The finches were the maddest of all. The titmice, too, made a racket,
and so did the nuthatches, and the blackbirds behaved as if they were
lords of the place, while the stay-at-home starlings formed in groups
among themselves and paid no attention to the rest of the world. Beside,
there were the hedge-sparrows and wrens, who added a fair share to the
chorus. But the fanfare of the finches was too much for ears accustomed
to the tiny twittering of a caged canary.
Old Haberland knew them all. Old Haberland was the gardener, who
pottered about in felt shoes and lived, in a measure, from the colonel's
bounty, since he held sway now over nothing but the lawn sprinkler. He
knew which birds nested on the ground and which in the branches. He knew
the time each began to sing and the best place to stand if you wanted to
study their plumage and habits.
It was terrible to think that the squirrels had to be shot. Lilly almost
hated the old man when he sallied forth, his pea-rifle under his jacket,
with evil intent against the jolly little marauders--Haberland
maintained the vermin recognised his gun and scurried off when they saw
it. The magpies and jays were no friends of his, either. His love was
the shy, green woodpecker, whom he had actually coaxed into nesting in
the park. And that gay marvel of a bird, the hoopoe, came without fear
at any hour of the day to the back of the castle, where it sang its
hututu and transfixed the insects in the grass with its curved sabre of
a bill.
Those were mornings full of glow and brilliance, such as could not have
been since the creation of the world.
When you opened the door at five o'clock in the morning the cool purple
mist crept in and folded itself about your body like a royal mantle. On
the pond, where the reeds rose up over night, pushed by underground
powers, lay sunlit vapours, which gradually lifted and ascended
heavenward. Everything steamed. Sometimes white lights seemed to have
been kindled on the lawn, and the little clouds in evaporating rolled
heavily from the glistening campions, as though surfeited with the dew
they had drunk.
Such mornings!
Who can describe the mad delight of the dogs when their beautiful young
mistress appeared on the steps smiling, clad in a white blouse and short
skirt and armed with garden shears? They had been awaiting her there a
long time, every now and then emitting short, impatient sounds, half
whine, half yelp. For _they_ had not hesitated an instant to recognise
her absolute rule, in utter disregard of the pitying benevolence with
which Miss von Schwertfeger--whom they detested--stood by and smiled.
Bebel, the terrier, the cleverest of all, did not count, because he sped
after the colonel on his early cross-country gallop. But there was
Pluto, the long-eared setter, who, out of employment at this season,
gave chase to the rabbits on his own account. There were Schnauzl, the
poodle, and Bobbie, the dachs, living in constant feud with each other
for the first place in Lilly's favour. Dearest of all was Regina, the
panther-like Great Dane, one of whose forelegs had been broken. As if to
apologize for her disgraced existence, she always crept back of anyone
she met; but at night, to compensate, she was untiring in her
watchfulness, and maintained a steady reign of terror.
Who can describe the joyous caracoling of the colts in the pasture, the
craving for love the yearling manifested when the mistress, who always
carried sugar with her, pushed back the bars, and stretched her arms to
caress the slender heads of her favourites?
Who can describe the chagrin of the turkey cock, great enough when the
pheasants got first peck at the bread crumbs, but knowing no bounds when
those stupid ducks squatted right on Lilly's feet, as though that were
the most natural thing in the world? At times his jealousy so swelled
him with rage that he even dared to nab one of Pluto's ears. But Pluto
disdained to do more than shake him off in scorn.
Yes, those were wonderful mornings!
And when the height of the flowering season came, she never wearied of
wandering about and filling baskets with blue, golden and snowy blossoms
until she was fairly drowned in a floral sea.
After the morning stroll came breakfast, when from sheer joy and
tenderness Lilly hesitated about whose neck first to throw her arms, the
colonel's or Anna's--on certain confidential occasions she was called
Anna. Lilly, in general, was very affectionate with Miss von
Schwertfeger, despite her fear of that lady's censoriousness and despite
other fears of which she could not rid herself.
Yes, she thought, it was a strict school, indeed, which she had entered.
Not a word, not a step, not a movement remained unobserved, or, if
necessary, unreproved. She learned to sit at table and in an arm-chair,
how to prepare and serve tea, how to invite a person to be seated, how
to begin a conversation, how to introduce strangers to each other
without getting into a muddle, how to pass over forgotten names, and
offer everybody at table a fair portion of cordiality. All these things
Lilly learned, and, oh, much more.
But they were only the rudiments to be practised in the small world of
the castle or when occasional visitors dropped in. Real instruction was
to begin in the fall; for then expeditions to neighboring estates would
be undertaken. In the meantime the colonel wished to avoid all contact
with the families round about. He could do this without provoking
comment, his long bachelorhood serving as a plausible pretext for
wishing to prolong his honeymoon to the utmost.
By autumn Lilly was to have been converted into a veritable _grand
dame_, who would do honour to her husband's name and rank, and whose
tact and ease would conquer all mistrust whether at the festivities in
the homes of the gentry or in the club house.
This, the highest ideal on earth, Miss von Schwertfeger kept before
Lilly's eyes every minute of the day, and Lilly dreamed of it as she had
dreamed of approaching examinations when in the Selecta. Full of fears
and doubts she worked over herself night and day.
Her soul found calm only when she went on one of her rambles, or, better
still, when she sat behind locked doors in her boudoir.
No, no, Heaven preserve her! Not her boudoir! That wasn't its name.
The first time she had said "boudoir," Miss von Schwertfeger turned very
condescending. It was a sitting-room. Only butchers' and bankers'
wives--in Miss von Schwertfeger's eyes one and the same--would disfigure
it with the other name.
Thus Lilly stumbled at every step.
Occasionally, when he quartered officers on their way through the
country, the colonel, as if to test Lilly's social ability, would have
her preside at table with Miss von Schwertfeger's assistance.
Each time the same scene was enacted. At first Lilly would be stiff as a
mechanical doll, incapable of addressing a word she had not learned by
rote to these guests gleaming in military resplendence. A glass or two
of wine would give her courage. Gradually she would liven up, and even
grow merry, and finally bubble over with harmless pleasantries--from
where they came flying into her head she did not know--which would so
enrapture the gentlemen, most of whom were well past their prime, that
they directed all their remarks to her, as if to pay her court, while
their eyes hung on her face in enjoyment and desire.
Now the colonel would grow uneasy. He would cast furtive glances at Miss
von Schwertfeger, who usually sat with her eyes on her plate and a wry
smile on her lips; and then despite the gentlemen's protestations of
regret, the ladies would leave the table.
Lilly grew hot with the fire she herself had kindled in the heads of her
guests. It caused her pleasure and distress, and forced her to sit at
her window until midnight, staring into the blue twilight of the park
with beating heart and quivering nerves and flushed cheeks streaming
with tears.
Forebodings of mad acts and riotous self-abandon flashed up in her
brain. A parching fever enervated her body. Her clothes, her room, the
park, the world became too contracted. A wild dance of looks and flames,
a whirl of fiery red, inured, desirous masculinity chased through her
head.
On such nights, when the guests had at last retired, the colonel, more
or less intoxicated, would force himself into her bedroom, and begin by
reproaching her for not having been ladylike enough. Lilly would cry and
try to excuse herself. Then he would kiss the tears from her lashes,
snatch her clothes from her body, and throw himself next to her in bed.
Shuddering with foolish pangs of conscience, quivering in disgust of his
drunkenness, happy, nevertheless, to feel that tormenting tenseness
relax, she gave her body up to him.
On other nights when she felt uneasy and alone and desired his presence,
when her body as well as her soul longed to cling to him in the humble
sense of belonging to him entirely, then he was not to be had. He kept
his door locked.
On the whole he was loving and gracious to her. He handled her as if she
were a gay, fragile toy, to be wound up not too often, and each time it
has been played with enough, to be laid aside carefully for use on the
next occasion. This treatment suited her. At least she was spared dread
of those outbursts of wrath which set the walls a-tremble two or three
times a day, and frightened every living thing in the vicinity. Even
Miss von Schwertfeger was not sure how to take them. She silently set
her teeth, and bowed her head as before the inevitable.
Lilly could never fathom the relation existing between the colonel and
his housekeeper. Usually it seemed to her the many years of mutual
confidence had welded them together inseparably. Then came times when
they studiously avoided each other, the colonel in haughty preoccupation
with his own affairs, Miss von Schwertfeger squinting sarcastically and
suggesting by her manner a feeling of rancor, a menace.
Now and then it even occurred to Lilly that when the lady had been young
and fair, she had been the colonel's love. But Lilly dismissed this
idea. Miss von Schwertfeger was far too proud to endure the bitterness
of such companionship, and _he_ was too dominating to tolerate the
presence of such a creditor.
All that Lilly learned of her past was that she was the daughter of a
poor yet aristocratic army officer, and had been left an orphan with her
own living to earn after her confirmation. She had now been managing the
colonel's household for nearly twenty years. The fact that Miss von
Schwertfeger, homeless and without resources, like herself, had also
been thrown upon the colonel's tender mercies gradually aroused in Lilly
a sense of sympathy and kinship, although she could never cast off a
slight feeling that she must be on her guard against this woman.
She really owed Miss von Schwertfeger a debt of gratitude. Without her
ready advice, Lilly would have fallen innumerable times from the road
leading to the lofty heights where she would sit enthroned as aristocrat
and lady of a manor. Ridiculers would have taken base advantage of her
modesty; her sportive manner of equality would have invited
impertinence; she would have ended in losing every vestige of power.
Perhaps people would even have come to despise her.
As it was, everybody loved her. She found shining glances to greet her
in the kitchen, in the stables, among the villagers, and at the lodge;
while in the barn, where the Polish women dwelt behind smouldering
brushwood and drying wash, she was a veritable idol.
Whether a rumor had gotten about of her Slavic name, or her Catholicism,
could not be determined. However that might be, the fact remained that
these strange, despised people, who glided among the stiff and haughty
Germans with the humble look of a child in their eyes and the plaintive
melodies of their country on their lips, revered Lilly as their redeemer
and patron saint.
She liked to busy herself with the gentle, good-natured folk. She
visited the sick, and cared for the destitute. The girls seemed to her
like poor sisters, who needed watching over; and as for the boys, why,
they were a charge that God Himself had put into her keeping.
Miss von Schwertfeger looked askance at these kindly attentions. "The
people belonging to the place," she said, "are beginning to complain
that you prefer the immigrants to them. You would do well to take your
walks in another direction."
Lilly remonstrated. Henceforth Miss von Schwertfeger kept close watch,
and did not leave her side when the barn dwellings happened to be in
seductive proximity.
Miss von Schwertfeger even converted Lilly to Protestantism.
Not in her soul. Heaven forefend!
"Love your Holy Virgin and your St. Joseph as much as you want to," she
said, "but just remove that font and those little images from your
bedside. As for going to church, you may drive to Krammen to attend mass
on Sunday; of course you may; the colonel would not think of forbidding
you to. But take my advice, dearest, and sit next to us in our pew. Do
it for my sake, you won't regret it."
Lilly did not offer much resistance, and by way of reward received a
small altar to keep in her room. When locked, it looked like a dainty
jewel casket, but inside was the infant Jesus in the arms of the Madonna
and--oh joy!--there was St. Joseph on the left leaf of the folding door,
and St. Anne on the right leaf.
Lilly wept with delight.
Nevertheless she could not love the donor with all her heart and all her
soul. No matter how often they sat together chatting confidentially,
Lilly remained in solitude.
And in fear.
She did not dare even to eat her fill. As if to make up for Mrs.
Asmussen's long-forgotten mush, Lilly had developed a ravenous appetite;
but noticing Miss von Schwertfeger's apprehensive sidelooks at her
heaped plate, she usually rose from table only half satisfied. To stay
herself until the next meal she drew upon the treasures of the
storeroom.
Old Maggie the cook, in whom she possessed a sworn ally, kept watch to
warn Lilly of Miss von Schwertfeger's approach. Once, however, the
omnipotent housekeeper caught her there, and Lilly dished up the excuse
that she wanted to learn housekeeping; which declaration was received
with condescending merriment.
Had it not been for old Maggie, Lilly would never have learned a single
detail of the management of the large household, Miss von Schwertfeger
studiously keeping her from regular activity of any sort, whether out of
vainglory or consideration Lilly could not determine.
If Lilly wanted to help with a piece of work, it was done already, or
she mustn't spoil her hands, or she might injure herself.
Her passionate desire to learn horseback riding was also thwarted by
Miss von Schwertfeger, who was always discovering signs of approaching
motherhood, though they proved each time to be false.
Even playing on the piano was denied her. The yellow old instrument of
torture, the keys of which resembled the decayed teeth of a smoker--just
like the colonel's--was not to be replaced by a new piano until autumn,
when they would go to Danzig to select one.
She thought of the times preceding her marriage, hardly more than half a
year ago, as belonging to her long-vanished youth. She would have
ridiculed one who had told her, youth still lay ahead of her nineteen
years.
It was good that over there in the lodge a witness of her sweet, foolish
past was living along in madcap thoughtlessness. This alone persuaded
her that her maiden days had not been a mere dream, that she had not
been a colonel's wife from the cradle upward.
In all this time she had met her merry friend only at Sunday dinners,
when he played a comic role making his jerky reverences in his long
frock coat.
Sometimes when standing on her balcony at twilight behind the foliage
now closegrown, she saw him at his window in the lodge cutting capers
with his wild little red fox of a dog. A feeling would then come over
her that the only person who actually belonged to her in this alien
world was yon light-haired good-for-nothing, who pursued all the maids
on the demesne. Old Maggie told tales. At night he would ruin the
toughest horses trying to get back from his secret excursions before
dawn; and in his den behind closed shutters--
At this point Maggie lost her faculty of speech. The things that took
place behind those closed shutters must have been dreadful.