A little reluctantly, Frau von Prackwitz stepped toward the office. From the threshold she looked back at the two young people.
“Where would the young Fräulein like to go?” asked Pagel.
“Oh, just up and down in front of the windows.”
Frau von Prackwitz entered the office.
III
“Would you perhaps like to see the huge cooking arrangements in the Manor?” asked Pagel. “There’s terrific activity there now.”
“I’ve got to go there with Mamma afterwards. Who is doing the cooking?”
“Fräulein Backs and Fräulein Kowalewski.”
“I can understand Amanda doing it. But I should have thought Sophie considered herself a cut above cooking for convicts!”
“Everyone likes to earn a little money nowadays.”
“You don’t seem to, if you run around here smoking during working hours,” snapped Violet.
“Does my cigarette disturb you?” asked Pagel, taking it out of his mouth.
“Not at all. I like smoking myself. When the people in the office have forgotten us, we can sneak away into the park for a bit. Then you can give me one.”
“We can go straight away. Or do you think your mother considers me too dangerous to be allowed to walk in the park with you?”
“You dangerous!” Vi laughed. “No, but, you see, I’m supposed to be confined to my room.”
“You are allowed to go only with your Mamma, then?”
“How clever you are!” she cried mockingly. “For three weeks the whole district has been talking about my being confined to my room, and now you’ve noticed it, too.”
But her irritation made no impression on him. He smiled cheerfully. “May one inquire why you are confined to your room? Was it for something very bad?”
“Don’t be indiscreet!” she said very pertly. “A gentleman is never indiscreet.”
“I suppose I shall never be a gentleman, Fräulein,” confessed Pagel sadly, feeling his breast pocket with a secret smile. “But if you think the people in the office are talking loud enough, we might steal into the park and smoke a cigarette.”
“Wait.” She listened. Studmann’s voice could be heard, calm but very emphatic. Then the Rittmeister was plaintively protesting against something—and now Frau von Prackwitz was saying a great deal, very determined, very clear. “Mamma’s off, let’s go!”
They walked along the broad path between the lawns into the park.
“They can’t see us now. Now you can give me a cigarette.… Heavens, this is a wonderful brand you smoke. How much do they cost?”
“Some millions, I can’t remember; it changes every day. Anyway I get them from a friend, a certain Herr von Zecke who lives in Haidar-Pascha. Do you know where Haidar-Pascha is?”
“How should I know? I’m not training to be a teacher of kids!”
“No, of course not. I’m sorry.… Haidar-Pascha is on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus.”
“Heavens, Herr Pagel, stop talking such rubbish! Why do you keep grinning like that? Whenever I look at you, you’re grinning.”
“It’s a war injury, Fräulein. Injury of the nervus sympathicus in its central canal. You know, just as shell-shock cases shake, so I grin.”
“Are you trying to pull my leg?” she cried indignantly. “I won’t have it.”
“But, Fräulein, word of honor, it’s a war injury. When I cry it looks as if I were laughing tears—it has got me into the most unpleasant situations.”
“One doesn’t know where one is with you,” she declared, dissatisfied. “Men like you are simply horrible.”
“That makes me harmless; that’s an advantage, Fräulein.”
“Yes, I don’t doubt it!” she said scornfully. “I’d really like to know how you would go about it if …”
“Go about what? Go on, say it! Or are you afraid?”
“Afraid of you? Don’t be ridiculous! I was wondering how you’d look if you wanted to give a girl a kiss.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” confessed Pagel miserably. “To tell you the truth, Fräulein, I’ve thought about it thousands of times, but I’m so shy, and then …”
“What!” Vi gave him a superior look. “You’ve never yet given a girl a kiss?”
“I’ve intended to hundreds of times, Fräulein, word of honor! But at the decisive moment my courage …”
“How old are you?”
“Nearly twenty-four.”
“And you’ve never yet kissed a girl?”
“I’m telling you, Fräulein, my shyness …”
“Coward!” she cried with the deepest contempt. And for a while they walked in silence down the avenue of tall lime trees which led to the pond.
“Fräulein, may I ask you something?”
Ungraciously: “Well, what is it?—hero!”
“But you mustn’t be angry with me.”
“What is the question?”
“Sure you won’t?”
Very impatiently: “No! What’s the question?”
“Well—how old are you, Fräulein?”
“You idiot! Sixteen.”
“You see, you are angry—and I’m just beginning my questions.”
Stamping her foot: “Well, get on with them—you weakling!”
“You’re sure you won’t be angry?”
“Ask your questions!”
“Fräulein—have you ever kissed a man?”
“I?” She pondered. “Of course. Hundreds of times.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Thousands of times!”
“You’re joking!”
“It’s true. My Papa!” And she burst into a peal of laughter.
“There you are!” said Pagel when she had finally quieted down. “You haven’t the courage either.”
Vi was indignant. “I haven’t got the courage?”
“No, you’re just as afraid as I am.”
“Well, I have kissed a man. And not just Papa. A young man, a brave man”—her voice almost sang now—“not a weakling like you.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true, it’s true. He’s even got a mustache, a little fair one, it prickles. And you haven’t got one!”
“I see,” said Pagel, crestfallen. “And you’re really only sixteen, Fräulein?”
“I’m only fifteen, even,” she declared in triumph.
“I say, but you have got courage,” he said admiringly. “I could never be as brave as that. But, of course, you have never kissed a man. You only let yourself be kissed. That is quite different. To get hold of a man’s head and smother him with kisses—you couldn’t do that.”
“I couldn’t do that?” she cried with blazing eyes. “What do you think of me, then?”
He lowered his glance before hers. “Please, Fräulein! I haven’t said anything. Of course you could do it, I believe you. Please, don’t …” But he pleaded in vain. Her flaming eyes, her half-opened mouth, came closer to him, although he tried to retreat. Her mouth laid itself on his.…
And she felt a change come over him, as if her lips had given strength to him. She felt herself crushed in his arms, his lips returned her kiss.… Now she wanted to draw away, now she was afraid.… But the kiss of those lips grew hotter and hotter; she wanted to resist, and she felt herself yielding. Her head, which had been proudly erect, gave way, nestled.… Her back became soft, she hung in his arms.… “Oh!” she sighed and sank into the ecstasy she had missed for so long. “Oh, you …”
But his arms ceased to hold her. His face was again far away; it looked serious, no longer wearing the smile.
“Well, Fräulein, that was that!” he said calmly. “Anyone as weak as you shouldn’t play with men.”
“You are mean!” she cried with flaming cheeks, partly from anger and partly from shame. “A gentleman wouldn’t do a thing like that.”