[Illustration: ("Das Ganze--halt!")]
Shortly before Christmas Senior-lieutenant Güntz was promoted to be
captain, and was placed in command of the fifth battery, _vice_ Captain
Mohr, discharged from the service for incompetence.
New brooms sweep clean, and Güntz set to work with ardour at the
difficult task of bringing order and efficiency into the neglected
troop. By means of stringent discipline, and even severity, he
succeeded in this more easily than he himself had expected, and soon
began to notice with satisfaction that his labour was gradually bearing
fruit.
After a time the fifth battery could be ranged alongside the pattern
fourth and sixth batteries. Major Schrader rubbed his hands cheerfully:
to have three such excellent officers commanding batteries in one
division at the same time was indeed unusual good fortune, and he well
knew how to make use of them.
At the spring inspection he received a string of compliments at least a
yard long from the commander of the brigade, and in his joy showered
thanks upon Güntz for having helped him to achieve such a success.
Güntz himself was greatly pleased that the inspection had gone so
smoothly. He had not been sure that this would be so, as he did not
feel his battery quite well enough in hand even yet.
"Yes, it went off tolerably, didn't it, sir?" he replied modestly.
"Faultlessly! faultlessly!" said the major.
"Well, sir, it was partly good luck. The officer in command of a
battery is right in the middle of it all, and sees lots of things which
look as if they might go wrong. Then some happy accident occurs, and
the situation is saved."
The major, however, seemed to have something more on his mind, and
stood stroking his whiskers in embarrassment.
"Certainly, certainly," he answered. "A man must have good luck, or he
will have bad! But your merit is there all the same, my dear Güntz."
And then he continued, rather haltingly: "And therefore, you know, it
is all the more painful to me. But there is something more behind.
These superior officers never seem to give unstinted praise."
Güntz's hand went up to his helmet, and he said, in a level voice: "Of
course I am at your orders, sir."
"No, no, my dear Güntz," said Schrader, deprecatingly; "the colonel is
kind enough to undertake the unpleasant part of my duty for me, and I
am glad of it; for it would have been very much against the grain with
me. Well, well! just you go quietly to the colonel, and don't worry
about it at all. Thank you, my dear Güntz. Good morning, good morning!"
He turned towards his quarters, and from the steps nodded in friendly
fashion to the captain.
Güntz did feel a little anxious about the interview which lay before
him. He was conscious of having performed his duty to the best of his
ability. But heaven knows what commanding officers won't sometimes get
their backs up about!
Colonel von Falkenhein received him very cordially.
"My dear friend," he said, "I congratulate you! You could not have
wished for a better _début_ as the youngest officer in command of a
battery."
"Thank you very much, sir," replied Güntz; and then went straight to
the point about the mysterious affair. His curiosity was surely
pardonable.
"Excuse me, sir," he continued, "Major Schrader informs me that----"
Falkenhein interrupted him: "Yes, quite right. You will take it
to heart, but you must know that our esteemed brigadier has still
something _in petto_. As you have heard, he was highly satisfied
with your direction of your battery to-day; but he considers
that in regard to discipline you do not seem to be quite at home
yet in your new position."
This was just what Güntz had not expected. He had imagined his best
work to have been precisely in this direction.
Falkenhein smiled at his puzzled look as he asked for further
explanation, and shrugging his shoulders went on: "Yes, so the general
said, But, my dear Güntz, I have only formally repeated this to you as
I was commanded to do so. Now let us talk it over as colleagues. I can
understand your astonishment, and you will soon be more puzzled than
ever. The reason the general gives for his strictures is that there has
been so much punishment in your battery--more than double as much as in
the fourth and the sixth together."
Güntz restrained a gesture of impatient surprise. This was rather
beyond a joke!
"But, sir," he said, "you know under what circumstances I took
command!"
"Know? why, of course I do!" answered Falkenhein; "and of course I
explained to him. But he regarded my description as exaggerated. I may
tell you in confidence that he belongs to the very clique who managed
to keep Mohr in the service so long. And he regards his opinion as
infallible--namely, that too many punishments in a troop are the
consequence of a lack of discipline. He considers that a certain
similarity in the punishment-registers of the batteries should be aimed
at unconditionally. Otherwise unfavourable conclusions as to the
capability of individual captains must be drawn, he says."
Güntz was honestly indignant, and when anything struck him as unjust,
it never mattered to him in whose presence he was; he must speak his
mind, even to his colonel.
"Pardon me, sir," he began, "but the general has surely lost sight of
the fact that for similar results similar previous conditions are
necessary. I consider, with all respect, that even in normal batteries
the material on which we have to work is different; and that in the
very same battery perhaps the new year's recruits may effect an
enormous difference in the punishment-register. To say nothing of such
circumstances as there were in my case. If my punishment-register were
_not_ greater than those of the fourth and sixth batteries, then
that would reflect unfavourably upon me. And I most respectfully hope
that it is not a more important matter to the general to receive
punishment-registers of the same length, than that the discipline of a
battery should suffer." Almost out of breath, he added! "Pardon me,
sir, I beg!"
Falkenhein had become very serious.
"I take nothing you have said amiss, my dear Güntz," he replied. "I
cannot but admit that you are perfectly right. And exactly what you
have just argued I myself said very plainly to the general, very
plainly indeed. He became damnably cold to me at the end of it."
The colonel paused, and smiled a little to himself as he thought over
the conversation. The general had been nearly bursting with rage, and
would not have permitted such opposition from any one else to go
unpunished. But Falkenhein was a recognised favourite of the old
monarch; he had been the king's hunting-companion for days together,
and was surer in his position than even the general in his. So he could
not cut up too rough.
"Nevertheless," continued the colonel more cheerfully, "he regarded it
as desirable that a greater similarity should gradually be obtained."
Güntz answered firmly: "Forgive me, sir, I cannot promise the general
this in anticipation. I could not bring it into harmony with my
conception of the duty of an officer."
"Good," answered Falkenhein. "You have given me that answer as your
friend and colleague. As your commander, I have perfect confidence that
you will do all you can that is useful and desirable for the king's
service, and that in this sense you will accede to the general's wish."
Güntz bowed, and answered: "Certainly, sir."
In the orderly-room he asked the sergeant-major whether Zampa had been
exercised that day.
"Not yet, sir."
"Then please have him saddled, and I will take him out for a little
myself."
He rode down towards the valley. Yonder on the left among the fresh
green plantations lay the pistol-practice ground, on which a few months
ago his duel with Lieutenant Landsberg had taken place. He thought less
of that episode itself than of the night before it, during which he had
written down his reasons for contemplating resignation.
To-day he felt himself enriched by a fresh argument.
Deuce take it! Was not this passion for similarity enough to madden
one? Must everything be tainted by this damned, regular, grinding
drill, this parade-march sort of principle? Must things everywhere run
smoothly and according to rule, just in order that the authorities
might be convinced of the excellence of the whole system?
So even the punishment-register should be carefully edited! No one must
lift his head above his fellows! It was really laughable. Teachers
might have bad pupils; but it seemed to be against the rules for the
captain of a battery to have bad soldiers in his troop!
Luckily for him, he happened to be in very favourable circumstances. He
had a colonel who stood up for him, and who could dare to express a
difference of opinion from his superior officer, because he himself
chanced to be in the good books of the king. So that this affair would
pass by all right and do nobody any harm. But what would have happened
if the colonel himself had felt uncertain of his position? Would he
have found the moral courage to oppose his influential superior, even
if only by a modest remonstrance? Would he not rather, for the sake of
his career, have said, merely: "Certainly, sir!"
And then the pressure would have gone on downwards; and among a hundred
captains there were certainly but few who, in the struggle between
their better knowledge and their future career, would remain true to
their convictions. Most of them would bring the punishment-register up
to the "desirable" regularity, and just do as best they could with the
bad elements in their batteries: the men who sneered at all discipline,
and whom nevertheless their captain dared not punish properly; who
spoilt the good soldiers, and increased the dislike of the reservists
for the service. Otherwise the punishment-register might exceed the
average demanded, and "that would cause unfavourable conclusions as to
the discipline of the battery and the capability of the captain."
Güntz rode slowly back along the grassy lane. He looked around him.
Yonder the white walls of the barracks gleamed in the sunshine; a fresh
wind gently shook the budding branches, and all around everything was
sprouting, filled with the vigour of youth. He guided his horse
carefully round a patch of primroses, which covered the whole width of
the path with a sheet of yellow blossoms.
He bade dull care begone. Could he not at any time quit the service
directly he became convinced of its ineffectiveness? To-day's
experience was simply a fresh weight in the scales of his doubt.
He had once more determined to apply all his strength to the solution
of a problem, which had been in his mind even at the time of his
employment in Berlin.
There seemed to him no doubt that the French field-artillery with its
anti-recoil construction had gained a great advantage over all other
armies; an advantage which could only be prejudiced if the utility of
the invention were proved on the field of battle to be less than was
expected. Up to the present time the French gun-carriage had only been
tested on a small scale in peace man[oe]uvres, and it had not been
absolutely demonstrated that its construction would stand the
continuous high pressure of a campaign. He was now absorbed in a scheme
for simplifying and strengthening the anti-recoil attachments in such a
way that they would keep in working order under the severest test. And
at the same time he had been directing his attention to the steel
shields used in the French field-artillery for the protection of the
men who served the guns. German military authorities were for the most
part opposed to the introduction of this method of protection; but the
shield seemed to him very worthy of adoption. In the battles of the
future the percentage of probable losses must be computed quite
mathematically; and it would be a great advantage if, by virtue of the
shield, a large number of the combatants could be considered safe.
The opponents of the measure gave it as their opinion that the men
would shirk quitting the protection of the shield; or that, at any
rate, they would take aim so hurriedly that their accuracy must
necessarily suffer. Well, one might equally well argue that the
infantry would refuse to leave their trenches. The other objection was
more convincing: shooting would become too difficult if this steel
shield were associated with the anti-recoil construction. It was a
question of mobility; therefore Güntz set to work to find out some
method of lightening the gun. Why should the gun-carriage be loaded
with such a large quantity of ammunition as was customary--more,
probably, than would ever be needed? He was constructing the model of a
carriage in which the quantity of ammunition carried was to be
diminished by one-third; so that the extra weight of the anti-recoil
construction and the steel shield should be more than counterbalanced.
When he was in Berlin he had gone into the details of his invention
with the head of a large Rhenish gun-foundry. This man proposed that
Güntz should send in his resignation and enter the service of the firm
at a handsome salary. Güntz at that time was not prepared to decide in
the matter; but at the close of the interview the manager had said:
"Who knows? perhaps we shall see each other again."
Had the man been right?
In any case, Güntz felt strong enough to make his own way through life.
The servant took his horse from him at the garden gate.
"Well, did it go off all right?" asked Kläre.
The captain answered, "Yes, first-rate." He did not conceal the "but,"
however. The calm good sense of his wife always helped him to test his
own impressions. Kläre was, indeed, a woman whose like was not to be
found in the whole world; a woman who had been created just for him.
She had her own methods in everything. If, at dinner, her husband were
worried with thoughts of the black sheep in his battery, and would keep
introducing such topics at their comfortable board, then she would snub
him quite severely. But when he came to her with his real doubts and
anxieties she was ever ready to comfort and advise him. She knew all
about his plan of testing himself for a year in the command of a
battery; and sometimes she was inclined to advise him to shorten the
period of probation. She was shrewd enough to foresee that within a
year and a day he would have discarded his officer's uniform.
Lieutenant Reimers continued as hitherto to be a welcome guest in the
Güntz household.
He had realised that his frequent visits were in no way a bother to his
friend; and when Frau Kläre, with the amiability of a careful hostess,
considered his little idiosyncrasies of taste, he could but protest
feebly: "Really, dear lady, you spoil me too much! What shall I do if,
for instance, I have to go to the Staff College next year?"
To Güntz he once said, "I must say that in contemplating you and your
wife, one realises what a half-man a bachelor is."
The stout captain laughed good-naturedly.
"Kläre," he shouted to his wife, who was just coming into the room, "it
appears that I wasn't making a mistake when I chose you for my wife."
"How's that, my Fatty?" asked his wife.
"Reimers has just been saying that the sight of our wedded life gives
him an appetite for matrimony. What do you say to that?"
"A very sensible remark, Herr Reimers," laughed Kläre.
Reimers blushed a little and rejoined: "Well, then, I shall soon go
bride-hunting. For your advice is always good, dear lady."
"Now then, flatterer!" growled Güntz. "Don't make my wife conceited."
But when Reimers had bidden them good-bye he said to Kläre: "I really
believe it would be a most sensible thing for Reimers to marry; he is
not the sort to become a mere mess-house or tavern _habitué_. He ought
to go about and study the daughters of our country a little."
"Why go about? There's good enough near at hand," said Frau Kläre.
The captain looked up: "Eh?"
Smilingly his wife pointed over her shoulder to the neighbouring villa.
"Marie Falkenhein?" asked Güntz.
Frau Kläre nodded.
"You don't want to earn a match-maker's reward, do you, now?" inquired
her husband.
"Oh, Fatty, darling! don't you know me better than that?"
his wife protested. "No, no, nothing of the sort! But seriously, I do
mean that those two young people would suit each other very well. With
regard to Marie, I know positively this much, she thinks Reimers very
nice; and that is, at any rate, something to go on, until our dear
Reimers opens his eyes."
"But let him open them quite by himself, please; no assistance, I do
beg!" the captain interrupted.
"Of course, Fatty, quite by himself."
"But, Kläre, how about that episode of the Gropphusen? That was a bit
off the rails, wasn't it?"
"Nothing of the kind. Nothing but a mere passing flirtation."
Güntz shook his head thoughtfully.
"No, Kläre," he replied. "I understand Reimers. He would never have
anything to do with mere passing flirtations. It is just the dear
fellow's misfortune that he takes everything so damned seriously. It
went pretty deep with him that time with the Gropphusen; you can
believe me as to that."
"Still, one does not cling for all eternity to such a useless sort of
business."
Güntz was not quite convinced.
"Well, we must hope not," he said. "And, really, the two would suit
each other excellently."
Walking up and down the room he continued: "Yes, in all respects.
Reimers has an income of about seventy thousand marks, and the colonel
would certainly be able to give his daughter a bit of money without
having to pinch himself. I should say about twenty thousand. True, he
is no Cr[oe]sus; but then he will soon be made a general. Our dear
Reimers will have to keep his passion for books in check. Yes, yes! The
thing would answer admirably."
He stood still and knocked the ash off his cigar.
"Why are you laughing, you sly little woman?" he asked, glancing down
at her.
"How funny you are, Fatty!" Kläre answered. "You accuse me quite
sternly of the worst intentions, and then you make plan after plan, and
even begin to reckon up their joint income!"
But Güntz parried the accusation gallantly:
"Just another compliment for you, my Kläre. Only happy couples try to
bring about other marriages."
A short time afterwards, without any prompting from the Güntzes,
Reimers said to his stout friend: "Güntz, doesn't it strike you that
Mariechen Falkenhein is a very nice girl?"
Güntz leant back in his chair reflectively, and answered: "A nice girl?
how do you mean? Certainly she has a pretty face, her eyes are
especially sweet, and she has a good figure. Just a little too slight.
For my taste, of course I mean."
"No," replied Reimers, "I don't mean that so much. Certainly she is
pretty. But, after all, that's a secondary matter. I mean more the
effect of her personality. There seems to be something so sure, so
comfortable, so restful about her. Don't you think so?"
"Well, you know, I have not made such detailed observations. But I
daresay you are right. And I should say that she will make a splendid
wife some day. Quick and accurate, without a trace of superficiality,
with a strong instinct for housewifely order; a simple, clear, shrewd
intellect--the man who wins her for his wife will be a lucky fellow!"
Reimers unconsciously drew himself up a little, and he said doubtfully:
"But surely she is still much too young."
"Not a bit," replied Güntz. "She will be eighteen in the autumn, and
she is not even engaged yet. And after that there would be the
betrothal time of the educated European--not less than six months.
Well, that would bring her nearly up to twenty, and at twenty a woman
in our geographical area is quite eligible for marriage."
Reimers appeared to meditate upon this. Finally, however, he only
replied by a prolonged "H'm," and dropped the subject.
But the ladies of the regiment had soon a fresh subject for gossip.
Lieutenant Reimers was paying his addresses to Marie Falkenhein. There
was no doubt that his intentions were serious. Well, he had no rivals
to fear. Falkenhein was poor every one knew that. He could have very
little income beyond his pay. And his daughter? Oh, yes, she was a
pretty, graceful creature; but she was not brilliantly beautiful, and
therefore could not have any very great expectations. No question of
anything beyond just a suitable and satisfactory marriage in the
service.
From this time onward the matter was almost regarded as settled; and in
the garrison gossip Marie von Falkenhein and Lieutenant Reimers were
soon spoken of as though their betrothal had been already announced.
Naturally the interesting news was eagerly carried to Frau von
Gropphusen, and she was narrowly watched for the effect of the
communication; but nothing could be detected. No flinching, no pauses
in the conversation, no alteration in the expression of her face or of
her voice. What a pity that there was no theatre in the town, when they
so thoroughly enjoyed such little dramas!
Hannah Gropphusen did not discontinue her visits to Frau Güntz. She
came neither more rarely nor more frequently. She seemed to have
regained self-control.
Frau Kläre's birthday was celebrated in the arbour of the Falkenheins'
garden, by the second _Maibowle_ of the season. They had drunk to the
health of the birthday-queen, and were just sitting down again when
there was the tinkle of a bicycle-bell outside in the street. The soft
sound of the quick wheels came nearer, and just in front of the garden
there was the thud of a light pair of feet jumping to the ground.
A clear voice, which would have sounded merry, but that for the moment
it seemed a little breathless, called up to the arbour: "Hurrah!
hurrah! And for the third time hurrah! Can one get anything to drink
here?"
Güntz hurried to the balustrade.
"My dear lady!" he exclaimed astonished. "Certainly you can! There's
still lots left."
He turned round: "Pardon me, sir, but here's Frau von Gropphusen."
Falkenhein went quickly to his side: "Do give us the pleasure of your
company, dear Frau von Gropphusen. I will have your bicycle taken in at
once."
He went to the gate and conducted Frau von Gropphusen to the arbour.
Güntz had already placed a chair at the table for her and poured out a
glass of _Maibowle_.
"Who rides so late through night and wind?" asked Kläre merrily,
holding out her hand cordially to the new arrival.
Hannah Gropphusen greeted the festive circle with a bright smile, and
replied: "Do forgive me, Colonel von Falkenhein. The lights and the
festivity in your arbour were too inviting."
She raised her glass, and drank to Kläre Güntz: "To your happiness,
dear Frau Kläre, from the bottom of my heart."
"I have been delayed at Frau von Stuckardt's," she then said; "or,
rather, Frau von Stuckardt would not let me leave."
"Stuckardt told me," interrupted the colonel, "that his wife was not
well."
"Yes, she has got the old pain in her face back again, which no doctor
can relieve, and that was why I had to stay so long. I had to keep my
hands on her cheeks. She says I have soothing hands and can do her
good."
Reimers looked across at her. She was sitting a little in the shadow,
so that her white straw hat and light blouse stood out distinctly. On
her bosom sparkled a small diamond. Only the tip of her foot was
visible in the lamplight, a beautiful, narrow, elegantly-shod foot,
which was swinging rapidly backwards and forwards.
To avoid catching her eye, Reimers turned to Marie Falkenhein, his
neighbour. The _Maibowle_ had got into his head a little. He chatted
away cheerfully, the young girl listening with flushed cheeks and
radiant eyes, and answering laughingly from time to time. They neither
of them noticed that meanwhile Frau von Gropphusen had emptied her
glass and was preparing to go.
"Many thanks," she said. "I was nearly fainting. The _Maibowle_ has
done me good. But it's getting late; I must go home."
"Of course they are expecting you at home?" asked Falkenhein.
Hannah Gropphusen laughed rather bitterly.
"Expecting me?" she replied. "Who? Oh no, I don't suppose my husband is
at home. But pray, colonel, don't punish him for that!"
This was rather painful. However, Frau von Gropphusen afterwards said
good-bye to them so simply and naturally that no one thought anything
more about it.
The colonel accompanied her to the gate, and the four in the arbour
went over to the balustrade. Güntz had put his arm tenderly round Frau
Kläre, and Reimers was standing beside Marie Falkenhein. They watched
Hannah Gropphusen mount her bicycle and ride slowly away. She turned
round in the saddle, waved her right hand, and shouted out a laughing
"Good-night."
A little further along she looked back, and the white-gloved hand waved
again, but they could no longer distinguish her features.
Then the rushing wheels disappeared in the darkness.
Frau von Gropphusen rode quietly home.
The servant was waiting at the door. He took the machine from her,
asking if she would take tea.
"No," she answered. "I have had it. You can clear the things away."
She threw herself on the couch in her room just as she was, in her
bicycling costume. She drew up the rug and wrapped herself in it.
And Hannah Gropphusen lay thus till far into the night, staring with
wide-open eyes into the darkness of the room.
A few days later Marie Falkenhein came through the garden gate to Kläre
Güntz's house.
"Kläre," she said, "I am going into the town to inquire after Frau von
Stuckardt. Would you like me to call in at the chemist's and tell him
he is to send you the sugar-of-milk for the baby?"
Frau Kläre took stock of the young girl, and shook her finger at her
laughingly.
"Mariechen! Mariechen!" she said. "I never would have believed you
could become such an accomplished hypocrite, my child."
Marie turned crimson.
"Yes, yes," continued Kläre. "Because you have heard me call vanity a
vice, you were ashamed to show off your new dress and hat to me. But
you hadn't quite the heart to pass by your old friend's house. Isn't
that the way of it?"
The young girl nodded, her face scarlet.
Kläre stroked her cheek caressingly, and went on: "You silly little
goose! But really, you know, when one's as pretty as you are, a little
vanity is excusable. And now tell me, where in the world did you get
these things?"
"Oh, Kläre," replied the girl, "not here, of course. Frau von
Gropphusen went with me and helped me to choose them. I can tell you,
Kläre, she does understand such things."
The young woman stood in front of her friend and looked her over from
head to foot. It would have been impossible to find any costume which
lent itself more happily to Marie's dainty appearance than this of some
light-grey soft silken material, trimmed with white, and with a little
hat to match, the shape of which softly emphasised the delicate beauty
of the young face.
Kläre gave the girl a hearty kiss, and said: "You are as pretty as a
picture, little one. Quite lovely. Well, and what did the stern father
say to all this?"
Marie was quite flushed with pride.
"At first he said, 'By Jove!'" she answered. "Then I made him give me a
kiss; and next he got quite anxious and wanted to know whether I hadn't
been running into debt. I had to swear to him that the whole turn-out
didn't cost me more than what he had given me for it."
"And is that the truth, dear child?"
"Well, I had just to add four marks from my pocket-money."
Kläre shook her head smilingly. "Dear, dear! So young and already so
depraved! Hypocrisy and perjury! Well, at least it is worth it."
Frau von Gropphusen now made quite a business of helping Marie von
Falkenhein about her clothes. Hannah's slender hands were quicker and
cleverer than those of the deftest maid, and she knew how to transform
the young girl's plain boarding-school frocks into something quite
pretty and original.
She did all this with a soft motherly tenderness, hardly in accordance
with her own youthfulness. Marie Falkenhien's school-girl stiffness
disappeared gradually, and a dainty young woman blossomed out.
"By Jove!" said Güntz to Frau Kläre. "How Mariechen is coming on! She
is getting a deuced pretty little girl!"
And Reimers looked at the young girl with eyes which no longer
contained the brotherly indifference of past months.
Shortly before the departure of the troops for the practice-camp the
regimental adjutant, Senior-lieutenant Kauerhof, had a fall from his
horse, and injured one of the tendons of his knee-joint. This would
probably keep him away from duty for about six weeks, so Lieutenant
Reimers was appointed to take his work. Being the eldest lieutenant in
the regiment his promotion to senior-lieutenant was expected any day.
The young officer was in the seventh heaven of delight at this mark of
distinction. He embarked on his new duties with boundless and untiring
zeal. He almost divined the wishes of Falkenhein; and sometimes it was
not even necessary to give explicit directions as to the manner in
which this or that order was to be carried out. The colonel knew that
Reimers, with his powers of intuition, would do the right thing.
Falkenhein could not imagine a more painstaking adjutant, nor one who,
when off duty, on the march, or at the practice-camp, could have looked
after his colonel's comfort with more tender consideration. He had
noticed that Reimers had of late paid his daughter attention, and the
idea of some day entrusting his child to the care of this excellent
young man--already like a beloved son to him--gave him real pleasure.
This gratifying prospect made him more unreserved than was usually his
custom. It was well known that the colonel was not exactly delighted
with the hundred and one innovations that had been introduced into the
army at the accession of the young emperor. And now, feeling that he
could trust his acting adjutant implicitly, and that not a word of
misrepresentation or misconstruction would ever reach the ears of any
evil-disposed person, he freely unburdened his mind of the cares and
anxieties that weighed upon it.
Some of these confidential communications struck Reimers with
amazement. He had expected to find in Falkenhein an officer who would
entirely dissipate all the doubts that Güntz had awakened in his mind;
and now he discovered that this honoured superior also was filled with
the gravest views as to the thoroughness and efficiency of the
organisation of the German army. The more important of these
conversations he noted down each evening in the following manner:--
_June 2nd._
The colonel happened to talk about the supply of officers for the
German army. In his opinion, the best material to draw from is the
so-called "army nobility"--that is to say, those families (not
necessarily noble) members of which have in many successive generations
been German officers--German meaning Prussian, Saxon, Hanoverian,
&c.--(examples: the colonel himself, Wegstetten, and also my humble
self). These families are mostly of moderate means, and often
intermarry. That conscientious devotion to their calling as officers is
thus ingrained in their flesh and blood must be self-evident. It is
born in them; and by their simple, austere up-bringing, with their
profession ever in view, they become thoroughly imbued with it. But
there is a danger that in such a mental atmosphere their range of
observation may be so restricted that they cannot view the life of the
world around them with intelligence or comprehension. Therefore it
is of immense importance that the corps of German officers should
be strengthened by the infusion of fresh blood from the middle and
lower-middle classes, whose members, having been brought up and
educated according to modern ideas, are of great service to the other
officers in enlarging their range of view. They provide unprejudiced
minds and clear intellects capable of dealing with the more advanced
technical problems of modern warfare (Güntz, for instance).
The most! unsatisfactory material consists of those officers who, on
account of inherited wealth, look upon their profession as a kind
of sport, attractive, abounding in superficial honours, and for
that reason very agreeable. They generally spring from well-to-do
middle-class families (Landsberg), or, in the smart regiments of
Guards, from the families of large landed proprietors and wealthy
manufacturers. These latter are apt to regard court ball-rooms and
racecourses as more important fields of action than drill-grounds and
barracks. They are wholly without ambition, because they only intend to
spend a few years in the army, and then retire to the comforts of
private life on their own estates. They are neither good officers
because to be that demands a man's whole attention and energies; nor,
subsequently, good citizens--because the proper management of a large
estate needs training and experience, which cannot be acquired during
their years of military life.
"Yet sometimes these very officers become generals in command, or
something of the sort!" said he. "That's the worst of it!"
_June 3rd._
The colonel continued the conversation of yesterday. We talked about
the aristocracy and the middle-class in the army. He admits without
hesitation that the middle-class element is despised, from the
staff-officers downwards, owing to causes originating in the reflected
glory of the old personal relations between the monarch and his
feudal lords, now somewhat modified by the indiscriminate giving of
titles--the acceptance of which titles, moreover, on the part of the
middle-classes, he utterly condemns. He wound up by saying: "If only it
were always members of the aristocracy who were really the most
efficient, and attained the highest eminence!"
Just as the colonel had argued before that there was danger of
one-sidedness from the prevailing influence of the "army nobility," he
now
pointed out that, on the other hand, an advantage arose: a kind of
accumulation of specific military qualities of a bodily as well as of a
mental kind. He may be quite right.
_June 6th._
Yesterday and to-day the Crown Prince lunched at the mess. He came for
these two days in order to inspect the regiment of dragoons here, which
belongs to his brigade. An amiable, good-tempered fellow (although our
cooking did not give him entire satisfaction), and one who likes to sit
over his wine a little.
As we rode after dinner his Highness told us some most racy and amusing
stories in capital style. Then the conversation turned upon questions
of tactics during the last campaign, and at this juncture the colonel
became quite grave. These visits of exalted personages to regimental
officers, which are to a certain extent of a social character, may, he
says, bring about serious consequences. Such exalted persons are apt to
regard any intellectual cypher as a great military genius if he happens
to be an agreeable and versatile talker, and then the military
authorities have not always the courage to disturb the preconceived
notions of their sovereign. Result: Society-generals for dinners and
balls; after whom rank next the petticoat-generals. And then he
referred to the female ascendency in the reign of the third Napoleon.
_June 11th._
There is in the Reuss regiment of infantry an amusing little adjutant,
Senior-lieutenant Schreck. He was with the expedition in China, and for
that was awarded a medal. He is never to be seen without his little red
and yellow ribbon. In fun the colonel asked him: "Have you got a ribbon
like that on your night-shirt too?"
"You are pleased to jest, sir!" answered the little fellow indignantly,
from the back of his long-legged bay mare.
"After all," said Falkenhein to me later, "I was just as proud of my
first medal in the year 1870!"
"But this deluge of orders," he continued, "that was showered upon the
China Expedition leads to a lot of self-delusion. It magnifies an
insignificant event to an unnatural degree. Trivial successes stand out
as if they were great victories, and cause exaggerated notions of
individual infallibilty. This was exactly what happened in the Dutch
campaign of 1787, upon which followed the disasters of Valmy and Jena."
Jena!----Güntz said that too. Moreover, the colonel does not deny that
the Expedition achieved all possible success. But he considers most
objectionable that self-asserting propensity to boast about it
associated as it so often is with an unctuous piety. "Of course," he
said, "it's only one of the signs of the times; and it is just these
times that don't please me. All this outward show in religion is
detestable. It was just so in Berlin and Potsdam in the time of
Bischoffswerder and Woellner."
That again was before--Jena.
_June 13th._
For the first time the colonel asked me about my experiences in the
South African War. He was reminded of it because a lieutenant belonging
to the South-West African Defence Corps happened to call upon him at
the practice-camp. I could only say that I had brought away with me
from the Transvaal an unspeakable abhorrence of war.
"Of war in general?" asked Falkenhein.
"Yes, indeed," I answered; and then it suddenly struck me what a
preposterous reply this was for an officer to make. I qualified the
assertion by saying I had assisted at the most unfortunate period of
the Boer War, during the panic that followed Cronje's capture, and
had got to know only the seamy side of warfare: demolished farms,
trampled-down fields, no real steady fighting, scarcely any skirmishing
even, but just one continual rout.
The colonel listened to my torrent of words in silence. Then at
last--"Good God!" he said, "a thoughtful man _must_ detest war--all
war. But it does not do to be sentimental. Sentimentality in this
matter is synonymous with stupidity." He spoke of this for a long
time, then about other topics, and finally wound up by saying: "There
are many such enigmas in this world that must remain unsolved for
the present, and with which men are yet forced to deal in a
practical manner, even at the risk of making mistakes. So that we just
have to choose a sensible middle course. We must be neither too
superficial nor too profound. And above all, we must not think too
much!" Unfortunately, I am not the man for such compromises.
_June 16th._
The colonel lunched with me in the canteen, sitting on benches in the
middle of the wood; our fare being bread, sausage, and some excellent
lager-beer. Close by were several one-year volunteers, and two or three
non-commissioned officers with them. They looked uncomfortable, for
they are forbidden to be on familiar terms with the non-commissioned
officers. The colonel, however, did not mind it much.
"I believe," he said, "that it cannot always be avoided." Then he spoke
of the one-year volunteer system, which in his opinion is a two-edged
sword. It furnishes most efficient reserve-officers,--it has that
advantage, certainly. But the drawbacks are as follows:
It is apt to demoralise the non-commissioned officers. True, bribery is
strictly forbidden; but that is a mere empty form, a prohibition which
is daily infringed, such infringement being purposely overlooked,
whether for good or evil. The non-commissioned officer then ceases to
depend on his pay alone; and that puts temptations to dishonourable
conduct before many a perhaps otherwise conscientious man, besides
inevitably engendering dissatisfaction with his profession.
Furthermore, the one-year volunteer system takes away just those men
who, with their higher intelligence and culture, might most effectually
oppose the socialistic propaganda that goes on in the ranks, and who
might in a certain sense exert an enlightening influence on those
around them. The colonel regards all prohibitions and regulations
against the inroads of the revolutionary spirit in the army as more or
less futile. The only practicable expedient is the influence over the
privates of thoroughly trustworthy elements in their midst. The fact
that the one-year volunteers live in barracks among the privates
certainly makes severe demands on the patriotism of the younger ones;
but then it renders careful surveillance possible, and affords a
valuable insight into the life of the common soldier, into his ways of
thinking and his views of the world in general. Falkenhein maintains
that for the same reason this arrangement, although in some respects
inconvenient, is highly desirable for the _avantageur_ as a future
officer. The French military authorities, who have lately instituted a
similar system, have, in his opinion, done perfectly right.
The hardships of the life serve both to sift out the incapables, and to
produce officers who are more mature, more manly, and who do not look
upon their inferiors as utter aliens.
The inspection of the regimental shooting went off without a hitch. In
his subsequent criticism the general spoke of the pleasure it
invariably afforded him to inspect the 80th Regiment of the Eastern
Division Field-Artillery,--a pleasure of which he had never been
disappointed. He ended by saying: "I congratulate both the regiment and
yourself, Colonel von Falkenhein. The regiment, because it has such an
excellent commanding officer at its head; and you, because you have
made your regiment such a splendid body of men." Hardly a very
brilliant or very witty remark, this; but it sounded pleasantly, and
one could not reasonably expect higher praise.
Falkenhein was in the best of good humours. "Come, Reimers," he said
after lunch, when he had accompanied the general to his carriage,
"We'll give my two bays a little exercise. They've had none yet
to-day."
The two officers started off at an easy trot towards the butts,
chatting as they went.
"Here's something that will interest you, my dear Reimers," said the
colonel presently. "Wednesday, the day we arrive home, is your day to
go to the Güntzes. Mariechen has written to say there will be a
surprise in the evening--vegetables of her own growing and poultry of
her own rearing. The child makes one's mouth water, after our fare
at the mess! The ladies promise us asparagus, home-bred chickens,
new potatoes, salad, rhubarb shape, and a bowl of strawberries,
too--everything home-grown. They drew lots as to which of the fowls
were to be sacrificed, and are anxiously awaiting the arrival of the
men, because not one of the kitchenmaids will consent to wring the neck
of a chicken. My daughter also thanks you very much for your kind
message; and I was to give you her kind remembrances, and to thank you
heartily for taking such excellent care of her old papa." Reimers
thanked him in a low voice.
"It is wonderful," continued Falkenhein pleasantly, "what a change a
little creature like that girlie of mine can make in one's home. It
used to be quite immaterial to me where I slept whether here, in
barracks, or in my own house. After my dear wife died I never cared to
be at home. And now this little girl makes things so pleasant again
that I once more enjoy being within my own four walls."
The lieutenant did not think this at all extraordinary. And as the
colonel went on chatting gaily about his little daughter, Reimers, so
silent hitherto, became quite talkative. Falkenhein turned and glanced
at him now and then. The young man threw his heart and soul into his
subject, and his eyes shone as he related various little instances of
Marie Falkenhein's amiability and charm.
Suddenly Reimers paused. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the
colonel at once for this jewel of a girl. It would, indeed, be the most
natural end to their conversation, and he felt sure that he would meet
with no rebuff. But then he had not meant to approach the colonel on
the subject so long as he was a mere simple lieutenant. He would at
least wait for his promotion to senior-lieutenant. Therefore he held
back the proposal he had so nearly made.
It fell out that the very next day an official telegram arrived,
promoting Reimers to the rank of senior-lieutenant. Colonel von
Falkenhein was the first to congratulate his acting adjutant, and it
astonished him that an event of the kind, bound to occur in the natural
order of things, should throw the sedate Reimers into such a state of
excitement.
The new senior-lieutenant, too, was surprised at himself, having
hitherto imagined that he regarded such externals with considerable
equanimity. The delight with which he now fastened the stars upon his
epaulettes was little less than that with which, seven years earlier,
he had attached the epaulettes themselves to his uniform, feeling
himself the happiest man in the whole world.
When Senior-lieutenant Reimers reported himself to the colonel,
Falkenhein made him an unexpected proposition.
"My dear Reimers," said he, "you know that Kauerhof is now the eldest
senior-lieutenant in the regiment. Before he gets his captaincy he will
have to return to ordinary duty for a time, and I must therefore look
about for another adjutant. So I thought of you, my dear Reimers. You
have been so entirely satisfactory as acting adjutant that I cannot
wish for a better man. But what do you think of it yourself?"
Reddening with pride and pleasure, Reimers replied: "If you are kind
enough to think me worthy of such a mark of distinction, sir, I can
only promise to do my best."
The colonel nodded, and continued: "I can well believe in your good
intentions. But now, how about the Staff College?"
"Under these circumstances," replied Reimers quickly, "I will of course
gladly give up the Staff College."
"That's just what you shall not do!" returned Falkenhein. "You shall go
to the Staff College. It is my wish, in your own interests and in that
of your career, my dear Reimers. Perhaps the matter could be arranged
by your postponing your examination for a little while. You will
probably in any case have to wait patiently for quite six years to come
before you get the command of a battery. Be my adjutant for the first
two years of that period, and then go in for your examination. By that
time I shall probably be no longer in the regiment. Well, what do you
say?"
Reimers agreed with pleasure. There seemed nothing but good fortune for
him that day. Apparently all his wishes were to be fulfilled. Would it
not perhaps be best to propose at once for the hand of Mariechen? Was
not this just the right moment, after receiving such a conspicuous
proof of Falkenhein's esteem and goodwill? But finally a piece of pure
punctilio prevented him from carrying out his intentions. It was not at
all correct to make a proposal of marriage at the time of receiving an
official notification.
At luncheon that day it was continually, "Your health, Reimers!" "Good
luck to you, Reimers!" or the orderly would be at his elbow with a
message: "Captain Blank, or Lieutenant So-and-so, would like to drink a
glass of wine with you, sir." And Reimers pledged his friends gaily
across the table. He had invited Güntz and little Dr. von Fröben to a
bottle of champagne, and grew more reckless as time went on. When
lights were brought for the cigars Güntz said to him: "You're a bit
screwed, my boy. You'd better go and sleep it off."
But Reimers had become exceedingly jovial. "Oh, it's nothing at all!"
he declared. "I'm going for my ride now It was postponed on account of
the announcements to-day."
"That'll do nicely, my son," said Güntz; "that will put you right
again." And he looked on smiling as the new senior-lieutenant swung
himself into the saddle. The first attempt miscarried, and even the
successful one was accomplished with difficulty; but the rider sat
firmly enough in his seat when he got there and Dorothy had no tricks.
Güntz waved merrily to his friend as he turned off into the forest.
The mare's hoofs sank deep into the soft sand; she soon allowed herself
to fall into a lazy pace, and Reimers did not press her. Dorothy
stretched out her neck and drew the bridle through her rider's fingers;
he let it hang loose.
Reimers now became aware for the first time that the glasses and
half-glasses in which he had answered his friends' congratulations must
have amounted to a considerable number. If he tried to concentrate his
thoughts on any particular subject, they slipped away from him in the
most perverse manner. He reflected vaguely that this was the kind of
mood in which he had of old committed all manner of pleasant follies
and youthful indiscretions. And why not? Was he not young, and a free
man?
How delightful was this solitude after the noise and smoke of the
mess-room! It was now about six o'clock, and a heavenly June evening.
The sun was still high, but the heat was no longer oppressive; the air
felt soft and caressing. The dense forest on either hand was wrapped in
stillness; no sound penetrated between the slender stems of the trees;
the horse's tread in the soft sand made only a slight swishing noise.
At a crossing of the ways the mare came to a standstill, stretching out
her nose towards a narrower lane, and snuffing the air. Finally she
turned off the sandy road on to a grassy bridle-path. Reimers gave her
her head; this was probably a short cut to the neighbouring village.
Now the wood became thinner. Cleared patches or young plantations
alternated with the groups of tall pine-trees, and presently a fairly
large meadow appeared on the left. The hay had already been carried;
but in one corner the last remains of the crop had been collected and
heaped together. This little haycock exhaled a penetrating fragrance,
the essence of forest, grass, and sunshine, which the mare sniffed at
longingly.
Suddenly there came over Reimers an irresistible desire to stretch
himself out in the hay and rest there for a little. Without further
thought he dismounted, pushed some hay to the mare with his foot,
passed the bridle round the trunk of a pine that stood solitary at the
edge of the field, and threw himself down on the soft grass. He
pillowed his head on his cap, and buried himself deep in his rustling
couch. He drew out along stalk and chewed at it; it still retained the
sweet grassy taste. Thin wisps fell across his face, and between them
he looked up into the blue sky, lazy and contented. Perfect stillness
reigned around him; only as from time to time he turned his head the
dry grass crackled and rustled, sounding in his ears like the snapping
of twigs and branches.
At last his eyes became painful from staring so long into the dazzling
blue of heaven. He shut them; all now was red instead of blue, and to
lie with closed lids was grateful and delicious after the blinding
light. He cast one sleepy glance at the mare. She stood there flicking
her sides with her tail, and kept trying vainly to get some hay from
the ground into her bit-encumbered mouth. He thought of slackening the
curb for the poor beast, but was too lazy to stir.
While he was dozing off it seemed to him as if something light and
fluttering passed him by; and for a moment he became aware of another
perfume added to the scent of the hay--something faint, yet distinct.
But he kept his eyes closed; nothing external mattered to him.
Reimers was awakened by a gentle pricking and tickling. It felt as
though a wisp of hay were passing lightly over his mouth, backwards and
forwards. He snatched at it, and a long stalk remained in his hand. His
eyes were slightly dazzled; he was gazing straight at the sun, already
considerably lower in the sky.
Lazily he looked around him. Thank goodness, the mare was still there,
her head turned towards him, her ears pricked attentively.
And here--close beside him? A woman sat there; a dainty little figure,
dressed in some light silken fabric, on her fashionably-curled golden
hair an enormous straw hat, above which nodded brilliant scarlet
poppies. She sat with her back to him, and was trying to pick out the
longest stalk from a tuft of grass that grew at the edge of the meadow.
Reimers rubbed his eyes. Devil take it all! was he still dreaming? A
subtle odour came wafting from the rustling silk of her attire, a
breath of depravity, as though hailing from the corrupt life of some
big city; a bewildering, insinuating atmosphere, that had of a sudden
overpowered the delicious freshness of hay and pine-trees.
He shut his eyes dizzily. His senses were still somewhat dazed from his
potations; he could not rouse himself to a clear awakening.
The woman turned towards him. A charming, rather bold face bent down
over him, and a pair of hot, eager lips were pressed to his. And
Reimers, after the space of years behind him, was once again in that
mood in which he had of yore committed acts of folly.
A few weeks later Senior-lieutenant Reimers had a consultation with the
surgeon-major, Dr. Andreae.
"What you tell me, doctor," he said at the end, "is very much like a
death-sentence, so far as a man's domestic happiness is concerned. He
must never hope to found a family?"
"No," replied Andreae; "a decent man does not marry under such
circumstances. If he does, he commits a crime, consciously or
unconsciously, not only upon a woman, but upon his children."
"Thank you, doctor." And Reimers would have taken leave, but Andreae
stopped him at the door.
"I beg of you, my dear Reimers," he said, "not to take too tragic a
view of your case. I assure you, many men in like circumstances make
out a very tolerable existence. Among the younger men of the present
generation the average is enormously high, though fortunately most
cases are not so serious as yours. Quite alarmingly high, the average,
to us doctors.
"But after all, life is not entirely concerned with this one relation
to the other sex. Those who find themselves cut off from domestic
happiness in this particular are often most excellent officers. In
peace they can devote themselves entirely to their profession without
other distractions; so that it benefits somewhat, as does the Catholic
Church by the services of her celibate priesthood. And in active
warfare it seems to me that such men must enjoy something of the
fatalism of Islam. All is not lost, my dear fellow! I hear everywhere
the greatest praise of your capacity and talents as an officer. So be
brave, and throw the others as mere ballast behind you. You have a
guiding star in your profession--is it not so?"
Reimers nodded.
"You are right, doctor," he said, "and I am much obliged to you."
He looked weary and broken as he went out at the door. In a thoughtless
moment he had destroyed his one chance of happiness. That moment he
must expiate, and he knew he was strong enough to bear the burden.
But it seemed to him that it was not this alone that had decided his
fate. He felt as though a grey veil had descended over his whole
future; even over all that in his imagination had elevated him above
the more sordid chances of destiny.
Could this be because that star to which the doctor had pointed him was
losing its brilliancy?
Gloomily he trod the woodland path to the town. Down below in a field
behind the barracks an old sergeant was giving the assistant trumpeters
a lesson. The lads blew forth a horribly ill-tuned unison. Then the
sergeant set his own trumpet to his lips, and the notes of the
dismissal rang clearly through the air:--
[Illustration: (musical score)]
The signal that in the man[oe]uvres indicated the close of each
evolution.