As the sun was setting the young couple reached home, and after
Katherine had given her hat and cloak to Minette and had ordered tea,
she followed Botho into his room, because she thought it fitting to
spend the whole of the first day after her journey in his company, and
besides she really wished to stay with him.
Botho was content, and because she was shivering, he put a cushion
under her feet and spread a plaid over her. Soon afterwards he was
called away, on account of some official business which required prompt
attention.
The time passed and since the cushion and plaid did not quite suffice
to give the requisite warmth, Katherine rang and asked the servant to
bring a couple of pieces of wood; she was so cold.
At the same time she rose, to set the fire screen to one side, and in
doing this, she saw the little heap of ashes, which still lay on the
iron plate of the fire place.
At this very moment Botho came in again and was startled at what he
saw. But he was immediately reassured, as Katherine pointed to the
ashes and said in her most playful tone: "What does this mean, Botho.
Look there, I have caught you again. Now confess. Love letters? Yes or
no?"
"Of course you will believe what you choose."
"Yes or no?"
"Very well then; yes."
"That is right. Now I am satisfied. Love letters! That is too comical.
But perhaps we had better burn them twice; first to ashes and then to
smoke. Perhaps that will bring good luck."
And she took the pieces of wood that the servant had brought in the
meantime, laid them skilfully together and started to light them with a
couple of matches. The wood caught. In a moment the fire was blazing
brightly and as she drew the armchair up before it and put her feet
comfortably on the iron fender to warm them, she said: "And now I will
tell you the story of the Russian, who naturally was not a Russian. But
she was a very clever person. She had almond eyes, all such persons
have almond eyes, and she gave out that she was at Schlangenbad for the
sake of the cure. Well, one knows what that means. She had no doctor,
at least no regular physician, but every day she went to Frankfort or
Wiesbaden, or even to Darmstadt, and she always had an escort. And some
even said that it was not always the same one. And you just ought to
have seen her toilettes and her conceited airs! She would scarcely bow
to anyone when she came to the table d'hote with her chaperon. For she
had a chaperon--that is always the first requisite for such ladies. And
we called her 'the Pompadour,' I mean the Russian, and she knew that
we called her that too. And the general's wife, old Frau von Wedell,
who was entirely on our side and was quite indignant over this
doubtful person (for she was a _person_, there could be no doubt about
that)--Frau Wedell, I say, said right out loud across the table: 'Yes,
ladies, the fashions change in everything even in pockets large and
small and in purses long and short. When I was young, there were still
Pompadours, but now there are no longer any Pompadours. Is not that so?
There are no longer any Pompadours?' And as she said this we all
laughed and looked at the Pompadour. But the shocking person won a
victory over us for all that for she said in a loud, sharp tone (old
Frau von Wedell was rather deaf) 'Yes, Frau Generalin, it is exactly as
you say. Only it is strange, that as the Pompadours went out reticules
came in, and presently they were called Ridicules and such Ridicules we
still have.' And as she spoke she looked at good old Frau von Wedell,
who, since she could not answer, rose from the table and left the room.
And now I should like to ask you, what have you to say to this? What do
you think of such impertinence?... But, Botho, you are not saying
anything. You are not listening...."
"Oh yes, I am, Katherine...."
Three weeks later there was a wedding in Jacob's church, the
cloister-like court in front of which was filled with a large and
curious crowd, mostly workingmen's wives, some of them with children on
their arms. But there were some school children and street children
among them too. A number of carriages drove up, from one of the first
of which a couple alighted, who were accompanied by laughter and
comments, as long as they were in sight.
"Such a figure!" said one of the women who stood nearest.
"Figure?"
"Well, her hips."
"They are more like the sides of a whale."
"That is right."
And doubtless this conversation would have continued longer, had not
the bride's carriage driven up just at this moment. The servant sprang
down from the box and hastened to open the door, but the bridegroom
himself, a thin man in a tall hat and high pointed collar, was quicker
than he and gave his hand to his bride, a very pretty girl, who, as is
usually the case with brides was less admired for her beauty than for
her white satin dress. Then both walked up the few stone steps, which
were covered with a somewhat worn carpet, then over the court and
directly afterwards through the church door. All eyes followed them.
"And she has no wreath?" said the same woman whose critical eye had
shortly before looked so severely at Frau Doerr's figure.
"Wreath?... Wreath?... Didn't you know then?... Haven't you heard
anything whispered about?"
"Oh, so that is it. Of course I have. But, my dear Kornatzki, if
everybody paid attention to rumors there would be no more wreaths and
Schmidt on the Friedrichsstrasse might as well shut up shop at once."
"Yes, yes," laughed Kornatzki, "so he might. And after all, for such an
old man! At least fifty years have gone over his head and he looks as
if he might be going to celebrate his silver wedding at the same time."
"Yes indeed. That is just how he looked. And did you see his
old-fashioned high collar? I never saw anything like it."
"Well, he could use it to kill her with, if there are any more rumors."
"Yes, he can do that."
And so the talk ran on a little longer, while the organ prelude could
already be heard from the church.
The next morning Rienaecker and Katherine were sitting at breakfast,
this time in Botho's workroom, both windows of which stood wide open to
let in the air and light. Some mating swallows were flying and
twittering all about the yard, and Botho, who was in the habit of
giving them crumbs every morning, was just reaching for the basket
again for the same purpose when the hearty laughter of his young wife
who for the last five minutes had been absorbed in her favorite
newspaper, caused him to set the basket down again.
"Now, Katherine, what is it? You seem to have found something
uncommonly nice."
"So I have.... It is simply too comical, the names that one sees! And
always in the notices of weddings or engagements. Just listen...."
"I am all ears."
"Gideon Franke, Master Mechanic, and Magdalena Franke, nee Nimptsch,
respectfully beg leave to announce their marriage which took place
to-day ... Nimptsch. Can you imagine anything funnier? And then
Gideon!"
Botho took the paper, but only as a means of concealing his
embarrassment. Then he handed it back, and said in as careless a tone
as he could muster: "What have you against Gideon, Katherine? Gideon is
better than Botho."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: The reader need not take the trouble to look for the place
thus designated. We have found it necessary to change the names given
in the original.]
[Footnote 2: We feel obliged to suppress the passage in the letter, to
prevent anyone from feeling aggrieved; although no author need pay much
attention to the opinion of a mere girl, or that of an unsteady young
man.]
[Footnote 3: Though the names are omitted, yet the authors mentioned
deserve Charlotte's approbation, and will feel it in their hearts when
they read this passage. It concerns no other person.]