Confusion seized upon Christian whenever he sought to think about the
condition in which he found himself.
In his breast there was an emptiness which nothing could fill from
without, and about him was a rigid armour that hindered all freedom of
movement. He yearned to fill the emptiness and to burst the armour.
His mother became anxious, and said: “You look peaked, Christian. Is
anything wrong with you?” He assured her that there was nothing. But
she knew better, and inquired of Crammon: “What ails Christian? He is
so still and pale.”
Crammon answered: “Dear lady, that is his style of personality.
Experiences carve his face. Has it not grown nobler and prouder? You
need fear nothing. He follows his road firmly and unwaveringly. And so
long as I am with him, nothing evil can happen to him.”
Frau Wahnschaffe was moved in her faint way, though still in doubt, and
gave him her hand.
Crammon said to Christian: “The countess has made a great catch--a
person from overseas. Quite fitting.”
“Do you like the man?” Christian asked, uncertainly.
“God forbid that I should think evil of him,” Crammon replied,
hypocritically. “He is from so far away, and will go so far away again,
that I cannot but find him congenial. If he takes that child Letitia
with him, he shall be accompanied by my blessings. Whether it will mean
her happiness, that is a matter I refuse to be anxious about. Such
remote distances have, at all events, something calming. The Argentine,
the Rio de la Plata! Dear me, it might just as well be the moon!”
Christian laughed. Yet the figure of Crammon, as it stood there before
him, seemed to dissolve into a mist, and he suppressed what he still
had to say.
Twenty-three of the guest rooms were occupied. People arrived and
left. Scarcely did one begin to recognize a face, when it disappeared
again. Men and women, who had met but yesterday, associated quite
intimately to-day, and said an eternal farewell to-morrow. A certain
Herr von Wedderkampf, a business associate of the elder Wahnschaffe,
had brought his four daughters. Fräulein von Einsiedel arranged to
settle down for the winter, for her parents were in process of being
divorced. Wolfgang, who was spending his vacation at home, had brought
with him three student friends. All these people were in a slightly
exalted mood, made elaborate plans for their amusement, wrote letters
and received them, dined, flirted, played music, were excited and
curious, witty and avid for pleasure, continued to carry on their
worldly affairs from here, and assumed an appearance of friendliness,
innocence, and freedom from care.
Liveried servants ran up and down the stairs, electric bells trilled,
motor car horns tooted, tables were laid, lamps shone, jewels
glittered. Behind one door they flirted, behind another they brewed a
scandal. In the hall with the fair marble columns sat smiling couples.
It was a world thoroughly differentiated from those quite accidental
modern groupings at places where one pays. It was full of a common will
to oblige, of secret understandings, and of social charm.
Letitia had gone with her aunt to spend a week in Munich. She did
not return until the third day after Christian’s arrival. Christian
was glad to see her. Yet he could not bring himself to enter into
conversation with her.