In a German Pension Part 9

Sabina ran into the kitchen.

"Here, take this milk and egg up to the Frau," said Anna. "Who've you got in there?"

"Got such a funny man! I think he's a little gone here," tapping her forehead.

Upstairs in the ugly room the Frau sat sewing, a black shawl round her shoulders, her feet encased in red woollen slippers. The girl put the milk on a table by her, then stood, polis.h.i.+ng a spoon on her ap.r.o.n.

"Nothing else?"

"Na," said the Frau, heaving up in her chair. "Where's my man?"

"He's playing cards over at Snipold's. Do you want him?"

"Dear heaven, leave him alone. I'm nothing. I don't matter... And the whole day waiting here."

Her hand shook as she wiped the rim of the gla.s.s with her fat finger.

"Shall I help you to bed?"

"You go downstairs, leave me alone. Tell Anna not to let Hans grub the sugar--give him one on the ear."

"Ugly--ugly--ugly," muttered Sabina, returning to the cafe where the Young Man stood coat-b.u.t.toned, ready for departure.

"I'll come again to-morrow," said he. "Don't twist your hair back so tightly; it will lose all its curl."

"Well, you are a funny one," she said. "Good night."

By the time Sabina was ready for bed Anna was snoring. She brushed out her long hair and gathered it in her hands... Perhaps it would be a pity if it lost all its curl. Then she looked down at her straight chemise, and drawing it off, sat down on the side of the bed.

"I wish," she whispered, smiling sleepily, "there was a great big looking-gla.s.s in this room."

Lying down in the darkness, she hugged her little body.

"I wouldn't be the Frau for one hundred marks--not for a thousand marks.

To look like that."

And half-dreaming, she imagined herself heaving up in her chair with the port wine bottle in her hand as the Young Man entered the cafe.

Cold and dark the next morning. Sabina woke, tired, feeling as though something heavy had been pressing under her heart all night. There was a sound of footsteps shuffling along the pa.s.sage. Herr Lehmann! She must have overslept herself. Yes, he was rattling the door-handle.

"One moment, one moment," she called, dragging on her stockings.

"Bina, tell Anna to go to the Frau--but quickly. I must ride for the nurse."

"Yes, yes!" she cried. "Has it come?"

But he had gone, and she ran over to Anna and shook her by the shoulder.

"The Frau--the baby--Herr Lehmann for the nurse," she stuttered.

"Name of G.o.d!" said Anna, flinging herself out of bed.

No complaints to-day. Importance--enthusiasm in Anna's whole bearing.

"You run downstairs and light the oven. Put on a pan of water"--speaking to an imaginary sufferer as she fastened her blouse--"Yes, yes, I know--we must be worse before we are better--I'm coming--patience."

It was dark all that day. Lights were turned on immediately the cafe opened, and business was very brisk. Anna, turned out of the Frau's room by the nurse, refused to work, and sat in a corner nursing herself, listening to sounds overhead. Hans was more sympathetic than Sabina. He also forsook work, and stood by the window, picking his nose.

"But why must I do everything?" said Sabina, was.h.i.+ng gla.s.ses. "I can't help the Frau; she oughtn't to take such a time about it."

"Listen," said Anna, "they've moved her into the back bedroom above here, so as not to disturb the people. That was a groan--that one!"

"Two small beers," shouted Herr Lehmann through the slide.

"One moment, one moment."

At eight o'clock the cafe was deserted. Sabina sat down in the corner without her sewing. Nothing seemed to have happened to the Frau. A doctor had come--that was all.

"Ach," said Sabina. "I think no more of it. I listen no more. Ach, I would like to go away--I hate this talk. I will not hear it. No, it is too much." She leaned both elbows on the table--cupped her face in her hands and pouted.

But the outer door suddenly opening, she sprang to her feet and laughed.

It was the Young Man again. He ordered more port, and brought no book this time.

"Don't go and sit miles away," he grumbled. "I want to be amused. And here, take my coat. Can't you dry it somewhere?--snowing again."

"There's a warm place--the ladies' cloak-room," she said. "I'll take it in there--just by the kitchen."

She felt better, and quite happy again.

"I'll come with you," he said. "I'll see where you put it."

And that did not seem at all extraordinary. She laughed and beckoned to him.

"In here," she cried. "Feel how warm. I'll put more wood on that oven.

It doesn't matter, they're all busy upstairs."

She knelt down on the floor, and thrust the wood into the oven, laughing at her own wicked extravagance.

The Frau was forgotten, the stupid day was forgotten. Here was someone beside her laughing, too. They were together in the little warm room stealing Herr Lehmann's wood. It seemed the most exciting adventure in the world. She wanted to go on laughing--or burst out crying--or--or--catch hold of the Young Man.

"What a fire," she shrieked, stretching out her hands.

"Here's a hand; pull up," said the Young Man. "There, now, you'll catch it to-morrow."

They stood opposite to each other, hands still clinging. And again that strange tremor thrilled Sabina.

"Look here," he said roughly, "are you a child, or are you playing at being one?"