It had all turned out just as George had foretold; the kindly words which His Majesty had addressed to him at the American Embassy and the warm praise of his father, had not contributed towards improving his position in the regiment; on the contrary, it had made it worse. Scarcely a day passed but some one or other in George's absence talked about him and discussed the Emperor's remarks. Whatever had made the Emperor specially distinguish him, the only plebeian officer of the regiment? Even the colonel had had to be content with a mere handshake, the staff officers, not to mention the others, had scarcely received a glance; George alone had been addressed. Was it mere chance or was it really the report of the button manufacturer—as Old Winkler was always called for shortness—that had occasioned the remarks? And what on earth could such a manufacturer tell His Majesty which he did not know already? Old Winkler indeed was said to be unique in his Not a single "Golden Butterfly" had ever been commanded to attend at Court, except on the occasion of some great entertainment; then the regiment had appeared as a whole, and even this distinction had made them feel very proud. And now George was publicly invited by the Emperor to come with his father to dine at Court. It was well known that His Majesty frequently They would not have grudged any of their other companions the honour which had been paid to George. They would have regarded it as an honour paid to the aristocratic classes to which they themselves belonged. They grudged it George because they said to themselves: "If nowadays the middle-class is to be honoured in this way, what is there then for the nobility, who have done, and will do more, for Germany than manufacture trouser-buttons, which certainly have the advantage of being durable and cheap." Up till the present the officers had not troubled to take any notice of George. Now they turned their attention to him, and although he was always quiet and modest in his behaviour to his companions, and yet dignified without being proud, they became even haughtier than they George was perfectly well aware of the feeling that existed against him, and even if he had wanted to deceive himself in this matter, one thing would have opened his eyes to this fact. This was the condescending manner in which young Willberg regularly every week, purely as a matter of form, made his excuses for not having been able to return the £50 which he had been obliging enough to lend him. "I really do not want the money," George said every time; "on the contrary, I live so economically that I save money. I would gladly lend you a larger amount, and you need not hurry about paying it back." George noticed how very gladly young Willberg accepted the generously-offered help, for it was an open secret that he would not be able to go on much longer. Nobody knew exactly how he stood with regard to money matters. He did not gamble more than the others, but he had other expenses. In the eyes of young girls in Society, he enjoyed much distinction in George had gone home one day from the mess-room earlier than usual. He had received a letter from his friend Olga, a young actress at the Residenz Theatre, saying that she would come to supper with him. At first he had Soon they were sitting in the little dining-room, opposite each other at the charmingly decorated table, and George observed laughingly how she enjoyed the oysters and Pommery. "It is all very well for you to laugh. You have just come from dinner, but I have eaten nothing since three o'clock." "My dear child, go on eating. I am only too delighted if it is to your taste, and the more you eat the better pleased I am. And when you have finished these oysters here, there is another dozen outside on ice, and after that there is your favourite dish—stuffed artichokes." She clapped her hands with pleasure like a child; then she looked at him gratefully with her wide-open, dark brown eyes, and softly stroked his hand. "How good and kind you are to me." "Really, Olga!" He was almost embarrassed by the feeling in her voice, and attempted to joke: "Don't make fun of me, Olga. If the whole extent of my kindness to you consists She looked at him delighted. "Do you really mean it?" And when he bowed and drank her health, she said: "Do you know, I believe you. Indeed when I am with you I know that you are fond of me." Suddenly she jumped up, clung to him, and kissed him passionately. "But, Olga, my dear girl, your oysters will be getting cold," he said at last, as she went on caressing him. Laughingly she stopped and sat down again. Olga was a picturesque looking girl of medium height, faultless figure, a bright intelligent face, wonderful brown eyes and a charming little nose. Everything about her was petite. She had small hands that were most carefully attended to, and ravishing little feet. Her whole expression and bearing was sympathetic in the highest degree. Without being exactly clever she was amusing and bright. One could talk to her for hours together without suffering a moment's boredom; she could tell amusing stories and was always ready to see a joke. She laughed so heartily that the tears came into her eyes, and when she laughed she always showed her dazzling white teeth. One thing about her was especially "But, first of all, you must put out the gas, otherwise I shall be so terribly ashamed; you mustn't look at me when I tell you." Laughingly he had agreed to her wish, and then she had confessed: "I want a little gold watch tremendously." And when he remained speechless with astonishment at her modesty, she went on: "Don't be angry with me, I saw a perfectly lovely watch in a shop window for a hundred marks, but if that is too much, a cheaper one will do perfectly well." When he had carried out her desire, and bought her a costly watch and a gold chain, she had sat the whole evening with him without taking any interest in him, but playing with her watch, alternately laughing and crying for joy. At the beginning of their acquaintanceship she could not be induced to accept anything from him; for days he had argued with her, and only at last did she allow him to make her an allowance when he declared in the most emphatic manner that otherwise he would have nothing further He had been to the bank on her account this very day, and on his way back he had bought a pretty little brooch, which he just remembered. "Good gracious, Olga, I quite forgot something. Look, here's a little trifle for you." He got up and fetched the jewel-case, and enjoyed the delighted look that she cast upon the ornament. "George, you really ought not to give me such presents." "Oh, that's all right, I never give more than I can afford, and, like all my presents, it is paid for." She thanked him once more, then she said: "Do you know, I am really to be envied for knowing you? Don't misunderstand me, you know perfectly well that I want nothing from you and ask nothing of you. Once I know I asked you for a watch, and I am heartily ashamed of it, and if I had ever imagined that you would have spent so much over it I would never have mentioned it, for I would not have you imagine "But, Olga, I know all that, you have no need to tell me. You were going to tell me, however, why you are to be envied because we are friends." "Because you are an honourable man, because—well, how can I tell you. You see all my friends at the theatre have a patron and protector. But what sort of men are they? Men of the world in the worst sense of the word, who bluster and bully, contract debt after debt, and if they give a present it is not paid for; everything they give is borrowed, and that destroys all pleasure in receiving the gift. But everything connected with you is so high-class, straightforward, solid. Your way of living is like your character; one knows one can rely on you, that you are a thoroughly honourable and reliable man." Again George was embarrassed. "Olga, Olga, why these expressions of affection after so long an acquaintanceship?" "To-day is just the right moment," she replied, and then with some confusion she added: "This very day, three months ago, I met you for the first time." "Are you sorry?" She kissed his hand. "You—you—I—I am awfully fond of you. How could I indeed be sorry?" Then she continued very earnestly: "Now, now, Olga, take a glass of wine. Why do you get into a temper? Do be cheerful again." After a short struggle her naturally kindly disposition got the upper hand. "You are quite right. I cannot alter what has already happened, but still the lieutenant was a blackguard; you remember I told you he shot himself later, and that was the best thing he could do." "Don't be so hard, Olga." "Pray do not stand up for him," she went on angrily. "I know what you feel: that if a young girl accepts an invitation from an officer she must know quite well what to expect. But I was very young and inexperienced then." "But, Olga, I cannot understand you to-day. What is the matter with you? Why do you insult the officers in this way. You remember I am one." "Ah, you," she said tenderly. "You are not really one of them. You are much too honourable. You are a man, the others are stuck-up apes, and besides that, generally liars and betrayers." "Olga, I beg you with all seriousness to cease making these remarks. Whatever is the matter with you? Shall we stay here or go into the sitting-room?" he asked her presently. "Let us go into the sitting-room," she replied. She loved the large beautiful room with its splendid carpet, heavy portiÈre and the fine pictures. Best of all she loved the large comfortable leather seat in front of the fire, and every time that she visited George she meant to ask him to let her sit in that chair after dinner. She had never done so, because on every occasion, to-day included, directly they went into the sitting-room George drew out the chaise longue for her, put a cushion under her head, and covered "Are you comfortable, darling?" Again, from affection, she told him an untruth: "Simply lovely." He kissed her tenderly, handed her a cigarette, took a cigar for himself, and then sat down on a chair by her side. "You do live in a splendid way, George. You can't imagine how happy I feel when I am with you." "Because you are in my rooms, or because you are with me?" "Because I am in your rooms, naturally," she said teasingly. "Why ever should I care about you? You are an old cynic who does not deserve that I should like him so much and be so nice to him. Oh, you dear old silly, come here, and let me give you a kiss. Well, now, that will do, be sensible and sit down nicely and tell me what you have been doing lately. What parties have you been to, and with whom have you danced? Whom did you go for your cure with?" George answered and asked questions. Olga showed a real and sincere interest in everything that concerned him; he knew that he could entirely trust her, and that later, when they Olga listened to him attentively; many of the names of the people in Society were familiar to her, she remembered them from his former accounts, and she showed by her questions now and again that she was following him with real interest. Naturally she was most interested in knowing what the ladies wore, but she did not get much information from him on this point. "How can you be so foolish as not to notice these things?" she scolded him. "A woman is most interested in what another woman has on." "Or rather what she has not on," he said mockingly. The entrance of the servant put an end to their conversation. "A letter has just come for you, sir." "Any answer?" "The messenger did not say anything, he did not wait." "Very well." The servant disappeared and George held the note a moment in his right hand unopened. "Who is it from?" inquired Olga. "I do not know how it is, but a vague feeling tells me that this letter contains something unpleasant for me." "Shall I read it to you then? If I think the contents will vex you I will tear it up and never tell you what was in it." He kissed her hand. "You are a dear little thing, but I am afraid that won't do. Well, let us see what it is." He opened the envelope with a paper-knife, turned over the sheet and looked at the signature. A slight triumphant smile played round his mouth. "Ah, ha, Willberg, I said so!" Olga had risen and was leaning her head on her right hand; now she looked at George anxiously and expectantly. "Willberg, what does he want of you? You told me once how oddly he behaved to you. Why does he write you?" Instead of an answer George handed her the letter, and Olga read: "Dear Winkler,—Although I am still deep in your debt, and am no more able to discharge it to-day than I was weeks ago, yet I am forced once more to ask you for help, and that as promptly and swiftly as possible. To-day we have been gambling simply frightfully. I lost five thousand marks—four thousand to the Uhlan, on whom I wanted to take my revenge. I must pay this four thousand marks by to-morrow morning, otherwise I must leave the army. I do not know where to get the money from; you are my only means of salvation. You have so often offered me money that I feel quite sure you will not now leave me in the lurch. "Perhaps you will have the goodness to send the money along by your servant Fritz, your man, or any other human being you like. I shall stay at home and await your answer. I thank you most heartily beforehand for once more getting me out of a terrible scrape.—With sincere regards, yours gratefully, "F. von Willberg." Olga folded up the letter and returned it to George. "Well, what do you think of it?" "The letter is simply a model," she opined, "short, polite, and childishly naÏve. 'I have been gambling, please pay my debts. The man writes with a nonchalance and a coolness as if he asked you to take a glass of wine with him. Willberg is simply delicious." "Yes, you are not far wrong," said George, who felt somewhat hurt by the tone of the letter. "A young lieutenant, who has nothing in the world to call his own but an allowance of a few pounds, sits down with the greatest confidence at the card-table and gambles away a £50 bank-note, one after the other. When he has come to the end of his ready money he plays for credit, and when the game is over and he is deeply involved, he sits down calmly and writes to his friends and acquaintances: 'Please be so good as to pay my debts.' And if he knows that he can get no help from these sources, because he has already exhausted them, then he applies to any rich man whom perhaps he has only met twice in his life, and borrows from him with a naÏvetÉ and a shamelessness that is inimitable. He knows quite well that he must get the money somewhere. If matters do not go so smoothly as he anticipated, he becomes melodramatic, talks about leaving the regiment, abandoning the army, Courts of Honour, a bullet through his head, and such things. And there are very few people who are not moved when it is a question of saving, as they say, a young and promising human life—which in most cases is not worth the value of the bullet. And so they put their hands in their pocket and give the lieutenant what he needs to set him on his legs again and be once more an "And do you suppose that day will come?" "It will come when the world ceases to see in every man who wears a uniform a marvellous creature." "Then that will be never." "I almost believe you are right," he agreed with her; and then, becoming even more serious, he went on: "You know it's very hard on our lieutenants, for, au fond, there is good stuff in them, but they get frightfully spoiled and petted. Officers are forbidden to contract debts just as they are forbidden to gamble; but nobody "Every word, and you are quite right." "I only wish that other people would think so too," he said, somewhat amused; "but I believe that if one of the 'Golden Butterflies' had heard my remarks he would have said I was out of my mind, summoned me before a Court of Honour on account of my seditious words, and then I should have been asked, 'If you think like this, why did you become "But why do you keep it on?" George gazed at the clouds of smoke for a little while, then he asked her, "Are you quite sure, my dear child, you are not really bored with all this discussion?" "Not at all," she cried out quickly; "I could lie here for hours and listen to you." "Very well then, I will answer your question, which I have been thinking about for a long time, much longer than anyone would believe. The reason why I still wear the officer's uniform is, in my case, short and to the point—pride." "Pride!" she asked with astonishment. "You know, of course, how I have been treated in the regiment. I have never made Olga saw the deep furrows on his brow, and she noticed his intense emotion. "George," she begged in a gentle voice, "come here to me, let me kiss you, do not get so angry about these officers." "My darling, it is all very well for you to talk—not get angry indeed! To-day seems specially appointed for the revelation of all kinds of things which have hitherto been kept silent. I may as well tell you, therefore, that I suffer frightfully in my present surroundings, yet I am conscious of no other fault but that of belonging to the middle-class. If, indeed, these aristocratic gentlemen were free from all faults and failings, "Good gracious, George," cried out Olga, quite frightened, "I don't know you when you are in this mood; I have never heard you speak, boy, so bitterly before." "I am not bitter now, I assure you. What I told you was not said on the spur of the moment, but is the result of much thought and mature and keen observation. But now let us stop speaking about these serious things. I will just go and send off the money to this noble Willberg, and then, my darling, I am entirely at your disposal." He rose from his seat to go to his writing-desk, but Olga held him back. "Will you do me a favour, George. You know I have never asked you for anything important, but this time it is. Will you grant it me?" "Certainly, if I can. Why not? I am very fond of you." "And I am very fond of you; it is just because "My darling, how can I do such a thing? One must not pledge his word of honour lightly; you know perfectly well I would do anything for you if I could. Now what is it?" She had risen from her reclining position, and looked at him entreatingly, her eyes dilating. She was quite white from mental excitement, and her voice trembled as she said: "Do me the favour, and don't send the money to Willberg." He regarded her with intense astonishment. "Why ever not? The money is lying idle here, and even if I hadn't it myself I could easily get it. I have constantly offered Willberg my help; I must certainly give it him now. Besides, it is a great satisfaction to me, as you will understand, that he should have to apply to me again. You don't want to spoil my pleasure, do you?" And he turned to go, but Olga kept him back. "George, give your money to whomsoever you like—do with it whatever you like—it is no concern of mine, but you must not help Willberg. Do you understand? You ought not to help him!" She spoke with such resolution and determination that he went up to her and seized her hand; he noticed how she trembled, and a feeling of nervous excitement took possession of him. "Olga, you are keeping silent about something; you must have reasons which you are concealing from me, but I insist on knowing everything. When you ask me not to help Willberg, and tell me that I ought not to help him, you must also tell me the reason why." She looked at him with an expression of profound love. "Do not ask me, do not torture me, I cannot tell you." "And what if I insist?" He also had become deadly pale, and he held her hand in an iron grip. "I insist upon knowing—do you understand? You must not utter a half complaint, but you must have the courage to tell the whole truth. I have always considered you an honourable, faithful and upright person—don't show me I have made a mistake." A mighty conflict raged within her as she stood by him; her eyes were cast down, her whole body trembled, and she was swayed and tossed about by terrible mental struggles. Then she raised her eyes and looked at him frankly and openly. "Very well, then, you shall know all, but only on one condition." "And what is that?" "That you give me your word of honour not to tell Willberg a word of what I am going to tell you. There is no reason why you should not do that." He regarded her doubtfully. "Is that really so?" Then she looked him straight in the face. "Yes, but, in spite of this, if you are ever in a situation when you can no longer keep your promise, then I will release you after eight days—no more nor less; till then, you can quietly think over what I have to say to you." And after a little while she asked him, in a hesitating tone of voice, "Do you really insist that I am to tell you everything, when the result may be that we separate, and are never more friends?" A dark suspicion arose in his mind. "You were once on intimate terms with Willberg?" he asked with excitement, but then, more calmly, he went on: "But I could not very well be angry with you about that, for you could not have possibly known then that we should ever have met." Olga bit her lips in fury. "I know that only too well. I told you that the villain who betrayed me took his life soon after. That was not true; he is still living, and his name is Willberg." George fell back as if he had been struck, then he sprang up and seized Olga by the shoulders. "Tell me, it is not true—it cannot be true." She freed herself from his grasp. "Come, George, be reasonable; what has happened cannot be altered now." He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. "What a blackguard!" he said, gnashing his teeth, "what a blackguard!" "I am perfectly faithful to you," she answered him calmly, and he knew from the tone of her voice that she was speaking the truth. "I have only seen Willberg once since." "And when was that?" he asked, with great excitement. "On the very day that I met you for the first time. He sent me a letter, saying he must see me without fail on a matter that concerned my own interests. At first I did not mean to answer him, but when I read the letter again, I felt sure that it really was a matter of serious importance. So I named an hour when I would be at home to him. And he came." "Go on," urged George, as she was silent for a moment. "What did this honourable gentleman want with you?" "He said he had quite by chance seen us together one evening, and had followed us unobserved—I had no ground for denying my acquaintanceship with you; indeed, I could not, in view of what he had seen—and he entreated me most imploringly not to mention his name to you. I had never intended to do so, and had formerly made up my mind to be silent concerning his name, but, in spite of that, I "And what did he answer?" "He said that he must admit that he had not treated me quite fairly that night." "'Quite fairly'—that is splendid!" sneered George. "He knew that he ought to have given me some compensation, but he was not then in a position to do anything for me. Now he offered me one thousand marks, partly as hush-money for the future." "Did you take the money?" "Before his very eyes I threw it into the blazing fire, and rejoiced in his look of horror. After that he returned to the object of his visit. He begged me not to tell you what had happened. He and you were in the same regiment, I ought not disturb the friendship which existed between you. Probably you would not think he had acted quite rightly (so he said), it might lead to a quarrel. Such a thing is very disagreeable, especially in a proud and distinguished regiment, which, more than all others, must preserve outward appearances. And, besides, you could not fight a duel on my behalf. To cut the story short, I don't remember what else he said; I listened to him without answering a word, and the longer I was silent the more humble and pitiable he became, till at last he stood before He bent over her and kissed her on the forehead. "Get up, dear, why should I be angry with you, indeed? How could I hold you responsible for what a villain did, and it's not your fault that his name is Willberg? But he shall answer for what he has done." "He must not do that," cried Olga; "you have given me your word to tell him nothing about it, and you will keep it, for I do not believe that any occasion will arise to make me absolve you from your promise." He sank into a chair and looked gloomily in front of him. Had he the slightest ground for proceeding against Willberg? He might of course say to him: "I know a young girl, and am aware that you have treated her like a blackguard." Willberg could not possibly allow this For nearly five minutes George sat deeply immersed in thought, and Olga watched his expression with intense anxiety: her reputation, her career, were at stake. What had taken place between her and Willberg was known only to themselves and George; she had told no one about it; she had never mentioned the name of her betrayer. If George thought the affair ought not to rest with him, and that he ought to inform the Court of Honour concerning it, then she would be forced to absolve him from his promise, and the whole town would learn in a few days what up till to-day was a secret. She would not be able to remain in Berlin; she felt that she could never again face an audience who knew how she had been treated. "Well, George," she said at last, "have you yet made up your mind what you are going to do?" "Yes," he answered firmly, "the blackguard deserves to be struck in the face, but I shall not do that; I shall not say a word of what you have told me to anyone, not even to him, however difficult it may be for me. But I am obliged to act thus on your account, for I care too much about you to expose you to public discussion, public gossip, and probably to universal con She clung to him and put her arm round his neck. "Thank you, George." He led her to the chaise longue and sat down by her side. "Good God, what filth! There is just one thing I should like to know. Do you happen to remember the day—I mean the date when this—this—creature came to you and entreated you to keep silence?" "How could I not remember it?" she said teasingly, trying to restore him to a happier frame of mind: "don't you know I just told you it was the day after I first met you. Surely, George, you have not forgotten that!" He knitted his brow. "Don't be vexed, Olga, but my brain is in such a whirl just now that I simply can't remember a thing." She took from her finger a diamond ring which he had given her in remembrance of their first meeting, on which the date was engraved. Then she handed it to him. "Yes, of course, how could I have forgotten it!" He was suddenly thoughtful, and then he jumped up with a start. "What is the matter now?" she asked, frightened. "Nothing, nothing," he assured her; "I just remembered that when Willberg came to me for the first time to borrow money, he must have known of our relations. He had seen you, and yet he had the audacity to come to me. Now it's all clear to me; now I understand why he begged me so urgently not to say a word to anyone; he feared that perhaps I would tell you, and that then it would come out how he had treated you. Of course, that was it!" He strode up and down the room, occupied with his own thoughts. "George," Olga begged; "do me the favour of writing a few words to Willberg. Tell him you cannot give him the money, and then forget the hateful story." George stood still. "You are right; Willberg is waiting for news. I forgot all about that; and the forms of politeness must be preserved, however difficult it may be." He wrote a few lines, in which he regretted that he was not at the moment able to place the money desired at his friend's disposal, and then he sent his servant with the note. "One thing worries me," said George: "I do not know if I have enough self-control and strength of mind to meet Willberg calmly to-morrow and act as if I was not aware of his shameful behaviour." "Can't you keep out of his way. He is in "That is so, but of course I meet him at mess, and even if I do not meet him to-morrow I shall have to the next day, for we may not absent ourselves from the mess dinner for more than two days without an adequate reason. I fear that my blood may not be sufficiently cool by then." Olga thought for a moment, then she asked: "Cannot you get leave of absence? I should of course be very sorry not to see you for a week or a fortnight, but a holiday would do you good; you would enjoy yourself and have a change of thought. You could easily get leave, I should think." "That is so," he agreed, "there is not much doing just at present, and they could not refuse me leave of absence, but where should I go? Home? I don't want to see my father and mother just now. I could not be light-hearted and gay, and they would notice that something depressed me; my coming would upset them instead of delighting them." "I know," cried Olga suddenly: "You said just now you would like to enjoy your life. Go for a fortnight to Paris, to Monte Carlo, or anywhere else where it is delightful, and when you see beautiful women, give them my greeting, and tell them they are to be good and kind to you; I shall not be jealous." And then with a "I shall," he said firmly. "No, no," she answered laughingly. "I wager anything you won't." "But I shall have no chance of being unfaithful to you." She looked at him astonished. "How do you mean? For what reason?" "For the simplest of all reasons—you will come with me." "George!" Laughing and crying with joy, she flung her arms round his neck. "You will take me with you? I shall see Paris or some other beautiful town? George, you are really too good and kind," and she kissed him again and again. Suddenly she stopped. "What is the matter with you?" "I cannot go with you." "Why ever not?" "You shall not be able to say that I persuaded you into taking a holiday for my own advantage; besides, I do not know if I can get permission to go." "The first reason is absurd," he said. "I am not so sure if it will be a pleasure to come with me, but you give me great happiness by your company. Nothing is more unpleasant, at least to me, than to travel alone, to sit in a carriage by oneself, to have meals alone, to wander through the museums and galleries alone, "Yes, but—the rÉpertoire may be changed any day." "Dear child," he assured her, "your director is not a brute. To-morrow ask him to give you leave of absence, and if he makes any difficulties tell him you are prepared to pay two to three thousand marks' compensation if he will absolve you from a fortnight's duty. I assure you he will give you a holiday for as long as you like." She seized hold of his hand and kissed it gratefully. "How dear and kind you are. Do you mean you will pay so much money to free me from my engagement? But I can tell you I shall first offer five hundred marks, then another five hundred, and so on, but under no circumstances will I give more than two thousand." He laughed gaily. "You can do as you like as regards that. I will give you the money at once. Whatever you have over belongs to you, of course." She clapped her hands with joy. "I shall buy a very elegant travelling costume with it." "Don't do it, darling," he requested. "Whatever you need in the way of dresses I will buy you in Paris. During all the time that I have "Shall we really go to Paris?" she asked, with beaming eyes. "If all goes well, to-morrow evening. We will take my man with us. I can rely absolutely on his silence. You will get in at the North Station, I at the South. I will carefully examine the train to see if any of my acquaintances are in it, and I will have a carriage reserved for us, so that we may travel in state. And if anybody sees us together later on, what does it matter? And, besides, who knows us in Paris?" "Have you ever been there?" "Yes." He began to tell of the beauties and charms of Paris, and, tenderly clinging to him, she listened to his description of the delights which she was to enjoy with him. |