So things went for some weeks until Effi suddenly announced her wish to be permitted to go riding too; it was something she loved, and asking her to do without something that meant so much to her, simply because there would be talk in Kessin, was too much. The major thought it was a capital idea, and Innstetten, though clearly less taken with it and objecting repeatedly that they wouldn’t be able to find a lady’s horse, had to give in when Crampas confidently insisted that they should leave that to him. And true enough, one was found, and it was bliss for Effi to be able to gallop along the beach where the signs segregating ‘gentlemen’s bathing’ from ‘ladies’ bathing’ now stood impotently. Rollo was mostly in the party too, and on occasion they took a rest on the beach or felt the urge to proceed some of the way on foot, so it was agreed they would take along the necessary servants, and the major’s batman, an old Treptow Uhlan called Knut, and Innstetten’s coachman Kruse were turned into grooms, somewhat imperfectly, since, to Effi’s dismay, they dressed them up in an apology for livery which left their real occupations all too apparent.
It was already the middle of October by the time they first sallied forth in fully equipped cavalcade, with Innstetten and Crampas in front and Effi between them, then Kruse and Knut and finally Rollo, though he was soon ahead of everybody as he disliked trotting behind. When they had passed the now deserted Strand Hotel and soon afterwards, keeping to the right, reached the mole on the nearer side by a path along the beach over which moderate breakers were foaming, they felt a desire to dismount and walk out to the head of the mole. Effi was first out of the saddle. Between the two stone causeways the broad Kessine flowed sedately to the sea that lay before them, its sunlit surface ruffled by only an occasional gentle wave.
Effi had never been out here, for when she had arrived in Kessin the previous November it was already the stormy season, and when summer came she had been in no condition for long walks. Now she was delighted, finding everything grand and magnificent and indulging in disparaging comparisons of the Luch with the sea, picking up pieces of driftwood whenever she could, to hurl them either to the left into the sea or to the right into the Kessine. Rollo was always happy to dash after them for his mistress; suddenly however his attention was attracted to quite another quarter, and creeping forward cautiously, almost timidly, he suddenly pounced on an object that came into view in front of him, in vain of course, for at the same moment, from a sunlit rock overgrown with green seaweed about five paces away, a seal slipped noiselessly down into the sea. For a short while they could still see the head, then that too disappeared.
They were all excited, and Crampas began to imagine a seal-hunt, announcing they should bring shotguns next time, since these creatures had a tough skin.
‘Can’t be done,’ said Innstetten, ‘harbour police.’
‘What a thing to say,’ laughed the major. ‘Harbour police! The authorities we have here will surely turn a blind eye, all three of them. Does everything have to be so fiendishly legal? Rules and regulations are always a bore.’
Effi clapped her hands.
‘Yes Crampas, that’s your style, and Effi, you can see, applauds you. Naturally; women are always the first to call the police, but they won’t hear anything of the law.’
‘That’s a time-honoured woman’s privilege, Innstetten, and we won’t change it.’
‘No,’ Innstetten laughed, ‘nor do I want to. No point trying to wash off the leopard’s spots. But someone like you, Crampas, who’ve grown up under the banner of discipline and know very well that obedience and order are of the essence, a man like you really shouldn’t talk like that, not even in jest. Of course you’re sublimely indifferent, and you think there’s no immediate danger of the heavens caving in. And they won’t, not right away. But one day they will.’
Crampas was momentarily embarrassed, for he thought this had been said with something particular in mind, which was not the case. Innstetten was simply delivering one of his little moral lectures as he was wont to do. ‘In these matters I admire Gieshübler, always the cavalier,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone, ‘but without ever forgetting his principles.’
The major was in control of himself again and said in his usual tone, ‘Yes, Gieshübler, the best chap in the world, and with even better principles, if that’s possible. But what’s the reason when all’s said and done? Why? Because he has his “handicap”. Normal people are for frivolity. Indeed, without a bit of frivolity life isn’t worth a charge of buckshot.’
‘Well, mark my words Crampas. It sometimes comes to that.’ And he looked at the major’s shortened left arm.
Effi had heard little of this conversation. She had gone to the spot where the seal had lain and Rollo was standing beside her. Then both looked from the rock out to sea and waited for the ‘mermaid’ to appear again.
At the end of October the election campaign began, which prevented Innstetten from taking part in further excursions, and Crampas and Effi would also have had to desist in deference to the good people of Kessin, had not Knut and Kruse been there by way of a guard of honour. And so the riding continued into November.
There had of course been a change in the weather and a constant nor’wester drove cloud masses overhead and the sea foamed mightily, but there was still no rain or cold, so these outings under grey skies with the roar of the waves were almost more beautiful than before with the sun shining and the sea calm. Rollo bounded ahead, spattered now and then with spray, and the veil of Effi’s riding hat fluttered in the wind. In this weather talking was virtually impossible; but when they turned away from the sea into the shelter of the dunes, or better still into the pine woods which lay even further inland, it was quiet, Effi’s veil no longer fluttered and the narrow path forced the two riders close together. This gave the opportunity, as they were slowed to a walk by roots and stumps, to resume the conversation interrupted by the roar of the waves. Crampas, an accomplished conversationalist, reminisced about the war and his regiment and told stories about Innstetten and his idiosyncrasies – because of his seriousness and his buttoned-up approach he had never, according to Crampas, really fitted into the merry band of comrades, so that he had always been more respected than loved.
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ said Effi, ‘it’s fortunate that respect is the main thing.’
‘Yes, in its place. But it really isn’t appropriate in every situation. And then of course there were always his mystical leanings, which sometimes gave offence, first because soldiers don’t have much time for that sort of thing, and then because we had the impression, perhaps wrongly, that he wasn’t quite so committed to it as he would have us believe.’
‘Mystical leanings?’ said Effi. ‘What exactly do you mean by that, Major? He surely didn’t hold prayer meetings and play the prophet. Not even like the one in that opera – I forget his name.’
‘No, he didn’t go that far. But maybe it’s better to drop the subject. I wouldn’t like to say something behind his back that could be misconstrued. Especially since these are things that can quite well be discussed in his presence, things which might be blown up willy-nilly into something peculiar when he isn’t here to interrupt at any moment and contradict or for that matter laugh at us.’
‘Now you’re being cruel, Major. How can you put my curiosity on the rack like that. First you say he’s something, then he isn’t. And mystical leanings! Does he have visions?’
‘Have visions! I wouldn’t exactly say that. But he was very fond of telling us ghost stories. And when he had got us all worked up, and actually put the wind up some of us, suddenly it was as if he had only been taking a rise out of the gullible ones. To cut a long story short, it reached a point where I said straight out to him one day, “Come on, Innstetten, it’s all an act. You don’t fool me. You’re having us on. You don’t believe it any more than we do really, but you want to make yourself interesting, and you’ve got the idea that not being run-of-the-mill goes down better with the top brass. They can’t have nondescript t
ypes in the higher echelons. And with your eye for the main chance you looked round for a way to be out of the ordinary, and came up with ghosts.”’
Effi said not a word, and the major was finally put out by this. ‘My dear lady is silent.’
‘Yes.’
‘Am I permitted to ask why? Have I given offence? Or do you find me unchivalrous, indulging in a little gossip about an absent friend, that much I would admit, despite my protests. But there you do me an injustice, in spite of everything. We can pursue this subject freely in his hearing as far as I’m concerned, and I’m prepared to repeat every word I’ve just said.’
‘I can believe it.’ And now Effi broke her silence and told everything she had been through in the house, including how odd Innstetten’s response had been. ‘He didn’t say yes, he didn’t say no, and I couldn’t get any sense out of him.’
‘The same old Innstetten,’ laughed Crampas. ‘That’s what he was like in the old days when we were stationed together in Liancourt and later in Beauvais. He was living in an old episcopal palace – and by the by, this might interest you, it was a Bishop of Beauvais, rejoicing in the name of “Cochon”, who condemned the Maid of Orleans to be burnt at the stake – and never a night passed without Innstetten going through some kind of incredible experience. Or half going through it. It might have been nothing. And I can see he’s still acting on the same principle now.’
‘All right. And now for a serious question Crampas, to which I want a serious answer: how do you explain all this?’
‘Now there, my dear lady…’
‘No evasions, Major. This is all very important to me. He’s your friend and I’m your friend. I want to know what it’s all about. What goes through his mind?’
‘Well, my lady, God can see into people’s hearts, but a major on the regional staff of the volunteer reserve can’t see into anything much. How can I solve such psychological riddles? I’m a simple man.’
‘Oh, Crampas, don’t be so silly. I may be too young to know much about people; but I would have to be back at my confirmation, almost even my christening, to mistake you for a simple man. You’re the very opposite, you’re a dangerous character…’
‘That’s the most flattering thing you could say to a man well past forty, who’s teetering on the brink of the retired list. So let’s see, what goes through Innstetten’s mind…’
Effi nodded.
‘Well, if I have to commit myself, what goes through his mind is that a man like Landrat Baron Innstetten who might any day be given some senior ministerial post or the like, for believe me he’s aiming high, that a man like Baron Innstetten can’t live in an ordinary house, can’t live in a cottage, for that, if you’ll pardon me, is what the Landrat’s residence actually is. So he gives it a little enhancement. A haunted house can never be ordinary… That’s the first thing.’
‘The first thing? For goodness sake, is there more to come?’
‘Yes.’
‘I see, well, I’m all ears. But let it be something good, if possible.’
‘I’m not quite sure about that. It’s delicate, risqué almost, especially for your ears, my dear lady.’
‘That makes me even more curious.’
‘Well then. The thing is, my dear lady, besides his burning desire to make a career for himself, whatever the cost, even if he has to recruit his own private ghost, Innstetten has one other passion: he always has to improve everybody, he’s a born pedagogue, and the proper place for him, with Basedow to the left of him and Pestalozzi to the right (though he’s more religious than either), would have been the College at Schnepfenthal or Bunzlau.’
‘And he wants to improve me too? Improve me by exposing me to a ghost?’
‘Improve is perhaps not the right word. But yes, in a roundabout way, improve you.’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘A young wife is a young wife, and a Landrat is a Landrat. He’s often on the road in his district, and then the house is alone, uninhabited. But a ghost is like a cherub with a sword…’
‘Ah, now we’re out of the wood at last,’ said Effi. ‘And there’s Utpatel’s mill. There’s only the churchyard to pass now.’
Soon afterwards they went down the sunken path between the churchyard and the plot with the railing round it, and Effi looked across to the stone and the pine-tree where the Chinaman lay.
17
It struck two as they got back. Crampas took his leave and rode into the town, stopping in front of his house on the market square, while Effi changed from her outdoor clothes and tried to sleep; but she couldn’t, as her irritation was greater than her fatigue. For Innstetten to muster a ghost so as not to live in an absolutely ordinary house might pass at a pinch, that fitted in with his desire to distinguish himself from the crowd; but the idea of using the ghost to improve her, that was really too much, it was almost insulting. And ‘improvement’, that much was clear to her, was only half the story, the lesser half; what Crampas had meant was more, much more, it was a kind of device calculated to frighten her. Here was a total lack of goodness of heart, verging on cruelty. The blood rushed to her head and she clenched her little fingers, suddenly determined to make plans; but presently she had to laugh again. ‘What a child I am! What guarantee have I that Crampas is right! Crampas is amusing because he has a malicious tongue, but he’s unreliable, just a poseur, he’s not a patch on Innstetten when all’s said and done.’
At that moment Innstetten drove up, home earlier than usual. Effi sprang to her feet to greet him in the hallway with particular affection, for she had the feeling that she had to make up for something. Yet she couldn’t fully get over what Crampas had told her, and for all her affection, as she listened to him with seeming interest, she kept thinking to herself ‘So the ghost is calculated, it’s a ghost to keep me in order.’
But it went out of her mind in the end and she relaxed and listened to what he had to tell her.
By now it was the middle of November, and the nor’wester increased to gale force, blowing so hard against the moles for a day and a half that it forced the Kessine back against the Bulwark and flooded the streets. But after it had blown itself out the bad weather subsided and a few more sunny late autumn days followed. ‘Who knows how long they will last,’ Effi said to Crampas, and so they decided to go for another ride the next morning; Innstetten meant to join the party too, as he had a free day. Their intention was to go first to the mole where they would dismount and take a short walk on the beach, rounding it off with breakfast in the lee of the dunes where there was no wind.
At the appointed hour Crampas rode up to the Landrat’s residence; Kruse was already holding his mistress’s horse and she swiftly climbed into the saddle, making Innstetten’s excuses as she did so; he couldn’t come after all: there had been another big fire the night before in Morgenitz – the third in three weeks, deliberate it would seem – and he had had to go out there, to his great chagrin, for he had been really looking forward to this ride, which would probably be the last of the autumn.
Crampas expressed his regret, perhaps just for something to say, perhaps genuinely, for reckless though he was in his amorous adventures, he was still a good fellow to his friends. Superficially, of course. To help a friend one minute and deceive him five minutes later were things his concept of honour had no trouble in accommodating. He did both the one and the other with astounding bonhomie.
The outing took its usual route through the Plantation. Rollo ran ahead, then came Crampas and Effi, followed by Kruse. Knut was missing.
‘What have you done with Knut?’ Effi asked.
‘He has mumps.’
‘That’s remarkable,’ laughed Effi. ‘Actually he’s always looked as if he had mumps.’
‘Very true. But you should see him now. Or rather you shouldn’t. For mumps are infectious, even the sight of them is enough.’
‘Don’t believe it.’
‘There are a lot of things young women don’t believe.’
> ‘And then again they believe a lot of things they’d be better off not believing.’
‘Is that directed at me?’
‘No.’
‘Pity.’
‘That “pity” is you all over. You know, Major, I really believe you would think it was quite in order if I made you a declaration of love.’
‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. But I would like to see the man who didn’t wish for something along those lines. Thoughts are free, and wishes too.’
‘I doubt that. And anyway, there’s quite a difference between thoughts and wishes. Thoughts as a rule are something kept in the background, whereas wishes are on the tip of your tongue.’
‘Not that old comparison.’
‘Oh Crampas, you’re… you’re…’
‘A fool.’
‘No. There you go exaggerating again. But you’re something else. In Hohen-Cremmen we always used to say, myself included, there was nothing vainer than an ensign in the Hussars at eighteen –’
‘And now?’
‘Now I would say there’s no-one vainer than a major in the local reserve at forty-two.’
‘In saying which the two years you graciously concede make up for all the rest. I kiss your hand.’
‘Yes, “I kiss your hand”, that’s absolutely the right turn of phrase for you. That’s what they say in Vienna. And I got to know the Viennese in Karlsbad four years ago where they courted me outrageously although I was only a young thing of fourteen. If you knew what I heard then.’
‘Nothing undeserved, I’m sure.’
‘If that were true, then what I’m supposed to feel flattered by would be rather rude… But look at the buoys bobbing and dancing in the water out there. The little red flags have been taken in. Last summer, on the few occasions I ventured as far as the beach, when I saw the red flags, I said to myself, that’s Vineta, that’s where Vineta must be, those are the tops of the towers…’
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