“Impossible!” exclaimed the General.
“As good as granted.”
“We had a meeting only this morning; it is true we were engaged upon other matters, but his Excellency would at least—”
“He knows your dislike to the project; I repeat, as good as granted, and that ‘as good’ is at the present moment better than good. I implore you, my honoured friend, to listen to me patiently; the matter is of the greatest importance, not only to me, who have only an indirect interest in it, but more especially and directly to you. The concession will of course only have been granted for a harbour on the north, against which you have no immediate objection; is not that true? Good. Now I know for certain that, behind your back, there was to the very last moment a hesitation between the North and the East Harbour, and that the pressure used has only just failed in turning the scale to the East. I need not tell you by whom pressure was put; you know better than anyone the interest that Golm, who by the way will join the management, has in the existence of the railroad; and his connections in a certain region are better, very much better than I could have dreamt of. I tell you it only wanted the merest trifle. And just imagine, Signor Giraldi—I must mention his name now—has written to me today that the sale of part of the property appears to him advisable for the better regulation and easier administration of the rest; and that the Baroness—that is to say he—for here as everywhere he is the mouthpiece of the Baroness—will propose the sale at our meeting. Wallbach is in favour of it as he always has been; as a man of business I cannot oppose it; in short, the property will, as far as I can see, be sold. It is almost impossible, or at least most improbable, that Giraldi should know the state of affairs here, and that an eager purchaser is ready to hand in Golm. But if Golm sees a possibility of concluding the bargain, he will move heaven and hell to carry through the East Harbour at the last minute. And now, my honoured, my excellent friend, allow an old friend, of whose devotion you are aware, one word in confidence—a bold one if you will: you are not rich; Ottomar is extravagant; it is no small matter for Ottomar to see his portion with one stroke doubled if not quadrupled in value with the rest, and Fräulein Elsa will be richer in the same proportion; and if at the death of the Baroness they inherit the remaining half, and Fräulein Elsa makes a suitable marriage—with Count Golm for instance, to name the first that occurs to me—you may close your eyes—God in His providence grant not for many a long day—with the comforting reflection that the external well-being of your family is secured for all futurity, so far as man’s foresight can determine. Be wise then, my honoured friend. You need do nothing. You have only to refrain from opposition and give in to what you cannot prevent. Lastly, you must remember the good old saying: ‘Well to endure what cannot well be cured;’ which you will doubtless remember in your youth.”
The General had listened without a sign of the impatience that was usual with him when an adverse opinion was put before him; his brow had not clouded; there was even an unusually gentle, almost sad, tone in his deep voice, as he now, without raising his eyes, said, as if to himself: “I remember the saying well. It dates from the time of the wars, of liberation, and many an oppressed heart derived comfort from it in those troubled times, and many a broken courage has been supported by it. It hung framed and glazed on the wall of my father’s best room; I can still see my dear mother standing before it and reading what she had read a thousand times before:
“ ‘To triumph not in joy nor dread the storm,
Well to endure what cannot well be cured,
To do good actions and rejoice in beauty,
To love our lives and not to fear death,
Firmly to trust in God and a better future,
This is to live, yet rob death of his sting.’ ”
The General looked thoughtfully before him.
What an inconveniently retentive memory the man has! thought the Councillor.
“And look, my dear friend,” continued the General—and his eyes now rested so steadily on the Councillor that the latter, in spite of all his efforts, was forced to turn away his own—“according to the true meaning of the proverb and my own feelings it would not be doing a good action. Indeed, according to my own feelings I could no longer live, and should with justice shrink with terror from death, like a dishonoured coward, if, for the sake of outward advantage, were it a thousand times as great as it here appears to be, I neglected my positive duty and obligation, and did not resist, by every means in my power, a project the accomplishment of which I am firmly persuaded would be a manifest injury to our military strength, and an unprincipled squandering of our means, which we have the strongest reasons to be careful of. I have already nearly neglected my duty when I threw the burden of the report of this odious affair on Sattelstädt’s shoulders; although I knew that his opinions were the same as my own. After what I have just heard from you, I cannot do otherwise than bring forward the subject on my own responsibility at the board, and in any case
