# The Patrioteer/Chapter 2

II
"I have just met the Emperor," he began at once.
"The Emperor?" she asked abstractedly. With large, unaccustomed gestures he began to pour out the emotions which were choking him. Our magnificent young Emperor, all alone in the midst of a mob of revolutionaries! They had smashed up a cafe, and Diederich himself had been in it! He had fought bloody fights Unter den Linden for his Emperor! They ought to have turned machine guns on them!
"I suppose the people are hungry," said Agnes gravely. "They, too, are human beings."
"Do you call them human?" Diederich rolled his eyes indignantly. "They are the domestic enemy, that's what they are!" But he grew a little calmer when he saw Agnes start again with fear.
"No doubt it amuses you to find all the streets barred on account of that mob."
No, that was most inconvenient for Agnes. She had had some errands in the city, but when she wanted to go back to Bliicherstrasse there were no more buses running, and she could not get through anywhere. She had been pushed back to the Tiergarten. It was cold and wet; her father would be anxious; what was she to do? Diederich assured her that he would make it all right. They continued their way ​together. All of a sudden he felt tongue-tied and kept looking about as if he had lost his way. They were alone amongst the leafless trees and the wet, withered foliage. Where was all the manly rapture which had previously filled him? Diederich felt embarrassed, as he had been during that last walk with Agnes, when Mahlmann had warned him, and he had jumped on a bus, torn himself away and disappeared. Agnes was just saying: "It is a very, very long time since you came to see us. Didn't papa write to you?" Somewhat confused, Diederich explained that his own father had died. Now Agnes hastened to express her sympathy, then she went on to ask why he had suddenly disappeared three years ago.
"Isn't that so? It is nearly three years now."
Diederich recovered his self-possession and explained that his student life had taken up all his time, that it was a jolly strenuous business. "And then I had to do my military service."
"Oh!"—Agnes stared at him. "What a great man you have become! And now I suppose you have got your doctor's degree?"
"That will come very soon now."
He gazed discontentedly in front of him. The scars on his face, his broad shoulders, all the signs of his well-earned manliness—were these nothing to her? Did she not even notice them?
"But what about you?" he said suddenly. A faint blush suffused her thin, pale face and even the bridge of her small, aquiline nose, with its freckles.
"Yes, sometimes I don't feel very well, but I'll be all right again."
Diederich expressed his regrets.
"Of course I meant to say that you have become prettier"—and he looked at her red hair which escaped from under her hat, and seemed thicker than formerly because her face had become so thin. He was reminded of his former ​humiliations and of how different things were now. Defiantly he asked: "How is Herr Mahlmann?"
Agnes assumed an air of contempt. "Do you still remember him? If I were to see him again, I should not be particularly pleased."
"Really? But he has a patent office and could very easily marry."
"Well, what of it?"
"But you used to be greatly interested in him."
"What makes you think that?"
"He was always giving you presents."
"I would have preferred not to take them, but then—" she looked down at the ground, at the wet fallen leaves—"then I could not have accepted your presents." She was frightened and said nothing more. Diederich felt that something serious had happened and was silent also.
"They were not worth talking about," he said finally, "a few flowers." And, with returning indignation: "Mahlmann even gave you a bracelet."
"I never wear it," said Agnes. His heart began to beat violently as he managed to say: "And if I had given it to you?"
Silence. He held his breath. Softly he heard her whisper: "In that case, yes."
Then they walked on more quickly and without speaking a word. They came to the Brandenburger Tor, saw that Unter den Linden was full of police and hurried past it, turning into Dorotheenstrasse. Here there were few people about. Diederich slowed their pace and began to laugh.
"It is really very funny. Every present Mahlmann gave you was paid for with my money. I was still a greenhorn and he took everything from me."
He smiled in a superior way, and said that was ancient history, youthful follies.
"No, no," she said, quite disturbed.
Now, he said, the principal thing was: how was she to get home? They could not go any further this way either, and there were no more buses to be seen. "I am yery sorry, but you will have to put up with my society a little longer. In any case, I live just near here. You could come up to my apartment, at least you would be dry there. But, of course, a young lady can't do such a thing."
She still had that beseeching look of hers. "You are too kind," said she, breathlessly. "You are so noble." And as they entered the house, she added: "I know I can trust you, can't I?"
"I know what I owe to the honour of my corps," Diederich declared.
They had to pass the kitchen, but there was no one in it. "Won't you take off your things until you go out again?" said Diederich graciously. He stood there without looking at Agnes, and while she was taking off her hat he stood first on one foot and then on the other.
"I must go and find the landlady and get her to make some tea." He had turned towards the door, but started back, for Agnes had seized his hand and kissed it. "Agnes," he murmured, terribly frightened, and he put his arm around her shoulder to console her. Then she nestled against his. He pressed his lips to her hair, and pressed them fairly hard, because he felt that was the right thing to it. Under that pressure her whole being quivered and shook, as if she had been struck. Through her thin blouse her body felt warm and moist. Diederich felt hot. He kissed Agnes's neck, but suddenly her face was turned up to his, with her lips parted, her eyes half closed and an expression which he* had never seen before. It turned his head. "Agnes! Agnes! I love you," he cried, as if compelled by some deep emotion. She ​did not answer. Short, hot panting breaths came from her open mouth, and he felt that she was falling; as he carried her, she seemed to melt away.
She sat on the sofa and cried. "Don't be angry with me, Agnes," Diederich begged. Her eyes were wet as she looked at him. "I am crying with joy," said she. "I have waited so long for you."
"Why?" she asked, when he began to button her blouse,—"why do you cover me so soon? Do you no longer find me beautiful?"
He protested: "I am fully conscious of the responsibility I have undertaken."
"Responsibility?" Agnes queried. "Whose is it? I have loved you for three years, but you did not know it. It must have been our fate."
With his hands in his pockets Diederich was thinking that such is the fate of light-minded women. At the same time, he felt the need of hearing her repeat her protestations. "So I am really the only man you ever loved?"
"I saw that you did not believe me. It was terrible when I knew that you had stopped coming, and that everything was over. It was really awful. I wanted to write to you, to go and see you. I lost courage each time, because you might not want me any more. I was so run down that papa had to take me away."
"Where to?" asked Diederich, but Agnes did not answer. She drew him to her again. "Be good to me, I have no one but you!"
"Then you haven't got much," thought Diederich, embarrassed. Agnes appeared greatly diminished in his eyes, and lowered in his estimation, since he had proof that she loved him. He also said to himself that one could not believe everything a girl said who behaved like that.
"And Mahlmann?" he queried mockingly. "There must ​have been something between you and him— Oh, well, we'll say no more about it," he concluded, as she drew herself up, dumbfounded with horror. He tried to make things right again, saying he was still completely mastered by his joy.
She dressed herself very slowly. "Your father will not know at all what has happened to you," said Diederich. She merely shrugged her shoulders. When she was ready, and he had opened the door, she stood for a moment and looked back into the room with a long glance, full of fear.
"Perhaps," she said, as if talking to herself, "I shall never see this room again. I feel as if I were going to die to-night."
"Why do you say that?" asked Diederich aggrievedly. Instead of replying she clung to him again, her lips pressed to his, their two bodies so closely held together that they seemed but one. Diederich waited patiently. She broke away from him, opened her eyes and said: "You must not think that I expect anything from you. I love you and that is enough."
He offered to call a cab for her, but she preferred to walk. On the way he inquired after her family and other acquaintances. But by the time they had reached the Belle Alliance Platz he began to feel uneasy, and in rather muffled tones he said: "Of course you must not think that I want to evade my responsibility to you. But, you understand, for the moment I am not earning anything, and I must get fixed up and get into harness at the factory.…"
Agnes answered quietly and gratefully, as if a favour had been conferred upon her: "How nice it would be if I could become your wife later on."
When they turned into Blucherstrasse he stopped. Hesitatingly he suggested it would probably be better if he turned back.
"She is certainly a clever liar," thought Diederich. She added: "You are invited to dinner on Sunday, you must be sure to come."
This was too much for him, he started. "I must—? I am invited to—?" She smiled softly and shyly. "It cannot be avoided. If any one ever saw us— Do you not want me to come to you again?"
Oh, yes, he did. Nevertheless, she had to persuade him until he promised to put in an appearance. In front of her bouse, he said good-bye with a formal bow, and turned quickly away. "Women of that type," he thought, "are terribly subtle. I won't have too much to do with her." Meanwhile he noticed with reluctance that it was time to meet his friends for a drink. For some reason he was longing to be home. When he had shut the door of his room behind him he stood and stared into the darkness. Suddenly he raised his arms, turned his face upwards and breathed a long sigh: "Agnes!"
He felt entirely changed, as light as if he trod on air. "I am terribly happy," was his thought, and "never in my life again shall I experience anything so wonderful!" He was convinced that until then, until that moment, he had looked at things from a wrong angle, and had wrongly estimated them. Now his friends were drinking and giving themselves an air of importance. What did it matter about the Jews and the unemployed? Why should he hate them? Diederich even felt prepared to love them! Was it really he who had spent the day in a struggling mob of people whom he had regarded as enemies? They were human beings; Agnes was right. Was it really he who, for the sake of a few words, had beaten some body, had bragged, lied and foolishly over-exerted himself, and who had finally thrown himself, torn and stunned, in the mud before a gentleman on horseback, the Emperor, who had laughed at him? He recognised that, until Agnes came, his life had been helpless, poor and meaningless. Efforts ​which seemed those of another than himself, feelings which shamed him, and nobody whom he could love—until Agnes came! "Agnes! my sweet Agnes, you do not know how much I love you!" But she would have to know. He felt that he would never again be able to tell her so well as in this hour, and he wrote a letter. He wrote that he, too, had waited for her these three years, and that he had had no hope because she was too fine, too good, too beautiful for him; that he had said what he did about Mahlmann out of cowardice and spite, that she was a saint, and, now that she had condescended to him, he lay at her feet. "Lift me up, Agnes, I can be strong, I know I can, and I will dedicate my whole life to you!" He began to cry, pressing his face into the sofa cushion where her perfume still lingered, and sobbing like a child he fell asleep.
On Sunday when he rang at Göppel's it was Agnes herself who opened the door. "The girl seemed in no hurry to leave the kitchen range," said she; but her glance told the real reason. Not knowing what to say, Diederich allowed his eyes to wander to the silver bracelet which she rattled as if to draw his attention.
"Do you not recognise it?" Agnes whispered. He blushed. "The present from Mahlmann?"
"The present from you. This is the first time I have worn it." Suddenly he felt the warm pressure of her hand, then the door of the drawing-room opened. Herr Göppel turned to meet him: "Here is the man who deserted us!" But scarcely had he seen Diederich than his manner altered and he regretted his familiarity. "Really, Herr Hessling, I should hardly have known you again!" Diederich looked at Agnes as much as to say: "You see, he notices that I am no longer a callow youth."
"Everything is unchanged with you," Diederich observed and he greeted the sisters and brother-in-law of Herr Göppel. In reality he found them all appreciably older, especially Herr Göppel, who was not so lively, and whose cheeks were unhealthily fat. The children were bigger and some one seemed to be missing from the room. "Yes, indeed," concluded Herr Göppel, "time passes, but old friends always meet again."
"If you only knew in what circumstances," Diederich thought contemptuously as they went in to dinner. When the roast veal was brought on, it finally dawned upon him who used to sit opposite to him. It was the aunt who had so haughtily asked him what he was studying, and who did not know that chemistry and physics were two entirely different things. Agnes, who sat on his right, explained to him that this aunt had been dead for two years. Diederich murmured words of sympathy, but his private reflection was: "One more chatterbox the less." It seemed to him as if every one present had been punished and buffeted by fate, he alone had been ​raised in accordance with his merits. He swept Agnes from head to foot with a glance of possession.
As on the former occasion, they had to wait this time for the sweets. Agnes kept looking uneasily at the door and Diederich saw a shadow in her lovely blue eyes, as if something serious had happened. He suddenly felt the deepest sympathy for her and an immense tenderness. He rose and shouted through the door: "Marie! the custard!"
When he returned Herr Göppel drank to him. "You did the same thing before. Here you are like one of the family. Isn't that so, Agnes?" Agnes thanked Diederich with a glance which stirred his heart to the depths. He had to control himself to prevent tears from coming into his eyes. How kindly her relatives smiled at him. The brother-in-law clinked glasses with him. What good-hearted people! and Agnes, darling Agnes, loved him! He was unworthy of so much kindness! His conscience pricked him and he vaguely resolved to speak to Herr Göppel afterwards.
Unfortunately, after dinner Herr Göppel began again to talk about the riots. When we had at last shaken off the pressure of the Bismarckian jackboot there was no necessity to irritate the workers with flamboyant speeches. The young man (that was how Herr Göppel referred to the Emperor!) will talk until he has brought a revolution upon our heads. … Diederich found himself compelled to repudiate most sharply such fault-finding, on behalf of the young men who stood steadfast and true by their magnificent young Emperor. His Majesty himself had said: "I welcome heartily those who want to help me. I will smash those who oppose me." As he said this Diederich tried to flash his eyes. Herr Göppel declared that he would await events.
"In these difficult times," Diederich continued, "every one must stand forth in his true colours." He struck an attitude in front of the admiring Agnes.
"What do you mean by difficult times?" Herr Göppel asked. ​"The times are difficult only when we make life difficult for one another. I have always got on perfectly well with my workmen."
Diederich expressed his determination to introduce entirely different methods at home in his factory. There will be no room for social democrats, and on Sunday the people would have to go to church!—"So that is also included," said Herr Göppel. He could not expect such a thing from his people, when he himself went only on Good Friday. "Am I to fool them? Christianity is all right, but nobody believes any more all the stuff the parsons talk." Then Diederich's countenance assumed the most superior expression.
"My dear Herr Göppel, all I can say is this: what the powers that be, and especially my esteemed friend, Assessor von Barnim, consider it right to believe, I also believe—unconditionally. That's all I have to say."
The brother-in-law, who was a civil servant, suddenly took Diederich's side. Herr Göppel was already considerably excited when Agnes interrupted with coffee. "Well, how do you like my cigars?" Herr Göppel tapped Diederich's knee. "Don't you see, we are at one where human things are concerned." Diederich thought: "Especially as I am, so to speak, one of the family."
From sheer joy he seized her and kissed her, between the two doors, while immediately beside them the servant was clattering the dishes. She asked sadly: "Do you never think of what would happen to me if some one were to come now?" He was taken aback, and as a proof that she had forgiven him, he asked for another kiss. She gave it to him.
At three o'clock Diederich used to return to the laboratory from the cafe. Instead he was back in his room at two, and she did come before three o'clock. "Neither of us could wait! we love one another so much!" It was nicer, much nicer than the first time. No more tears nor fears, and the room was flooded with sunshine. Diederich loosened Agnes's hair in the sun and buried his face in it.
She stayed until it was almost too late to make the purchases which had served as an excuse at home. She had to run. Diederich, who ran with her, was greatly concerned lest any harm should come to her. But she laughed, looked rosy, and called him her bear. And so ended every day on which she came. They were always happy. Herr Göppel noticed that Agnes was looking better than ever and this made him feel younger. For that reason the Sundays were also jollier. They stayed on till evening, then punch was made. Diederich played Schubert or he and the brother-in-law sang students' songs while Agnes accompanied them. Sometimes these two glanced at each other and it seemed to them both that it was their happiness which was being celebrated.
It came about that in the laboratory the porter would come and inform him that a lady was waiting outside. He got up at once, blushing proudly under the knowing looks of his colleagues. Then they wandered off, went to the cafes and to the picture gallery. As Agnes was fond of pictures Diederich discovered that there were such things as exhibitions. Agnes loved to stand in front of a picture that pleased her, a picture of a tender, festive landscape from more beautiful ​countries, and with half-closed eyes to share her dreams with Diederich.
"If you look properly you'll see that it is not a frame, it is a gate with golden stairs and we are going down them and across the road ; we are bending back the hawthorn bushes and stepping into the boat. Don't you feel how it rocks? That's because we're trailing our hands in the water, it is so warm. Up there, on the hill, the white point, you know, is our house, that is our destination. Look, do you see?"
"Oh, yes," said Diederich with enthusiasm. He screwed up his eyes and saw everything that Agnes wished. He got so enthusiastic that he seized her hand to dry it. Then they sat in a corner and talked of the journeys they would make, of untroubled happiness in distant sunny lands, and of love without end. Diederich believed everything he said. At bottom he knew very well that he was destined to work and to lead a practical existence without much leisure for superfluities. But what he said here was true in a higher sense than everything that he knew. The real Diederich, the man he should have been, spoke the truth. But when they stood up to go Agnes was pale and seemed tired. Her lovely blue eyes had a brightness which made Diederich feel uncomfortable, and in a trembling whisper she asked: "Supposing our boat overturned?"
"Then I would rescue you!" replied Diederich with resolution.
"But it is far from the shore and the water is frightfully deep." And when he seemed powerless to make any suggestion: "We'd have to drown. Tell me, would you like to die with me?"
Diederich looked at her and shut his eyes. "Yes," he said with a sigh.
Afterwards he regretted having talked like that. He had noticed the reason why Agnes suddenly had to get into a cab and drive home. She was flushed and pale by turns and tried ​to hide how much she was coughing. Then Diederich regretted the. whole afternoon. Such things were unhealthy, led nowhere except to unpleasantness. His professor had begun to hear about the lady's visits. It wouldn't do for her to take him from his work whenever the whim seized her. He explained the whole matter to her patiently. "I suppose you are right," she said. "Normal people must have regular hours. But what if I must come to you now at half-past five when I feel inclined to love you most at four?"
He sensed a joke in this, perhaps even contempt, and was rude. He had no use for a sweetheart who wished to hinder him in his career. He had not counted on that. Then Agnes begged his pardon. She would be quite humble and would wait for him in his room. If he still had anything to do, he need have no consideration for her. Diederich was shamed by this, he softened and abandoned himself with Agnes in complaints against the world which was not made entirely for love. "Is there no alternative?" Agnes asked. "You have a little money and so have I. Why worry about making a position for yourself? We could be so happy together." Diederich agreed, but afterwards he cherished a grievance against her. He used to keep her waiting deliberately. He even declared that going to political meetings was a duty which took precedence over his meetings with Agnes. One evening in May, as he returned home late, he met a young man at the door in a volunteer's uniform, who looked at him in a hesitating manner. "Herr Diederich Hessling?"—"Oh, yes," Diederich stammered. "You are Herr Wolfgang Buck, aren't you?"
The youngest son of the great man of Netzig had at last decided to obey his father's orders and call on Diederich. The latter took him upstairs, as he could not think at once of an excuse to get rid of him, and there sat Agnes! On the landing he raised his voice so that she could hear him and hide. In fear and trembling he opened the door. There was ​nobody in the room, even her hat was not on the bed, but Diederich knew very well that she had been there a moment previously. He knew it by the chair which was not in its exact place. And he felt it in the air which seemed still to vibrate gently from the swish of her skirts. She must have gone into the little windowless room where his washstand was. He pushed a chair in front of it and with peevish embarassment grumbled about his landlady who hadn't cleaned out his room. Wolfgang Buck hinted that perhaps his visit was untimely. "Oh, no!" Diederich assured him, and he asked his visitor to be seated and got some cognac. Buck apologised for calling at such an unusual hour, but his military service left him no choice. "Oh, I quite understand that," said Diederich, and, in order to anticipate awkward questions, he began at once to explain that he had a year's service behind him, that he was delighted with the army, for it was the life. How lucky were those who could stay in it! He, unfortunately, was called by family duties. Buck smiled, a gentle, sceptical smile which irritated Diederich. "Well, of course, there were the officers, they, at least, were people with good manners."
"Do you frequent them?" Diederich asked with ironical intention. Buck explained simply that he was invited from time to time to the officers' mess. He shrugged his shoulders: "I go because I think it is useful to look at everything. On the other hand, I mix a good deal with socialists." He smiled again. "Sometimes I think I'd like to be a general, and sometimes a Labour leader. I am curious to know myself on which side of the fence I shall come down," he concluded, emptying his second glass of cognac. "What a disgusting person," thought Diederich. "And Agnes is in the dark room!" Then he said: "With your means it is open to you to get elected to the Reichstag or anything else you like. I am destined for practical work. Anyhow, I regard the Social Democrats as my enemies, for they are the enemies of the Emperor."
"Are you quite sure about that?" queried Buck. "I rather ​suspect the Emperor of having a secret affection for the Social Democrats. He himself would like to have become the chief Labour leader. But they wouldn't have him."
Diederich was frantic with indignation, saying it was an insult to His Majesty. But Buck was not in the least put out. "Don't you remember how he threatened Bismarck that he would withdraw military protection from the rich. In the beginning, at least, he had the same grudge against the rich as the workers, though, of course, for very different reasons, namely, because he cannot stand any one else having power."
Buck anticipated the protest which he read in Diederich's face. "Please don't imagine," he said with animation, "that I speak with any hostility. It is tenderness, rather, a sort of hostile tenderness, if you wish."
"I am afraid I don't understand," said Diederich.
"Well, you know, the sort of thing one feels for a person in whom one recognises one's own defects or, if you like, virtues. At all events, we young men are all like our Emperor nowadays, we want to realise our own personality, but we know very well that the future is to the masses. There will be no more Bismarcks and no more Lassalles. Probably it is the most gifted among us who would deny this to-day. He would certainly deny it. When power comes into the hands of such a multitude, it would be really suicidal not to exaggerate one's personal value. But in the depths of his soul he must certainly have his doubts about the part which he has arrogated to himself."
"The part?" Diederich asked, but Buck did not hear him.
"It is a rôle which can lead him very far, for it must appear a damned paradox in the world as it is to-day. The world expects nothing more from any individual than from its neighbours. The general level is important, not the exceptional, and least of all, great men."
"I beg your pardon!" cried Diederich, striking his chest. "And what about the German Empire? Should we have had ​that without great men? The Hohenzollerns are always great men." Buck screwed up his mouth in a melancholy and sceptical smile. "Then they had better look out for themselves and so had we. In his own sphere the Emperor is facing the same question as I. Shall I become a general and fashion my whole life in view of a war which, so far as we can see, will never happen? Or shall I become a more or less gifted Labour leader, while the people are at the stage where they can do without men of genius? Both would be romantic, and romance notoriously ends in bankruptcy." Buck drank two more glasses of cognac in succession.
"What, then, am I to do?"
"A drunkard," thought Diederich. He debated with, himself whether it was not his duty to pick a quarrel with Buck. But Buck was in uniform, and perhaps the noise would have frightened Agnes out of her hiding-place. Then, goodness knows what might happen! In any case he determined to make an exact note of Buck's remarks. Holding such opinions, did the man really believe that he could get on? Diderich remembered that in school Buck's German compositions had aroused in him a deep, if inexplicable, mistrust; they were too clever. "That's it," he thought, "he has remained the same, an intellectual, and so is the whole family." Old Buck's wife was a Jewess and had been an actress. After the event Diderich felt humiliated by the benevolent condescension of old Buck at his father's funeral. The son also humiliated him constantly and in all things: by his superior phrases, by his manners, by his intercourse with the officers. Was he a von Barnim? He was only from Netzig like Diederich himself. "I hate the whole lot of them!" From beneath his half-closed eyelids Diederich observed his fleshy face with its gently curved nose and moist, shining eyes, full of dreams. Buck rose: "Well, we'll meet again at home. I shall pass my examination next term, or the term after, and then what is there to do but be a lawyer in Netzig? And you?" he asked ​Diederich solemnly explained that he did not intend to waste his time and would finish his doctor's thesis by summer. Then he saw Buck to the door. "You are only a silly fool after all," he said to himself, "you didn't notice that I had a girl with me." He returned, pleased at his superiority to Buck, and to Agnes who had waited in the darkness and had not uttered a sound.
When he opened the door, however, she was leaning over a chair, her breast was heaving and with her handkerchief she was stifling her gasps. She looked at him with reddened eyes, and he saw that she had almost choked in there, and had cried—while he was sitting out here drinking and talking a lot of nonsense. His first impulse was one of immense remorse. She loved him! There she sat, loving him so much, that she bore everything! He was on the point of raising his arms and throwing himself before her, weeping and begging her pardon. He restrained himself just in time from fear of the scene and the sentimental mood which would follow, and would cost him more of his working time and would give her the upper hand. He would not give her that satisfaction. For, of course, she was exaggerating on purpose. So he kissed her hastily on the forehead and said: "Here already? I did not see you arriving at all." She gave a start, as if she were going to reply, but she remained silent. Whereupon he explained that some one had just gone out. "One of those young Jews trying to make himself important! Simply disgusting." Diederich rushed about the room. In order not to look at Agnes, he went quicker and quicker and talked with increasing violence. "Those people are our deadliest enemies! With their so-called refined education they paw everything which is sacred to us Germans! A damn Jew like that may consider himself fortunate when we put up with him. Let him swot his law books and keep his mouth shut. I don't care a rap for his high-brow smartness!" He screamed still louder, with the intention of hurting Agnes. As she did not ​answer, he tried a new line of attack. "It all comes because every one now finds me at home. On your account I am constantly obliged to hang around the place!"
Agnes replied timidly: "We have not seen one another for six days. On Sunday again, you didn't come. I am afraid you don't love me any more." He came to a standstill in front of her* Very condescendingly: "My dear child, I imagine it is hardly necessary for me to assure you that I love you. But it is quite another question whether I, therefore, wish to watch your aunts at their crochet every Sunday, and to talk politics with your father, who doesn't understand the slightest thing about it." Agnes bowed her head. "It used to be so nice. You got on so well with papa." Diederich turned his back on her and looked out of the window. That was just it: he was afraid of being on too good terms with Herr Göppel. He knew from his bookkeeper, old Sötbier, that Göppel's business was going down. His cellulose was no good, and Sötbier no longer gave him any orders. Clearly a son-in-law like Diederich would have suited him most beautifully. Diederich had the sensation of being involved with these people. With Agnes, too. He suspected her of working in conjunction with the old man. Indignantly he turned to her again. "Another thing, my dear child, let us be honest: what we two do is our affair, isn't it? So don't drag your father into it. The relations which exist between us must not be mixed up with family friendship. My moral sense demands that the two shall be kept entirely separate." A moment passed, then Agnes rose as if she at last understood. Her cheeks were crimson. She walked towards the door and Diederich caught up on her. "But I didn't mean it that way, Agnes. It was only because I had too much respect for you—and I shall really be able to come on Sunday." She let him talk, unmoved. "Now, do be pleasant again," he begged. "You haven't even taken off your hat." She did so. He asked her to sit down on the sofa and she obeyed. She ​kissed him, too, as he desired. But though her lips smiled and kissed, her eyes were staring and unresponsive. Suddenly she seized him in her arms; he was frightened, for he did not know if it was hate that moved her. But then he felt that she loved him more passionately than ever.
"To-day was really beautiful, wasn't it, my dear, sweet little Agnes?" Diederich asked, happy and contented. "Good-bye," said she, hastily seizing her bag and umbrella while he was still dressing himself.
"You're in a great hurry.—I suppose there is nothing more I can do for you?" She was already at the door, when suddenly she fell with her shoulders against the door post and did not move. "What's wrong?" When Diederich approached he saw that she was sobbing. He touched her. "Yes, what is the matter with you?" Then she began to cry loudly and convulsively. She did not stop. "Agnes, dear," said Diederich from time to time. "What has happened all of a sudden? We were so happy." He did not know what to do. "What have I done to you?" Between spasms of crying which half choked her, she managed to say: "I can't help it. Forgive me." He carried her to the sofa. When the crisis was over Agnes was ashamed. "Forgive me, it is not my fault."—"It is mine! "—"No, no. It is my nerves. I am sorry!"
Full of patience and sympathy he saw her to a cab. Look ing back on it, however, the affair seemed to him half playacting, and one of the tricks which would catch him in the end. He could not get rid of the feeling that plans were being laid against his freedom and his future. He defended himself with rude behaviour, insistence upon his manly independence, and by his coldness whenever her mood was sentimental. On Sundays at Göppel's he was on his guard as if in an enemy's country; he was correct and unapproachable. When would his research work be finished, they would ask. He might find a solution the next day or in two years, he himself didn't know. He stressed the fact that in the future he ​would be financially dependent upon his mother. For a long time yet he would have no time for anything but business. When Herr Göppel reminded him of the ideal values in life, Diederich repelled him sharply. "Only yesterday I sold my Schiller. My head is screwed on the right way and I can't be fooled." Whenever, after such speeches, he felt the silent reproach of Agnes's glance upon him, he would feel for a moment as if some one else had spoken and he was living in a fog, speaking falsely and acting against his own will. But that feeling passed off.
Whenever he ordered her, Agnes came, and she left whenever it was time for him to go off to work or to drink. She no longer enticed him to day-dreams in front of pictures after he had once stopped in front of a sausage shop, and had declared that this spectacle was for him the highest form of artistic enjoyment. At last it occurred even to him that they saw one another very seldom. He reproached her because she no longer insisted on coming more often. "You used to be quite different." "I must wait," said she. "Wait for what?" "Until you are again like you used to be. Oh, I am quite certain that you will be."
He remained silent for fear of having explanations. Nevertheless, things came about as she had predicted. His work was finally finished and accepted. He had still to pass only an unimportant oral examination, and he was in the exalted frame of mind of one who has passed a turning point. When Agnes came with her congratulations and some roses he burst into tears and vowed that he would love her always and for ever. She announced that Herr Göppel was just starting on a business trip for several days. "And the weather is so perfectly lovely just now. …" Diederich at once accepted the hint. "We have never had such an opportunity. We must make use of it." They decided to go out into the country. Agnes knew of a place called Mittenwalde; it must be lonely there and as romantic as the name. "We shall be together ​all day long!"—"And the whole night, too," added Diederich.
Even the station from which they started was out of the way and the train was small and old-fashioned. They had the carriage to themselves. The day slowly darkened, the guard lit a dim lamp for them, and held close in one another's arms they gazed silently with wide-open eyes at the flat, monotonous fields. Oh, to go out there on foot, far away, and lose oneself in the kindly darkness! They almost got out at a little village with a handful of houses. The jovial guard held them back, asking if they wanted to sleep under a hayrick all night. Then they reached their destination. The inn had a great yard, a spacious dining-room lit with oil lamps hanging from the rafters, and a genial innkeeper, who called Agnes "gnädige Frau," with a sly, Slavic smile, full of secret sympathy and understanding. After eating they would have liked to go upstairs at once, but they did not dare to do so and obediently turned the pages of the magazines which their host laid before them. As soon as he had turned his back, they exchanged a glance and in the twinkling of an eye they were on the stairs. The lamp had not yet been lit in the room and the door was still open, but they already lay in one another's arms.
Very early in the morning the sun streamed into the room. Down in the yard the fowl were pecking and fluttering on the table in front of the summer house. "Let us have breakfast there!" They went downstairs. How delightfully warm it was. A delicious smell of hay came from the barn. Coffee and bread tasted fresher to them than usual. Their hearts were so free and life stood open before them. They wanted to walk for hours and the innkeeper had to tell them the names of the streets and villages. They joyfully praised his house and his beds. He assumed they were on their honeymoon. "Quite right," they said, laughing heartily.
The cobblestones of the main street stretched themselves upwards and were gaily coloured by the summer sun. The ​houses were uneven, crooked, and so small that the roads between them gave the impression of a field dotted with stones. The bell in the general dealer's shop tinkled for a long time after the strangers had left. A few people, dressed in semifashionable style, glided amongst the shadows and turned to look after Agnes and Diederich, who felt proud, for they were the most elegantly dressed in the place. Agnes discovered the milliner's shop with the hats of the fine ladies. "It is incredible! Those were the fashion in Berlin three years ago!" Then they went through a shaky looking gateway out into the country. The mowers were at work in the fields. The sky was blue and oppressive, and the swallows swam in the heavens as if in stagnant water. The peasants' cottages in the distance were bathed in a warm haze, and a wood stood out darkly with blue pathways. Agnes and Diederich took one another's hands and without premeditation they began to sing a song for wandering children, which they remembered from their school-days. Diederich assumed a deep voice to excite Agnes's admiration. When they could not remember any more their faces met and they kissed as they walked.
"Now I can see properly how pretty you are," said Diederich, looking tenderly into her rosy face, her bright eyes glittering like stars beneath their fair lashes. "Summer weather always agrees with me," replied Agnes with a deep breath which filled out her lungs. She looked slim as she walked along, with slender hips, her blue scarf floating behind her. It was too warm for Diederich, who first took off his coat, then his waistcoat, and finally admitted that he would have to walk in the shade. They found shelter along the edge of a field in which the corn was still standing, and under an acacia which was in bloom, Agnes sat down and laid Diederich's head in her lap. They played for a while with each other and joked: suddenly she noticed that he had fallen asleep.
He woke up, looked about him, and when he saw Agnes's ​face he beamed with delight. "Dearest," said she, "what a good-natured, silly old face you have."—"Come now, I can't have slept more than five minutes. What, really, have I been asleep for an hour? Were you bored?" But she was more astonished than he that the time had passed so quickly. He withdrew his head from beneath the hand which she had laid upon his hair when he fell asleep.
They went back amongst the fields. In one place a dark mass was lying. When they peered through the stalks, they saw it was an old man in a fur cap, rusty coat and corduroy trousers also of reddish hue. He was crouching on his haunches and had twisted his beard round his knees. They bent down lower to get a better look at him. Then they noticed that he had been gazing at them for some time with dark, glowing eyes like live coals. In spite of themselves they hastened on, and in the glances which they exchanged they read the fear of frightened children. They looked about them: they were in a vast strange land, away in the distance behind them the little town looked unfamiliar as it slept in the sun, and by the sky it seemed as if they had been travelling day and night.
What an adventure! Lunch was in the summer house of the inn, with the sun, the fowl, and the open kitchen window through which the plates were passed out to Agnes! Where was the bourgeois orderliness of Bliicherstrasse, where Diederich's hereditary Kneiptisch? "I will never leave here," declared Diederich, "and I won't let you leave." "Why should we?" she answered. "I will write to father and have the letter sent to him by my married friend in Kustrin. Then he will think I am there."
Later they went out for a walk again in the other direction, where the water ran and the sails of three windmills stood out on the horizon. A boat lay on the canal, and they hired it and drifted along. A swan came towards them, and their boat and the swan glided past one another noiselessly, ​coming to a stop of its own accord beneath the overhanging bushes. Suddenly Agnes asked about Diederich's mother and sisters. He said that they had always been good to him and that he loved them. He was going to have his sisters' photographs sent. They had grown up into pretty girls, or perhaps not pretty, but so nice and gentle. One of them, Emma, read poetry like Agnes. Diederich was going to look after them both and get them married. But he would keep his mother with him, for he owed to her all that was best in his life until Agnes came. He told her about the twilight hours, the fairy tales beneath the Christmas trees of his childhood, and even about the prayers which he said "from his heart." Agnes listened, sunk in thought. At last she sighed: "I would like to meet your mother. I never knew my own." Full of pity he kissed her respectfully and with an obscure sense of uneasy conscience. He felt that he had now to say but one word which would console her for ever. But he could not speak, and put it off. Agnes gave him a profound look. "I know," she said slowly, "but you are good at heart, only sometimes you must act differently." Her words made him start. Then she concluded by way of apology: "I am not afraid of you to-day.
"Are you afraid at other times?" he questioned remorsefully.
"I am always afraid when other people are jolly and in the highest spirits. Formerly with my friends I often used to feel as if I could not keep pace with them, and that they would notice it and despise me. But they did not notice anything. When I was a child I had a doll with big, blue glass eyes, and when my mother died I had to sit in the next room with my doll. It kept staring at me with its hard, wide-open eyes that seemed to say to me: 'Your mother is dead. Now every one will look at you as I do.' I would like to have laid it on its back so that the eyes would close. But I didn't ​dare to do so. Could I have laid the people too on their backs? They all have such eyes and sometimes—" She hid her face on his breast, "Even you have."
He felt a lump in his throat. His hand sought her neck and his voice trembled. "Agnes! my sweetest, you cannot know how much I love you. … I was afraid of you, indeed I was! For three whole years I longed for you, but you were too beautiful for me, too fine, too good. …" His heart melted and he told her everything that he had written to her after her first visit, in the letter which still lay in his desk. She had raised herself and was listening to him enchanted, with her lips parted. Softly she rejoiced: "I knew it, you are like that, you are like me!"
"We belong to one another," said Diederich, pressing her to him, but he was frightened by his own words. "Now," he thought, "she will expect me to speak!" He wanted to do so, but felt powerless. The pressure of his arms around her back grew weaker. … She made a movement and he knew that she no longer expected him to speak. They drew away from one another with averted faces. Suddenly Diederich buried his face in his hands and sobbed. She did not ask why, but soothingly stroked his hair. That lasted quite a while.
Speaking over his head into space, Agnes said: "Did I ever say that I thought it would last? It must end badly because it has been so beautiful." He broke out in desperation. "But it is not over!"
"Do you believe in luck?" she asked.
"Never again, if I lose you!"
She murmured: "You will go away out into the world and forget me."
"I would rather die!"—and he drew her closer. She whispered against his cheek:
"Look how wide the water is here, like a lake. Our boat has got loose of itself and has led us far out. Do you still ​remember that picture? and that lake on which we once sailed in a dream? Whither, I wonder?" And more softly: "Whither are we drifting?"
He did not answer any more. Wrapped in one another's arms, and lips pressed against lips, they sank backwards deeper and deeper over the water. Was he dragging her? Was she pushing him? Never had they been so united. Now, Diederich felt, it was right. He had not been noble enough, not trustful enough, not brave enough, to live with Agnes. Now he had risen to her, now all was well.
Suddenly came a bump and they started up. Diederich's movement was so violent that Agnes had fallen from his arms to the bottom of the boat. He drew his hand across his forehead. "What on earth was that?" Shivering with fright he looked away from her, as if he had been insulted. "One should not be so careless in a boat." He allowed her to get up by herself, seized the oars at once and rowed back. Agnes kept her face turned towards the shore. Once she ventured a glance at him, but he looked at her with such harsh, mistrustful eyes that she shuddered.
In the darkening twilight they walked faster and faster back along the high road. Towards the end they were almost running. It was not until it was so dark as to hide their faces that they spoke. Perhaps Herr Göppel was coming home early the next morning. Agnes had to get back. … As they arrived at the inn, the whistle of the train could be heard in the distance. "We can't even eat together again," cried Diederich, with forced regret. In a terrible fluster their things were got, the bill was paid and they were off. They had scarcely taken their seats when the train started. It was fortunate that it took them some time to get their breath and to talk over the hasty questions of the last quarter of an hour. They had nothing more to say, and there they sat alone under the dim light as if stunned by a great mishap. Was it that sombre country out there which had once enticed them and promised happiness? ​That must have been yesterday? It was now irrevocably past. Would the lights of the city never come to release them?
By the time they had arrived they had agreed that it was not worth while getting into the same cab. Diederich took the tram. With the merest glance and touch of the hands they separated.
"Phew!" exclaimed Diederich, when he was alone. "That has settled it." He said to himself: "It might just as well have gone wrong." Then, indignantly: "Such an hysterical person!" She herself would probably have clung to the boat. He would have taken a bath alone. She only hit on the trick because she wanted to be married at all costs! "Women are so impetuous and they are without restraints. We men cannot keep up with them. This time, by God, she led me an even worse dance than formerly with Mahlmann. Well, let it be a lesson to me for life. Never again!" With assured gait he betook himself to the Neo-Teutons. Henceforth he spent every evening there, and in the day time he ground for his oral examination, not at home, as a precaution, but in the laboratory. When he did come home he found it laborious to mount the stairs, and he had to admit that his heart was beating abnormally. Tremblingly he opened the door of his room—nothing. In the beginning, after it had become a little easier, he ended regularly by asking the landlady if any one had called. Nobody had called.
A fortnight later a letter came. He opened it without thinking, then he felt inclined to throw' it into the drawer of his writing table without reading it. He did so, but then took it out again and held it in front of his face at arm's length. His hasty and suspicious glance caught a line here and there. "I am so unhappy. …" "We've heard all that before," Diederich thought in reply. "I am afraid to come to you. …" "So much the better for you!" "It is dreadful to think we have become strangers to one another. …" "Well, you've grasped that much anyhow." "Forgive me for what has ​happened, if anything has happened. …" "Quite enough!" "I cannot go on living. …" "Are you beginning that all over again?" Finally he hurled the sheet of paper into the drawer with that other letter which he had filled with exaggerations during a night of madness, but which he had fortunately not posted.
A week later, as he was coming home late, he heard steps behind him which sounded peculiar. He turned round with a start and the figure stood still with raised hands stretched out empty before it. While he opened the street door and stepped in he could still see it standing in the shadow. He was afraid to turn on the light in the room. While she stood out there in the dark, looking up, he was ashamed to light up the room which had belonged to her. It was raining. How many hours had she been waiting? She was probably still there, waiting with her last hope. This was more than he could stand. He was tempted to open the window, but he refrained. Then he suddenly found himself on the stairs with the key of the street door in his hand. He had just enough will power to turn back. He shut his door and undressed. "Pull yourself together, old chap!" This time it would not be so easy to extricate oneself from the affair. No doubt the girl was to be pitied, but after all it was her doing. "Above all things, I must remember my duty to myself." The next morning, having slept badly, he even held it as a grievance against her that she had once more tried to make him deviate from his proper course. Now, of all times', when his examination was imminent! It was very like her to behave in this unconscionable fashion. That scene in the night, when she had seemed like a beggar in the rain, had transformed her into a suspicious and uncanny apparition. He regarded her as definitely fallen. "Never again, not on your life!" he assured himself, and he 'decided to change his lodgings for the short time which he still had to stay, "even at a pecuniary sacrifice." Fortunately, one of his colleagues was just looking for a room. Diederich ​lost nothing and moved at once far out onto the North Side. Shortly afterwards he passed his examination. The Neo-Teutons celebrated the occasion with a Frühschoppen which lasted until the evening. When he reached home, he was told that a gentleman was waiting in his room. "It must be Wiebel," thought Diederich, "coming to congratulate me." Then with swelling hope, "Perhaps it is Assessor von Barnim?" He opened the door and jumped back, for there stood Herr Göppel.
The latter was at a loss for words at first. "Well, well, why in evening dress?" he said, then with hesitation: "were you by any chance at our house?"
"No," replied Diederich, starting again in fear. "I have only been passing my doctor examination."
"My congratulations," said Göppel. Then Diederich managed to say: "How did you find out my address?" And the other replied, "certainly not from your former landlady, but there are other sources of information." Then they looked at one another. Göppel's voice had not been raised, but Diederich felt terrible threats in it. He had always refused to think about this catastrophe, and now it had happened. He would have to brace himself up.
"As a matter of fact," began Göppel, "I have come because Agnes is not at all well."
"Oh, really," said Diederich with an effort of frantic hypocrisy. "What's wrong with her?" Mr. Göppel wagged his head sorrowfully. "Her heart is bad, but, of course, it is only her nerves … of course," he repeated, after he had waited in vain, for Diederich to say something. "Now worry has driven her to melancholia and I would like to cheer her up. She is not allowed to go out. But won't you come and see us, tomorrow will be Sunday?"
"Saved!" thought Diederich. "He knows nothing." He was so pleased that he became quite diplomatic and scratched his head. "I had fully determined to do so, but now I am ​urgently required at home, our old manager is ill. I cannot even pay farewell calls on my professors, for I am leaving first thing in the morning."
Göppel laid his hand upon his knee. "You should think it over, Herr Hessling. Often one has duties to one's friends." He spoke slowly and his glance was so searching that Diederich's eyes could not meet it. "I only wish I could come," he stammered. Göppel replied: "You can. In fact, you can do everything that the present situation requires."
"What do you mean?" Diederich shivered inwardly. "You know very well, what I mean," said the father, and, pushing back his chair a little: "I hope you do not think that Agnes has sent me here. On the contrary, I had to promise her I would do nothing and leave her in peace. But then I began to think that it would be really too silly for us two to go on playing hide and seek with one another, seeing that we are friends, and that I knew your late lamented father, and that we have business connections and so forth."
Diederich thought: "These business connections are a thing of the past, my dear man." He steeled himself.
"I am not playing hide and seek with you, Herr Göppel."
"Oh, well, then everything is all right. I can easily understand, no young man, especially nowadays, wants to take the plunge into matrimony without going through a period of hesitation. But then the matter is not always so simple as in this case, is it? Our lines of business fit into one another, and if you wanted to extend your father's business Agnes's dowry would be very useful." In the next breath, he added while his glance faltered: "At this moment, it is true I can only put my hands on twelve thousand marks in cash, but you can have as much cellulose as you want."
"So, you see," thought Diederich, "and even the twelve thousand would have to be borrowed—that is, if you could raise a loan." … "You misunderstand me, Herr Göppel," he explained. "I am not thinking of marriage, that would require ​too much money." Herr Göppel laughed, but his eyes were full of anxiety as he said: "I can do more than that. …"
"It doesn't matter," said Diederich in a tone of dignified refusal.
Göppel became more and more bewildered.
"Well, then, what do you really want?"
"I? Nothing. I thought you wanted something, since you have called on me."
Göppel pulled himself together. "That won't do, my dear Hessling, after what has happened, especially as it has gone on for so long."
Diederich looked at the father up and down, and the corner of his mouth curled. "So, you knew about it, did you?"
"I was not certain," murmured Göppel. With great condescension Diederich retorted: "That would have been rather remarkable."
"I had every confidence in my daughter."
"That's where you were mistaken," said Diederich, determined to use every weapon in self-defence. Göppel's forehead flushed. "I also had confidence in you."
"In other words, you thought I was naive." Diederich stuck his hands in his trousers' pocket and leant back.
"No!" Göppel jumped up. "But I did not take you for the dirty cad that you are!"
Diederich stood up with an air of formal restraint. "Do you challenge me to a duel?" he asked. Göppel shouted, "No doubt that is what you'd like! To seduce the daughter and shoot the father. Then your honour would be satisfied."
"You understand nothing about honour." Diederich, in his turn became excited, "I did not seduce your daughter. I did what she wanted, and then I could not get rid of her. In this she takes after you." With great indignation: "How do I know that you were not in league with her from the beginning? This is a trap!"
Göppel's face looked as if he were going to shout still louder. ​He gave a sudden start, and in his ordinary tone, but with a voice that shook, he said: "We are becoming too heated, the subject is too important for that. I promised Agnes that I would remain quiet."
Diederich laughed derisively. "You see what a swindler you are, you said before that Agnes did not know you were here."
The father smiled apologetically. "In the end people can always agree in a good cause, isn't that so, my dear Hessling?"
But Diederich felt that it was dangerous to become amiable again.
"What the hell do you. mean by your 'dear Hessling'!" he yelled. "To you I am Doctor Hessling!"
"Of course," retorted Göppel stiff with rage. "I suppose this is the first time that you have been able to get yourself called Doctor. You may be proud of so auspicious an occasion." "Do you wish to make any insinuations against my honour as a gentleman?" Göppel made a gesture of dissent.
"I make no insinuations. I am simply wondering what we have done to you, my daughter and I. Must you really have so much money with your wife?"
Diederich felt that he was blushing, and he proceeded with all the more assurance.
"Since you insist upon my telling you: my moral sense forbids me to marry a girl who does not bring her maidenly purity as her marriage portion."
Göppel was obviously on the point of breaking out again, but his strength failed him, he could only just stifle a sob.
"If you had seen her misery this afternoon. She confessed to me because she could not stand it any longer. I believe she does not even love me any more, only you. I suppose it is natural, you are the first."
"How do I know that? Before me a gentleman named Mahlmann frequented your house." Göppel shrank as if he had received a blow on the chest. ​"Yes, how can you tell? A person who tells lies cannot be believed."
He continued: "Nobody can expect me to make such a woman the mother of my children. My sense of duty to society is too strong." With this, he turned round and, stooping over the trunk that stood open, he began to fill it with his things.
Behind him he could hear the father who was now really sobbing—and Diederich could not help feeling moved himself by the manly noble sentiments which he had expressed, by the unhappiness of Agnes and her father which his duty forbade him to alleviate, by the painful memory of his love and this tragic fate. … His heart almost stopped beating as he listened to Herr Göppel opening and closing the door, creeping along the passage, and as he heard the noise of the street door closing behind him. Now it was all over—then Diederich fell on his knees and wept passionately into his half-packed trunk. That evening he played Schubert.
That was a sufficient concession to sentiment. He must be strong. Diederich speculated as to whether Wiebel had ever become so sentimental. Even a common fellow like Mahlmann, without manners, had given Diederich a lesson in ruthless energy. It seemed to him almost unlikely that any of the others had still perhaps some soft spots left in them. He alone was so afflicted by the influence of his mother. A girl like Agnes, who was just as foolish as his mother, would have rendered him unfit for these difficult times. These difficult times, the phrase always reminded Diederich of Unter den Linden with its mob of unemployed, women and children, of want and fear and disorder—and all that quelled, tamed into cheering, by the power, the all-embracing superhuman power, massive and flashing, which seemed to place its hoofs upon those heads.