Life in a German Crack Regiment

"And I can give you another hundred, mamma," put in Hildegarde. "Aunt gave me more than I needed for travelling expenses."

"And I will contribute a hundred marks also," said Fritz. He had really no feeling for his family, but the poverty that reigned seemed to him so horribly unsuited to their social position he must give a helping hand, partly indeed on his own account, so as not to be the son of a beggar.

Fritz turned to the door once again. "You are quite sure you want me to talk to these people, father, or would you rather – "

But the major declined. "No, no, you go, I should get into a temper; do what you can."

Fritz went into the next room and summoned all the creditors who were standing outside. They were all workmen or tradesmen. All knew Fritz personally, and greeted him in a friendly fashion and were very deferential in their behaviour.

In the regiment Fritz was regarded as excessively haughty and proud, but when he wanted to get anything out of a person he could be exceedingly amiable. He shook hands now with all, asked after the health of their families, and now and again joked with them. He had indeed already half won the battle when he said, "My father, who is not feeling very well to-day, has requested me to speak to you and to settle your accounts so far as he is in a position to do so. There are, indeed, rather a lot," he said laughingly, "but we shall be able to make an arrangement; naturally we cannot pay all at once. You know that in consequence of the failure of his bank my father has lost a great deal" – then he went on with his fabrications – "but within the next few months we shall get a large sum of money from the family estates, and then each of you will be paid to the uttermost farthing. To-day we can only pay part, and I am sure you will all agree to this. You know, perhaps, that to-day my father is celebrating his sixtieth birthday, and I am sure you would not wish to spoil the day when he might be so happy with his wife and children."

No, they did not want to do that; naturally they knew the money would be quite safe, only they had heard that yesterday the respected major had received a large sum of money, and they only wanted to see if they could not secure a little of it.

Fritz listened to these words with joy; these people were much more sensible, and above all much more respectful than he had dared to hope; mentally he put aside a thousand marks for his parents. If he divided five thousand marks (£250) among these tradespeople they would be more than satisfied.

He had the bills given to him, and a joyful smile played on his lips when he added up the amounts; the whole lot amounted to only ten thousand marks (£500). "I shall save another thousand," he thought to himself; then he called up each one singly, spoke to him cheerfully and arranged things as he wanted. All declared that they were quite satisfied to have received a fourth of their accounts, the remainder to be paid within three months.

It was a good hour before Fritz had finished; from each he exacted a written statement that he would not press for money during the next few months nor send in any accounts. To keep the people in a good humour all this time he had given them wine and offered them cigars. They took the wine and with Fritz drank his father's health, but they did not venture to smoke in the presence of the honoured lieutenant and in the respected major's apartments.

At last they departed; Fritz shook hands with them once again, and with a friendly word they all parted good friends. From the passage the laughter of the departing ones penetrated into the breakfast-room, where the others were awaiting the result of the interview.

Beaming with joy, Fritz returned and laid the two thousand marks on the table. "Well, father, I've rescued that for you; for the present they are all satisfied and for three months you have a respite. Before the time is up Hilda will long have been married, and even if she is only engaged I'll manage to get you the few pounds. I've done more difficult things than that. But one thing I should like to know, father: surely these few debts, amounting in all to ten thousand marks, didn't deprive you of your night's rest? I thought they would have been at least seventy or eighty thousand."

"I thought so too; perhaps there are a lot more. I never had the courage to add them all up."

"Unless one can pay them there's not much point in doing so," said Fritz, with indifference; then, partly out of curiosity, partly from real interest, he asked, "What other debts have you then, father?"

"All over the place; the bills are turning grey with age, and some indeed are really primeval."

"In that case a lot of them are no longer valid."

"But Fritz," cried Hildegarde, "you surely wouldn't take advantage of that? The tradesmen must have their money."

"Very easy to say that, but where is it to come from?" objected the major. "I haven't any money – at any rate, not for the moment."

"Have you any bills or I O U's out?" inquired Fritz. "You must not be offended with me for asking you this, but I have been to a certain extent your business agent to-day. I should like to have a clear idea of how matters stand."

"No," his father assured him, "I have never given any of these, but I am indebted to all my friends; one for four thousand (£250), another three thousand (£150), a third a thousand (£50), and so on."

"Oh, well, you need not grow grey because of these; whoever lends money to a friend knows perfectly well in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand he will not get it back again. And I really see absolutely no reason why you should be the exception. Whoever lent you money knew perfectly well he would not see it again."

"Yes, yes, that is all very well," grumbled the old major, "but the people only lent me the money because I told them of Hildegarde's prospective engagement."

"Father, really – " cried Hildegarde. She blushed crimson and was beside herself with indignation. "It is not enough that you think and talk about nothing else but my possible engagement, but you must also tell strangers about it in order to get credit."

The mother laid her hand gently on her shoulder. "But, Hilda, you must not take it in that way; we only spoke about it to intimate friends."

The major also tried to calm her, but Hildegarde would not be pacified. "I cannot go out in the town any more, you have made it impossible for me here. Now I understand the veiled allusions of mamma's friends yesterday when they inquired so sympathetically after my health. I shall go away to-morrow; I will not stay here a day longer."

"This is certainly a delightful birthday celebration," snarled the major, and he struck the table a violent blow with his fist.

"Hildegarde will be all right again directly," said Fritz, "she's a sensible girl; naturally these money complications have upset her. This afternoon she will be her old self again. Now I must go and arrange matters with the bailiff or the champagne will not taste good."

But although by the afternoon the seals had been removed from the furniture the champagne somehow or other was not successful. A dark shadow lay over the house, and remained there, and when at last the major went to bed he had to confess that he had never spent so sad a birthday as the day when he reached the age of sixty.

CHAPTER VIII

The Wages of Sin

Little Willberg had shot himself!

There was sincere sorrow in the regiment at the loss of their comrade, who had been the universal favourite, yet, in spite of that, they could not forgive him for not having taken his discharge before taking his life. Twenty-four hours sooner or later could have made no difference to him; within that time he could have managed it. They could not understand why he had shown so little consideration for the regiment he had so dearly loved and of which he had always been so proud. The act of one officer affects the credit of all; Willberg understood that perfectly well, and he ought to have remembered that his suicide would cause all kinds of unpleasantness to the regiment.

This was the universal view, and how right it was was shown by the fact that the Berlin newspapers were full of little Willberg's death. An attempt had been made to hush up the affair, and at the request of the colonel, the adjutant, Count Wettborn, had visited all the newspaper offices and requested that nothing might be published concerning the sad affair. The count had been to all except the two social democratic organs; he could not bring his mind to visiting them; and it was just these two newspapers that daily published fresh revelations concerning the life of the dead man. There came to light, indeed, more than had been feared. The "Golden Butterflies" were beside themselves with rage that all these things which, in their opinion, were nobody's concern but their own, should be published, and the worst of it was that from the history of the dead man's life people drew unfavourable conclusions concerning the spirit and mode of life of the "Golden Butterflies."

The "Golden Butterflies" were simply distracted; why should this thing have happened to them? – to them who were so proud and distinguished, and who possessed the reputation of being one of the most aristocratic of infantry regiments? And why, again, should it have been an officer belonging to the highest nobility who gave people the opportunity of criticising the regiment? The newspapers, of course, found this an excellent occasion for renewing their attacks on the aristocracy and declaring that the people with blue blood in their veins were not a whit better or more to be respected than those who had to be content with miserable red blood.

But the worst of all was that what the newspapers reported, unfortunately, approached the truth. Willberg must have been living frightfully extravagantly, and he was mixed up in highly disreputable affairs. Much was revealed of which his fellow-officers had had no idea. The colonel went about in a state of great excitement, cursing and swearing. On the day after the sorrowful event there was a regular attack on the regimental bureau by people who had claims on Willberg, and who wanted to know who would settle them, and when after this nobody else was admitted to the barracks, there were showers of letters which disclosed more or less discreditable episodes in Willberg's life.

Why, oh why, should it have been an aristocrat who drew down upon the regiment such scandal and rebuke? Nobody said it aloud, but everybody thought the same thing. If only it had been Winkler instead of little Willberg who had shot himself, how satisfied they would have been; they could have struck an attitude and declared, with great pride, "You see, we nobles are the better men." But it was the aristocrat who was dead, and the plebeian was still alive!

None of the "Golden Butterflies" knew what it was that had so suddenly driven Willberg to death, and he had not left a letter or a line behind which gave the slightest clue to it.

As a matter of course the colonel inquired of his fellow-officers whether any of them could give him any information, but the "Golden Butterflies" looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. All of them knew of course that little Willberg had lost money at cards, but that had often happened, and why should he, therefore, have shot himself on this particular occasion rather than earlier? And this view was strengthened by the fact that the Uhlan, when questioned, had declared that Willberg had paid him his gaming debts shortly before his death. As a matter of fact this was not the truth; on the contrary, the Uhlan had emphatically reminded Willberg that the date for the payment of the debt had passed, and had admonished him that in affairs of this kind, which were designated debts of honour, etiquette demanded the most scrupulous punctuality. It was after this that Willberg shot himself, and although the Uhlan need hardly reproach himself with having driven a comrade to death, still he was very glad that the affair had not been made public.

On the day after the burial it occurred to the adjutant of the regiment to ask Willberg's man if he could give any information in the matter. But he could disclose nothing, although he was subjected to a formal examination; at last, however, he remembered something. "Now I recollect, sir, one evening I took a letter to Lieutenant Winkler, and my master waited at home for the answer, and when it did come he was greatly agitated. I had never seen him before like this. I heard him walking up and down for hours, and next morning when I went to call him he had not been to bed at all, but was lying on the sofa asleep."

"Do you know what was in the letter you took to Lieutenant Winkler?"

He could give no information on this point, so he was dismissed, and the adjutant told the colonel what he had just learnt. The latter walked about in agitation.

"How long has Lieutenant Winkler been on furlough?"

The count consulted the calendar. "He has to announce his return to-morrow mid-day!"

"So much the better, otherwise I should have had to recall him by telegraph. The authorities ask for explicit details concerning Willberg's death. Till now I was confronted by a riddle; perhaps Winkler can throw some light on the subject."

George had already heard of Willberg's death while he was in Paris, and although at first the news had shocked him he could not pretend that he was deeply grieved. Almost hourly he had thanked Olga for having persuaded him to take this journey. He could not hide from himself that in spite of the best resolutions he would not have been able to meet Willberg calmly.

He had also told himself hourly that even when he returned he did not think he could see him in cold blood, and thus to a certain extent he breathed more freely when he heard of Willberg's death, and he was almost grateful to Heaven for having spared him a future meeting. It was sad, of course, that Willberg had been obliged to take his life when he was still a young man, but as far as the army and the officers were concerned his death was no loss. He had dreaded meeting him again, but now he returned to the garrison quite cheerfully. Fourteen happy days lay behind him; Olga and he had thoroughly enjoyed themselves in beautiful Paris; his furlough had been a real time of refreshment, and he was quite pleased to return to his duties and his active life.

"The colonel desires that Lieutenant Winkler will speak to him to-morrow at eleven in the regimental bureau." For a moment George was somewhat alarmed. Could the colonel have found out that he had been in France, in Paris, without permission? Well, the punishment for that was not severe, at the worst a few day's confinement to one's own lodgings, which would not destroy the memory of the delightful days he had just enjoyed.

The first words, however, which the colonel addressed to him next morning showed him that his fears were groundless. He inquired how he had enjoyed the Riviera, and then he came at once to the point. He told him what Willberg's former servant had said, and begged George to give him any further information he had. "Above all it is most important for me to know what was in the letter which Willberg sent you. Can you, and will you, give me information concerning this?"

George considered for a moment, then he said: "As I was not expressly pledged to keep silence I do not think I shall be committing an indiscretion if I tender an account of it."

"Have you still Willberg's letter?"