Villa Elsa Part 19

Only small engagements which do not pay much and soon end. He has no money and what little we have to give with Elsa will not answer until he is permanently established.

"You see Friedrich is a courageous fellow and he is apt to speak his mind. You remember how he mimicked the military. My husband and I think he makes enemies by his impulsive temper. You know what musicians are. They talk right out. We think his enemies put difficulties in his way. And so nothing is settled. We keep waiting and here we are. Elsa wants to marry. She wants children!" exploded the artless Frau.

The abruptness of this confession in the matter-of-fact German way almost overcame Gard with embarra.s.sment. He recovered himself at length to ask:

"Does she love him?"

"Ach Himmel! does she love him? Haven't you seen her so dumb at times? But nothing comes to pa.s.s--and when will there be anything?

She gets her grumpy spells over these postponements--always postponements. You know young people are impatient. They don't understand such things. She wants to marry. Every young girl wants to marry and have children. I may die. My husband may die at any time. And she won't be settled for life."

The mother went off in a vigorous scene of upheaval. The slender and youthful Kirtley felt himself unequal to the task of trying to comfort her bulky person with its commotions.

"But what do you want me to do? Frau Bucher?"

"We all love America, Herr Kirtley!" she burst out. "Elsa loves America. Ever since that splendid Herr Deming came, we love America.

And we feel we can trust _you_. Young men ought to marry early. Elsa wants a decent husband and a decent little home. That is not much to ask. Of course we would hate to have her go so far away. But you have always been so kind to her. You have shown such interest in her. And what a good girl Elsa is! We have brought her up so carefully--and to be a good wife. She can cook and sew and keep house. She can play and paint, and also sing a little. She is strong, never sick, and can work--_work_. All you Americans have money. We Germans are poor. We can't give her much for a dowry.

Excuse me, Herr Kirtley, but you see I came naturally to you. Who else is there? We have made a son of you this winter." Then Frau Bucher almost shrieked out:

"And you can stay here _always_, if you prefer that!"

Full of her brave endeavor the mother bolted through the door without any ceremony of leave-taking.

Gard could not collect his tumultuous thoughts there in the room. At last the whole secret was out. Had she not foresightedly kept it so long with some such purpose in view?

Fresh air was the only place for him. He grabbed his hat to escape other fateful contingencies that morning, and made for the pine park where it was silent and cool. He walked hastily, with his hat off, along the path where Elsa and he used to stroll while conning together the pa.s.sionate lyrics of the pa.s.sionate Heine.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

A WAITRESS DANCE

He went on and on through the firs and hemlocks, on the right bank of the Elbe, then down toward the city. A mult.i.tude of convictions, reflections, impressions, flocked in his brain. After awhile he seemed to send them all scattering by exclaiming, "I'll be d.a.m.ned!"

They turbulently regathered. There was the sensual ape Von Tielitz--they would marry her to him. She could love him, polluted and swinish in the low sinks of womankind. There was the flatulent Jim Deming with his money--she could quickly marry him. And at last the ideals Gard had nourished about her had finally tumbled to the ground that day in her mother's crude offer of bargain and sale.

These Germans! They were outside the pale. They were the midway people between barbaric Asia and the civilized West. America, millions, pigs, morals, love, brutality, erudition, proficiency, obscenity--the Teuton race mixed them all up hopelessly, without rime or reason.

Gard walked and walked without realizing he was becoming tired. As he neared the city he burst out again with, "I'll be d.a.m.ned!" It was all the resume he could arrive at. He found himself finally hungry and made his way to Fritzi's little inn. He felt almost beaten out.

Was he really well?

The middle of the afternoon had come. There she was fresh, free, like a hardy wild flower. She trotted back and forth, curtseying, chattering, with her merry heels clicking on the tiling. The hot sausages and _Lebkuchen_ and a stein were hastened in, and she switched her short skirts down cosily on a bench in front of him to knit and look out after his needs. He had encouraged such opportunities for the practice of conversation.

"I've been looking for you to come in," she lisped.

"Why?"

"I wanted to ask you to buy a ticket for our Waitress Dance, and I did not know at all where you lived." It was a long sentence for her and she giggled.

"Number 5, Wiesenstra.s.se, Loschwitz."

"Gott im Himmel! That's way off."

"When _is_ your dance?"

"It's to-night. And it's only twelve marks." She fumbled out a ticket from beneath her white ap.r.o.n with a maid's agitation.

"I'll take it," said Gard.

"But you have to promise to go. They want every ticket holder to go."

"Are you going?"

"Of course I'm going. It's all us waitresses. And it's only once a year. The waiters have theirs twice a year."

"And are you going to dance?"

"Of course I'm going to dance. I always dance." She perked up her head with her young red mouth open in almost childish puzzlement, as much as to say, "Why, what are b.a.l.l.s for?"

Gard looked down on his fattening supply of smoking sausages and honey cakes. A servants' ball might be just the thing to cure his disgust with Loschwitz--with himself--with everything. He had heard Friedrich, Messer and Jim Deming exclaim enthusiastically about these popular fetes. They should not, it appeared, be missed if one wanted to see the real German nature let loose.

"Well, if you're going to dance, I'll go," he promised.

"You bet your life I'm going to dance!" Fritzi cried out in the Saxon dialect's equivalent as she sprang up, and wheeled off to wait on a new visitor. When she had served him she sidled back to Gard's table with a doubting, half-disappointed air.

"You're fooling me." She stuck her tongue out on her upper lip in peasant bashfulness.

"No, I'll be there as sure as I'm now paying for the ticket." He filled her fat hand with the coins which it could hardly hold. She went away happy.

The ball did not begin until ten, to give the young ladies time to finish their dining-room duties and dress. Kirtley went to a cafe and watched the billiards until after dark, then slipped out to Villa Elsa, jumped into his evening clothes, and slipped away again.

He had seen the royalty dance. Now he would see the common people.

This bustling about was cheering. He was glad to go.

The ball room was big, barn-like, with green branches and cheap flowers strung about. Ap.r.o.ns, napkins, table cloths, bills of fare, and other insignia of the waitress profession filled in the local color of the decorations on the walls. There was not one of the everlasting _Verbotens_ to be seen. Alcoves containing tables and chairs ranged around.

The entertainment was in full fling when Gard arrived. As the night was warm the doors and windows were open wide, and fully as many people seemed outside as inside. The throng included a number of students. The dancing was everywhere--on the gra.s.s, in the doorways, in the dressing rooms, on the stage by the orchestra. How free and easy compared with the Court affair!

Kirtley took refuge in an alcove. He fancied he would before long spy Fritzi. She would be the only person he knew. But she discovered him first. She tripped up to him with a green cavalier redolent of salad oil and beer. She was very proud to be able to claim Herr Kirtley for one of her "sales." Foreigners are always distinguished.

The music struck up again and off she was whisked without saying Aufwiedersehen.

She next came up hanging on to the arms of two dancers. More introductions. All were getting sweaty and thirsty. Gard invited them to sit and he provided Schultheiss.

Fritzi soon settled upon this spot as headquarters, twirling off into the figures and returning with different companions. She brought a girl whom she wanted specially to meet the Herr. The girls dived into the alcove, then out, back again, and hung about fl.u.s.tered, by turns bold or backward. They did not know whether it was proper to see that he danced. He was, of course, high above their cla.s.s, but if he didn't wish to dance, why had he come? Fritzi wanted to be polite but the situation was above her etiquette. He had been so kind as to buy a ticket, and how could he have a good time without joining in the festivities? The girls nudged each other, balked and snickered.

Gard saw Fritzi's awkward restraint and set her at rest by saying:

"I can't dance the German way."