‘Exactly.’
‘So I am to seek agreement for occasional meetings at your house where you can try to win back your child’s affection.’
Effi once again expressed her assent while the Minister’s wife went on, ‘I shall do what I can then, my dear lady. But it won’t be easy. Your husband, you’ll excuse me if I continue to call him that, is not a man of moods and whims, he’s a man of principle, and to give up his principles, or even just relax them momentarily, will be hard for him. If that were not so, his behaviour and the way he is bringing up his daughter would have changed long ago. What is hard for your heart is what he considers to be right.’
‘So perhaps your Excellency, you think it would be better to withdraw my request?’
‘Not at all. I was merely seeking to explain your husband’s actions, not to justify them. At the same time I was trying to indicate the problems which we are likely to encounter. But I think we’ll manage it just the same. For we women, if we go about it cleverly, and don’t overdo it, can achieve all sorts of things. In addition to which your husband is a particular admirer of mine, and is unlikely to refuse any request that comes to him through me. We’re having a cercle intime tomorrow at which I shall see him, and the day after tomorrow you’ll have a note from me in the morning to tell you whether I’ve gone about it cleverly, by which I mean successfully, or not. I think we shall win our cause and you will have the pleasure of seeing your child again. She’s said to be a very pretty girl. Which is not surprising.’
33
Two days later, as promised, a note arrived, and Effi read:
I am pleased, my dear lady, to be able to give you good news. It all went as we wished; your husband is too much of a man of the world to be capable of refusing a lady’s request; however – and this I must not conceal from you – I could see clearly his agreement did not correspond to what he considers wise and proper. But we mustn’t quibble when we should be rejoicing. What we have arranged is that your Annie will come around midday, and may a propitious star smile on your reunion.
It was the second post that brought Effi this note, so presumably Annie would be arriving in less than two hours. A short time, but still too long, and Effi paced restlessly through the two rooms and then back into the kitchen, where she talked to Roswitha about anything and everything: the ivy across the road on the Christuskirche, and how by next year the windows would be completely overgrown, the concierge who once again had not turned off the gas tap properly (they would all be blown sky-high one of these days), how next time she should go back to the big lamp supplier on Unter den Linden for their paraffin instead of to Anhaltstrasse – she talked about everything and anything, but not about Annie, so as to suppress the fears that lurked in her heart in spite of the Minister’s wife’s note, or perhaps because of it.
Now it was midday. At last the doorbell rang timidly and Roswitha went to look through the spy-hole. Yes, it was Annie. Roswitha gave the child a kiss but said not a word, and very quietly, as if there were an invalid in the house, led her from the lobby into the back room and from there to the door into the front room.
‘In you go Annie.’ And with these words, not wishing to intrude, she left the child alone and went back to the kitchen.
Effi was standing at the other end of the room, her back to the pier-glass, when the child entered. ‘Annie!’ But Annie stopped at the door which was half-open, partly out of embarrassment, but partly intentionally too and so it was Effi who ran to the child and lifted her in the air and kissed her.
‘Annie, my darling child, how happy I am. Come here and talk to me,’ and she took Annie’s hand and went over to the sofa to sit down. Annie, still looking timidly at her mother, just stood there and with her left hand reached for the corner of the tablecloth which was hanging down. ‘Did you know, Annie, I saw you once?’
‘Yes, I thought you did too.’
‘Now you must have lots to tell me. My, how you’ve grown. And there’s your scar; Roswitha told me about it. You always were so wild and heedless when you were playing. You get that from your mamma, she was like that too. And what’s happening at school? I expect you’re always top of the class, you look to me as if you are a model pupil and only ever bring home top marks. I’ve also heard that Fraulein von Wedelstadt has praised you. That’s as it should be; I was ambitious too, but I didn’t go to such a good school. Mythology was always my best subject. What are you best at?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh, you must know. Everyone knows that. What did you get the best marks in?’
‘Religion.’
‘There, you see, now I know. Yes, well, that’s very good; I wasn’t so good at that, but that was probably because of the teaching. We only had an ordinand.’
‘We had an ordinand too.’
‘And has he gone now?’
Annie nodded.
‘Why did he go?’
‘I don’t know. Now we have the Minister again.’
‘Whom you all like very much.’
‘Yes. Two girls in the top class are going to convert.’
‘Ah, I see. That’s good. And what’s Johanna doing?’
‘Johanna brought me as far as the house…’
‘And why didn’t you bring her up with you?’
‘She said she would rather stay downstairs and wait opposite, by the church.’
‘And you are to meet her there.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I hope she won’t get impatient. There’s a little garden at the front, and the windows are half-overgrown with ivy, as if it was an old church.’
‘I shouldn’t like to keep her waiting though.’
‘Oh, I see you’re very considerate. I have to be pleased about that. So long as you have the right priorities… And now tell me, how’s Rollo?’
‘Rollo is very good. But Papa says he’s getting so lazy. He lies in the sun all the time.’
‘I can believe that. He was like that when you were quite little… And now Annie, tell me – for today we’ve just met for a short while – are you going to visit me often?’
‘Yes, if I’m allowed.’
‘We could go for a walk in Prince Albrecht’s Gardens.’
‘Yes, if I’m allowed.’
‘Or we’ll go to Schilling’s and have an icecream, pineapple or vanilla – that was what I always used to like best.’
‘Yes, if I’m allowed.’
And this third ‘if I’m allowed’ was the last straw; Effi jumped to her feet and a look burning with something approaching indignation fell upon the child. ‘I think it’s high time you were going Annie. Otherwise Johanna will be getting impatient.’ And she pulled the bell. Roswitha, who was already waiting in the next room, came in at once. ‘Roswitha, take Annie across to the church. Johanna is waiting there. I hope she hasn’t caught cold. I’d be very sorry. My regards to Johanna.’
At that both left.
Scarcely had Roswitha closed the door when Effi, who was on the point of suffocation, tore open her dress and subsided into convulsive laughter. ‘So that’s what a reunion’s like’, and she dashed forward, opened the windows wide and looked for some source of comfort. And in her heart’s hour of need she found something. For there beside the window was a bookshelf, a few volumes of Schiller and Körner, and on top of the volumes of poetry which were all the same size lay a Bible and hymnbook. She picked them up because she had to have something she could kneel and pray to, laid the Bible and hymnbook on the edge of the table, just where Annie had stood, and threw herself down in front of them with a violent jerk and said half out loud, ‘God in heaven, forgive me for what I have done. I was a child… No, no I wasn’t a child, I was old enough to know what I was doing. I did know, and I don’t want to take away from my guilt… but this is too much. For what’s happening here with the child, that’s not you, God, punishing me, it’s him, and him alone! I thought he had a noble heart and I always felt small beside him; but now I know he’s the one who’s small. And b
ecause he’s small, he’s cruel. All things small are cruel. He’s taught it to the child, he was always a schoolmaster. Crampas called him that, making fun of him at the time, but he was right. “Oh yes, if I’m allowed.” You don’t have to be allowed. I don’t want any of you any more, I hate you, even my own child. Too much is too much. A careerist, that’s all he was, nothing else. – Honour, honour, honour… and then he went and shot the poor fellow whom I didn’t even love and whom I’d forgotten because I didn’t love him. It was just stupidity, and now it’s blood and murder. And me to blame. And now he sends me the child because he can’t say no to a Minister’s wife, and before he sends the child, he trains her like a parrot, and the phrase he teaches her is “if I’m allowed”. I’m disgusted at the thought of what I did; but I’m even more disgusted when I think of how virtuous you both are. Away with you. I have to live, but it won’t be for ever.’
When Roswitha came back Effi was lying on the floor, her face turned away, as if lifeless.
34
Rummschüttel, when he was called, found that Effi’s condition gave some cause for concern. The symptoms of hectic fever he had observed in her for some time seemed more pronounced than before, and what was worse, there were also the first signs of a nervous complaint. His calm and kindly manner however, into which he contrived to inject a dash of whimsy, did Effi good, and she was calm as long as Rummschüttel was with her. When he finally left, Roswitha accompanied the old gentleman out into the hall and said, ‘Mary Mother of God, I’m so frightened, Herr Geheimrat; supposin’ it ’appens again, which it could; Mary Mother of God – I’ll never ’ave another moment’s peace. But it did go too far, that business with the child. Poor mistress. And ’er so young. Others are just startin’ at ’er age.’
‘Now, now Roswitha. It’s going to be all right. But she must get away. We’ll have to see. A change of air, fresh faces.’
Two days later a letter arrived at Hohen-Cremmen.
My dear Madam,
My long-standing friendly association with the houses of Briest and Belling and not least the warm affection with which I regard your daughter will justify this letter. Things can’t go on as they are. Unless something happens to take your daughter out of the loneliness and pain of the life she has been leading for some years, she will quickly decline. She always had a tendency to phthisis, which is why, years ago, I prescribed a cure at Ems; this old ailment has now been joined by a new one: her nerves are under severe strain. What is needed to arrest this deterioration is a change of air. But where? It would not be difficult to pick one of the Silesian spas, Salzbrunn would be good, and Reinerz, because of the nervous complication, even better. But the only possible place really is Hohen-Cremmen. For, my dear lady, what your daughter needs to get well is not air alone; she is wasting away because all she has is Roswitha. Loyal servants are good, but loving parents are better. Pardon an old man for meddling in matters that are outside his professional competence. Or perhaps not, for in the final estimate I’m speaking as her doctor in this too and making this demand, if you will pardon the word, out of duty… I’ve seen so much of life… but no more of this. Please remember me to your husband.
Your most respectful servant,
Dr Rummschüttel
Frau von Briest had read this letter to her husband; both were sitting on the shady flagged path with the garden room behind them and the roundel with its sundial in front of them. The Virginia creeper that climbed round the window was moving gently in what light breeze there was, and a few dragonflies hovered over the water in the bright sunshine.
Briest was silent, drumming his fingers on the tea-tray.
‘Please, don’t drum your fingers; say something instead.’
‘Oh, Luise, what is there to say. My drumming my fingers says it all. You’ve known for a long time what I think about it. At the time, when Innstetten’s letter came like a bolt from the blue, I agreed with you. But that’s an eternity ago; am I to play the Grand Inquisitor till my dying day? I’m sick and tired of it I can tell you, have been for a long time…’
‘No reproaches Briest, please; I love her just as much as you do, perhaps more. We all have our own ways. But we’re not in this world just to be weak and affectionate and make allowances for every infringement of the law and the commandments and what people condemn, and – for the time being at least – rightly condemn.’
‘Oh, come on. One thing’s more important.’
‘Of course one thing’s more important, but what is it?’
‘Parents’ love for their children. And then if you only have the one…’
‘Then you say goodbye to catechism and morality, and the claims of Society.’
‘Oh, Luise, catechism if you like and as much as you like, but don’t talk to me about “society”.’
‘It’s difficult to get along without society.’
‘Without a child too. And believe me Luise, “society” can turn a blind eye whenever it suits. This is how I see the matter: if the officers from Rathenow come over, that’s fine by me, and if they don’t, that’s fine by me too. I’m just going to telegraph, “Come back Effi.” Do you agree?’
She stood up and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Of course I do. Only don’t reproach me. It’s not an easy step we’re taking. The moment we do it, our life will change.’
‘I can put up with that. The rape seed is doing well and I can go coursing in the autumn. And I can still enjoy my red wine. And once I have my child back in the house again, it’ll taste even better… Now I’m going to send that telegram.’
Effi had been in Hohen-Cremmen for over six months now. She lived in the two rooms on the first floor that she used to have when she came to visit; the larger one was arranged for her personal use and Roswitha slept in the next room. The benefits that Rummschüttel had expected from her staying there, surrounded by kindness, had been realized, as far as they could be. Her cough subsided, the severe expression that had robbed her kindly face of much of its charm faded and there were days when she could laugh again. Kessin and all that was connected with the past there was seldom mentioned, with the sole exception of Frau von Padden, and of course Gieshübler, for whom old Briest had a great fondness. ‘This Alonzo, this Spaniard out of Preciosa who keeps a Mirambo under his roof and raises a Trippelli – he has to be a genius and nobody is going to tell me otherwise.’ And then Effi had no choice but to do her Gieshübler impression, hat in hand, toujours la politesse, giving his endless little bows, all of which, with her talent for mimicry, she could pull off very well, though always with a certain reluctance because she felt she was doing the dear, good man an injustice. There was never any mention of Innstetten or Annie, although Annie was in their will and would inherit Hohen-Cremmen.
Yes, Effi was reviving, and her mother, who, being a woman, was not entirely averse to viewing the whole thing, painful though it was, as an interesting case, rivalled her husband in demonstrations of love and attentive concern.
‘We haven’t had a winter as good as this for a long time,’ said Briest. At that Effi rose from her chair and brushed his thinning hair back from his forehead. But fine as all this looked as far as Effi’s health was concerned, it was all merely on the surface and the truth of the matter was that the illness was still there and continued to eat away at her life unseen. When Effi – who was once again wearing a blue and white striped tunic-style dress with a loose belt as she had the day she became engaged to Innstetten – quickly came up to her parents with a spring in her step to say good morning, they looked at each other in pleasure and surprise; pleasure and surprise, but also sadness because they could not fail to notice that this was not the glow of youth, but a kind of transfiguration that gave the slender figure and shining eyes their peculiar expression. Everyone who observed her closely saw this, and Effi was alone in not seeing it, entirely immersed in the feeling of happiness that came from being back in a place so friendly towards her, so richly peaceful, living in reconciliation with those she ha
d always loved and by whom she had always been loved, even in her years of misery and banishment.
She busied herself with all sorts of household tasks and saw to little improvements and embellishments about the house. Her aesthetic sense meant that she always got these things right. But her reading and above all her painting and drawing she had abandoned altogether. ‘I’ve had so much of these things that I’m glad I can sit with my hands in my lap now.’ They also no doubt reminded her too much of sad times. She developed the art of looking with quiet delight at nature instead, and when the leaves of the plane trees fell, when the rays of the sun glittered on the ice on the little pond or the first crocus flowered in the roundel when it was still half in winter’s grip – all these things did her good and she could look at them for hours and forget what life had denied her, or perhaps more accurately, what she herself had thrown away.
They were not entirely without visitors; not everybody was against her; but her main contact was with the school-house and the parsonage.
That the daughters of the school-house had flown the nest did not matter much, it wouldn’t have been the same, but her relationship with Jahnke himself – who regarded not only Swedish Pomerania but also the whole Kessin district as an outlying part of Scandinavia and was constantly asking questions about it – her relationship with this old friend was closer than ever. ‘Yes Jahnke, we had a steamer, and as I believe I wrote to you, or perhaps have told you, I really once almost got across the sea to Visby. Imagine, almost as far as Visby. It’s funny, but there are a lot of things in my life, actually, of which I can say “almost”.’
‘A pity, a pity,’ said Jahnke.
‘Yes, it is a pity of course. But I did drive round Rugen. That would have been something for you Jahnke. Imagine, Arkona with a big Wendish camp you can still see, or so they say, for I didn’t get that far; but not too far away there’s Lake Hertha with the white and yellow water-lilies. I thought a lot about your Hertha there…’
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