Unter den Linden
A tall girl with red hair and a fair skin, carrying a roll of music, was
walking alone down the principal street in Berlin. She did not look like
a foreigner and yet she must have been familiar with the sights of the
city. For although the famous thoroughfare was crowded with people, some
of them on foot, the greater number in carriages and automobiles, she
paid them only a casual attention and finally found herself a seat on a
bench under a tall linden tree near the monument of Frederick the Great.
Here she sighed, allowing the discouragement which she had been trying
to overcome for some little time to show in every line of her face and
figure.
She was not handsome enough to attract attention for that reason, and
she had too much personal dignity to suffer it under any circumstances.
So now she seemed as much alone as if she had been in her own sitting
room.
Only once was she startled out of the absorption of her own thoughts.
And then there was a sudden noise near the palace of the Emperor;
carriages and motor cars paused, crowding closer to the sidewalks;
soldiers stood at attention, civilians lifted their hats. And a moment
afterwards an automobile dashed past with a man on the back seat in a
close fitting, military suit, with a light cape thrown back over one
shoulder, his head slightly bowed and his arms folded across his chest.
He had an iron-gray mustache, waxed until the ends stood out fiercely,
dark, haughty eyes, and an intensely nervous manner. And on the doors of
his swiftly moving car were the Imperial Arms of Germany.
The girl felt a curious little thrill of admiration and antagonism. For
although she had seen him more than a dozen times before, the Kaiser
Wilhelm could hardly pass so near to one without making an impression.
And although the American girl was not in sympathy with many of his
views, she could not escape the interest which his personality has
excited throughout the civilized world.
But a moment after the street grew quiet once more and she returned to
her own reflections.
In spite of her pallor she did not seem in the least unhealthy, only
tired and down-hearted. For her eyes, though light in color, were clear
and bright, and the lips of her large, firmly modeled mouth bright red.
She wore a handsome and becoming gray cloth dress and a soft white
blouse, her gray hat having a white feather stuck through a band of
folded silk. The coolness and simplicity of her toilet was refreshing in
the warmth of the late June day and a pleasant contrast to the brighter
colors affected by the German Frauen and Fraeulein.
Finally the girl opened her roll of music and taking out a sheet began
slowly reading it over to herself. Then her dejection appeared to
deepen, for eventually the tears rolled down her cheeks. She continued
holding up her music in order to shield herself from observation. Even
when she was disturbed by hearing some one sit down beside her on the
bench, she did not dare turn her head.
But the figure deliberately moved closer and before she could protest
had actually taken the sheet of paper out of her hands.
"Esther, my dear, what is the matter with you? Have you no home and no
friends, that you have to shed your tears in the public streets?" a
slightly amused though sympathetic voice demanded.
Naturally Esther started. But the next instant she was shaking her head
reproachfully. "Dr. Ashton, however in the world did you manage to
discover me?" she demanded. "I am resting here for the special pleasure
of being miserable all by myself. For I knew if I went back to the
pension Betty and your mother would find me out. And the worst of it is
that neither one of them understands in the least why I am unhappy.
Betty is really angry and I am afraid that Mrs. Ashton thinks I am
stupid and ungrateful."
Instead of replying, Richard Ashton picked up Esther's hand and slipped
it through his own arm. He looked a good deal older than his companion.
For he was now a graduated physician with three years of added foreign
experience, and besides his natural seriousness he wore the reserved,
thoughtful air peculiar to his profession. So his present attitude
toward Esther Crippen seemed that of an older friend.
"I don't know what you are talking about or what dark secret you seem to
be trying to conceal," he returned. "All that I do know is that I have
been sent out to find you and that you are please to come home with me.
Betty and mother have been expecting you to return from your music
lesson for an hour. And Betty is so in the habit of getting herself lost
or of mixing up in some adventure where she does not belong, that she is
convinced a like fate has overtaken you. Then I believe that something
or other has happened which she has not confided to me, but which she is
dying to tell you. There are times, Esther, when I wish that our sister,
Betty, was not quite so pretty. I am always afraid that some day or
other these German students, whom she seems to have for her friends,
will be involved in a duel over her. And if that happens I shall very
promptly send her home."
Dick and Esther had now left the broad, park-like square and had turned
into a narrower side street adjoining it. Ordinarily any such suggestion
concerning Betty would have aroused Esther's immediate interest and
protest. However, whatever was now on her mind was troubling her too
much for her to pay any real attention to what Dick had just said. So
they walked on for another block in silence, until finally Esther spoke
in her old timid, hesitating manner, quite unconsciously locking her
hands together, as she had on that day, long ago, of her first meeting
with Richard Ashton.
"I am sorry to be so stupid and unentertaining. It was good of you to
come and look for me," she began apologetically. "I wish I could stop
thinking of what troubles me, but somehow I can't. For Betty will insist
on my doing a thing that I simply know I shall not be able to do. And I
do hate having to argue."
They were still some distance from the German pension where Dick, his
mother and sister and Esther were boarding, so the young man did not
make haste to continue their conversation, as he and Esther knew each
other too intimately to consider silences.
"Look here, Esther," Richard Ashton finally began, "you know that Betty
considers me the worst old gray-beard and lecturer on earth. So I am
going to be true to my reputation and lecture you. Why do you allow
yourself to be so much influenced by Betty? Don't you realize every now
and then that you are the older and that the Princess ought to come
around to your way of thinking? Why don't you tell her this time that
_you_ are right and she is wrong and that you won't hear anything more
on the subject that is worrying you."
Esther laughed, swerving suddenly to get a swift view of the earnest
face of her companion. How often he had befriended her, ever since those
first days of shy misery and rapture when she had made her original
appearance in the Ashton home, little realizing then that the Betty
whom she already adored was her own sister.
"I am not really afraid of the Princess, you know, Mr. Dick," she
replied, laughing and using an odd, old-fashioned title that she had
once given him. "The truth is that if you were able to guess what I have
on my mind you might also disagree with me. Because in this particular
instance there is a possibility that Betty may be right in her judgment
and I in the wrong."
They had walked by this time a little distance beyond the crowded
portion of the big city. Now the houses were private residences and
boarding places. Finally they stopped before a tall yellow building,
five stories in height, with red and yellow flowers growing in a narrow
strip along its front. Before an open window on the third floor a girl
could be seen sitting with a book in her lap. But she must have become
at once aware of the presence of the young man and his companion,
because the instant that Dr. Ashton's hand touched the door knob, she
disappeared.