Life in a German Crack Regiment

The other looked up astonished. "Have you come to the end of your tether? Have you lost all your money, then?"

"I never play, sir."

"What!" the other almost dropped his eyeglass in his astonishment, and looked at George for a long time speechless. "What!" he said once more, then he continued: "Come here and sit by me – you must tell me – how you manage to get along without playing cards, or rather how can you resist the temptation!"

"That's not a difficulty for me, sir, gambling has absolutely no attraction for me. A couple of years ago I was at Monte Carlo, and watched the gambling for hours together, but I never had the slightest desire to stake a penny."

"What, really!" Again the other looked at him as if such ideas were beyond his comprehension. "Really, I can't understand it. What then do you do with your money if you don't play cards?"

"What I don't spend during the month I put into the bank."

"Well, but what's the use of that – I mean what's the fun of it? Why don't you spend all your money? You're not a tradesman but a young lieutenant. Well, all I know is, that if I had your money I shouldn't put any in the bank."

"I say, Kirchberg, wherever have you hidden yourself?" said a comrade who just then came into the room. "We are still playing Half-part: the first lot of capital has gone to the devil. Have you got any money about you?"

"Is the Uhlan still winning?"

The other scratched his ears. "Yes, horribly."

Kirchberg lit another cigar. "Then we will first let him get to the end of his tether. Let him first win other people's ducats, and then we'll try to win them back again. Who is at the present moment in his toils?"

"Little Willberg. The fellow's had extraordinary luck to-day; he stakes each time on seven, which has been thrown down five times in succession. He's just revelling in gold, and the Uhlan naturally wants to win back the money."

"Is Willberg calm?"

"How could he possibly be? He's trembling with excitement in all his limbs."

"What a pity! for then all's up with him. However, I want to see the thing."

He got up and went back into the card-room, and almost involuntarily George followed him. He felt as if he wanted to help Willberg, to whisper in his ear, "Be prudent; stop in time; put your winnings in your pocket; you have plenty for the present."

But Willberg had not the least intention of stopping. For a start the luck had been against him, but now he won time after time. The other officers had long ceased to play and were watching these two. Willberg was excited and nervous, feverish and trembling. The Uhlan, on the contrary, was absolutely calm, immovable as brass; not an eye-lash quivered, and his hand did not tremble in the slightest degree when he pushed over the winnings to his antagonist. He had to count out huge sums of money. The amount that he had won as banker had long vanished; the bank-notes which he had brought from home had dwindled down to a tiny heap. Gold and paper money was heaped up in front of Willberg, probably to the amount of about twenty thousand marks.

The Uhlan counted out his money. "I can stake for the last time a thousand marks on the seven. If I lose and have to pay out seven thousand marks, I shall break the bank."

An indescribable excitement took possession of them all. Never before had they seen the Uhlan lose so much, and the "Golden Butterflies" were filled with pride that one of their officers should have caused this extraordinary state of things.

The last stake! The seven had so often brought Willberg good luck, surely it would stay with him to the end.

"A thousand marks on the seven."

The banker shuffled the cards. "Eight!" and he shovelled in the money.

"A thousand on the seven again."

The cards showed the six! For one moment the Uhlan's eyes glittered. Now he knew he had won the game. It could not last more than a quarter of an hour, for he had won back all he had lost. It really would have been inconceivable that he could have lost to-day, especially to a mere child like this, who gambled so imprudently and thoughtlessly that he must lose everything he had won. And Willberg went on losing; the heap of money shrunk more and more. Several times some of his comrades were on the point of saying, "Stop; save at least a couple of thousand marks." But that wouldn't do; it wouldn't be fair. As earlier they had allowed the Uhlan, who was their guest, to get to the point of losing everything, they could not now warn Willberg.

"Now, Herr Willberg, have you the courage to go on?"

He sat there, white as a corpse; every drop of blood had vanished from his face. He had lost all; his £50 note of which he had been so proud; not the smallest gold coin did he possess.

"Will you go on playing?" the Uhlan asked for the second time.

Willberg looked round. Perhaps one of his companions would lend him some money. But the adjutant stepped in: "No, that's enough for you to-day. Some of us others will now try our luck."

They went on playing, but Willberg went into an ante-room and sank down on a sofa. Suddenly he was overcome by a nervous reaction; he buried his face in his hands and burst into convulsive sobs.

George was standing not far from him, and looked at him sorrowfully and sympathetically. He could not in the least understand – he had not the faintest comprehension of how a man could become so infatuated with a game of cards; but in spite of this he was sorry for the poor fellow whose pecuniary difficulties were no secret. For one brief moment he had been rich; now he was poorer than ever, because he had experienced the feeling of possessing money, if only for the time being. It was on the tip of his tongue to go up to his comrade and offer him help; but he had not the courage to put himself forward in this way; he did not wish to risk a snub. And he was quite sure he had acted wisely when Willberg, having recovered his self-possession, got up to go home and went out as if he had not been aware of George's presence. Was he ashamed of his reckless gambling or his tears? He went off without bidding George adieu.

The latter was therefore greatly astonished when next morning Willberg visited him in his rooms. From the first moment he guessed the object of this visit, and his guess became a certainty when he saw his visitor's pale face. After a few casual words of greeting the latter came to the point.

"Last night you were with us, though only as a spectator, so you know that I lost all my winnings, but I also lost another thousand which I had just received, in order to pay some pressing accounts. I have tried to borrow the money from one of my friends, but the Uhlan has cleaned them all out in the same way, so that not one of them to-day has as much as a thousand that he can call his own. Even our chief is going about with empty pockets. So I have come to you to ask if you can lend me this. I must tell you, quite openly and straightforwardly, that I cannot name the exact day when I can return you the money, but I will do so as soon as ever I can, I give you my word."

"But, please, I really do not require that."

George had risen, and went to his desk to get a note, which he handed to his companion.

The latter shook George's hand gratefully. "You have done me a great service." And after a slight pause, he continued, with unmistakable embarrassment, "I have just one more request: I may rely on your not telling anyone that I have borrowed from you?"

"How could I do such a thing?" asked George, astonished.

But the other did not appear perfectly satisfied with this answer. "Don't take it amiss, but I beg you to give me your word that you will not tell anyone of my visit to you?"

George looked at him with intense astonishment. How could Willberg ask such a thing? However he said: "If it is any satisfaction to you, I will certainly give you my word, though I cannot see any reason for it."

Willberg breathed more freely and took leave, after thanking George most warmly.

CHAPTER V

Hildegarde and George

Several weeks passed and George was still "sent to Coventry by the regiment," as he called it. He still had not a single friend with whom he had any close relations. His hope that Willberg, whom he had helped out of his difficulty, would get on more friendly terms with him, was not fulfilled. On the contrary, the latter had less to do with him than usual, although he had not yet paid his debt. George did not trouble about this. He had already had many disagreeable experiences in these matters in his old regiment; but as he himself had grown up in quite different circumstances, he did not really grasp the attitude of the "Golden Butterflies" with regard to money. They had no hesitation, even in the presence of the orderlies, in borrowing from each other. Very often, indeed, they made no scruples about saying to their servants: "Spend this or that amount on my behalf," but the money was not always returned to the orderly the same day. They got credit wherever they could, and borrowed from all possible sources. In the chief restaurant, where they often passed the evenings rather than stay at home in barracks, many of the officers owed the waiter fifty or sixty marks actually in cash, besides what they owed for food and drinks. And it was just those who owed the waiter most, who lived most extravagantly, ate the dearest food and drank the most expensive wine, and when they went off it was always, "Muller, put down twenty marks to my account, you know you'll get it all right." But the question was, when? Some of the officers had owed this money for months, and they never thought of paying back; so long as they wore a uniform, surely the money was safe enough. George noticed with astonishment that the officers in Berlin were just as lax in these matters as they had been in his former regiment. Once in the little garrison town, in a restaurant much frequented by the military, there was a row with the landlord; the officers boycotted the place and swore that the fellow shouldn't get another penny from them. But not a single one of them thought of paying his debts, part of which were due to the landlord, part to the waiter. It was only when the landlord complained to the colonel that he obtained redress, but even then it was in a curious manner. The colonel did not order his officers to pay their debts within twenty-four hours, but he gave them six weeks in which to discharge their liabilities. And so the landlord and the waiter, who really needed their money, had to wait patiently all that time.

George remembered another incident that had taken place only a few weeks ago. One morning a senior lieutenant had appeared at lunch much excited, and said that the hairdresser to whom they all went had written and dunned him on account of a miserable debt of a few pounds, and had threatened him with a summons through the post, as he was in great difficulties and wanted his money at once. The officer openly admitted that he had had the hairdresser's bill several times, but had never paid him a penny. But, in spite of this, there was a storm of indignation at the hairdresser's daring to write to him. Why should the fellow want his money in such a hurry? Couldn't he wait? The few pounds were quite safe, and nobody ever sends a man of position a summons through the post. The end of the story was that the "Golden Butterflies" were forbidden to patronise the hairdresser's shop, but, in spite of this, the officers who owed money there did not discharge their debt.

Certainly in all matters connected with money they had few scruples and lax views. Debts were only considered as such when they consisted of actual money; they never reckoned in what was owing to a tradesman. The fellow was there, of course, to give credit; he had to wait two or three years, sometimes much longer, before getting his money. He ought to be delighted if the officers came into his shop, and ought to be willing to pay something for the honour of having such customers, and getting a good advertisement. They got credit everywhere, and once it happened that a lieutenant owed his own servant twenty marks. The incident was revealed when the recruits were dismissed. The colonel when discharging the recruits said: "Has any one of you any claims on the regiment? if so, let him make it now." Then a young recruit stepped forward and said in a loud voice: "I am still owed twenty marks by my former lieutenant, which he borrowed from me a few months ago when I had some money from home." The matter was investigated, and found to be quite correct; the fellow was paid his money and the lieutenant received a severe rebuke. But everyone thought it was an unheard-of thing for a discharged soldier to bring a complaint against his former lieutenant. Nobody, however, asked if the man were in a position to bear the loss of twenty marks.

George remained completely isolated among his companions. Nobody troubled in the least about him. His astonishment therefore was all the greater when one day after lunch his adjutant sat down beside him, and engaged him in a long and very friendly conversation. He could not quite account for this mark of distinction, but he quickly understood when Count Wettborn suddenly said to him: "I have for a long time meant to ask you why your father does not try to get a title. The thing is certainly not easy, but your father is well thought of by His Majesty, and it would be easy to overcome the difficulty if your father would be disposed to give a couple of hundred thousand marks for some charitable object. Your father could certainly do that – why doesn't he?"

"Because my father is proud of his own name, which he has made an honourable one."

The count rubbed his feet with some embarrassment, then he said: "Of course, your father is quite right as far as he himself is concerned, but he ought to think of you. You would take quite a different position in Society if you were a baron or a count. The world lays great stress on this, and in my opinion it is quite right. For you, especially, now that you belong to a distinguished regiment, a title would be of the greatest value."

The count talked to George for a long time, and the latter saw clearly that the adjutant in saying all he did was not following a sudden impulse, but was acting on mature reflection, and had evidently consulted the wish of the colonel or one or other of the military authorities. George felt the blood mount to his cheeks. He felt ashamed that his companion had the audacity to talk to him in this way. Good heavens! was a title then, which could be bought for a few hundred thousands, really of much more importance to these aristocratic lieutenants, who were ciphers when they got out of their uniforms, than a good, old, simple middle-class name which was honoured and respected by the whole commercial world?

He could not help saying in reply to the adjutant: "My father has often enough been offered a peerage, but every time he has refused it."

"I cannot understand such a thing." The count stuck his eyeglass in more firmly and looked at George with speechless astonishment. "I really cannot understand it," he repeated, and George saw that he spoke in bitter earnest. He really could not understand how a man could refuse a title, simply because he was proud of his own plain name.