Every one, perhaps, may not know what such a commersh is. It is a
solemn festival of a special sort, at which students meet together who
are of one district or brotherhood (Landsmannschaft). Almost all who
take part in the commersh wear the time-honoured costume of German
students: Hungarian jackets, big boots, and little caps, with bands
round them of certain colours. The students generally assemble to a
dinner, presided over by their senior member, and they keep up the
festivities till morning--drinking, singing songs, ‘Landesvater,’
‘Gaudeamus,’ etc., smoking, and reviling the Philistines. Sometimes
they hire an orchestra.
Just such a commersh was going on in L., in front of a little inn, with
the sign of the Sun, in the garden looking on to the street. Flags were
flying over the inn and over the garden; the students were sitting
at tables under the pollard lime-trees; a huge bull-dog was lying
under one of the tables; on one side, in an ivy-covered arbour, were
the musicians, playing away zealously, and continually invigorating
themselves with beer. A good many people had collected in the street,
before the low garden wall; the worthy citizens of L. could not let
slip a chance of staring at visitors. I too mingled in the crowd of
spectators. I enjoyed watching the students’ faces; their embraces,
exclamations, the innocent affectations of youth, the fiery glances,
the laughter without cause--the sweetest laughter in the world--all
this joyous effervescence of young, fresh life, this eager pushing
forward--anywhere, so long as it’s forward--the simple-hearted freedom
moved me and stirred me.
‘Couldn’t I join them?’ I was wondering.…
‘Acia, have you had enough of it?’ I heard a man’s voice say suddenly,
in Russian, just behind me.
‘Let’s stay a little longer,’ answered another voice, a woman’s, in the
same language.
I turned quickly round.… My eyes fell on a handsome young man in a
peaked cap and a loose short jacket. He had on his arm a young girl,
not very tall, wearing a straw hat, which concealed all the upper part
of her face.
‘You are Russians,’ fell involuntarily from my lips.