Botho gazed at the ashes. "How little and yet how much." And then he
replaced the handsome fire screen, in the centre of which was a copy of
a Pompeian frescoed figure. A hundred times his eye had glanced at it
without noticing what it really was, but to-day he saw it and said:
"Minerva with her shield and spear. But her spear is resting on the
ground. Perhaps that signifies peace ... Would that it might be so."
And then he rose, closed the secret drawer which had now been despoiled
of its chief treasure and returned to the front of the house.
As he was passing through the long, narrow corridor, he met the cook
and the housemaid who were just coming back from a walk in the
Zoological Garden. As he saw them both standing there nervous and
confused, he felt a movement of compassion, but he controlled it and
reminded himself, although indeed somewhat ironically, "that it was
high time that an example should be made." So he began, as well as he
could, to play the part of Jove with his thunderbolts. Where in the
world had they been? Was that the proper way to behave? Their mistress
might come home any time, perhaps even to-day, and he had no desire to
hand over a disorganised household to her. And the man too? "Now, I
don't want to know anything about it, I will not listen; least of all
to any excuses." And when he had finished his little scolding, he
walked on smiling, chiefly at himself. "How easy it is to preach and
how hard it is to live up to one's principles. I am a hero only in
words. Am I not myself out of bounds? Have I not, myself, fallen away
from correct and virtuous customs? That it has been, might be
tolerated, but that it still is, that is the worst."
So saying he took his former seat on the balcony and rang. His man came
now, almost more nervous and troubled than the women, but there was no
longer any need, for the storm was over. "Tell the cook to get me
something to eat. Well, what are you waiting for? Oh, I see now (and he
laughed), there is nothing in the house. All this happens so
conveniently ... Then some tea; bring me tea, that will surely be in
the house. And let them make a couple of sandwiches. Good Lord, how
hungry I am.... And have the evening papers come yet?"
"Very good, Herr Rittmeister."
The tea table was soon served on the balcony and a bit of something to
eat had also been discovered. Botho leaned back in a rocking chair and
gazed thoughtfully at the little blue flame. Then he picked up his
little wife's monitor, the "Fremdenblatt," and after that the
"Kreuzzeitung," and looked at the last page. "Heavens, how glad
Katherine will be, when she can study this last page every day fresh
from the source, that is, twelve hours earlier than in Schlangenbad.
And is she not right? 'Adalbert von Lichterloh, Government Referendar
and Lieutenant of Reserves, and Hildegard von Lichterloh, _nee_ Holtze,
have the honor to announce their marriage which took place to-day.'
Wonderful! And really it is fine to see how life and love goes on in
the world. Weddings and christenings! And now and then a few deaths
interspersed. Oh well, one does not need to read them. Katherine does
not, nor I either, and only when the Vandals have lost one of their
'alten Herren' and I see the name of my regiment among the death
notices do I read it; that interests me and it always seems to me as if
the old camp at Hofbraeu were invited to Walhalla. Spatenbraeu is still
more suitable."
He laid the paper aside, because the bell rung ... "Can she really ..."
No, it was nothing but a bill of fare of soups sent up by the landlord
with a charge of fifty pfennigs. But for all that he was much disturbed
all the evening, because he constantly imagined the possibility of a
surprise, and whenever he saw a cab with a trunk in front and a lady's
travelling hat on the back seat turning into the Landgrafenstrasse, he
would exclaim to himself: "That is she; she loves such doings and I can
already hear her saying: I thought it would be so funny, Botho."
However, Katherine did not come. A letter from her came next morning
instead, in which she said that she should return on the third day
after the date of the letter. "She wanted to travel with Frau Salinger
again, for, take it for all in all, she was a very nice woman, with
many pleasant traits, a great deal of style and also knew how to travel
very comfortably."
Botho laid down the letter and for the moment was sincerely pleased at
the thought of seeing his pretty young wife within three days. "There
is room in the human heart for all sorts of contradictions.... She
talks nonsense, certainly, but even a foolish young wife is better than
none at all."
Then he called the servants and told them that their mistress was
coming back in three days; they must have everything in order and
polish all the locks and other brasses. And there must be no fly specks
on the big mirror.
Having given these housekeeping orders beforehand, he went to the
barracks for his period of service there. "If anyone asks, I shall be
back at five."
His programme for the intervening time was, that until noon he would be
on the parade ground, then ride for a couple of hours and after his
ride dine at the club. If he did not find anyone else there, he would
at least find Balafre, which implied two-handed whist and a wealth of
true or untrue stories of the Court. For Balafre, however trustworthy
he was, made it a principle to set aside one hour of the day for humbug
and exaggeration. Indeed, with him, this activity took the lead among
the pleasures of the mind.
And the programme was carried out just as it was planned. The big clock
at the barracks was striking twelve as he sprung into the saddle and
after he had passed the "Lindens" and immediately after the
Luisenstrasse, he at last turned into a road that ran along beside the
canal and further on ran in the direction of Ploetzensee. As he rode
along, he recalled the day when he had ridden here before, to gain
courage for his parting with Lena, for the parting that had been so
hard for him and that still had to be. That was three years ago. And
what had there been for him in the meantime? Much happiness, certainly.
But it had been no real happiness. A sugar plum, not much more. And who
can live on sweets alone!
He was still brooding over these thoughts, when he saw two comrades
coming along a bridle path from the woods towards the canal. They were
Uhlans, as he could plainly see even from a distance by their
"Czapkas." But who were they? To be sure, he could not remain long in
doubt and before they had approached within a hundred paces, Botho saw
that they were the Rexins, cousins, and both from the same regiment.
"Ah, Rienaecker," said the elder. "Where are you going?"
"As far as the sky is blue."
"That is too far for me."
"Well, then, as far as Saatwinkel."
"That is worth thinking of. I believe I will join the party, that is,
provided that I do not intrude.... Kurt (and as he spoke he turned to
his younger companion), I beg your pardon. But I want to speak with
Rienaecker. And under the circumstances ..."
"You would rather speak with him privately. Just as you prefer, Bozel,"
and Kurt von Rexin touched his hat and rode on. The cousin who had been
addressed as Bozel, however, turned his horse around, took the left
side of Rienaecker, who was far above him in rank and said: "Very well
then, to Saatwinkel. We shall take care not to ride into the Tegeler
rifle range."
"At all events I shall try to avoid it," replied Rienaecker, "first for
my own sake and second for yours. And third and last because of
Henrietta. What would that interesting brunette say, if her Bogislaw
should be shot and killed and that too by some friend?"
"That would indeed give her a heartache," answered Rexin, "and would
also strike out one item in the reckoning between her and me."
"What reckoning do you mean?"
"That is the very point, Rienaecker, about which I wanted to consult
you."
"To consult me? And about what point?"
"You ought to be able to guess it. It is not difficult. Naturally I
mean an affair, an affair of my own."
"An affair!" laughed Botho. "Why, I am at your service, Rexin. But, to
be frank with you, I hardly know just what leads you to confide in me.
I am not a remarkable fount of wisdom in any direction, least of all in
this. And then, too, we have quite different authorities. One of these
you know very well. And moreover he is a special friend of yours and of
your cousin's."
"Balafre?"
"Yes."
Rexin felt that there was something like reluctance or refusal in these
words and stopped talking with some air of finality. But that was more
than Botho had meant, and so he led on a little further. "Affairs.
Pardon me, Rexin, there are so many affairs."
"Certainly. But however many there are, they are all different."
Botho shrugged his shoulders and smiled. But Rexin, evidently not
meaning to be stopped the second time through his own sensitiveness,
only repeated in an indifferent tone: "Yes, however many there are, yet
they are different. And I wonder, Rienaecker, that you should be the one
to shrug your shoulders. I really thought ..."
"Well, then, out with it."
"So I will."
And after a while Rexin went on: "I have been through the University,
and have served with the Uhlans, and before that (you know I joined
them rather late) I was at Bonn and Goettingen and I need no instruction
and advice when the case is a usual one. But when I examine myself
carefully, I find that in my case the affair is not usual but
exceptional."
"Everyone thinks that."
"To speak plainly, I feel myself engaged, and more than that, I love
Henrietta, or to show you my feeling more plainly, I love my dark
Yetta. Yes, this importunate pet name with its suggestion of the
canteen suits me best, because I want to avoid all solemn airs in this
connection. I feel sufficiently in earnest and just because I am in
earnest, I feel no need of anything like pompous or artificial forms of
speech. They only weaken the expression."
Botho nodded in agreement and refrained from every sign of derision or
superiority, such as he had shown at first.
"Yetta," Rexin went on, "is not descended from a line of angels nor is
she one herself. But where can you find one who is? In our own sphere?
Absurd. All these distinctions are purely artificial and the most
artificial are to be found in the realm of virtue. Naturally, virtue
and other such fine things do exist, but innocence and virtue are like
Bismarck and Moltke, that is, they are rare. I have observed very
carefully her life and conduct, I believe her to be genuine and I
intend to act accordingly as far as possible. And now listen,
Rienaecker. If, instead of riding beside this tiresome canal, as
straight and monotonous as the forms and formulas of our society, I
say, if we were now riding by the Sacramento instead of beside this
wretched ditch, and if we had the diggings before us instead of the
Tegeler shooting range, I would marry Yetta at once. I cannot live
without her. She has bewitched me, and her simplicity, modesty and
genuine love have more weight with me than ten countesses. But it is
impossible. I cannot treat my parents so, and besides, I cannot leave
the service at twenty-seven years of age, to become a cowboy in Texas
or a waiter on a Mississippi steamer. Therefore the middle way...."
"And what do you mean by that?"
"A union without formal sanction."
"You mean a marriage without marriage."
"If you like, yes. The mere word means nothing to me, just as little as
legalisation, sanctification, or whatever else such things may be
called; I am a bit touched with nihilism and have no real faith in the
blessing of the church. But, to cut a long story short, I am in favor
of monogamy, not on moral grounds, but because I cannot help it, and
because of my own inborn nature. All relations are repugnant to me,
where beginning and breaking off may happen within the same hour, so to
speak. And if I just now called myself a nihilist, I may with still
more justice call myself a Philistine. I long for simple forms, for a
quiet, natural way of living, where heart speaks to heart and where one
has the best that there is, faithfulness, love and freedom."
"Freedom!" repeated Botho.
"Yes, Rienaecker. But since I well know that dangers may lurk here too
and that the joy of freedom, perhaps all freedom, is a two-edged sword,
that can wound, one never knows how, I wanted to ask you."
"And I will answer you," said Rienaecker, who was growing more and more
serious, as these confidences recalled his own life, both past and
present, to his mind. "Yes, Rexin, I will answer you as well as I can,
and I believe that I am able to answer you. And so I implore you, keep
out of all that. In such a relation as you are planning for, only two
things are possible, and the one is fully as bad as the other. If you
play the true and faithful lover, or what amounts to the same thing, if
you break entirely with your position and birth and the customs of your
class, sooner or later, if you do not go to pieces altogether, you will
become a horror and a burden to yourself; but if things do not go that
way, and if, as is more common, you make your peace, after a year or
more, with your family and with the social order, then there is sorrow,
for the tie must be loosened which has been knit and strengthened by
happiness, and alas, what means still more, by unhappiness and pain and
distress. And that hurts dreadfully."
Rexin looked as if he were about to answer, but Botho did not notice
him and went on: "My dear Rexin, a short time ago you were speaking, in
a way that might serve as a model of decorous expression, of relations
'where beginning and breaking off may happen within the same hour,' but
these relations, which are really none at all, are not the worst. The
worst are those, to quote you once more, which keep to the 'middle
course.' I warn you, beware of this middle course, beware of half-way
measures. What you think is gain is bankruptcy, and what seems to you a
harbor means shipwreck. That way leads to no good, even if to outward
appearances all runs smoothly and no curse is pronounced and scarcely a
gentle reproach is uttered. And there is no other way. For everything
brings its own natural consequences, we must remember that. Nothing
that has happened can be undone, and an image that has once been
engraved in the soul, never wholly fades out again, never completely
disappears. Memory remains and comparisons will arise in the mind. And
so once more, my friend, give up your intention or else the whole
course of your life will be disturbed and you will never again win your
way through to clearness and light. Many things may be permitted, but
not those that involve the soul, not those that entangle the heart,
even if it is only your own."