A Little Garrison. Fritz Oswald Bilse
must manage it,” he heard her say.
“Let us hope that the annual inspection will turn out well,” replied the colonel. “Last time our direct superiors were finding fault with your husband. It began in the stables, and I heard some talk about it.”
“Never mind all that, Colonel, my husband must be promoted to be major. I tell you plainly, if you drop him I shall—”
“Have no fears, my most gracious lady. I have given him a very brilliant report, though he doesn’t deserve it, as you know. But I shall do my best.”
“And you owe me your best, Colonel, as you very well know, for without me you would be to-day—”
Captain König came up.
“Will the Herr Colonel not accompany us next week on a wine-testing trip up the Moselle? Agricultural Counsellor von Konradi will make one of the party. Some exquisite growths are to be sold.”
“Certainly, my dear König. You know that I always join in such expeditions. And with you in particular I like to go, for your dinner has shown me once more that you own a faultless ‘wine tongue.’ ”
“Very flattering, Colonel. But I see you are still cigarless; everything is laid out in my room.”
The colonel stepped into the next room. Frau Kahle was flirting with Lieutenant Pommer in one corner, while several young men were doing that with the pretty hostess in the other corner. Just then First Lieutenant Leimann entered from the dining-room, and behind him his spouse, making a wry face. Her mien became sunny, however, when First Lieutenant Borgert stepped up to her and inquired with solicitude as to the cause of grief.
“Oh! The usual thing,” she snapped. “My husband has scolded me. You know his ungentlemanly ways. Always rude and offensive.”
“What was the trouble this time?”
“Merely the fact that I had excused my lateness at table by pleading unfinished letters, while he had urged a headache. I am tired of his eternal fault-finding.”
“That is valid reason for a divorce, my bewitching lady,” smiled Borgert. “Look for another husband if you are tired of the present one.”
She peered into his face inquiringly. “You don’t imagine how serious I am.”
“Ah, if that’s the case, my dear lady, there is no time like the present for planning a change. How, for instance, would I do for a substitute? Now, honor bright?” and he playfully fondled her plump little hand.
She took this just as smilingly. “Before I answer,” she said, coquettishly lowering her eyelids, “I must know what you have to offer me.”
“Let us sit down then and discuss this most alluring topic in its various bearings,” laughingly remarked he; and he led her to a divan, where they sat down side by side.
“Now, then, pay close attention, please,” continued he. “I offer you an elegant home, a neat turnout, a tolerably groomed nag, a villa on Lake Zurich, and a host of serving genii.”
“And who is to pay for it all?”
“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 König 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 unæsthetic 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 Königs 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 König 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 assuming the lion’s share of it, for she was decidedly talkative. Thus another hour passed; 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 König, 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