Part 25

When his Royal Highness Klaus Heinrich left his window in the "Hermitage" open, the noise of the work at Delphinenort penetrated right through to the Empire room, and he often drove past the Schloss amid the respectful greetings of the public, in order to satisfy himself of the progress of the restoration. The gardener's cottage was painted up, the sheds and stables, which were destined to accommodate Spoelmann's fleet of motors and carriages, were enlarged; and by October, furniture and carpets, chests and cases full of stuffs and household utensils had been delivered at Schloss Delphinenort, while it was whispered among the bystanders that inside the walls skilled hands were at work fitting Spoelmann's costly organ, which had been sent from over the sea, with electric action.

There was much excitement to know whether the park belonging to the Schloss, which had been so splendidly cleaned up and trimmed, was to be fenced off from the public by a wall or hedge. But nothing of the sort was done. It was Spoelmann's wish that the property should continue to be accessible, that no restraint should be placed on the citizens' enjoyment of the park. The Sunday promenaders should have access right up to the Schloss, up to the clipped hedge which surrounded the big square pond--and this did not fail to make an excellent impression on the population; indeed, the Courier published a special article on the subject, in which it praised Mr. Spoelmann for his philanthropy.

And behold! when the leaves again began to fall, exactly one year after his first appearance, Samuel Spoelmann landed a second time at our railway station. This time the general interest in the event was much greater than in the preceding year, and it is on record that, when Mr. Spoelmann, in his well-known faded coat and with his hat over his eyes, left his saloon, loud cheers were raised by the crowd of spectators--an expression of feelings which Mr. Spoelmann seemed rather inclined to resent, and which not he but Doctor Watercloose acknowledged with blinking eyes and a broad smile. When Miss Spoelmann too alighted, a cheer was raised, and one or two urchins even shouted when Percy, the collie, appeared springing, leaping, and altogether beside himself, on the platform. In addition to the doctor and Countess Löwenjoul there were two unknown persons in attendance, two clean-shaven and decided-looking men in strangely roomy coats. They were Mr. Spoelmann's secretaries, Messrs. Phlebs and Slippers, as the Courier announced in its report.

At that time Delphinenort was far from ready, and the Spoelmanns at once took possession of the first floor of the chief hotel, where a big, haughty, paunch-bellied man in black, the steward or butler of the Spoelmann establishment, who had preceded them, had made preparations for them, and put the chamber-velocipede together with his own hands. Every day, while Miss Imma with her Countess and Percy went for a ride or a visit to some charitable institution, Mr. Spoelmann hung about his house, superintending the work and giving orders, and when the end of the year approached, just after the first snow had fallen, prospect became fact, and the Spoelmanns took up their abode in Schloss Delphinenort. Two motor cars (their arrival had been watched with interest--splendid cars they were) bore the six members of the party--Messrs. Phlebs and Slippers sat in the hinder one--driven by the leather-clad chauffeurs, with servants in snow-white fur coats and crossed arms beside them, in a few minutes from the hotel through the City Gardens; and as the cars dashed along the noble chestnut avenue which led to the drive, the urchins climbed up the high lamp-posts which stood at all four corners of the big spa-basin, and waved their caps and cheered....

So Spoelmann and his belongings settled down among us, and we basked in the light of his presence. His white-and-gold livery was seen and known in the city, just as the brown-and-gold Grand Ducal livery was seen and known; the negro in scarlet plush who was doorkeeper at Delphinenort soon became a popular figure, and when passers-by heard the subdued rumble of Mr. Spoelmann's organ from the interior of the Schloss they lifted a finger and said: "Hark, he's playing. That means that he's not got colic for the moment."

Miss Imma was to be seen daily by the side of Countess Löwenjoul, followed by a groom and with Percy capering round, riding, or driving a smart four-in-hand through the City Gardens--while the servant who sat on the back seat stood up from time to time, drew a long silver horn from a leather sheath and wound a shrill warning of their approach; and by getting up early one could see father and daughter every morning go in a dark-red brougham, or, in fine weather, on foot through the park of Schloss "Hermitage" to the Spa-Garden, in order to drink the waters. Imma for her part, as already mentioned, again began a course of visits to the benevolent institutions of the city, though she appeared not to give up her studies for all that; for from the beginning of the half-term she regularly attended the lectures of the Councillor Klinghammer at the University--sat daily in a black dress with white collar and cuffs among the young students in the lecture-theatre, and drove her fountain-pen--with her fore-finger raised in the air, a trick of hers when writing--over the pages of her notebook.

The Spoelmanns lived in retirement, they did not mix in the life of the town, as was natural in view both of Mr. Spoelmann's ill-health and of his social loneliness. What social group could he have attached himself to? Nobody even suggested to him that he should consort with soap-boiler Unschlitt or bank-director Wolfsmilch on confidential terms. Yet he was soon approached with appeals to his generosity, and the appeals were not in vain. For Mr. Spoelmann, who, it was well known, before his departure from America had given a large sum in dollars to the Board of Education in the United States, and had also stated in so many words that he had no intention of withdrawing his yearly contributions to the Spoelmann University and his other educational foundations--he, shortly after his arrival at "Delphinenort," put his name down for a subscription of ten thousand marks to the Dorothea Children's Hospital, for which a collection was just being made; an action the nobleness of which was immediately recognized in fitting terms by the Courier and the rest of the press.

In fact, although the Spoelmanns lived in seclusion in a social sense, a certain amount of publicity attached to their life among us from the earliest moments, and in the local section of the daily newspapers at least their movements were followed with as much particularity as those of the members of the Grand Ducal House. The public were informed when Miss Imma had played a game of lawn tennis with the Countess and Messrs. Phlebs and Slippers in the "Delphinenort" park; it was noted when she had been at the Court Theatre, and whether her father had gone with her for an act or two of the Opera; and if Mr. Spoelmann shrank from curiosity, never leaving his box during the intervals and scarcely ever showing himself on foot in the streets, yet he was obviously not insensible to the duties of a spectacular kind which were inherent in an extraordinary existence like his own, and he gave the love of gazing its due.

It has been said that the "Delphinenort" park was not divided from the Town Gardens. No walls separated the Schloss from the outer world. From the back one could walk over the turf right up to the foot of the broad covered terrace which had been built on that side, and, if bold enough, look through the big glass door straight into the high white-and-gold garden-room in which Mr. Spoelmann and his family had five-o'clock tea. Indeed, when summer came, tea was laid on the terrace outside, and Mr. and Miss Spoelmann, the Countess and Doctor Watercloose sat in basket chairs of a new-fangled shape, and took their tea as if on a public platform.

For on Sunday, at any rate, there was never wanting a public to enjoy the spectacle at a respectful distance. They called each other's attention to the silver tea-kettle, which was heated by electricity--a quite novel idea--and to the wonderful liveries of the two footmen who handed the tea and cakes, white, high-buttoned, gold-laced coats with swan's-down on the collars, cuffs, and seams. They listened to the English-German conversation and followed with open mouths every movement of the notable family on the terrace. They then went round past the front door, in order to shout a few witticisms in the local dialect to the red-plush negro, which he answered with a dental grin.

Klaus Heinrich saw Imma Spoelmann for the first time on a bright winter's day at noon. That does not mean that he had not already caught sight of her often at the theatre, in the street, and in the town park. But that's quite a different thing. He saw her for the first time at this midday hour in exciting circumstances.

He had been giving "free audiences" in the Old Schloss till half-past eleven, and after they were finished had not returned at once to Schloss "Hermitage," but had ordered his coachman to keep the carriage waiting in one of the courts, as he wished to smoke a cigarette with the Guards officers on duty. As he wore the uniform of that regiment, to which his personal aide-de-camp also belonged, he made an effort to maintain the semblance of some sort of camaraderie with the officers; he dined from time to time in their mess and occasionally gave them half an hour of his company on guard, although he had a dim suspicion that he was rather a nuisance as he kept them from their cards and smoking-room stories.

So there he stood, the convex silver star of the Noble Order of the Grimmburg Griffin on his breast, his left hand planted well back on his hip, with Herr von Braunbart-Schellendorf, who had given due notice of the visit in the officers' mess, which was situated on the ground floor of the Schloss near the Albrechts Gate--engaged in a trivial conversation with two or three officers in the middle of the room, while a further group of officers chatted at the deep-set window. Owing to the warmth of sun outside the window stood open, and from the barracks along the Albrechtstrasse came the strains of the drum and fife band of the approaching relief guard.

Twelve o'clock struck from the Court Chapel tower. The loud "Fall in!" of the non-commissioned officer was heard outside, and the rattle of grenadiers standing to arms. The public collected on the square. The lieutenant on duty hastily buckled on his sword belt, clapped his heels together in a salute to Klaus Heinrich and went out. Then suddenly Lieutenant von Sturmhahn, who had been looking out of the window, cried with that rather poor imitation of familiarity which was proper to the relations between Klaus Heinrich and the officers: "Great heavens, here's something for you to look at, Royal Highness! There goes Miss Spoelmann, with her algebra under her arm...."

Klaus Heinrich walked to the window. Miss Imma was walking by herself along the pavement. With both hands thrust into her big flat muff, which was trimmed with pendent tails, she carried her notebook pressed to her side with her elbow. She was wearing a long coat of shiny black fox, and a toque of the same fur on her dark foreign-looking hair. She was obviously coming from "Delphinenort" and hurrying towards the University. She reached the main guard-house at the moment at which the relief guard marched up the gutter, over against the guard on duty, which standing at attention in two ranks occupied the pavement. She was absolutely compelled to go round, outside the band and the crowd of spectators--indeed, if she wished to avoid the open square with its tram-lines, to make a fairly wide detour on the footpath running round it--or to wait for the end of the military ceremony.

She showed no intention of doing either. She made as if to walk along the pavement in front of the Schloss right down between the two ranks of soldiers. The sergeant with the harsh voice stepped forward quickly. "Not this way!" he cried and held the butt of his rifle in front of her. "Not this way! Right about! Wait!"

But Miss Spoelmann fired up. "What d'you mean?" she cried. "I'm in a hurry!"

But her words were not so impressive as the expression of honest, passionate, irresistible anger with which they were uttered. How slight and lonely she was! The fair-haired soldiers round her towered head and shoulders above her. Her face was as pale as wax at this moment, her black eyebrows were knitted in a hard and expressive wrinkle, her nostrils distended, and her eyes, black with excitement and wide-opened, spoke so expressive and bewitching a language that no protest seemed possible.

"What d'you mean?" she cried. "I'm in a hurry!" And as she said it she pushed the rifle-butt, and the stupefied sergeant with it, aside, and walked down between the lines, went straight on her way, turned to the left into Universitätsstrasse and vanished.

"I'm dammed!" cried Lieutenant von Sturmhahn. "That's one for us!" The officers at the window laughed. The spectators outside, too, were much amused, and not unsympathetic. Klaus Heinrich joined in the general hilarity. The changing of the guard proceeded with loud words of command and snatches of march tunes. Klaus Heinrich returned to the "Hermitage."

He lunched all alone, went for a ride in the afternoon on his brown horse Florian, and spent the evening at a big party at Dr. Krippenreuther, the Finance Minister's house. He related to several people with great animation the episode of the guard, although the story had already gone the round and become common property. Next day he had to go away, for he had been told by his brother to represent him at the inauguration of the new Town Hall in a neighbouring town. For some reason or other, he went reluctantly, he disliked leaving the capital. He had a feeling that he was missing an important, pleasant, though rather disquieting opportunity, which imperatively demanded his presence. And yet his exalted calling must be more important. But while he sat serene and gorgeously dressed on his seat of honour in the Town Hall, and read his speech to the Mayor, Klaus Heinrich's thoughts were not concentrated on the figure he presented to the eyes of the crowd, but rather were busied with this new and important topic. He also gave a passing thought to a person whose casual acquaintance he had made long years before, to Fräulein Unschlitt, the soap-boiler's daughter--a memory which had a certain connexion with the importunate topic....

Imma Spoelmann pushed the harsh-voiced sergeant aside in her anger--walked all alone, her algebra under her arm, down the ranks of the big fair-haired grenadiers. How pearly-white her face was against her black hair under her fur toque, and how her eyes spoke! There was nobody like her. Her father was rich, surfeited with riches, and had bought one of the Grand Ducal Schlosses. What was it that the Courier had said about his undeserved reputation and the "romantic isolation of his life"? He was the object of the hatred of aggrieved rivals--that was the effect of the article. And her nostrils had distended with anger. There was nobody like her, nobody near or far. She was an exception. And suppose she had been at the Citizens' Ball on that occasion? He would then have had a companion, would not have made a fool of himself, and would not have ended the evening in despair. "Down, down, down with him!" Phew! Just think of how she looked as she walked, dark and pale and wonderful, down the ranks of fair-haired soldiers.

These were the thoughts which occupied Klaus Heinrich during the next few days--just these three or four mental pictures. And the strange thing is that they were amply sufficient for him, and that he did not want any more. But all things considered, it seemed to him more than desirable that he should get another glimpse of the pearly-white face soon, to-day if possible.

In the evening he went to the Court Theatre, where The Magic Flute was being played. And when from his box he descried Miss Spoelmann next to Countess Löwenjoul in the front of the circle, a tremor went right through him. During the opera he could watch her out of the darkness through his opera-glasses, for the light from the stage fell on her. She laid her head on her small, ringless hand, while she rested her bare arm on the velvet braid, and she did not look angry now. She wore a dress of glistening sea-green silk with a light scarf on which bright flowers were embroidered, and round her neck a long chain of sparkling diamonds. She really was not so small as she looked, Klaus Heinrich decided, when she stood up at the end of the act. No, the childish shape of her head and the narrowness of her shoulders accounted for her looking such a little thing. Her arms were well developed, and one could see that she played games and rode. But at the wrist her arm looked like a child's.

When the passage came: "He is a prince. He is more than that," Klaus Heinrich conceived the wish to have a talk with Doctor Ueberbein. Doctor Ueberbein called by chance next day at the "Hermitage" in a black frock-coat and white tie, as usual when he paid Klaus Heinrich a visit. Klaus Heinrich asked him whether he had already heard the story of the changing of the guard. Yes, answered Doctor Ueberbein, several times. But would Klaus Heinrich like to relate it to him again?... "No, not if you know it," said Klaus Heinrich, disappointed. Then Doctor Ueberbein jumped to quite another topic. He began to talk about opera-glasses, and remarked that opera-glasses were a wonderful invention. They brought close what was unfortunately a long way off, did they not? They formed a bridge to a longed-for goal. What did Klaus Heinrich think? Klaus Heinrich was inclined to agree to a certain extent. And it seemed that yesterday evening, so people said, he had made a free use of this grand invention, said the doctor. Klaus Heinrich could not see the point of this remark.

Then Doctor Ueberbein said: "No, look here, Klaus Heinrich, that won't do. You are stared at, and little Imma is stared at, and that's enough. If you add to it by staring at little Imma, that's too much. You must see that, surely?"

"Oh dear, Doctor Ueberbein, I never thought of that."

"But in other cases you generally do think of that sort of thing."