Effi Briest

by Theodor Fontane

  Effi sat down without reflection on a little corner sofa. ‘We’ll stay here today, and today you’ll be my guest. Or let’s do it this way: tea regularly in my room, breakfast in yours. Then we’ll each get our due, and I wonder where I’ll like it best.’

  ‘That’s really a question of morning or evening.’

  ‘Absolutely. But it’s how the question is posed, or perhaps what pose we adopt towards it, that’s the point.’

  And she laughed and nestled up close to him and made to kiss his hand.

  ‘No Effi, for goodness sake don’t do that. I’m not interested in being an object of respect, that’s for the townspeople in Kessin. For you I’m…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s drop the subject. I must watch what I say in future.’

  7

  It was broad daylight when Effi wakened next morning. She had to make an effort to focus on her surroundings. Where was she? Of course, in Kessin in Landrat von Innstetten’s house, and she was his wife, Baroness Innstetten. Sitting up she looked about herself with curiosity; the previous evening she had been too tired properly to take in all the half strange, half old-fashioned things that surrounded her. Two pillars supported the ceiling-beam, and green curtains closed off the alcove-like sleeping area where the beds stood from the rest of the bedroom; only in the middle was there no curtain, or it was drawn back, enabling her to view things comfortably from her bed. And there between two windows, reaching up to the ceiling, was the narrow pier-glass, while towering to its right over towards the wall on the hallway side was the black, tiled stove, which – that much she had noticed the previous evening – was still stoked from the outside in the time-honoured way. She could now feel the heat it was radiating. How lovely it was, to be in one’s own home; she hadn’t felt such a sense of well-being during the entire trip, not even in Sorrento.

  But where was Innstetten? All was silent around her, nobody there. All she could hear was the tick-tock of the little pendulum clock and an occasional rumble in the stove which led her to conclude that a few fresh logs were being fed in from the hallway. Gradually she remembered that Geert had said something the previous evening about an electric bell, which it didn’t then take her long to find; right beside her pillow was the little white ivory button which she pressed gently.

  Johanna appeared immediately. ‘You rang, my lady?’

  ‘Oh Johanna, I think I must have overslept. What time is it? It must be late.’

  ‘Just gone nine.’

  ‘And the Master…’ she couldn’t bring herself to speak straight off of her ‘husband’… ‘the Master must have been very quiet, I didn’t hear a thing.’

  ‘That he was. And your ladyship will have been sleeping very soundly. After the long journey…’

  ‘Yes I was. And the Master, is he always up so early?’

  ‘Always my lady. He’s very strict about that; he can’t bear sleeping late, and when he goes to his room over there the stove has to be warm, and there must be no waiting for the coffee.’

  ‘So he has already breakfasted?’

  ‘Oh no my lady… the Master…’

  Effi realized her question would have been better left unasked and her conjecture that Innstetten might not have waited for her unuttered. She felt as if she should make amends for this error as best she could, and after she had got up and sat down in front of the pier-glass she resumed the conversation, saying, ‘The Master is quite right of course. Early to rise was the rule in my parents’ house too. There can never be order in the day when people lie in in the morning. But the Master won’t be too severe with me; I couldn’t sleep last night for a long time, and I was even a bit afraid.’

  ‘What’s that my lady? What was the matter?’

  ‘There was a very strange noise coming from above me, not loud but very penetrating. At first it sounded as if long dresses were sweeping over the floorboards, I was so worked up I thought several times I could see white satin shoes. It was as if there was dancing up there, but all very quiet.’ As this conversation proceeded, Johanna looked over the young woman’s shoulder into the tall, narrow mirror so as to be able to observe Effi’s expression better. Then she said, ‘Yes, it’s in the upstairs room. We used to hear it in the kitchen too. But we don’t hear it any longer; we’ve got accustomed to it.’

  ‘Is there something special about it?’

  ‘Oh heaven forbid, not in the slightest. For a while we didn’t rightly know where it was coming from, and the vicar looked embarrassed, though Dr Gieshübler always just laughed about it. But now we know that it’s the curtains. The room is rather close and musty so the windows are always left open except when it’s stormy. That means there’s almost always a strong draught up there blowing the old white curtains – which are far too long – back and forth across the floor. It sounds like silk dresses, or satin shoes, as your ladyship just remarked.’

  ‘Of course that’s what it must have been. But I still don’t understand why the curtains aren’t taken down. Or they could be shortened. It’s such a strange sound and it gets on your nerves. And now Johanna, please give me the little towel and dab my forehead. Or get the spray from my travelling case… Ah, that’s nice and refreshing. I shall go over now. He’s still there isn’t he, or has he gone out?’

  ‘The Master was out, my lady, over at his office I believe. But he’s been back for a quarter of an hour. I shall tell Friedrich to serve breakfast.’

  And with that Johanna left the room, while Effi took another look in the mirror and then crossing the hall, which in the daylight had lost much of the magic of the previous evening, entered Geert’s room.

  He was sitting at his desk, a somewhat cumbersome roll-top bureau which, as it was an heirloom from his parents’ house, he was loth to part with. Effi went up behind him and hugged and kissed him before he had time to get up from his chair.

  ‘Up already?’

  ‘Up already, you say. You’re making fun of me of course.’

  Innstetten shook his head. ‘Why would I do that?’ But it pleased Effi to accuse herself and she refused to listen to her husband’s assurances that his ‘Up already’ had been sincerely meant. ‘You surely remember from our trip that you never had to wait for me in the morning. During the day of course is another matter. It’s true I’m not very punctual, but I’m no lie-abed. In that, I think, my parents brought me up well.’

  ‘In that? In everything my sweet Effi.’

  ‘You’re just saying that because it’s still our honeymoon… but no, we’re beyond that. My goodness Geert, I hadn’t thought of that, we’ve been married more than six weeks already, six weeks and a day. Yes, well, that makes it different, I won’t take it as flattery, I’ll take it as the truth.’

  At that moment Friedrich entered, bringing the coffee. The breakfast table was placed diagonally in front of a little right-angled sofa that just fitted into one corner of the living-room. Here they both sat down.

  ‘The coffee is excellent,’ said Effi, at the same time surveying the room and its furnishings. ‘This is like hotel coffee, or like Bottegone’s… you remember, in Florence, with the view of the cathedral. I must write to Mamma about this, we don’t have coffee like this at Hohen-Cremmen. In fact, Geert, I’m just realizing what a distinguished marriage I’ve made. At home everything only just passed muster.’

  ‘Nonsense Effi, I never saw a better run house than yours.’

  ‘And then the way you live. When Papa bought his new gun-cabinet and hung a buffalo’s head over his desk with old Wrangel below it (he was adjutant to the old man once, you know) he thought it was the last word, but when I look around me here, then what we thought was Hohen-Cremmen grandeur seems very plain and ordinary. I don’t know what to compare it all with; even last night when I only got a fleeting look at it, it made me think all kinds of things.’

  ‘What kinds of things, may I ask?’

  ‘Ah, what kinds of things. But you mustn’t laugh. I once had a picture book with a Pers
ian or Indian prince (he was wearing a turban) sitting cross-legged on a red silk cushion with a big red silk bolster behind him which bulged out to right and left, and the wall behind the Indian prince was bristling with swords and daggers and leopardskins and shields and long Turkish muskets. And look, that’s just what it looks like here, and all that’s needed to make the resemblance perfect is for you to sit cross-legged.’

  ‘Effi, you’re a dear, sweet creature. You don’t know how much I find you so, and how dearly I want to show you that every minute of the day.’

  ‘Well, there’s plenty of time for that, I’m only seventeen and I don’t intend to die just yet.’

  ‘Not before me, at least. Of course, if I were to die, I would prefer to take you with me. I don’t want to leave you to anyone else; what do you think of that?’

  ‘I must give that some thought. Or rather, let’s drop the subject. I don’t like talking about death, I’m for life. And now tell me, what’s life like here? On the way you told me all sorts of strange things about town and country, but about the life we’re going to lead here – not a word. I can see of course that everything is different here from Hohen-Cremmen and Schwantikow, but in the “good town of Kessin”, as you always call it, there must also be society of some kind, people for us to consort with. Are there people of good family in the town?’

  ‘No, my dear Effi; that side of things is going to be a great disappointment to you. We have a few aristocratic families living in the neighbourhood, and you’ll meet them, but here in town there’s nobody.’

  ‘Nobody at all? I can’t believe it. There must be three thousand of you here, and among three thousand people, apart from Beza the barber (that’s his name, isn’t it?), there must be some kind of élite, dignitaries or something of the sort.’

  Innstetten laughed. ‘Oh, dignitaries, we have those. But in the light of day they don’t amount to much. Of course we have a clergyman and a district judge and a headmaster and a chief pilot, probably adding up to a round dozen people with posts of that sort, good souls for the most part, but they’re not exactly refined. And that just leaves the consuls.’

  ‘Just the consuls? Really Geert, how can you say “just the consuls”. That’s something very high and mighty, I might even say fearsome. The consuls are the ones with that axe aren’t they, sticking out of a bundle of rods?’

  ‘Not quite Effi. They’re called lictors.’

  ‘That’s right, they are called lictors. But consuls were rather distinguished and quite high in the legal system. Brutus was a consul, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, Brutus was a consul, but ours aren’t very like him; they confine their activities to trading in sugar or coffee, or opening a case of oranges and selling them at ten pfennigs each.’

  ‘Not possible.’

  ‘It certainly is. They’re shrewd small tradesmen who are quickly to hand with advice when a foreign ship comes in and is totally foxed by some business procedure, and once they’ve been of service to some Portuguese or Dutch ship, they soon end up official representatives of these foreign states, so we have as many consuls in Kessin as there are ambassadors and envoys in Berlin, and on holidays, and there are a lot of holidays here, they run up all the flags, and on bright, sunny mornings, you’ll see all Europe showing the flag on our roofs, and the stars and stripes and the Chinese dragon to boot.’

  ‘You’re in the mood for mockery, Geert, and you may be right. But for my small part, I must confess I find all this quite delightful, it certainly puts our Havelland towns in the shade. When it’s the Kaiser’s birthday the flags are only ever black and white with a little red at best, but nothing that can compare with the world of flags you’re talking about. Anyway, as I’ve already said to you, I find over and over again that things here are all very foreign, and I haven’t heard or seen anything yet that didn’t fill me with amazement, starting last night with that quaint ship out in the hall and the shark behind and the crocodile, and this room of yours. All so oriental, I have to say it again, like an Indian prince’s apartments…’

  ‘If you like. I congratulate you, princess…’

  ‘And then the gallery upstairs with those long curtains that brush over the floor.’

  ‘But what do you know about that, Effi?’

  ‘Nothing except what I’ve just told you. It must have been for about an hour when I woke up in the night, I seemed to hear shoes sliding across the floor, and dancing and perhaps even music. But all very quiet. And I told Johanna that this morning, just by way of excuse for sleeping so late. And she told me it came from the long curtains in the gallery upstairs. I think we should just trim a bit off the curtains and have done with it, or at least close the windows; the storms will be starting soon. Mid-November is the time for them after all.’

  Innstetten stared straight ahead in some slight embarrassment and seemed undecided whether he should respond to all this. In the end he chose to be silent. ‘You’re quite right Effi, we’ll shorten the long curtains upstairs. But there’s no hurry, especially since it’s not certain that it will help. It may be something else, something in the chimney, or woodworm or a polecat. For we have polecats here. In any event, before we start changing things you’ll have to take a look at the household here, I’ll show you round of course; we can do it in a quarter of an hour. And then you can dress for our friend Gieshübler, just a little, for you’re really at your most charming just as you are; it’s past ten and I would have to be very wrong about him if he didn’t call at eleven or at midday at the latest to lay his most devoted respects at your feet. That’s the kind of language he indulges in. As I’ve already told you, he’s a capital fellow who will be a friend to you, if I’m any judge of you and him.’

  8

  Eleven was long past; but Gieshübler had not yet put in an appearance. ‘I can’t wait any longer,’ Geert, whom duty called, had said. ‘If Gieshübler does still come, be as cordial as possible and everything will go swimmingly; he mustn’t be made to feel embarrassed; if he’s bashful he either gets tongue-tied or says the oddest things; but if you can win his trust and put him in a good humour he will talk like a book. I know you’ll do it. Don’t expect me before three; there are all kinds of things to be done over there. And we must think about the room upstairs again; but it will probably turn out best to leave it as it is.’

  With that Innstetten went off and left his young wife alone. She sat, leaning back slightly, in a cosy corner by the window, leaning her arm, as she looked out of the window, on a little flap pulled out of the roll-top bureau. The street was the main road to the beach which meant that in summertime it was full of life, but now in the middle of November everything was empty and silent and only a few poor children whose parents lived in some of the thatched cottages on the outermost edge of the ‘Plantation’ clattered past the Innstettens house in their clogs. Effi however did not feel lonely at all, for her imagination was still working on the wonderful things she had seen shortly before on her inspection tour of the house. This tour had begun with the kitchen whose stove proved to be of modern manufacture, while an electric cable ran across the ceiling to the maid’s room – both had been recently installed. Effi had been very pleased when Innstetten told her about them, but then they had gone from the kitchen back into the hall and from there out into the courtyard, half of which was not much more than a narrow alley between the two side wings. Everything else relating to the household and its management had been accommodated in these wings, on the right the maid’s room, the servants’ room, the laundry room, and on the left between the stable and the coach-house the coachman’s rooms that were occupied by Kruse’s family. Above this, in a loft, the hens were housed, and a flap on the roof above the stable enabled the pigeons to go in and out. All this Effi had looked at with much interest, but this interest was far exceeded when after returning from the yard to the front of the house she had, under Innstetten’s guidance, climbed the steps that led upstairs. The staircase was crooked, rickety and dark; the landing b
y contrast into which it opened almost seemed cheerful because it had a great deal of light and a fine view of the landscape: to one side, out over the roofs of the edge of the town and the ‘Plantation’ to a Dutch windmill standing high on a dune, to the other on to the Kessine which at this point, just before its estuary, was quite broad and made a stately impression. It was impossible not to be impressed, and Effi had not stinted in giving lively expression to her delight. ‘Yes, very beautiful, very picturesque,’ Innstetten had answered without further comment and had then opened the two halves of a slightly out-of-true double door which led to the right into the so-called gallery. This ran the whole length of the house; front and rear windows stood open and the long curtains already mentioned swept back and forth in the strong draught. At the centre of one of the side walls a fireplace protruded with a large stone base, while on the opposite wall a few tin lamps hung, each with two openings for the light, just like the ones in the hallway; but everything was gloomy and neglected. Effi was somewhat disappointed and said so, declaring that rather than this abandoned, shabby gallery, she would like to see the rooms on the other side of the landing. ‘There’s absolutely nothing to see there,’ Innstetten had answered, opening the doors nonetheless. Here there were four rooms, each with a single window, all distempered yellow, just like the gallery and just as empty. Except for one in which there were three rush-bottomed chairs with the seats gone; on the back of one of them a little picture an inch or so high had been stuck, showing a Chinaman in a blue jacket with baggy yellow breeches and a flat hat on his head. Effi saw it and asked, ‘What’s the Chinaman doing there?’ Innstetten himself seemed surprised by the picture and assured her he didn’t know. ‘That’s something Christel must have stuck on, or Johanna. Some kind of game. You can see it’s been cut out of a child’s reading book.’ Effi agreed and was only surprised that Innstetten was taking it all so seriously, as if it really mattered. Then, taking another look at the gallery, she had expressed the view that it was a pity to have it all standing empty. ‘Downstairs we only have three rooms, and if anybody comes to visit we’ll be stuck. Don’t you think the gallery could be made into two nice guest rooms? It would be just the thing for Mamma; she could sleep at the back and would have the view of the river and the two moles, and at the front she would have the town and the Dutch windmill. All we have in Hohen-Cremmen is an old German mill. What do you think? Next May Mamma will very likely be coming.’