Part 7 (1/2)

As Gahler was arranging the washhand stand, he remarked: ”The count had lots of little boxes and bottles, with real silver tops.”

And when he fetched Reimers some sandwiches and a gla.s.s of beer for lunch from the kitchen on the ground floor, he informed his master, ”The count had his own kitchen, and used to drink Burgundy at lunch.”

And here another result of his training in the Vocking household came to light. In a few moments the table was covered with a clean cloth, with knife, fork, and spoon neatly in place; and it was certainly not the rough maid down below in the simple kitchen to whom it had occurred to decorate the dish so prettily with parsley and radishes. The meal looked far more appetising than usual, and this was Gahler's work.

”Where did you get the radishes from?” Reimers asked.

”The cook gave them to me, sir,” his servant replied.

”So you are at it again, making yourself agreeable?”

This time Gahler was not in the least confused, but replied frankly, ”I beg your pardon, sir; the cook is very old and very fat, I----”

That evening, in the mess-house, the officers, both his seniors in rank and those of his own age, vied with each other in pleasant speeches.

But it ended just as it had done a year before; when all had greeted him, he was left standing alone in the doorway of the reading-room.

His only friend, Guntz, was still in Berlin, and the officers chatted together in the other rooms of the mess-house, standing in groups which in almost every case denoted circles of friends. There was hardly any change in the composition of these circles, which was usually due to similar length of service, but in certain cases they were held together by some other bond. There was the Keyl-Moller group of two senior-lieutenants and a lieutenant, who were brothers-in-law in a double sense, two Keyls having married two Fraulein Mollers, and a Moller a Fraulein Keyl. There was also the trio of musical officers, one of whom sang and played the violin and also the French horn, while the second was an excellent pianist, and the third only whistled, but in a most artistic manner. Then, finally, there was the philosophic group, to which little Lieutenant Dr. von Froben gave the tone. He had taken his doctor's degree in jurisprudence at Heidelberg, and had recently become an officer, as during his year of military service he had lost all taste for legal science. He bore his academic honours with that dignity which often accompanies the unusual; he was considered extremely up-to-date, and at times rather extravagant in his opinions.

Among his friends were two officers still very young, one of whom was always reading Prevost and Maupa.s.sant; and the other blus.h.i.+ngly acknowledged himself to be the author of an ode, printed in a daily newspaper, welcoming the troops just returned from China, among whom had been Captain Madelung of the regiment.

Everything at the mess-house seemed to be just as of old; it seemed to Reimers as if he had not been away for a day. He looked around him: all were as before, the elder men, with thick moustaches and hair growing thin in places, with the cares of a future command already on the brow; those of his own age, easy-going and a.s.suming nonchalant airs; and the youngest of all very spick and span and extremely correct. Just as of old the three brothers-in-law stood close together (two of them had in the meantime become fathers, and the wife of Keyl II., _nee_ Moller, was in an interesting condition), and chatted about their various uncles and aunts. As of yore, the singing, violin and horn-playing Manitius was at the piano, turning over the leaves of a pianoforte arrangement of the ”Trompeter von Sakkingen.” And again, as of old, the little red-haired Dr. von Froben held forth learnedly to every one who would listen. There were only two new men who had entered the regiment during his illness, and had just got their commissions as lieutenants.

One of them, Landsberg, had introduced himself to Reimers as belonging to his battery.

Reimers was not much taken with him. This youth, with his somewhat vacant expression, hair glossy with pomade, and single eye-gla.s.s squeezed into his eye, was too artificial and dandified to suit his taste. But he seemed somehow to be an object of interest to Landsberg, though the latter was evidently shy of addressing his elder comrade.

Reimers thought he could guess what was coming. No doubt it was again some question about his experiences in the war, of the kind he had already answered twenty times this evening in a more or less evasive fas.h.i.+on. This curiosity did not offend him, for such questions must be in every officer's mind, and especially in that of one who was fresh to the soldier's calling.

Sure enough Landsberg came up. He began rather slowly. ”Excuse me, may I ask you a question?”

”Certainly, I shall be most happy,” answered Reimers.

”Do tell me,” Landsberg proceeded hesitatingly, ”I would like so much--in fact, the shape of your boots pleases me immensely; they are awfully smart, and I--in fact, you would confer a tremendous favour on me if you would give me the address of your bootmaker.”

Reimers considered for a moment, then replied coldly: ”I bought these boots in pa.s.sing through Berlin.”

”Just what I expected! They do look awfully smart, really! And do you remember the address of the shop?”

”No.”

”What a pity! But, if you don't mind, I will send my servant to you to copy it off the lining. May I?”

Again Reimers was silent for a moment, then he said: ”I have no objection, if you think it important.”

Landsberg brought his heels together with a click, bowed, and murmured: ”You are very kind; I shall certainly do so.”

Then he moved away with, ”Thank you so much.”

Reimers turned away. He suddenly found the room too hot, and he walked up and down for a time in the cooler air of the vestibule. All the doors were open. In the mess-room the staff-officers and the captains were standing near the table, which was already laid. It was a few minutes before half-past seven. Only the colonel had not come yet.

Andreae, the senior staff-surgeon, gave Reimers a friendly nod through the doorway. Reimers was his show patient. The specialist had shrugged his shoulders, but he, Andreae, had not thrown up the sponge. The thing was in reality quite simple. It only needed, like other military affairs, initiative. The right diagnosis must be made as promptly as possible, and the right treatment must follow without delay. Then all went well, as in this case--unless, indeed, something went wrong. Yes, indeed, this patient was a triumph which should finally reduce to silence those civilian colleagues of his who considered a military surgeon competent at most to deal with venereal diseases and broken bones.