A GARRISON TOWN.
As was formerly remarked at the sale of the effects of Mademoiselle
Pauline C----, "Very little body-linen and very many diamonds," so it
may be said of the population of X----: very few inhabitants, but very
many hussars.
The town consists of a barracks and a Casino; the post-office, church,
and school-house, as well as all the big and little houses, new and
tasteless, or old and ruinous, are merely a secondary affair.
The ugly square barracks, painted red, is situated upon what is called
"The Ring," a spacious, uneven square, unpaved but trodden hard, and,
besides, covered with dust, straw, remains of bundles of hay, and all
kinds of dirt pertaining to a stable.
Opposite the barracks is the Casino, also called "_Hostinee u byle
ruze_," or "The White Rose Inn." The barracks stands alone, haughtily
exclusive. Adjoining the Casino and the post-office, however, are
various ugly or half-ruinous structures, and opposite the post-office
there is a line of unedifying building, describing a spacious
circle,--low huts, two-storied houses, houses with mansard roofs,
houses painted yellow, light green, or light pink, with a saint in a
blue niche over the front door, and houses with creaking weathercocks
on the roof, all half ruinous, but clinging affectionately to one
another, like drunken recruits bent upon mutual support.
It is noon. From the open windows of the most pretentious of these
houses come the notes of a waltz, with a loud sound of shuffling and
scraping, alternating with screaming and laughter. The story goes that
the wife of the steward of the Casino, Frau Albina Schwanzara, former
_prima ballerina_ at Troppau, is teaching the cancan behind those same
windows to one of the celebrities of the little town, the wife of a
wealthy tallow-chandler, and that the lady in question, for the
entertainment of the corps of officers now stationed at X----, is to
dance the aforesaid beautiful dance at the next "sociable," dressed as
a chimney-sweeper. "Fast at any price!" is the device of the celebrity.
The lively music is the only animate circumstance in "The Ring;" the
sultry August heat has stricken dead everything else. The kellner at
the door of the Casino, the sentinel at the gate of the barracks, are
nodding where they stand. In a corner of the square is the wagon of a
troupe of strolling players,--a green-painted house on wheels,--to
which is harnessed a one-eyed steed with very long legs and a tail like
a rat's. The prima donna of the troupe, a slovenly woman in shabby
dancing-slippers, is squatting on a bundle of hay, flirting with a
cavalry sergeant. A lank youth with long, straight, fair hair is
thrashing with his suspenders a pig tied at the back of the wagon,
while he holds up his trousers over his stomach with his left hand.
Several other children of Thespis lie stretched out snoring, among
various drums and ropes, in the dust.
All the people who happen to be in the square stare at them.
The universal interest is shortly diverted, however, by the arrival of
two equipages and a luggage-wagon, all three driving down a side street
to rein up before the post-office. In the first of the two vehicles, a
large convenient landau, two ladies are seated with a young man
opposite them. The second carriage is occupied by a valet and two
maids.
They have come from the nearest railway-station, and have merely
stopped at the post-office for any letters and papers that may be
awaiting them. While the servant is procuring these within the
building, the young man alights from the landau and enters into
conversation with the postmaster, eagerly inquiring what regiment is at
present in garrison at X----.
The curiosity of an increasing public becomes almost morbid. All crowd
around the post-office. The young actress has lost her admirer,--the
sergeant has rushed up to the young man.
"Oh, Herr Lieutenant!" he calls out, eagerly; then, ashamed of his
want of due respect, he straightens himself to the correct attitude
and salutes with his hand at his cap. Two officers, each with a
billiard-cue in his hand, come hastily out of the Casino, followed by a
third,--Harry Leskjewitsch. The stranger receives the first two with
due courtesy; Harry he scans eagerly.
"You here, Harry!" he exclaims, going up to him with outstretched
hands.
The lady on the right in the landau lowers the red Bilk parasol with
which she has hitherto shielded her face from public curiosity, and
takes out her eye-glass; the other leans forward a little. Both ladies
are in faultless travelling-dress. The one on the right is a beauty in
her way, fair, with a good colour, a full figure, and regular features,
although they may be a trifle sharp. Her companion is beautiful, too,
but after an entirely different style,--a decided brunette, with a pale
face and large eyes which, once gazed into, hold the gazer fast, as by
the attraction one feels to solve a riddle.
"Treurenberg!" Harry exclaims, grasping the stranger's hands in both
his own.
"I thought you were in Vienna," Treurenberg replies. "I cannot tell you
how glad I am to see you! When did we meet last?"
"At your marriage," says Harry.
"True! It seems an eternity since then." Treurenberg sighs. "Only
fancy, I had to shoot my 'Old Tom' last winter!"
At this moment a little cavalcade passes across the square to reach the
barracks,--an Amazon in a tight, very short riding-dress, followed and
accompanied by several gentlemen.
Treurenberg's attention is attracted by the horse-woman, who, although
much powdered, rather faded, and with a feverish glow in her large,
dark eyes, shows traces of very great beauty.
"Is not that Lori Trauenstein?" Lato asks his new-found friend.
"Yes,--now Countess Wodin, wife of the colonel of the regiment of
hussars in garrison here."
"An old flame of mine," Lato murmurs. "Strange! I scarcely recognized
her. This is the first time I have seen her since----" he laughs
lightly--"since she gave me my walking-ticket! Is Wodin the same as
ever?"
"How could he be anything else!"
"And is she very fast?"
"Very," Harry assents.
The ladies in the landau have both stretched their necks to look after
the Amazon. But while the face of the blonde expresses merely critical
curiosity, in her companion's dark eyes there is sad, even horrified,
surprise.
The Amazon and her train disappear beneath the arched gate-way of the
barracks.
"Lato!" the portly blonde calls to Treurenberg from the landau.
He does not hear her.
"Do you remember my 'Old Tom'?" he asks his friend, returning to his
favourite theme.
"I should think so. A chestnut,--a magnificent creature!"
"Magnificent! A friend,--an actual friend. That fat Rhoden--a cousin of
my wife's--broke his leg in riding him at a hunt. But, to speak of
something pleasanter, how are they all at Komaritz? Your cousin must be
very pretty by this time?" And Treurenberg looks askance at his friend.
"Very," Harry replies, and his manner suddenly grows cold and
constrained. "But allow me to speak to your wife," he adds. "By the
way, who is the young lady beside her?"
"H'm! a relative,--a cousin of my wife's."
"Present me, I pray," says Harry.
He then pays his respects to the Countess Treurenberg and to her
companion, whose name he now learns is Olga Dangeri.
The Countess offers him her finger-tips with a gracious smile. Olga
Dangeri, nodding slightly, raises her dark, mysterious eyes, looks him
full in the face for a moment, and then turns away indifferent. The
servant comes out of the post-office with a great bundle of letters,
which the Countess receives from him, and with two or three packages,
which he hands over to the maids.
"What are you waiting for, Lato? Get in," the Countess says.
"Drive on. I shall stay here with Leskjewitsch for a while,"
Treurenberg replies.
"Mamma is waiting breakfast for us."
"I shall breakfast in the Casino. My respects to your mother."
"As you please." The young Countess bows to Harry stiffly, with a
discontented air, the horses start, a cloud of dust rises, and the
landau rolls away. With his eyes half closed, Harry looks after the
heavy brown carriage-horses.
"Lato, that off horse is spavined."
"For heaven's sake don't notice it! My mother-in-law bought the pair
privately to surprise me. She paid five thousand guilders for them."
"H'm! Who persuaded her to buy them?"
"Pistasch Kamenz. I do not grudge him his bargain," murmurs Lato,
adding, with a shake of the head, "'Tis odd, dogs and horses are the
only things in which we have the advantage over the financiers."
With which he takes his friend's arm and crosses the square to the
Casino.