Hildegarde's father was about to celebrate his sixtieth birthday, and the old major had expressed a wish to see his two children on that day. Fritz had naturally made use of this occasion of rejoicing as an excuse for asking the Warnows to lend him a good sum for travelling expenses; of course he had to travel first-class, and take his man with him, besides which he really must give the old gentleman a nice present for his birthday. So Captain von Warnow had once more given him a £50 note. Fritz, thereupon, had naturally tried his luck at cards, and he had the disgrace, as he himself called it, of winning a couple of hundred pounds from the owner of an estate in the neighbourhood; this did not often happen to him; he beamed with joy, and for the first time for many days he found once more that life was still endurable.

Hildegarde at first did not want to make the journey, she felt hurt at her father's letter, in which he wrote: "My dear child, I should, of course, be immensely delighted to see you, but my personal wishes must not be considered if there is anything important at stake. If you cannot come, or find it unwise to go away now for a few days, then stay where you are and strike while the iron is hot."

She did not want to go, for she foresaw exactly what would happen at home, but her aunt persuaded her to take the journey. Winkler was on furlough, so it was said, at Monte Carlo and on the Riviera, he was not returning for a week. There were no big entertainments before then, and in any case, if Winkler were away, there would be no object in going to them, it would only mean the unnecessary expense of new dresses. She had no desire to throw away her money on men who had no serious intentions with regard to her niece. And there was also another reason why Frau von Warnow urged Hildegarde to go; she wanted to be alone with her husband again and to be able to do something else during the week but worry and bother about her engagement. She was thankful that George and Hildegarde would be away at the same time. In a week they would both be back, and it was to be hoped that the matter would soon be brought to a happy conclusion. She felt perfectly satisfied that Lieutenant Winkler was deeply interested in Hildegarde. When George had announced his leave of absence to her husband he had requested most earnestly to be remembered to his wife and Hildegarde. It was quite irregular, from a military point of view, and it was just because of that that Frau von Warnow regarded it as a good sign.

So Hildegarde went home. She went by a morning train and her parents met her at the station. Fritz was expected in less than an hour, and so they stayed at the station. They went into the restaurant to have something to eat, for Hildegarde was tired and hungry from the long and wearisome journey on the branch line.

The waiter hastened towards them, and the proprietor himself came forward to see to their orders. The major as an officer, and more especially as a baron, was one of the great people of the town; he was indeed the only actual baron there, although there were a few more or less old "Vons," and thus he played an important rÔle in the little town, although his financial position was well known.

The major was the type of the retired military man, of medium size, well-built, a somewhat red face and enormous moustaches. His wife was still an extremely nice-looking woman, and one could see that in her youth she must have been really beautiful.

They chattered about matters of indifference till the meal was served, but Hildegarde noticed only too clearly how impatient her parents were to hear something about her prospective engagement; she tried to avoid a conversation on the subject, but was unsuccessful. Scarcely had the waiter brought in the meal, and been given the order not to come back till they rang for him, when they both drew their chairs near to Hildegarde. "Now, dear child, tell us all about it. Relieve us of a great anxiety. How do matters stand with you?"

Hildegarde parried the question; what could she really say? It was certainly very likely that George, when he had got to know her better, would one day ask for her hand in marriage, and that was the only thing she could say. But she read in her parents' faces such fear, and yet such hope, that she had not the heart to deprive them of their joy. Suddenly she thought of a way out of the difficulty. She briefly referred to George, and then spoke at length concerning another very rich man who had lately paid her an immense amount of attention.

"But, dear child, your aunt has never told me a word about this, and she always keeps me informed as to the admirer of the hour."

"Oh, that is what she does," thought Hildegarde. Then she said: "Mamma, I don't want you to write to aunt about this; oddly enough she hasn't noticed this gentleman's attentions to me, and I did not tell her anything about it. You know what aunt is; she means to do the very best for me, and in her efforts to help me, perhaps she goes too far and spoils things."

"And what is his name? What is he?" inquired her mother.

Hildegarde blushed scarlet. "Please do not ask me; I don't want to talk about it while the thing is still so uncertain."

"Quite right, my child," commended the major, "one ought not to talk about things until they are settled"; and turning to his wife he continued, "Do not press Hildegarde any more. If she does not want to talk about it you may be sure she has good reasons." Then he shook hands with his daughter. "Thank you, dear Hilda, that in honour of this day you give me this pleasure; two celebrations instead of one. Ah, it will probably soon be all settled"; and then he added, with a deep sigh, "But it's high time, I can tell you, Hilda, I could not hold out much longer."

Her mother also sighed and said gently:

"Hilda, you have no idea what terrible times we have been through while you were in Berlin. Just think of it, the municipal authorities were about to issue a distress warrant for the taxes, and your father had to strain every nerve to get an adjournment."

"Yes, indeed, that was a stiff bit of work, I can tell you, and if I had not been able to make use of my well-known name, God knows the fellow would have seized my last bit of furniture; those people have no mercy."

"None to the common people, at any rate," Hildegarde interposed.

"And they are quite right," affirmed the major; "the State cannot live without taxes, and if it were to take under its protection every working man and tradesman who is behindhand with his taxes, where would that lead to? We should soon run dry and have no money for soldiers, pensions and other important things. The State must be without mercy, and if it makes an exception in our case it does so because it knows perfectly well that it can do so; an aristocrat always does his duty towards the State and his fellow-creatures."

Hildegarde did not venture to contradict, she could not indeed do so without convicting her father of lying.

The major had finished his beer. "What a miserable drink this is for lunch, it makes one feel heavy and spoils one's appetite. What do you say to our celebrating this meeting with half a bottle of champagne?" His wife had no wish to do so. She feared the expense; but, on the other hand, she knew it was useless to oppose him, and, perhaps, indeed it would help to raise their credit a little if the proprietor of the restaurant said that they had drunk champagne and paid for it in cash. So she agreed. "Yes, certainly, but please let it be French champagne."

"Of course," said the major; "do you suppose I would celebrate the joyful news that Hilda brings us with miserable frothy German champagne?" and he called to the waiter.

It was on Hildegarde's lips to say: "Spare your money; you have no occasion to rejoice in what I have just told you, it was a pure fabrication." But she remained silent. Why should she worry her parents? Perhaps somehow or other a miracle would happen and it would all come right in the end.

"No, bring a whole bottle of Pommery," corrected the major; "my son is soon coming, he will also be thirsty, and it's not worth while beginning with half a bottle."

The wine came, the glasses clinked, and Hildegarde was asked to tell her news again. "Not here," she begged; "there is no more uncomfortable place to stay in than a waiting-room, and especially in a little provincial town."

"All fancy, my dear child, all fancy," her father informed her. "When I was a young lieutenant I was once stationed at a miserable hole which Satan, if he likes, may utterly destroy; at last a station was built, and day after day we strolled up there and felt as jolly and as comfortable in the miserable little waiting-room as we had never felt before. If we had not had that station, and had not been able to go to the station daily, I really do believe we could not have endured the life for long; we should have gone out of our minds. When we had done our daily military duty the day's work was over for us, then there was only one thing to be settled: when and how were we to go to bed? Should we go early and sober, or late and drunk? Now we had a higher object in life; we must go and see the arrival and departure of the trains, and we did this quite as conscientiously as we did our other duties. You can't imagine the joy when one of us by chance discovered an acquaintance in the train; whether he liked it or not he was hauled out of the carriage, and if we could not do it otherwise we used force. And once we had captured a guest, with much craft and cunning, we didn't let him go easily, I can assure you. He was, to a certain extent, placed under military supervision so that he could not escape. Our visitor had perfect freedom; he could do whatever he liked, only he must not go to the station. When at last he really had to go away, and when he had showed us most unmistakably that he really could not stay away longer, we only let him off by paying huge toll. Ha! ha! We were nothing but highwaymen; but, good gracious, what on earth could one do in such a dull hole of a place?"

The major liked telling stories about his life in the little garrison town, in which he appeared to have much enjoyed himself in spite of his grumbling and swearing. When he spoke of the days when he was a young lieutenant he nearly always began his description with, "We were gay dogs in these days," and then he winked knowingly and smacked his lips in remembrance of the jolly days when wine, women and dice played the chief part. Probably the memory of his life in the little garrison town was so delightful because, to a certain extent, it was merely an episode. Immediately after his marriage he had been transferred to Berlin and had taken a good position there because he was a thoroughly good-natured man and an excellent officer; his wife was regarded as the belle of Society. A great career had been prophesied for him, but one day all his prospects were ruined in consequence of an unjust criticism at inspection parade. The contemptuous tone in which the General, before all the officers, criticised the way he did his work made his blood boil, and he so far lost his self-control as to say to the General that, after all, he was only a human being like himself, and that he could not admit the justice of his remarks. This was more than insubordination, and the major might consider himself lucky that he escaped with dismissal instead of being punished. He left the army, but a little later the General was also dismissed; his methods of criticism had also not been approved of in higher quarters.

When the major began to tell of the days when he was a lieutenant he went on from one story to another, and though his womenfolk had heard them all over and over again, they listened attentively to him from affection; for he had nothing on earth to do but tell these stories of the gay or wearisome times he had had as an officer. If, as now, he had a little champagne by his side, everything in the past had a golden halo around it; when he sat at home with his money bothers he had not a good word for the whole army.

At last the train which was to bring Fritz was signalled.

The major looked into the bottle, it was empty; he turned to the waiter to order another one, when his womenfolk interposed. "Let us go home when Fritz comes, it is much nicer there; besides, we have to dress for dinner."

Grumbling, the major agreed. "Very well, then, I must pay." He looked into his purse. "Good gracious, I forgot to put in a five-pound note. I have not enough money with me."

"Oh, that does not matter, sir," averred the waiter; "the gentleman can pay when he comes next time."

Hildegarde grew scarlet, she felt ready to sink to the ground for shame; she knew the trick so well, she had been witness innumerable times when her father had forgotten the five-pound note which, as a rule, he never possessed. How had she forgotten about this for the moment? Never, never should her father remain in debt for a meal of which she had partaken. So she opened her purse. "I have some change, father. How much do you want?" And without waiting for an answer she pushed two gold coins towards the waiter.

"Ah, that's right, Hilda, only don't forget to remind me to give you back the money directly we get home."

The waiter was about to give her some change, but Hildegarde did not take it. "That's all right, keep the change for yourself."

They got up and went on to the platform. "Hilda, how could you be so foolish as to pay," scolded the major; "to-morrow it will be all over the town that you have come back with money, and in honour of my birthday the people will dun me for their accounts. One must either pay all or nothing. I cannot do the first, so I have all carefully noted down, and later I shall settle the whole bodily at one go."

Hildegarde was vexed at this way of looking at things. "What do you think about this, mother?"

The baroness shrugged her shoulders. "I should prefer to pay ready money for everything, but as we cannot do that we must adopt another method. But the people know very well that they will get their money." And drawing Hildegarde aside she asked in a whisper, "Tell me, pray—I am consumed with anxiety and I wonder your father has not yet asked you—what did the Warnows send as a birthday present?"

"Uncle sent by me a cheque for six thousand marks (£300) on the local branch of the Imperial Bank."

"Not more than that?"

"Oh, mamma!"

Hildegarde could not speak. She herself was more than humiliated by her uncle's kindness. She had reckoned up what he had spent in the course of years for her parents, Fritz and herself. It is true he was very rich, and in spite of his splendid way of living and all that he gave away he did not live up to his income; but his kindness had so greatly shamed and affected her that she had long ago declined to accept any money from him.

Her mother, absorbed in thought, walked to and fro with Hildegarde, whilst her father inquired of the station-master why the gate was not yet open.

"Now," she said, "I fear your father will be somewhat disappointed. I know that he secretly reckoned upon ten thousand (£500). Six thousand (£300) is, of course, a lot of money. Nobody must know anything about it, or people will try and get it out of us at once."

The arrival of the train brought the conversation to an end, and Fritz hastened towards his parents and sister and greeted them heartily. He was in faultless civilian costume, which betrayed the officer in every detail.

"How do you do, mamma? How do, papa? How do, Hilda? How nice that we're all here together again! We'll celebrate the next few days properly." He looked round for his servant. "Where's the idiot? 'Pon my word, these fellows get more idiotic every day. Ah, there he comes."

The servant, in plain blue livery, appeared, and Fritz handed him his luggage ticket.

"If you, thick-skinned brute, imagine that I take you with me for your private pleasure, then you have made a mistake. You are here for me, do you understand? And if you dawdle about here and don't do your damned duty, then I'll have you shut up in barracks for a few days and dismissed. Do you understand? Now, look sharp and put the luggage in the carriage."

"At your service, sir." The servant hurried out to fulfil his orders.

Hildegarde had noticed how the soldier had blushed when his lieutenant had rated him in this contemptuous manner before the ladies and the other travellers. She said to her brother, "Don't be so disagreeable to your servant. Probably he has been looking forward to the holiday. Don't spoil his pleasure for him."

"It doesn't matter to me whether the fellow enjoys himself or not. The important thing is for me to be properly looked after, and, moreover, I must beg you, courteously but emphatically, not to give me instructions as to how I am to treat my people. Do not interfere in things that don't concern you. Tell me instead how things are with you. Are we soon to congratulate you, eh?"

They had, meanwhile, taken their places in the carriage. The luggage had been put in, the servant mounted the box, and in a moment the carriage drove off at a trot to the villa where the major lived.

Hildegarde did not answer, and Fritz had to repeat his question; but he read in his mother's glance, which told him not to press his sister further, that all was going on well, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

After a short drive they reached their home, and a little later they joined one another at dinner. The major beamed with pleasure at having his two children with him again, and in honour of the day, and as a preparation for the morrow, they had the best wines and the richest food. After dinner they sat for a long time over the coffee and cigars. The brother and sister had to tell everything that had happened to them, the former in his little provincial garrison, the latter in Berlin.

Although the major loved his beautiful daughter dearly, Fritz was certainly his favourite; everything that he did was right, everything that he said was marvellous.

Hildegarde, on the contrary, found her brother, whom she had not seen for some time, more intolerable than ever. He was amazingly proud and conceited—the typical young officer who has nothing, is nothing, and yet solely on the strength of his uniform imagines himself to be a superior being. His appearance was as affected as his behaviour; the waxed moustache standing out proudly, the eyeglass which he never for a moment removed from his eye, and his up-to-date civilian's dress. He was really rather nice-looking, his figure was slim and elegant, and he had a fresh, open countenance, though somewhat unintelligent and expressionless, and he wore an affected air of boredom.

Of course he talked of nothing but his horses, his duties, his comrades, and this bored Hildegarde so that she got up on the pretext of going to rest a little. Her mother also rose after she had arranged with her daughter to pay some visits in the afternoon.

As soon as father and son were alone together it was: "What do you say if we were to drink another bottle of wine?"

"I'm quite agreeable."

The wine was brought, and for a short time they continued their former conversation, then they spoke of Hildegarde.

"Really, how handsome the girl still is!" said Fritz. "And do you think that this time it will come off?"

To-day the major saw everything in roseate hues. "Yes, most certainly. Hildegarde has two on the cards; one in any case will come up to the scratch."

Fritz groaned aloud. "God grant it!"

"Yes, Heaven help us!" assented his father, then he went on: "Well, now, as we clearly see deliverance before us, you need no longer keep any secrets from me, especially as you know quite well that I cannot pay your debts. I told you that directly you became an officer. I said to you then: 'Have as many debts as you like, but look to yourself for paying them.' Now confess, how much do you owe?"

Fritz was for a moment embarrassed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Why not? As I am not going to pay them you may be quite sure I shall not reproach you."

Fritz bit another cigar. "Taking it all in all, from first to last, it must be about forty thousand marks."

"And how long have you been a lieutenant?"

"Seven years."

"Then that would be at the rate of about six thousand a year; it can't be called a small amount."

Fritz shrugged his shoulders. "What is one to do? The life of an officer is expensive, and then one is not born into the world simply to perform one's military duties. One cannot manage on the allowance you give me."

"Another perhaps might—you cannot."

"I don't think anyone else, at least no one in my regiment, could; they are all in debt, some more, some less. I should say that 75 per cent. of all the lieutenants from time to time do confess to their parents, then a couple of thousands or so are paid—naturally each time they say it is the very last—and the son is once more on his legs again. Now, if one multiplies by seven the amount that the others pay yearly in debts, it amounts to a pretty big sum of money. With me the matter is somewhat more complicated, because I have never paid a farthing, and when one is in such a plight as I am one naturally has to pay very high interest. The last time, in spite of great skill and cunning, I received a thousand marks when I gave an I O U for three thousand."

"Still, that's something," laughed his father.

Involuntarily Fritz joined in the laugh, then he became serious again and asked, "How are things with you, father?"

The major smoked on furiously for a moment. "Don't ask me, my son, things are very bad indeed with me."

The old gentleman looked so full of despair that Fritz felt sincere sympathy, "Poor father, all will soon be better again."

"Perhaps so; but will you believe it, that in spite of the fact that I am not a man of prejudice, I cannot bear the idea of accepting money from my son-in-law, not only to pay my debts, but in order to exist?"

Fritz looked at him with astonishment. "I cannot understand it."

"That is because you are a young lieutenant, unmarried, and have no one in the world to look after but yourself. But consider me, I am an old man of sixty. For more than ten years I have been pensioned; at eight I entered the army as a cadet. I have therefore worn the soldier's uniform for over forty years, and during the whole time I have exercised and drilled recruits, done my duty on parade, taken part in three campaigns. And what is the result of it all? To be dismissed with a pension on which one cannot live if he has a wife and child. Pensioned off with four thousand marks. I ask you, what are four thousand marks to-day? Now, things are said to be better, the pensions are to be increased—well, let us say there is an addition of one thousand five hundred marks—it won't in any case be more, probably not so much. What then? Even six thousand marks are not sufficient to defray the household expenses of a family, are they? In a little town, perhaps, if one lives extremely modestly. But has one grown old, has one worn out one's bones for years in peace and in war, in order that in one's old age one must suffer one deprivation after another merely to prolong life? There is an old saying that the sweets of youth are not a good preparation for the black bread of old age. And we pensioned officers in our youth tasted mostly nothing but sweets. Certainly there were notable exceptions who managed on their allowance, who were economical and sober, but most lived in a happy-go-lucky fashion and enjoyed all the pleasures that were offered them. And what a position one enjoyed then, how one was fÊted! From one family to another, one dinner to another. They always gave us the best of everything, overwhelmed us with attentions, literally begged and entreated for our favour. And how well and luxuriously we lived at the Casino. We ordered what we wanted, and if we had no money we ran into debt. Then after this youth of amusement and gaiety comes sorrowful old age, in which one has nothing whatever to do, though that is not the worst part of it. Two things make old age unbearable; money anxieties and the position to which we are relegated. Who are we nowadays? Mere nobodies! The stupidest young lieutenant plays a far more important part than we. We are on the shelf, no attention is paid to us; we are either regarded as ridiculous figures or, at any rate, as objects of pity. And so after we have done our duty for years we can retire to some miserable little hole where we are bored to death or starve. For you can't imagine, my boy, the way in which the pensioned officers and their families live here, and, of course, it is the same in every pensionopolis. There is a groaning and a gnashing of teeth of which none but the initiated have any idea. How few of them ever have any opportunity of earning a few pence? People are apt to avoid the pensioned officer, not entirely without justification, and when he does try to get a post, how much can he earn as an agent or traveller for wine? It is a miserable life, a dog's life. Pour me out some more wine, my boy, pass me the glorious wine; we must gild the grey day, glorify it with wine."

Father and son clinked glasses and emptied them at a draught. Then Fritz said:

"You may be quite right in what you say, father, but how can things be altered? It has always been like this, and I suppose it always will be."

"Yes, as long as the officer plays the important part in Society that he does to-day."

Fritz looked up astonished.

"Do you then, as an officer, wish that it should be otherwise?"

"In many ways, certainly. Do not misunderstand me. I am far from wishing that the position of the officer should be lowered. In my opinion he must and ought to remain in the view of the public what he is to-day—a man belonging to the highest class of Society. That is necessary if we desire to maintain our army in the highest efficiency, as it still is—although for a long time things have not been as they ought to be—as it must be, and as it could be; but these eternal inspections, the fear of dismissal and the struggle for mere existence no longer permit of the careful military training of our troops. However, that is another story." Turning to his son: "Give me another glass of wine, these long speeches make me thirsty, but I must relieve myself once for all of what I have on my mind."

Then, drinking off the contents of his glass at a draught, he continued:

"Well now, my boy, aristocratic men should really form the highest caste in the land, but to do this they must be far more exclusive than they are to-day. People are always talking about the caste feeling of the officers, and it is solemnly trotted out when it is a question of excluding unwelcome elements from the officers' corps, or when an officer strikes a civilian with his sword, or whenever an officer fights a duel with a comrade or anyone else. When the cry is raised against them by the other classes the officers always defend themselves with, 'Remember we belong to the highest caste; we have our own sense of honour, which you cannot understand; our thoughts are not your thoughts, nor yours ours, God be thanked!'

"But how are things really with this highest caste? If they had their own special instincts and characteristics, their own ideas of honour, then they would not only appear 'first class,' they really would be it. They ought to remember the Emperor's words: 'The best society for the officer is that of the officer.' But it is just this idea that you all object to, and now I am coming to what I wanted to say. Consider for a moment the society of the modern officer—I am not here referring to low-class society—he has far too much of it; people run after the lieutenants, everybody who has a house invites you officers, and what do you do? You accept every invitation when there is nothing actually against the host which makes social intercourse in his house an absolute impossibility, and of course that is rare. Wherever there is the attraction of a dinner, a supper, an entertainment of any kind, where the food is good and the drinks plentiful, there the officers are to be found, and it is solely for the sake of the excellent fare that they visit these people with whom they would not dream of sitting down to dinner if they were not rich. To-day, alas! money in the eyes of the officers ennobles. That proud sense of honour which the highest class ought to have should not judge a man according as he is rich or poor, but solely as he is an honourable man. I have often enough noticed how even the old officers bow down to money, how they try to win the favour of the rich, how they give themselves endless trouble to get introduced into a family where a good dinner and a rich daughter is the attraction. Naturally, if an officer behaves in this way he lowers himself in the eyes of other people and arouses the contempt and derision of all thoughtful men——"

"But, father——" interrupted the son.

"Let me finish first what I have to say. If you have any right feeling you must agree with me in what I have already said. But the chief reason why the social condition of the officers must be altered is, that owing to the present state of affairs the officer no longer takes a pride and a joy in his military duties, and is forced into a quite false mode of living. If he goes night after night to balls can he next day be fresh for his duties? and if he daily swallows oysters and champagne at other people's houses, naturally he does not live at the Casino and in his own home as economically and as simply as he ought if he is to manage on his money and contract no debts. He ought in these ways to act as a shining example to other people, and be in reality, and show that he is really, a first-class man. I do not entirely blame the lieutenants, but Society, and, above all, the military authorities. These, in my view, ought to forbid their officers to go into Society so tremendously. Their warnings not to live beyond their means are not enough, and likewise, it is not much use to read out from time to time the stringent Cabinet Order: 'In order to decrease the love of luxury and pleasure it becomes the officers to give a good example by their economical and upright mode of life,' or some such words. The officers might assert that they are economical in the Casino, but then it is the rarest thing for an officer to be ruined by his actual extravagance in barracks. It is Society that is answerable for the lieutenants, Society which imbues him with the idea, the crazy idea I might say, that he is a creature specially favoured by the Almighty, who instil into him the poison of 'You are quite different from every one else.' Society drives him into making debts and living gaily upon them, just as the rich do. When you are an old pensioned officer as I am, without money or position, you will see and understand how Society sins against you by spoiling you in this way. Yes, and when one is a young lieutenant one is foolish enough to believe that all these invitations are meant as an honour to oneself personally, instead of, as it really is, to the officer's uniform."

"That's not always so," interrupted his son.

"Always, as far as lieutenants are concerned, I bet you any amount. It is well known to you that the late Emperor Frederick had signed a Cabinet Order commanding his officers to wear uniform only when on duty; on other occasions they were to appear in civilian dress. I will not criticise in any way this Imperial command, which is not yet in force, but if it were in force, one thing I can tell you—with one stroke it would have robbed the lieutenants of their social importance. The young girls would be bitterly disappointed, and the Enfeld Hussars would not then be in such great request. Now, after what I have told you, do you not see that the carrying out of this order would have been for the benefit of the officers in many ways?"

Fritz had been listening to his father with astonishment, and now he said: "But what sort of a life do you think we ought to live? Without amusements or social intercourse we could not exist, we should grow stupid and dull."

"Don't you imagine it, my boy," laughed the old man. "Confess, honestly, do you ever talk about anything sensible at these entertainments? You speak, and that is all, you whisper sweet words, or talk gossip to one another, but have you ever talked about one serious subject at any place where you have been to? You could not indeed do that, for you are far too stupid. Don't be offended at my harsh words, but I am quite right in what I say. No one, however, ought to reproach you with your stupidity. The majority of officers have been cadets, and what do you learn in the army? Drill, riding, how to judge a horse, manners and behaviour, but what else? What is added in the way of knowledge is not worth talking about, but it's considered quite sufficient for an officer. I have been in the army and I can tell you that I have often felt horribly, horribly ashamed when I saw how little I knew that an educated man ought to know. It is the rarest thing in the world nowadays for a young officer to go on with his education. If he ever does study it's simply military subjects, and except for this he is only too delighted when his duties are over to take his ease or to fill himself with alcohol, and I must say the last occupation is by no means the worst. Pass along the wine, my boy," and again the glasses clinked.

"Let me see, what was I just saying?" asked the major. "Oh, yes, I remember. Well, you see, your intellectual education ought not to be of a kind to make you long to go to entertainments and festivities; on the contrary, if you were better educated you would feel how boring it is to dine to-day at the Mullers, to-morrow at the Schulzes, and to dance about with young girls; you could easily dispense with the conversation, I'll be bound, but not with the dinners and the girls."

"But what do you want, then, father? I really don't understand you. Almost every week one reads in the papers of some scandal or other that has taken place in a little garrison town. Either two drunken lieutenants have boxed each other's ears, or have carried on with each other's wives, or there is some other addition to the Chronique Scandaleuse. And as excuse it is always said, with complete justice: 'The men there have nothing but the public-houses to go to, they ruin morals; if they had the society which their brother officers enjoy in the large towns these things would not happen.' We should simply die if we couldn't go to these little entertainments, and now you want to deprive us of them."

"I was not meaning that, I only want to alter them, to make them simpler, to reorganise the whole thing. To-day, when two lieutenants meet on duty in the morning, and one tells the other that yesterday he dined with such and such a man of wealth, the other asks, with deadly seriousness: 'Does he give one decent things to eat?' Then the first speaker, who is otherwise very proud of the fact that, owing to mental stupidity, he cannot learn anything by heart, rattles off the long menu, together with the names of the various wines! If an old staff-officer who knows how to judge good wine did this I should not object—the man has a right, I might almost say a sacred duty, to recognise with gratitude what the Almighty allows him to have in the shape of excellent wine—but when a lieutenant of twenty does this it is nothing but a vice to boast of. When people are young they ought not to think about what is put before them, they ought not indeed to know anything about it, but they are unfortunately being educated into gourmands and gourmets. Whenever a lieutenant is invited to dinner the lady of the house wrings her hands and says: 'We must not give this and that, it's not good enough; and if we don't give these fine gentlemen good things to eat they won't come here again, they are so dreadfully spoiled nowadays.'"

"It is, as you know, the universal custom to invite captains or staff-officers to dinner, lieutenants only to balls, but is the supper after a ball anything else but a dinner served later in the evening? There are caviare, lobster salads, pasties of goose-liver—I know the whole list—and one bottle of champagne follows the other, and that is the folly. No, not the folly, but the wickedness which Society commits against the young officers; you are so terribly spoiled that you become firmly convinced that a luxurious life is the only life; you see it everywhere, in every house you go into, and it is, therefore, not to be wondered at if you get false ideas."

"But how do you propose to alter Society?"

"In this way: In future it should not be simply a question of eating and drinking; the lieutenants should really have society; not only a huge supper. But, above all, in future the young lieutenant must be treated as a human being, not as a little god. He must understand that people do not stand on tremendous ceremony with him and involve themselves in expense on his behalf; he must be made to feel that he is nothing but a young man of good family.

"People must not overwhelm him with flattery; he must, of course, be treated politely and cordially as any other guest would be, but he must not always take the first place. When Society makes up its mind to do this then the lieutenant will become once more what he ought to be, but what, alas! he no longer is. His foolish self-complacency will vanish, he will again perform his duties with enthusiasm and delight; again will he live simply and economically, and he will then be no longer ashamed to confess, openly and honourably: 'My means do not allow me to do such and such a thing.' He will no longer run up debts, nor gamble, and the number of men who are ruined by their profligate lives will be speedily decreased. And when later he drops the uniform he will not long for the flesh-pots of Egypt as the present generation do; he will know how to live on his income, and then if, during his years of active service he were not worshipped as a second golden calf, he could endure to play an unimportant part when he retires on a pension. And the one thing more: If when he is an officer he understands clearly that he is not superior to other people, then when he takes his discharge he will not be ashamed and afraid of working, nor of adding to his somewhat limited stock of knowledge in order to get some appointment or other which will enable him to support himself and his family. He will consider it more honourable to live on money which he had honestly earned than on credit, or by running into debt."

Fritz looked at his father in great astonishment. "But what makes you take these views?"

"Why do I take them? I have always had them, though perhaps I have not always lived in accordance with them. You know what a situation I am in, and naturally enough I often ask myself who is to blame for it. I have thought long and much on the subject, and I have come to the conclusion: it is Society that spoils us utterly as it is now spoiling you, and then casts us aside as valueless directly we no longer wear the dazzling uniform. Society means well, but without wishing to do so it commits more sins against the lieutenants than it can answer for, and from this point of view His Majesty was perfectly right when he made the remark I have already referred to: 'The best society for the officer is the society of the officer.' I know this, that if ever I had been the colonel and commander of a regiment I should have said to my officers: 'Gentlemen, you must give up going all over the place wherever a smoking dish awaits you; I will give you a list of the families where you can visit.' I should have only chosen those where my officers could have had, first of all, nice, pleasant, friendly, social intercourse, and, secondly, quite simple suppers. Of course, as you can imagine, my son, the officers would have at first cursed and sworn, but later they would have been grateful to me. Bismarck used to say: 'Other nations can imitate everything we possess except the Prussian lieutenant.' The old statesman was right when he spoke. Would he be equally right to-day, I wonder?"

"But, father——"

"Don't interrupt, my boy," laughed the old major; "you are my dearly-loved son, and my joy, but would you maintain that you are the model Prussian lieutenant whom Bismarck praised?"

"Well, no, not exactly that," admitted Fritz, yielding, "but still——"

"Now be a good fellow, don't defend yourself any further. It's high time, moreover, for us to stop talking. I must have my afternoon nap. At six o'clock I am going to the club. Will you come with me?"

"Of course, Dad."

"Very well, then, good-bye for the present," and the old man went into his room.

It was not till supper that the family were all together again, and the men folk were late in coming. They had stayed longer than usual at the club, the members of which were retired officers who day after day argued and disputed concerning their dismissal and the advancement of their comrades who, according to their firm conviction, ought to have been retired far earlier than they. Fritz's appearance aroused quite a sensation in the little circle; they were delighted to see at lunch once again a lieutenant on active service, even though he was in mufti, and they were suddenly of the opinion that the ordinary sour Moselle was not at all a suitable beverage for the occasion. They ordered a better brand and chatted gaily over it.

The major and his son were somewhat silent at supper; the mother told all about the visits she had paid with Hildegarde, and as her husband was in an amiable frame of mind she thought this would be a favourable moment for him to bear the disappointment of learning that the Warnows had only sent him six thousand marks. So she told him about it, and also that she had changed the cheque in the bank.

"Well, it's not much, certainly, but it's something," averred the major. "Let me have the money."

His wife objected. "Let me keep it till to-morrow, then we will talk over things quietly and consider whom we must pay."

"Paying is all very well," said Fritz, "but surely you wouldn't be so stupid, now that you have a few pence in your pockets, to fling them away again. If you pay one person all the others will come running to the house to-morrow, in honour of the Dad's birthday. Whoever would be so stupid as to pay debts?"

His father quite agreed with him. "Fritz is right, Fritz is a sensible fellow. The crew have waited all this time for their money and can certainly wait a few weeks longer until Hilda is engaged. To your health, Hilda!"

Fritz also raised his glass. "Long life to your future husband! By the way what's his name? Not that it matters; the thing is, he has money."

But Hildegarde did not lift her glass, she would like to have got up from the table, she could not bear the way they talked about her, and she could hardly refrain from bursting into tears. What would George think if he knew how they drank his health and how they only thought of his money and not of himself?

"Well, if you won't drink with us, leave it alone," said Fritz, and emptied his glass.

The major returned to the subject of the money. "My dear, with that money we might really have a nice little holiday; for three years we have not stirred from this miserable hole. We would leave two thousand marks at home, so that when we returned we were not penniless, and the rest we would take with us and go for a few weeks to Italy."

The idea was very agreeable to his wife, but she said, however, "Later, perhaps, when Hilda is engaged. Remember the engagement may take place any day, and we must be here to receive the dear man with open arms."

"We will do that, certainly," said the major, "we'll embrace him. He will be astonished how affectionately we hold him, won't he, Fritz?" And turning to his wife he went on: "Just imagine, mother, that rogue Fritz is forty thousand marks in debt." And he burst out laughing at his son.

His mother clasped her hands, horrified. "But Fritz, how is that possible?"

And, Hildegarde, astounded, burst out: "What on earth do you do with the money from home that uncle sends you?"

"'Ask the stars that all things know,'" Fritz began to hum, but he could not recollect the tune, so he only hummed a couple of inarticulate notes.

It was long before his mother recovered her composure. "It is really frightful; it is to be hoped that Hildegarde's fiancÉ will pay your debts also later. But supposing he doesn't, what are you going to do?"

"Shoot myself. But he'll soon pay up, I'll see to that all right."

"If you only had been something else but an officer," lamented his mother; "it's madness for a man who has no money to enter the army."

"I quite agree with you," said Fritz; "but what's the use of lamenting? It's too late now, you should have thought of that before, when you sent me to the Military College. I wasn't asked."

"You are quite right. The rascal is reproaching us now," laughed his father.

"I didn't mean that at all, father. I have a very good time as a lieutenant; besides, I don't know what else I could have been. But you know, being a lieutenant has its drawbacks; one is never free from money difficulties, and then there is the constant fear of getting one's discharge much earlier than one expects. It's a horrible feeling. I really can't understand why fathers let their sons go into the army, and least of all can I understand why retired officers always do it. The old officers, you, father, most of all, and those whom I met to-day at the club, are always complaining of the injustice of being pensioned off so early; they lament that the army is no longer what it once was; they groan over their tiny pensions and their bodily ills, the results of long years of campaigning; they swear at the allowance they are obliged to make their sons. They know perfectly well, however, that he cannot manage on it, and that he, therefore, contracts debts; they know that, at best, their son will only be a staff-officer, and that then till his death he will lead the same miserable, embittered life as they have. And alas: they also know how a mistake on duty, a mis-spent evening, an impulsive blow may ruin a young soldier, and although they know all this they let him become a soldier. And when one day the young officer is at the end of his tether and has to leave the army, then there is lamentation and grieving, and, of course, no one is to blame but the son."

"Everybody wouldn't find things as bad as you do," interposed the major.

"You are right, but I am not speaking about myself, but of things in general. In my regiment it happens we are nearly all the sons of retired officers and I am constantly hearing one or other of them complaining: 'Why on earth didn't my father let me be something else, as he must know I can't possibly manage on the small allowance he gives me?' Why do these old officers always send their sons to a military college in spite of all there is against it? Because it is cheap, and it is so very convenient to get the young rascals educated in that way. Do you suppose that in the future the retired officers would take it quite so much as a matter of course that their sons should go into the army if they had to pay four or five hundred marks a year at college instead of eighty, besides providing them with clothes? They would not think any more about it. But now it's a simple matter: 'Let the boy be educated cheaply, that's the thing, we can attend to other things later on.' Privately they always reckon upon an old uncle or aunt, and when one day they 'strike' or die, then the lieutenant is in a fix and gets into debt, or he is expected to live upon air. People always talk about the foolish lieutenants, but what about the foolish parents who, to save themselves the expense of educating them, let them adopt a profession in which it is impossible to earn any money and the temptation to spend it is tremendous."

"Very well delivered," said his father; "but if the officer has no money to get his son properly educated, as was the case with me, what is he to become?"

"Fritz ought to have been put into business," declared Hildegarde. "If a man has no means he should choose a career in which he can make money."

"In theory that is very beautiful and quite true," answered Fritz; "and if many fathers were as wise as you, my charming sister, it would be better for our officers. These first-class men, as father called them a little while ago, would not run around and beg and borrow and get credit, and try their luck at cards in order to try and keep their heads above water until they find a rich wife or are ruined."

The major had listened to his son very attentively, now he said: "I am astonished that you, an officer's son, should talk in this way. Who, according to your theory, should supply the army with officers if not we?"

"First of all, only those parents who have the financial means to provide for their sons' future; and then no one ought to be made an officer unless he has real enthusiasm and love for his profession and is willing, if need be, to make sacrifices and bear deprivations for its sake. But you cannot expect that a kid who is sent to a college at eight should know if he has any real liking for the work of a soldier. He ought not to choose a profession until he is able to judge for himself to a certain extent; a father ought not to send his son into the army from motives of economy, or God knows what other reasons, and then demand of him that he should be a model of steadiness and conscientiousness. I know that if I had anything to say in the matter I should abolish the Cadet Colleges."

"Ho! ho!" burst out the major, "you are becoming worse and worse."

"It will have to be," continued Fritz. "You yourself pointed out to me a little while ago that we do not learn nearly enough at college, but quite apart from that there is another drawback; we go into the army too young, we are made officers in two years. Lieutenants of eighteen and nineteen are by no means rare, and we are suddenly given a position which no one else enjoys at that age. We get the control of money too early without ever having learnt how to manage it. Just think of the life at a military college, how we are watched and protected! One dare not smoke or drink beer or go out without being invited. One has to say how long one stayed with one's relatives——"

"But that is all very right," interposed Hildegarde.

"It may be, but it may not be: the transition to the other kind of life is too sudden, too quick. Twenty-four hours after one has left this college one is an ensign, and then all at once he enjoys that complete liberty against which he was so zealously guarded but a short time ago. One can eat and drink what one likes, one can go where one will, in short, one can enjoy all the pleasures of life at one go off. And so one easily oversteps the limits and does all sorts of stupid things in the joy of having escaped such strict surveillance. And who can blame an ensign for this? The young ensign gets accustomed to leading an idle life, and this continues when he becomes a lieutenant, only very few having the energy to alter. We were lately looking over the Army List to see how many of our contemporaries at college were still in the army, and we were simply astonished to find how many had vanished. The education at the Cadets' College is answerable for this—that alone. At nineteen a man is an officer, at three-and-twenty he gets his discharge; that happens more often than people believe, and that shows clearly that the cadets at college have not learnt the one thing properly that they ought to have learnt—to control themselves and to live as officers in a suitable manner. At college far too much stress is laid upon drill, exercise, lessons and other things, and not nearly enough on the education of the youthful mind. There is no education of the individual, of the character; it's all done en bloc, and the college can never take the place of the home; what the child sees and hears and learns unconsciously there, is worth a thousand times more than what is so stringently imparted to him at college."

"But how can it be altered?" asked the major, who was deeply interested in the conversation. The ladies, meanwhile, had risen from the table and taken their needlework.

"I do not know," acknowledged Fritz, "but some means may be found. The Cadets' Colleges must, as I have said, be abolished, and every officer must have passed his matriculation, as was formerly the case in the Marines. There should be a limit of age; in my opinion it should be twenty, and then a man could not be a lieutenant till he was two-and-twenty; that is quite early enough, if after that age was no more taken into account. The age limit must be abolished. To-day no one who has not reached a certain rank by a certain age has any chance of making a career for himself. What is the object of keeping the army so young by all possible means? As a result of this, every year hundreds and hundreds of men have to seek for posts of all kinds. New elements, new officials, new views are introduced, and this does not tend to facilitate the training of the troops. If a man is lieutenant at twenty-two he can be a captain at five-and-thirty, a major at forty-four, and a colonel at eight-and-forty. Surely that is young enough, isn't it? And if he distinguishes himself in any way he can get his promotion earlier."

"And would that make for efficiency in time of war?"

"You can answer that better than I can. You were pensioned as a complete invalid, but in spite of this were you not at your discharge quite young enough and active enough to have done duty on the field?"

"Yes, and no," grumbled the major. "I will explain what I mean. The chief army doctor worried round me for a long time, but he could find no wound for which he could write a certificate, so I assisted him a little and mentioned injuries which I did not possess, and then it was all right. But I could easily have held out for five—no, ten years. Go into a pension office in any large town and look at the innumerable officers who go there regularly at the first of each month to draw their pension—a few miserable pounds. They are all 'complete invalids,' or who have been pensioned on account of their age. Yet health and energy are to be read in their faces."

"That is just what we all say," put in Fritz. "We have been lately talking about these things in the Casino; nothing of much value is said, still it is interesting what the different officers think about these matters. We are unanimous in wanting to abolish the military college. Every lieutenant must have passed his matriculation and no one can be an officer before he is one-and-twenty; if we once have that, there will be a great alteration in the army."

There was a long pause; the major was ruminating over what Fritz had just said, then he said: "In many ways you have really most sensible ideas."

"That is what I think," Hildegarde chimed in; "I must compliment you, Fritz. When I hear you speak so seriously, and with so much knowledge, I can hardly recognise you as my gay and frivolous brother."

Fritz bowed to his sister. "Very much obliged. Yes, I have at intervals my lucid moments, they tell me that in the regiment; but, alas! these mental illuminations are but rare. My mental darkness only disappears when I have drunk a good deal of wine; then I begin to think. I haven't courage at other times. From such occasions I recognise that I am a social democrat."

"But, Fritz——"

"Well, that is good! You a lieutenant and a social democrat——"

"Calm yourselves," implored Fritz. "I have not sworn brotherhood with Bebel. When I say I am a social democrat I don't, of course, mean that I have subscribed to the programme of that party, though I must say the division of property would suit me well, provided I got a good thing out of it! I only meant to say that I am a dissatisfied aristocrat, and so are we all, from the colonel down to the youngest lieutenant. One can't say as much as one would like to, because naturally one has to remember the uniform one wears, but soon there will be complaints enough, I can assure you, not only in our regiment but in all."

"It was certainly not like that in my time," lamented the major; "discussions we had often, of course, but——"

"Formerly things were very different, father. Formerly everybody got his majority, now one may remain a first lieutenant for ever and be transferred to a district command or some such thing. Formerly it really was a day of honour and rejoicing when there was an inspection by those high in authority, but what happens now? Everybody trembles for weeks before it takes place, and for weeks afterwards, in the fear that someone may get his discharge as a result of it. There used to be a three-years' service, now the men have to get through the same amount of work and drill in two years, and the military and extra-military duties of to-day are not to be compared with those of ten years ago. Ah, and the money question! I am not thinking of myself, I am an extravagant dog, but now and again someone attempts to live on his allowance and the authorities do all they can to put obstacles in his way. Now it's a festival, now a guests' day, a birthday celebration, a garden entertainment and ladies invited, the jubilee of the regiment, a farewell dinner; even if a man wants to be steady and economical he can't get out of the champagne—he simply must drink with the others. Whether in former times you used so much of your pay for presents, flowers, Casino subscriptions, and a thousand and one other things, that I don't know. And then, the expense of one's clothes; why, I believe I owe my tailor alone five thousand marks. There's always some new fashion or other; new cloaks, different caps, coats, new buttons, new scarves, and all the rest of it. And who has to pay for all this? Why, the officer, of course. And where does he get his money from? Of course that's his own business. On the one hand we are warned to be steady and not fling away our money, and on the other we are always being dragged into fresh expenses. It will all have to be altered, or in ten years' time our officers will be ten times more heavily in debt than even to-day. You, father, to-day were blaming Society because we lived beyond our means, but we officers blame the authorities. There must always be money for regimental purposes, but nobody troubles how we live, and then when we get into debt there's a devil of a row and we are bound to pay up within three days. On such occasions we are threatened with dismissal, of which the colonel also runs the risk because he was not strict enough in preventing us from getting into debt. That is what happened to me lately. I owed the Casino four hundred marks, and had to face the alternative of paying within four-and-twenty hours or undergoing five days' arrest; naturally I paid, and the colonel was satisfied. It didn't occur to him to ask where I had got the money from."

"And where did you get it from?"

"Borrowed it from the Jews, of course. I am not a magician and cannot get money from the air. It's so ridiculous. One is forced to contract new debts in order to pay off the old ones which comes to the colonel's ears."

"Does your colonel know that you have debts?"

"Of course he knows, though, probably, he does not guess how deeply I am involved. He says to himself, 'What I do not know does not concern me. I need not trouble about things which are not officially brought to my notice.' His own future and his career are of far more importance to him than mine. He doesn't really care if I go to the devil or not; but if I do go he may go also; so he not only shuts both eyes, but also both ears. He doesn't want to see or hear anything, for, of course, he knows perfectly well that I am not the only one. If he takes action against one, he would have to against the others, and he doesn't want to do that. He wants to become a general; his successor can see about the officers who are in debt."

It was late when they went to bed. The father and son would have preferred to go on talking all through the night, but the women folk urged an adjournment; they must remember to-morrow was the day of the festivity which would bring in its train a great deal of exertion, visits, and congratulations of all kinds.

But, alas! the day of rejoicing was not such as had been expected. It got about that Hildegarde had changed a cheque in her father's name, and the news spread like lightning through the little town. Everybody who knew of this and had any claim on the major determined to go early in the morning, if possible, so as to be the first, and ask him to pay his account which had been owing for ages.

They were taking their early cup of coffee when the tradesmen were announced. The major knew what was before him and cursed and swore like mad.

"That's what happens when you women interfere in money matters. How could you be so stupid as to change a cheque, even if only one person was standing by and saw you? And why was it a cheque at all? Can't the Warnows pay the miserable few thousands (hundreds) in cash? Nobody would then have heard of it; but now I am obliged to pay out some of the money. But," he roared out suddenly, "I won't do it at all. I did not think to have my sixtieth birthday spoilt by that shameless crew. I'll see them all to the devil first."

"Shall I go and talk to these people?" asked Fritz. "I have great experience in these things, and I can safely say that no one has ever got anything from me. I can't understand, father, why you get so excited over such trifles. Now, let me go and try what I can do."

He was about to go out of the room, but his mother kept him back.

"That won't do, Fritz. You don't know how often the bailiff from the court has been here. Things have gone so far—I mean—well, you will have to know it—up till now he has only sealed some of our furniture and has not sold any; but if the authorities hear that we really have money he will have to sell us up. He told us that, and we wanted to spare papa that to-day."

"Above all things, certainly." Fritz had become serious, and involuntarily he looked round to see the seals.

"He has only put on seals where they could not be seen," the mother whispered to her son; "on the carpets, the piano, the bookshelf, the pictures—briefly, all the things that stand against the walls. Oh, it's frightful!" and she began to cry.

"Yes, that's right, cry!" roared the major. "Formerly on one's birthday one was serenaded; now, when one is old and grey, one's wife weeps because there is no money and the creditors are outside the door. A man must live to be sixty to enjoy such an honour."

He stamped to and fro cursing, listening from time to time to the people who were in the vestibule waiting for him. Suddenly he stood in front of Hildegarde and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Eh, Hilda, you see we cannot wait much longer for your lover. Bring him soon, before it is too late, before that rascally crew has taken everything and sold us up and I and your mother are cast into the street."

His words expressed such bitterness and such despair that Hildegarde forgot all about her own feelings and how she was looked upon as deliverer, and in grief for her parents she burst into tears.

"Number two," scolded the major. "That's right."

"Don't be unjust, father. You can't blame mother and Hildegarde for being sad. The affair is more than unpleasant to me even."

"Then you had better begin and cry," cursed the old man, whose veins stood out on his forehead.

"I am not thinking of myself but how these people can be satisfied in some way or other. I did not know that any of the furniture was sealed. You ought to have told me so." After a slight pause he asked, "How much is it for?"

"Only two thousand marks."

"This must be paid first of all, and this very day."

"Oh, I don't think so. The seals have been all right there for a long time."

"In spite of that the two thousand marks must be paid," continued Fritz with determination and energy, "and if you cannot pay it I must. I lately won a few thousands at cards, and I will give you a couple."

The major stared at his son. "And what is the reason of this generosity, may I ask?"

"Consideration for myself and Hildegarde. If it were conceivable that it should ever be known in my regiment how matters stood with you here, I should not only lose my position, but also my credit, and that might have consequences which would not be pleasant for either of us. And one must consider Hildegarde. Just imagine if in the next few weeks, or perhaps in the next few days, Hilda's prospective lover were to pay you a visit and by some unfortunate chance caught sight of the seals. The fellow would have to be a downright idiot if this did not open his eyes to the fact that he was only being married for his money. And this knowledge must not come before the marriage, it must be prevented at all cost. If you can't do this I must."

The major had sunk into a chair and was gazing gloomily in front of him, the two ladies were softly crying.

Fritz got up and went to his mother. "I will go and talk to these people. Will you give me the six thousand marks, it can't be helped."

"The dear money!" The major groaned; for the first time for many a day he had been able to sleep the whole night through without being awakened by anxious thoughts. The consciousness of having six thousand marks in the house in cash had filled him with great joy and given him a feeling of tranquillity and security. And now the people stood outside who were to take his money from him.

"Fritz," he said, turning to his son, "you promise me to do the best you can with these people. Don't pay it all away or we shall not have any money in the house."

"I can manage with the housekeeping till the first," the mother said; "I have still a hundred marks."

"And I can give you another hundred, mamma," put in Hildegarde. "Aunt gave me more than I needed for travelling expenses."

"And I will contribute a hundred marks also," said Fritz. He had really no feeling for his family, but the poverty that reigned seemed to him so horribly unsuited to their social position he must give a helping hand, partly indeed on his own account, so as not to be the son of a beggar.

Fritz turned to the door once again. "You are quite sure you want me to talk to these people, father, or would you rather——"

But the major declined. "No, no, you go, I should get into a temper; do what you can."

Fritz went into the next room and summoned all the creditors who were standing outside. They were all workmen or tradesmen. All knew Fritz personally, and greeted him in a friendly fashion and were very deferential in their behaviour.

In the regiment Fritz was regarded as excessively haughty and proud, but when he wanted to get anything out of a person he could be exceedingly amiable. He shook hands now with all, asked after the health of their families, and now and again joked with them. He had indeed already half won the battle when he said, "My father, who is not feeling very well to-day, has requested me to speak to you and to settle your accounts so far as he is in a position to do so. There are, indeed, rather a lot," he said laughingly, "but we shall be able to make an arrangement; naturally we cannot pay all at once. You know that in consequence of the failure of his bank my father has lost a great deal"—then he went on with his fabrications—"but within the next few months we shall get a large sum of money from the family estates, and then each of you will be paid to the uttermost farthing. To-day we can only pay part, and I am sure you will all agree to this. You know, perhaps, that to-day my father is celebrating his sixtieth birthday, and I am sure you would not wish to spoil the day when he might be so happy with his wife and children."

No, they did not want to do that; naturally they knew the money would be quite safe, only they had heard that yesterday the respected major had received a large sum of money, and they only wanted to see if they could not secure a little of it.

Fritz listened to these words with joy; these people were much more sensible, and above all much more respectful than he had dared to hope; mentally he put aside a thousand marks for his parents. If he divided five thousand marks (£250) among these tradespeople they would be more than satisfied.

He had the bills given to him, and a joyful smile played on his lips when he added up the amounts; the whole lot amounted to only ten thousand marks (£500). "I shall save another thousand," he thought to himself; then he called up each one singly, spoke to him cheerfully and arranged things as he wanted. All declared that they were quite satisfied to have received a fourth of their accounts, the remainder to be paid within three months.

It was a good hour before Fritz had finished; from each he exacted a written statement that he would not press for money during the next few months nor send in any accounts. To keep the people in a good humour all this time he had given them wine and offered them cigars. They took the wine and with Fritz drank his father's health, but they did not venture to smoke in the presence of the honoured lieutenant and in the respected major's apartments.

At last they departed; Fritz shook hands with them once again, and with a friendly word they all parted good friends. From the passage the laughter of the departing ones penetrated into the breakfast-room, where the others were awaiting the result of the interview.

Beaming with joy, Fritz returned and laid the two thousand marks on the table. "Well, father, I've rescued that for you; for the present they are all satisfied and for three months you have a respite. Before the time is up Hilda will long have been married, and even if she is only engaged I'll manage to get you the few pounds. I've done more difficult things than that. But one thing I should like to know, father: surely these few debts, amounting in all to ten thousand marks, didn't deprive you of your night's rest? I thought they would have been at least seventy or eighty thousand."

"I thought so too; perhaps there are a lot more. I never had the courage to add them all up."

"Unless one can pay them there's not much point in doing so," said Fritz, with indifference; then, partly out of curiosity, partly from real interest, he asked, "What other debts have you then, father?"

"All over the place; the bills are turning grey with age, and some indeed are really primeval."

"In that case a lot of them are no longer valid."

"But Fritz," cried Hildegarde, "you surely wouldn't take advantage of that? The tradesmen must have their money."

"Very easy to say that, but where is it to come from?" objected the major. "I haven't any money—at any rate, not for the moment."

"Have you any bills or I O U's out?" inquired Fritz. "You must not be offended with me for asking you this, but I have been to a certain extent your business agent to-day. I should like to have a clear idea of how matters stand."

"No," his father assured him, "I have never given any of these, but I am indebted to all my friends; one for four thousand (£250), another three thousand (£150), a third a thousand (£50), and so on."

"Oh, well, you need not grow grey because of these; whoever lends money to a friend knows perfectly well in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand he will not get it back again. And I really see absolutely no reason why you should be the exception. Whoever lent you money knew perfectly well he would not see it again."

"Yes, yes, that is all very well," grumbled the old major, "but the people only lent me the money because I told them of Hildegarde's prospective engagement."

"Father, really——" cried Hildegarde. She blushed crimson and was beside herself with indignation. "It is not enough that you think and talk about nothing else but my possible engagement, but you must also tell strangers about it in order to get credit."

The mother laid her hand gently on her shoulder. "But, Hilda, you must not take it in that way; we only spoke about it to intimate friends."

The major also tried to calm her, but Hildegarde would not be pacified. "I cannot go out in the town any more, you have made it impossible for me here. Now I understand the veiled allusions of mamma's friends yesterday when they inquired so sympathetically after my health. I shall go away to-morrow; I will not stay here a day longer."

"This is certainly a delightful birthday celebration," snarled the major, and he struck the table a violent blow with his fist.

"Hildegarde will be all right again directly," said Fritz, "she's a sensible girl; naturally these money complications have upset her. This afternoon she will be her old self again. Now I must go and arrange matters with the bailiff or the champagne will not taste good."

But although by the afternoon the seals had been removed from the furniture the champagne somehow or other was not successful. A dark shadow lay over the house, and remained there, and when at last the major went to bed he had to confess that he had never spent so sad a birthday as the day when he reached the age of sixty.