Delightful times followed. A game of hide-and-seek with herself, a
long-drawn draught from an unfailing fount of expectancy, anticipation,
delicious aftertaste and joyous recollections. Each day brought new
pleasures and untold wealth.
Sometimes when Lilly threw open the shutters in the morning and the
fresh red September air flowed in over her she felt as if God had spread
a mantle of sunny gold over the heavens to wrap both of them in, so snug
and close that the whole world disappeared, leaving no one but
themselves behind, pressed against each other in laughter and drunk with
all that light.
She felt she was growing more beautiful from day to day and emanated a
sort of radiance which caused all who met her to look up with a smile of
astonishment and satisfaction, mingled, however, with a touch of
melancholy, such as always comes over us when we see a human being or a
flower developing too happily, too proudly for its glory to endure.
The two High Mightinesses did not keep their eyes closed, either.
The colonel found no formula for such symptoms in his store of
experiences. Had Lilly gone about downcast, staring dreamily into space,
had she crept about him timidly, had she wavered between ardour and
estrangement, his suspicions would have grown lively. He would have
begun to sound and spy on her. But it was not in his power to discern
aught else than increased spiritual well-being in her pliable, blissful
tenderness.
So he smirked complacently at the harmless gaiety his young wife
radiated, and with paternal calm accepted the lavish caresses, which
served as an outlet for her overwrought ecstasy.
Anna von Schwertfeger shared no less benevolently in Lilly's happiness.
She seemed to harbour as little suspicion as the colonel that a third
person was playing a part in her life. Otherwise she would scarcely have
viewed the growing frequency with which the two young people met with
such unbegrudging kindliness.
Often after supper she drew Lilly into the room on the ground floor,
where she dwelt amid her account books. A genuine old maid's home, with
canary birds, flower pots, faded family photographs, and all sorts of
gilt and china knick-knacks, remnants of past glory such as are handed
down from generation to generation in families of decayed gentlefolk.
At other times she came gliding into Lilly's bedroom at an incredibly
late hour, seated herself on the edge of the bed, and did not stir until
she heard the sound of the colonel's carriage coming from the station.
The two women would plunge into profound conversations concerning life
and death, solitary old age and overflowing youth, the measure God has
set for each mortal, and the misfortune of trying to exceed that
measure. Anna von Schwertfeger no longer pried or warned, yet her
fashion of hopping from subject to subject, of heedlessly expressing an
opinion the very reverse of one she had uttered a moment before, seemed
sufficient reason for supposing that her mind was occupied with very,
very different things.
Often while her speech flowed on monotonously Lilly would be astonished
to look up and find her eyes resting on her intently, almost
apprehensively. Then again Lilly would feel herself stroked and kissed
with such pitying inwardliness that she herself was touched, and later,
when left alone, she began to feel afraid of the dark, as if a menacing
fate were crouching at the bottom of her bed ready to pounce on her and
choke her.
But from where was misfortune to drop on her? Wasn't she more securely
stowed away than ever before in her life? Whom did she deceive? Wherein
did she sin? Even if the few little secrets binding her to Walter should
be discovered, how would she be punished? She would simply get a fine
sermon like a naughty child, nothing worse.
Thus she comforted herself before the aftertaste of Miss von
Schwertfeger's late visits was dispelled by new dreams of happiness.
September neared its end.
Lilly went horseback riding with Von Prell almost every day, or she met
him at twilight, as if by chance, in deserted parts of the park. They
would spy each other strolling about some one of the various places they
had fixed upon once for all. Then there was the pea-shooter to fall back
upon in case different arrangements had to be made.
Von Prell had brought the convenient instrument from the city, and it
reposed innocently in a corner of Lilly's balcony, to all appearances
nothing more than a superfluous curtain-rod. It enabled her to blow
whatever message she wanted through the foliage on the balcony directly
into his open window.
Sometimes it was only "Good morning, comrade," sometimes the hour of
meeting, or sometimes a harmless jest, the outgrowth of a moment's
exuberance.
On the evenings the colonel remained at home Von Prell was
usually invited to supper. Though he then assumed his
according-to-rules-and-regulations stiffness, the opportunity for a
little byplay was now always afforded.
Neither Lilly nor Von Prell moved a muscle and the two High Mightinesses
sat there unsuspecting.
But Lilly had a rival whom she feared and detested, because that rival
had the power to draw her "comrade's" attention from her for hours at a
time. The mere mention of the rival's name sufficed to reduce Lilly to
the position of nothing but a lay figure. The rival was--the regiment.
The time of the autumn manoeuvres had come, and both gentlemen read
the papers with feverish interest to see what part was being taken by
their former regiment.
One evening they sent off a picture postal with congratulations to the
regiment. Two days later the reply came, also on a postal, all scribbled
over with names which it required a vast effort to decipher.
Three remained illegible, or, rather, inexplicable, until all of a
sudden Walter lit upon the solution: Von Holten, Dehnicke, Von Berg,
summer lieutenants, who had been called into service for the
manoeuvres and had signed their names along with the other officers.
All but one of the names fell upon Lilly's ear unheeded. "Dehnicke"
struck her as a little odd, because its bourgeois simplicity did not
seem to chime in well with the ringing charm of the old patrician names.
The greeting from out of his past had no benign influence on the
colonel's mood. He grew taciturn, then surly; and Lilly caught a
sidelong glance of his fixed on her, which caused her to start in
terror, it was so wildly, fiercely reproachful.
Thereafter his visits to the neighbouring garrison town grew more
frequent, and despite his painful gout he never refused an invitation to
join a hunt.
* * * * *
It was the first Sunday in October.
The colonel had left at dawn to go to a neighbour with the intention of
not returning until late at night.
A soft grey mist shot with violet suggestions of the sun lay over the
ground when Lilly, bored and writhing internally, came out of church on
Miss von Schwertfeger's arm.
The sunflowers in the tenants' gardens were already sinking their singed
heads and the asters showed signs of having suffered from the murderous
blows of Jack Frost.
But the air was as sweet and spicy as in spring, and from the fields
came a singing as of meadow larks.
"Such a day, such a day!" thought Lilly, and stretched herself in a
vague yearning for secret conversation and glad pranks.
She must have thought a little too loud, for Miss von Schwertfeger
asked:
"What's the matter with to-day?"
"I don't know," replied Lilly, blushing. "I feel as if it were some
festival."
Miss von Schwertfeger looked at her askance and said, emphasising each
word:
"I should like to make a festival of it for myself and visit a friend of
mine in the city. But the colonel is away and I don't know--"
Lilly started so violently that she lost her breath for an instant. But
she mastered herself cleverly and began to persuade Miss von
Schwertfeger, first speaking coolly, then more warmly and urgently. She
needed a little outing; she hadn't left the place all summer; she lived
like a prisoner, and ought to grant herself at least one hour of
freedom.
Miss von Schwertfeger nodded meditatively, and that glassy stare came
into her eyes which always discomfited Lilly.
At the midday meal, which the two took in each other's company, she was
still undecided; but as soon as they rose from table she ordered the
carriage to be brought around and drove off without saying good-by.
Lilly, who watched her departure, ran for the pea-shooter. The foliage
of the creepers still hedged in her little domain so perfectly that Von
Prell could not see her. But she could see him as he sat at the open
window brooding over a book with a deep fold between his brows.
"My good influence," thought Lilly triumphantly, and it almost made her
feel sorry to tear him away from so salutary an occupation.
The inspector and the bookkeeper were walking up and down near the lodge
smoking their Sunday afternoon cigarettes.
So more than ordinary caution was necessary.
The pellet containing her missive hit Von Prell's forehead, rebounded,
and fell on the grass outside the window.
Von Prell had himself so well in hand that he even refrained from
looking up to show he understood. After a while, however, he let the
book fall out of the window as if by accident, and then got up to fetch
it with an indifferent air.
Half an hour later they met behind the carp pond.
He was wearing a new black and white checked fall suit, similar to the
one the fateful stranger in the railroad train had worn.
"You're entirely too elegant," Lilly joked. "I'd rather not be in your
company to-day."
"That would be a sin and a shame," he observed. "I had these trappings
constructed extra for to-day."
"Why for to-day?"
"Because to-day's our festival."
"How did that occur to you?" she faltered, startled that their thoughts
had taken the same course.
"Oh, a person gets notions," he replied, and smiled significantly.
Under the same impulse they took the path leading to the beech grove
which they had wandered through on the first evening of their renewed
friendship.
"How's Tommy?" Lilly asked, recollecting the third party to the
alliance.
"He bit away the flooring in my room and dug a hole for himself, where
he snarls like an eagle-owl. I shouldn't advise you to stick your
wedding-ring finger into his hole. You might suddenly lose your ring and
your finger, too."
"Why have you let him get so wild?" she asked reproachfully.
"Why have I let myself get so wild?" he retorted.
"Well, you're growing tame again," replied Lilly, caressing him with her
eyes. His recent tameness was all her doing.
"Do you think so?" he asked, and drew his brows together masterfully, as
in his lieutenant days.
"Haven't I your word of honour?" she exulted.
"Pshaw!"
Lilly basked in the superbness of her mission of salvation.
"No matter how much you disdain my influence," she replied, "everybody
sees that a change has taken place in you. Mr. Leichtweg says you're
always the first to begin work now. You've borrowed that great book on
agriculture from the colonel--it impressed him tremendously--and Miss
von Schwertfeger said a little while ago you always look so appetizing
now. Yes, Mr. von Prell, I take the credit for all this, and if things
continue the same way we shall remain good friends."
"Apropos of appetizing," he said, "your neck beginning back of your ears
is all covered with tiny, silky hairs. Do you know from what that
comes?"
"Oh, nonsense," Lilly exclaimed, blushing. "Why? Do you know?"
"A wise man has theories. For instance, observe this plot of grass." He
pointed to a clearing below them, through which a rill trickled, and
which was closely grown with tender, juicy grass of a vivid green. "From
the way it looks you'd suppose it was still spring. Until late in the
summer that plot stood under water, and the spots that least often or
never get dry grow the finest down--that's nature."
Lilly was on the point of taking his botany lesson in earnest when she
chanced to notice the wicked grimace he was making. Then she understood
the shameless allusion and had to laugh over it helplessly.
"Listen, baronissima, how about playing tag? We owe it to the
circulation of your excellency's blood."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when with a blithe shout she
darted off down the slope, the bottom of which was lost in the purple
darkness of autumn. But at the end of a short stretch she tripped over
the Scotch plaid she had taken along and had refused to let Von Prell
carry. She fell full length and he came just in time to help her to her
feet.
This having spoiled Lilly's taste for tag they mounted the hill like
well-behaved children.
Here their eyes could travel over a rippling lake of leaves far, far
away. The beeches glowed a deep red, the maples danced in all the
colours of the rainbow, the birches quivered with bright flames, the elm
flaunted its flakes of gold, while the oak alone obstinately retained
its green garb of summer.
Lilly stared into the violet-veiled distance.
The sun hid itself behind gold-rimmed clouds, from which fiery tracks
descended to earth. A narrow band of scarlet edged the horizon.
"Shall we sit down here?" asked Von Prell.
"No, not here," said Lilly, seized with a vague dread. "I'll begin to
cry here."
She ran ahead of him, back into the woods, and came again upon the path
leading along the rill.
Here the darkness of evening prevailed, but the sun-charm in which they
had been enveloped worked its magic here, too, and filled her heart with
a happy devoutness.
Oh, how happy she was! How happy she was!
No fear and no danger so far as her thoughts could reach; and no danger
from her own heart, for the man walking by her side was her friend and
playmate, nothing more. He might not and could not be anything else. No
secret wish, no distorted desire came from him or went to meet him.
Everything uniting him to her was clear and transparent as sunlight.
Even if the others must not have a suspicion of their intercourse, there
was no sin in it--only salvation for him and laughter for her and youth
for both.
She felt a warm-hearted impulse to take his hand, but fearing to be
misunderstood she checked herself.
Thus they walked at each other's side to the spot where the rill was
caught up in a rotting wooden conduit, from which it spouted with a soft
singsong.
Withered ferns covered the light green moss with their ragged red
fronds and tired leaves came fluttering down out of the beech trees.
"Let us rest here," suggested Lilly.
"But it's damp."
"We'll spread the plaid," she said eagerly, taking the blanket from
him--he had managed to snatch it away from her--and threw it over the
fern stalks, which cracked under the weight.
She sat down on the right side of the plaid and invited him to make use
of the left side, to keep his fine new suit clean.
"Do you hear the vesper bells?" he asked. "We ought to be eating supper
now."
"We poor church mice, we have nothing," she laughed.
"Who told you so?" he asked, triumphantly producing a small paper
package from his pocket, which contained a mashed, crumbly piece of
cake. They laid it between them and ate the morsels from their hollowed
hands, laughing all the while. The cake tasted like sweet wine, and
Lilly felicitously hit upon its correct name, punch-tart, of which she
was especially fond.
"The English call it tipsy-cake," he explained. "It quite befuddles
one."
"That amount of intoxication I'll risk," she laughed, and threw herself
on her back, folding her hands behind her head.
She lay there a time without moving and looked up to the sky, of which
jagged oval bits shimmered through the foliage. Rosy flakes swam in the
opalescent ether, and way beyond appeared the vault of another heaven,
which in some places burst through the nearer sky like a deep blue
foreboding.
Lilly stretched her arms upward yearningly.
"Do you want to catch the larks?" he asked.
No, not that, but she would like to have one of the falling leaves.
They kept dropping, dropping from the boughs like birds with broken
wings, and fluttered over the ground in little spirals, as if undecided
where to rest.
"We'll see to which of us the first one comes," he said, and also
stretched himself on his back.
"The one to whom a leaf comes first will be blessed with a great piece
of good fortune," she added.
They lay still and waited.
At last one floated toward him and prepared to settle on his nose.
But he would not permit this--hers must be that great piece of good
fortune--and he blew the leaf back to her.
She in turn was too proud to accept so munificent a gift and blew it
back to him.
Thus laughing and tossing themselves about, they kept the leaf whirling
between them, and suddenly in the heat of the struggle their lips
touched--touched and would not separate.
The next instant they held each other in close embrace, and the instant
after she was his.
* * * * *
The rill purled, the leaves fell as before. But a fiery mist lay upon
the earth, and all over small suns winked rainbow coloured eyes.
Why had it happened?
She fell back without thinking and noticed that the heavens above were
also clothed in fire.
Her comrade sat beside her with his back curved like a berated schoolboy
and rubbed his nails against one another.
"Oh, let's go home," said Lilly, downheartedly.
"As my lady commands," he replied, grotesquely respectful again.
She laughed a weary, mirthless laugh.
Apparently he was concerned with getting rid of what had happened as
speedily as possible.
"Oh, now it's all the same," she sighed; "now we can quite calmly call
each other by our first names."