Part 26

"I've felt so funny for the last few days," said Klaus Heinrich.

Doctor Ueberbein leaned back, pulled at his red beard near his throat, and nodded slowly with his head and neck.

"Really? Have you?" he asked. And then went on nodding.

Klaus Heinrich said: "You can't think how reluctant I was to go the other day to the inauguration of the Town Hall. And to-morrow I have to superintend the swearing-in of the Grenadier recruits. And then comes the Chapter of the Family Order. I don't feel a bit in the mood for that. I find no pleasure in doing my duty as the representative of my people. I've no inclination for my so-called lofty calling."

"I'm sorry to hear it!" said Doctor Ueberbein sharply.

"Yes, I might have known that you would be angry, Doctor Ueberbein. Of course you'll call it sloppiness, and will read me a sermon about 'destiny and discipline,' if I know you. But at the opera yesterday I thought of you at one point, and asked myself whether you really were so right in several particulars...."

"Look here, Klaus Heinrich, once already, if I'm not mistaken, I've dragged your Royal Highness out of the mud, so to speak...."

"That was quite different, Doctor Ueberbein! How I wish you could see that was absolutely different! That was at the Citizens' Ball, but it was years ago, and I don't feel a twinge in that direction. For she is ... Look you, you have often explained to me what you understand by 'Highness,' and that it is something affecting, and something to be approached with tender sympathy. Don't you think that she of whom we are speaking, that she is affecting and that one must feel sympathy with her?"

"Perhaps," said Doctor Ueberbein. "Perhaps."

"You often said that one must not disavow exceptions, that to do so was sloppiness and slovenly and good-nature. Don't you think that she too of whom we are speaking is an exception?"

Doctor Ueberbein was silent. Then he said suddenly and decidedly, "And now I, if possible, am to help to make two exceptions into a rule?"

Thereupon he went out. He said that he must get back to his work, emphasizing the word "work," and begged leave to withdraw. He took his departure in a strangely ceremonious and unfatherly way.

Klaus Heinrich did not see him for ten or twelve days. He asked him to lunch once, but Doctor Ueberbein begged to be excused, his work at the moment was too pressing. At last he came spontaneously. He was in high spirits and looked greener than ever. He blustered about this and that, and at last came to the subject of the Spoelmanns, looking at the ceiling and pulling at his throat when he did so. To be quite fair, he said, there was a striking amount of sympathy felt with Samuel Spoelmann, one could see all over the town how much beloved he was. Chiefly of course as an object of taxation, but in other respects too. There was simply a penchant for him, in every class, for his organ-playing and his faded coat and his kidney-colic. Every errand boy was proud of him, and if he were not so unapproachable and morose he would already have been made to feel it.

The ten-thousand marks donation for the Dorothea Hospital had naturally made an excellent impression. His friend Sammet had told him (Ueberbein) that with the help of this donation far-reaching improvements had been undertaken in the Hospital. And for the rest, it had just occurred to him! Little Imma was going to inspect the improvements to-morrow morning, Sammet had told him. She had sent one of her swan's-down flunkeys and asked whether she would be welcome to-morrow. She and sick children were a devilish funny mixture, opined Ueberbein, but perhaps she might learn something. To-morrow morning at eleven, if his memory did not mislead him.

Then he talked about other things. On leaving he added: "The Grand Duke ought to take some interest in the Dorothea Hospital, Klaus Heinrich, it's expected of him. It's a blessed institution. In short, somebody ought to show the way, give signs of an interest in high quarters. No wish to intrude.... And so good-bye."

But he came back once more, and in his green face a flush had appeared under the eyes which looked entirely out of place there. "If," he said deliberately, "I ever caught you again with a soup tureen on your head, Klaus Heinrich, I should leave it there." Then he pressed his lips together and went out.

Next morning shortly before eleven Klaus Heinrich walked with Herr von Braunbart-Schellendorf, his aide-de-camp, from Schloss "Hermitage" through the snow-covered birch avenue over rough suburban streets between humble cottages, and stopped before the neat white house over whose entrance "Dorothea Children's Hospital" was painted in broad black letters. His visit had been announced. The senior surgeon of the institution, in a frock-coat with the Albrechts Cross of the Third Class, was awaiting him with two younger surgeons and the nursing staff in the hall. The Prince and his companion were wearing helmets and fur coats. Klaus Heinrich said: "This is the renewal of an old acquaintance, my dear doctor. You were present when I came into the world. You are also a friend of my tutor Ueberbein's. I am delighted to meet you."

Doctor Sammet, who had grown grey in his life of active philanthropy, bowed to one side, with one hand on his watch-chain and his elbows close to his ribs. He presented the two junior surgeons and the sister to the Prince, and then said: "I must explain to your Royal Highness that your Royal Highness's gracious visit coincides with another visit. Yes. We are expecting Miss Spoelmann. Her father has done such a lot for our institution.... We could not very well upset the arrangements. The sister will take Miss Spoelmann round."

Klaus Heinrich received the news of this rencontre without displeasure. He first expressed his opinion of the nurses' uniform, which he called becoming, and then his curiosity to inspect the philanthropic institution. The tour began. The sister and three nurses waited behind in the hall.

All the walls in the building were whitewashed and washable. Yes. The water taps were huge, they were meant to be worked with the elbows for reasons of cleanliness. And rinsing apparatus had been installed for washing the milk-bottles. One passed first through the reception room, which was empty save for a couple of disused beds and the surgeons' bicycles. In the adjoining preparation room there were, besides the writing-table and the stand with the students' white coats, a kind of folding table with oil-cloth cushions, an operating-table, a cupboard of provisions, and a trough-shaped perambulator. Klaus Heinrich paused at the provisions and asked for the recipes for the preparations to be explained to him. Doctor Sammet thought to himself that if the whole tour was going to be made with such attention to details, a terrible lot of time would be wasted.

Suddenly a noise was heard in the street. An automobile drove up tooting and stopped in front of the building. Cheers were heard distinctly in the preparation room, for all that it was only children that were shouting. Klaus Heinrich did not pay any particular attention to the incident. He was looking at a box of sugar of milk, which, by the way, had nothing striking about it. "A visitor apparently," he said. "Oh, of course, you said somebody was coming. Let's go on."

The party proceeded to the kitchen, the milk-kitchen, the big boiler-fitted room for the preparing of milk, the place where full milk, boiled milk, and buttermilk were kept. The daily rations were set on clean white tables in little bottles side by side. The place smelt sourish and sickly.

Klaus Heinrich gave his undivided attention to this room also. He went so far as to taste the buttermilk, and pronounced it excellent. How the children must thrive, he considered, on buttermilk like that. During this inspection the door opened and Miss Spoelmann entered between the sister and Countess Löwenjoul, followed by the three nurses.

The coat, toque, and muff which she was wearing to-day were made of the costliest sable, and her muff was suspended on a golden chain set with coloured stones. Her black hair showed a tendency to fall in smooth locks over her forehead. She took in the room at a glance; her eyes were really almost unbecomingly big for her little face, they dominated it like a cat's, save that they were black as anthracite and spoke a pleading language of their own.... Countess Löwenjoul, with a feather hat and dressed neatly and not without distinction, as usual, smiled in a detached sort of way.

"The milk-kitchen," said the sister; "this is where the milk is cooked for the children."

"So one would have supposed," answered Miss Spoelmann. She said it quickly and lightly, with a pout of her lips and a little haughty wag of her head. Her voice was a double one; it consisted of a lower and a higher register, with a break in the middle.

The sister was quite disconcerted. "Yes," she said, "it's obvious." And a little pained look of bewilderment was visible in her face.

The position was a complicated one. Doctor Sammet looked in Klaus Heinrich's face for orders, but as Klaus Heinrich was accustomed to do what was put before him according to prescribed forms, but not to grapple with novel and complex situations, no solution of the difficulty was forthcoming. Herr von Braunbart was on the point of intervening, and Miss Spoelmann on the other side was making ready to leave the milk-kitchen, when the Prince made a gesture with his right hand which established a connexion between himself and the young girl. This was the signal for Doctor Sammet to advance towards Imma Spoelmann.