Part 4 (1/2)
As for Helene, to be sure she was of the ripe age of seventeen, and I had a sort of feeling that she would expect me to speak to her parents if I had anything definite to say. Till then the indefinite would do, and she made it quite easy to me to say all I wanted in that deliciously tentative way that marks our first attempts at disguising our feelings, whilst we are burning to proclaim them. It was all smooth sailing as long as I only had to minister to her creature wants, and I got as far as--
”O Fraulein, you must come out every Sunday; I do hope you will.”
But when I wanted to explain that this my wish was mainly owing to the fact that her hair started in most fascinating wavelets from her temples, there was a kind of barrier that arose to stop me, a halo that came in the way to form a magic circle into which I could not penetrate.
I wanted to say something about Helen of Troy, but I did not know what conclusion to draw from her history, and besides it would sound so foolish and priggish. So I said nothing about her, and by the time we got up to return home, I had not done much to improve the opportunity.
Our skates were once more firmly secured to our feet, and our young ladies comfortably settled in their Stuhlschlitten. We all started together, but soon we broke the ranks, each one taking his own time. I was in a mood to go ahead and struck out at full speed. In fact it was not long before I was das.h.i.+ng past another sledge at such a close-shaving pace that Helene gave a start and a little cry of ”Ach, don't, Herr Felix, please don't.” But I was reckless and only went at a madder pace. She was in my grip; I had her to myself right away from the other boys. How I triumphed over them all! What did they know about love? With them it was all giggling and window parade, and meeting on the Promenade, and doffing caps, and then taking a short cut, to meet again and have another chance of capdoffing. To be sure I had done all that kind of thing myself, but I was much too full of the present to think of the past.
She was mine; I held her in my--or at least my sledge held her in its--arms; it was the most glorious consummation of my wishes. I had carried her off into some new atmosphere, that did all the propelling automatically, some new element where weight counted for nothing. So on I went. Danger! Nonsense, there was none. I had got my treasure well in hand. Never mind if she fancied there was danger and was nervous; all the better if she was right. Was not I there to save and to protect her?
Such a swing round to get out of the way of that lumbering skater, hanging on to a sledge with a woman and two children. No, I certainly wouldn't dig my heel into the ice and pull up.
”Ach, don't, please don't, Herr Felix,” she cried; ”I'm sure there'll be an accident.”
”Don't be afraid, please don't, Fraulein Helene,” I rejoined; ”can't you trust yourself to me?”
”Oh yes, yes, but really, please, do stop, _dear_ Herr Felix.”
I slackened a little as I said, ”Why _do_ you always call me Herr? It does sound so formal.”
”Well, isn't that the right thing?” she answered. ”You only call children by their Christian names. Don't grown-up people always call one another Herr, or Frau, or Fraulein?”
”Not always; you don't call Julius, Herr Julius.”
”To be sure not, you silly; who is Julius? He is only my cousin.”
”That's just so unfair. He's a benighted a.s.s, who, I'll be bound, doesn't know the colour of your eyes, or which side the dimple is, and you treat him better than those who do--(a pause)--yes, who do--who do quite well.”
”Oh, I hate my dimple; my brothers are always worrying me about it.”
”I'll stop that, but you must drop the Herr.”
”No, I certainly _won't_. Do you want to be a child?”
”No, Helene, you are the child and I am the man; that I will show you”----
And with that I started off again viciously.
”Ach, Herr Felix--no, I mean Felix, I didn't say I wouldn't.”
Another diabolic spurt that made the sledge twist and quiver. She clutched its wooden sides for safety, and cried out to the young fiend behind:
”I never said I wouldn't, Felix; do please stop--Felix--dear Felix.”
This time my heel went deep into the ice, grinding out its order to pull up. In a moment I was round to the front, on my knees to pick up one of the rugs that had got loose and was dragging. The footstool was half off, and poor Helene's little feet were exposed to the biting frost.
They were just lumps of ice, and I felt very guilty, for it was all my zig-zagging and swinging about that had done it. ”Wait a minute, I know what will warm them in no time. My fur gloves are the very thing.”
And with that I popped one foot into each glove, and gave her the cord to hold that connected both, and that was usually slung round my neck.
”Oh, that is glorious!” she said, as the heat from _my_ gloves, my heat, pa.s.sed into her veins. ”You are too kind, dear Mr.... I mean, my dear Felix. But you will want them yourself. You must take them back.”
”Nonsense,” I answered, as I tightened the gloves round her feet and tucked her up with the rug that had kindly played truant.