Иоганн Вольфганг фон Гёте
German Fiction
"Oh, that takes a load off my heart," said Frau Dörr. "And what happened afterwards? I mean over in America."
"Well, after that everything went well and it was not long till he had help enough. For religious people are always helping each other. And he found customers again and got back to his old trade. And that is what he works at now, and he is in a big factory here on the Köpnickerstrasse, where they make little tubes and burners and stopcocks and everything that is needed for gas. And he is the chief man, something like a foreman carpenter or foreman mason, and has perhaps a hundred under him. And he is a very respectable man and he wears a tall hat and black gloves. And he has a good salary too."
"And Lena?"
"Oh, Lena, she would take him all right. And why not? But she cannot hold her tongue, and if he comes and says anything to her, she is going to tell him everything, all the old stories, first the one with Kuhlwein (and that is so long ago that it is just as if it never had happened), and then all about the Baron. And Franke, you must know, is a refined and well-behaved man, and really a gentleman."
"We must persuade her out of that. He does not need to know everything; why should he? We never know everything."
"Yes, yes. But Lena …"
CHAPTER XVIII
It was now June, 1878. Frau von Rienäcker and Frau von Sellenthin had spent the month of May on a visit with the young couple; and the mother and the mother-in-law had day by day convinced each other that Katherine looked paler and more bloodless and languid than she had ever been before, and needless to say they had incessantly urged that a specialist should be consulted, by whose advice, after a gynecological examination (which, by the way, proved very expensive), a four weeks' stay at the Schlangenbad health resort was pronounced indispensable and was accordingly decided upon. Schwalbach might be useful later. Katherine laughed and would not hear of any such thing, especially of Schlangenbad, "the name sounded so uncanny and she already seemed to feel a viper in her bosom," but finally she had yielded and had found in the preparations for the journey a far greater contentment than she expected from the cure itself. She went down town every day to make purchases, and was never tired of telling how she was only now beginning to understand "shopping" which was in such high favor among Englishwomen: to go from shop to shop and always to find beautiful goods and courteous people, was really a pleasure and instructive too, because one saw so much that one did not know before, perhaps not even by name. As a rule Botho took part in these little trips and excursions, and before the beginning of the last week in June, half of the Rienäckers' dwelling was turned into a little exhibition of traveller's conveniences: a brass-bound travelling trunk, which Botho, not without some show of justice, called the coffin of his property-this took the lead, then came two smaller ones of Russia leather, with satchels, rugs, and cushions, and the travelling wardrobe lay spread out over the sofa with a dust cloak over all and a pair of marvellous thick-soled laced boots, as if a trip to the glaciers were in question.
June 24th, midsummer day was set for the beginning of the journey, but the day before Katherine wanted the intimate circle to be gathered around her once more, and so Wedell and young Osten, and naturally Pitt and Serge too, were invited for a comparatively early hour. Also Katherine's special favorite Balafré, who had as a "Halberstädter" taken part in the great cavalry attack at Mars-la-Tour, and who still deserved his nickname because of a great sabre cut across his brow and cheek, a souvenir of that battle.
Katherine sat between Wedell and Balafré and did not look as if she were in need of the Schlangenbad or any other water cure in the world. She had color, laughed, asked a hundred questions and when the person of whom she had asked the question started to speak, she contented herself with a minimum in the way of reply. In fact she led the conversation, and no one was offended with her, because she was a past mistress in the art of pleasing small talk. Balafré asked how she pictured her life at the water cure. Schlangenbad was renowned not only for its wonderful cures but also for its monotony, and four weeks of monotony at a health resort would be a good deal even under the most favorable circumstances.
"Oh, dear Balafré," said Katherine, "you ought not to frighten me, and you would not if you knew how much Botho has done for me. He has got me eight novels though, to be sure, he put them in the bottom layer of my trunk; and in order that my imagination should not be prejudiced against water cures, he put in also a book about scientific fish culture."
Balafré laughed.
"Yes, you laugh, my dear friend, and yet you know only the lesser half, for the larger half (Botho, you know, never does anything without weighty reason) is his motives. Of course, what I just said about the pamphlet on fish culture being meant to prevent my taking a prejudice against the water cure was only a joke. The serious side of the matter is simply this, that I must actually read the pamphlet, and that from local patriotism, for Neumark, your happy home as well as mine, has been for a long time the birth and breeding place of scientific fish culture, and if I knew nothing of this new factor of food production, so important nationally and economically, I should never dare to show myself again on the further side of the Oder in the Landsbergerkreise, much less, however, in Verneuchen, at my Cousin Borne's."
Botho started to speak, but she cut him off and went on: "I know what you were going to say, that the eight novels were only put in 'in case of emergency.' But I think there are not likely to be any 'emergencies.' Only yesterday I had a letter from my sister Ina, who wrote me that Anna Grävenitz has already been there for a week. You know her, Wedell; she was a Miss Rohr, a charming blonde. We were together at old Frau Zülow's Pension, and we were even in the same class. And I remember how we both adored our divine Felix Bachmann, and even wrote verses, until good old Zülow said that she forbade any such nonsense. And Elly Winterfield, as Ina writes me, is apparently coming too. And now I say to myself, in company with two charming young women-and I myself for the third, even if I cannot be compared with the others-in such good company, I say, one must surely be able to live. Don't you think so, dear Balafré?"
The latter bowed with a grotesque air, which seemed to express his agreement with everything Katherine might say, except her assertion that any one might be her superior, but nevertheless he resumed his former list of questions: "If I might hear the details, gracious lady! The separate items, so to speak; one minute, may decide our happiness and unhappiness. And there are so many minutes in a day."
"Well, I think it will be like this: Every morning letters. Then a promenade concert and a walk with the two ladies, preferably in a secluded path. There we will sit down and read our letters aloud, for I hope we shall have received some, and we shall laugh if he writes tenderly and say 'Yes, yes.' And then comes the bath, and after the bath the toilette, naturally with care and enthusiasm, which in Schlangenbad may be no less amusing than in Berlin. Rather the contrary. And then we shall go to lunch and I shall have an old general on my right and a rich manufacturer on my left. From my youth on I have had a passion for manufacturers-a passion of which I am much ashamed. For either they have invented a new kind of armor plate or laid a submarine telegraphic cable or bored a tunnel or constructed an ascending railway. And beside all this, they are rich, which I do not at all despise. And after lunch, the reading-room and coffee, with the Venetian blinds let down, so that light and shade will be chasing each other across the newspaper. And then a walk, or a drive. And perhaps, if we are fortunate, a couple of cavaliers from Frankfort or Mainz may have wandered over and they may ride beside the carriage; and I must say, my friends, that compared with Hussars, whether red or blue, you are not in the fashion, and from my military standpoint it is and remains a decided blunder, that they have doubled the Dragoon Guards, but have, so to speak, simply left the Hussars alone. And it is still more incomprehensible to me that they should be left over there. Anything so special belongs in the capital."
Botho, who began to be annoyed by his wife's great talent for conversation, tried by means of little jokes and mockeries to stem the tide of her endless prattle. But his guests were far less critical than he, indeed they grew more enthusiastic than ever over "the charming little woman," and Balafré, who was over head and ears in his admiration for Katherine, said: "Rienäcker, if you say one word more against your wife, you are a dead man. My dear lady, what in the world does your ogre of a husband want? What does he find to criticise? I can't imagine. And in the end I am forced to believe that he feels his honor as a cavalryman insulted, and if you will pardon the pun, he rumples his feathers simply because he has feathers. Rienäcker, I take my oath! If I had such a wife as you have, her lightest whim would be my law, and if she wanted to turn me into a Hussar, I would join the Hussars and make an end of it. But so much I know for certain, and I would stake my life and honor on it, if his Majesty could hear such persuasive words, the Hussars would never have another quiet hour; to-morrow morning they would be in the quarters for moving troops at Zehlendorf, and day after to-morrow they would be marching into Berlin through the Brandenburg Gate. Oh these Sellenthins, whose health I drink, taking time by the forelock, the first, second, and third time in this one toast! Why have you not another sister, my dear lady? Why is Fräulein Ina already engaged? It is too soon and in any case it is my loss."
Katherine was delighted with these small flatteries and assured him that, in spite of the fact that Ina was now hopelessly lost to him, she would do everything for him that could possibly be done, although she knew perfectly well that he was an incorrigible bachelor and was only making pretty speeches.
Immediately afterwards, however, she dropped her badinage with Balafré and began to talk once more about her journey, and especially about how she thought her correspondence would be during her absence. She hoped, as she could not help repeating, that she should get a letter every day, for that was no more than the duty of an affectionate husband, and as for her, she would think it over, and only on the first day, she would show some sign of life at every station. This proposal was approved even by Rienäcker, and finally was but slightly altered, it being decided that at every important station she passed through, in spite of detours, as far as Cologne, she should write a card, but that she should put all the cards, whether they were few or many, in one envelope. This plan would have the advantage, that she could express herself freely about her travelling companions without any fear of post-office clerks and letter carriers.
After dinner they took their coffee on the balcony, where Katherine, after making some objections, appeared in her travelling costume: a Rembrandt hat and a dust cloak with a travelling satchel slung over her shoulder. She looked charming. Balafré was more enchanted than ever and begged her not to be too much surprised if the next morning she should find him anxiously squeezed into the corner of the coupé as an escort for the journey.
"Provided that he gets his furlough," laughed Pitt.
"Or that he deserts," added Serge, "which would really be the first thing that would make his devotion complete."
And so they chatted for a while longer. Then they bade their hospitable host and hostess good-bye and agreed to go together as far as the bridge at Lützow Square. Here, however, they divided into two groups, and while Balafré, Wedell and Osten sauntered further along the canal, Pitt and Serge, who were going to Kroll's, went toward the Thiergarten.
"What a charming creature that Katherine is," said Serge. "Rienäcker seems rather prosaic beside her, and then he looks at her so discontentedly and so reprovingly, as if he needed to make excuses to every one for the little woman, who to a discerning eye is really cleverer than he."
Pitt kept silence.
"And what in the world does she want at Schwalbach or Schlangenbad?" Serge went on. "That does not help matters at all. And if it does, it is usually a rather peculiar sort of help."
Pitt glanced at him sidewise. "I think. Serge, that you are growing more and more Russian, or what amounts to the same thing, you are living up to your name more and more."
"But still not enough. But joking aside, my friend, I am in earnest about one thing: Rienäcker makes me angry. What has he against the charming little woman? Do you know?"
"Yes."
"Well?"
"She is rather a little silly. Or if you prefer it in German, she babbles a bit. At all events too much for him."
CHAPTER XIX
Between Berlin and Potsdam Katherine was already drawing down the yellow curtains of the car windows to protect herself from the dazzling light which grew stronger and stronger. But on this same day no curtains were drawn in the little home on the Luise Bank and the forenoon sun shone brightly in at Frau Nimptsch's window and filled the whole room with light. Only the background was in shadow and here stood an old-fashioned bed with a high pile of red and white checked pillows, against which Frau Nimptsch was leaning. She was sitting up rather than lying down, because she had water on the lungs and was suffering severely from asthma. She kept turning her head toward the one open window, but still oftener toward the fireplace where no fire was burning to-day.
Lena was sitting by her, holding her hand, and when she saw that her mother kept looking in the same direction, she said: "Shall I make a fire, mother? I thought that you were lying warm in bed and it is such a hot day …"
The old woman did not speak, but it seemed to Lena as if she would like it. So she went and knelt down and lit a fire.
When she came back to the bed, the old woman smiled contentedly and said: "Yes, Lena, it is hot. But you know, I always want to see it. And when I do not see it, I think everything is gone and there is not a spark of life left. And there is so much trouble here…"
And she pointed to her breast and heart.
"Ah, mother, you are always thinking about dying. And yet it has passed away so many times already."
"Yes, child, it has passed away often, but it must come sometime and at seventy it may come any day. I wish you would open the other window too, so that there will be more air and the fire will burn better. Just look, it isn't burning well, it smokes so …"
"The sun does that, it is shining right on it…"
"And then give me the green drops that Frau Dörr brought me. They always help me a little."
Lena did as she was asked and when the sick woman had taken the drops, she really seemed to be a little better and easier around her heart. She propped herself up with her hands and raised herself higher, and when Lena had put another cushion behind her back, she said:
"Has Franke been here lately?"
"Yes, he was here early to-day. He always stops to inquire before he goes to the factory."
"He is a very good man."
"Yes, he is that."
"And about the Conventiclers…"
"It may not be so bad. And I almost believe that he gets his good principles from them. Do you believe so?"
The old woman smiled. "No, Lena, they come from the good God. And one has them and another has not. I don't believe very much in learning and training… And has not he said anything yet?"
"Yes, yesterday evening."
"And how did you answer him?"
"I told him that I would accept him, because I thought he was an honorable and trustworthy man, who would not only take care of me, but of you too…"
The old woman nodded her approval.
"And," Lena went on, "when I had told him that, he took my hand and exclaimed cheerfully: 'So then, Lena, it is all settled!' But I shook my head and said, not quite so fast, because I still had something to confess to him. And when he asked what it was, I told him that I had had two love affairs: First … there, mother, you know all about it … and the first I liked very much and the other I loved dearly and still cared for him. But he was now happily married and I had never seen him again but just once, and I did not want to see him again. But, since he was so good and kind to us, I felt obliged to tell him everything, because I would not deceive anyone, and certainly not him…"
"My Lord, my Lord," whimpered the old woman, while Lena was speaking.
"And directly afterwards he got up and went back to his own rooms. But I could see plainly that he was not angry. Only he would not let me go to the door with him as usual."
Frau Nimptsch was evidently anxious and uneasy, although indeed one could not tell whether the cause was what Lena had told her or the struggle for breath. But it almost seemed as if it were her breathing, for suddenly she said: "Lena, child, I am not high enough. You will have to put the song book under me too."
Lena did not contradict her, but went and got the song book. But when she brought it, her mother said: "No, not that one, that is the new one. I want the old one, the thick one with the two clasps." And when Lena came back with the thick song book, she went on: "I used to have to bring that same book to my mother too when I was not much more than a child and my mother was not yet fifty; and she suffered here too, and her great frightened eyes kept looking at me so. But when I put the Porst song book, that she had got when she was confirmed, under her, she grew perfectly quiet and fell peacefully asleep. And I want to do that too. Ah, Lena. It isn't death … but dying… There, now. Ah, that helps me."
Lena wept softly to herself and since she now saw plainly that the good old woman's last hour was very near, she sent word to Frau Dörr, that "her mother was in a bad way and would not Frau Dörr come." She sent word back, "Yes, she would come." Toward six o'clock she arrived, bustling noisily in, for she knew nothing about being quiet, even with sick people. She tramped about the room so that everything on or near the hearth shook and rattled, and at the same time she scolded about Dörr, who was always in town when he ought to be at home, and always at home when she wished he was in Jericho. Meanwhile she took the sick woman's hand and asked Lena, "whether she had given her plenty of the drops?"
"Yes."
"How many have you given her?"
"Five … five every two hours."
That was not enough, Frau Dörr assured her, and after bringing to light all her medical knowledge she added: "She had let the medicine draw in the sun for a fortnight, and if one took it properly the water would go away as if it were pumped out. Old Selke at the Zoological had been just like a cask, and for more than four months he could never go to bed, but had to be propped up straight in a chair with all the windows wide open, but when he had taken the medicine for four days, it was just as if you squeezed a pig's bladder: haven't you seen how everything goes out of it and it is all soft and limp again!"
While she was telling all this, the vigorous Frau Dörr forced the sick woman to take a double dose from her thimble.
Lena, whose anxiety was only too justly redoubled by these heroic measures, took her shawl and made ready to go for a doctor. And Frau Dörr, who was not usually in favor of doctors, had nothing to say against it this time.
"Go," said she, "she can't hold out much longer. Just look here (and she pointed to the nostrils), that means death."
Lena started; but she could scarcely have reached the square in front of Michael's church, when the old woman, who had been lying in a half doze sat upright and called: "Lena …"
"Lena is not here."
"Who is here then?"
"I, Mother Nimptsch. I, Frau Dörr."
"Ah, Frau Dörr, that is right. Come here; sit on the footstool."
Frau Dörr, who was not accustomed to receiving orders, hung back a little, but was too good-natured not to do as she was asked. And so she sat down on the stool.
And immediately the old woman began: "I want a yellow coffin and blue trimmings. But not too much…"
"Yes, Frau Nimptsch."
"And I want to be buried in the new Jacob's churchyard, behind the Rollkrug and quite far over on the road to Britz."
"Yes, Frau Nimptsch."
"And I saved up enough for all that is needed, long ago, when I was still able to save up. And it is in the top drawer. And the chemise and short gown are there and a pair of white stockings marked with N. And it is lying among the other things."
"Yes, Frau Nimptsch. Everything shall be done just as you say. And is there anything more?"
But the old woman did not seem to have heard Frau Dörr's question, and without answering, she merely folded her hands, looked up toward the ceiling with a pious and peaceful expression and prayed: "Dear Father in heaven, protect her and reward her for all that she has done for a poor old woman."
"Ah, Lena," said Frau Dörr to herself and then she added: "The good Lord will do that too, Frau Nimptsch, I know him, and I have never seen any one come to grief that was like Lena and that had such a heart and such hands as she has."
The old woman nodded and one could see that some pleasant picture was in her mind.
So the minutes passed away and when Lena came back and knocked on the door of the corridor, Frau Dörr was still sitting on the footstool and holding her old friend's hand. And only when she heard Lena knock did she lay down Frau Nimptsch's hand and go to open the door.
Lena was still out of breath. "He will be here right away… He is coming at once."
But Frau Dörr only said: "Oh Lord, the doctors!" and pointed to the dead woman.
