Mr. Hahn, Sr., having satisfied himself as to his son's sincerity,
retired to his private chamber; not for the purpose of going to rest,
however, but in order to make an elaborate toilet, having completed
which, he hailed a droschke and drove to an obscure little street in
the Friedrich-Wilhelm Stadt, where he ordered the coachman to stop. As
he was preparing to dismount, he saw to his astonishment another
droschke driving away from the door which he was intending to enter.
"Hm," growled Hahn, "if she has been making acquaintances, she isn't
the girl I took her for. But there are other people living in the
house, and the visit may not have been for her."
Clinging fondly to this hope, he climbed with wary steps two flights
of dark and narrow stairs, which was no easy feat for an elderly
gentleman of his bulk. As he reached the second landing, panting and
breathless, he found himself in violent contact with another person,
who, like himself, seemed to be fumbling for the bell-handle.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said a voice in the dark.
"What, you sneaking young villain!" cried Hahn in great wrath (for the
voice was only too familiar to him); "I might have known you were up
to some devilish trick, or you wouldn't--"
Here the senior Hahn choked, and was seized with a violent coughing
fit.
"You miserable old sinner!" hissed Fritz; "the devil has already got
his finger on your throat."
This was too much for Mr. Hahn; he made a rush for his rival, and in a
moment he and Fritz were grappling furiously in the dark. It seemed
about an even chance who was to be precipitated down the steep
staircase; but just as the father was within an inch of the dangerous
edge, the hall door was torn open, and Mother Uberta, followed by Ilka
with a lamp in her hand, sprang forward, grasped the combatants in her
strong arms and flung them against the opposite wall. They both fell
on the floor, but each managed, without serious injury, to extricate
himself from the other's embrace.
"You are a fine, well-behaved lot, you are!" broke out Mother Uberta,
planting herself, with arms akimbo, in front of the two culprits, and
dispensing her adjectives with equal liberality to both.
"It was a mistake, madam, I assure you," said Hahn huskily, as he
pulled out his handkerchief, and began to whip the dust off his
trowsers.
The wreath of thin hair which he had carefully combed, so as to make
the nakedness of his crown less conspicuous, was bristling toward all
the points of the compass. His tall hat had gone on an independent
journey down the stairs, and was heard tumbling deliberately from step
to step. Fritz, who had recovered himself much more rapidly, seemed to
have forgotten that he had himself borne any part in the disgraceful
scene; he looked at his father with kind of a pitying superiority, and
began to assist him in the repair of his toilet, with the air of an
officious outsider, all of which the crest-fallen father endured with
great fortitude. He seemed only anxious to explain the situation to
the two women, who were still viewing him with marked disapproval.
"It was all a mistake, madam--a great mistake," he kept repeating.
"A great mistake!" ejaculated Mother Uberta, contemptuously. "This
isn't a time to be makin' mistakes outside the door of two lonely
women."
"It is fifteen minutes past nine," said Hahn meekly, pulling a
corpulent gold watch from the pocket of his waistcoat.
"Madam," said Fritz, without the slightest air of apology, "I came
here to consult you on a matter of business, which would bear no
delay."
"Exactly, exactly," interrupted Hahn eagerly. "So did I, a matter of
business which would bear no delay."
"Well, _Väterchen_, we are simple countrywomen, and we don't
understand city manners. But if you want to see me on business, I
shall be at home to-morrow at twelve o'clock."
So saying, Mother Uberta slammed the door in the faces of her
visitors, and left them to grope their way in the dark down the steep
stairway. It was highly characteristic, both of the senior and the
junior Hahn, that without a word of explanation they drove home
amicably in the same droschke.
Ilka's engagement at the "Haute Noblesse" in the autumn had proved a
great success, and Mother Uberta, who was never averse to earning
money, had, without difficulty, been persuaded to remain in Berlin
during the winter, on condition of the renewal of their contract for
another six weeks in the spring. Ilka was in the meanwhile to take
lessons in singing at Hahn's expense, possibly with a view to future
distinction as a prima donna of the opera. Her _maestro_ had told her
repeatedly that she had naturally a better voice than Nilsson, and
that, if she could dry up for ever her fountain of tears, she might
become a great _artiste_. For Ilka had the deplorable habit of crying
on very slight provocation. The _maestro_, with his wild hair, his
long, polished nails, and his frantic gesticulations, frightened and
distressed her; she thought and spoke of him as a kind of curious
animal, and nothing could persuade her that he and she belonged to the
same species. Nor did Mr. Hahn and Fritz seem to her more than half
human. Their constant presents and attentions sometimes annoyed, and
frequently alarmed her. She could not rid herself of the apprehension,
that behind their honeyed words and manners they were hiding some
sinister purpose. She could not comprehend how her mother could talk
so freely and fearlessly with them. She thought of Hansel, who was
away in the war, and many an evening she stood outside the
telegraph-office with a quaking heart, waiting for the bulletin with
the names of the dead and the wounded; but Hansel's name was never
among them. And many a night she lay awake, yearning for Hansel,
praying for him, and blessing him. She seemed to hear his gay and
careless laugh ringing from Alp to Alp--how different from the polite
smirk of the junior, the fat grin of the senior Hahn! She saw his
tall, agile figure standing upon a rock leaning upon his gun, outlined
against the blue horizon,--and she heard his strong clear voice
yodling and calling to her from afar. It is not to be wondered at that
Ilka did not thrive in Berlin as well as her mother did; just as the
tender-petaled alpine rose can only breathe the cool breezes of its
native mountains, and withers and droops if transplanted to a garden.
Mother Uberta was by no means blind to the fact that both Fritz and
his father had designs on her daughter, and having convinced herself
that their prosperity rested on a solid basis, she was not disinclined
to favor their suits. The only difficulty was to make a choice between
them; and having ascertained that Fritz was entirely dependent upon
his father's bounty, she quickly decided in favor of the father. But
she was too wise to allow Mr. Hahn to suspect that he was a desirable
son-in-law, being rather addicted to the belief that men only worship
what seems utterly beyond their reach. Ilka, it is needless to say,
was not a party to these speculations; to her the Hahns appeared
equally undesirable in any capacity whatsoever.
As for the proprietor of the "Haute Noblesse," I believe he was
suffering from an honest infatuation. He admired Ilka's face, he
admired her neck, her figure, her voice, her ankles as displayed by
the short Tyrolese skirt; he wandered about in a sort of frenzy of
unrest, and was never happy except in her presence. That a certain
amount of speculation entered into love's young dream, I cannot
positively deny; but, on the whole, the emotion was as sincere as any
that Mr. Hahn's bosom had ever harbored. Whether he should allow her
to sing in public after she had become his wife was a point about
which he sometimes worried, but which he ended by deciding in the
affirmative. It was a splendid investment for the "Haute Noblesse."
Mr. Fritz's matrimonial speculations took a somewhat different turn.
He raved to his friends about the perfection of Ilka's physical
development; talked about her "points" as if she had been a horse. So
much of cynicism always mingled with his ardor that his devotion could
hardly be dignified by the name of love. He was convinced that if he
could keep Ilka for some years in Berlin and persuade her to continue
cultivating her voice, she would some day be a great prima donna. And
Fritz had an idea that prima donnas always grew immensely rich, and
married worthless husbands whom they allowed great liberties in
financial matters. Fritz had no objection to playing this subordinate
part, as long as he could be sure of "having a good time." Beyond this
point his ambition had never extended. In spite of his great
confidence in his own irresistibility, and his frequent boasts of the
favors he had received from the maiden of his choice, he knew in his
heart that his wooing had so far been very unprosperous, and that the
prospects for the future were not encouraging. Ilka could never rid
herself of the impression that Fritz was to be taken very
seriously,--that, in fact, there was something almost awful about him.
She could laugh at old Hahn's jokes, and if he attempted to take
liberties she could push him away, or even give him a slap on his
broad back. But Fritz's talk frightened her by its very
unintelligibility; his mirth seemed terrible; it was like hearing a
man laugh in his sleep; and his touch made her shudder.