The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Xii Part 52

"Oh, how well I feel," said Effi, "so well and so happy! I can't think of heaven as more beautiful. And, after all, who knows whether they have such wonderful heliotrope in heaven?"

"Why, Effi, you must not talk like that. You get that from your father, to whom nothing is sacred. Not long ago he even said: 'Niemeyer looks like Lot.' Unheard of. And what in the world can he mean by it? In the first place he doesn't know how Lot looked, and secondly it shows an absolute lack of consideration for Hulda.

Luckily, Niemeyer has only the one daughter, and for this reason the comparison really falls to the ground. In one regard, to be sure, he was only too right, viz., in each and every thing that he said about 'Lot's wife,' our good pastor's better half, who again this year, as was to be expected, simply ruined our Sedan celebration by her folly and presumption. By the by it just occurs to me that we were interrupted in our conversation when Jahnke came by with the school.

At least I cannot imagine that the furs, of which you were speaking at that time, should have been your only wish. So let me know, darling, what further things you have set your heart upon."

"None, mama."

"Truly, none?"

"No, none, truly; perfectly in earnest. But, on second thought, if there were anything--"

"Well?"

"It would be a j.a.panese bed screen, black, with gold birds on it, all with long crane bills. And then perhaps, besides, a hanging lamp for our bedroom, with a red shade."

Mrs. von Briest remained silent.

"Now you see, mama, you are silent and look as though I had said something especially improper."

"No, Effi, nothing improper. Certainly not in the presence of your mother, for I know you so well. You are a fantastic little person, you like nothing better than to paint fanciful pictures of the future, and the richer their coloring the more beautiful and desirable they appear to you. I saw that when we were buying the traveling articles.

And now you fancy it would be altogether adorable to have a bed screen with a variety of fabulous beasts on it, all in the dim light of a red hanging lamp. It appeals to you as a fairy tale and you would like to be a princess."

Effi took her mother's hand and kissed it. "Yes, mama, that is my nature."

"Yes, that is your nature. I know it only too well. But, my dear Effi, we must be circ.u.mspect in life, and we women especially. Now when you go to Kessin, a small place, where hardly a streetlamp is lit at night, the people will laugh at such things. And if they would only stop with laughing! Those who are ill-disposed toward you--and there are always some--will speak of your bad bringing-up, and many will doubtless say even worse things."

"Nothing j.a.panese, then, and no hanging lamp either. But I confess I had thought it would be so beautiful and poetical to see everything in a dim red light."

Mrs. von Briest was moved. She got up and kissed Effi. "You are a child. Beautiful and poetical. Nothing but fancies. The reality is different, and often it is well that there should be dark instead of light and s.h.i.+mmer."

Effi seemed on the point of answering, but at this moment Wilke came and brought some letters. One was from Kessin, from Innstetten. "Ah, from Geert," said Effi, and putting the letter in her pocket, she continued in a calm tone: "But you surely will allow me to set the grand piano across one corner of the room. I care more for that than for the open fireplace that Geert has promised me. And then I am going to put your portrait on an easel. I can't be entirely without you. Oh, how I shall be homesick to see you, perhaps even on the wedding tour, and most certainly in Kessin. Why, they say the place has no garrison, not even a staff surgeon, and how fortunate it is that it is at least a watering place. Cousin von Briest, upon whom I shall rely as my chief support, always goes with his mother and sister to Warnemunde.

Now I really do not see why he should not, for a change, some day direct our dear relatives toward Kessin. Besides, 'direct' seems to suggest a position on the staff, to which, I believe, he aspires. And then, of course, he will come along and live at our house. Moreover Kessin, as somebody just recently told me, has a rather large steamer, which runs over to Sweden twice a week. And on the s.h.i.+p there is dancing (of course they have a band on board), and he dances very well."

"Who?"

"Why, Dagobert."

"I thought you meant Innstetten. In any case the time has now come to know what he writes. You still have the letter in your pocket, you know."

"That's right. I had almost forgotten it." She opened the letter and glanced over it.

"Well, Effi, not a word? You are not beaming and not even smiling. And yet he always writes such bright and entertaining letters, and not a word of fatherly wisdom in them."

"That I should not allow. He has his age and I have my youth. I should shake my finger at him and say: 'Geert, consider which is better.'"

"And then he would answer: 'You have what is better.' For he is not only a man of most refined manners, he is at the same time just and sensible and knows very well what youth means. He is always reminding himself of that and adapting himself to youthful ways, and if he remains the same after marriage you will lead a model married life."

"Yes, I think so, too, mama. But just imagine--and I am almost ashamed to say it--I am not so very much in favor of what is called a model married life."

"That is just like you. And now tell me, pray, what are you really in favor of?"

"I am--well, I am in favor of like and like and naturally also of tenderness and love. And if tenderness and love are out of the question, because, as papa says, love is after all only fiddle-faddle, which I, however, do not believe, well, then I am in favor of wealth and an aristocratic house, a really aristocratic one, to which Prince Frederick Charles will come for an elk or grouse hunt, or where the old Emperor will call and have a gracious word for every lady, even for the younger ones. And then when we are in Berlin I am for court b.a.l.l.s and gala performances at the Opera, with seats always close by the grand central box."

"Do you say that out of pure sauciness and caprice?"

"No, mama, I am fully in earnest. Love comes first, but right after love come splendor and honor, and then comes amus.e.m.e.nt--yes, amus.e.m.e.nt, always something new, always something to make me laugh or weep. The thing I cannot endure is _ennui_."

"If that is the case, how in the world have you managed to get along with us?"

"Why, mama, I am amazed to hear you say such a thing. To be sure, in the winter time, when our dear relatives come driving up to see us and stay for six hours, or perhaps even longer, and Aunt Gundel and Aunt Olga eye me from head to foot and find me impertinent--and Aunt Gundel once told me that I was--well, then occasionally it is not very pleasant, that I must admit. But otherwise I have always been happy here, so happy--"

As she said the last words she fell, sobbing convulsively, at her mother's feet and kissed her hands.

"Get up, Effi. Such emotions as these overcome one, when one is as young as you and facing her wedding and the uncertain future. But now read me the letter, unless it contains something very special, or perhaps secrets."

"Secrets," laughed Effi and sprang to her feet in a suddenly changed mood. "Secrets! Yes, yes, he is always coming to the point of telling me some, but the most of what he writes might with perfect propriety be posted on the bulletin board at the mayor's office, where the ordinances of the district council are posted. But then, you know, Geert is one of the councillors."

"Read, read."

"Dear Effi: The nearer we come to our wedding day, the more scanty your letters grow. When the mail arrives I always look first of all for your handwriting, but, as you know, all in vain, as a rule, and yet I did not ask to have it otherwise. The workmen are now in the house who are to prepare the rooms, few in number, to be sure, for your coming. The best part of the work will doubtless not be done till we are on our journey. Paper-hanger Madelung, who is to furnish everything, is an odd original. I shall tell you about him the next time. Now I must tell you first of all how happy I am over you, over my sweet little Effi. The very ground beneath my feet here is on fire, and yet our good city is growing more and more quiet and lonesome. The last summer guest left yesterday. Toward the end he went swimming at nine degrees above zero (Centigrade), and the attendants were always rejoiced when he came out alive. For they feared a stroke of apoplexy, which would give the baths a bad reputation, as though the water were worse here than elsewhere. I rejoice when I think that in four weeks I shall row with you from the Piazzetta out to the Lido or to Murano, where they make gla.s.s beads and beautiful jewelry. And the most beautiful shall be yours. Many greetings to your parents and the tenderest kiss for yourself from your Geert."

Effi folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.

"That is a very pretty letter," said Mrs. von Briest, "and that it observes due moderation throughout is a further merit."

"Yes, due moderation it surely does observe."

"My dear Effi, let me ask a question. Do you wish that the letter did not observe due moderation? Do you wish that it were more affectionate, perhaps gus.h.i.+ngly affectionate?"

"No, no, mama. Honestly and truly no, I do not wish that. So it is better as it is."

"So it is better as it is. There you go again. You are so queer. And by the by, a moment ago you were weeping. Is something troubling you?

It is not yet too late. Don't you love Geert?"

"Why shouldn't I love him? I love Hulda, and I love Bertha, and I love Hertha. And I love old Mr. Niemeyer, too. And that I love you and papa I don't even need to mention. I love all who mean well by me and are kind to me and humor me. No doubt Geert will humor me, too. To be sure, in his own way. You see he is already thinking of giving me jewelry in Venice. He hasn't the faintest suspicion that I care nothing for jewelry. I care more for climbing and swinging and am always happiest when I expect every moment that something will give way or break and cause me to tumble. It will not cost me my head the first time, you know."

"And perhaps you also love your Cousin von Briest?"

"Yes, very much. He always cheers me."

"And would you have liked to marry Cousin von Briest?"

"Marry? For heaven's sake no. Why, he is still half a boy. Geert is a man, a handsome man, a man with whom I can s.h.i.+ne and he will make something of himself in the world. What are you thinking of, mama?"

"Well, that is all right, Effi, I am glad to hear it. But there is something else troubling you."

"Perhaps."

"Well, speak."