Life in a German Crack Regiment

Hildegarde was somewhat embarrassed at these words. Then he had also told his people about her, perhaps even he had confessed that he meant to win her hand. The remembrance of her brother's letter came back to her. She must tell him all before it was too late. How was she to do it? Nobody was paying any attention to their conversation, but how was she to express what she wanted to say? As he had not told her what his intentions were, she could not very well say to him: "Don't think of wooing; on account of my family I will not and cannot be your wife." And yet if without further explanations she spoke about their poverty at home, might it not occur to him that perhaps she expected help from him or his father. She could find no way out of the difficulty. Then she wondered why he had never spoken to her about his sister. She was much astonished, and at last she said: "Have you a sister, then, Lieutenant Winkler? Why did you never tell me about her?"

He looked at her surprised: "What! did I never tell you about her? You mustn't take that amiss, for I had no intention of not talking about her to you."

"And why should you not talk about her to other people?" she inquired, with some curiosity.

George was embarrassed, and blushed like a child. "I can't exactly explain it. Perhaps it is that when one loves anybody very much one does not speak much about them to anyone. And even if I had wanted to talk about her, to whom should I have talked? In the regiment no one takes the faintest interest in me, far less in my family, and naturally, I don't talk about such matters unless I am asked." Then, after a slight pause, he continued: "And there's another reason why I don't care to talk about Elsa."

"And what is that?" Hildegarde asked, as he was silent.

"I don't know how to express in words exactly what I want to say. I don't want to appear suspicious of my comrades, neither do I wish to represent myself as a model of virtue, which, indeed, I am not, and could not be, at twenty-seven years old. But I can't help saying that at mess my fellow-officers have a way of talking about young girls, whom they meet in Society, which is simply revolting to me. No, not revolting, that's too strong," he corrected himself. "I am simply astounded, and constantly say to myself: 'Haven't these officers sisters, and haven't their mothers taught them any respect and reverence for women; so that they don't treat all alike?' In my old regiment it was quite different; we were not perhaps more moral men, but in the little town where we were brought into such close relationship with the few families, we could not criticise the young girls so freely and so shamelessly. I remember how once at dinner an officer went so far as to make an insulting remark about one of the ladies. The orderlies were sent out of the room, and the oldest officer at the table, an old captain, read the young lieutenant such a lecture before us all, that he never said a single word in excuse."

"That is as it ought to be," said Hildegarde.

"Certainly," George agreed, "that is why I am astonished that our officers don't feel like that. If only the girls, who so often regard a lieutenant as the paragon of perfection, knew, or could hear with their own ears how the officers talk about them after they have been to an entertainment, they would blush with shame, and a lieutenant would soon cease to be their ideal. There are, of course, exceptions, thank God! but most of my fellow-officers are as I have just described, and it is the same in other regiments; to them a woman is just like a horse – a thing to be examined and appraised. How is it, I wonder, that a young girl is of so little account to a lieutenant, that he talks of her without the least respect? I have often thought over the matter. Is it, perhaps due to their education? Most of them grow up in the regiment; they have no home life; they only see their sisters and their friends when on leave; as cadets, they go into Society to make conquests, and each conquest helps to lower all young girls in their eyes. Perhaps the girls themselves are to a certain extent answerable for this state of affairs. In Society there exists no one but a lieutenant for them, they ignore a civilian, unless he happens to be a reserve officer. The lieutenant simply goes about in pursuit of conquest, and often he wins the victory only too easily. I cannot speak of this from my own experience. I am a stranger here, but I have often heard my comrades talk of young girls who push themselves forward, send them love-letters, and who do not even wait until they are asked to give a rendezvous, but ask permission to be allowed to visit the officers, either in a friend's house, or in the officers' quarters."

"But, Lieutenant Winkler," interrupted Hildegarde, "no lady would do such a thing."

"She certainly ought not to do so," he agreed, "but, nevertheless, she does. Just give a glance at the select company here. How many of these aristocratic ladies have not a more or less harmless intrigue with a lieutenant? It is not only the married ladies, I can assure you. Those young girls trip about so modestly and chastely, yet their great pride is that, in spite of their youth, they have had a past."

Hildegarde knew only too well that he was right. She remembered how most of the friends of her youth had had a lieutenant lover. How often had she not spoken to them about this, and reproached them, but all had given the same answer: "Why shouldn't I have a lover? the others have, and what's the use of being young and beautiful? Do you think that our blood remains calm when a man pays court to us the whole evening, presses us closely to him when dancing, and casts longing glances at us? Are we to wait till we have a husband? We may wait a long time, perhaps for ever, and what then? Do you want us to die without having had experience of life? How ridiculous!"

They told one another with truly cynical frankness how they managed to deceive their parents and prevent any consequence of their intrigues. Perhaps Hildegarde was naturally too cold and too lacking in passion to understand her friends. Above all, she could not understand the officers who, more than all others, ought to be regarded as honourable men, and who yet made no scruples of entering into a liaison with the wife or daughter of the house where they enjoyed the pleasantest social relations.

Hildegarde and George sat for a long time occupied with their own thoughts. George misinterpreted Hildegarde's silence. He thought she was perhaps vexed with his remarks, and so he said:

"I hope you are not angry with me for having spoken so freely and frankly in your presence; but we have both of us been brought up among quite different circumstances and educated in quite different views."

Hildegarde felt that she blushed. Grown up among different circumstances indeed! It was entirely her own merit that she did not resemble her companions. Perhaps, however, it was partly due to her father and brother who had constantly written to her: "Don't throw yourself away, and don't enter into a liaison if you are not sure that it will lead to marriage. You will get nothing out of it, and then you lower your value and utterly destroy the hopes we set upon you."

How often had she not wondered whether her brother would have been quite inconsolable if she had written to him: "I have not found a husband but a friend. If you will pardon this, I will pay your debts."

She did not doubt that he would accept the money in order to remain an officer and play the fêted and envied rôle in Society of a soldier.

"Are you angry with me?" George asked, as Hildegarde still remained silent.

She roused herself from her thoughts. "Why should I be?" And in order to turn the conversation, which was painful to her, to another subject, she again inquired about his sister. And then George told her all about his sister – how charming and beautiful she was, how kindly and good, how they had grown up together as excellent friends, and how often they had fought each other's battles when they were children. He told his stories gaily, with sparkling eyes, and Hildegarde listened with interest.

"Do you know, I envy you your sister, or rather the pleasant relation in which you stand to her. Sisterly love is such a beautiful thing."

"Yes, certainly; but you are also in that happy situation. You have a brother."

"Please do not speak to me about him."

There was such a tone of contempt and depreciation in her words that he looked at her with astonishment.

"But, baroness, he is your brother."

"You do not know him. Please let us change the subject."

"Certainly, if you wish it."

In his embarrassment George emptied his glass and vainly thought of another topic, and both were glad when at last everybody rose from the table.

The ball went on till the small hours of the morning, and during the dancing George never lost sight of Hildegarde. He had the pleasure of being able to introduce some fresh officers and partners; and he was really more delighted than she was at the admiration she evoked.

It was late when at last the ball broke up. George, at the last moment, was unable to say farewell to Hildegarde, and he walked home with a companion in a somewhat bad humour.

His companion was apparently occupied with some thoughts that interested him. Suddenly he stood still and seized George by the arm. "What will you bet that he wins her? That would be much better than a lucky stroke at cards."

George regarded his comrade with astonishment. "I don't understand what you mean. Whom are you speaking about?"

The other went on walking again. "Oh, yes, of course, you don't know Gastion of the Hussars. My gracious, he has paid court to Fräulein von Reisinger this evening! Well, she is no longer very young, and she never was pretty, but her family is a very old Jewish one. I believe her mother was a Moses, but that doesn't matter. She has money; a frightful amount of money. If Gastion gets that, he can live in fine style. But he certainly needs it; he is said to be two hundred thousand marks in debt."

George had listened without apparently much interest. Then he said: "Is it not really frightful that we officers – present company, of course, excepted – when we choose a wife, make it a matter of convenience? We live luxuriously, we fling away our money and our health, and when one day we are at the end of our tether, we look out at balls and parties for a rich young girl who will put things right for us again. The more money she has the more, of course, we run after her. How few marry on their pay!"

"Well, of course, that's ridiculous; who can live on a few pence."

"I quite agree with you, though many people manage to do so. But still is it not a very interesting psychological fact that almost every officer falls in love with a girl who is rich and ugly? Yet no one of course ever admits that he has married for money. It is indeed insulting and libellous to suggest such a thing. On the contrary, everyone pretends that in spite of his wife's lack of beauty and more or less unpleasing characteristics, he really loves her. If she had no money he would of course not look at her. To speak quite frankly, I cannot in the least understand how rich parents can give their daughter to an officer. People must know that officers only accept their daughters because of the money, and I cannot imagine how the girls themselves can be so foolish as to suppose they are married for love."

"Excuse me," put in his companion, "you are expressing very curious views. According to you, then, young girls who are rich ought not to marry at all."

"I beg your pardon, I do not say that, but they ought to marry whom they like, only not lieutenants, who, in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of one thousand would not dream of marrying if they were not up to their ears in debt."

"It is all very well for you to talk," said the other. "It is easy you know for a man who is born into the world a millionaire to judge a poor devil severely. What you say is all very beautiful and noble in theory, but what about practice? When I can, I prefer to ride in my own carriage, rather than the electric tram. Ah, here our ways separate, you go to the right, I to the left. What time do you go on duty to-morrow?"

"Not at all in the morning."

"Lucky fellow, I must be on parade at seven. Good-night."

After a cool handshake the comrades separated and a little later George reached his rooms.

CHAPTER VI

Military Morals

It had all turned out just as George had foretold; the kindly words which His Majesty had addressed to him at the American Embassy and the warm praise of his father, had not contributed towards improving his position in the regiment; on the contrary, it had made it worse. Scarcely a day passed but some one or other in George's absence talked about him and discussed the Emperor's remarks. Whatever had made the Emperor specially distinguish him, the only plebeian officer of the regiment? Even the colonel had had to be content with a mere handshake, the staff officers, not to mention the others, had scarcely received a glance; George alone had been addressed. Was it mere chance or was it really the report of the button manufacturer – as Old Winkler was always called for shortness – that had occasioned the remarks? And what on earth could such a manufacturer tell His Majesty which he did not know already? Old Winkler indeed was said to be unique in his arrangements for the benefits of his workpeople and in his efforts for their welfare, and he had discovered new methods and means of ameliorating their existence. Of course, everybody knew that His Majesty was deeply interested in the condition of the working classes, but in spite of this, they thought this public praise of Old Winkler somewhat ostentatious and superfluous, if an officer – and therefore a loyal subject – might venture to criticise His Majesty's words. Or had the Emperor's words any particular significance? The Emperor knew, of course, what was thought about George in the regiment, how he was still an "outsider," and would always remain one. Had His Majesty's words meant – "You need not trouble yourselves, you will not get rid of Lieutenant Winkler, he has a powerful protector in me." Had he perhaps wanted to encourage George by his gracious words to persevere and not to despair even if he had not succeeded in winning a good position in the regiment?

Not a single "Golden Butterfly" had ever been commanded to attend at Court, except on the occasion of some great entertainment; then the regiment had appeared as a whole, and even this distinction had made them feel very proud. And now George was publicly invited by the Emperor to come with his father to dine at Court. It was well known that His Majesty frequently gave little parties where everybody was quite unconstrained, and there was much lively conversation. The Emperor surprised everyone by the astonishing amount of his knowledge and fascinated all by his great personal attractions. Why should George be invited to share in these intimate little parties? Simply because he was the son of his father. And who indeed was his father? He was merely a middle-class button manufacturer, and he would remain that, even if he were wiser and more important than all the other wise men put together.

They would not have grudged any of their other companions the honour which had been paid to George. They would have regarded it as an honour paid to the aristocratic classes to which they themselves belonged. They grudged it George because they said to themselves: "If nowadays the middle-class is to be honoured in this way, what is there then for the nobility, who have done, and will do more, for Germany than manufacture trouser-buttons, which certainly have the advantage of being durable and cheap."

Up till the present the officers had not troubled to take any notice of George. Now they turned their attention to him, and although he was always quiet and modest in his behaviour to his companions, and yet dignified without being proud, they became even haughtier than they had formerly been. More than ever they were the aristocrats; more than ever they endeavoured to show him what a great and impassable barrier divided him from them. Their behaviour indicated as clearly as words: "We intend to get rid of him; one day he himself will perceive that he cannot possibly remain with us any longer."

George was perfectly well aware of the feeling that existed against him, and even if he had wanted to deceive himself in this matter, one thing would have opened his eyes to this fact. This was the condescending manner in which young Willberg regularly every week, purely as a matter of form, made his excuses for not having been able to return the £50 which he had been obliging enough to lend him.

"I really do not want the money," George said every time; "on the contrary, I live so economically that I save money. I would gladly lend you a larger amount, and you need not hurry about paying it back."

George noticed how very gladly young Willberg accepted the generously-offered help, for it was an open secret that he would not be able to go on much longer. Nobody knew exactly how he stood with regard to money matters. He did not gamble more than the others, but he had other expenses. In the eyes of young girls in Society, he enjoyed much distinction in consequence of his amours. He knew how interesting he was to them, because he had the reputation of not being able to be faithful to anyone. And he knew equally well that in spite of this reputation, or rather just because of it, he would have no difficulty in winning a rich wife one day. The bride would be envied for having a fiancé with such an interesting past; they would consider her lucky to have caught him. He intended to marry later, but his wife must have money, a great deal of money, for he had no intention of changing his mode of life when he was a married man. Willberg had no idea of the value of money, and whenever he was able to borrow a few pounds from a relative he could not rest until he had spent it. He was continually in debt, and just now things were very bad with him. He was always complaining of his wretched position, and drank more wine than usual to drown his cares. He owed money all round the regiment, and George foresaw that it would not be long before young Willberg would again borrow from him without being able to discharge his former debt. And the moment came sooner than even George had imagined.