Part 2 (1/2)
The bedroom was small and contained nothing but a bra.s.s bedstead, a walnut looking-gla.s.s wardrobe, a walnut table and two chairs. There was not a single object lying about. The pillows on the bed showed just the faintest impress of Paul's head; the bed-clothes he had thrown well back, when he got up, very neatly, as though to avoid creasing them.
Gerrit heard the ripple of water in the dressing-room. It was as if Paul were squeezing out the sponge with exquisite precaution, so as not to splash a single drop outside his tub. The bath lasted a long time. Then all was silence.
”Can't you hurry a bit?” cried Gerrit, impatiently.
”All right,” Paul called back, in placid tones.
”What are you up to? I don't hear you moving.”
”I'm doing my feet.”
”My dear fellow, can't you get on a bit faster? Or shall I go on?”
”No, no, I wouldn't miss going with you. But I must get dressed first, mustn't I?”
”But can't you make haste about it?”
”Very well, I'll hurry.”
There came a few sharp, ticking sounds as of scissors and nail-files that were being put down on the ringing marble. Gerrit breathed again.
But, when everything became silent once more, Gerrit, after an interval, cried:
”Paul!”
”Yes?”
”Will you soon be ready now?”
”Yes, yes, but don't be impatient. I'm shaving. You wouldn't have me cut myself?”
”No, of course not. But we must look sharp: you don't know what sort of state Ernst may be in.”
Paul did not answer; and Gerrit heard nothing more, except the swish of the rain. He heaved a deep sigh, moved about restlessly, stretching out his long legs. After some minutes, which seemed hours to Gerrit, Paul opened the door, but closed it again at once:
”Gerrit, will you please shut the window!” he cried, angrily.
Gerrit fastened the window; the rain no longer pattered into the room.
Paul now came in: he was in a sleeveless flannel vest and knitted-silk drawers; a pair of striped socks clung tightly to his ankles; his feet were in slippers.
”Good Lord, my dear chap, have you only got as far as that?” asked Gerrit, irritably.
Paul looked at him, a little superciliously:
”No doubt you fling yourself into your uniform in three minutes; but I can't do that. Since one _has_ to dress one's self and can't just shake one's feathers like a bird, I at least want to dress myself with care ... for otherwise I feel disgusting.”
”But do remember ... if Ernst....”
”Ernst won't go any madder than he is because I dress myself properly and keep you waiting a quarter of an hour longer. I can't dress any quicker.”
”Because you don't choose to!”