At about this same time there were at the club two young cavaliers, one
of them, who was tall, slender and smooth-faced, belonged to the Gardes
du Corps; the other, who was somewhat shorter, and had a full beard
with only the regulation smooth chin, had been dismissed from the
Pasewalkern. The white damask table cloth, which remained from their
breakfast, had been turned back and the two were playing piquet on the
bare half of the table.
"Six cards and four of a kind."
"Very well."
"And you?"
"Fourteen aces, three kings, three queens.... And you don't make a
trick." And he laid his hand on the table and then pushed all the cards
together while his companion shuffled.
"Did you know that Ella is about to be married?"
"What a pity!"
"Why a pity?"
"She can't jump through the hoop any more."
"Nonsense. The more they are married the slenderer they grow."
"Yet there are exceptions. Many names belonging to the aristocracy of
the circus already appear in the third and fourth generation, which
seems to point to some alternation of a slender and a stouter form, or
if you like, to the new moon, the first quarter, &c."
"You are mistaken. _Error in calculo_. You forget that there may be
adoptions. All these circus people are secretly 'Gichtelianer' and pass
on their property, their rank and their names according to agreement.
They seem the same and yet they are different. There is always fresh
blood. Cut.... Besides that I have another bit of news. Afzelius is to
join the General Staff."
"Which do you mean?"
"The one who belongs to the Uhlans."
"Impossible."
"Moltke values him highly and he must have done some excellent work."
"He does not impress me. It was all an affair of hunting libraries and
plagiarizing. Any one who is a trifle ingenious can turn out books like
Humboldt or Ranke."
"Four of a kind. Fourteen aces."
"Five sequence to king."
And while the trick was being played, one could hear from the billiard
room near by the sound of the balls and the falling of the little pins.
In the two back rooms of the club, the narrow side of which looked out
on a sunny but tiresome garden, there were in all only six or eight
men, all silent, all more or less absorbed in their whist or dominoes,
and not the least absorbed were the two men who had just been talking
about Ella and Afzelius. The game ran high, and so the two did not look
up until they saw, through an open curved niche, a new-comer
approaching from the next room. It was Wedell.
"But Wedell, if you don't bring us a lot of news, we will excommunicate
you."
"Pardon, Serge, there was no definite agreement."
"But almost. For the rest, you will find me personally in the most
accommodating mood. How you can settle things with Pitt, who has just
lost 150 points, is your affair."
Thereupon the two men pushed the cards aside and the young man whom
Wedell had greeted as Serge took out his watch and said: "Quarter past
three. Time for coffee. Some philosopher, and he must have been one of
the greatest, once said that the best thing about coffee was that it
was always suitable under all circumstances and at all times of day.
Truly that was a wise saying. But where shall we take it? I think we
had better sit outside on the terrace, right in the sun. The more one
braves the weather the better one fares. Here, Pehlecke, three cups. I
cannot listen to the falling of the pins any longer. It makes me
nervous; outside, indeed, there is noise too, but it is different, and
instead of the sharp strokes, we shall hear the rumbling and thundering
of the underground railway, and we can imagine that we are on Vesuvius
or AEtna. And why not? All pleasures are in the last analysis imaginary,
and whoever has the best imagination enjoys the most pleasure. Only
unreality gives value and is actually the only reality."
"Serge," said the man who had been addressed as Pitt at the piquet
table, "if you go on with your famous wise sayings, you will punish
Wedell more severely than he deserves. Besides, you must have some
mercy on me because I have been losing. So, we will stay here, with the
lawn behind us, this ivy near us, and a view of a bare wall. A heavenly
location for his Majesty's guards! What would old Prince Pueckler have
said to this club garden? Pehlecke, here, bring the table here, that
will do. And, to finish with, you may bring us some of your very best
lager. And now, Wedell, if you want to win forgiveness, give your cloak
a shake, and see if you cannot shake a new war or some other big piece
of news out of it. You are related to God in heaven through the
Puttkamers. With which branch I need not say. What more is he brewing?"
"Pitt," said Wedell, "I beg you, don't ask me any questions about
Bismarck. For in the first place, you know that I know nothing about
such matters, because cousins in the seventeenth degree are not
precisely the intimates and confidants of princes, and in the second
place, I come, instead of from the Prince, direct from a shooting match
where with a few hits and many, many misses, no other than his Highness
was the target."
"And who was this bold shot?"
"The old Baron Osten, Rienaecker's uncle. A charming old gentleman and a
good fellow. But of course a sly dog also."
"Like all Maerkers."
"I am one myself."
"_Tant mieux_. Then you know all about it yourself. But out with it.
What did the old fellow say?"
"A good many things. His political talk was hardly worth reporting, but
another bit of news was all the more important: Rienaecker has a sharp
corner to turn."
"And what corner?"
"He is about to marry."
"And you call that a sharp corner to turn? I beg to disagree with you,
Wedell; Rienaecker stands in a much more difficult position: he has 9000
marks a year and spends 12000, and that is the sharpest of all corners,
at least sharper than the marriage corner. Marriage is no danger for
Rienaecker, but a rescue. For that matter, I have seen it coming. And
who is it then?"
"A cousin!"
"Naturally. A rescuer and a cousin are almost identical terms at
present. And I will wager that her name is Paula. All cousins are named
Paula these days."
"But this one is not."
"And her name?"
"Katherine."
"Katherine? Ah, now I know. Katherine Sellenthin. Hm! Not so bad, in
fact a brilliant match. Old Sellenthin, he is the old man with the
plaster over his eye, has six estates, and with the farms there are
really thirteen. If divided in equal parts, Katherine will get the
thirteenth thrown in. My congratulations."
"Do you know her?"
"Certainly. A wonderful flaxen-haired blonde with eyes as blue as
forget-me-nots, but for all that she is not sentimental, and is less
like the moon than like the sun. She was here at Frau Zuelow's Pension,
and at fourteen she was already surrounded and courted."
"At the Pension?"
"Not really at the Pension and not every day, but on Sundays when she
went to lunch with old Osten, the one whom you have just seen.
Katherine, Katherine Sellenthin!... she was like a rail then, and that
is what we used to call her, and she was the most charming little
hoyden that you can imagine. I can still see her braid of hair, which
we always called the distaff. And Rienaecker will now have a chance to
spin it off. Well, why not? It will not be so difficult for him."
"After all, it may be more difficult than many think," answered Wedell.
"And while he certainly needs his finances improved, yet I am not sure
that he would decide at once in favor of the blond beauty from his own
province. For you must know that Rienaecker has for some time past
enjoyed another tint, indeed ash-blond, and if what Balafre lately told
me is true, he has been seriously considering whether he should not
raise his blanchisseuse to the rank of la dame blanche. He sees no
distinction between Castle Avenal and Castle Zehden. A castle is a
castle and, you know, Rienaecker, who for that matter, goes his own way
in many things, was always in favor of naturalness."
"Yes," laughed Pitt. "That he was. But Balafre draws the long bow and
invents interesting tales. You are sober, Wedell, and will not be ready
to believe such made up nonsense."
"No, it is not imaginary," said Wedell. "But I believe what I know.
Rienaecker, in spite of his six feet, or perhaps because of them, is
weak and easily guided and is peculiarly gentle and tenderhearted."
"He certainly is. But circumstances will compel him and he will break
away and free himself, at the worst like a fox out of a trap. It is
painful and a bit of one's life is left behind. But the main thing is
to get out again--out, out and free. Long live Katherine! And
Rienaecker! What does the proverb say? 'God helps those who help
themselves.'"