“I thought you wished to speak to the gentleman?” jeered the Lieutenant. The wishes of the dying were fulfilled. If already this could happen to the father, how would the daughter be dishonored?
“What bloody beastliness!” raged the fat man, not taking his eye off the Lieutenant. He is in exactly the same situation as the ferryman who has to ferry a wolf, a goat and a cabbage, and only has one place left in his little craft. He could keep a watch on him or he could help the Rittmeister—both together were hardly possible. “Leave Herr von Prackwitz there,” advised the Lieutenant maliciously. “No one has seen us find him. And I—well, I’ve got to hold my tongue.”
The fat man stood thoughtfully there. “Lieutenant,” he said after a while, “dig yourself in the ribs. Tell me who blabbed about the dump, and I’ll let you go.”
“It’s my business,” said the Lieutenant slowly. “I don’t want anyone else sticking their nose into it. But I give you my word of honor it was all only stupid woman’s gossip and twaddle, not meant badly.…”
The fat man brooded. “I must know the name,” he said at last. “It wasn’t only Fräulein von Prackwitz—”
“It wasn’t Fräulein von Prackwitz!” the Lieutenant cried.
With a terrible blow in the pit of the stomach, the fat man was on him like a sudden storm; he couldn’t even begin to defend himself from the hail of blows. Before he knew where he was, he had been knocked down—the other groped in his pocket, drew out the pistol. “And the safety catch not up, you bloody coward!” he cursed. “Well, my lad, do what you needs must do, without a weapon. But I’ll get you again before you know about it.”
The Lieutenant, unable even to reply, lay on the ground. His whole body was in pain, but far worse was the fury of despair. This fat man, this pitiless brutal giant—he was at the bench, he already had the Rittmeister in his arms.
I must get up, I must go, thought the Lieutenant.
The fat man in passing gave him a frightful kick in the side, and it appeared as if he laughed or sniggered as he hurried away.
He wishes to damage me so that I don’t make off, thought the Lieutenant—and was alone. He lay there waiting for the return of his strength, for a little breath, for the blessing of a decision.… It is my chance, he thought. I must go away, to the Black Dale—the Black Dale. But I’ve no weapon and none of the comrades would give me one. They all know.… Oh, I must leave here.
Swaying, he got up. It was the second time he had been knocked down today, and it was the worse of the two.
“I mustn’t crawl like this; I must hurry, I must run,” he whispered and stood still, holding on to a tree. His face felt as if it had been flayed. I can’t go like this into the town. I must look a sight. He’s knocked me about horribly, the brutal swine. That’s what he wanted.
He was almost in tears with self-pity, almost in tears because it was so cowardly to sob. “Oh, my God,” he groaned, “my God! I want to die. Why don’t they let me die in peace? Will no one help me, my God?”
A little later he found himself walking. He had left the fortifications, he was in the town.
But I must go faster, he thought. He’ll catch me for certain, at the latest in my hotel. Yes, stare, you fool. That’s the way a man looks who’s been trimmed by them. And in a loud challenging voice, quarrelsome as a drunken man’s: “Stare, fool!”
“Good day, Herr Lieutenant,” said a polite, a very polite voice. “Perhaps the Lieutenant doesn’t remember me?”
Befogged by pain and numbness, the Lieutenant sought to recall the face. The polite, dispassionate voice soothed his shameful degradation. It seemed as though no one had spoken to him in that way for ages.
“Räder,” the other assisted him. “My name is Hubert Räder. I was in service at Neulohe, not with the Geheimrat but the Rittmeister.”
“Oh,” cried the Lieutenant, almost delighted, “you’re the one who wouldn’t help me up the chestnut tree. Yes, I remember.”
“But I should now be glad to be of assistance to the Lieutenant. As I said, I’m not in service there now. You look as if you require some assistance, sir.”
“Yes. I fell down.” He thought a moment. “I was set upon.”
“If I could be of service to you, sir—”
“Clear off, man! Don’t you bother me,” suddenly screamed the Lieutenant. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you people from Neulohe. You all bring me bad luck.” And he tried to go more quickly in order to get away from the fellow.
“But, Herr Lieutenant,” said the calm, unimpassioned voice at his side, “I don’t come from Neulohe. And, as I said, I’m not employed there anymore. In short, I’ve been thrown out.”
The Lieutenant stopped. “Who threw you out?”
“The Rittmeister, sir. The Rittmeister engaged me and the Rittmeister threw me out—no one else would have been legally entitled to do so, otherwise.” The man spoke with a certain foolish satisfaction.
The Lieutenant remembered something. Violet had spoken about this servant—a conceited fool. “Why were you thrown out?” he asked.
“The young lady wished it,” replied the servant curtly. “The young lady didn’t like me from the beginning. Antipathies like that do occur. I have read about it in a book. Scientifically they are called idio-syn-cra-sies.”
The wishes of the dying are fulfilled. The Lieutenant would have liked to take advantage of this very timely help, but some instinct or other warned him that it was a little too timely, and he became suspicious. “Listen,” he said. “Go quickly to The Golden Hat. The Rittmeister has met with an accident. You will be received there like the Saviour himself, and get your job back and your wages doubled, man.”
For the first time the gray, murky, fishlike eye met his.
“No.” The servant shook his head. “You must excuse me, sir, but we learned at the training school that one must never return to a situation. Practice has proved that it is not expedient.”
The Lieutenant was utterly exhausted. “Then clear off, fellow,” he said wearily. “I have no use for a servant, I can’t pay for a servant. So leave me in peace.” He walked on. He had wasted so much time, and it was so far to his hotel.
“What do you still want?” he shouted angrily at his silent companion.
“I should like to be of assistance to the Lieutenant. Herr Lieutenant needs assistance.”
“No!” yelled the Lieutenant.
“If you will permit me, sir,” whispered the obstinate voice, “I have taken a small room here close by. You could wash yourself quite undisturbed, sir. In the meantime I will clean your clothes.…”
“Blast the clothes!”
“Yes, Herr Lieutenant. Perhaps you could do with a strong coffee, sir, and a double cognac. I can believe that you will need all your energies today, sir,” he suggested a little confidentially.
“You, what can you believe, you donkey?” cried the furious Lieutenant. “What do you know about my energies?”
“Well, about the dump that was betrayed,” explained the cold, obsequious voice. “I can imagine that you will not so easily put up with what the young lady has let you in for, sir.”
The Lieutenant stood as if struck by lightning. His most secret thoughts in the possession of this intruder, this idiot! He could not understand it. “All right then, come along, show me your room,” he said abruptly. “But if there’s the slightest dirty trick …”
“I will explain, sir. It is all comprehensible forthwith. This way, please, Herr Lieutenant. If I may take your arm, sir, it would be quicker.…”