FRITZI AND ANOTHER CONVERSATION
When Jim Deming returned he resumed sway over Villa Elsa, though
with less vehemence. The Buchers fell promptly again under his
spell, the duos were dropped, and Gard retired into the attic for
study, varying its monotony with sojourns in town to familiarize
himself with the personal peculiarities of the German multitude.
During the long break-up of winter, when the Teuton skies were
leaden, and it was neither cold enough nor hot enough to stay
comfortably in his room, owing to the Bucher economy of heat in this
mid-season, it was pleasanter to be stirring about _en ville_, and,
when weary of this, seeking the agreeable cosiness of the cafés with
their warmth of cooking and beverages that thawed one out. He
usually lunched in some one of these well-known resorts where he
became acquainted with the _personnel_ and frequenters. It was
Deming who introduced him to the inn where Fritzi served, whom Von
Tielitz and Messer had urged upon Gard's attentions. Jim had learned
of it through the former.
Imagine the tiniest of restaurants. It was scarcely large enough for
six small tables. The miniature kitchen immediately adjoined this
dining nook, so that these two rooms were in effect one. When the
two young Americans first went there together, a very comely girl
sat cutting colored papers into fantastic shapes with the apparent
intention of having more floral decorations. For huge artificial
bouquets decked the boards. The place was freshly painted and
engagingly clean. The very low walls were covered with queer mottoes
in grotesque Gothic script, with Meissen wares, Vienna glass, and
also misshapen oddities that always interest the puerile part of
mature German nature.
There was a bust of the Emperor covered with ivy and flower
concoctions in cardboard. The coat of arms of Saxony embellished the
ceiling which one could almost touch with the upraised hand. A cat
and a dog were taking their noon-day nap. Sausages and cake in the
form of the ever-popular _Lebkuchen_ were made a specialty of here,
and when Fritzi--for this was Fritzi--had served the young men she
took a seat companionably by them, as became her rôle.
She had a rustic beauty and was sound and plump as a cherry. Her
peasant headdress was high and elaborate, winged with chicken
feathers, and her short skirts gave way before white stockings
pulpily emerging from painted wooden shoes which clicked over the
dull tiled floor.
By the table she knitted, watching the eating solicitously, and was
by turns candid, sociable and saucy as a spoiled child. It was her
business not to be affronted by familiar remarks and actions. She
was there to draw trade. She knew how to drop quick curtsies in
response to compliments and tips. Although Deming acted freely
toward her like an old acquaintance, he could not make much headway
owing to the bar of language--her jargon of dialect.
Gard, when touched with loneliness, went there several times and
struck up quite an intimacy with her, the proprietor and his wife.
It was a snug spot and she was picturesque. The _Lebkuchen_ and
famous sausages, which would have been a deadly combination in
America, seemed to agree with him, soothed with beer. While Fritzi
appeared _keck_ at intervals, Gard did not see any excuse for
agreeing with the scandalous hints Von Tielitz and Messer threw out
about her. They would naturally see the wench in every domestic.
It was from the inn that Kirtley frequently went to Anderson's for
the afternoon. Gard had found it desirable to write down in a
notebook some of the facts and reflections he was accumulating on
the subject of the German. He would want to show them to his old
tutor when home was reached again. Among them, Anderson's ideas and
comments were included, flanked by an occasional apothegm.
Gard copied off a sample of their many talks in somewhat the
abridged form as given below. It was when, on one of these days,
Kirtley learned that Anderson had moved, and traced him to his new
abode. From the window of this apartment they could see, through the
bleary March light, the dowager-like Grosse Garten where Deming
paraded in style with Frau Bucher and Fräulein. Although the trees
and shrubbery were now so gaunt and chilly of aspect, soon they
would be green and gay with beautiful spring, and Anderson would
find them cheering.
"I _am_ getting old," he said. "I have never wanted May to hurry up
so much as this year. Here I can get a good view and the birds will
come and nest in these branches. They will whistle to me. I can fill
my pocket with crumbs and go out and make their acquaintance in the
sunshine and flowers. Since the war failed me again, I can see that
my friends pull away from me. They doubtless think that no one is
more worthless than a prophet who cannot pull off his 'stunt' and
has short gray hair in the bargain. Everyone is blissfully lolling
in the embraces of enduring tranquillity and I am seeking the
companionship of trees and birds that are not troubled with the
machinations and delusions of mankind.
"So there will be this delightful summer of 1914 ahead. Christian
civilization is spreading rapidly everywhere. More Bibles being sold
than ever. More Hottentots and cannibals wearing clothes and losing
their taste for human flesh. And so universal Peace has come to
stay. There will not be another war.
"And yet the Dresden barracks were never so full of soldiers, and
the German bases of military supplies are crammed. The munition
factories are running on extra-time schedules. Has the world turned
topsy-turvy or have I? Does what one actually see and hear have no
meaning any more?"
"Why do you stay in Germany?" asked Gard. "The Germans antagonize
you. And you look upon their Government as a wicked monster prepared
to leap upon its innocent prey?"
"For about the same reasons that you remain at the Buchers'. Because
it's so often exasperating here. And that's always exciting. I guess
it's the Irish strain in us. Want to stick around where there's a
good prospect for trouble--want something to swear at. And I
consider it my duty to remain here as a sign post of warning. I am
carrying about a small red flag with DANGER on it. If the Germans
win command of the world, I will be here on the ground all ready to
start in as a German and will have a great advantage over nearly all
Yankees. I have conned my green book of irregular verbs, which I
think would bother most of them considerably. I have got accustomed
to the German eating and drinking which I imagine would prove the
death of most of them, too. I have learned to sleep athwart the
German bed--no small feat, as you know. For everything must become
Germanized under German rule. Teutons know no other method."
"Is that the meaning of the sort of happy, triumphant feeling that
one finds in Germany? It seems to pervade the whole Empire--rich and
poor, merchant and peasant, housewife and children."
"Yes, because they know a victorious war is coming and they will all
be lords and masters. The Empire will stretch out wide and there
will be work at the highest wages and plenty of money. The German
will be able to travel on his own railroads throughout most of
Europe and Turkey. No matter how servile he may be at home, everyone
will kowtow to him abroad.
"It will be a short, decisive campaign. It will cost some blood and
some treasure, but then--the German millennium! The people a eager,
ripe, fit for it. The coveted Government jobs will be more numerous
and remunerative. They will confer more power on the incumbents,
for they will be largely connected with conquered provinces. The
German Michel will be no longer cramped up in his mid-continent."...