The Song of Songs. Hermann Sudermann
But Lilly showed her the guardian's letter, and she yielded.
Lilly had not seen her guardian since the day, a year and a half before, when she had left the hospital tottering from weakness. Timidity had prevented her from availing herself of his invitation to visit him again. Besides, there had been no occasion to. Nobody had inquired for her. From time to time a tall, dry man, whom she recognised as Mr. Pieper's managing clerk, had called on Mrs. Asmussen and held a short conversation with her. This was the one sign that the man to whose protection Lilly had been consigned thought of her.
"Mr. Pieper says, will you please walk in," said the clerk.
The prominent lawyer, as on the previous occasion, was sitting behind his desk. When Lilly entered, he raised his head, and inspected her a few moments in silence. Then he smiled and rubbed his shining pate, and said in a long drawl:
"U—m—m! So—o—o!"
His eyes glided over her body as over a piece of goods for sale.
Lilly, whose respect for the man rendered her breathless, made a gesture which was half bow, half courtesy, and pulled at the short sleeves of her overcoat.
"Now I understand," continued Mr. Pieper. "You have developed in a way, my child, which in a measure excuses all sorts of masculine absurdities, even if it does not justify them—the masculine intellect is here to suppress all ebullitions. I forgot my manners—good morning, Miss Czepanek."
He rose and held out his cold, spongy hand, which under pressure felt as limp as if it were boneless.
"Oh, do please show me your gloves," he said.
Lilly started like a guilty thing, drew her elbows back, blushed and stammered:
"I was just going to buy a new pair."
"Don't!" he rejoined, smacking his lips with gusto. "Grey rags like these arouse emotion. Your cloak arouses emotion, too. Your clothes make a piquant contrast to your general appearance. Lovers of such naïve, sentimental things are easily moved by them to lyric outbursts, even if lyricism is not their forte."
He laid his arm in hers with a confidential manner, and led her to a heavily upholstered settee.
"Be seated in this chair of torture," he said, "though to-day we're not going to extract even a tooth. Taking everything into consideration, you have done well for yourself. I am content with you, my child."
He stroked his straw-coloured beard complacently, and grinned like a trickster after the performance of a particularly artful dodge. "When do you think the wedding will take place?"
"Why, there has not been—an engagement—yet," stammered Lilly.
"Well, there won't be what is called a real engagement—sending out notices and receiving visits, and so on. As little stir as possible, Miss Czepanek, as little stir as possible. That's my advice. In the delicate situation in which we find ourselves, contrary influences are always to be feared."
"I haven't said 'yes' yet," Lilly ventured to interject.
This amused him immensely.
"Who'd have thought it! A mock refusal! Who'd have thought it! I didn't take you for so good a business woman, Miss Czepanek."
"I am at a loss as to your meaning," said Lilly, who without fully realising why, was growing hot with indignation.
He put one hand to his hip, and continued to be amused.
"Well, well, that's all very fine and practical. But you can't carry such jokes too far. Let me arrange matters. I have some knowledge of these affairs, though, I admit, so important a case has never come to me before. I will endeavour to hasten the wedding as much as possible—for the reasons I have already mentioned. I will also ask for all possible secrecy, at least until his resignation has been accepted. Then nothing need stand in the way of securing the banns, since getting an adequate trousseau need concern us in only a lesser degree. As for your conduct, my dear child, I advise you for the present to remain as undecided, as maidenly, as fresh as possible. The only change I suggest is to use better soap. Everything else may continue to be just as it is. Perhaps you will have to be placed with another family. In that case it will be necessary, of course, to get an outfit, for which the sum realised from the sale of your mother's effects, amounting to—one moment, please." He opened a large account book lying on a rack next to his desk, "amounting to—A, B, C, Czepanek—amounting to one hundred and thirty-six marks and seventy-five pfennig, will come in very handy. Æsthetic enjoyment of the circumstances leads me to place my own purse also at your disposal. Well, so much for the time preceding the wedding! As to the incomparably more important time following, I should not like you to leave my office before I had given you a few delicate hints, although unfortunately, I must deny myself the pleasure of—"
He paused a moment, and rubbed his hands, while an epicurean, satyr's smile widened his broad face.
"The pleasure of taking a mother's place and giving you the advice with which a mother usually sends off a bride."
This time Lilly understood him, and her hot shame seemed to spread a red mist before her eyes.
"You may trust me implicitly in such matters as a will, life insurance, and alimony in case of divorce, provided, of course, you are the innocent party—or even, in a sense, a bit guilty. You were not placed in my keeping for nothing. However, there is one circumstance—which circumstance has to be taken most frequently into consideration in marriages like yours—one circumstance in which my professional skill, I am sorry to say, cannot provide you with adequate security. As to that, you must keep your eyes wide open for yourself. We human beings have been put in this world, my child, to do what gives us pleasure. Whoever says the reverse steals the sun from your heaven. But I warn you of three things: first, exchange no superfluous glances; second, demand no superfluous rendering of accounts; third, make no superfluous confessions. You cannot fully comprehend this yet—"
As a matter of fact Lilly comprehended not a single word.
"But when the occasion arises, think of what I've said. The recollection may prove useful. And—here's something very important—do you love jewels?"
"I cannot say I have ever seen any."
"Well, in the jeweler's window at the Altmarkt?"
"We were always forbidden to stand in front of shop windows."
Mr. Pieper laughed his vilest laugh.
"I advise you when you are out walking with your husband to stand in front of every shop window. Such little attentions may seldom be reclaimed. Pay special regard to pearls. In that way you will lay by a little reserve which will stand you in mighty good stead in your hour of need—and your hour of need will come, you may be sure it will."
Lilly nodded her head and thought:
"I will never, never, do that."
Mr. Pieper stroked his shining bald spot several times with his plump, white hand, and continued:
"Well, what else have I to say to you? I have a good deal more advice to give, but I fear not being understood. Just one thing, for the first few months. Marriage, no matter what sort of marriage, causes a peculiar derangement of the nervous system in natures like yours. Should you feel an inclination to cry, take a bromide. In general, take plenty of bromides—whether in case of great love, or—hm—great aversion. At certain times pull a cap over your head, so that you see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing, and, as it were, shunt yourself off from what goes on around you, yourself, your volition, and your feelings. The close atmosphere of the chamber which will at first envelope you will gradually evaporate—in this case probably at the end of a few months. Then you will breathe fresh air again, and instead of a tester, you will once more see the heaven of your maiden days. But, whatever happens, it is dangerous when one's nerves are overstimulated, to direct one's fancy too much upon the immediate environment and seek the necessary compensation that very instant. Turn from what is