Pointed Roofs: Pilgrimage Part 14

Gertrude's smile broadened. "Go on," she said, shaking the drops from her chin, "it's all in the day's work."

In the hard clear light Miriam saw that the teeth that looked so gleaming and strong in the distance were slightly ribbed and fluted and had serrated edges. Large stoppings showed like shadows behind the thin sh.e.l.ls of the upper front ones. Even Gertrude might be ill one day; but she would never be ill and sad and helpless. That was clear from the neat way she plunged in through her curtains....

Miriam's eyes went back to the row of little curtained recesses in the gallery. The drapery that had flapped was now half withdrawn, the light from the gla.s.s roof fell upon the top of a head flung back and shaking its mane of hair. The profile was invisible, but the sheeny hair rippled in thick gilded waves almost to the floor.... How hateful of her, thought Miriam.... How beautiful. I should be just the same if I had hair like that... that's Germany.... Lohengrin.... She stood adoring.

"Stay and talk while I get on my togs," came Gertrude's voice from behind her curtains.

Miriam glanced towards the marble steps. The little group had disappeared. She turned helplessly towards Gertrude's curtains.

She could not think of anything to say to her. She was filled with apprehension. "I wonder what we shall do to-morrow," she presently murmured.

"I don't," gasped Gertrude, towelling.

Miriam waited for the prophecy.

"Old Lahmann's back from Geneva," came the harsh panting voice.

"Pastor Lahmann?" repeated Miriam.

"None other, Madame."

"Have you seen him?" went on Miriam dimly, wis.h.i.+ng that she might be released.

"Scots wha hae, no! But I saw Lily's frills."

The billows of gold hair in the gallery were being piled up by two little hands--white and plump like Eve's, but with quick clever irritating movements, and a thin sweet self-conscious voice began singing "Du, meine _Seele._" Miriam lost interest in the vision....

They were all the same. Men liked creatures like that. She could imagine that girl married.

"Lily and his wife were great friends," Gertrude was saying. "She's dead, you know."

"_Is_ she," said Miriam emphatically.

"She used to be always coming when I first came over, Scots wha--blow--got a pin, Hendy? We shan't have his... thanks, you're a saint... his boys in the schoolroom any more now."

"Are those Pastor Lahmann's boys?" said Miriam, noticing Gertrude's hair was coa.r.s.e, each hair a separate thread. "She's the wiry plucky kind.

How she must despise me," said her mind.

"Well," said Gertrude, switching back her curtain to lace her boots.

"Long may Lily beam. I like summer weather myself."

Miriam turned away. Gertrude half-dressed behind the curtains was too clever for her. She could not face her unveiled with vacant eyes.

"The summer is jolly, isn't it?" she said uneasily.

"You're right, my friend. Hullo! There's Emmchen looking for you. I expect the Germans have just finished their annual. They never come into the Schwimmbad, they're always too late. I should think you'd better toddle them home, Hendy--the darlings might catch cold."

"Don't we all go together?"

"We go as we are ready, from this establishment, just anyhow as long as we're not in ones or twos--Lily won't have twos, as I dare say you've observed. Be good, my che-hild," she said heartily, drawing on her second boot, "and you'll be happy--sehr sehr happy, I hope, Hendy."

7

"Thank you," laughed Miriam. Emma's hands were on her m.u.f.f, stroking it eagerly. "Hendchen, Hendchen," she cooed in her consoling tones, "to house to house, I am so angry--hangry."

"Hungry."

"Hungry, yes, and Minna and Clara is ready. Kom!"

The child linked arms with her and pulled Miriam towards the corridor.

Once out of sight under the gallery she slipped her arm round Miriam's waist. "Oh, Hendchen, my darling beautiful, you have so lovely teint after your badth--oh, I am zo hangry, oh Hendchen, I luff you zo, I am zo haypie, kiss me one small, small kiss."

"What a baby you are," said Miriam, half turning as the girl's warm lips brushed the angle of her jaw. "Yes, we'll go home, come along."

The corridor was almost airless. She longed to get out into the open.

They found Minna at a table in the entrance hall her head propped on her hand, snoring gently. Clara sat near her with closed eyes.

As the little party of four making its way home, cleansed and hungry, united and happy, stood for a moment on a tree-planted island half-way across a wide open s.p.a.ce, Minna with her eager smile said, gazing, "Oh, I would like a gla.s.s Bier." Miriam saw very distinctly the clear sunlight on the boles of the trees showing every ridge and shade of colour as it had done on the peaked summer-house porch in the morning.

The girls closed in on her during the moment of disgust which postponed her response.

"Dear Hendchen! We are alone! Just we nice four! Just only one most little small gla.s.s! Just one! Kind best, Hendchen!" she heard. She pushed her way through the little group pretending to ignore their pleadings and to look for obstacles to their pa.s.sage to the opposite curb. She felt her disgust was absurd and was asking herself why the girls should not have their beer. She would like to watch them, she knew; these little German Fraus-to-be serenely happy at their bier table on this bright afternoon. They closed in on her again. Emma in the gutter in front of her. She felt arms and hands, and the pleading voices besieged her again. Emma's upturned tragic face, her usually motionless lips a beseeching tunnel, her chin and throat moving to her ardent words made Miriam laugh. It _was_ disgusting. "No, no," she said hastily, backing away from them to the end of the island. "Of course not. Come along. Don't be silly." The elder girls gave in. Emma kept up a little solo of reproach hanging on Miriam's arm. "Very strict. Cold English. No bier. I want to home. I have bier to home" until they were in sight of the high walls of Waldstra.s.se.

8

Pastor Lahmann gave a French lesson the next afternoon.

"Sur l'eau, si beau!"

This refrain threatening for the third time, three or four of the girls led by Bertha Martin, supplied it in a subdued singsong without waiting for Pastor Lahmann's slow voice. Miriam had scarcely attended to his discourse. He had begun in flat easy tones, describing his visit to Geneva, the snowclad mountains, the quiet lake, the spring flowers. His words brought her no vision and her mind wandered, half tethered. But when he began reading the poem she sank into the rhythm and turned towards him and fixed expectant eyes upon his face. His expression disturbed her. Why did he read with that half-smile? She felt sure that he felt they were "young ladies," "demoiselles," "jeunes filles." She wanted to tell him she was nothing of the kind and take the book from him and show him how to read. His eyes, soft and brown, were the eyes of a child. She noticed that the lower portion of his flat white cheeks looked broader than the upper without giving an effect of squareness of jaw. Then the rhythm took her again and with the second "sur l'eau, si beau," she saw a very blue lake and a little boat with lateen sails, and during the third verse began to forget the lifeless voice. As the murmured refrain came from the girls there was a slight movement in Fraulein's sofa-corner. Miriam did not turn her eyes from Pastor Lahmann's face to look at her, but half expected that at the end of the next verse her low clear devout tones would be heard joining in. Part way through the verse with a startling sweep of draperies against the leather covering of the sofa, Fraulein stood up and towered extraordinarily tall at Pastor Lahmann's right hand. Her eyes were wide.

Miriam thought she had never seen anyone look so pale. She was speaking very quickly in German. Pastor Lahmann rose and faced her. Miriam had just grasped the fact that she was taking the French master to task for reading poetry to his pupils and heard Pastor Lahmann slowly and politely enquire of her whether she or he were conducting the lesson when the two voices broke out together. Fraulein's fiercely voluble and the Herr Pastor's voluble and mocking and polite. The two voices continued as he made his way, bowing gravely, down the far side of the table to the saal doors. Here he turned for a moment and his face shone black and white against the dark panelling. "Na, Kinder," crooned Fraulein gently, when he had disappeared, "a walk--a walk in the beautiful suns.h.i.+ne. Make ready quickly."

"My sainted uncle," laughed Bertha as they trooped down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs. "Oh--my stars!"

"_Did_ you see her eyes?"

"Ja! Wuthend!"

"I wonder the poor little man wasn't burnt up."

"Hurry up, madshuns, we'll have a ripping walk. We'll see if we can go Tiergartenstra.s.se."

"Does this sort of thing often happen?" asked Miriam, finding herself bending over a boot-box at Gertrude's side.

Gertrude turned and winked at her. "Only sometimes."