The dinner was nearing its end. Among the little party of five men
whom the old count had invited to dine with him at the Political
Club, the minister for foreign affairs was obviously the guest of
honour. True the table was a round one, chosen specially in order to
obviate any question of precedence. Yet it was impossible to avoid
the impression that the man tucked away in the corner was really the
presiding genius. From his place he could keep his eyes on the
remainder of the room. The host occupied the seat on the left of the
minister. Since he was of a genial disposition, quite innocuous, and
above all was no longer regarded as a possible competitor, the
younger aspirants to power were glad of his company, for they ran no
risk of being compromised, while at the same time they could flaunt a
halo of disinterestedness.
To the left of the host sat a naval commander whose youthful face was
surmounted by the bald dome of his head. The effect was all the more
ludicrous because the sun and the sea air had tanned the face a deep
mahogany, while above the line of his cap the skin was shiny and very
white. Furthermore, the man was clean-shaven, so that his head gave
the effect of an anatomical specimen. The commander was flanked by
Diana's friend the major, whose whole countenance was in vivid
contrast to that of his neighbour, the two men thus admirably
illustrating in their persons the perennial antagonism between the
naval and the military arms.
The fourth guest was a professor of economics whose lively bearing
and mischievous doctrinairism showed him to be a man of the old
school. With the typical arrogance of the learned, he looked down on
the man of war to his right, and devoted himself exclusively to his
left-hand neighbour. This was Scherer, whom the old count had
invited that he and the minister might become acquainted.
When dessert had been placed on the table, the men pushed back their
chairs and sat more comfortably. Scherer and the minister entered
into close conversation. Thereupon, the other four instinctively
drew together for a talk. Scherer sat quietly listening while his
neighbour spoke; occasionally he would pull his short, fair
moustache, but he said very little. The minister leaned heavily upon
the arm of his chair; he was serious of mien, and gazed inquiringly
at his companion. It was obvious that the task in hand was not the
capture of the statesman, but, rather, that the financier and
publisher was the quarry of the evening.
Yet the statesman did not abate by one jot or tittle the arrogant
tone that was habitual to him. He was ten years Scherer's senior, it
is true, was engaged in a struggle, and was filled with misgivings in
regard to the twofold profession of his interlocutor. All this
combined to make his subterranean fires glow the brighter, so that
his rather heavy countenance was illuminated and made more vivacious
by the fight. His face was swarthy and was framed in grizzled hair;
his dark eyes were rendered preternaturally large by the huge convex
glasses of his spectacles which gave him an unearthly fixation of
gaze. Scherer, on the other hand, wore a pince-nez whose elegant
poise merely served to enhance the fine line of his features.
"Do you really trust these orientals?" asked the minister softly and
yet with precision, for he was coming to the kernel of the matter
under discussion.
"There are as many varieties among the peoples of the East as among
us westerners," answered Scherer, his metallic voice, as always,
ringing true.
The statesman was somewhat irritated by an answer whose banality
revealed a desire on Scherer's part to evade the issue. For a moment
or two, he toyed with his fruit knife; then, speaking with
deliberation:
"I have in mind the present situation. Should we base the whole of
our colonial development on the good will of a nation whose resolves
may change at any moment, whose French culture will require more than
a generation to efface, and whose geographical position lays it open
to the advances of any chance comer? The door over there has been
flung wide. Is it right that I should order Turkish coffee to be
served me in that room when I am not sure whether before I reach it,
another member of this club may not bribe the manager to have the
doors shut and may not commandeer all the coffee for his own use?"
"Did I hear the delicious words, Turkish coffee?" put in the
professor, hoping thereby to bring both conversations to an end.
"How would it be to stretch our legs a trifle after the solemn
enjoyment of our repast? Pardon me, Count..."
But already the six chairs had been pushed back, and the men made for
the stairs, walking in couples, the professor arm-in-arm with the
count, while the statesman and Scherer brought up the rear, halting
from time to time in order to emphasize some particular point and
thereby holding up the remainder of the party, for the count was
loath to get separated from his guests. Scherer, who was better
acquainted with the East than was his companion, and who had come to
realize that the statesman's ethnological arguments were based upon
personal distrust of specific personages, now took up his parable
from this side. He put a direct question:
"You feel that the present crisis confirms your outlook--justifies a
policy that would aim at breaking all the engagements entered into by
persons on the spot?"
The other answered with customary evasiveness:
"I perceive the danger of allowing oneself to place too much trust
in..."
"And would, therefore, advise against further investment in the
railway shares?"
But the minister was not to be coerced into plain speaking, and
answered with studied ambiguity:
"I would seek to gain time and to make a cautious retreat."
The minister's main object tonight was to bring the newspaper magnate
to an acceptance of his Balkan policy by giving the financier a hint
as to the possible course of affairs. Scherer guessed the import of
the manœuvre. He was well aware that the minister opposed the
political trend towards expansion in the East, and was, in addition,
devoured with a jealous suspicion of the ambassador at the centre of
present interest. Cautiously avoiding these essential issues,
Scherer gazed down at the points of his patent-leather shoes, and
asked unconcernedly:
"Your dispatches bring better news today?"
"Dispatches, indeed," fumed the minister. "There are certain people
who are unteachable! Twelve hours before the outbreak of hostilities
they will still be assuring you of the love these nations feel
towards you."
"It is possible that those who are commissioned to look after our
interests on the spot do not enjoy your full confidence?"
"Have you implicit confidence in your correspondents, Herr Scherer?"
Scherer gave a short laugh.
"No! But..."
The moment had come when the minister could no longer postpone the
decisive question. He assumed the attitude of a fencer about to
thrust, an attitude he invariably adopted when dealing with the
Opposition in the Lower House, and asked coldly:
"Do you believe in the unerring judgment of our ambassador out there?"
Scherer looked tranquilly into his companion's owl-like eyes, and
drawled:
"Unerring? He seems to me a pleasant person. No one is infallible.
Surely you don't expect all our ambassadors to be men of genius?"
There was a challenging note in this question, for the financier
could certainly not be ignorant of the antipathy the two men felt for
one another. The minister, therefore, broke off the conversation by
stepping smartly forward to join the rest of the company, while he
said loud enough for all to hear:
"I sincerely trust you are right, Herr Scherer, were it only in the
interests of the State."
"Have you brought him to heel, Sir," asked the professor jovially.
"A marvellous man, this Scherer," continued he, "puts his money in
railways that don't work, publishes newspapers in which the reports
are as false as the type is heavy, with it all is a European
celebrity, and he himself does not know if he owes his notoriety to
his wealth or his wit!"
"You are merry, worthy privy councillor," said Scherer
good-humouredly. He towered head and shoulders above the professor
and was therefore able to lay his hand condescendingly upon the
smaller man's shoulder. Every one realized that he was revenging
himself for the professor's sally by addressing him with a title the
authorities were never likely to bestow. But the little man did not
put himself about to correct the error. He merely exclaimed:
"Call me 'colleague,' then at least for a minute I can rejoice in the
illusion of sharing your millions!"
"And I the delight of sharing a professorship," laughed Scherer,
turning on his heel.
"What a disagreeable person," muttered the commander, wagging his
head, and looking coldly at the offending professor.
"Oh, that's a mere nothing," interposed the major. "I've heard the
creature lecture at the Colonial Society. He let drop one insult
after the other. And there were a number of foreign diplomats
present as guests!"
"Men like that do us a lot of harm abroad," retorted the naval
officer. "It's by them that our nation is judged."
The party moved on up the stairs, and presently broke up. Scherer
and the two officers walked down the street together.
"Do you know these lands?" asked Scherer, addressing himself to his
naval friend for the first time that evening.
"Very little. We seafaring men are restricted to the coasts.
There's seldom an opportunity to get away inland."
"Which one of us three knows those countries from the inside? I was
recently putting the same question to one of our experts in eastern
affairs. Oriental politics were supposed to be his speciality.
Three times had he been along the caravan route from Konia to Aleppo,
had visited Monastir, had gone to see the temples in the
Peloponnesus. Each expedition had lasted three weeks. I'll wager
that you know more about those places than he does, Commander," said
Scherer with a laugh.
"I really know practically nothing. True, my ship was stationed
three years in those waters, but one picks up so little trustworthy
information."
Scherer gave him an appreciative look.
"Unfortunately our writers fail to realize that! Do you happen to
know our ambassador?"
"Slightly, very slightly."
"Shall I seem indiscreet if I ask whether you think he's the right
man for the job?"
"The only man!" exclaimed the commander with an emphasis which in any
one else might have seemed exaggerated.
For a while, they walked along in silence, each deep in his own
thoughts, the naval officer gazing straight ahead of him, while
Scherer's eyes were cast on the pavement.
"He must be an interesting fellow," murmured the major, amid the
prevailing silence.
"Very," came deliberately from the commander.
They had reached the street which led to his quarters. He drew
himself up, bade good-night, and went on his way.
Scherer and the major continued their stroll. They, too, had hardly
had a word with one another. Since the night at the opera, the major
had learned of Diana's connexion with the publisher, and had been
waiting all the evening for the chance of a talk. They often did not
meet for months at a time. Scherer, too, was eager to bring the
conversation round to Diana. He wanted his own view of her confirmed
by some one whose opinion he respected, and he knew by the major's
bearing towards her the other evening, that the soldier was to be
trusted. And yet he felt a certain misgiving, for he was a man of
the world, and, with such, a lack of confidence in others' integrity
is habitual.
"A man of sterling worth, that," said Scherer, nodding his head in
the direction of their departing friend. He was inclined, when
speaking of men he knew but slightly, to use vaguely pompous
expressions of commendation.
"Very pleasant, indeed," replied the major. "Very pleasant, and
unassuming. A delightful contrast to most men in his profession."
Scherer smiled.
"You army men always underestimate the navy."
"Pardon me, it's finance that overestimates the navy," corrected the
major.
Scherer was delighted with the answer. It seemed to him courageous,
penetrating, courteous, and, in addition, perfectly true.
"Would not you like to go away down there?"
"Yes, but how?"
"For instance, as military attaché?"
"Eckersberg is firm in the saddle!"
Scherer calculated that no more than a hundred paces or so remained
of their way together. He therefore gave a turn to the conversation,
saying:
"Those are certainly very interesting countries, but so few of our
people know anything about them. I've a lady at my office, an
extraordinarily intelligent woman, who really knows quite a lot."
"Ah," thought the major.
"As a matter of fact you know her, I fancy. Were you not in her
company at the opera the other night?"
The major noticed how careful his companion was not to mention her
name, and, following suit, he replied:
"Yes, that's right. We met after several years, and she told me she
was working for you."
"You knew one another some time ago," said Scherer in so toneless a
voice that it would seem he meant the words to hang suspended in the
air.
The major thought: "It won't do her any harm if her employer knows
that she had good connexions in the past...." Aloud he said:
"She was living at the time..."
"At the 'Bristol,'" put in the other calmly, apparently wishing to
spare the major from giving too intimate details. Then suddenly
changing his manner: "I hope you won't think me impertinent if I ask
you whether in those days she was as extraordinarily gifted, as
well-informed..."
The major felt a glow of sympathy for the speaker as these words fell
upon the night air. Memories crowded upon him. He remembered the
influence she had exercised over his career, and, crushing back the
feeling of jealousy which involuntarily rose within him, he thought
only of the use he could be in helping Diana forward in her new
sphere of life.
"Well-informed? Gifted? Certainly--so far as I could learn during
rides and at the parties where I met the young lady." Words failed
him. "Yes--she is really the--the most amazing creature I have--I
have ever met among women!"
Scherer felt warmly towards his companion, for the embarrassment with
which the words were spoken betrayed everything that the speaker
wanted to keep secret. The major must in his youth have been a man
with a good deal of experience of women! Scherer's surmises were
thus doubly confirmed. He was silent for a while. Then:
"Wasn't there a young man of the party, very like her in
appearance?..."
"Her brother."
"Ah, I thought as much. Let's sec, what was his name?" The question
was put very tentatively.
"I did not quite catch his name. I fancy he must be her stepbrother."
Scherer thought:
"He just says that in order to shield her. He is very much in love
with her."
A few hours later, by the time he reached home, his mind was made up.
The place was very quiet. He entered his study, a dignified
apartment from whose four sides the books looked at him in solemn
greeting. Works of art were few in number, and no woman's face
smiled down on this man in early middle-age as he took a seat at the
writing-table. Great undertakings, far exceeding in scope the
newspaper he had inherited from his father, had been planned in this
room. Financial schemes with political aims had been thought out
between these walls. During the long summer nights, Scherer, thinker
though he was, had given free rein to feeling. Never, however, had
he permitted a woman's hand to tamper with his work, never had he
asked a woman her advice. He had not even consulted his male friends
if a difficulty arose. Today, for the first time, he was going to
venture the hazard.
He looked up dates in his calendar. The day after tomorrow was free.
He addressed an envelope to: "Fräulein Paula Linke, Kleins Hotel."
But on the enclosed visiting card he wrote: "... requests the honour
of Fräulein Diana de Wassilko's company to dinner on Wednesday at 8
p.m."