Life in a German Crack Regiment

"Fi, that's a beautiful idea."

Count Wettborn had, therefore, an easy task when he came to persuade George to go on furlough. He was much astonished when he heard that George was quite determined to send in his resignation, and to enter his father's factory; but, naturally, he made no attempt to dissuade him.

"And when do you think of sending in your request?"

"In a day or two. My father writes to me that he is commanded to an audience with His Majesty, and that he will be here at the beginning of next week. Although I am a completely free agent in this matter, and can go and come as I like, still I think it is my duty to inform my father of my resolution as soon as possible."

"Certainly, certainly," agreed Count Wettborn, "a week sooner or later makes no difference."

And that was just what the officers thought when they heard that Winkler was going. Whether he remained a week more or less – that was a matter of no importance – the thing was, they were going to get rid of him.

"I say, boys, we'll be a little bit nice to him during these last few days," suggested one of the officers. "We will behave as if we were rather sorry that he's going, for, after all, it's not exactly his fault that he doesn't suit us. Besides, it would be a good thing for us if the memory of his last days among us was a pleasant one; later on he will often tell stories of the days when he had the honour of belonging to us, and although, of course, it doesn't really matter what he says about us to his shopkeeper friends, still, it won't do us any harm if he says, 'The "Golden Butterflies" are a damned fine regiment; they're a charming set of good-hearted, dear fellows who are second to none in their friendliness and good fellowship.'"

But the proposal evoked no response. "For his own sake he won't say much about his dealings with us and how we drove him out."

But they all agreed, however, to drop every appearance of ill-will and to be, at least outwardly, polite and amiable during these last days.

George could scarcely suppress a contemptuous laugh when he noticed the sudden change of feeling, and an ironical word was always on the tip of his tongue when his comrades asked sympathetically after his future plans, and feigned interest in all his concerns. Often he was sorely tempted to cry out – "Don't trouble yourselves, you know you can't disguise your joy in getting rid of me." But he was silent. What was the good of saying anything, the officers would not have admitted their true feelings.

One day at lunch a comrade went so far as to offer him a glass of champagne. He had just won a few hundred marks in the Prussian lottery and had received permission from the eldest officer at the table to celebrate it in this way.

Winkler could scarcely believe his ears when his companion said to him: "You'll do me the pleasure of drinking a glass of champagne with me, won't you?"

George's first instinct was to cry out: "During the whole time that I have been here not a single human being has shown me the least kindliness; I must, therefore, decline the honour." Anger and indignation rose within him that now, just as he was leaving, anyone should dare to show hospitality to him, but suddenly his sense of humour got the upper hand, the invitation seemed so utterly absurd, and he accepted it with thanks. "But only on one condition," he added, following a sudden impulse, and then in a loud voice so that everyone could hear, "On the day when my resignation is accepted I should like to give a solemn farewell banquet to my fellow-officers. I can only accept an invitation if I know that I shall have an opportunity of returning it. You will come, will you not," he said, turning to his host, "and you – and you and you?" He invited everybody at the long table, and not a single one refused; all were thinking the same thing: "If it pleases him, why on earth shouldn't we for once have a good spread at his expense? One isn't, therefore, pledged to anything, the thing need go no further."

George was overcome by a feeling of repugnance towards his comrades when he found that they all accepted his invitation: were they not ashamed of accepting hospitality from a man whom they had treated so badly? He had been joking when he gave the invitation, and had felt quite certain that they would all have made excuses of some sort or another, and he had been pleased at the idea of these excuses, and now they had, one and all, accepted! And it did not stop there; the officers inquired when and where the dinner would be; not in the club-room, it was to be hoped. The rooms, of course, were beautiful, but always the same food. How nice it would be to have it in one of the best restaurants! A few pounds more or less wouldn't matter to him, of course, and they hoped he would order French champagne only.

"I heard rather a good story lately about that," said one of the officers; "let's see, what was it? Oh, yes, I remember; If you give your guest German champagne and tell him it is French, he will not be deceived, and will not drink it; but give him French champagne and say it is German he'll drink it right enough. Mind you make a note of that, Winkler." George promised to remember this and to send the invitations as soon as he had spoken to his father about it.

"When is your father coming?" George himself did not know, and expected him daily; so did the "Golden Butterflies." They began to get anxious when still the old fellow did not come. What if he was not coming at all? Perhaps it had been the stratagem of George's to speak about his resignation and to try and produce a change of feeling towards him; perhaps the old fellow would not appear for ages, and it had been a trick of George's to make fools of them, to make merry at their expense, and to a certain extent to have his revenge on them.

They were getting frightfully anxious about the matter; the joy, therefore, was great when one day at lunch in the Casino George's fellow-officer in his company, Baron von Masemann, informed them: "The manufacturer of trouser buttons has arrived. I saw him last night in a restaurant."

"Thank Heaven!" was uttered by all; and then the question was immediately asked, "What's he like?"

"Quite impossible. The fellow wears a ready-made tie, unstarched cuffs, and a pair of boots that one can see at a glance were never made in Berlin; and then at dinner the fellow cuts his bread with a knife instead of breaking it."

"How awful!"

An exclamation of genuine indignation arose from all present.

"Do stop," implored a young lieutenant; "remember we have only just had our lunch."

"Calm yourselves, my friends," continued the baron; "in spite of all drawbacks the old boy has one great advantage."

"And what is that?"

"He has a daughter."

"What, really! Winkler never told us a word about it."

All surrounded the speaker, eager with curiosity.

"Is she pretty?" asked one at last, and the others pressed more closely to hear the answer.

The baron purposely delayed his answer for some time, then he said: "Pretty? my dear boys, she's much more than that, and although she comes from the provinces she's awfully chic. But you must see her figure. I can tell you – " and he smacked his tongue.

"Did you get introduced to her?"

"Unfortunately, no; I was with friends in the restaurant, and had no opportunity of getting rid of them, but this evening it will be all right. I heard quite by chance that the old trouser-button manufacturer reserved a table for himself for to-day. I shall take good care to be there, and when once I am introduced to the young lady I have no fear about conquering."

"In other words, you are trying to catch the gold fish."

Baron von Masemann calmly lit a cigarette. "Someone will marry her. Why shouldn't I be that someone?"

"Quite so, but do you think the coup will be successful?"

The baron shrugged his shoulders. "Who can say? One can but try. After all, one can't get more than a refusal at the worst. And then why should the old boy say 'No,' if I only succeed in making the daughter infatuated about me? My family is first-class. I myself am not worse than other fellows, and the few debts I have are of no importance; the old fellow has plenty of money, and ought to be delighted if he can get such an aristocratic son-in-law for his money."

The others quite agreed; what reason indeed could the father and daughter possibly have for not receiving the baron with open arms? And thereupon several of them regarded the suggested engagement as a fait accompli.

"Were you on friendly terms with Winkler when you were together in the company?" one of the men asked. "Perhaps he'll have a word to say in the matter."

"I was thinking about that last night," replied Masemann. "We were certainly not particularly friendly, but still Winkler ought to be very glad to have me for a brother-in-law. In this way he will remain to a certain extent connected with the regiment, and that is really of very great advantage to him. Only think what a position the fellow will be able to take in Society if he can say, 'My brother-in-law, Baron Von Masemann.' That is almost as valuable to him as being aristocratic himself. Naturally I shall manage not to have too much of my brother-in-law, and shall see that he is not always running in and out of my house; but that's all later on, the present thing is to try one's luck."

But that evening the baron had no luck; he waited in vain for the Winklers. They were all sitting in George's rooms, and the honorary commercial adviser to the Emperor was telling them of the audience he had had with His Majesty, and how he had graciously inquired after George and expressed his pleasure at the way George had acted with regard to the ill-treatment of soldiers. He went on to tell them how pleased His Majesty was to hear a good report of him from the officers and of his popularity among his comrades. His Majesty greatly regretted that, owing to other arrangements, he could not keep his promise of asking George to dine with him to-morrow.

"Did I not always tell you so?" concluded the old man. "Do you remember how at first you wanted to fling down your gun in despair? Who was right – you or I?"

George exchanged a hasty glance with his sister, whom he had informed of his resolution yesterday; he had not wanted to spoil his father's pleasure in seeing him again on the very first day, and he also wanted to prevent his father from saying anything about his resignation in his audience with the Emperor. So he had kept silent till this moment, but now he was obliged to speak, and his father's last words made the task easy.

"What if I am right after all, father. When I tell you I am just as much an 'outsider' to-day as I ever was, when I tell you that my position in the regiment was not improved by His Majesty's praise of me, and that the officers' story of my popularity was simply a lie to avoid vexing the Emperor – what would you say then?"

The father looked at his son with astonishment.

"I do not understand what you mean!"

"I will explain myself a little more fully." And he proceeded to relate in detail all that had happened to him from the very first day he entered the regiment; how they longed for him to send in his resignation, and how, at last, he had made up his mind to do so, not to please the "Golden Butterflies," but simply in order to be able to enjoy life once more.

The father listened, absolutely disconcerted, then he struck a sounding blow on the table. "And what if I forbid you to do so, and order you to remain an officer for some time longer?"

George looked at him calmly. "You will not command me to do this, father. You told me when I entered the army I was perfectly free to leave it whenever I liked, and you will not go back from your word."

"But what if I do – what if I don't want the other officers to triumph in your failure?"

"Then I should resign in spite of it. I am of age and can do what I like."

The old man was on the verge of losing complete self-control. "And what if I disinherit you?"