about _my own_ affairs, although they are far more important. Last
Wednesday the Society for the Preservation of Natural Beauties had
arranged a great excursion to Inner-Lahn in breaks. Dora did not want
to go at first, but Father said that if it would give _us_ pleasure,
he would very much like to go with us, and Mother would be only too
delighted to see that we were enjoying something once more. And two days
before the excursion Dora finally decided that she would like to go;
I knew why at once; she thought that by that time all the places would
have been taken, and that we should have been told: Very sorry, no more
room. But luckily she had made a _great_ mistake. For the secretary
said: With pleasure; how many places shall I reserve? and so we said:
7; namely, Father, Dora, and I, Aunt Alma (unfortunately), Marina (very
unfortunately), and the two boys (no less unfortunately). “That will
need an extra conveyance,” replied the secretary, and we thought we
should make a family party. But it was not so: Next Dora sat a gentleman
whom I had seen once or twice before, and he paid her a tremendous
amount of attention. Besides that there were 2 strange gentlemen,
Frau Bang and her 2 daughters and her son, who is not quite all there;
opposite was Hero Siegfried, a young lady who is I believe going on the
stage, the two Weiner girls and their Mother (notwithstanding!!!), then
I, and afterwards Marina, Father, Aunt Alma, and the two boys opposite.
I don’t know who made up the other break-loads. At 6 in the morning we
all met outside the school, for the schoolmaster acted as our guide.
I did not know before that he has two daughters and a son who has
matriculated this year. First of all they held a great review, and the
gentlemen fortified themselves with a nip and so did some of the ladies;
I did not, for I hate the way in which a liqueur burns one’s throat so
that every one, at any rate girls and ladies, make such faces when they
are drinking, that is why I never drink liqueur. I did not care much
about the drive out, for it was very cold and windy, most of us had red
noses and blue lips; I kept on biting my lips to keep them red, for one
looks simply hideous when one’s lips are white or blue, I noticed
that in Dora when we were skating last winter. Father went only on our
account, and Aunt Dora stayed at home so that Aunt Alma could go. Marina
wears “snails” now, the sight of her is enough to give one fits. Dora
gets on with her quite well, which is more than I can say for myself.
Only when we got out aid I notice that Siegfried’s sister, Fraulein
Hulda, had been sitting next the aspiring actress. She is awfully nice,
and many, many years ago she must have been very pretty; she has such
soft brown eyes, and her hair is the same colour as her brother’s; but
he has glorious blue eyes, which get quite black when he is angry, as he
was when he was talking about his father. I should tremble before him
in his wrath. He is so tall that I only come up to his shoulder. Father
calls him the red tapeworm; but that’s really not fair. He is very broad
but so thin. In Unter-Toifen we stopped for breakfast, eating the
food we had brought with us; about half an hour; then the schoolmaster
hurried us all away, for we had quite 10 miles to walk. The two boys
made a party with other boys, and we five girls, we 2, the 2 Weiners,
and Marina, led the way. Aunt Alma walked with a clergyman’s wife from
Hildesheim, or whatever it was called, and with the schoolmaster’s wife.
It was _awfully_ dull at first, so that I began to be sorry that I
had begged Father to let us go. But after we had gone a few miles the
schoolmaster’s son and three bright young fellows came along and walked
with us. Then we had such fun that we could hardly walk for laughing,
and the elders had continually to drive us on. Marina was quite
unrestrained, I could never have believed that she could be so jolly.
One of the schoolmaster’s daughters fell down, and some one pulled her
out of the brook into which she had slid because she was laughing so
much. I really don’t know what time we got to Inner-Lahn, for we were
enjoying ourselves so much. Dinner had been ordered ready for us, and we
were all frantically hungry. We laughed without stopping, for we had all
sat down just as we had come in, although Aunt Alma did not want us to
at first. But she was outvoted. I was _especially pleased_ to show Hero
Siegfried that I could amuse myself very well without him, for he had
frozen on to the aspiring actress, or she had frozen on to him--I don’t
know which, or at least I did not know _then!_ Since we were sitting all
mixed up everyone had to pay for himself, and Father said next day we
had spent a perfect fortune; but that was not in the hotel, it happened
later, when we were buying mementoes. And I think Dora gave Marina 3
crowns, so that she could buy some things too. But Dora never lets on
about anything of that sort. I must say I like her character better and
better; in those ways she is very like Mother. Well, our purchases were
all packed into two or three rucksacks, and were kept for a raffle in
Unter-Toifen on the way back. I must have spent at least 7 crowns, for
Father had given each of us 5 crowns before we started, and I still had
a lot of my August pocket money left, and now I’ve got only 40 hellers.
After we had had dinner and bought the things we lay about in the forest
or walked about in couples. I had curled myself up for a nap when some
one came up behind me, and when I sat up this _someone_ put his hands
over my eyes and said: “The Mountain Spirit.” And I recognised _his_
hands _instantly_, and said: “Hero Siegfried!” Then he laughed like
anything and sat down beside me and said: “You were enjoying yourself
so much this morning that you had not even a glance to spare for me.”
“Contrariwise (I’ve got that from Dora), I never foist myself on anyone,
and never _hang around anyone’s neck_.” Then he wanted to put his arm
round my waist (and probably, most probably, he would have kissed me),
but I sprang to my feet and called Dora or rather Thea, for before the
gentlemen we pretend that we never call one another anything but Thea
and Rita. Father says that that is awfully silly, and no longer suitable
for Dora (but of course it was alright for me!), but we keep to our
arrangement. Then he raised my hand to his lips and said: “Don’t call!”
But Dora came up, and with her the gentleman with the pincenez, who is
a doctor of law belonging to the District Court of Innsbruck, and Marina
and one of the young men, and I asked, “I say, when _are_ we going to
have tea?” “Just fancy, she is hungry again already,” they all said,
and laughed like anything. And Dora looked _frightfully_ happy. She was
wearing an edelweiss buttonhole which she had not been wearing before;
in the evening she told me that Dr. P. had given it her. If possible he
is even taller than Hero Siegfried, for Dora is taller than I am and her
head only comes up to his ear. At 3 o’clock the last party came up to
the belvedere, we had got there earlier. The view was lovely. But I must
say I can enjoy a fine view much better when I am alone, that is with
Father or quite a few persons; it is no good when there’s such a crowd;
each additional person seems to take something more away. In a lovely
place and at the cemetery one must be alone. For a beautiful view
usually makes one feel frightfully sad, and one ought not to have been
laughing so much just before, or laugh directly afterwards. If I were
alone in Inner-Lahn I’m sure I should become melancholy, for it is so
gloriously beautiful there.
At 4 o’clock, after tea, we started back, for the schoolmaster thought
the descent would not take more than two hours and a half, but we needed
more than three. For we were all very tired, and a great many of them
had sore feet, especially Aunt Alma! We had said before, that it would
be too much for Aunt; but she had to come with us to take care of
Marina, though Marina enjoyed herself _extremely_ with a Herr Furtner,
who is studying mining like Oswald, not in Leoben but in Germany. One
does not really find out what a girl is like until one sees how she
behaves with a man, or what she is like when one talks to her about
_certain things_; as for the last, of course that’s impossible with
Marina _since the experience_ we had. But anyhow she is nicer than
one would have thought at first sight. It was lovely on the way home.
Driving back from Unter-Toifen we sat quite differently.
In our break, instead of the Weiners, there were three students from
Munich, they were awfully nice, and we sang all the songs we knew;
especially “Hoch vom Dachstein, wo der Aar nur haust,” and “Forelle”
and “Wo mein Schatz ist,” were lovely, and the people in two different
breaks sang together. And then some of them sang some Alpine songs and
yodelled till the hills echoed. Two or three of the men in the third
break were rather tipsy and _Hero Siegfried!!_ was one of them. Aunt
Alma had a frightful headache; it was utterly idiotic for her to come,
and we did not know yet what was still to happen. At every house from
which a girl had come there was a serenade. And next evening there was
to be a great raffle of the mementoes we had bought, but Father would
not let us go to that.
August 14th. It is desperately dull. I don’t know what on earth to do,
so I am writing my diary. Besides, I have not written about the row yet.
The next afternoon Aunt Alma came just as we were going out and said to
Father: Ernst, please let me have a word with you. Now we all know Aunt
Alma’s _let me have a word with you_. In plain language it means: I’m
going to make a scene. She began: “Ernst, you know I never like these
big parties with a lot of strangers, for no good can come of them.
Still, I made up my mind to go for the sake of the children, and chiefly
for the sake of _your motherless_ children. (Nobody asked her to; and
Aunt Dora had to stay at home on her account.) Do you know what sort of
people were in our company? That impudent young student whom Gretel is
always running after (did you ever hear anything like it! I should like
to know when I ran after him; I suppose in the wood I put _my_ arm round
_his_ waist, and I suppose that it was _I_ who began the acquaintance
on my birthday) and that girl who’s training for the stage did not come
home after the excursion till the night was half over. God knows
where they were! They were certainly no _cleaner_ when they got home.
(Naturally, for where could they have had a wash.) His father gave the
young blackguard a fine talking to, but of course the girl’s mother
takes her side. It would positively kill me to think of _my Marina doing
anything of the kind_.” Father was able to get a word in at last: “But
my dear Alma, what has all this to do with my girls? As far as I know
these two people weren’t in our break, isn’t that so girls?” I was glad
that Father turned to _us_, and I said: “Siegfried Sch. and the girl
drove in the fourth break, I saw them getting in. And it was toute meme
chause where he drove and with whom he was driving.” (Of course that’s
not true, but I said it was because of Aunt.) “Such language and such
a tone to your own Father!” Directly she said that Father was in such a
passion as I have never seen him in before. “My dear Alma, I really must
beg you not to interfere with _my_ educational methods, any more than
I ever attempt to interfere in _your_ affairs.” Father said this quite
quietly, but he was simply white with rage, and Dora told me afterwards
that I was quite white too, also from rage of course. Aunt Alma said:
“I don’t want to prophesy evil, but the future will show who is right
Goodbye.” As soon as she had gone Dora and I rushed to Father and said:
“Please Father, don’t be so frightfully angry; there’s no reason why you
should.” And Father was awfully sweet and said: “I know quite well that
I can trust you; you are my Berta’s children.” And then I simply could
not contain myself, and I said: “No, Father, I really did flirt with
Siegfried, and in the wood he put his arm round my waist; but I did not
let him kiss me, I give you my word I did not. And if you want me
to I’ll promise never to speak to him again.” And then Father said:
“Really, Gretel, you have plenty of time yet for such affairs, and
even if that _red-haired rascal_ plays the gallant with you, he is only
making himself a laughing-stock. And you don’t want that, do you, little
witch?” Then I threw my arms round Father and promised him _on my word
of honour_ that I would never speak to Siegfried again. For it really
distresses me very much that he should make himself ridiculous; and
that he should go out walking half the night with that girl; such
shamelessness!
We were so much upset that we did not go for a walk, and of course did
not go to the raffle. But I’m frightfully sorry about those things I
paid 7 crowns for. I do hope he did not win any of them.
August 15th. Just a few words more. Early this morning, as I was going
to breakfast, in the corridor I met S. (it’s a good thing that is the
initial both of his name and of Strick [rascal] as Father called him)
and he said: “Good morning, Fraulein Gretchen. Why weren’t you at the
raffle? Hadn’t you any share?”--“Oh yes, I had bought 7 crowns worth for
it, but I had no fancy for the company I should meet.” -- -- Why, what
has taken you all of a sudden? They were the same people as at the
excursion! -- -- -- “Precisely for that reason,” said I, and passed on.
I think I gave him what for, for he simply must have understood. Father
is really quite right, and it is not at all nice to abuse one’s parents
to strangers as he is always doing. I could not say a word against my
parents to anyone, although I’m often frightfully angry with them; of
course not about Mother, for she is dead. But not even about Father;
I would rather choke down the greatest injustice. For when we had that
trouble with Aunt Alma about Marina, I was really not in the least to
blame, but he scolded me so, even while Aunt Alma was there, so that I
can never forget it. But still, to a stranger, to some one whom I had
only just got to know, I would never say a word against anyone in our
family; though I used to get on so badly with Dora, I never said much
against her even to Hella; at most that she was deceitful, and that
really used to be so, though she seldom is now.
August 19th. It is so filthyly dull here; I can’t bear the word filthy,
but it’s the only one that’s strong enough. Oswald is coming this
evening, at last. Thank goodness. S. has made several _advances_, but I
have _ignored_ them. Let him stick to his actress who can go out walking
with him half the night. I really _should_ like to know where they
went. In the night, I never heard of such a thing! Dora says she took a
dislike to S. from the first because he -- -- -- -- -- it’s an absolute
lie! -- -- -- has clammy! hands. It’s simply not true, on the contrary
he has such entrancingly cool hands, I’m sure I must know that better
than Dora. But I’ve known for a long time that whenever anyone pays
_me_ attention Dora is _unsympathetic_, naturally enough. By the way, on
Sunday I got a charming letter from Anneliese. I must answer it to-day.
August 22nd. Oswald is awfully nice. He did not forget my birthday, but
he says that at that time he was stoney, in student’s slang that means
that he hadn’t any money, and then he could not find anything suitable,
but that he will repair the omission as soon as we get back to Vienna.
But I don’t know what I should like. Oswald is going to stay until
we all go back to Vienna, and we are making a few excursions _by
ourselves_. That is really the best way after all. I am not much with
the Weiners now, for we had a little tiff on the big excursion. But
Nelly is rather taken with Oswald, so she came twice to our table
to-day, once about a book we had lent her, and once to arrange for a
walk.
August 24th. It is really absurd that one’s own brother can think such
a lot of one; but if he does, I suppose he knows. Oswald said to
me to-day: “Gretl, you are so smart I could bite you. How you are
developing.” I said: “I don’t want anyone to bite me,” and he said: “Nor
do I,” but I was awfully delighted, though he is only my brother. He
can’t stand Marina, and as a man he finds Dora too stupid; I think he’s
right, really. And I simply can’t understand Dr. P., that he can always
find something to talk about to Dora. He has hardly said 10 words to me
yet. Still, I don’t care.
August 27th. We went up the Matscherkogel yesterday, and we had a lovely
view. The two boys came, for they had begged their father to let them;
but of course Aunt Alma and Marina did not come. Oswald calls Aunt Alma
_Angular Pincushion_, but only when Father isn’t there, for after all
she is Father’s sister. The Weiners wanted to come too, but I said
that my brother was staying only a few days more, and that this was a
“farewell excursion _en famille_.” They were rather hurt, but they have
made me very angry by the way in which they will go on talking about S.
in front of me, on purpose, saying that he is engaged or is going to
be engaged to the actress girl against his father’s will. What does
it matter to _me_? They keep on exchanging glances when they say that,
especially Olga, who is really rather stupid. I am so sad now at times
that I simply can’t understand how I could have enjoyed myself so much
on the big excursion. I’m always thinking of dear Mother, and I often
wear my black frock. It suits my mood better.
August 30th. I believe the Schs. are leaving to-morrow. At least the old
gentleman said to Father the day before yesterday: “Thank the Lord, we
shall soon be able to enjoy the comforts of home once more.” That is
what Hella’s grandmother used to say before they came back from the
country. And to-day I saw two great trunks standing in the passage just
outside Herr Scharrer’s room. Oswald thinks the old gentleman charming;
well, there’s no accounting for tastes. I don’t believe he’s ever
spoken to S., though he is a German Nationalist too, but of a different
section; Oswald belongs to the Sudmark, and S. abused that section
frightfully when I told him that Oswald belonged to the Sudmark.
August 31st. He has really gone to-day, that is, the whole family has
gone. They came to bid us goodbye yesterday after supper, and they left
this morning by the 9 o’clock train to Innsbruck. And his hands are not
clammy, I paid particular attention to the point; it is pure imagination
on Dora’s part. He and Oswald greeted one another with Hail! That’s a
splendid salutation, and I shall introduce it between Hella and me.
September 2nd. The Weiners left to-day too, because people are really
beginning to stare at their mother too much. When Olga said goodbye to
me she told me she hated having to travel with her mother and whenever
possible she would lag behind a little so that people should not know
they belonged together.
September 4th. I never heard of such a thing!! S. has come back, alone
of course. Everyone is indignant, for he has only come back because of
Fraulein A., the actress girl. But Oswald defends him like anything.
This afternoon Frau Lunda said to Aunt Dora: “It’s simply scandalous,
and his parents certainly ought not to have allowed him to come, even if
the girl’s mother does not know any better.” Then Oswald said: “Excuse
me, Frau Lunda, Scharrer is no longer a schoolboy who must cling to
his mother’s apron-string; such tutelage would really be unworthy of a
full-grown German.” I was so pleased that he gave a piece of his mind
to Frau L., for she is always glaring at one and is so frantically
inquisitive. And _tutelage_ is such an impressive word, S. used it once
when he was speaking of his sister and why she had never married. Frau
L. was furious. She turned to Aunt Dora and said: “Young men naturally
take one another’s part, until they are fathers themselves and then they
hold other views.”
September 8th. Thank goodness we are going home the day after to-morrow.
It really has been rather dull here, certainly I can’t join in the paean
Hella sang about the place last year; of course they were not staying in
the Edelweiss boarding house but in the Hotel Kaiser von Oesterreich.
It makes a lot of difference _where_ one is staying. By the way, it
has just occurred to me. The young wife who had the eruption after
_infection_ can’t have been divorced, as Hella wrote me the week before
last; for her husband has been there on a visit, he is an actor at the
Theatre Royal in Munich. So it would seem that actors really are all
_infected_; and Hella always says it is only officers! She takes rather
an exaggerated view.
September 14th. We have been back in Vienna since the 11th, but I have
been absolutely unable to write, though there was plenty to write about.
For the first person I met when I went out on the 11th to fetch
some cocoa which Resi had forgotten, was Lieutenant R. Viktor, _the
Conqueror!!_ Of course he recognised me immediately, and was awfully
friendly, and _walked with me a little way_. He asked casually after
Dora, but it is obvious that he is not in love with her any more. And
it was so funny that he should not know that Dora had matriculated this
year and so would not be going to the High School any more. I did not
tell him that she intends to go on with her studies, for it is not
absolutely settled yet.
September 16th. Hella came home yesterday; I am so glad; I greeted her
with: _Hail!_ but she said; “don’t be silly,” besides, it’s unsuitable
for an Austrian officer’s daughter!!! Still, we won’t quarrel about it
after 2 months’ separation, and _Servus_ is very smart too though not
so distinguished. She told me a tremendous lot more about that young
married woman; some of the ladies in B. said that her cousin was _in
love_ with the husband. That would be awful, for then she would get
infected too; but Hella says she did not notice anything, though she
watched very closely during the fortnight he was there. He sang at two
of the musical evenings, but she did not see any sign of it. Lizzi
is _engaged_, but Hella could not write anything about it, for the
engagement is only being officially announced now that they are back in
Vienna; her fiance is Baron G. He is an attache in London, and she met
him there. He is madly in love with her. In August he was on leave, and
he came to B. to make an offer of marriage; that is why they stayed the
whole summer in B. instead of going to Hungary. Those were the _special
circumstances_, about which Hella said she could not write to me. I don
t see why she could not have told me _that_, I should have kept it to
myself; and after all, Lizzi is 19 1/2 now, and no one would have been
surprised that she is engaged at last. They can’t have a great betrothal
party, for Baron G.’s father died in July. Hella is very much put out.
Lizzi says it does not matter a bit.
September 18th. Lizzi’s betrothal cards arrived to-day. It must be
glorious to send out betrothal cards. Dora got quite red with annoyance,
though she said when I asked her: “Why do you flush up so, surely
there’s no reason to be ashamed when anyone is _engaged!_” “Really, why
should you think I am ashamed, I am merely _extremely surprised_.” But
one does not get so red as _that_ from surprise.
September 19th. School began to-day; unfortunately, for _she_ has gone.
And what was the Third is now the Fourth, and that is detestable, to sit
in the classroom without _her_. Luckily we have Frau Doktor St. as class
mistress, and she is to teach us mathematics and physics once more;
Frau Doktor F., whom we used to call Nutling and the Fifth used to call
Waterfall has gone, for she has been appointed to the German High School
in Lemberg. For the time being we are sitting in our old place, but
Hella says we must ask Frau Doktor S. to let us have another seat, for
the memory of the three years when we had Frau Doktor M. might make us
inattentive. That is a splendid idea. In German we have a master, in
French I am sorry to say it’s still Frau Doktor Dunker, whose complexion
has not improved, and in English the head mistress. I am very pleased
with that, for first of all I like her very much, and secondly I shall
be in her good books from the start because Dora was her favourite. Of
course I’m not learning Latin, for it would not interest me now that
Frau Doktor M. has gone. Oh, and we have a new Religion teacher, for
Herr Professor K. has retired, since he was 60 already.
September 21st. We have managed it. In the long interval, Hella said to
Frau Doktor St., who was in charge. “Frau Doktor, may we venture to ask
for something?” So she said: “What, in the very first week; well, what
is it?” We said we should like to move from the third bench towards the
window, for we found it very painful to go on sitting where we had sat
when Frau Doktor M., was there. At first she refused, but after a while
she said: “I’ll see what I can do, if you are really not happy where
you are.” From 11 to 12 was the mathematic lesson, and as soon as Frau
Doktor Steiner had taken her place she said: “This arrangement of
your seats was only provisional. You had better sit more according to
height.” Then she rearranged us all, and Hella and I were moved to the
5th bench on the window side; the two twins, the Ehrenfelds got our
places; in front of us is Lohr and a new girl called Friederike Hammer
whose father is a confectioner in Mariahilferstrasse. We are awfully
glad that we have got away from that hateful third bench where _she_
used so often to stand near us and lay her hand on the desk.
September 29th. Professor Fritsch, the German professor, came to-day
for the first time. He is always clearing his throat and he wears gold
spectacles. Hella thinks him _tolerably_ nice, but I don’t. I’m quite
sure that I shall never get an Excellent in German again. Yesterday the
new Religion master came for the first time, and I sat alone, for Hella
being a Protestant did not attend. He looks frightfully ill and his eyes
are always lowered though he has burning black eyes. Next time I shall
sit beside Hammer which will be company for us both.