A Little Garrison Part 3

"Pay?" His wonderment was great. "Pay for it? Why, what is the use of doing that? It has become unfashionable, and besides, so much good money is frittered away by paying. _I_ never pay, and yet I manage to live pretty comfortably."

"All very well, but there is my husband to think of besides," joked the pretty woman.

"Of course you still have him; but meanwhile you might try and accustom yourself to me--as his successor, you know."

Frau Leimann nodded cheerfully and then buried her empty little head in her hand, dreamily scanning the carpet. The others had left the two in sole possession of the room. The eyes of the officer sought hers, and there was a peculiar expression in them when they met.

"Why do you look at me that way?" said she. "You make me almost fear you."

"Afraid of your most dutiful slave?" whispered he, and his breath fanned her cheek. "Ah, no. But do not forget our conversation, loveliest of women. Things spoken in jest often come true in the end."

She looked up and smiled as if enchanted at the idea. Then she rose, and when he grasped one of her hands she made no effort to wrest it away. He imprinted a long-drawn kiss on it. She shivered and then rapidly glided into the adjoining room, where the jumble of sounds produced by tuning a variety of musical instruments was now heard. The strident notes of violins, the rumbling boom of a cello, and the broken chords of a piano were confusedly mingling, and the male guests were slowly dropping in or taking up a position, a half-smoked Havana or cigarette between the lips, just outside the door, so as to combine two sources of enjoyment. Borgert had remained behind in the next room, and was now studying intently a letter the contents of which plunged him in a painful reverie. At last he put back the letter in his breast pocket, audibly cursing its sender, and then joined the group nearest him.

At the parlor organ Captain Konig was seated, while his wife had taken charge of the piano accompaniment. Herr von Konradi and First Lieutenant Leimann stood ready with their violins, while Lieutenant Bleibtreu, the violoncello pressed between the knees, occupied the rear. The auditors, at least the majority of them, were comfortably ensconced in chairs or sofas, near the mantelpiece, and around a table on which a small battery of beer mugs, steins, and tankards was solidly planted.

They began to play: a trio by Reinhardt. It sounded well, for the performers had practised their respective parts thoroughly. But there were some disturbing factors, as is always the case with amateurs. The unwieldy agricultural counsellor rose on his creaking boots with every note he drew, and frequently snorted in his zeal. Leimann, too, was one of those one must not look at while performing, for his queer-shaped head had sunk between his shoulders and his bowed back presented a rather unaesthetic picture. The cellist, whose fingers were rather thick, occasionally grasped the wrong string, but tried to make up for this by bringing out the next tones with doubled vigor. The trio was followed by violin solos, and lastly by a Liszt rhapsody, played by the Konigs with warm feeling and sufficient technique.

For _finale_ the small audience overwhelmed the players with praise, and some more or less correct remarks were made about the different compositions.

"Oh, my dear Lieutenant Bleibtreu," cried Frau Stark, "I must resume my cello practice with you. It is such a soulful instrument, and I used to play it with tolerable proficiency in my younger days."

Bleibtreu made a grimace, and Captain Konig whispered to him that the elderly lady was unable to distinguish one note from another.

Borgert had looked on nonchalantly from the door during the concert.

Once in a while he glanced sharply at Frau Leimann, who was cosily reclining in an arm-chair, her eyes half closed, a prey to thoughts.

The players had now taken seats at the large table, and the conversation turned to trivial affairs of the day, the Frau Colonel a.s.suming the lion's share of it, for she was decidedly talkative. Thus another hour pa.s.sed; and when the clock on the mantel marked half-past ten, Colonel von Kronau gave his better half a look of understanding, and the latter slightly nodded in reply, and rose, saying to the lady of the house, with a smile:

"Dear Frau Konig, it was charming of you to prepare such an enchanting evening for us. But it is time for us to be going. Many thanks!"

The hostess made some polite objections; but when she saw that the Starks too, and the agricultural counsellor began to take formal leave, she desisted from any further attempts to retain her guests, not dissatisfied, on the whole, that but a small circle remained. For with them it was not necessary to weigh words as carefully as in the presence of the colonel. It frequently happened that he, the day after a social gathering, took occasion to reprove his captains and lieutenants for a careless turn of phrase or for something which he construed as a lack of respect shown to him or his wife.

Those five gone, the others moved their chairs closer together around the table, and some fresh, foaming nectar was served. Borgert started the talk.

"Did you notice how this Stark woman again had a whispered confab with the colonel?" he said. "Such manners I think they ought to leave at home, for there they are not very particular. Just fancy, the other day I was witness when Stark threw a slipper at his wife, and she on her part had received me in a horribly soiled and frowzy morning gown."

"I saw worse than that," interrupted Leimann. "Last week they had in my presence one of their frequent matrimonial disagreements, and the fat one, her husband, clinched the matter by shouting at her: 'Hold your tongue, woman!' A nice, lovable couple, those two!"

"Anyway, it seems as if she lorded it over him pretty effectually,"

broke in the adjutant. "Day before yesterday Stark had had his fill at the White Swan, and when he became a trifle noisy and quarrelsome his wife arrived on the scene and behaved simply disgracefully. Finally she tucked him under her arm and took him home amidst the shouts and laughter of the other guests. I don't think their meeting at home can have been an angelic one."

"That sort of thing happens every little while," remarked Pommer; "at least at the Casino[5] she appears whenever he does not depart punctually at mealtime, and calls him hard names before the very orderlies."

[5] "Casino"; the military club houses are so called.--ED.

"Well, she is keeping a sharp eye on him just now," said Captain Konig, good-humoredly, "for he wants to get his promotion as major, or, rather, it is her ambition to become Frau Major."

"Why, there can be no idea of that," interjected Borgert, with a great show of righteous indignation. "If this totally incapable idiot becomes major I ought to be made at least a general. Though it is queer that the colonel is evidently moving heaven and earth in his behalf."

"Good reason why," retorted Leimann, calmly.

"How so?"

"Don't you know the story? And yet it is in everybody's mouth."

"Then tell us, please, because we know not a word of it, and I scent something fiendishly interesting!" And Borgert rubbed his hands in antic.i.p.ation.

"Why, last year the colonel had, with his usual want of tact, insulted a civilian--a gentleman, you know. The latter sent him a challenge.

Our good colonel began to feel queer, for while he is constantly doing heroic things with his mouth, he is by no means fond of risking his skin. So after some talk with her, this Stark woman went to see the gentleman in question as peacemaker. She told him that the colonel was really innocent in the whole matter, and that she herself had been the cause of the trouble, having spread a false report under an erroneous impression. She managed to tell her yarn with so much plausibility as entirely to deceive and bamboozle the other party, who thereupon withdrew his challenge with expressions of his profound regret. So, you see, she saved the colonel's life, for the civilian is known as a dead shot. Since then she has the colonel completely in her power, and no matter what she tells him to do, he executes her orders like a docile poodle dog,--a fact which we all see ill.u.s.trated every day."

"Well, that explains the whole mystery, of course," delightedly shouted Borgert. "Don't you know any more such stories? For it is really high time to call a halt. He has manners like a ploughboy's, and she like a washerwoman's. I'll collect a few more tales of the sort. It is simply shameful that one must submit to the dictation of this woman."

"There are rumors that she had peculiar relations with a well-known n.o.bleman in her younger days; but I know nothing positive, mind you."

"Where in the world did you hear that now?"

"My military servant told me. He happens to hail from the neighborhood she comes from."

During this delectable interchange of gossip the wife of First Lieutenant Leimann had listened with gleaming eyes and heightened color; it seemed wonderfully interesting to her. Captain Konig, on the other hand, sucked his cigar thoughtfully, and his wife toyed with the embroidered border of the table-cover.

"Why so lost in thought, my gracious lady?" Borgert said.

"I was merely wondering what stories you gentlemen might hatch against _us_," she said with some dignity.

He was about pathetically to disclaim any such fell designs, when it was noticed that Frau Kahle had risen to bid farewell, and with her Lieutenant Pommer, whose escort home she had accepted, her husband being off on a short official trip.

They were barely gone, when Borgert remarked:

"I think we ought to subscribe for this poor Kahle woman, just enough to enable her to buy a new dress. I don't think she has anything to wear besides this faded, worn-out rag of hers. I am sick of seeing it."

"But you ought to see her at home," interjected Muller, in a minor key of disdain. "There she looks worse than a slovenly servant girl. And she doesn't seem to find time to patch up her dirty gown, while her boy, the only child she has, runs about the streets like a cobbler's apprentice from the lower town. One thing, though, that urchin _does_ know--he can lie like Satan."

"Inherited from his mother, of course," remarked Borgert, when a cold and reproachful look out of Frau Clara's eyes made him stop in the middle of his sentence. There was an embarra.s.sed silence for a minute, and when the talk was resumed it no longer furnished such "interesting" material. Captain Konig's yawning became more p.r.o.nounced, and Leimann was leaning back in his chair, dozing, with mouth half open. His wife, too, showed unmistakable signs of ennui, now that the scandal she loved no longer poured forth. Her features, a moment ago smooth and animated, now looked worn and aged, losing all their charm. Muller was still digesting audibly, and hence it seemed the proper moment for adjourning.

Amid unanimous a.s.surances that "this has been the most enjoyable evening this season," the leave-taking was finally effected, and the captain accompanied his last guests down the stairs, and returned after shooting the strong bolt at the house door.

As he turned off the gas in the drawing-room, he said to Frau Clara: "Quite interesting, this evening! These are two gentlemen we shall have to be on our guard against."

CHAPTER II

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CASINO DANCE

"Corporal Meyer! Have all this cleared out of the stable! Instantly!