He had colored under her glance; hastily he bent forward and took a cigarette from his case. Lighting it, he said: “You must excuse me, but you know nothing about it. This business was arranged a long time ago. I knew about it before I went away.”
“Achim, why do you say that? You would certainly have told me about it in that case.”
“I was sworn to silence.”
“I don’t believe it!” she cried. “This whole business happened suddenly. If you hadn’t quarreled with Dr. Schrock you would still be there shooting your rabbits, and there would have been no talk about a
“I’d rather not hear again,” said the Rittmeister menacingly, “that you don’t believe something I say, that I’m a liar, that is. As far as that goes, I can prove what I said. Go and ask the forester if a whole lot of men in Neulohe are not waiting only for the signal to burst forth. Ask Violet if there isn’t a very large arms dump hidden in your father’s forest.”
“Violet knows about it, too?” she cried, mortally offended. “And that’s what you both call trust! That’s supposed to be a family! Here I work myself to death, I humble myself to Papa, I calculate and worry, I put up with everything, I cover up your blunders—and you’ve got secrets from me! You conspire behind my back, get into debt, endanger everything, play fast and loose with our existence, and I’m to know nothing about it!”
“Eva, I beg you.” He was frightened at the effect of his words, and put out his hand to her.
She looked at him with fury. “No, my friend,” she cried angrily, “that was a bit too much. Kniebusch, a doddering old chatterbox, and Violet, a mere slip of a girl, plotting with you—but as for me, there you plead your duty to be silent. I’m not to know anything. I don’t deserve the confidences you give the other two.…”
“I beg you, Eva! If you’ll let me tell you …”
“No. Tell me nothing! I don’t want your confessions afterwards. I’ve had enough of that all my married life. I’m so tired of it all. I’m sick to death of it! Understand,” she cried, stamping on the ground, “I’m sick to death of it. I’ve heard it all hundreds of times before, the pleas for forgiveness, the promises to pull yourself together, pleasant words—no, thank you!” She turned toward the door.
“Eva,” he said, following her, “I can’t understand your agitation.” He was fighting with himself. After a hard struggle: “All right then, I’ll send the car back to Frankfurt this very minute.”
“The car!” she said contemptuously. “What do I care about the car?”
“But you yourself have just said … Do be logical for once, Eva.”
“You haven’t even understood what we’re talking about. We are not talking about cars, we’re talking about trust. Trust! Something that you have demanded for twenty years as a matter of course, and which you have never shown me.”
“Very well, Eva,” he said bitterly, “say precisely what it is you really want. I’ve already told you that I’m willing to send the car back to Frankfurt at once, although actually official instructions.… I really shouldn’t know how to justify it.…” He was getting muddled again.
Her eyes were cold. Suddenly she saw, as he really was, the man at whose side she had lived for almost a quarter of a century: a weakling, spineless, without self-control, at the mercy of every influence, a babbler.… He hadn’t always been like that. No, he had been different, but the times had been different, too—luck had been his, life had smiled, there were no difficulties, it had been easy to show only his good side. Even in the war. Then there had been superiors to tell him what he had to do, and discipline. Uniform, and everything connected with it, had kept him upright. But once he had taken that off, he collapsed, and showed that there was nothing in him, nothing, no core, no faith, no ambition, not one thing to give him the power to resist. Without a guide he had wandered, lost, in a lost age.…
But while all this flashed through her mind, and she saw that familiar face into which she had looked more frequently than any other, a voice within her whispered accusingly: Your work! Your creation! Your guilt!
All women who sacrifice themselves completely to their men, relieving them of all burdens, forgiving everything, enduring everything—all live to see their work turn against them. The creature rounds on its creator; tender indulgence and kindness turn to guilt.
She heard him continuing to speak, but hardly listened to what he said. She saw his lips opening and closing, and she saw the lines and folds of his face moving. That face had once been smooth when she had first looked at it. Alongside her, with her, through her, it had now become the face that it was.
“You keep on talking about trust.” He was reproachful. “Surely I have shown trust enough? I left you alone here for weeks, I put the whole property in your charge. After all, it’s I who am the tenant.”
She smiled. “Oh, yes, you are the tenant, Achim!” She spoke in ridicule. “You are the master, and you left your poor weak wife all to herself.… Don’t let us talk about it anymore now. Nor do I mind if you keep the car. Everything must be considered. I should like to talk it over thoroughly with Herr von Studmann, and perhaps sound Papa a little.…”
Wrong again! Always doing things the wrong way! No sooner was she gentler than he became harsher. “On no account do I wish Studmann to be told,” said he, beginning to be irritated. “If he hasn’t been called upon, there will be a reason for it. And as for your father …”
“Very well, leave Papa. But Herr von Studmann must be informed. He’s the only one who has a real notion of our finances and can say whether it is possible to buy the car after all.”
“Don’t you understand, Eva?” he cried angrily. “I reject Studmann as competent judge of my actions. He is not my nurse.”
“It is necessary to ask him,” she persisted. “If the
“Listen! I forbid you to speak a word to Studmann about the matter. I forbid it.”
“What right have you to tell me what not to do? Why should I do what you think is correct, since everything you do, everything, is wrong? Certainly I shall talk to Herrr von Studmann.”
“You’re very obstinate about your friend,” he said suspiciously.
“Isn’t he your friend also?”
“He’s a self-opinionated fool, a know-all! An everlasting nursemaid!” he burst out. “If you say a word to him about this matter, I’ll throw him out on the spot. We’ll see who is the master here!” he shouted, holding himself rigid.
With pale and unmoving face she looked at him a long, long time, and once again he grew uncertain under this gaze.
“Do be sensible, Eva,” he pleaded. “Admit that I am right.”
Suddenly she turned away. “Very well, my friend, I won’t say anything to Studmann. In future I won’t say anything whatever.” And before he could reply he was alone.
He looked around discontentedly. The lengthy quarrel had left a feeling of emptiness, of something unsatisfied. He had had his way, and for once this did not please him. He wanted to forget the quarrel—it had been an endless torrent of words, long disputes about nothing—and why? Because he had bought a car! If he could pay over twenty thousand gold marks in rent he could afford a car. There were peasants who had them. There was a peasant in Birnbaum who had a car and a tractor plow, and another had twenty-five sewing machines in his barn, just to have something for his money. Goods!
It was not as if he had bought the car for his own pleasure. He would never have thought of it had not Major Ruckert instructed him to get one. He had done it for the Cause; a thing she, however, couldn’t understand. And didn’t want to understand. In her dressing table there was a drawer at least a yard long and twenty inches deep, crammed with stockings. Yet she was constantly buying herself new ones. There always had to be money for that! He himself had hardly spent a penny for weeks, only the few cartridges which he needed for the rabbits, and the wine at meal times—but the very first thing he did buy, she made a row!
Soft and musical, the car hooted in front; his car, his brilliant Horch. Glad of this diversion, the Rittmeister put his head out of the window. Violet sat at the wheel, playing with the knob of the horn. “Stop that, Vi!” he shouted. “You’ll frighten the horses.”
“The car’s so smart, Papa. You really are the nicest man. It must be the finest car in the whole district.”
“It’s also pretty dear,” whispered the Rittmeister, twisting his head to look at the floor above.
Vi screwed up her eyes laughingly. “Don’t worry, Papa. Mother’s gone to the farm. In the office again, of course.”
“In the office? Oh!” The Rittmeister was annoyed.
“How much, Papa?”
