Niels Heinrich hesitated a few minutes before he entered the room.
It happened to be empty, so that he was alone for a little while. In
this short time he succeeded in getting possession of the string of
pearls.
When Niels Heinrich arrived, Christian was just about to accompany the
student Lamprecht for a walk. He desired to engage him as Michael’s
teacher, and he could not speak quite openly to him in the boy’s
presence. He was startled and found it difficult to control himself. To
leave at this moment seemed hazardous. Niels Heinrich, who was moody
and irresponsible, might not await his return, nor was it advisable to
leave him alone with Michael. On the other hand, Christian had waited
with electrically charged nerves for this important interview. He had
waited from day to day, and he desired to gather his inner forces
and subdue the excitement which Niels Heinrich’s silent entering had
caused him. That would take time, and his indecision and embarrassment
increased while he addressed Niels Heinrich courteously and asked
him to be seated. At that moment the door opened again, and Johanna
Schöntag came in. Christian received her eagerly, and in over-hasty
words begged her to stay with Michael until his return; then he would
go to the other flat with Herr Engelschall, with whom he had matters to
discuss. Johanna was surprised at his impetuousness, and also looked in
surprise at Niels Heinrich. Her expression showed very clearly that she
didn’t know who the man was, and so Christian was obliged to introduce
the two to each other. That seemed to him so absurd a proceeding that
he only murmured the names hesitantly. Niels Heinrich grinned; and when
Christian begged to be excused for a little while, he shrugged his
shoulders.
The echo of Christian’s and Lamprecht’s steps had hardly died away in
the courtyard when Johanna turned to Michael and said: “I was coming
in to ask you to go with me to the Memorial Church in Charlottenburg.
Cantatas of Bach will be sung. Do come; you have probably never heard
anything like it. This gentleman will be so kind as to tell Herr
Wahnschaffe where we have gone.” She looked at Niels Heinrich, but
lowered her eyes at once. He gave her a feeling of profound discomfort.
She had felt that discomfort the moment she had entered, and after
Christian had gone, it had become so violent that she had made her
proposal to Michael solely in order to avoid this hateful presence
at any cost. She had had a vague intention earlier of attending the
concert, but had dropped it again. The thought of taking the boy along
had occurred to her but now.
“Charlottenburg, Memorial Church--all right, I’ll tell him,” Niels
Heinrich said, and crossed his legs. He had been gazing at Michael
uninterruptedly, and his gaze had been growing more and more sombre.
Michael had been conscious of a feeling quite akin to Johanna’s, but
he endured bravely the yellow heat of those eyes. His fingers played
nervously with a piece of paper on the table; his mind was seeking a
hint, an image, a lost thread; he nodded at Johanna without looking at
her, and followed her silently when she touched his arm. She had taken
his hat and coat from the hook, and so they went.
Issuing from the house they saw Christian at the nearest corner,
standing with Lamprecht under a lantern. Hastily they walked in the
opposite direction.
Niels Heinrich got up. He lit a cigarette, and strode up and down with
clicking steps. He stopped in front of a chest of drawers and tried
each drawer. He did that mechanically, without curiosity and without
definite expectation. The chest had a little top made of small, carved
columns; this, too, contained a drawer. He pulled it open, and started
violently as though he had been stung. Before his eyes lay a heap of
enormous pearls.
Christian had almost forgotten them in the unlocked little drawer.
Several days after Karen’s death Botho von Thüngen had told him that
he was going to Frankfort. Members of his family were gathering there
and a conference was to be held. Christian thought of taking advantage
of this opportunity to send the pearls to his mother. A dreamy memory
of their high value made him hesitate to entrust them to the mails.
Thüngen had declared himself most willing to undertake the commission;
but he never went to Frankfort. His relatives cast him off mercilessly;
they were trying to get the courts to declare him irresponsible; their
hue and cry robbed him of all repose, of every home, of all work. He
was stripped of all means, and he had not been able to hold the woman
whom he had married. She had fallen into deeper degradation than that
from which he had sought to save her. In this utter distress of his,
Christian had become his sole refuge and support.
Thus, in his anxiety over his friend, Christian had scarcely thought of
the pearls for days. Though he had that faint memory of their value, no
authentic impulse bade him secure them more carefully than in that open
drawer, where Niels Heinrich’s furtive instinct had discovered them.
A long, slow, astonished whistle; a quivering of the emaciated cheeks;
a look of hunger and one of criminal determination. Then a hesitation,
as though even this marvellous treasure were of no import any more;
and then again a burning in his eyes. The pearls promised unheard-of
delights. And then again disgust: what for? He must fight out his
conflict with this man. Behind him was a ravenous pack: witnesses,
spies, hints, accomplices, and also the dog, the cellar, the blood, the
body, the head, the Little Maggot hanged by the cord of her petticoat.
And face to face with him was this man. We’ll see; we’ll measure our
strength.
He reflected for some moments; then he flung out both hands, and the
pearls were in his possession. There was a soft clinking, a gathering
up, a shoving, and they disappeared in his trousers pocket. The pocket
stuck out, but his coat hid the fact. If the man looked into the drawer
and raised an alarm, why, one could fling the stuff back at him.
When Christian returned, Niels Heinrich was sitting on a chair and
smoking.