Part 19 (1/2)

”I can only feel sorry for Frau von Gropphusen.”

”And so do I. But I don't want her to hang on to you.”

”She does not hang on to me,” answered his wife simply.

But at this moment a subdued wailing was heard, and Klare instantly hastened from the room.

The men, left alone, dropped into reflection. Neither spoke for a while.

At last Reimers broke the silence.

”I think, Guntz, that you exaggerate a bit. Senseless and silly prejudices are not only to be found in military circles. Anyhow, there's no good in running your head against a brick wall.”

”True,” a.s.sented Guntz. ”But if a dung-cart were driven right under my nose, I should have to give it a shove.”

He resumed his perambulations of the room, and lapsed for a while into silence.

”Anyhow,” he began again, smiling contentedly, ”Frau Gropphusen may come to Klare for consolation if she likes to have her. I am sure my wife is proof against the hysterical bacillus. Eh?”

Before Reimers could answer, Klare returned, a little flushed. She bore the baby on a pillow, rocking him in her arms.

Guntz answered his own question.

”Yes, yes, she's proof,” he said.

Reimers was thoroughly happy in the Guntzes' society. The atmosphere of security and candour in which they lived influenced him unawares; it wrought as a useful antidote when his spirit was inclined to soar too high into the realms of the unsubstantial. He was much delighted to find that his friend shared his admiration for his honoured and beloved Falkenhein. Indeed, in this matter, the dry and reserved man sometimes outdid his young fellow-officer.

”There's a _man_!” he would say. ”Head and heart, eyes and mouth in the right places! A good fellow. In one word--a man!”

This word was the highest in Guntz's vocabulary. The opposite to it, until his marriage, had been woman. After marriage he naturally excepted Klare.

How sick he was of the way people went on in Berlin! He could hardly speak too strongly about the weaknesses of certain officers.

Reimers did not hold it necessary to be absolutely blind to the faults of one's superiors and comrades; still, he thought that his friend went a bit too far in his strictures, and he did not conceal his opinion.

”Dear boy,” responded Guntz, ”why should I not speak freely to you? Do you think it gives me any pleasure that so many of our superiors and comrades do not merit the respect which, as officers, they command?

This has nothing to do with their personal character. The only question for me is: are they fit for their profession? If not, they are only a nuisance in it, so far as I can see.”

”You used to be less severe.”

”Possibly. But when one has rubbed the sleepiness of habit out of one's eyes one sees more clearly and sharply. Besides, take an example.

Stuckhardt will be a major soon. Do you consider him fit to lead a division?”

”No, he has already made a terrible mess of his battery. He won't stay on the staff for a year, that's certain.”

”Why should he be there at all? I tell you he should never even have been made a captain. What about Gropphusen?”

”Ah! There you are! He has missed his vocation!”

”Why is he still where he is then?” Guntz laughed grimly to himself.