his little
son was still of that tender age to require a woman's constant
ministrations.
The small fortune which his divorced wife had brought into their
marriage had, of course, been handed back to her by the law.
And why had all this misfortune overtaken him?
Because the army code and social conventions had bidden him to save as
much of the "honor" of his wife as he could. To this mistaken idea he
had been sacrificed.
And Kolberg was domiciled by the vine-clad borders of the Rhine, and
in his new garrison led a life as dissipated and as free of care as he
had in his former one.