"And what is the news with them?" asked Anna.
George had put the letter down by the cup and now looked at it. "Little
Winternitz ... you know ... the fellow who once recited his poems to
me and Heinrich last winter ... is going to Berlin as reader to a
newly-founded theatre. And Gleissner, the man who stared at us once so
in the museum...."
"Oh yes, that abominable fellow with the eyeglass."
"Well, he declares that he is going to give up writing to devote
himself exclusively to sport...."
"To sport?"
"Yes, quite a sport of his own. He plays with human souls."
"What?"
"Just listen." He read:
"This buffoon is now asserting that he is simultaneously engaged in the
solution of the two following psychological problems, which supplement
each other in quite an ingenious way. The first is to bring a young and
innocent creature to the lowest depth of depravity, while the second
is to make a prostitute into a saint, as he puts it. He promises that
he will not rest until the first one finishes up in a brothel, and the
second one in a cloister."
"A nice lot," remarked Anna and got up from the table.
"How the sound carries over here," said George and followed her into
the grounds.
A dark-blue day, heavy with the sun, was resting on the tops of the
trees. They stood for a while by the low balustrade which separated
the garden from the street and looked over the lake to the mountains
looming behind silver-grey veils that fluttered in the sunlight. They
then walked deeper into the grounds, where the shade was cooler and
darker, and as they walked arm-in-arm over the softly-crunching gravel
along the high brown ivy-grown walls, and looked in at the old houses
with their narrow windows, they chatted about the news that had arrived
that day, and for the first time a slight anxiety rose up in their
minds at the thought that they would so soon have to leave the friendly
secrecy of foreign lands for home, where even the ordinary stereotyped
day seemed full of hidden dangers. They sat down beneath the plane-tree
at the white lacquered table. This place had always been kept free
for them, as though it had been reserved. The newly-arrived Austrian
gentleman, however, had sat there yesterday afternoon, but driven
away by a disapproving glance of Anna's had gone away after a polite
salutation.
George hurried up to his room and fetched a few books for Anna and
a volume of Goethe's poems and the manuscript of his quintette for
himself. They both sat there, read, worked, looked up at times, smiled
at each other, exchanged a few words, peered again into their books,
looked over the balustrade into the open, and felt peace in their
souls and summer in the air. They heard the fountain plashing quite
near them behind the bushes, while a few drops fell upon the surface
of the water. Frequently the wheels of a carriage would crunch along
on the other side of the high wall, at times faint distant whistles
would sound from the lake, and less frequently human voices would ring
into the garden from the road along the bank. The day, drunken to the
full with sunlight, lay heavy on the tree-tops. Later on the noise and
the voices increased in volume and number with the gentle wind which
was wafted from the lake every afternoon. The beat of the waves on the
shore was more audible. The cries of the boatman resounded: on the
other side of the wall there rang out the singing of young people.
Tiny drops from the fountain were sprinkled around. The breath of
approaching evening woke once more human beings, land and water.
Steps were heard on the gravel. Therese, still in white, came quickly
through the avenue. George got up, went a few steps to meet her and
shook hands. Anna wanted to get up, too, but Therese would not allow
it, embraced her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and sat down by her
side. "How beautiful it is here!" she exclaimed; "but haven't I come
too early?"
"What an idea! I'm really awfully glad," replied Anna.
Therese considered her with a scrutinising smile and took hold of both
her hands. "Well, your appearance is reassuring," she said.
"I am very well, as a matter of fact," replied Anna, "and you look as
if you were too," she joked good-humouredly.
George's eyes rested on Therese, who was again dressed in white, as she
had been in the morning, though now more smartly in English embroidered
linen, with a string of light pink corals round her bare throat.
While the two women were discussing the strange coincidence of their
meeting George got up to give the orders for dinner. When he returned
to the garden the two others were no longer there. He saw Therese
on the balcony with her back leaning against the railing, talking
with Anna, who was invisible and was presumably in the depths of the
room. He felt in good form and walked up and down the avenue, allowed
melodies to sing themselves within him, was conscious of his youth and
happiness, threw an occasional glance up to the balcony or towards
the street, beyond the balustrade, and at last saw Demeter Stanzides
arriving. He went to meet him. "Glad to see you," he cried out in
welcome from the garden gate. "The ladies are upstairs in the room but
will be turning up soon. Would you like to have a look at the grounds
in the meanwhile?"
"Delighted."
They went on walking together.
"Do you intend to stay much longer in Lugano?" asked George.
"No, we go to-morrow to Bellaggio, from there to Lake Maggiore, Isola
Bella. A really good time never lasts. We have got to be home again in
a fortnight."
"Such short leave?"
"Oh, it is not on my account, but Therese has got to go back. I am
quite a free man. I have already sent in my papers."
"So you seriously mean to retire to your estate?"
"My estate?"
"Yes, I heard something to that effect at Ehrenbergs'."
"But I haven't got the estate yet, you see. It is simply in the stage
of negotiations."
"And where are you going to buy one? if it is not a rude question."
"Where the foxes say good-night to each other. The last place you
would think of. On the Hungarian-Croatian frontier, very lonely and
remote but very remarkable. I have a certain sympathy for the district.
Youthful memories. I spent three years there as a lieutenant. Of course
I think I shall grow young again there. Well, who knows?"
"A fine property?"
"Not bad. I saw it again two months ago. I knew it of course in the old
days, it then belonged to Count Jaczewicz, finally to a manufacturer.
Then his wife died. He now feels lonely down there and wants to get rid
of it."
"I don't know," said George, "but I imagine the neighbourhood a little
melancholy."
"Melancholy! Well, it seems to me that at a certain period of one's
life every neighbourhood acquires a melancholy appearance." And he
looked round the balcony, as though to evolve from his surroundings a
new proof of the truth of his words.
"At what period?"
"Well, when one begins to get old."
George smiled. Demeter struck him as so handsome and as still young
in spite of the grey hairs on his temple. "How old are you then, Herr
Stanzides? if it isn't a rude question."
"Thirty-seven. I don't say I am old, but I am getting old. Men usually
begin to talk about getting old when they have been old for a long
time."
They sat down on the seat at the end of the garden, just where it runs
into the wall. They had a view of the hotel and of the great terrace
on the garden. The upper storeys with their verandahs were hidden from
them by the foliage of the trees. George offered Demeter a cigarette
and took one himself. And both were silent for a while.
"I heard that you, too, are leaving Vienna," said Demeter.
"Yes, that's very probable ... if of course I get a job in some opera.
Well, even if it isn't this year it is bound to be next."
Demeter sat with legs crossed over each other, gripped one of them
tightly by the knee, and nodded. "Yes, yes," he said, and blew the
smoke slowly through his lips in driblets. "It is really a fine thing
to have a talent. In that case one is bound to feel a bit different
sometimes, even about beginning to grow old. That is really the one
thing I could envy a man for."
"You have no reason to at all. Anyway, people with talent are not
really to be envied. At any rate, only people with genius. And I envy
them probably even more than you do. But I think that talents like
yours are something much more definite, something much sounder so to
speak. Of course one doesn't always happen to be in form.... But at any
rate, one always achieves something quite respectable if one can do
anything at all, while people in my line, if they are not in form are
no better than old age pensioners."
Demeter laughed. "Yes, but an artistic talent like yours lasts longer
and develops more and more as the years go on. Take Beethoven, for
instance. The Ninth Symphony is really the finest thing he did. Don't
you think so. And what about the second part of _Faust_?... While we
are bound to go back as the years go on--we can't help it--even the
Beethovens amongst us. And how early it begins, apart from quite rare
exceptions! I was at my prime for instance at twenty-five. I've never
done again what I had in me at twenty-five. Yes, my dear Baron, those
were times."
"Come, I remember seeing you win a race two years ago against Buzgo,
who was the favourite then.... Why, I even betted on him...."
"My dear Baron," interrupted Stanzides, "you take it from me, I know
the reason why I left off improving. One can feel a thing like that
oneself. And that's why no one knows so well as the sportsman when
he's beginning to grow old. And then no further training is any good.
The whole thing then becomes purely artificial. And if any one tells
you that that's not the case, then he's simply ... but here come the
ladies."
They both got up. Therese and Anna were approaching arm-in-arm, one all
in white, the other in a black dress, which falling to the ground in
wide folds completely hid her figure. The couples met by the fountain.
Demeter kissed Anna's hand. "What a beautiful spot I have the good
fortune to see you again in, my dear lady."
"It is a pleasant surprise to me, too," replied Anna, "quite apart from
the scenery."
"Do you know," said George to Anna, "that these good people are
travelling off again to-morrow?"
"Yes, Therese has told me."
"We want to see as much as possible," explained Demeter, "and so far
as my recollection goes the other lakes in upper Italy are even more
magnificent than the one here."
"I don't know anything about the others," said Anna. "We haven't done
them yet."
"Well, perhaps you will take the opportunity," said Demeter, "and make
up a party with us for a little tour: Bellaggio, Pallanza, Isola Bella."
Anna shook her head. "It would be very nice but unfortunately I can't
get about enough. Yes, I am incredibly lazy. There are whole days when
I never go out of the grounds. But if George fancies running away from
me for a day or two, I don't mind at all."
"I have no intention at all of running away from you," said George. He
threw a quick glance at Therese, whose eyes were sparkling and laughing.
They all strolled slowly through the garden while it gradually became
dusk, and chatted about the places they had recently seen. When they
came back to the table under the plane-tree it was laid for dinner and
the fairy-lights were burning in the glass holders. The waiter was just
bringing the Asti in a bucket. Anna sat down on the seat, which had
the trunk of the plane-tree for its back. Therese sat opposite her and
George and Demeter on either side.
The meal was served and the wine poured out. George inquired after
their Viennese acquaintances. Demeter told them that Willy Eissler had
brought back from his trip some brilliant caricatures both of hunters
and of beasts. Old Ehrenberg had bought the pictures.
"Do you know about the Oskar affair yet?" said George.
"What affair?"
"Oh, the affair with his father in front of St. Michael's Church." He
remembered that he had thought of telling Demeter the story some time
back before the ladies had appeared, but that he had thought it right
to suppress it. It was the wine, no doubt, which now loosened his
tongue against his will. He told them briefly what Heinrich had written
him.
"But this is an extremely sad business," said Demeter, very much moved,
and all the others immediately felt more serious.
"Why is it a sad business?" asked Therese. "I think it is enough to
make one laugh till one cried."
"My dear Therese, you don't consider the consequences it may have for
the young man."
"Good gracious, I know well enough. It will make him impossible in a
certain set, but that won't do more than make him realise what a silly
ass he has been up to the present."
"Well," said George, "if Oskar really is one of those people who can be
made to realise anything.... But I really don't think so."
"Apart from the fact, my dear Therese," added Demeter, "that what you
call realising doesn't necessarily mean seeing things in their proper
light. All sets of people have their prejudices. Even you are not free
from them."
"And what prejudices have we got, I should like to know?" cried
Therese, and emptied her glass of wine angrily. "We only want to clear
away certain prejudices, particularly the prejudice that there is this
privileged caste who regard it as a special honour...."
"Excuse, me, Therese dear, but you are not at a meeting now, and I am
afraid that the applause at the conclusion of your speech will turn
out much fainter than you are accustomed to."
"Look here," Therese turned to Anna, "this is how a cavalry officer
argues."
"I beg your pardon," said George, "the whole business has scarcely
anything at all to do with prejudices. A box on the ears in the public
street, even though it is from one's own father.... I don't think one
has got to be an officer in the reserve or a student."
"That box on the ears," cried Therese, "gives me a real sense of
relief. It represents the well-merited conclusion of a ridiculous and
superfluous existence."
"Conclusion! We hope it's not that," said Demeter.
"My letter says," replied George, "that Oskar has travelled off, no one
knows where."
"If I am sorry for any one in the business," said Therese, "it is
certainly for the old man, who, good-hearted fellow that he is, is
probably regretting this very day the unpleasant position in which he
has placed his beastly snob of a son."
"Good-hearted!" exclaimed Demeter. "A millionaire! A factory owner!...
My dear Therese...!"
"Yes, it does happen sometimes. He happens to be one of those people
who are at one with us at the bottom of their soul. You remember the
evening, Demeter, when you had the pleasure of seeing me for the first
time. Do you know why I was at Ehrenbergs' then?... And do you know the
object for which he gave me straight away a thousand gulden...? To...."
She bit her lips. "I mustn't say, that was the condition."
Suddenly Demeter got up and bowed to somebody who had just passed. It
was the Austrian gentleman who had arrived yesterday. He lifted his hat
and vanished in the darkness of the garden.
"Do you know that man?" asked George, after a few seconds. "I also seem
to know him, but who is it?"
"The Prince of Guastalla," said Demeter.
"Really!" exclaimed Therese involuntarily, and her eyes pierced into
the darkness.
"What are you looking at him for?" said Demeter. "He is just a man like
any one else."
"He is supposed to be banished from Court," said George, "isn't he?"
"I know nothing about that," replied Demeter, "but he is certainly
not a favourite there. He recently published a pamphlet about certain
conditions in our army, particularly the life of the officers in the
provinces. It went very much against him, although as a matter of fact
there is nothing really bad in it."
"He should have applied to me about that," said Therese. "I could have
given him a tip or two."
"My dear child," said Demeter deprecatingly, "what you are probably
referring to again is simply an exceptional case. You shouldn't jump at
once into generalities."
"I am not generalising, but a case like that is sufficient to damn the
whole...."
"Don't make a speech, Therese...."
"I am speaking about Leo." Therese turned to George. "It is really
awful what he has been going through this year."
George suddenly remembered that Therese was Leo's sister, as though it
were a most remarkable thing which he had completely forgotten. Did he
know that she was here and whom she was with?
Demeter bit his lips somewhat nervously.
"There is an Anti-Semitic First-Lieutenant, you know," said Therese,
"who rags him in a particularly mean way because he knows how Leo
despises him."
George nodded. He knew all about it.
"My dear child," said Demeter, "I can't make it out, as I have already
told you several times. I happen to know First-Lieutenant Sefranek, and
I assure you it is possible to get on with him. He is not particularly
clever, and it may be quite right to say that he has got no particular
liking for the Israelites, but after all one must admit that there are
a lot of so-called opprobrious Anti-Semitic expressions which really
have no significance at all, and which, so far as my experience goes,
are used by Jews quite as much as by Christians. And your worthy
brother certainly suffers from a morbid sensitiveness."
"Sensitiveness is never morbid," retorted Therese. "It is only lack
of sensitiveness which is a disease, and the most loathsome one I
know as a matter of fact. It is notorious that I am as far apart as
possible from my brother in my political views. You know that best
of all, George. I hate Jewish bankers quite as much as feudal landed
proprietors, and orthodox Rabbis quite as much as Catholic priests;
but if a man feels himself superior to me because he belongs to
another creed or another race than I do, and being conscious of his
greater power makes me feel that superiority, I would.... Well, I
don't know what I would do to a man like that. But anyway I should
quite understand Leo if he were to take the next opportunity of going
tooth-and-nail for Herr Sefranek."
"My dear child," said Demeter, "if you have the slightest influence
with your brother you should try and stop this tooth-and-nail business
at any price. In my view by far the best thing to do in a case like
that is to go about things in the respectable, I mean the regulation
way. It is really not at all true that that never does any good. The
superior officers are mostly quiet people, at any rate they are correct
and...."
"But Leo did that long ago ... as far back as February. He went to
the Major, the Major was very nice to him, and as appears from many
indications gave the First-Lieutenant a good talking to; the only thing
is it unfortunately wasn't the slightest use. On the contrary, the next
chance he had the First-Lieutenant made a special point of starting
his beastly tricks again, and he is continuing them with the most
refined malice. I assure you, Baron, I am afraid every single day that
some misfortune will happen."
Demeter shook his head. "We live in a mad age. I assure you"--he turned
to George--"First-Lieutenant Sefranek is no more of an Anti-Semite than
you or I. He visits at Jewish houses. I even know that he was extremely
intimate for years with a Jewish regimental doctor. It really seems as
though everybody were going mad."
"You may be right in that," said Therese.
"Oh, well, Leo is so reasonable," said George. "He is so sensible in
spite of all his temperament that I am convinced that he won't let
himself be swept away by any foolish impulse. After all he must know
that it will all be over in a few months; one can manage to put up with
it for that time."
"Do you know, by-the-by, Baron," said Therese, while following the
example of the men she took a cigarette out of a box which the waiter
had brought, "do you know that Leo was quite charmed with your
compositions?"
"What, charmed?" said George, while he gave Therese a light. "I really
hadn't noticed it at all."
"Well, he liked some things," qualified Therese, "and that's
practically the same as somebody else being delighted with them."
"Have you composed anything on your trip?" asked Demeter courteously.
"Only a few songs."
"I suppose we shall hear them in the autumn?" said Demeter.
"Good gracious, don't let's talk about the autumn," said Therese. "We
may be dead or in prison before then."
"Well, if one really wants to one can manage to avoid the latter
alternative," exclaimed Demeter.
Therese shrugged her shoulders. George was sitting near her and
believed he could feel the warmth of her body. Lights were shining from
the hotel windows and a long reddish strip reached the table at which
the two couples were sitting.
"I suggest," said George, "that we make the best of the fine evening
and go for another walk along the shore."
"Or take a boat," exclaimed Therese.
They all agreed. George ran up to the room to fetch wraps. When he came
down again he found the others standing by the door of the grounds
ready to start. He helped Anna into her light-grey cloak, hung his
own long overcoat over Therese's shoulders and kept a dark-green rug
over his arm. They went slowly through the avenue to the place where
the boats were moored. Two boatmen took the party with quick strokes
of their oars out of the darkness of the shore into the black shining
water. The mountains towered up to the sky, monstrous and gigantic.
The stars were not very numerous. Tiny bluish-grey clouds hung in the
air. The rowers sat on two cross benches; in the middle of the boat
on narrow seats the two couples sat opposite each other: George and
Anna, Demeter and Therese. All were quite silent at first, it was only
after some minutes that George broke the silence. He told them the name
of the mountain which separated the lake from the South, drew their
attention to a village, which though it seemed infinitely far away as
it nestled up to the slope of a cliff could nevertheless be reached
in a quarter of an hour; he recognised the white shining house on the
height above Lugano as the hotel in which Demeter and Therese were
staying and told them about a walk far into the country between sunny
vineyards which he had taken the other day.
While he spoke Anna kept hold of his hand underneath the rug. Demeter
and Therese sat next to each other staidly and correctly, and not at
all like lovers who had only found each other a short time ago. It was
only now that George gradually recovered his fancy for Therese, which
had almost vanished during her loud violent speechifying.
How long will this Demeter affair last? he thought. Will it be over
when the autumn comes or will it after all last as long or longer than
my affair with Anna? Will this row on the dark lake be some time in
the future just a memory of something that has completely vanished,
just like my row on the Veldeser Lake with that peasant girl, which
now comes into my mind again for the first time for years?... Or like
my voyage with Grace across the sea? How strange! Anna is holding my
hand, I am pressing it, and who knows if she isn't feeling at this very
minute something similar with regard to Demeter to what I am feeling
about Therese? No, I am sure not.... She carries a child under her
heart which has already quickened.... That's why.... Hang it all!...
Why, it's my child as well.... Our child is now going for a row on
the lake of Lugano.... Shall I tell it one day that it went for a row
round the lake of Lugano before it was born? How will it all turn out?
We shall be back in Vienna again in a few days. Does Vienna really
exist? It will only slowly begin to come into existence again as we
train back.... Yes, that's how it is.... As soon as I'm home work will
start seriously. I shall remain quietly at my home in Vienna and just
visit Anna from time to time; I won't live with her in the country....
Or at all events only just before ... and the autumn.... Shall I be
in Detmold? And where will Anna be? And the child?... With strangers
somewhere in the country. How improbable the whole thing seems!... But
it was also very improbable a year ago to-day that I and Stanzides
should go for a row on the lake of Lugano with Fräulein Anna Rosner
and Fräulein Therese Golowski respectively. And now the whole thing
couldn't be more of a matter of course.... He suddenly heard with
abnormal clearness, as though he had just woken up, Demeter's voice
quite near him.
"When does our boat leave to-morrow?"
"Nine o'clock in the morning," replied Therese.
"She maps out the plan of campaign you know," said Demeter. "I don't
need to bother about anything."
The moon suddenly shone out over the lake.
It seemed as though it had waited behind the mountains and were now
coming out to say goodbye. That infinitely distant village by the
mountain-slope suddenly lay quite close in all its whiteness. The boat
beached. Therese got up. She was shrouded in the night and looked
strikingly tall. George sprang out of the boat and helped her to
disembark. He felt her cool fingers, which did not tremble, in his
hand, but moved softly as though on purpose, and caught the breath from
her lips quite close. Demeter got out after her, then came Anna, tired
and awkward. The boatman thanked them for their generous tip and both
couples started to walk homewards. The Prince was sitting on a seat in
a long dark cloak in the avenue along the bank. He was smoking a cigar,
seemed to be looking out on to the nocturnal lake and turned away his
head with the obvious intention of avoiding being saluted.
"A man like that could tell a tale," said Therese to George, with whom
she had fallen further and further behind, while Demeter and Anna went
on in front of them.
"So you are going back to Vienna as soon as all that?" asked George.
"A fortnight. Do you think that so soon? At any rate you will be home
before us, won't you?"
"Yes, we shall leave in a few days. We can't put it off any longer.
Besides, we shall have to break the journey a few times. Anna doesn't
stand travelling well."
"Do you know yet that I found the villa for Anna just before I left?"
said Therese.
"Really, you? Did you go looking, too?"
"Yes, I went into the country a few times with my mother. It is a small
fairly old house in Salmansdorf with a beautiful garden, which leads
straight out to the fields and forest, and the bit of ground in front
of the house is quite overgrown.... Anna will tell you more about it. I
believe it is the last house in the place. Then there comes an inn, but
a fair distance away from it."
"I must have overlooked that house on my house-hunting expeditions in
the spring."
"Clearly, or you would have taken it. There is a little clay figure
standing on a lawn near the garden hedge."
"Can't remember. But do you know, Therese, it is really nice of you to
have taken all this trouble for us, as well as your mother. More than
nice." He thought of adding "when one takes your strenuous life into
consideration," but suppressed it.
"Why are you surprised?" asked Therese. "I am very fond of Anna."
"Do you know what I once heard some one say about you?" replied George
after a short pause.
"Well, what?"
"That you would either finish up on the scaffold or as a princess."
"That's a phrase of Doctor Berthold Stauber. He once told it me
himself, you know. He is very proud of it, but it is sheer nonsense."
"The betting at present is certainly more on the princess."
"Who says so? The princess dream will soon be over!"
"Dream?"
"Yes, I am just beginning to wake up. It is rather like the morning air
streaming into a bedroom."
"And then I suppose the other dream will begin?"
"What do you mean, the other dream?"
"This is what I take to be the case with you. When you are in the
public eye again, making speeches, sacrificing yourself for some cause
or other, then at some moment or other the whole thing strikes you like
a dream, doesn't it? And you think real life is somewhere else."
"There is really something in what you say."
At this moment Demeter and Anna, who were standing by the garden gate,
turned round towards them both and immediately took the broad avenue
towards the entrance of the hotel. George and Therese also went on
further, unseen outside the railing, into the darkest depths of the
shade.
George suddenly seized hold of his companion's hand. As though
astonished she turned towards him and both now stood opposite each
other, enveloped by the darkness and closer than they could understand.
They did not know how ... they scarcely meant to, but their lips rested
on each other for a short moment that was more charged with the doleful
joy of deception than with any other emotion. They then went on,
silent, unsatisfied, desirous, and stepped through the garden door.
The two others, who were in front of the hotel, now turned round and
came to meet them.