Theodor Fontane   

Trials and Tribulations

Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI

Chapter I   
     
AT the junction of the Kurfürstendamm and the Kurfürstenstrasse, diagonally across from the Zoological Garden, there still remained, about the middle of the seventies, a large market-garden, extending towards the open country. The little house belonging to this property had but three windows, and was set about a hundred paces back in a front garden; yet in spite of its small size and its secluded position, it could be plainly seen from the road that ran past. But all else that belonged to the place, and indeed formed the principal part of it, was hidden behind this little dwelling as if by the side-scenes of a theatre, and only little red and green painted tower with a half broken dial beneath its peak (nothing remained of the clock itself) gave one a hint, that behind this “coulisse” something more must be hidden, a hint which was confirmed from time to time by the rising and circling of a flock of pigeons around the tower, and still more by the occasional barking of a dog. Where this dog was actually kept it was indeed impossible to find out, in spite of the fact that the door of the house, which was close to the left corner, stood open early and late and afforded a glimpse of a small part of the yard. However, nothing seemed to have been purposely hidden, and yet everyone who came along the road at the time when our story begins, had to be satisfied with a glimpse of the little house with its three windows and of a few fruit trees that stood in the front garden.      1   
     
  It was the week after Whitsunday, when the days are so long that it seems as if the dazzling light would never come to an end. But to-day the sun was already hidden behind the church-tower of Wilmersdorf and instead of the light, with which it had filled the front garden all day, the shades of evening had already fallen, and the half mysterious silence was only surpassed by that of the little house which was occupied by old Frau Nimptsch and her adopted daughter Lena as tenants. But Frau Nimptsch was sitting as usual by the large low hearth in her front room, which took in the whole width of the house, and, bending forward, she was gazing at a blackened old tea kettle, whose lid kept up a continual rattling, although the steam was pouring out of the spout. The old woman was holding her hands out towards the glowing embers and was so lost in her thoughts and dreams that she did not hear the hall door open and a stout woman enter somewhat noisily. Only when the latter cleared her throat and greeted her friend and neighbor, our Frau Nimptsch, quite affectionately by name, did the latter turn around and speak to her guest in friendly fashion and with a touch of playfulness: “Well, this is good in you, dear Frau Dörr, to come over again. And from the “castle” too. For it is a castle and always will be. It has a tower. And now do sit down.… I just saw your dear husband go out. Of course he would have to. For this is his evening at the bowling alley.”      2   
  She who received this friendly greeting as Frau Dörr was not only stout, but was an especially imposing-looking woman, who produced the impression of narrow-mindedness as well as that of kindliness and trustworthiness. Mean-while Frau Nimptsch apparently took no offence and only repeated: “Yes, his evening at the bowling alley. But what I was going to say was, that Dörr’s hat really will not do any longer. It is all threadbare and really disgraceful. You ought to take it away from him and put another in its place. Perhaps he would never know the difference.… And now draw up your chair, dear Frau Dörr, or perhaps over there where the footstool is.… Lena, you know, has slipped out and left me in the lurch again.”      3   
  “Has he been here?”      4   
  “Of course he has. And they have both gone a little way towards Wilmersdorf; nobody comes along the footpath. But they may be back again any minute.”      5   
  “Well, then I had better go.”      6   
  “Oh, no indeed, dear Frau Dörr. He will not stay. And even if he should, you know, he would not mind.”      7   
  “I know, I know. And how are things then?”      8   
  “Why, how should they be? I believe she is thinking of something even if she does not want others to know it, and she is imagining something or other.”      9   
  “Oh, my goodness,” said Frau Dörr, as she drew up a somewhat higher stool instead of the footstool that had been offered her. “Oh, my goodness, then it’s bad. Whenever one begins to imagine things, trouble begins. It is just like the Amen in church. See here, dear Frau Nimptsch, it was just the very same with me, only there was no imagining. And that is just why everything was really quite different.”     10   
  Apparently Frau Nimptsch did not really understand what Frau Dörr meant, and so the latter went on: “And because I never took any notions into my head, things always went perfectly well and smoothly and now I have Dörr. Oh well, that isn’t much, but still it is something respectable and I can show my face everywhere. And that is why I went to church with him too, and not merely to the registrar’s office. If you only go to the registrar’s office, there will always be talk.”     11   
  Frau Nimptsch nodded.     12   
  But Frau Dörr repeated: “Yes, in church, in the Matthäikirche. But this is what I was really going to say, don’t you see, my dear Frau Nimptsch, I was really taller and more pleasing than Lena, and if I was not prettier (for that is something one can never rightly know and tastes differ so), yet my figure was stouter and a great many like that. Yes, so much is certain. But even if I was, as you might say, more solid and weighed more, and there was a something about me—well yes, there was something about me—yet I was always very innocent, almost simple; and as to him, my Count, with his fifty years on his shoulders, well, he was very simple too and always very gay and would never behave properly. And before very long, I told him: “No, no, Count, this will never do; I can’t allow anything like this.…” And old people are always like that. I will only say, dear Frau Nimptsch, you can’t imagine anything of the sort. It was dreadful. And now when I see Lena’s Baron, it makes me ashamed to think what mine was like. And now as to Lena herself. My Lord, of course she isn’t exactly an angel, but she is neat and industrious and knows how to do everything, and loves order and practical things. And don’t you see, Frau Nimptsch, that is just the sad part of it. These fly-abouts, that are here to-day and there to-morrow, well, they never come to grief, they always fall on their feet like a cat, but such a good child, who takes everything seriously, and does everything for the sake of love, that is bad.… Or perhaps it may not be so bad; you only adopted her and she is not your own flesh and blood and perhaps she is a princess or something like that.”     13   
  At this conjecture Frau Nimptsch shook her head and looked as if she were about to answer. But Frau Dörr had already risen and said, as she looked along the garden path: “Heavens, there they come. And he is just in civilian’s clothes, with coat and trousers to match. But you would notice him all the same! And now he is whispering something in her ear and she is smiling to herself. But she is blushing so.… And now he is going away. And now… Really, I believe, he is turning back. No, no, he is only saying good-bye again and she is throwing him a kiss.… Yes, I think something like that would have suited me.… No, mine was not like that.”     14   
  Frau Dörr went on talking, until Lena came in and greeted both women.     15

   
Chapter II   
     
THE NEXT forenoon the sun, which was already rather high, shone into the yard of the Dörr’s little establishment and lighted up a considerable number of buildings, among which was the “castle” of which Frau Nimptsch had spoken on the previous evening with roguish playfulness. Such a “castle”! In the twilight its general outlines might have passed for something of the sort, but to-day, as it stood in the remorselessly bright light, one could see only too plainly, that the building with its Gothic windows painted on the walls clear to the top, was nothing more than a wretched old wooden house, in the two gable ends of which had been set some timber framing, the spaces of which were filled with plaster, a comparatively solid structure which indicated two gable rooms. All the rest of the house was merely a stone-paved space from which a confused looking set of ladders led to a loft or garret and from that to the tower which served as a pigeon house. Formerly, before Dörr’s time, the whole great wooden “shack” had served merely as a store-house for bean poles and watering pots, perhaps even as a potato cellar, but since, some years ago, the garden had been bought by its present owner, the real dwelling house had been rented to Frau Nimptsch, and the old building painted in the Gothic style, with the addition of the two gable rooms already mentioned, had been arranged as a dwelling for Dörr, who was then a widower; a very primitive arrangement it was, which was in no wise altered by his speedy second marriage. In the summer this cool store house with its stone pavements and almost no windows was not a bad dwelling place, but in the winter Dörr and his wife as well as a rather feeble-minded twenty-year-old son of the former marriage, would have actually frozen, had it not been for the two big hothouses which stood on the other side of the yard. In these the three Dörrs spent their time exclusively from November until March, but even in the warmer and more comfortable part of the year, the family life, when it was not actually necessary to seek refuge from the sun, was mostly carried on in front of these hot houses or in them, because everything there was more convenient. Here were the steps and shelves on which the flowers that were brought out of the hothouses every morning had their airing, here was the stall for the cow and the goat, and here the kennel for the dog that was used to pull the little wagon, and from here extended outward the double row of hotbeds, perhaps fifty paces long, and with a little path between, until they reached the vegetable garden which lay further back. This garden did not look very neat, partly because Dörr had no sense of order, and also because he had such a passion for poultry, that he would allow his favorites to scratch and pick everywhere, without regard to the damage that they did. To be sure, the damage was not great, for there was nothing very fine in the garden except the asparagus beds. Dörr thought that the commonest things were also the most profitable, and therefore raised marjoram and other herbs for seasoning sausages, especially “borré,” concerning which he held the opinion that a genuine Berliner really needs only three things: his pale ale, his “gilka” and “borré.” “With borré,” he always concluded, “one is never at a loss.” He was decidedly an eccentric, wholly self-sufficient in his views and was decidedly indifferent as to what might be said about him. His second marriage was in keeping with this tendency, a marriage of inclination, upon which the idea of his wife’s unusual beauty had had its effect as well as her former relation to the Count, which instead of injuring her chances, had tipped the balance for the better and had simply served as a complete proof that her charms were irresistible. If there was any hint of overvaluing personal charms—and there was good ground for this opinion—it could not be on the side of Dörr himself, for whom nature, so far as outward appearances were concerned, had done uncommonly little. Thin, of medium height and with five strands of grey hair drawn over his head and brow, his looks would have been completely ordinary had not a brown mole between his eye and his left temple given him a certain mark of distinction. For this reason his wife, with some reason and in her own free and easy fashion used to say: “He is withered looking, but from the left he reminds me of a “Borsdorfer.”      1   
  This description was well hit off and would have served to identify him anywhere if he had not continually worn a linen cap with a big visor, which being drawn well down over his face, hid its every-day as well as its unusual aspect.      2   
  And so, with his cap and visor drawn down over his face, he stood once more, on the day after the conversation between Frau Dörr and Frau Nimptsch, before a flower stand that stood against the front greenhouse, setting to one side various wallflower and geranium pots, which were to go to the weekly market on the morrow. They were all plants that had not been raised in pots, but simply set into them, and with especial joy and satisfaction he passed them in review, laughing beforehand at the “madams,” who would come the next day to spend their usual five pfennigs, but in the end would be fooled. He considered this one of his greatest pleasures and indeed it was the principal part of his mental life. “If I could only hear them scold about it … If I only could.”      3   
  He was talking to himself in this vein, when he heard from the garden the barking of a little cur together with the distressed crowing of a cock, and unless he was very much deceived, of his cock, his favorite with the silvery feathers. And looking toward the garden, he actually saw his flock of hens rushing this way and that, while the cock had flown up in a pear tree, from which he constantly called for help while the dog barked beneath.      4   
  “Thunder and lightning,” cried Dörr in a rage. “There is Bollmann’s dog again.… He has got through the fence again.… But we shall see.”… And quickly setting down the geranium pot that he was examining, he ran to the dog kennel, caught up the hook of the chain and turned the big dog loose, who rushed furiously through the garden. But before he could reach the pear tree, “Bollmann’s beast” had already given leg bail and was disappearing under the fence into the open, the big yellow dog pursuing him with great leaps. But the gap that had sufficed for the pug would not let him through, and he was forced to give up the chase.      5   
  Dörr himself had no better luck, when he came up with a rake and exchanged glances with the dog. “Well, Sultan, we didn’t catch him this time.” And so Sultan trotted back to his kennel in a slow, puzzled way, as if he had been blamed for something. But Dörr himself gazed after the pug who was running over the ploughed ground and said to himself presently: “The Devil take me, if I don’t get me an air gun at Mehle’s or somewhere. And then I’ll get the beast out of the way so silently that neither cock nor hen will make a sound. Not even mine.”      6   
  The cock, however, seemed to have for the present no use for the quiet attributed to him by Dörr, but continued to use his voice just as strenuously as before. And meanwhile he puffed out his silver white throat as proudly as if he wanted to show the hens that his flying up into the pear tree was a well-considered “coup” or else a mere whim.      7   
  But Dörr said: “Oh Lord, what a cock. He thinks he is something wonderful. And yet his courage doesn’t amount to much.”      8   
  And so saying he went back to his flower stand.      9

Chapter III   
     
THE WHOLE incident had also been observed by Frau Dörr, who was cutting asparagus, but she paid very little attention, because such things happened nearly every other day. So she kept on with her work, and only gave up the search, when even the sharpest scrutiny of the beds failed to reveal any more white heads. Only then did she hang the basket on her arm, putting the knife in it, and driving a couple of strayed chickens before her, while she walked slowly along the middle path of the garden and then into the yard and up to the flower stand, where Dörr had resumed his work for the market.      1   
  “Well, Susy,” he greeted his better half, “here you are. Did you see? Bollmann’s dog was here again. Listen, he had better say his prayers and then I will try him out over the fire; there must be a little fat on him and Sultan can have the scraps.… And listen, Susy, dog’s fat.… And he appeared to become absorbed in a favorite method of treating gout which he had been considering for some time. But at this moment he caught sight of the asparagus basket on his wife’s arm, and interrupted himself. “Come, show it to me,” he said. “Did you have good luck?”      2   
  “So so,” said Frau Dörr, holding out the scarcely half-filled basket, whose contents he passed through his fingers, shaking his head. For most of the stalks were thin and there were many broken ones among them.      3   
  “Now, Susy, listen. You certainly have no eye for asparagus.”      4   
  “Yes I have, too. But I can’t work magic.”      5   
  “Oh well, we will not quarrel, Susy; that will not make it any more than it is. But it looks like starvation.”      6   
  “Why, not at all. They are all under ground, and whether they come up to-day or to-morrow, it is all the same. One good shower, such as we had before Whitsunday, and then you will see. And there is going to be rain. The water barrel is already smelling again and the big spider has crept into the corner. But you want to have everything every day; and you can’t expect that.”      7   
  Dörr laughed. “Well, tie it all up nicely. And the poor little stalks too. And then you can sell it a little cheaper.”      8   
  “Now, don’t talk like that,” interrupted his wife, who always got angry over his avarice, but still she pulled his ear, which he always regarded as a sign of affection, and then she went over to the “castle,” where she meant to make herself comfortable in the stone paved passageway and tie up her asparagus in bunches. But she had scarcely drawn up to the threshold the stool which always stood ready, than she heard, over in the little house with three windows where Frau Nimptsch lived, a back window pushed up vigorously and a moment later hooked in place. And then she saw Lena with a lilac and white jacket over her woolen skirt and a cap on her ash-blond hair, waving a friendly greeting to her.      9   
  Frau Dörr returned the greeting with equal warmth and said: “The window always open; that’s right, Lena. It is already beginning to grow hot. Some change must be coming.”     10   
  “Yes. And mother already has her headache from the heat, and so I would rather iron in the back room. It is pleasanter here too; at the front we don’t see anybody.”     11   
  “That is so,” answered Frau Dörr. “I believe I will come over to the window for a bit. I can always work better when I have some one to talk to.”     12   
  “How kind and good you are, Frau Dörr. But right here by the window the sun is so strong.”     13   
  “That will do no harm, Lena. I will bring my market umbrella along, the old thing is covered with patches. But it serves its purpose still.”     14   
  And within five minutes, good Frau Dörr had moved her stool over by the window and sat there as comfortable and self-satisfied as if she were at the regular market. Inside the room Lena had put the ironing board across two chairs close to the window and stood so near it that it would have been easy to reach her with one’s hand. Meanwhile the flatiron moved busily back and forth. And Frau Dörr also was diligently choosing and binding up her asparagus and if she paused from her work now and then and glanced into the room, she could see the glow of the little ironing stove from which the fresh coals were taken for the flatiron.     15   
  “You might just bring me a plate, Lena, a plate or a dish.” And when Lena brought what Frau Dörr had asked, the good woman dropped into the dish the broken pieces of asparagus which she had kept in her apron while she was sorting out the stalks. “There, Lena, that will make a little taste of asparagus. And it is just as good as the rest. For it is all nonsense that you must always have the heads. And it is just the same with cauliflower; always the flower … pure imagination. The stump is really the best, for the strength of the plant is there. And the strength is always the most important thing.”     16   
  “Heavens, you are always so good, Frau Dörr. But what will your husband say?”     17   
  “He? What he says doesn’t matter. He will be talking. He always wants me to put in the spindling ones with the rest as if they were real stalks; but I don’t like such cheating tricks, even if the broken pieces do taste just as good as the whole stalks. What anyone pays for, he ought to get, only it makes me angry that a man who gets on so well should be such an old skinflint. But all gardeners are like that, skimp and grasp and then they can never get enough.”     18   
  “Yes,” laughed Lena, “he is greedy and a bit peculiar. But for all that he is a good man.”     19   
  “Yes, Lena, he is well enough so far, and even his stinginess would not be so bad, for at least it is better than wastefulness, if only he were not too fond. You would not believe it, but he is always right there. And just look at him. I have nothing but bother with him for all that he is fifty-six years old, and maybe a year more. For he tells lies if it suits him to. I keep telling him about strokes of apoplexy and point out people who limp or have their mouths drawn to one side, but he always laughs and will not believe me. But it will happen. Yes, Lena, I have no doubt that it will happen. And perhaps soon. Well, he has willed me everything he has and so I will not say anything more. When one has made one’s bed, one must lie in it. But why are we talking about Dörr and strokes, and his bow legs. Good Lord, Lena, there are plenty of other folks who are as straight as a fir tree. Aren’t there, Lena?”     20   
  At this Lena grew still more rosy than before, and said: “The charcoal is cold.” And stepping back from the board, she went to the stove and shook the coal back among the embers, so as to take out a new one. All this was the work of a moment. And now with a quick turn of the hand she slipped the new hot coal from the tongs into the iron, shut the little door, and only then noticed that Frau Dörr was still waiting for an answer. But to make sure, the good woman asked the question over again and added: “Is he coming to-day?”     21   
  “Yes. At least he promised to.”     22   
  “Now tell me, Lena,” went on Frau Dörr, “how did it really begin? Mother Nimptsch never says much, and if she does say anything, it doesn’t amount to much, and I never get the ins and outs of it. For she only tells part and that all confused. Now do tell me. Is it true that you met in Stralau?”     23   
  “Yes, Frau Dörr, it was in Stralau, on Easter Monday, but it was already as warm as if it were Whitsunday, and because Lina Gansauge likes boating, we took a skiff; and Lina’s brother Rudolph, whom I think you know, took the rudder.”     24   
  “Heavens, Rudolph. Rudolph is a mere boy.”     25   
  “That is so. But he thought he knew all about it, and he kept saying: ‘You must sit still, girls; you rock the boat so,’ for he speaks with such a frightful Berlin accent. But we didn’t think of doing such a thing, because we soon saw that his steering wasn’t good for much. But by and by we forgot all about it, and let ourselves go, and joked with those we met, and splashed each other with water. And in the only boat that was going in the same direction that we were, sat a pair of very fine gentlemen, who saluted us, and we were so reckless that we returned their greetings and Lina even waved her handkerchief, and behaved as if she knew the gentlemen, which however was not the case, and she only wanted to show off, because she is so young. And while we were laughing and joking like that, and only playing with the oars, we saw all at once that the steamer from Treptow was coming towards us, and as you can imagine, dear Frau Dörr, we were frightened to death and called out to Rudolph that he must steer us out of the way. But the boy had lost his head and just steered us round and round in a circle. And then we began to scream and we should surely have been run down if the two gentlemen in the other boat had not at that very moment taken pity on us in our trouble. With a couple of strokes they reached us and while one of them took firm hold of us with a boat hook and made us fast to their boat, the other rowed their boat and ours out of the wake of the steamboat, and only once more did it seem as if the big waves would capsize us. The captain shook his fist at us (I saw that for all my fright), but that was soon over and in another minute we had reached Stralau and the two gentlemen, to whom we owed our rescue, jumped out and gave us their hands and helped us out like regular escorts. And so there we stood on the slip at Tübbecke’s, feeling very bashful and Lina was crying softly and only Rudolph, who is always obstinate and boastful, and doestn’t like soldiers, looked sullenly before him, as if to say: ‘Nonsense, I could have steered you out all right myself.’     26   
  “Yes, that is what he is, a boastful young rascal; I know him. But now tell me about the two gentlemen. That is the chief thing.…”     27   
  “Well, they did what they could for us and then took their places at another table and kept looking over at us. And when we were ready to go home, towards seven o’clock, and it was growing a little dark, one of them came to us and asked “whether he and his friend might offer to escort us?” And I laughed rather recklessly and said, “they had rescued us and one must not refuse anything to one’s rescuer, But they had really better think about it a little, for we lived almost at the other end of the earth. And it would be really quite a journey.” Thereupon he answered politely, “All the better.” And meanwhile the other man had come up.… Ah, dear Frau Dörr, perhaps it was not right, to talk so freely at first sight, but one of them took my fancy, and I never knew how to put on any prim airs. And so we walked all the long way home together, first by the Spree and then by the canal.”     28   
  “And how about Rudolph!”     29   
  “He followed after, as if he had nothing to do with us, but he used his eyes and noticed everything. And that was quite right; for Lina is only eighteen and is still a good, innocent child!”     30   
  “Do you think so?”     31   
  “Certainly, Frau Dörr. You only need to look at her. You can see that at once.”     32   
  “Yes, usually. But once in a while you can’t. And so they saw you home?”     33   
  “Yes, Frau Dörr     34   
  “And afterwards?”     35   
  “Yes, afterwards. But you know already how it was afterwards. He came the following day to inquire. And ever since he has come often, and I am always glad when he comes. Heavens, it does make one happy to see a little of life. It is often so lonely, away out here. And you know, Frau Dörr, mother has nothing against it and always says: ‘Child, that does no harm. Before you know it, you will be old.’”     36   
  “Yes indeed,” said Frau Dörr, “I have often heard Frau Nimptsch speak like that. And she is quite right too. That is to say, just as one takes it, and to live according to the catechism is really better and, so to speak, actually the best way. You may take my word for it. But I know very well, things do not always go that way, and a great many are not willing to follow those rules. And if one will not, one will not, and things must take their own course as they usually do, so long as one is honest and decent and keeps his word. And naturally, whatever happens, one must put up with it and must not be surprised. And if one knows all this and keeps it in mind, well, then it is not so bad. And really, fanciful notions are the only thing that does any harm.”     37   
  “Oh, dear Frau Dörr, laughed Lena, “what can you be thinking of? Fanciful notions! I have no fancy notions. If I love anyone, I love him. And that is enough for me. And I want nothing more from him, nothing at all. And it makes me happy that my heart beats so and that I count the hours till he comes, and that I cannot wait until I see him again, that is my joy, and it is enough for me.”     38   
  “Yes,” said Frau Dörr smiling to herself, “that is right, that is as it should be. But Lena, is his name really Botho? No one could have such a name; it is no sort of a Christian name.”     39   
  “But it is, Frau Dörr, and Lena seemed as if she wanted to prove the fact that there were such names. But before she could succeed, Sultan barked and one could plainly hear the sound of some one entering from the corridor. The letter carrier came in and brought two orders for Dörr and a letter for Lena.     40   
  “My Lord, Hahnke,” exclaimed Frau Dörr to the man on whose brow the great drops stood, “you are dripping with sweat. Is it so frightfully hot? And only half-past nine. I see very well that there isn’t much fun in being a letter carrier.”     41   
  And the good soul started to go and get a glass of fresh milk. But Hahnke refused with thanks. “I have no time, Frau Dörr. Some other day.” And with these words he left at once.     42   
  Meanwhile Lena had opened her letter.     43   
  “Well, what does he say?”     44   
  “He isn’t coming to-day, but to-morrow. Oh, what a long time it is till to-morrow. It is good thing that I have work; the more work the better. And this afternoon I’ll come over to your garden and help you dig. But I don’t want Dörr to be there.”     45   
  “The Lord forbid.”     46   
  And then they separated and Lena went into the front room to give her old mother the dish of asparagus from Frau Dörr.

Chapter IV   
     
AND now the next evening had come, the time for Baron Botho’s promised visit. Lena was walking up and down in the front garden, but in the large front room Frau Nimptsch sat as usual by the hearth, while to-day again the whole Dörr family had grouped themselves around her. Frau Dörr was knitting with big wooden needles on a blue woolen jacket for her husband, and the work, as yet quite shapeless, lay on her lap like a great fleece. Near her, with his legs comfortably crossed, Dörr was smoking a clay pipe, while his son sat in a big grandfather’s chair close to the window, leaning his red head against the “wing” of the chair. Every morning he was up by cockcrow, so to-day he had once more fallen asleep through weariness. There was but little talk, and so nothing was to be heard but the clicking of the needles and the chattering of the squirrel, which from time to time came out of his box and gazed curiously about. The only light came from the fire on the hearth and the afterglow of the sunset.      1   
  Frau Dörr sat so that she could look along the garden path and in spite of the twilight she could see who was coming along the road, past the hedge.      2   
  “Ah, there he comes,” said she. “Now, Dörr, just let your pipe go out. You are just like a chimney to-day, puffing and smoking all day long. And such a stinking old pipe as yours is not fit for everyone.”      3   
  Dörr did not let such speeches trouble him much and before his wife could say any more or repeat her verdict, the Baron came in. He was visibly mellow, as he had just come from a punch bowl, which had been the subject of a wager at the club, and said, as he took Frau Nimptsch’s hand: “Good evening, mother. I hope all is well with you. Ah, and Frau Dörr; and Herr Dörr, my favorite old friend. See here, Dörr, what do you say to the weather? Specially ordered for you and for me too. My meadows at home, that are under water four years out of five and bear nothing but crow’s foot, such weather will do them good. And it will do Lena good too; she can stay out of doors more; she is growing too pale to suit me.”      4   
  Meanwhile Lena had drawn up a wooden chair near her old mother, because she knew that this was Baron Botho’s favorite place; but Frau Dörr, who was fully impressed with the idea that a Baron must occupy the seat of honor, had meanwhile risen, and with the blue fleecy mass trailing after her, she called out to her stepson: “Will you get up! I say, now. If there is nothing in him, it’s no use to expect anything from him.” The poor boy stood up, all stupid and sleepy and was going to give up his seat, but the Baron would not allow it. “For heaven’s sake, dear Frau Dörr, leave the poor boy alone. I would far rather sit on a bench, like my friend Dörr here.”      5   
  And therewith he pushed the chair, which Lena still had ready for him, beside the old mother and said as he sat down:      6   
  “Here beside Frau Nimptsch is the best place. I know of no other fireplace that I am as fond of; there is always fire, always warmth. yes, Mutterchen, that is true, this is the best place.”      7   
  “Oh my soul,” said the old woman. “This is the best place! In an old washerwoman’s house.”      8   
  “Certainly. And why not? Every class and calling is worthy of respect. And a washerwoman too. Do you know, Mutterchen, that here in Berlin there was a famous poet who wrote a poem about his old washerwoman?”      9   
  “Is it possible?”     10   
  “Of course it is possible. Moreover it is true. And do you know what he said at the end? He said that he wished he could live and die like his old washerwoman. Yes, that is what he said.”     11   
  “Is it possible?” said the old woman to herself once more, simpering a little.     12   
  “And do you know, Mutterchen, now don’t you forget it, he was quite right, and I say the very same? Oh yes, you laugh to yourself. But just look about you here. How do you live? Like the good Lord in France. In the first place, you have your house and hearth, and then the garden and Frau Dörr. And then you have Lena. Haven’t you? But what has become of her?”     13   
  He would have gone on talking, but just then Lena came in with a tray, on which was a carafe of water and some cider, for which the Baron had a preference not easily to be understood, but for his belief in its wonderful curative properties.     14   
  “Why Lena, how you spoil me. But you should not offer it to me so formally. It seems just as if I were at the club. You must bring it to me in your hand, it tastes best that way. And now give me your little hand, and let me stroke it. No, no, the left one; that is nearest the heart. And now sit right there, between Herr and Frau Dörr, so that you will be opposite me and I can see you all the time. I have been happy all day, looking forward to this time.”     15   
  Lena laughed.     16   
  “Perhaps you don’t believe it? But I can prove it to you, Lena, for I have brought you something from the fine party that we had yesterday. And when one has a little present to bring, he always feels happy about the girl who is to receive it. Isn’t that so, my dear Dörr?”     17   
  Dörr grinned, but Frau Dörr said: “Lord, he? He bring presents? Dörr is all for scraping and saving. That is the way with gardeners. But I am curious to see what the Herr Baron has brought.”     18   
  “Well, then I will not keep you waiting any longer, or else dear Frau Dörr might think I have brought a golden slipper or some such thing out of a fairy story. But this is all it is.”     19   
  And therewith he gave Lena a paper bag, from which, unless all signs failed, the fringed ends of some snapping bonbons peeped out.     20   
  They proved to be snapping bonbons and the bag was passed around.     21   
  “But now we must pull one, Lena. Hold on tight and shut your eyes.”     22   
  Frau Dörr was delighted when the cracker snapped, and still more so when Lena’s forefinger began to bleed. “That doesn’t hurt, Lena, I know it doesn’t. It is just like a bride who pricks her finger. I used to know one who was so crazy about it, that she kept pricking herself and sucked and sucked, as if it were something wonderful.     23   
  Lena blushed. But Frau Dörr did not notice and went on: “And now read the verse, Herr Baron.”     24   
  And this is what he read:
           When two forget themselves for love,   
God and the angles rejoice above.   
  25   
  “Heavens,” said Frau Dörr, folding her hands. “That is just like something out of a song book. Is the verse always so pious?”     26   
  “I hope not,” said Botho. “Not always. Come, dear Frau Dörr, let us pull one and see what we shall get out of it.”     27   
  And then he pulled again and read:
           Where Love’s dart has struck well,   
Wide open stand both heaven and hell.   
  28   
  “Now, Frau Dörr, what do you say to that? It sounds different, doesn’t it?”     29   
  “Yes,” said Frau Dörr, “it sounds different. But I don’t quite like it.… If I pull a bonbon.…”     30   
  “Well?”     31   
  “Then I don’t want anything about hell to come out, I don’t want to hear that there is any such thing.”     32   
  “Nor I either,” laughed Lena. “Frau Dörr is quite right: for that matter, she is always right. But really, when one reads such averse, one has always something to start with, I mean to begin a conversation with, for the beginning is always the hardest, just as it is with writing letters. And I simply cannot imagine how you can begin a conversation at once with no more ado, with so many strange ladies, for you are not all acquainted with each other.”     33   
  “Oh, my dear Lena,” said Botho, “it isn’t so hard as you think. It is really quite easy. If you like, I will give you a dinner-table conversation now.”     34   
  Frau Dörr and Frau Nimptsch said that they would like to hear it and Lena too nodded her assent.     35   
  “Now,” went on Baron Botho, “you must imagine that you are a little Countess. And I have just escorted you to the table and sat down and we are taking the first spoonful of soup.”     36   
  “Very well. But what now?”     37   
  “And now I say to you: ‘If I am not mistaken, I saw you yesterday at the flower show, you and your mother together. It is not surprising. The weather entices us out every day now and we might almost say that it is fit for travelling. Have you made any plans for the summer, Countess?’ And now you answer, that unfortunately nothing is settled yet, because your papa is determined to go to Bavaria, while your dearest wish is to see Saxon Switzerland with the Königstein and the Bastei.”     38   
  “It really is,” laughed Lena.     39   
  “You see, that goes very well. And then I go on: ‘Yes, gracious Countess, in that we share the same tastes. I prefer Saxon Switzerland to any other part of the world, even to the actual Switzerland itself. One cannot always revel in the grander aspects of nature, and clamber and get out of breath all the time. But Saxon Switzerland! Heavenly, ideal. There is Dresden; in a quarter or a half hour I can be there, and I can see pictures, the theatre, the great gardens, the Zwinger, and the green vault. Do not neglect to see the tankard with the foolish virgins, and above all things that cherry stone, on which the whole of the Lord’s prayer is carved. It can only be seen through the magnifying glass.’”     40   
  “So that is the way you talk!”     41   
  “Exactly, my darling. And when I have paid sufficient attention to my left-hand neighbor, that is, the Countess Lena, I turn to my right-hand neighbor, that is, to Madame the Baroness Dörr.…”     42   
  Frau Dörr was so delighted that she slapped her knee with a loud noise.…     43   
  “So I am to converse with Madame the Baroness Dörr? And what shall we talk about? Well, say we talk about mushrooms.”     44   
  “But, great heavens, mushrooms. About mushrooms, Herr Baron, that would never do.”     45   
  “Oh why not, why shouldn’t it do, dear Frau Dörr? That is a very serious and instructive subject and is more important than you think. I once visited a friend in Poland, a comrade in my regiment and also during the war, who lived in a great castle; it was red and had two huge towers, and was so fearfully old, that you never see anything like it nowadays. And the last room was living room; for he was unmarried, because he was a woman hater.…”     46   
  “Is it possible?”     47   
  “And everywhere the old rotten boards were trodden through and wherever there were a couple of boards lacking, there was a mushroom bed, and I passed by all the mushroom beds, until at last I came to his room.”     48   
  “Is it possible?” repeated Frau Dörr and added: “Mushrooms! But one cannot always be talking about mushrooms.”     49   
  “No, not always. But really quite often, and anyway it makes no difference what you talk about. If it isn’t mushrooms it is ‘champignons,’ and if it is not the red castle in Poland it is Schloss Tegel or Saatwinkel, or Valentinswerder. Or Italy or Paris, or the city railway, or whether the Panke should be filled in. It is all the same. One can always talk a little about anything, whether it is especially pleasing or not. And ‘yes’ is just as good as ‘no.’”     50   
  “But,” said Lena, “if all the talk is so empty, I am surprised that you should go into such company.”     51   
  “Oh you see beautiful women and handsome gowns and sometimes you catch glances that will betray a whole romance, if you look sharp. And anyway, it does not last long, so that you still have a chance to make up for lost time at the club. And at the club it is really charming, for there the artificial talk ceases and reality begins. Yesterday I took Pitt’s black mare from him.”     52   
  “Who is Pitt?”     53   
  “Oh, those are just names that we have among ourselves, and we use them when we are together. The Crown Prince himself says Vicky, in speaking of Victoria. It really is pleasant that there are such affectionate pet names. But listen, the concert is beginning over there. Can’t we open the windows, so as to hear it better? You are already tapping with your foot. How would it do for us to take our places and try a Quadrille or a Française? We have three couples: Father Dörr and good Frau Nimptsch, and Frau Dörr and I (I beg the honor) and then comes Lena with Hans.”     54   
  Frau Dörr agreed at once, but Dörr and Frau Nimptsch declined, the latter because she was too old, the former because he was not used to such fine doings.     55   
  “Very well, Father Dörr. But then you must beat time; Lena, give him the tray and a spoon. And now come, ladies. Frau Dörr, your arm. And now Hans, wake up, be lively.”     56   
  And both pairs actually took their places and Frau Dörr’s stateliness visibly increased, as her partner began in a formal, dancing-master’s French: “En avant deux, Pas de Basque.” The poor sleepy freckle-faced boy looked about mechanically and allowed himself to be shoved here and there, but the three others danced as if they knew how, and old Dörr was so delighted that he jumped up and beat time on his tray with his knuckles instead of with his spoon. The spirit of other days seemed to return to Frau Nimptsch also, and since she found nothing better to do, she poked the fire until the flames leaped up.     57   
  This went on until the music stopped; Botho led Frau Dörr back to her place, but Lena still stood there, because the poor awkward boy did not know what he ought to do with her. But that suited Botho exactly, for when the music at the garden began again, he began to waltz with her, and to whisper to her, how charming she was, more charming than ever.     58   
  They had all grown warm, especially Frau Dörr, who now stood close to the open window. “Lord, how I am shivering,” said she suddenly, whereupon Both courteously sprang forward to close the window. But Frau Dörr would not hear of such a thing and said, the fine people were all wild about fresh air, and many of them so much so that the bed coverings froze to their mouths in winter. Their breath was just like the steam from the spout of the kettle. So the window must stay open, she would not give up that point. But if dear Lena had something comforting to give them, something to warm the cockles of the heart …     59   
  “Certainly, Frau Dörr, whatever you want. I can make tea, or punch, or better still, I have the cherry brandy, that you gave Mother Nimptsch and me last Christmas for my big Christmas cake.”     60   
  And before Frau Dörr could decide between punch and tea, the flask of cherry brandy was already there, with small and large glasses which each could fill according to their own desire. And now Lena went around, the block kettle in her hand, and poured the boiling water into the glasses. “Not too much, Lena, not too much. Let us get the good of it. Water takes away the strength.” And in a moment the room was full of the rising aroma of cherry brandy.     61   
  “How nicely you did that,” said Botho, as he sipped from his glass. “Lord knows, I had nothing yesterday, nor to-day at the club that tasted like this. Hurrah for Lena! But the chief credit of it all belongs to our friend, Frau Dörr, because she had that shivering fit, and so I am going to drink a second health. Frau Dörr; Hurrah for Frau Dörr.”     62   
  “Long may she live,” shouted all the group together, and old Dörr began to thump his tray with his knuckles again.     63   
  They all pronounced it a delicate drink, far finer than punch extract, which in summer always tastes of sour lemon, because you mostly get old bottles, which have been standing in the hot sun, in shop windows, ever since Shrove Tuesday. But cherry brandy was something wholesome and never spoiled, and rather than poison one’s self with that bitter almond poison one ought to take some proper good stuff, at least a bottle.     64   
  It was Frau Dörr who made this remark, and her husband, who did not want things to go too far, perhaps because he knew his wife’s pet weakness, urged their departure: “There will be another day to-morrow.”     65   
  Botho and Lena asked them to stay a while longer. But good Frau Dörr, who well knew “that one must yield at the proper time, in order to keep the upper hand,” merely said: “Never mind, Lena. I know him; he wants to go to bed with the birds.” “Well,” said Botho, “what is settled is settled. But at least we will escort the Dörrs home.”     66   
  And therewith everybody went out, excepting old Frau Nimptsch, who looked after her departing friends amiably, nodding her head, and then got up and seated herself in the big grandfather chair.

   
Chapter V   
     
LENA and Botho paused before the “castle” with the green and red painted tower and asked Dörr with considerable formality for permission to go into the garden and walk there for half an hour. The evening was so fine. Father Dörr muttered that he could not leave his property in better hands, whereupon the young couple took leave, bowing courteously, and went into the garden. Everything was already quiet, and only Sultan, whom they had to pass, got up, and whimpered until Lena had stroked him. After that he crawled back into his kennel.      1   
  In the garden all was perfume and freshness, for all the way along the principal path, between the currant and gooseberry bushes, grew gilly flowers and mignonette, whose delicate perfume mingled with the more powerful odour of the thyme beds. Nothing stirred in the trees, and only the fireflies darted through the air.      2   
  Lena was hanging on Botho’s arm and they walked together to the end of the garden, where a bench stood between two silver poplars.      3   
  “Shall we sit down?”      4   
  “No,” said Lena, “not now,” and the turned into a side path bordered with tall raspberry bushes which nearly overtopped the garden fence. “I love to walk leaning on your arm. Tell me about something—something really pretty. Or ask me about something.”      5   
  “Very well. Are you willing that I should have more of a friendship with the Dörr?”      6   
  “As far as I am concerned.”      7   
  “A curious couple. And moreover, I think, they are happy. He has to do as she wishes, and yet he is far cleverer than she.”      8   
  “Yes,” said Lena, “he is cleverer, but then he is miserly and hard-hearted and that makes him docile, because he always has a bad conscience. She looks after him sharply and will not allow it, if he tries to overreach anyone. And that is what he is afraid of, and that makes him yielding.”      9   
  “Is that all?”     10   
  “Perhaps love, too, if it does sound strange. I mean love on his side. For in spite of his fifty-six years or more he is perfectly wild over his wife, simply because she is stout. Both of them have made me the most wonderful confessions about that. But I confess frankly, she is not to my taste.”     11   
  “But you are wrong there, Lena; she makes quite a figure.”     12   
  “Yes,” laughed Lena, “she makes a figure, but she has none. Can’t you see, that her hips are a hand’s breath too high? But you never see anything like that, and ‘figure’ and ‘imposing’ are every other word with you, without any concern as to the origin of that ‘imposing figure.’”     13   
  Chatting and teasing each other thus they paused and stooped down to see if they could find an early strawberry in the bed that lay in front of the hedge and fence. Finally Lena found what she wanted, took the stem of a perfect beauty between her lips and came close up to Botho and looked at him.     14   
  He was nothing loth, plucked the berry from her lips and embraced and kissed her.     15   
  “My sweet Lena, you did that just right. But just hear how Sultan in barking; he wants to get to you; shall I let him loose?”     16   
  “No, if he is here, you are only half mine. And if you keep on talking about ‘stately Frau Dörr,’ then I have as good as nothing left of you at all.”     17   
  “Good,” laughed Botho, “Sultan may stay where he is. I am contented. But I want to talk more about Frau Dörr. Is she really so good?”     18   
  “Yes, she really is, for all that she says strange things—things that sound as if they have a double meaning and perhaps really have. But she knows nothing about that, and in her doings and behavior there is not the least thing that could recall her past.”     19   
  “Has she a past then?”     20   
  “Yes. At least she had some sort of a relation for years and ‘went with him’ as she calls it. And there is no sort of doubt that there was plenty of talk about that affair, and of course about good Frau Dörr herself. And she herself must have given occasion for it again and again. Only she is so simple that she never gave it a thought, still less reproached anyone. She speaks of it as an unpleasant service, that she faithfully and honorably fulfilled, simply from a sense of duty. You man laugh, and it does sound queer. But I don’t know any other way to tell it. And now let us leave Frau Dörr alone and sit down and look at the crescent moon.”     21   
  And in fact, the moon stood just above the elephant house, which, in the flood of silver light, looked even more fantastic than usual. Lena pointed to it, drew her hood closer and hid her face on Botho’s breast.     22   
  So the minutes passed by, silent and happy, and only when Lena aroused, as if from a dream that escaped her, and sat up again, did she say: “What were you thinking of? But you must tell me the truth.”     23   
  “What was I thinking of, Lena? Why, I am almost ashamed to tell you. I had some sentimental thoughts and was thinking of our kitchen garden at Castle Zehden, which is laid out so much like this of the Dörr’s, the same lettuce beds with cherry trees between and I would almost wager, just as many bird houses. And even the asparagus beds run the same way. And I would walk amongst them with my mother and if she was in a good humor, she would give me the knife and let me help her. But woe be unto me if I were careless and cut the asparagus stalk too long or too short. My mother’s hand was hasty.”     24   
  “I well believe it. And I always feel as if I ought to be afraid of her.”     25   
  “Afraid? How so? Why, Lena?”     26   
  Lena laughed merrily and yet her laughter was a trifle forced. “You must not take it into your head that I have any intention of presenting myself before the gracious lady; you must just feel as if I had said that I am afraid of the Empress. That would not make you think that I meant to go to court? No, don’t be afraid; I shall never complain of you.”     27   
  “No, you wouldn’t do that. You are much too proud for that, and then you are a regular little democrat, and every friendly word has to be almost choked out of you. Isn’t that so? But however that may be, describe my mother, as you imagine her. How does she look?”     28   
  “Very much like you: tall and slender and blond and blue-eyed.”     29   
  “Poor Lena (and now the laugh was on his side), you have missed it this time. My mother is a little woman with bright black eyes and a long nose.”     30   
  “I don’t believe it. Is isn’t possible.”     31   
  “And yet it is true. You must remember that I have a father too. But that never occurs to you. You always think that you women are the principal thing. And now tell me something about my mother’s character. But make a better guess.”     32   
  “I think of her as very much concerned for the welfare of her children.”     33   
  “Correct.”     34   
  “… And that all her children must make wealthy, yes very wealthy marriages. And I know to, whom she has ready for you.”     35   
  “An unfortunate woman, whom you …”     36   
  “How you do mistake me. Believe me, that I have you now, for this very hour, is my joy. What follows does not trouble me. One of these days you will have flown away.…”     37   
  He shook his head.     38   
  “Don’t shake your head; what I say it true. You love me and are true to me; at least in my love I am childish and vain enough to believe so. But you will fly away, I see that clearly enough. You will have to. The saying is that love makes us blind, but it also makes us see far and clear.”     39   
  “Ah, Lena, you do not know how dearly I love you.”     40   
  “Oh yes, I do. And I know too that you think of your Lena as something set apart, and every day you think, ‘if only she were a Countess.’ But it is too late for that now, I can never bring it about. You love me, and you are weak. That cannot be altered. All handsome men are weak and the stronger spirit rules over them.… And the stronger spirit … now, who is that? Either it is your mother, or people’s talk, or your connections. Or perhaps all three … But just look.”     41   
  And she pointed towards the Zoological Garden, where through the darkness of the trees and foliage a rocket rushed hissing into the air and with a puff burst into a countless shower of sparks. A second followed the first and so it went on, as if they were chasing and trying to catch up with one another, until of a sudden the rockets ceased and the shrubbery began to glow in a green and red light. A couple of birds cried out harshly in their cages and then after a long pause the music began.     42   
  “Do you know, Botho, what I would give, if I could lean on your arm and walk with you over there up and down that school for scandal, as safely as here among the box borders, and if I could say to everyone: ‘Yes, you may wonder at us, he is he and I am I, and he loves me and I love him,’—do you know what I would give? But don’t guess, for you never could. You only know yourself and your club and your life. Oh, the poor little life.”     43   
  “Don’t speak so, Lena.”     44   
  “Why not? One must look everything squarely in the face and not whiten anything over, and above all one must not whiten one’s self. But it is growing cold and they are through over there. That is the last piece that they are playing now. Come, we will go in and sit by the fireside, the fire will not be out yet and my mother has long since gone to bed.”     45   
  So they walked back along the garden path, she leaning lightly on his shoulder. The lights were all out in the “castle” and only Sultan gazed after them, thrusting his head out of his kennel. But he did not move and only some dim, sullen thoughts passed through his brain.

   
Chapter VI   
     
IT was the next week after the events narrated, and the chestnut trees were already in bloom. They were blossoming also in Bellevue Street. Baron Botho lived here in a ground floor apartment that extended through from a front balcony to one that opened on a garden: there was a living-room, a dining-room, and a bedroom, which were distinguished by a tasteful furnishing decidedly beyond the means of their owner. In the dining-room there were two pictures of still life by Hertel and between these a bear hunt, an admirable copy from Rubens, while in the living-room the “show piece” was a storm at sea by Andreas Achenbach, surrounded by several smaller pictures by the same artist. The storm picture had come into Baron Botho’s possession by chance at a lottery, and by means of this beautiful and valuable work he had gained the reputation of a connoisseur and especially of an admirer of Achenbach. He joked freely about this and used to declare “that his luck at the lottery cost him quite dear, because it continually led him to make new purchases, adding that it was perhaps the same with all good fortune.      1   
  Before the sofa, the plush of which was covered with a Persian rug, the coffee apparatus stood on a malachite table, while on the sofa itself all kinds of political journals were lying about, and amongst these some whose presence in this place seemed rather peculiar, and could only be explained by Baron Botho’s favorite phrase “fiddlesticks before politics.” Stories which bore the stamp of imagination, so-called “pearls,” amused him the most. A canary bird, whose cage always stood open at breakfast time, was flying as usual to light on the hand or shoulder of his too-indulgent master, who, instead of being impatient, put his paper aside every time to stroke his little favorite. But if he omitted the caress, the little creature would cling to the reader’s neck and beard and chirp long and persistently until he had his way. “All favorites are alike,” said Baron Rienäcker, “they expect humility and obedience.”      2   
  Just now the door bell rang and the servant came in to bring the letters. One, a gray, square envelope, was open and bore a three pfennig stamp. “Hamburg lottery tickets or new cigars,” said Rienäcker, and threw envelope and contents aside without further consideration. “But this one … Ah, from Lena. I will save this for the last, unless this third sealed one contends for the honor. The Osten crest. Then it is from Uncle Kurt Anton: the Berlin postmark means that he is already here. What can he want now? Ten to one, he wants me to breakfast with him or to buy a saddle or to escort him to Renz, or perhaps to Kroll also; most likely I am to do the one and not omit the other.”      3   
  And he took a knife from the window-sill and cut open the envelope, on which he had recognized also Uncle Osten’s handwriting, and took out the letter. The letter read:
           
“HOTEL BRANDENBURG, NUMBER 15
“MY DEAR BOTHO:   
  “An hour ago I arrived safely at the eastern depot, warned by your old Berlin notice ‘Beware of Pickpockets,’ and have engaged rooms in the Hotel Brandenburg, which is to say, in the same old place; a real conservative is conservative even in small things. I shall only stay two days, for your air is too heavy for me. This is a smothering hole. But I will tell you everything by word of mouth. I shall expect you at one o’clock at Hiller’s. After that we will go and buy a saddle. And then in the evening we will go to Renz. Be punctual.   
Your old Uncle,
KURT ANTON.”
   4   
  Rienäcker laughed. “I thought as much! And yet there is an innovation. Formerly it was Borchardt, and now it is Hiller. Oh, oh, Uncle dear, a true conservative is conservative even in small things.… And now for my dear Lena.… What would Uncle Kurt Anton say if he knew in what company his letter and his commands arrived.”      5   
  And while he was speaking, he opened Lena’s note and read:
             “It is now five whole days since I last saw you. Is it going to be a whole week? And I was so happy that evening that I thought you simply must come again the next day. And you were so dear and good. Mother is already teasing me, and she says: ‘He will not come again.’ Oh, what a pain in my heart that gives me, because I know that it must happen some time and because I feel that it might happen any day. I was reminded of that again yesterday. For when I just wrote you that I had not seen you for five whole days, I did not tell the truth; I did see you yesterday, but secretly, by stealth, on the Corso. Just fancy, I too was there, naturally far back in a side path and I watched you riding back and forth for an hour. Oh I was extremely happy, for you were the most imposing rider (almost as imposing as Frau Dörr, who sends her regards to you), and I was so proud just to see you that I didn’t even grow jealous. I mean I was jealous only once. Who was the pretty blonde, with the two white horses? They were simply garlanded with flowers, and the flowers were so thick that there were no leaves nor stems. I never saw anything so beautiful in my life. When I was a child I would have thought that she was a Princess, but now I know that Princesses are not always the most beautiful. Yes, she was pretty and you liked her, I could see that, and she liked you too. But her mother, who set beside the pretty blonde, you liked still better. And that angered me. I grant you a really young woman, if it must be so. But an old woman! and even a mamma? No, no, she has had her share. In any case, my own Botho, you see that you will have to quiet me and make me happy again. I shall expect you to-morrow or the next day. And if you cannot come in the evening, come in the daytime, even if only for a minute. I am so troubled about you, that is to say, about myself. But you understand me already.   
Your
“LENA.”
   6   
  “Your Lena,” said he, repeating the signature, once more to himself and a sort of restlessness took possession of him, because all kinds of conflicting emotions passed through his heart: love, anxiety, fear. Then he read the letter through again. At two or three passages he could not forbear to make a little mark with his silver pencil, not through pedantry, but through pure delight. “How well she writes! The handwriting certainly, and the spelling almost … Stiehl instead of Stiel.… Well, why not? Stiehl was a much dreaded school inspector, but the Lord be praised, I am not. And “emphelen.” Shall I be put out with her over f and h? Good Lord, how many people can spell “empfehlen” properly? The young Countesses cannot always, and the old ones never. So where is the harm! Really, the letter is like Lena herself, good, true and trustworthy, and the mistakes make it only the more charming.”      7   
  He leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes and brow with his hand: “Poor Lena, what is to come of all this? It would have been better for us both, if there had been no Easter Monday this time. Why indeed should there be two holidays? Why Treptow and Stralau and boating excursions? And now my Uncle! Either he is coming as a messenger from my mother, or else he has plans for me himself, of his own initiative. Well, we shall see. He has never been through any training in diplomatic disguises, and even if he has sworn ten oaths to keep silence, he comes out with everything. I shall soon find out, for all that I am even less experienced than he in the art of intrigue.”      8   
  Thereupon he pulled out a drawer of his writing table, in which there were already other letters of Lena’s, tied up with a red ribbon. And now he rang for the servant to help him to dress. “So, John, that is all I need.… And now don’t forget to draw the blinds down. And if anyone should come and ask for me, I shall be at the barracks till twelve, at Hiller’s after one and at Renz’s in the evening. And be sure to raise the blinds again at the right time, so that I shall not find a bake-oven again. And leave the lamp lighted in the front room, but not in my bedroom; it seems as if the flies are possessed this year. Do you understand?”      9   
  “Very good, Herr Baron.”     10   
  And during this dialogue, which was half carried on in the corridor, Rienäcker passed through the vestibule, and out in the garden he playfully pulled the braids of the porter’s little girl, who was stooping over her little brother’s wagon, and got in return a furious glance, which changed to one of delight as soon as she recognized him.     11   
  And now at last he stepped through the gate to the street. Here he saw beneath the green bower of the chestnut trees the men and vehicles passing silently to and fro between the great gate and the Zoological Garden, as if through the glass of a camera. “How beautiful! This is surely one of the best of worlds.”

Chapter VII   
     
TOWARDS twelve his service at the barracks being over, Botho von Rienäcker was walking along under the Lindens toward the Gate, simply with the intention of filling up the time as well as he could until his interview at Hiller’s. Two or three picture shops were very welcome to him in this interim. At Lepke’s there were a couple of Oswald Achenbach’s in the show window, among them a street in Palermo, dirty and sunny, and strikingly truthful as to life and color. “There are things, then, about which one is never quite clear. So it is with these Achenbach’s. Until recently I always swore by Andreas; but when I see something like this, I do not know that Oswald is not this equal or his superior. In any case he is more brilliant and varied. But such things as this I can only think to myself, for to say them before people would be to lower the value of my “Storm at Sea” by half, and quite unnecessarily.”      1   
  Thinking of these matters he stood for a time before Lepke’s show window and then walked across the Parisian Square to the Gate and the path turning sharply to the left toward the Zoological Garden, until he paused before Wolf’s group of lions. Here he looked at the clock. “Half past twelve. Then it is time.” And so he turned and went back over the same path towards the Lindens.      2   
  In front of the Redern Palace he saw Lieutenant von Wedell of the Dragoon Guards coming towards him.      3   
  “Where are you going, Wedell?”      4   
  “To the club. And you?”      5   
  “To Hiller’s.”      6   
  “Aren’t you rather early?”      7   
  “Yes, but what of it? I am to breakfast with an old uncle of mine, an old Neumärker who lives in an odd corner with “Aldermann, Petermann and Zimmermann”—all names that rhyme with man, but without connection or obligation. By the way, he was once in your regiment, my Uncle, I mean. To be sure it was long ago, about forty years. Baron Osten.”      8   
  “From Wietzendorf?”      9   
  “The same.”     10   
  “Oh, I know him, at least by name. There is some relationship. My grandmother was an Osten. Is he the same who has the quarrel with Bismarck?”     11   
  “The same. I tell you what, Wedell, you had better come too. The club can wait and Pitt and Serge too; you can find them at three just as well as at one. The old gentleman is still wild over the blue and gold of the dragoons, and is enough of a Neumärker to consider every Wedell an acquisition.”     12   
  “Very well, Rienäcker, but it is on your responsibility.”     13   
  “With pleasure.”     14   
  During this talk they had reached Hiller’s, where the old Baron was already standing by the glass door looking out, for it was a minute after one. He made no comments, however, and was evidently overjoyed when Botho presented “Lieutenant von Wedell.”     15   
  “Your nephew …”     16   
  “No excuses, Herr von Wedell, everyone who bears the name of Wedell is welcome to me, and doubly and trebly so when wearing this coat. Come, gentlemen, we will extricate ourselves from this mêlée of tables and chairs, and concentrate in the rear as well as we can. It is not Prussian to retreat, but here it does not matter.” And therewith he preceded his guests to choose a good place, and after looking into several little private rooms, he decided on a rather large room, with walls of some leather colored material, which was not very light, in spite of the fact that it had a broad window in three parts, because this looked out on a narrow and dark court. The table was already laid for four, but in the twinkling of an eye the fourth cover was removed, and while the two officers placed their side arms in the corner of the window, the old Baron turned to the head waiter, who had followed at some distance, and ordered a lobster and some white Burgundy. “But what kind, Botho?”     17   
  “How would Chablis do?”     18   
  “Very well, Chablis, and fresh water. But not from the tap. I want it cold in a carafe. And now, gentlemen, be seated: my dear Wedell, sit here, and Botho there. If only we hadn’t this heat, this dog-day weather coming so early. Air, gentlemen, air. Your beautiful Berlin, (which, so they tell me, grows more beautiful all the time, at least those who know no better say so), your beautiful Berlin has everything but air.” And with these words he threw open the big window sash, and sat so that he had the large middle opening directly opposite him.     19   
  The lobster had not yet come, but the Chablis was already on the table. Old Baron Osten restlessly began to cut one of the rolls from the basket quickly and skilfully into diagonal strips, merely for the sake of having something to do. Then he laid down the knife again and offered his hand to Wedell. “I am endlessly grateful to you, Herr von Wedell, and it was a brilliant idea of Botho’s to alienate your affections from the club for a couple of hours. I take it as a good omen, to have the privilege of meeting a Wedell immediately after my arrival in Berlin.”     20   
  And now he began to fill the glasses, because he could not control his uneasiness any longer. He ordered a bottle of Clicquot to be set to cool and then went on: “Really, dear Wedell, we are related; there are no Wedells to whom we are not related, were it only through a bushel of peas; we all have Neumärk blood. And when I see the blue of my old dragoons once more, my heart jumps right up in my mouth. Yes, Herr von Wedell, old affection does not rust. But here comes the lobster.… Please bring me the big shears. The shears are always the best.… But, as I was saying, old love does not grow rusty, nor the edge of the blade either. And I wish to add, the Lord be praised. In those days we still had old Dobeneck. Heavens, what a man he was! A man like a child. But if things did not go well and would not work out properly, I should have liked to see the man who could keep his face under old Dobeneck’s eye. He was a regular old East Prussian dating from the year ’13 and ’14. We were afraid of him, but we loved him too. For he was like a father. And, do you know, Herr von Wedell, who my riding master was …?”     21   
  ‘At this point the champagne was brought in.     22   
  “My riding master was Manteuffel, the same to whom we owe everything that the army, and victory with the army, has made of us.”     23   
  Herr von Wedell bowed, while Botho said softly: “Surely, one may well say so.”     24   
  But that was not wise nor clever of Botho, as was soon manifest, for the old Baron, who was already subject to congestion, turned red all over his bald head and what little curly hair still remained on his temples seemed to curl still tighter. “I don’t understand you, Botho; what do you mean by ‘one may well say so,’ that is the same as to say ‘one might also not say so.’ And I know, too, what all this points to. It signifies that a certain officer of Cuirassiers from the reserves, who, for the rest, held nothing in reserve, least of all revolutionary measures, it signifies, I say, that a certain man from Halberstadt with a sulphur-yellow collar, himself personally stormed St. Privat and closed the great circle around Sedan. Botho, you ought not to come to me with any such tale as that. He was a young barrister and worked for the government at Potsdam, and what is more, under old Meding, who never spoke well of him, as I know, and for that matter, he never learned anything but how to write despatches. I am willing to grant him that much, he does understand that, or in other words, he is a quill driver. But it is not quill drivers who have made Prussia great. Was the hero of Fehrbellin a quill driver? Was the hero of Leuthen a quill driver? Was Blücher a quill driver, or York? The power of the Prussian pen is here! I cannot suffer this cult.”     25   
  “But my dear Uncle …”     26   
  “But, but, I will tolerate no buts. Believe me, Botho, it takes years to settle such questions; I understand such things better. How is it then? He tips over the ladder by which he has climbed, and even suppresses the “Kreuzzeitung,” and, to speak plainly, he ruins us; he despises us, he tells us foolish things, and if he takes a notion to, he denounces us for robbery or interception of documents and sends us to the fortress. But why do I say fortress? The fortress is for decent people; no, he sends us to the poor-house to pluck wool.… But air, gentlemen, air. There is no air here. Damnable hole.”     27   
  And he jumped up, and in addition to the middle window which was already open, he flung wide the two side windows also, so that the draught that passed through blew the curtains and the tablecloth about. Then, sitting down again, he took a piece of ice from the champagne cooler and passed it over his forehead.     28   
  “Ah,” he went on, “this piece of ice is the best thing in the whole breakfast.… And now tell me, Herr von Wedell, am I right or not? Botho, with your hand on your heart, am I right? Is it not true that one, as a member of the Märkisch nobility, may talk oneself into a charge of high treason simply through the pure indignation of a nobleman? Such a man … from one of our very finest families … finer than Bismarck’s, and so many have fallen for the throne and for the Hohenzollerns, that you could form a whole regimental company of them, a company with helmets, and the Boitzenburger to command them. Yes, my friends. And such an affront to such a family. And what for? Interception of documents, indiscretion, betrayal of official secrets. I should like to know if there is anything else left except child murder and offences against morality, and it is actually strange that they have not loaded those on also. But you gentlemen are not saying any thing. Speak out, I beg you. Believe me, I can listen to other opinions patiently; I am not like him; speak, Herr von Wedell, speak.”     29   
  Wedell, whose embarrassment was increasing, sought for some soothing and reconciling words: “Certainly, Herr Baron, it is as you say. But, pardon me, at the time that the affair was decided, I heard many express the opinion, and the words have remained in my memory, that the weaker must give up all idea of crossing the path of the stronger, for that is impossible in life just as in politics. Once for all it is so: might is more than right.”     30   
  “And there is no gainsaying that, no appeal?”     31   
  “Oh yes, Herr Baron. Under some circumstances an appeal is possible. And, to be perfectly frank, I have known of cases where opposition was justified. What weakness dare not venture, sincerity might, the sincerity of belief, the courage of conviction. In such cases resistance is not only a right but a duty. But who has this sincerity? Had he … But I will be silent, for I do not want to offend either you, Herr Baron, or the family to whom we have reference. But you know, even without my telling you, that he who had that audacity, had not such sincerity of belief. He who is merely the weaker should dare nothing, only the pure in heart should dare everything.”     32   
  “Only the pure in heart should dare everything,” repeated the old Baron, with such a roguish expression, that it seemed doubtful whether he was more impressed by the truth or by the untenability of the thesis. “The pure in heart should dare everything. A capital saying which I shall carry away with me. It will please my pastor, who undertook a controversy with me last autumn and demanded a strip of my land. Not for his own sake, the Lord forbid! but for the sake of principle, and of posterity, for which reasons he ought not to yield. The sly old fox. But the pure in heart should dare everything.”     33   
  “Of course you would have to yield in the land quarrel with the pastor,” said Botho. “I knew Schönemann long ago at Sellenthin’s.”     34   
  “Yes, he was a tutor there and knew no better than to shorten the lesson hours and lengthen the recreation hours. And he could play grace-hoops like a young marquis; really, it was a pleasure to watch him. But now he has been seven years in orders and you would never know the Schönemann who used to pay court to the charming mistress of the house. But I must admit this, he educated both the young ladies well, especially your Katherine.…”     35   
  Botho glanced timidly at his uncle, almost as if to beg him to be discreet. But the old Baron, delighted to have seized upon so favorable an opportunity to enter on his favorite theme, went on in exuberant and ever-increasing good humor: “There, there, Botho. Discretion. Nonsense! Wedell is from our region and must know the story just as well as anyone else. Why should we keep silence about such things? You are already as good as bound. And God knows, young man, when I pass the young girls in review, you cannot find a better—teeth like pearls, and she is always laughing so that you can see the whole row. A flaxen blonde to tempt your kisses, and if I were only thirty years younger, I declare …”     36   
  Wedell, who noticed Botho’s confusion, tried to come to his aid and said: “The Sellenthin ladies are all very pleasing, the mother as well as the daughters; last summer I met them in Norderney, and they were charming, but I would prefer the second.…”     37   
  “So much the better, Wedell. You will not come into any conflict and we can celebrate a double wedding. And Schönemann may be sure that if Kluckhuhn, who is touchy like all old people, agrees, I will not only put a spoke in his wheel, but I will give up the strip of parsonage land to him without further ado if I can see such a wedding within the year. You are rich, dear Wedell, and there is really no haste about you. But look at our friend Botho. That he looks so well nourished is no thanks to his sandy wastes, which, excepting a couple of meadows, are really nothing but a nursery of young pines, and still less to his eel pond. ‘Eel pond,’ sounds wonderful, you might almost say poetic. But that is all. One cannot live on eels. I know you do not like to hear about this, but so long as we are on the subject, I may as well come out with it. How do matters stand, then? Your grandfather had the timber cut down and your late father—a capital fellow, but I never saw anyone play the man of affairs so poorly and so expensively too—your late father, I say, divided up the five hundred acres of eastern farming-land among the Jeseritz peasants, and there is not much good land left, and the thirty thousand thalers are long since gone. If you were alone, it might do, but you must share with your brother, and at present the mamma, my sister Liebden, has the whole still in her hands, an admirable woman, clever and skilful, but she does not err on the saving side. Botho, what is the use of belonging to the Imperial Cuirassiers and what is the use of having a rich cousin, who is only waiting for you to come and seal and ratify by a formal proposal what your parents had already agreed upon when you were still children? Why consider longer? Listen, if I could go to your mother to-morrow on my return and bring her the news: ‘Dear Josephine, Botho consents; everything is arranged,’ listen, boy, that would be something for an old uncle who means well by you to rejoice over. Speak to him, Wedell. It is time that he should quit this bachelor life. Otherwise he will squander his bit of property or get caught by some little bourgeoise. Am I right? Naturally. Done! And we must drink to the happy event. But not with these dregs.…” And he rang the bell. “A bottle of Heidsieck. The best brand.”

Chapter VIII   
     
AT about this same time there were at the club two young cavaliers, one of them, who was tall, slender and smooth-faced, belonged to the Gardes du Corps; the other, who was somewhat shorter, and had a full beard with only the regulation smooth chin, had been dismissed from the Pasewalkern. The white damask table cloth, which remained from their breakfast, had been turned back and the two were playing piquet on the bare half of the table.      1   
  “Six cards and four of a kind.”      2   
  “Very well.”      3   
  “And you?”      4   
  “Fourteen aces, three kings, three queens.… ‘And you don’t make a trick.” And he laid his hand on the table and then pushed all the cards together while his companion shuffled.      5   
  “Did you know that Ella is about to be married?”      6   
  “What a pity!”      7   
  “Why a pity?”      8   
  “She can’t jump through the hoop any more.”      9   
  “Nonsense. The more they are married the slenderer they grow.”     10   
  “Yet there are exceptions. Many names belonging to the aristocracy of the circus already appear in the third and fourth generation, which seems to point to some alternation of a slender and a stouter form, or if you like, to the new moon, the first quarter, &c.”     11   
  “You are mistaken. Error in calculo. You forget that there may be adoptions. All these circus people are secretly ‘Gichtelianer’ and pass on their property, their rank and their names according to agreement. They seem the same and yet they are different. There is always fresh blood. Cut.… Besides that I have another bit of news. Afzelius is to join the General Staff.”     12   
  “Which do you mean?”     13   
  “The one who belongs to the Uhlans.”     14   
  “Impossible.”     15   
  “Moltke values him highly and he must have done some excellent work.”     16   
  “He does not impress me. It was all an affair of hunting libraries and plagiarizing. Any one who is a trifle ingenious can turn out books like Humboldt or Ranke.”     17   
  “Four of a kind. Fourteen aces.”     18   
  “Five sequence to king.”     19   
  And while the trick was being played, one could hear from the billiard room near by the sound of the balls and the falling of the little pins.     20   
     
  In the two back rooms of the club, the narrow side of which looked out on a sunny but tiresome garden, there were in all only six or eight men, all silent, all more or less absorbed in their whist or dominoes, and not the least absorbed were the two men who had just been talking about Ella and Afzelius. The game ran high, and so the two did not look up until they saw, through an open curved niche, a new-comer approaching from the next room. It was Wedell.     21   
  “But Wedell, if you don’t bring us a lot of news, we will excommunicate you.”     22   
  “Pardon, Serge, there was no definite agreement.”     23   
  “But almost. For the rest, you will find me personally in the most accommodating mood. How you can settle things with Pitt, who has just lost 150 points, is your affair.”     24   
  Thereupon the two men pushed the cards aside and the young man whom Wedell had greeted as Serge took out his watch and said: “Quarter past three. Time for coffee. Some philosopher, and he must have been one of the greatest, once said that the best thing about coffee was that it was always suitable under all circumstances and at all times of day. Truly that was a wise saying. But where shall we take it? I think we had better sit outside on the terrace, right in the sun. The more one braves the weather the better one fares. Here, Pehlecke, three cups. I cannot listen to the falling of the pins any longer. It makes me nervous; outside, indeed, there is noise too, but it is different, and instead of the sharp strokes, we shall hear the rumbling and thundering of the underground railway, and we can imagine that we are on Vesuvius or Ætna. And why not? All pleasures are in the last analysis imaginary, and whoever has the best imagination enjoys the most pleasure. Only unreality gives value and is actually the only reality.”     25   
  “Serge,” said the man who had been addressed as Pitt at the piquet table, “if you go on with your famous wise sayings, you will punish Wedell more severely than he deserves. Besides, you must have some mercy on me because I have been losing. So, we will stay here, with the lawn behind us, this ivy near us, and a view of a bare wall. A heavenly location for his Majesty’s guards! What would old Prince Pückler have said to this club garden? Pehlecke, here, bring the table here, that will do. And, to finish with, you may bring us some of your very best lager. And now, Wedell, if you want to win forgiveness, give your cloak a shake, and see if you cannot shake a new war or some other big piece of news out of it. You are related to God in heaven through the Puttkamers. With which branch I need not say. What more is he brewing?”     26   
  “Pitt,” said Wedell, “I beg you, don’t ask me any questions about Bismarck. For in the first place, you know that I know nothing about such matters, because cousins in the seventeenth degree are not precisely the intimates and confidants of princes, and in the second place, I come, instead of from the Prince, direct from a shooting match where with a few hits and many, many misses, no other than his Highness was the target.”     27   
  “And who was this bold shot?”     28   
  “The old Baron Osten, Rienäcker’s uncle. A charming old gentleman and a good fellow. But of course a sly dog also.”     29   
  “Like all Märkers.”     30   
  “I am one myself.”     31   
  “Tant mieux. Then you know all about it yourself. But out with it. What did the old fellow say?”     32   
  “A good many things. His political talk was hardly worth reporting, but another bit of news was all the more important: Rienäcker has a sharp corner to turn.”     33   
  “And what corner?”     34   
  “He is about to marry.”     35   
  “And you call that a sharp corner to turn? I beg to disagree with you, Wedell; Rienäcker stands in a much more difficult position: he has 9000 marks a year and spends 12000, and that is the sharpest of all corners, at least sharper than the marriage corner. Marriage is no danger for Rienäcker, but a rescue. For that matter, I have seen it coming. And who is it then?”     36   
  “A cousin!”     37   
  “Naturally. A rescuer and a cousin are almost identical terms at present. And I will wager that her name is Paula. All cousins are named Paula these days.”     38   
  “But this one is not.”     39   
  “And her name?”     40   
  “Katherine.”     41   
  “Katherine? Ah, now I know. Katherine Sellenthin. Hm! Not so bad, in fact a brilliant match. Old Sellenthin, he is the old man with the plaster over his eye, has six estates, and with the farms there are really thirteen. If divided in equal parts, Katherine will get the thirteenth thrown in. My congratulations.”     42   
  “Do you know her?”     43   
  “Certainly. A wonderful flaxen-haired blonde with eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, but for all that she is not sentimental, and is less like the moon than like the sun. She was here at Frau Zulow’s Pension, and at fourteen she was already surrounded and courted.”     44   
  “At the Pension?”     45   
  “Not really at the Pension and not every day, but on Sundays when she went to lunch with old Osten, the one whom you have just seen. Katherine, Katherine Sellenthin! … she was like a rail then, and that is what we used to call her, and she was the most charming little hoyden that you can imagine. I can still see her braid of hair, which we always called the distaff. And Rienäcker will now have a chance to spin it off. Well, why not? It will not be so difficult for him.”     46   
  “After all, it may be more difficult than many think.” answered Wedell. “And while he certainly needs his finances improved, yet I am not sure that he would decide at once in favor of the blond beauty from his own province. For you must know that Rienäcker has for some time past enjoyed another tint, indeed ash-blond, and if what Balafré lately told me is true, he has been seriously considering whether he should not raise his blanchisseuse to the rank of la dame blanche. He sees no distinction between Castle Avenal and Castle Zehden. A castle is a castle and, you know, Rienäcker, who for that matter, goes his own way in many things, was always in favor of naturalness.”     47   
  “Yes,” laughed Pitt. “That he was. But Balafré draws the long bow and invents interesting tales. You are sober, Wedell, and will not be ready to believe such made up nonsense.”     48   
  “No, it is not imaginary,” said Wedell. “But I believe what I know. Rienäcker, in spite of his six feet, or perhaps because of them, is weak and easily guided and is peculiarly gentle and tenderhearted.”     49   
  “He certainly is. But circumstances will compel him and he will break away and free himself, at the worst like a fox out of a trap. It is painful and a bit of one’s life is left behind. But the main thing is to get out again—out, out and free. Long live Katherine! And Rienäcker! What does the proverb say? ‘God helps those who help themselves.’”

Chapter IX   
     
THAT evening Botho wrote to Lena that he would come on the following day, perhaps even earlier than usual. And he kept his word and arrived an hour before sunset. Naturally he found Frau Dörr there. The air was very fine and not too warm, and after they had talked a while, Botho said:      1   
  “Perhaps we could go into the garden.”      2   
  “Yes, either into the garden or somewhere else?”      3   
  “What do you mean?”      4   
  Lena laughed. “Don’t be worried again, Botho. There is no one hiding in ambush and the lady with the pair of white horses and the wreaths of flowers will not cross your path.”      5   
  “Then where shall we go, Lena?”      6   
  “Just out in the green meadows where you will have nothing but daisies and me. And perhaps Frau Dörr, too, if she will be so good as to go with us.”      7   
  “Will she?” said Frau Dörr. “Surely she will. I feel much honored. But I must put myself to rights a little. I will be with you again directly.”      8   
  “There is no need, Frau Dörr; we will call for you.”      9   
     
  And so the plan was carried out, and as the young couple walked across the garden a quarter of an hour later, Frau Dörr was already standing at the door, a wrap on her arm and a marvellous hat on her head, a present from Dörr, who, like all misers, would buy something absurdly expensive once in a while.     10   
  Botho said something complimentary to the rather over-dressed lady, and all three walked down the path and went out by a hidden side door and reached a little path, which before it led further and curved out into the open green fields ran along by the outer side of the garden fence where the nettles grew high.     11   
  “We will follow this path,” said Lena. “It is the prettiest and the most solitary. No one comes here.”     12   
  And certainly it was the loneliest path, far more silent and solitary than three or four other roads that ran parallel with it over the meadows towards Wilmersdorf and showed something of their own sort of suburban life. On one of these roads there were a good many sheds, between which there were horizontal bars somewhat like those used by gymnasts. These aroused Botho’s curiosity, but before he could ask about them, the work going on answered his question: rugs and carpets were spread out on the frames and immediately began such a beating and banging with big sticks that a cloud of dust rose and nearly concealed the road.     13   
  Botho pointed out this dust and was beginning a discussion with Frau Dörr about the value or harmfulness of carpets, which, viewed in this light, are mere dirt catchers, “and if one has not a very strong chest one might get consumption and never know how.” But he stopped short in the middle of a sentence, because the road he had taken led past a place where the rubbish of a stone-cutter’s workshop had been thrown out, and all sorts of fragments of ornaments lay about, in great numbers especially angels’ heads.     14   
  “There is an angel’s head,” said Botho. “Look, Frau Dörr. And here is even one with wings.”     15   
  “Yes,” said Frau Dörr. “And a chubby face too. But is it really an angel? I think it must be a cupid, because it is so small and has wings.”     16   
  “Cupid or angel,” said Botho, “they are just the same. You ask Lena, and she will tell you so. Isn’t that so, Lena?”     17   
  Lena seemed offended, but he took her hand and they were good friends again.     18   
  Immediately behind the rubbish heap the path turned to the left and opened immediately afterwards into a somewhat larger country road where the willows were in bloom and were scattering their fleecy catkins over the fields, where they lay strewn about like cotton wool.     19   
  “Look, Lena,” said Frau Dörr, “do you know that they stuff beds with that now instead of feathers? And they call it tree wool.”     20   
  “Yes, I know, Frau Dörr. And I am always glad when people think of anything like that and make use of it. But it would never do for you.”     21   
  “No, Lena, it would not do for me. You are right. I am more in favor of something firm, horse hair and a spring bed, and if it gives a jump …”     22   
  “Oh, yes,” said Lena, who was growing a trifle nervous over this description. “But I am afraid that we shall have rain. Just hear the frogs, Frau Dörr.”     23   
  “Yes, the frogs,” repeated the latter. “At night they keep up such a croaking that one cannot sleep. And why? Because this is all swamp and only looks like meadow land. Look at the pool where the stork is standing and looking right over this way. Well, he isn’t looking at me. He might have to look a long time. And a mighty good thing too.”     24   
  “But we ought really to be turning back,” said Lena, who was much embarrassed, and simply wanted to say something.     25   
  “Oh, no indeed,” laughed Frau Dörr. “Surely not now, Lena; you mustn’t get frightened at a little thing like that. Good stork, you must bring me … Or shall I sing: Dearest stork?”     26   
  And so it went on for a while yet, for it took time to get Frau Dörr away from such a favorite topic.     27   
  But finally there was a pause, during which they walked slowly onward, until at last they came to a plateau-like ridge that led over from the Spree towards the Havel. Just at this point the pasture land ended and fields of rye and rape seed began and continued as far as the first rows of houses of Wilmersdorf.     28   
  “Now let us go up there,” said Frau Dörr, “and then we will sit down and pick buttercups and make a wreath out of the stems. It is always so much fun to poke one stem into another until the wreath or the chain is done.”     29   
  “Yes, yes,” said Lena, whose fate it was not to be free from small embarrassments. “Yes, yes. But now come, Frau Dörr, the path leads this way.”     30   
  And talking thus they climbed the little slope and seated themselves at the top on a heap of weeds and rubbish that had been lying there since the previous autumn. This heap was an excellent resting place, and also afforded a good point of view from which one could overlook a ditch bordered with willows and grass, and could not only see the northern row of houses of Wilmersdorf, but could also plainly hear, from a neighboring smoking-room and bowling-alley, the fall of the ninepins and more plainly still the rolling back of the heavy ball along the two noisy wooden rods of its track. Lena enjoyed this, and took Botho’s hand and said: “See, Botho, I understand that so well (for when I was a child we lived near such a bowling-alley) that when I just hear the ball hit, I know at once how much it will make.”     31   
  “Well,” said Botho, “then we can bet.”     32   
  “And what shall we bet?”     33   
  “We shall think of something.”     34   
  “Very well. But I only have to guess right three times, and if I say nothing it doesn’t count.”     35   
  “I am satisfied.”     36   
  And so they all three listened, and Frau Dörr, who grew more excited every minute, swore by all that was holy that her heart was throbbing and that she felt just as if she were sitting before the curtain at the theatre. “Lena, Lena, you have undertaken too much, child; it really is not possible.”     37   
  And so she would have continued, if they had not just then heard a ball hit and after one dull blow come to rest against the side guard. “Missed,” cried Lena. And this was actually the case.     38   
  “That was easy, too easy,” said Botho. I could have guessed that myself. Let us see what happens next.”     39   
  And then, two more strokes followed, without Lena speaking or moving. But Frau Dörr’s eyes seemed to pop out of her head more and more. But now, Lena rose at once from her place, there came a small, hard ball and one could hear it dance, vibrating over the board with a tone in which elasticity and hardness were curiously mingled. “All nine,” said Lena. And in a moment the falling of the ninepins was heard and the attendant only confirmed what scarcely needed confirmation.     40   
  “You have won, Lena. We must eat a philopena to-day and then we’ll call it square. Isn’t that right, Frau Dörr?”     41   
  “Why certainly,” said Frau Dörr winking. “It is all square.” And so saying, she took her hat off and began to swing it about as if it had been her market hat.     42   
  Meanwhile the sun had gone down behind the Wilmersdorf church tower and Lena proposed to start for home, “it was growing so chilly; but on the way they would play tag: she was sure that Botho could not catch her.”     43   
  “We shall soon see.”     44   
  And now they began chasing and running, and Lena actually could not be caught until at last she was so weak with laughter and excitement that she took refuge behind the substantial form of Frau Dörr.     45   
  “Now I have a tree to dodge around,” she laughed, “and so you’ll never catch me.” And thereupon she took hold of Frau Dörr’s rather loose jacket and pushed the good woman so cleverly to the left and right, that she protected herself for quite a while. But suddenly Botho was beside her and caught her and gave her a kiss.     46   
  “That is against the rules; we had not agreed on anything.” But despite this protest she hung on his arm and commanded, imitating the harsh voice of the guard, “Forward march … double quick,” and enjoying Frau Dörr’s endless exclamations of admiration wherewith the good woman accompanied the game.     47   
  “Is it believable?” said she. “No, one can hardly believe it. And always just like this. And when I think of mine! It is unbelievable, I say. And yet he was a man too. And he always behaved so!”     48   
  “What in the world is she talking about?” asked Botho softly.     49   
  “Oh she is just thinking.… But you know all about it.… I told you about it before.”     50   
  “Oh, so that is it. Well, he can’t have been so very bad.”     51   
  “Who knows? For that matter, one is about the same as another.”     52   
  “Do you think so?”     53   
  “No.” And she shook her head while her eyes shone with a soft and tender expression. But she would not let this mood get the upper hand of her and so she said quickly: “Let us sing, Frau Dörr. Let us sing. But what shall we sing?”     54   
  “‘Rosy dawn’ …”     55   
  “No, not that … ‘To-morrow in the cold grave’ is too sad for me. No, let us sing ‘A year from now, a year from now’ or rather ‘Do you remember?’”     56   
  “Yes, that is right, that is a pretty one: that is my favorite song.”     57   
  And with well-practised voices all three sang Frau Dörr’s favorite song, and when they had nearly reached the garden the words still rung out over the field: “Ich denke d’ran.… Ich danke dir, mein Leben.” And then from the other side of the road, where the long row of sheds and carriage-houses were, the echoes repeated the song.     58   
  Frau Dörr was very, very happy. But Lena and Botho had grown quiet and serious.     59