A Little Garrison Part 20

When Leimann returned home about eight o'clock, he found all the rooms dark and silent.

To his question about his wife the maid answered:

"The gracious lady has gone out."

"Where to?"

"I do not know, Herr First Lieutenant!"

He lit a lamp and then went to the letter-box to ascertain whether anything had arrived by the evening mail. He found two letters with bills inside, amounting to over six hundred marks.

He did a little grumbling to himself, and then locked up the two "rags" in his desk.

In doing so he noticed a large yellow envelope. Supposing it to be an official letter, he seized it, intending to open it. But he found that it had been already opened, and his curiosity grew as he drew from it three large sheets.

Without at first catching its purport, he gazed at the clerical handwriting in it, and then he sat down at the table and read the whole doc.u.ment from beginning to end.

Ah, indeed, his wife too? Why, that was quite a charming surprise! If her funds were running so low as to oblige her to contract debts it would be vain, he thought, to expect any help from his mother-in-law, and yet he had always counted on her as a last resort. In a rage he flung the summons and the legal statement into a corner and went up and down in the room, musing on the financial embarra.s.sment of his wife.

Probably Frau Leimann had heard the steady tramp of his feet through the ceiling, for now she entered with exuberant excuses.

"My dear George," said she, breathlessly, "I had a pressing engagement with my dressmaker, and I ran after you in the street. I saw you pa.s.sing before me, but I could not catch up with you."

"What did you have to do with your dressmaker?" Leimann confronted her furiously.

"What else should I have had to do there than business for which I pay her? She is making a riding-habit for me!"

"You had better first pay for your old rubbish before ordering any new gear!" shouted he.

"Why this tone to me? And who tells you that I do not pay my bills?

You think, I suppose, that I'm squandering my money as you are squandering yours."

"If you do not wish me to see what the bailiff brings you, you had better not leave it directly under my nose."

His wife for an instant did not quite understand what he meant by that, but then she recollected that she had left the summons on her husband's desk.

"I must tell you very emphatically," she flared up indignantly, "not to put your nose into my private correspondence. If the letter was lying open on the table, you had no right to read it. _I_ never look at _your_ bills."

"Oh, do what you please; but I must request you not to bring the bailiff to my house."

"That is not the worst, _mon cher_, that may happen to you; he will know now at least the way here when he'll call on you next."

"Hold your tongue, you impudent woman, or I will throw you into the street."

"Many thanks for your kind offer, but I'm going of my own accord."

She left the room, went into her bed-chamber, and retired to rest.

Meanwhile on the floor below Borgert was reading a book; but his thoughts were far away. He had serious forebodings that all his creditors, like a pack of hungry wolfhounds, were about to engage in a joint hunt for him, or rather for the money that he didn't have. He was afraid that the colonel would soon demand the immediate payment of his load of debts, and that, if unable to comply with the order, resignation from the army was the only possible outcome. And what should he do then, without a penny, without any useful knowledge, and with many luxurious habits? Something must be done, he made up his mind, and he was going to employ the next day, a Sunday, to consider once more the various possibilities of raising a large sum, no matter how, to discharge all these liabilities, most of them small in themselves, but in their totality representing quite a fortune.

Solaced by the hope that after all some mild hand would open and drop into his lap a small mountain of gold, he fell asleep; the book slipped from his hands, and the lamp on the night table went out after midnight, since Borgert had forgotten to blow it out. He slept restlessly, and bad dreams pursued him. His load of debt developed into a nightmare that was pressing on his chest and threatening to crush out his life.

When he awoke in the morning it was past ten. Borgert began to rage.

Almost half the day was gone now, and yet he had meant to do so much.

Had this a.s.s of a servant again forgotten to wake him? With that his head ached, and he felt nervous and out of sorts. Throwing his dressing-gown loosely about him he went into his servant's room and found Rose laboriously penning a letter. When his master entered the poor fellow shot out of the seat and stood bolt upright.

"Why didn't you wake me, you beast?" he thundered at him.

"I wakened the Herr First Lieutenant at seven o'clock, but the Herr First Lieutenant wanted to continue sleeping and said I need not come back any more to annoy him."

"That's a lie, you swine; I will teach you to do as you are told." And he seized a leather belt lying on the fellow's bed, and with it struck Rose violently, then kicking him, and letting the belt play around his face and neck until broad livid marks began to show.

Rose preserved his military att.i.tude, and stood his punishment without in the least resisting. But that was a further cause of anger to Borgert, and the latter dropped the belt, and with his fist struck the man several hard blows in the chest. Then he took the man's letter, half finished as it was, crumpled it up in his hand, and threw it into the coal-scuttle.

"Step upstairs lively and tell Herr First Lieutenant Leimann that I want to speak to him. Tell him if possible to step in here for half an hour before he goes to town."

"At your orders, Herr First Lieutenant."

Borgert stepped back to his chamber, finished dressing, and then went into the adjoining room.

Sure enough, there stood his coffee, but cold as ice. In that case Rose must have been before him in the room. Well, a drubbing or two would do the fellow no harm. That was good for preserving discipline and a respect for his superiors, even if now and then it should be applied not exactly at the right moment.

On his desk were lying several letters. Three of them contained bills, and the fourth was from his father. The three he threw unopened into the fire, and the fourth he read as follows:

MY DEAR SON,--With growing concern I have seen from your last letter that you had again to incur large expenditures which hara.s.s you because you had not counted on them. Much as my desire would be to let you have the money you ask, with the best intentions it is not possible to do so. You know best how closely I have to economize to make both ends meet. If seventy-five marks would be any object to you, I could let you have them, although I had promised your mother this money for a new dress of which she stands in much need.

But I must frankly confess to you that I do not see why you should not be able to meet all your legitimate expenses with your pay and the two hundred marks allowance per month. At your age I did not have more than that myself, and yet I was able to undertake an extended trip every year. I give you the well-meant advice to live for a time a little more apart from your comrades, in order to reduce your expenses. Employ yourself diligently at home--there is so much to learn in your profession nowadays--and avoid carefully every opportunity which would force you into needless outlay which you would subsequently not be able to meet. Make your scale of living correspond to your income. If you will openly declare that this or that is too costly for you, every one will respect you the more, for they will see that you are not spending beyond your proper income. Do not live carelessly, and shun those amus.e.m.e.nts which you cannot afford. After all, it is both sensible and high-minded to live within one's means.

Write to me soon how you have regulated this affair and whether the small sum I can offer you will be of advantage to you.

In the hope that no inconvenience of a serious character will grow out of your present embarra.s.sment,

I remain, Your affectionate OLD FATHER.

When Borgert had read these lines, he crushed the paper within his palm and then cast it likewise into the stove. With a sigh he sank into a chair and began to ruminate.

At this moment his servant entered and announced Leimann.

Borgert went to the door to meet his friend, and when they had stepped into his study, Leimann asked with considerable anxiety:

"Well, what important matter is it you have for me this morning?"

Borgert planted himself squarely on his legs in front of the other and said with a.s.sumed gaiety:

"You see, my dear fellow, we all have our troubles. I have just about reached the end of my tether and should like to appoint you receiver of my a.s.sets."