And now the next evening had come, the time for Baron Botho's promised
visit. Lena was walking up and down in the front garden, but in the
large front room Frau Nimptsch sat as usual by the hearth, while to-day
again the whole Doerr family had grouped themselves around her. Frau
Doerr was knitting with big wooden needles on a blue woolen jacket for
her husband, and the work, as yet quite shapeless, lay on her lap like
a great fleece. Near her, with his legs comfortably crossed, Doerr was
smoking a clay pipe, while his son sat in a big grandfather's chair
close to the window, leaning his red head against the "wing" of the
chair. Every morning he was up by cockcrow, so to-day he had once more
fallen asleep through weariness. There was but little talk, and so
nothing was to be heard but the clicking of the needles and the
chattering of the squirrel, which from time to time came out of his box
and gazed curiously about. The only light came from the fire on the
hearth and the afterglow of the sunset.
Frau Doerr sat so that she could look along the garden path and in spite
of the twilight she could see who was coming along the road, past the
hedge.
"Ah, there he comes," said she. "Now, Doerr, just let your pipe go out.
You are just like a chimney to-day, puffing and smoking all day long.
And such a stinking old pipe as yours is not fit for everyone."
Doerr did not let such speeches trouble him much and before his wife
could say any more or repeat her verdict, the Baron came in. He was
visibly mellow, as he had just come from a punch bowl, which had been
the subject of a wager at the club, and said, as he took Frau
Nimptsch's hand: "Good evening, mother. I hope all is well with you.
Ah, and Frau Doerr; and Herr Doerr, my favorite old friend. See here,
Doerr, what do you say to the weather? Specially ordered for you and for
me too. My meadows at home, that are under water four years out of five
and bear nothing but crow's foot, such weather will do them good. And
it will do Lena good too; she can stay out of doors more; she is
growing too pale to suit me."
Meanwhile Lena had drawn up a wooden chair near her old mother, because
she knew that this was Baron Botho's favorite place; but Frau Doerr, who
was fully impressed with the idea that a Baron must occupy the seat of
honor, had meanwhile risen, and with the blue fleecy mass trailing
after her, she called out to her stepson: "Will you get up! I say, now.
If there is nothing in him, it's no use to expect anything from him."
The poor boy stood up, all stupid and sleepy and was going to give up
his seat, but the Baron would not allow it. "For heaven's sake, dear
Frau Doerr, leave the poor boy alone. I would far rather sit on a bench;
like my friend Doerr here."
And therewith he pushed the chair, which Lena still had ready for him,
beside the old mother and said as he sat down:
"Here beside Frau Nimptsch is the best place. I know of no other
fireplace that I am as fond of; there is always fire, always warmth.
Yes, Mutterchen, that is true, this is the best place."
"Oh my soul," said the old woman. "This is the best place! In an old
washerwoman's house."
"Certainly. And why not? Every class and calling is worthy of respect.
And a washerwoman too. Do you know, Mutterchen, that here in Berlin
there was a famous poet who wrote a poem about his old washerwoman?"
"Is it possible?"
"Of course it is possible. Moreover it is true. And do you know what he
said at the end? He said that he wished he could live and die like his
old washerwoman. Yes, that is what he said."
"Is it possible?" said the old woman to herself once more, simpering a
little.
"And do you know, Mutterchen, now don't you forget it, he was quite
right, and I say the very same? Oh yes, you laugh to yourself. But just
look about you here. How do you live? Like the good Lord in France. In
the first place, you have your house and hearth, and then the garden
and Frau Doerr. And then you have Lena. Haven't you? But what has become
of her?"
He would have gone on talking, but just then Lena came in with a tray,
on which was a carafe of water and some cider, for which the Baron had
a preference not easily to be understood, but for his belief in its
wonderful curative properties.
"Why Lena, how you spoil me. But you should not offer it to me so
formally. It seems just as if I were at the club. You must bring it to
me in your hand, it tastes best that way. And now give me your little
hand, and let me stroke it. No, no, the left one; that is nearest the
heart. And now sit right there, between Herr and Frau Doerr, so that you
will be opposite me and I can see you all the time. I have been happy
all day, looking forward to this time."
Lena laughed.
"Perhaps you don't believe it? But I can prove it to you, Lena, for I
have brought you something from the fine party that we had yesterday.
And when one has a little present to bring, he always feels happy about
the girl who is to receive it. Isn't that so, my dear Doerr?"
Doerr grinned, but Frau Doerr said: "Lord, he? He bring presents? Doerr is
all for scraping and saving. That is the way with gardeners. But I am
curious to see what the Herr Baron has brought."
"Well, then I will not keep you waiting any longer, or else dear Frau
Doerr might think I have brought a golden slipper or some such thing out
of a fairy story. But this is all it is."
And therewith he gave Lena a paper bag, from which, unless all signs
failed, the fringed ends of some snapping bonbons peeped out.
They proved to be snapping bonbons and the bag was passed around.
"But now we must pull one, Lena. Hold on tight and shut your eyes."
Frau Doerr was delighted when the cracker snapped, and still more so
when Lena's forefinger began to bleed. "That doesn't hurt, Lena, I know
it doesn't. It is just like a bride who pricks her finger. I used to
know one who was so crazy about it, that she kept pricking herself and
sucked and sucked, as if it were something wonderful."
Lena blushed. But Frau Doerr did not notice and went on: "And now read
the verse, Herr Baron."
And this is what he read:
When two forget themselves for love,
God and the angels rejoice above.
"Heavens," said Frau Doerr, folding her hands. "That is just like
something out of a song book. Is the verse always so pious?"
"I hope not," said Botho. "Not always. Come, dear Frau Doerr, let us
pull one and see what we shall get out of it."
And then he pulled again and read:
Where Love's dart has struck well.
Wide open stand both heaven and hell.
"Now, Frau Doerr, what do you say to that? It sounds different, doesn't
it?"
"Yes," said Frau Doerr, "it sounds different. But I don't quite like
it.... If I pull a bonbon...."
"Well?"
"Then I don't want anything about hell to come out, I don't want to
hear that there is any such thing."
"Nor I either," laughed Lena. "Frau Doerr is quite right: for that
matter, she is always right. But really, when one reads such a verse,
one has always something to start with, I mean to begin a conversation
with, for the beginning is always the hardest, just as it is with
writing letters. And I simply cannot imagine how you can begin a
conversation at once with no more ado, with so many strange ladies, for
you are not all acquainted with each other."
"Oh, my dear Lena," said Botho, "it isn't so hard as you think. It is
really quite easy. If you like, I will give you a dinner-table
conversation now."
Frau Doerr and Frau Nimptsch said that they would like to hear it and
Lena too nodded her assent.
"Now," went on Baron Botho, "you must imagine that you are a little
Countess. And I have just escorted you to the table and sat down and we
are taking the first spoonful of soup."
"Very well. But what now?"
"And now I say to you: 'If I am not mistaken, I saw you yesterday at
the flower show, you and your mother together. It is not surprising.
The weather entices us out every day now and we might almost say that
it is fit for travelling. Have you made any plans for the summer,
Countess?' And now you answer, that unfortunately nothing is settled
yet, because your papa is determined to go to Bavaria, while your
dearest wish is to see Saxon Switzerland with the Koenigstein and the
Bastei."
"It really is," laughed Lena.
"You see, that goes very well. And then I go on: 'Yes, gracious
Countess, in that we share the same tastes. I prefer Saxon Switzerland
to any other part of the world, even to the actual Switzerland itself.
One cannot always revel in the grander aspects of nature, and clamber
and get out of breath all the time. But Saxon Switzerland! Heavenly,
ideal. There is Dresden; in a quarter or a half hour I can be there,
and I can see pictures, the theatre, the great gardens, the Zwinger,
and the green vault. Do not neglect to see the tankard with the foolish
virgins, and above all things that cherry stone, on which the whole of
the Lord's prayer is carved. It can only be seen through the magnifying
glass.'"
"So that is the way you talk!"
"Exactly, my darling. And when I have paid sufficient attention to my
left-hand neighbor, that is, the Countess Lena, I turn to my right-hand
neighbor, that is, to Madame the Baroness Doerr...."
Frau Doerr was so delighted that she slapped her knee with a loud
noise....
"So I am to converse with Madame the Baroness Doerr? And what shall we
talk about? Well, say we talk about mushrooms."
"But, great heavens, mushrooms. About mushrooms, Herr Baron, that would
never do."
"Oh why not, why shouldn't it do, dear Frau Doerr? That is a very
serious and instructive subject and is more important than you think. I
once visited a friend in Poland, a comrade in my regiment and also
during the war, who lived in a great castle; it was red and had two
huge towers, and was so fearfully old, that you never see anything like
it nowadays. And the last room was his living room; for he was
unmarried, because he was a woman hater...."
"Is it possible?"
"And everywhere the old rotten boards were trodden through and wherever
there were a couple of boards lacking, there was a mushroom bed, and I
passed by all the mushroom beds, until at last I came to his room."
"Is it possible?" repeated Frau Doerr and added: "Mushrooms! But one
cannot always be talking about mushrooms."
"No, not always. But really quite often, and anyway it makes no
difference what you talk about. If it isn't mushrooms it is
'champignons,' and if it is not the red castle in Poland it is Schloss
Tegel or Saatwinkel, or Valentinswerder. Or Italy or Paris, or the city
railway, or whether the Panke should be filled in. It is all the same.
One can always talk a little about anything, whether it is especially
pleasing or not. And 'yes' is just as good as 'no.'"
"But," said Lena, "if all the talk is so empty, I am surprised that you
should go into such company."
"Oh you see beautiful women and handsome gowns and sometimes you catch
glances that will betray a whole romance, if you look sharp. And
anyway, it does not last long, so that you still have a chance to make
up for lost time at the club. And at the club it is really charming,
for there the artificial talk ceases and reality begins. Yesterday I
took Pitt's black mare from him."
"Who is Pitt?"
"Oh, those are just names that we have among ourselves, and we use them
when we are together. The Crown Prince himself says Vicky, in speaking
of Victoria. It really is pleasant that there are such affectionate pet
names. But listen, the concert is beginning over there. Can't we open
the windows, so as to hear it better? You are already tapping with your
foot. How would it do for us to take our places and try a Quadrille or
a Francaise? We have three couples: Father Doerr and good Frau Nimptsch,
and Frau Doerr and I (I beg the honor) and then comes Lena with Hans."
Frau Doerr agreed at once, but Doerr and Frau Nimptsch declined, the
latter because she was too old, the former because he was not used to
such fine doings.
"Very well, Father Doerr. But then you must beat time; Lena, give him
the tray and a spoon. And now come, ladies. Frau Doerr, your arm. And
now Hans, wake up, be lively."
And both pairs actually took their places and Frau Doerr's stateliness
visibly increased, as her partner began in a formal, dancing-master's
French: "_En avant deux, Pas de Basque_." The poor sleepy freckle-faced
boy looked about mechanically and allowed himself to be shoved here and
there, but the three others danced as if they knew how, and old Doerr
was so delighted that he jumped up and beat time on his tray with his
knuckles instead of with his spoon. The spirit of other days seemed to
return to Frau Nimptsch also, and since she found nothing better to do,
she poked the fire until the flames leaped up.
This went on until the music stopped; Botho led Frau Doerr back to her
place, but Lena still stood there, because the poor awkward boy did not
know what he ought to do with her. But that suited Botho exactly, for
when the music at the garden began again, he began to waltz with her,
and to whisper to her, how charming she was, more charming than ever.
They had all grown warm, especially Frau Doerr, who now stood close to
the open window. "Lord, how I am shivering," said she suddenly,
whereupon Both courteously sprang forward to close the window. But Frau
Doerr would not hear of such a thing and said, the fine people were all
wild about fresh air, and many of them so much so that the bed
coverings froze to their mouths in winter. Their breath was just like
the steam from the spout of the kettle. So the window must stay open,
she would not give up that point. But if dear Lena had something
comforting to give them, something to warm the cockles of the heart ...
"Certainly, Frau Doerr, whatever you want. I can make tea, or punch, or
better still, I have the cherry brandy, that you gave Mother Nimptsch
and me last Christmas for my big Christmas cake."
And before Frau Doerr could decide between punch and tea, the flask of
cherry brandy was already there, with small and large glasses which
each could fill according to their own desire. And now Lena went
around, the black kettle in her hand, and poured the boiling water into
the glasses. "Not too much, Lena, not too much. Let us get the good of
it. Water takes away the strength." And in a moment the room was full
of the rising aroma of cherry brandy.
"How nicely you did that," said Botho, as he sipped from his glass.
"Lord knows, I had nothing yesterday, nor to-day at the club that
tasted like this. Hurrah for Lena! But the chief credit of it all
belongs to our friend, Frau Doerr, because she had that shivering fit,
and so I am going to drink a second health. Frau Doerr; Hurrah for Frau
Doerr."
"Long may she live," shouted all the group together, and old Doerr began
to thump his tray with his knuckles again.
They all pronounced it a delicate drink, far finer than punch extract,
which in summer always tastes of sour lemon, because you mostly get old
bottles, which have been standing in the hot sun, in shop windows, ever
since Shrove Tuesday. But cherry brandy was something wholesome and
never spoiled, and rather than poison one's self with that bitter
almond poison one ought to take some proper good stuff, at least a
bottle.
It was Frau Doerr who made this remark, and her husband, who did not
want things to go too far, perhaps because he knew his wife's pet
weakness, urged their departure: "There will be another day to-morrow."
Botho and Lena asked them to stay a while longer. But good Frau Doerr,
who well knew "that one must yield at the proper time, in order to keep
the upper hand," merely said: "Never mind, Lena, I know him; he wants
to go to bed with the birds." "Well," said Botho, "what is settled is
settled. But at least we will escort the Doerrs home."
And therewith everybody went out, excepting old Frau Nimptsch, who
looked after her departing friends amiably, nodding her head, and then
got up and seated herself in the big grandfather chair.