‘Yes? Tell me.’
‘That’s my secret. I want to have a secret too. Then I can surprise you with it.’
At that moment Friedrich came in with the post. It was mostly official communications and newspapers. ‘Ah, there’s a letter for you too,’ said Innstetten. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, it’s your mother’s writing.’
Effi took the letter. ‘Yes, it’s from Mamma. But it’s not postmarked Frie-sack; look, it clearly says Berlin.’
‘So it does,’ laughed Innstetten, ‘You’re acting as if it’s a miracle. Your mother must be in Berlin, and she’s written her darling a letter from her hotel.’
‘Yes,’ said Effi, ‘you’re probably right. But I’m almost afraid, and I don’t take any comfort in what Hulda Niemeyer always used to say on the subject: that it’s better to fear than to hope. What do you think Geert?’
‘Not quite up to the mark for a pastor’s daughter. But do read the letter. Here’s a paper-knife.’
Effi slit open the envelope and read:
My dear Effi,
I’ve been here in Berlin for 24 hours; consultations with Schweigger. As soon as he saw me he congratulated me, and when I asked in astonishment what for, I was told that Wüllersdorf, the permanent secretary, had just been to him and told him Innstetten had been posted to the Ministry. I’m a little annoyed at hearing this from a third party. But I’m so proud and so happy for you that you’re forgiven. I always knew (even when I. was still with the Rathenowers) that he was destined for great things. And now you are going to reap the benefit. You must naturally have a place of your own, newly furnished. And if, my dear Effi, you feel my advice can be of assistance, come up as soon as you can make time. I’m staying a week to take a cure here, maybe a little longer if it doesn’t have the desired effect; Schweigger is being somewhat vague about it. I’ve taken a private apartment in Schadowstrasse; there are still vacant rooms beside mine. I’ll tell you about the problem with my eye when I see you; all I’m concerned about at the moment is the future of the pair of you. Briest will be absolutely delighted, he puts on a show of indifference to these things, but really it means more to him than to me. Kind regards to Innstetten, kiss Annie from me – perhaps you will bring her with you.
As always,
Your affectionate and loving mother,
Luise von B.
Effi laid the letter aside and said nothing. She was clear about what she was going to do; but she didn’t want to be the one to say it, she wanted Innstetten to do that, then she would give her hesitant assent.
Innstetten fell right into the trap. ‘Well Effi, why so silent?’
‘Oh Geert, there are two sides to everything. On the one hand I’d be so happy to see Mamma again, perhaps in a few days’ time. But there’s so much against the idea too.’
‘What?’
‘Mamma, as you know, has such fixed ideas and she only knows her own wishes. With Papa she has always been able to get her own way. But I want a place that’s to my taste, and newly furnished to suit me.’
Innstetten laughed. ‘Is that all?’
‘Well, that would be enough. But it isn’t all.’ And at this point she collected herself and looked him in the eye and said, ‘And then Geert, I don’t want to leave you again straight away.’
‘Minx, you’re just saying that because you know my weak spot. But we all have our vanity, so I’ll believe it. I’ll believe it, but at the same time I’ll play the heroic role of renunciation. Go as soon as you think fit, as soon as your heart will allow.’
‘You mustn’t talk like that Geert. “Your heart will allow” – what’s that supposed to mean? You’re as good as forcing me to play the sweet young thing who, out of pure coquetry, must reply, “Oh Geert, then I can never go.” Or something of the sort.’
Innstetten wagged a finger at her. ‘Effi, you’re too subtle for me. I always thought you were a child, and now I see that in fact, like most women, you’ve got the measure of your husband. But let’s drop the subject, or as your Papa always used to say, “that’s too vast a subject.” Just tell me when you’re going.’
‘Today’s Tuesday. Let’s say Friday on the midday boat. Then I’ll be in Berlin by evening.’
‘Settled. And when will you be coming back?’
‘Well, let’s say Monday evening. That’s three days.’
‘Can’t be done. That’s too soon. You can’t do everything in three days. And your mother won’t let you go so soon anyway.’
‘Well, when I choose then.’
‘All right.’
And with that Innstetten rose to go across to the Landrat’s office.
The days until her departure flew by. Roswitha was very happy. ‘Oh my lady, Kessin, well… it’s not Berlin, is it? And them ’orse-trams. And when the bell rings and you don’t know whether to go right or left, sometimes I thought it was all goin’ to run right over me. No, there’s nothin’ like it ’ere. I do believe some days we don’t see ’alf a dozen people. And never anythin’ but the dunes and out there the sea. It roars and roars, but that’s all there is to it.’
‘Yes Roswitha, you’re right. It roars and roars all the time, but it’s no life really. And you get all sorts of foolish ideas. You can’t deny it, that business with Kruse was not proper.’
‘Oh my lady…’
‘Now I’m not going to enquire into that any further. You won’t admit it, which is only natural. And don’t take too few things with you. In fact you can take all of your things and Annie’s too.’
‘I thought we were coming back.’
‘Yes, I am. The Master wishes it. But you can perhaps stay, at my mother’s. Just make sure she doesn’t spoil Annie too much. She was sometimes very strict with me, but a grandchild…’
‘And Wee Annie’s so sweet. Nobody can resist ’er.’
That was on Thursday, the day before their departure. Innstetten was away and was not expected back until the evening. In the afternoon Effi went into town as far as the market square, and there she went into the chemist’s and asked for a bottle of sal volatile. ‘One never knows who one will be travelling with,’ she said to the old assistant to whom she usually chatted and who adored her as Gieshübler himself did.
‘Is Dr Gieshübler at home?’ she went on to ask, after she had put the bottle in her bag.
‘Indeed, my lady; he’s in the next room, reading the newspapers.’
‘I wouldn’t be disturbing him?’
‘Oh never.’
And Effi went through to a small high room with shelves round it on which there were all sorts of flasks and retorts; on one of the walls there were alphabetically ordered boxes with iron rings on the front in which prescriptions were kept.
Gieshübler was delighted and embarrassed. ‘What an honour. Here among my retorts. May I invite your ladyship to be seated for a moment?’
‘Of course, Gieshübler, but really just for a moment. I want to say goodbye.’
‘But my dearest lady, surely you’ll be back. Just for three or four days, I heard…’
‘Yes dear friend, that’s the intention, and it’s arranged that I’ll be in Kessin again in a week at the latest. But it’s also possible I may not come back. I don’t have to tell you that there are a thousand possibilities… I can see you’re about to tell me I’m too young… young people die too. And then there are so many other things. So I want to take my leave of you as if it were for ever.’
‘But my dearest lady…’
‘As if it were for ever. And I want to thank you, dear Gieshübler. For me you’ve been the best thing about this place, because of course you’re the best person there is here. And if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget you. I’ve felt lonely here at times, and sometimes I’ve had a heavy heart, heavier than you can imagine; I haven’t always done the right thing; but from the very first day, whenever I have seen you, I’ve felt better in body and spirit.’
‘But my dear lady.’
‘And I wanted to th
ank you for that. I’ve just bought a bottle of sal volatile; sometimes there are very peculiar people in your compartment who won’t even let you open the window – and then perhaps if my eyes fill with tears – for they sometimes go to your head, the salts I mean – I’ll think of you. Good-bye dear friend, and give my regards to your lady friend, Miss Trippelli. I’ve thought of her often these last weeks, and of Prince Kochukov. It’s an odd relationship though. But I can see how it must… And do keep in touch. Or I’ll write.’
With that Effi left. Gieshübler accompanied her out into the square. He seemed dazed, so much so that he entirely failed to notice several puzzling things she had said.
Effi went back home. ‘Bring me the lamp Johanna,’ she said, ‘but take it into my bedroom. And then a cup of tea. I’m so cold, and I can’t wait until the Master comes back.’
Both were brought in. Effi was already sitting at her little writing-table, pen in hand with a sheet of paper before her. ‘Put the tea on the table over there please Johanna.’
When Johanna had left the room again, Effi locked herself in, looked in the mirror for a moment, then sat down again. And now she wrote:
I am leaving tomorrow by boat and this note is to say good-bye. Innstetten expects me back in a few days, but I’m not coming back, ever… And you are aware of the reason… It would have been best if I had never set eyes on this corner of the earth. I entreat you not to construe this as a reproach; the guilt is all mine. When I look at your domestic situation… your behaviour may be excusable, not mine. My guilt weighs very heavy on me. But I may yet escape from it. That we have been transferred from here I take as a sign that I may yet be accorded mercy. Forget what has happened, forget me.
Yours,
Effi
She ran her eye over the lines once more. They seemed strangely formal, but that was how it had to be; it was to indicate that there was no longer any bridge between them. Then she put the note in an envelope and went to a house between the churchyard and the corner of the woods. A thin column of smoke rose from the delapidated stump of the chimney. She handed in the note.
When she got back Innstetten was already there and she sat down with him and told him about Gieshübler and the sal volatile.
Innstetten laughed. ‘Where did you get your Latin from Effi?’
The ship, a small sailing ship – the steamers only operated in the summer – left at twelve. Innstetten and Effi were on board a quarter of an hour early, as were Roswitha and Annie.
They had more luggage than a trip planned for so few days seemed to call for. Innstetten talked to the captain; Effi, in a raincoat and a light grey travelling hat, stood on the afterdeck near the wheel, and from there surveyed the Bulwark and the pretty row of houses that ran along the Bulwark’s line. Directly opposite the landing-stage was Hoppensack’s Hotel, a three-storey building whose yellow flag with cross and crown on it hung limply from the gabled roof in the still, rather misty air. Effi looked up at the flag for a while, then her eye glided down and finally came to rest on a group of people gathered curiously on the Bulwark. At that moment the bell was rung. It was an odd feeling for Effi as the boat slowly started to move, and when she surveyed the landing-stage once more she saw that Crampas was standing in the front row. She was startled to see him, but pleased as well. He, for his part, his whole bearing changed, was visibly moved and waved earnestly to her, a greeting she returned equally earnestly, though at the same time most amicably; as she did so there was an appeal in her eyes. Then she went quickly to her cabin where Roswitha had already installed herself with Annie. Here, in the somewhat stuffy interior, she remained until they had left the river and sailed into the wide bay of the Breitling; then Innstetten came and called her up on deck to see how magnificent the view was just there. So she went up. Grey clouds hung over the surface of the water and only occasionally was there a half-veiled glint of sunlight through the cloud cover. Effi’s thoughts went back to the day, fifteen months before, when she had driven along the shore of this self-same Breitling in an open carriage. A short span of time, and often such a quiet and lonely life. And yet the things that had happened since then!
And so they sailed up the waterway and by two they were at or at least very near the station. When soon afterwards they passed the Prince Bismarck Inn, Golchowski was once more standing in the doorway, and he did not fail to accompany the Landrat and his lady to the steps up the embankment. At the top the train had not yet been announced and Effi and Innstetten walked up and down the platform. Their conversation centred on the question of where to live; they were agreed on the district and that it had to be between the Tiergarten and the Zoological Garden. ‘I want to hear the song of the finches, and the parrots too,’ said Innstetten, and Effi concurred.
Then they heard the signal and the train drew in; the stationmaster was most obliging and Effi was given a compartment to herself.
Another handshake, a wave of a handkerchief, and the train drew out again.
23
Friedrichstrasse station was crowded; but nonetheless, Effi had recognized her mother from the compartment, and Cousin Briest beside her. Their joy at the reunion was great, waiting in the luggage hall was not too severe a test of their patience, and in little more than five minutes their cab was trundling alongside the horse tram rails into Dorotheenstrasse in the direction of Schadowstrasse where the pension stood on the first corner. Roswitha was overjoyed, and delighted at Annie who stretched her little hands out towards the lights.
Then they were there. Effi was given her two rooms, not as expected beside Frau von Briest, but off the same lobby, and when everything had been put away properly, and Annie was safely tucked up in her cot, Effi reappeared in her mother’s room, a little drawing-room with a fireplace and a modest fire in the grate, the weather being mild, almost warm. Three places were set at a round table with a green-shaded lamp, and on a little side-table stood the tea things.
‘Your apartment is charming, Mamma,’ said Effi as she sat down opposite the sofa, only to get up again immediately afterwards and busy herself at the tea table. ‘May I play the waitress again?’
‘Of course you may, my dear Effi. But just for you and Dagobert. For my part, I must abstain, which is not at all easy.’
‘I understand, because of your eyes. Tell me Mamma, what is it that’s wrong with them? In the cab, and it did rattle so, we talked the whole time about Innstetten and our grand career, far too much and it won’t do, believe me; your eyes are more important to me, and in one respect, thank goodness, I find them quite unaltered. When you look at me they’re just as kind as ever.’ And she rushed over to her mamma and kissed her hand.
‘Effi, you’re so impetuous. Just the same old Effi.’
‘Oh no Mamma. Not the same at all. I wish I were. Marriage changes one.’
Cousin Briest laughed. ‘I don’t see much change, cousin; you’re prettier than ever, that’s all. And I don’t imagine it’s put an end to your impetuousness yet either.’
‘The same old cousin,’ Frau von Briest affirmed; Effi herself wouldn’t hear of it and said, ‘Dagobert, for all your talents, you don’t know much about people. It’s strange. You officers don’t seem to understand people, the young ones certainly don’t. All you look at is yourselves and your recruits, and of course the horses in the case of the cavalry. That bunch know absolutely nothing.’
‘But cousin, where does this wisdom come from? You don’t know any officers. Kessin, I read somewhere, decided to do without the Hussars it was to be allocated, incidentally a unique phenomenon in the history of the world. Or are you talking about the old days? You were still half a child then, when the Rathenow officers came over to visit.’
‘I could say that children are the most observant. But I won’t, that’s all beside the point. What I want to know is how Mamma’s eyes are.’
Frau von Briest proceeded to tell them that the eye specialist had diagnosed congestion in the brain. That was what was causing the blurring. It was
to be brought under control by diet; beer, coffee, tea – all to be cut out, and she was to have local blood-letting from time to time, then it would soon improve. ‘He said a fortnight or so. But I know doctors’ forecasts. A fortnight means six weeks, and I’ll still be here when Innstetten arrives and you move into your new apartment. And I can’t deny that that’s the best thing about all this, indeed the only thing that reconciles me in advance to what I suspect will be a long course of treatment. So just look for something really nice. I thought of Landgrafenstrasse or Keithstrasse, elegant but not too expensive. For you will have to be careful with money. Innstetten’s post is very prestigious, but it doesn’t bring in all that much. And Briest is complaining too. Prices are falling, and he tells me every day that if they don’t bring in protective tariffs he’ll have to give up Hohen-Cremmen and get out the begging-bowl. You know how he likes to exaggerate. But help yourself Dagobert, and then if you can, tell us a nice story. People’s ailments are always tedious, and even one’s nearest and dearest only listen because they’ve no alternative. I’m sure Effi would like to hear a story too, something from the Fliegende Blätter or Kladderadatsch, though they say it’s not what it used to be.’
‘Oh, it’s still as good ever. It still has Strudelwit and Prudelwit, and that’s enough on its own.’
‘My favourite is Charlie Miessnick and Wee Wippy from Bernau.’
‘Yes, they’re the best. But Wee Wippy, if you’ll pardon me, my beautiful cousin, isn’t in Kladderadatsch, and anyway he’s out of a job at the moment, there isn’t a war on. Pity. Chaps like me would also like to have a go and get rid of – and he ran his finger over his uniform from his button-hole to his armpit – ‘this awful empty space.’
‘Oh, that’s all just vanity. Tell us a joke instead. What’s the latest?’
‘Well, dear cousin, we have a curious state of affairs. It’s not everybody’s cup of tea. What we have at the moment are Bible jokes.’
Effi Briest Page 22