Little Willberg had shot himself!

There was sincere sorrow in the regiment at the loss of their comrade, who had been the universal favourite, yet, in spite of that, they could not forgive him for not having taken his discharge before taking his life. Twenty-four hours sooner or later could have made no difference to him; within that time he could have managed it. They could not understand why he had shown so little consideration for the regiment he had so dearly loved and of which he had always been so proud. The act of one officer affects the credit of all; Willberg understood that perfectly well, and he ought to have remembered that his suicide would cause all kinds of unpleasantness to the regiment.

This was the universal view, and how right it was was shown by the fact that the Berlin newspapers were full of little Willberg's death. An attempt had been made to hush up the affair, and at the request of the colonel, the adjutant, Count Wettborn, had visited all the newspaper offices and requested that nothing might be published concerning the sad affair. The count had been to all except the two social democratic organs; he could not bring his mind to visiting them; and it was just these two newspapers that daily published fresh revelations concerning the life of the dead man. There came to light, indeed, more than had been feared. The "Golden Butterflies" were beside themselves with rage that all these things which, in their opinion, were nobody's concern but their own, should be published, and the worst of it was that from the history of the dead man's life people drew unfavourable conclusions concerning the spirit and mode of life of the "Golden Butterflies."

The "Golden Butterflies" were simply distracted; why should this thing have happened to them?—to them who were so proud and distinguished, and who possessed the reputation of being one of the most aristocratic of infantry regiments? And why, again, should it have been an officer belonging to the highest nobility who gave people the opportunity of criticising the regiment? The newspapers, of course, found this an excellent occasion for renewing their attacks on the aristocracy and declaring that the people with blue blood in their veins were not a whit better or more to be respected than those who had to be content with miserable red blood.

But the worst of all was that what the newspapers reported, unfortunately, approached the truth. Willberg must have been living frightfully extravagantly, and he was mixed up in highly disreputable affairs. Much was revealed of which his fellow-officers had had no idea. The colonel went about in a state of great excitement, cursing and swearing. On the day after the sorrowful event there was a regular attack on the regimental bureau by people who had claims on Willberg, and who wanted to know who would settle them, and when after this nobody else was admitted to the barracks, there were showers of letters which disclosed more or less discreditable episodes in Willberg's life.

Why, oh why, should it have been an aristocrat who drew down upon the regiment such scandal and rebuke? Nobody said it aloud, but everybody thought the same thing. If only it had been Winkler instead of little Willberg who had shot himself, how satisfied they would have been; they could have struck an attitude and declared, with great pride, "You see, we nobles are the better men." But it was the aristocrat who was dead, and the plebeian was still alive!

None of the "Golden Butterflies" knew what it was that had so suddenly driven Willberg to death, and he had not left a letter or a line behind which gave the slightest clue to it.

As a matter of course the colonel inquired of his fellow-officers whether any of them could give him any information, but the "Golden Butterflies" looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. All of them knew of course that little Willberg had lost money at cards, but that had often happened, and why should he, therefore, have shot himself on this particular occasion rather than earlier? And this view was strengthened by the fact that the Uhlan, when questioned, had declared that Willberg had paid him his gaming debts shortly before his death. As a matter of fact this was not the truth; on the contrary, the Uhlan had emphatically reminded Willberg that the date for the payment of the debt had passed, and had admonished him that in affairs of this kind, which were designated debts of honour, etiquette demanded the most scrupulous punctuality. It was after this that Willberg shot himself, and although the Uhlan need hardly reproach himself with having driven a comrade to death, still he was very glad that the affair had not been made public.

On the day after the burial it occurred to the adjutant of the regiment to ask Willberg's man if he could give any information in the matter. But he could disclose nothing, although he was subjected to a formal examination; at last, however, he remembered something. "Now I recollect, sir, one evening I took a letter to Lieutenant Winkler, and my master waited at home for the answer, and when it did come he was greatly agitated. I had never seen him before like this. I heard him walking up and down for hours, and next morning when I went to call him he had not been to bed at all, but was lying on the sofa asleep."

"Do you know what was in the letter you took to Lieutenant Winkler?"

He could give no information on this point, so he was dismissed, and the adjutant told the colonel what he had just learnt. The latter walked about in agitation.

"How long has Lieutenant Winkler been on furlough?"

The count consulted the calendar. "He has to announce his return to-morrow mid-day!"

"So much the better, otherwise I should have had to recall him by telegraph. The authorities ask for explicit details concerning Willberg's death. Till now I was confronted by a riddle; perhaps Winkler can throw some light on the subject."

George had already heard of Willberg's death while he was in Paris, and although at first the news had shocked him he could not pretend that he was deeply grieved. Almost hourly he had thanked Olga for having persuaded him to take this journey. He could not hide from himself that in spite of the best resolutions he would not have been able to meet Willberg calmly.

He had also told himself hourly that even when he returned he did not think he could see him in cold blood, and thus to a certain extent he breathed more freely when he heard of Willberg's death, and he was almost grateful to Heaven for having spared him a future meeting. It was sad, of course, that Willberg had been obliged to take his life when he was still a young man, but as far as the army and the officers were concerned his death was no loss. He had dreaded meeting him again, but now he returned to the garrison quite cheerfully. Fourteen happy days lay behind him; Olga and he had thoroughly enjoyed themselves in beautiful Paris; his furlough had been a real time of refreshment, and he was quite pleased to return to his duties and his active life.

"The colonel desires that Lieutenant Winkler will speak to him to-morrow at eleven in the regimental bureau." For a moment George was somewhat alarmed. Could the colonel have found out that he had been in France, in Paris, without permission? Well, the punishment for that was not severe, at the worst a few day's confinement to one's own lodgings, which would not destroy the memory of the delightful days he had just enjoyed.

The first words, however, which the colonel addressed to him next morning showed him that his fears were groundless. He inquired how he had enjoyed the Riviera, and then he came at once to the point. He told him what Willberg's former servant had said, and begged George to give him any further information he had. "Above all it is most important for me to know what was in the letter which Willberg sent you. Can you, and will you, give me information concerning this?"

George considered for a moment, then he said: "As I was not expressly pledged to keep silence I do not think I shall be committing an indiscretion if I tender an account of it."

"Have you still Willberg's letter?"

"No, sir; but I perfectly remember what it contained. Lieutenant von Willberg wrote to me that he had been gambling and required five thousand marks (£250) to settle a debt of honour. If he did not get the money by some means or other he said he should have to put a bullet through his head to vindicate his honour."

"This confounded gambling!" cursed the colonel. "Who will extirpate it root and branch?" After a slight pause he asked: "Did you give him the money?"

"No, sir."

"The gambling debt was paid by some other means," interposed Count Wettborn; "the colonel therefore need not have any anxiety about that matter."

The colonel breathed more freely. "Well, I am glad of that." Then he turned to George again: "You did not give him the money then? Might I ask why? Do not misunderstand me; it is, of course, your own affair whether you lent Willberg the money or not; but I thought perhaps you would have given it him on this occasion. But perhaps you did not think he was serious in saying he would take his life?"

"I must confess that I did not think about it at all. I was just about to assist Lieutenant Willberg when I learnt something about him that made it quite impossible for me to do so."

"And what was that?"

The colonel and Count Wettborn looked at George expectantly.

"I can only answer in general terms, as I am pledged to silence."

"To the dead?"

"No, to a living person to whom I am indebted for my information." And after a pause he continued: "Just as I was about to send Lieutenant Willberg the money he asked for, I learned quite by chance that he had behaved to a young lady, who is intimately connected with me, in such a manner that any Court of Honour must have sentenced him to immediate dismissal in case the matter became public. From that moment I was no longer able to regard Lieutenant Willberg as an officer and a man of honour, and I only assist such."

The colonel was greatly disturbed by what George had said. The affair was extremely unpleasant to him, and who knew what else might come out? He would have preferred not to have asked any more questions, but that would not do, so he said: "You know that it was your duty to inform the Court of Honour of the dishonourable acts of a fellow-officer which came to your ears."

"Yes, sir, I should certainly have done so in this case if I had not been obliged to consider the young lady, who would have been greatly compromised if I had laid information before the Court of Honour. I did not think I was justified in doing this; moreover, as I had been for so comparatively a short time in the regiment, I did not want to be the cause of an investigation before a Court of Honour of the conduct of a fellow-officer who was universally loved. I asked for leave of absence so that I might consider calmly whether I could justify my silence to myself and to my fellow-officers, and in my agitated state of mind I wanted to avoid Lieutenant Willberg. Although I have a considerable amount of self-control there would have been a quarrel between him and me, and a duel would have been unavoidable—provided, of course, that the judge of the Court of Honour considered that an honourable man could send Lieutenant Willberg a challenge."

"Lieutenant Winkler!" cried the colonel, astounded. "An officer in my regiment, belonging to one of the noblest families in the land, not fit to be challenged by a man of honour—pray consider what you are saying."

"I am. Indeed, it is no pleasant matter to make these charges against a dead man who can no longer defend himself."

"Then why do you do so?"

"To show you that, as an honourable man, I could not have acted otherwise in refusing to give Willberg the money."

The words sounded so calm, so determined, yet so honourable and straightforward, that the colonel rose and shook hands with George. "I not only believe what you say, but I am absolutely convinced of it. So far as I can judge, you appear to have acted perfectly rightly, and I thank you for not having given information at once to the Court of Honour without having first considered the whole question calmly and quietly. It is never pleasant to hold an investigation on a fellow-officer, especially when, as in this case, a good deal of dirt would have been thrown about."

"Much more," George asserted, "than anyone would have believed possible."

"We will let the matter rest, then," the colonel decided. "Willberg has discharged his debts with his life, you are pledged to silence, so let the secret remain with us."

After a few more questions George was dismissed, and the colonel addressed the adjutant: "Eh, what do you say, my dear count?"

Count Wettborn went on polishing his eyeglass, then he gave forth his opinion. "I cannot help saying it, my dear colonel, but in my opinion Winkler has behaved splendidly in the whole affair."

"That is exactly my opinion also, but it is a great piece of luck that he is pledged not to speak; the less said about the dead man the better for everybody. I can imagine how everybody in the brigade and squadron is asking how it is possible for Willberg to lead such a life without my knowing anything about it. Mark my words, count: if the details of this story were known it might cost us our posts, for you as well as I would be blamed—I, because I was not sufficiently acquainted with what was going on among the officers generally and with Willberg in particular. But it is quite impossible for me to concern myself about each individual officer and to notice whether he is living beyond his means or not. That is your work, my dear count; you ought to warn the younger officers when they are so extravagant and wild, and if your words are of no avail, then you ought to inform me, so that I could take steps against the gentlemen concerned."

The colonel was seriously agitated, he really feared he might be dismissed. While the newspapers were publishing striking articles concerning Lieutenant Willberg he was summoned to an audience with His Majesty, and His Majesty had shown himself so ungraciously disposed that the colonel had had a very bad quarter-of-an-hour. In clear, plain language His Majesty had said: "I must make the colonels of my regiments answerable for what happens among the officers, and when such things take place as those that have just come to light, it is not only a dishonour for the regiment on which I have bestowed my special favour and patronage, but for the whole army."

The colonel could only offer as an excuse the fact that little Willberg had not only been able to deceive him but also all his fellow-officers, and this had somewhat modified His Majesty's anger. "But all the same it is a great scandal." The colonel was dismissed from his presence without a gracious word, and he trembled for his career, but the adjutant was able to console him. If the colonel was to have received his discharge he would have had it already, and now that the colonel had seen His Majesty it was a matter of perfect indifference what the brigades and divisions were saying. Nothing would now happen to either the colonel or himself; indeed, he could not have been made personally responsible for what had occurred. Still, he was very glad that George was pledged to silence. For otherwise many more things connected with the gambling might have come to light. It might, indeed, have cost him his post, that he, in the character of the adjutant of the regiment, had not merely permitted gambling in the Casino, but had to a certain extent participated in it. He was therefore greatly relieved that the affair had blown over so easily, and he made up his mind on the next suitable occasion to put in a good word for George and to say to the officers, "Boys, Winkler's behaviour has been blameless; I do not, of course, wish to influence you in any way, but I ask you to consider whether in future you will not be on more friendly terms with him."

When next day, however, the count delivered his carefully-thought-out address to the officers he evoked no reciprocal feeling. Every one of them would have done what Winkler did—why then was there anything special in it? And as he could not say what he knew touching Willberg's honour one really could not judge whether the thing was so bad, and to bring charges against a man without giving proof was really not exactly the proper thing to do. Either he should have said all or nothing.

The officers continued talking in this way, and the count heard their criticisms with surprise and annoyance. At last he said very seriously: "Gentlemen, I can only repeat that, in the opinion of the colonel, and also in my own, Lieutenant Winkler has acted perfectly rightly. If you think that you have the slightest ground for complaint against him I can only assure you you are wrong, and I advise you most earnestly not to express to Winkler the views you have just uttered. There might be results that would not be agreeable to you. I beg you to pay attention to what I have said."

The officers certainly did this, but the count's words did not help to alter their feeling against George. At first his presence had been merely inconvenient to them, now they began to hate him. It was more than disagreeable to them that it should be George, an "outsider," whom they had tried to keep at arm's length, who knew more of Willberg's life than they themselves did, who was aware of things touching the dead man's honour which the colonel asserted it would not be wise to publish. In their opinion he ought to have spoken to them in confidence; they would have been able to judge whether what Willberg had done was really so bad, and they would indeed have judged justly, though at the same time without harshness, as it concerned a man of their own class. Whatever had made the count talk in that way? In other words he had said: "You have all reason to thank Lieutenant Winkler, who went on furlough to avoid a meeting, and in consequence a duel with Lieutenant Willberg." That was good indeed. They, the aristocrats, were bound to thank the one and only bourgeois officer in the regiment. The thought alone maddened them. And, besides, who knew that George was really animated by such noble motives as he asserted when he took a holiday. Perhaps he had simply said to himself: "If I see him there will be a duel"; and so he had gone for a holiday, feeling assured that he would never meet Willberg again alive. He had avoided the duel merely from cowardice; he had "funked," and should such an officer be allowed to remain in the regiment?

The more the officers talked over the matter the more enraged and angry they became, and the wine which on such occasions was freely passed round, increased their excitement.

"We must send a deputation to the colonel and inform him that we decline to remain any longer in the same corps with Winkler. Either he or we!" cried out a hoarse voice.

But the sensible ones among them counselled discretion; things were not so bad as that. Everybody knew that His Majesty protected him, and if he heard what was the feeling about Winkler, and how they had determined not to remain in the same regiment with him, His Majesty would be seriously angry, especially as recently His Majesty had not been so well disposed towards the regiment as in former days. They must first of all let the grass grow on Willberg's grave; after that they could deal with George. For the present there was nothing further to be done than to show him still more clearly than ever that he was not welcome among the officers; perhaps he himself would see about getting his exchange, and if he, a bourgeois, was not delicate-minded enough to see this, it would have to be conveyed to him by some means.

George soon noticed the feeling that existed towards him; they all treated him with icy politeness, only spoke to him when it was absolutely unavoidable, and answered his questions as shortly as possible.

For a fortnight George endured this treatment, then he went to the adjutant of the regiment, the only one who during the whole time had treated him as a friend and a comrade.

"I knew that you would come to me," said the count. "I have done all in my power to remove the ill-feeling which exists against you among the officers. I have spoken on your behalf, and have warned them not to drive you to extremes, but, unfortunately, without success. There is no need to tell you that most of them blame you for your behaviour in the Willberg affair; they knew that he asked you for money, and they blame you for not having given it him. They think that if you had done so, Willberg would not have taken his life. Whether your money would really have saved him—his gambling debts were paid it must be remembered—or whether there were other things that forced him to take his life, only Willberg himself could say, and his mouth is closed for ever. I have endeavoured to make this clear to the officers, but in this likewise I have been unsuccessful. Besides, they appear to have all sorts of other things against you."

George sat opposite the adjutant pale as death. "So that's it. I always thought so, but I did not expect quite such heavy charges. What can I do?"

"I have already spoken to the colonel. The best thing would be for you to demand an official inquiry before the Court of Honour for yourself, but there is—I was almost going to say 'alas!'—not the slightest ground for this. Perhaps the feeling against you would alter if you could inform the colonel and myself what you heard at the last moment about Willberg, what prevented you from helping him, and what ground you had for bringing such heavy charges against him. Cannot you tell me? If you like I will preserve absolute silence, though of course it would be best if everyone knew about it."

"I had permission to inform you of what I learnt on that day whenever I considered it absolutely necessary. I believe that now, for my own sake, I ought no longer to remain silent." And then he related what Olga had confided to him.

The adjutant listened with great attention, and when George had finished he sat silent for a long time.

"May I ask your opinion on the matter, sir?"

The count continued silent, then he jumped up suddenly. "Ach, how beastly!" He shook his head with disgust, and once more repeated "How beastly!"

George had been conscious from the beginning of having acted rightly, but now he breathed more freely and said, "Then you can understand why I did not give him the money?"

The count turned to him quickly. "Understand? Why, it was a matter of course that yon——" he tried to find a name for Willberg—"what I mean is, you could not, of course, help him under the circumstances, and everyone will be of the same opinion. I sympathise with you and the young lady; it would be extremely painful for you if the story were known, but there would be no need to give any name."

"I am not sure that I have the right to ask you to inform the colonel of what I have just told you, but I will be responsible for that. Perhaps he will speak to the officers and tell them that he knows everything and approves of my conduct. Perhaps that will have the desired result."

"It must; I will ask the colonel to talk seriously to the officers, and if they will not listen to reason of their own free will they must be forced to hear it."

"Thank you, sir."

The adjutant turned to go and shook hands with George. It was the first time that the count had offered him his hand, the first friendliness that he had received for a long time, the first time that anyone had spoken to him warmly and heartily and sympathised with him. It did not alter things, of course, but in spite of that George felt happier and gayer than he had been for a long time, and the feeling of having acted rightly in the matter gave great satisfaction.

Olga scarcely recognised him when she came in that evening; she had visited him almost daily lately, for George sat at home evening after evening and thought and meditated on what would happen. He had accepted no invitations, gone nowhere; he had lived in himself, and spent much time in writing long letters to his parents, in which he lamented his misfortunes. It was a necessity of his nature to express his feelings to the people who cared for him, but regularly as the letters were written Olga threw them into the fire. "Your parents cannot help or advise you," she had answered him on the first occasion when she destroyed his letter, and he saw that she was quite right.

To-day when she came she asked if he had finished his letter, and she could hardly believe it when he said he had not written one at all.

"Whatever has happened then?"

He told her of the conversation he had had with the adjutant, and asked her at the end: "Do you think people ought to know how Willberg treated you?"

Olga sat thinking for a long time, then she said: "I care for you very much, I would gladly give you permission to speak openly, but it would not be wise, especially on your account. What do our relations with one another matter to the world? Nobody expects a young lieutenant to be a saint, but he need not publish to the whole world the fact that he has a 'friend,' and certainly no one need know what her name is and what has happened to her. There would be people who would blame you, and why should you expose yourself to that?"

He kissed her on the forehead. "You are right, as you always are."

He could not tell how it was, but suddenly he wondered how Hildegarde would receive such news. He had not seen her since his return, but daily his thoughts had wandered to her, and now he saw her picture clearly before him.

"George, what are you thinking about so seriously?"

He roused himself from his thoughts and found Olga standing in front of him and laughing.

"You have forgotten all about me, haven't you? For at least a minute you have been staring straight in front of you. What were you thinking of?"

He did not answer her question. "Don't be angry," he begged, "my thoughts were far away."

"In beautiful Paris?"

He could not help laughing. "Not exactly, but now they have returned to you once more," and he tenderly drew her to him.