Life in a German Crack Regiment

Olga sat thinking for a long time, then she said: "I care for you very much, I would gladly give you permission to speak openly, but it would not be wise, especially on your account. What do our relations with one another matter to the world? Nobody expects a young lieutenant to be a saint, but he need not publish to the whole world the fact that he has a 'friend,' and certainly no one need know what her name is and what has happened to her. There would be people who would blame you, and why should you expose yourself to that?"

He kissed her on the forehead. "You are right, as you always are."

He could not tell how it was, but suddenly he wondered how Hildegarde would receive such news. He had not seen her since his return, but daily his thoughts had wandered to her, and now he saw her picture clearly before him.

"George, what are you thinking about so seriously?"

He roused himself from his thoughts and found Olga standing in front of him and laughing.

"You have forgotten all about me, haven't you? For at least a minute you have been staring straight in front of you. What were you thinking of?"

He did not answer her question. "Don't be angry," he begged, "my thoughts were far away."

"In beautiful Paris?"

He could not help laughing. "Not exactly, but now they have returned to you once more," and he tenderly drew her to him.

CHAPTER IX

The Humiliation of the "Golden Butterflies"

An officers' meeting had been summoned, which all the officers of the regiment had been commanded to attend, with the single exception of Lieutenant Winkler, and the colonel's behaviour to his lieutenants had been by no means gentle. In his present excited state of mind, and with the fear of possible dismissal after all, he was going to take good care that there should be no further scandals among his officers, and one would certainly be unavoidable if their behaviour to Lieutenant Winkler was not altered. He therefore explained to them the Willberg affairs as far as he was justified in doing so, and assured them that George had behaved splendidly – indeed, many of them might take an example from him. At first the colonel had thought of sending a deputation of three lieutenants to George to convey to him the expression of his comrades' confidence and to apologise for their unjust suspicions. He had discussed at length with his adjutant as to whether George was not entitled to some substantial compensation, but the latter had not taken his view. To make too much of the affair was to do more harm than good. If the colonel insisted upon an official apology great indignation would be once more aroused; the officers' rage would burst forth anew, and they would consider compensation as a still further humiliation, for George was only a bourgeois, and it is always very disagreeable for an aristocrat to say to such a one, "I did you an injustice." After much discussion the colonel agreed to this view, and so he only delivered a thundering philippic, ending with the words: "I have commanded Count Wettborn to inform me daily concerning your behaviour to Lieutenant Winkler; if a single complaint reaches me, if I hear that in the future any one of you behaves in such a way as is not permissible under any circumstances, I shall cause the officer concerned to be sent to a frontier garrison within three days. I swear to this."

This had its effect; at least, inasmuch as in future the officers did not dare to oppose Lieutenant Winkler openly nor to make hostile speeches and remarks against him. Their feeling was not altered, and they did not become more friendly because of the colonel's discourse, but they kept their thoughts to themselves, and behaved towards him in a more polite fashion, if, perhaps, a not more friendly one. It was still very little, indeed, that George was offered in the way of friendship, but it was yet considerably more than he had lately dared to hope. The present behaviour of his fellow-officers filled him with a certain satisfaction, and being a generous-minded man, he was almost sorry that they had had to endure such harsh words on his account; but in his bearing and in his intercourse with them he betrayed neither the one feeling nor the other. He was polite and amiable, but at the same time independent and self-reliant, as he had been from the beginning. He behaved, indeed, as if he had no idea of what had happened at the officers' meeting, and officially he did not know, for Count Wettborn had not thought it advisable to inform him directly what had been said regarding him to the others; that would have been too great a humiliation of the aristocracy in the eyes of the middle class. The fact that George feigned ignorance so cleverly, that not by a single word did he allude to their former suspicions of him, that he bore no grudge against anyone, and that though he had received ample satisfaction in consequence of the colonel's severe reprimand, he still remained modest and unassuming in his manners and did not play the part of innocence justified, made a certain impression on the better sort of men among the officers.

Although George betrayed nothing of all this, he noticed that very slowly there was a slight change of feeling towards him. He only told Olga of this, and in his letters home he merely said that very soon he would be quite happy in the regiment. It was, indeed, high time, for he had been more than a year among the "Golden Butterflies." George felt now quite a different being. His cheerful disposition once more showed itself, and his happy nature drove away all the sad thoughts which had lately so filled his mind.

He enjoyed his official duties much more than formerly, and just then several things happened that made them pleasanter than usual. His captain had gone away for a few days, his first lieutenant was on furlough, and as it was a very quiet time in the regiment, George was given the command of his company.

To-day the company had been shooting, and now it was musketry inspection. George had at first entrusted this to the sergeant-major alone, but at the last moment he thought it was his duty to make a personal inspection. He came quite unexpectedly. The men were drawn up in the corridor, and as George mounted the steps he heard from above such a shower of curses that he hurried on. The cry, "The lieutenant is coming!" produced absolute silence in a moment, and the sergeant-major hastened towards him to salute him.

"But, sergeant, whatever is the matter? You know how our captain insists upon a good tone in the company, and I should not like there to be any difference in his absence. What has happened?"

"Nothing, sir. The lieutenant knows how everything sounds in the corridor if one speaks a little louder than usual, and one has to do that to make one's self understood. Perhaps it was I was a little angry with a man whose gun was badly cleaned."

"Don't get angry with him, but make a note of it and inspect the gun again."

"Certainly, sir. I will attend to your commands."

George was standing on one side with the sergeant-major, and now he dismissed him. "Go on with your inspection."

The sergeant-major went back to his place, and George walked slowly along the line, examining the men's uniforms. Suddenly he stopped in front of a soldier.

"Petersen, what have you done to yourself?"

The man had a swollen and inflamed eye and a great boil on his forehead which prevented him from wearing his cap properly.

"You look horrible. What has happened to you?" inquired George once more.

"I fell down."

"Where?"

"On the steps."

"That's what I am always saying. You lazy fellows don't even know how to walk, and yet you imagine you are fit for a parade march."

George tried to make a joke of the affair, and, as a rule, he found that his men liked this mode of treatment; but to-day his words called forth no response. Petersen did not laugh, and the men standing by were evidently not amused by it. It struck George as a little odd, but still he thought no more of it, and turned to go, when by chance his glance fell upon Non-Commissioned Officer von Nissew, who was standing a little way from him by the window, and who was looking at Petersen with such a threatening and fiery glance that involuntarily George was frightened for a moment.

Then suddenly he grasped the real meaning of the affair. His instinct, which had made him dislike von Nissew from the very beginning, was not wrong then. What he had just seen made him determine to sift the matter to the bottom, so he now went back to the soldier and subjected him to a cross-examination. When did he fall? Who were there when it happened? Had he been to the ward-room and had his wounds dressed by the nurse? Who was in the room when he returned? But he could get nothing out of the man; he had fallen down, nobody had seen it, and he had told none, because he had not wanted to make himself ridiculous on account of his clumsiness.

"What do you know about the matter, Non-Commissioned Officer von Nissew?" said George, turning suddenly to him. "You are responsible for these men. Why did you not send this man to the ward-room? The wound looks frightful."

The non-commissioned officer continued staring at the soldier with threatening eyes. "I know nothing about it, sir. I only discovered the injury just before the inspection, and then it was too late to send him to the nurse."

George knew perfectly well that von Nissew was not speaking the truth, but he did not want to convict him of lying before the assembled men, on the ground of discipline and subordination.

"Show me the place on the steps where you fell down."

A clever liar would have shown George some place or other and said, "Here, sir." But the soldier was so little accustomed to hypocrisy and concealment that he did not know whether to go to the right or to the left, and George once more took him to task. "I want to say something to you, Petersen; you know me, and you know that I try to act fairly towards you all, and shut my eyes whenever I can, but if you stand here and lie to me and make a fool of me, I shall get very angry indeed, and I can assure you you won't appreciate that side of me. Well, now out with it. I pledge you my word you shan't suffer for it. Where did you fall down?"

A struggle was going on in Petersen's mind. At last he said: "I did not fall down at all."

"But – what happened then?"

"Non-Commissioned Officer von Nissew struck me on the head with a frying-pan."

George was enraged beyond measure, although from the first he had not for a moment doubted that something of the kind had happened; still, he did not want to betray his feelings towards his subordinate, so he only said: "So that's it. Well, that will do. Now go back into line."

But the private stood still in a stiff attitude before his lieutenant and did not move. "Do you want to say anything else?" asked George. "You know, Petersen, you cannot lodge a complaint against von Nissew to-day. You must not do that till to-morrow, or you yourself will be liable to punishment."

"Sir, if you will allow me, I do not want to make any complaint."

"What do you want, then?"

The soldier, a tall, strong, fine-looking man, trembled in every limb.

"Now, out with it. You can trust me. What is it?"

"Might I venture to ask you most humbly not to tell the non-commissioned officer that I have informed you of the truth in his matter, for then he would thrash me again and make my comrades belabour me with their heavy whips."

George involuntarily took a step back. "What do you mean? You only imagine that. Now, can you believe one of your superiors capable of such a thing?" He was speaking against his own conviction, but for the sake of discipline he was obliged to support those in authority; an opportunity for discovering the whole truth would come later.

Petersen was still trembling. "We know the non-commissioned officer well enough. Last week Meier intended to lodge a complaint because he knocked out two of his teeth, but he heard this and then he struck him with his riding-whip till the blood ran, and we had to hit him also."

"But how could you do such a thing?"

"The non-commissioned officer threatened us that he would take care that we had no leave of absence on Sunday, and he taunted us till we got mad with anger, and we drove Meier round the place till he couldn't move."