Erichsen nodded.
“Well gentlemen,” laughed Holk, “I shall make use of your information but I can’t agree that my own situation is very greatly improved by it. The difficulties merely cancel each other out. What is supposed to protect me from a political discussion is almost more difficult than the political discussion itself, at least for me. You forget that I’m not an initiate and that in spite of my occasional visits, I only know Copenhagen quite superficially from Dagbladet or the Flyveposten. Countess Danner and Berling or Danner and Blixen-Fineke—it seems that I’m supposed to be able to talk about them impromptu. But what do I know about them? Nothing but what I have learnt from the latest review, and the Princess knows that too, because she reads reviews and papers all day and all night. I have nobody but Frau Hansen who is hardly adequate as a source of information.”
“You are quite mistaken, Holk. When you say that, you have no idea of Frau Hansen—or her daughter. They are a complete work of reference for everything that happens in Copenhagen. Where they learn it all is a mystery. Some people talk of Dionysus’ ears, others of an underground passage, others of a special Hansen telescope that is able to extract from their hiding-place things hidden to mortal eye. And last of all, there are those who speak of a chief of police. To me, this seems the most likely supposition. But whatever it is, one thing is certain and that is that those two women—or ladies if you like, since their social status is difficult to ascertain—both know everything that there is to know, and if you appear on duty every morning with ammunition supplied by Frau Hansen, then I guarantee that you will be proof against any tricky political discussions. The Hansens—especially the younger one—know more about Countess Danner than she does herself. You see, police officials have, as it were, something of a diviner’s or a poet’s skill in this most fascinating sphere, and if nothing can be discovered, then it has to be invented …”
“You are making me see our good Frau Hansen in quite a new light. I had assumed the very greatest respectability …”
“And so there is, in a certain sense …. When there’s no prosecution, there’s no case …”
“And in those circumstances, I shall have to be extremely cautious …”
“Now there I venture to disagree. The disadvantages of such a course are obvious and the advantages highly questionable. In that house, nothing can be concealed, even supposing your character made it possible. The Hansens can read into your very soul and the best thing that I can advise is to be completely free and natural and to talk as much as possible. Talking a great deal is an excellent thing and in some cases it is by far the best diplomacy, because if you talk a great deal, then the details can never be properly ascertained, or better still, one detail cancels out another.”
Erichsen smiled.
“You’re smiling, Erichsen, and smiling becomes you. In addition, however, since a smile, being rather vague in its effect, always suggests all kinds of veiled criticism, it warns me that it is time to release Holk. It’s already a quarter past eleven and the Hansens are respectable folk who don’t like staying up after midnight, at least not if they can be seen from outside and with the hall light on. Moreover, the tables over there have already dispersed. Let me see to the bill; you can wait for me outside.”
Holk and Erichsen strolled up and down until Pentz rejoined them and all three went off to Dronningens-Tværgade where they parted opposite the Hansen’s house. The house was in complete darkness and only the moonlight, between the clouds, was shining on the top-floor windows. Holk lifted the knocker but before he could let it go, the door opened and young Frau Hansen stood before him. She wore a matching skirt and jacket of some light material, simple in cut yet skilfully calculated for effect. In her hand she held a hanging lamp as shown in pictures of ancient Greece. All in all, it was a remarkable mélange of frou-frou and Lady Macbeth. Holk, somewhat taken aback, was speculating how to address the young woman when she anticipated him and, with drooping eyelids expressive of the greatest lassitude, explained that her mother asked to be excused as, although she was quite robust, she needed some sleep before midnight. Holk expressed his regrets at having stayed talking so late, adding at the same time that, next time, there was no need for anyone to wait up for him. The young woman, without saying it in so many words, indicated that they could not allow themselves to be denied the privilege of waiting up for their guest. At the same time, she slowly led the way with her lamp, but stopping at the foot of the stairs, she rested her left hand on the bannisters and held the lamp high in her right hand to show the count upstairs. As she did so, the wide sleeve of her loose coat fell back, baring her very beautiful arm. When Holk reached the top of the stairs, he said good night to the young woman once more, and as she slowly and quietly withdrew along the passage, he saw the play of light and shadow in the hall and staircase gradually diminishing. For a minute or two he stood listening at his half-open door and then, when all was quite dark downstairs, he quietly closed his own door.
“A lovely young woman. But rather uncanny. I must certainly not mention her in my letter to Christine, otherwise she will reply with dreadful reminders about all the dubious females from the Old and the New Testaments.”
11
Before going to sleep, in spite of his tiring journey Holk found his thoughts more preoccupied by the younger Frau Hansen than with politics and princesses. The following morning, however, all this was forgotten, and when he chanced to remember the apparition with the lamp, he merely smiled. He tried to think what goddess or lover was usually depicted in antique wall-paintings as carrying such a lamp but, unable to remember, he finally ceased searching and, pulling the latch, he opened the window to enjoy a breath of fresh air before breakfast. He glanced into the street. There were few people passing through Dronningens-Tværgade at this comparatively early hour but everyone of them was brisk in bearing, blooming and fresh, and he felt that he understood the Danes’ pride at thinking themselves the Parisians of the north, the only difference being that they felt superior to their model. At this moment the curtains billowed out and, looking round, he saw that the widow had come in with a heaped breakfast tray. They exchanged greetings and after the routine inquiry as to how the count had slept and what his dreams had been, “because first dreams always come true,” Frau Hansen laid the cloth and placed everything from the tray on to the breakfast table. Holk studied the magnificent array and said: “There certainly is no better place than Frau Hansen’s. Everything so cheerful, so spick and span, and, most of all, Frau Hansen herself. And the lovely China tea-service! It’s obvious that your late husband was on the China run and, as Baron Pentz was telling me yesterday evening, your son-in-law does the same and is also called Hansen. The same name, the same rank, one could easily find oneself confusing mother and daughter!”
“Ah, Count,” said Frau Hansen, “nobody could confuse us. Me, an old woman who has had such a long and difficult life …”
“Come, come …”
“And Brigitte who will not be thirty until tomorrow! But you mustn’t give me away, Count, and tell her that I told you that it is her birthday tomorrow.”
“I, give you away? Please, Frau Hansen …. But you keep on running round all the time, you’re making me feel giddy. Do you know what you must do? You must sit down and talk to me, always assuming that I am not holding up your house-work or something more important.”
Frau Hansen pretended to be uncertain whether to stay or to go.
“Really, you must make this the first of your kind visits and I hope that you will be making them regularly from now onwards. In any case, I have so many questions on my mind. Please sit down here, here in this chair where I can see you best, and if you can see well, you can hear well. I used to hear very well but in recent years my hearing has let me down now and again. It’s the first sign of old age.”
“You’ll have difficulty in finding anyone to believe that, Count Holk. I believe that you hear everything you want to hear and see everything you
want to see.”
“I hear nothing and see nothing, Frau Hansen, and when I do see something I forget it again. Not quite everything, of course. Yesterday I saw your daughter, Brigitte I think you said her name was; a lovely name into the bargain. Now, nobody could forget her again. You must be proud to have such a beautiful daughter, and what I cannot understand is her husband calmly leaving her here while he sails to and fro between Singapore and Shanghai. At least, I assume that’s what he does because most of them sail between those two ports. Well, I think that a beautiful wife like that ought to be taken everywhere, from the North Pole to the South Pole, don’t you, Frau Hansen? And if not for love, then just because you’re afraid or jealous. And this much I do know, if it were I, I would always say to myself, you mustn’t expect too much from a young woman and you certainly shouldn’t expect miracles. I think we agree on this, don’t we, Frau Hansen? Why does he expose her to such a risk? And, of course, expose himself as well …”
“Ah, that’s a long story, Count Holk …”
“All the better. A love-story can never be too long and I imagine that it must be a love-story.”
“I don’t rightly know if I can call it that; it’s something of a love-story but it is not a proper love-story … only it might easily have become one.”
“You’re making me more and more curious. Incidentally, this is most excellent tea and I can recognize once again the result of all those trips to China. If you want to give me a real pleasure, let me pour you a cup of your own tea.”
He stood up and from a cabinet standing near the window took out a cup on which was written in gold letters: “To the happy couple.” “To the happy couple,” repeated Holk. “Who were they? Perhaps you were one of them, Frau Hansen? You’re laughing …. But one’s never too old to be wise and the wisest thing for a widow …”
“Is to stay a widow.”
“Well, if you like; you may be right. But how about this story …. Captain Hansen, your son-in-law, must certainly be a fine-looking man, all captains are fine-looking men, and Frau Brigitte must certainly have married him for love.”
“That she did, at least she never said the contrary, except on one occasion. But that was later and I’m talking now of the early days when they had only just married. She was very affectionate and loving then, and wherever he went she went with him on board, even where there was yellow fever, and when she came back to Copenhagen … in those days she had her own place, because my husband, whom the count will remember from Glücksburg, was still alive then … now what was I saying, whenever she came back from a long trip, she was always wanting to be off again straightaway because she used to say that she didn’t like the people here, and it was much nicer in the big outside world.”
“But that’s amazing. Was she really as modest and bashful as all that? Didn’t she enjoy being flattered and courted as she certainly must have been here in Copenhagen? They showed her what they thought of her here by the time of her confirmation, I’ll be bound!”
“Indeed they did, but Brigitte paid no attention and she remained the same, even after she was married. Only now and again she seemed a little wild. Everything stayed like that until 1854; I remember exactly, because it was the year the English fleet came here on its way to Russia. And that same summer we had a very young Guards officer here in Copenhagen, who spent all his time in and out of the Rasmussen’s house—I mean Countess Danner but we still always call her Rasmussen—and he got so heavily in debt that he couldn’t be kept on any more and had to leave. But since he was very clever and knew everybody—because he went into all the wealthiest houses and especially those where there were ladies—Baron Scheele, who was Minister in those days, said he would take the lieutenant on with him. And so he took him into the Ministry for Home Affairs, where he still is, and has become very important, too. But in those days, he was still just a young cub, nothing but a very good-looking young man, and when Brigitte saw him, it was the very same day we had news of the bombardment up there, I can’t remember the name, I’m afraid, anyway, she confessed that she was fond of him. And she showed it at once, too. And when Hansen had to go off to China that same autumn, she told him bluntly that she didn’t want to go and she told him the reason, too, or perhaps other people did. The long and the short of it was that when the time came for the ship to leave, Hansen became very serious and refused to take no for an answer and said to her, Brigitte, you must come with me. And though up till then he had been taking her with him for love, now he wanted to take her as you said, Count Holk, as a precaution or because he was jealous.”
“And was it any help? Did the trip cure her of her love? I mean, of her love for the man in the Ministry?”
“Yes, she was cured, although with Brigitte you can never be quite sure, because although she talks a lot, she still keeps a lot to herself. And anyway it doesn’t matter very much because it turned out all right by and large.”
“And how did it turn out by and large?”
“My son-in-law got back his trust in his wife completely. Hansen is really a very good man and he’s quite calm and sensible again now and goes off quite happily to China.”
“I’m delighted to hear that. But in these matters we must be careful not to leave anything out or forget anything. I think, my dear Frau Hansen, that you were going to tell me exactly how it came about that your son-in-law recovered from his jealousy.”
“Yes, I was going to do that and I always say that man decides and God provides and the greater the need, the nearer the help. I must say that I was very worried; a mother is always worried about her child and it makes no difference whether she is married or not; yes, I was worried about Brigitte because I thought there would be a divorce, for she is very strong-willed, you could almost call her obstinate, and very excitable, although she seems so quiet and dreamy at times …”
“Ah yes,” laughed Holk, “that’s often the case, still waters run deep.”
“So I was worried. But it all turned out quite differently and it was just at the same time that Brigitte had, so to speak, been compelled to go away with her husband. This is how it happened. In the course of the trip, Hansen had to take a cargo back to Bangkok, a big town in Siam that I had visited myself many years ago with my husband. When Hansen arrived and had been lying moored in front of the Imperial Palace for a couple of days—the Siamese have an Emperor, you know—a Minister came on board and invited Hansen and his wife to a big official banquet. The Emperor must have seen her. Brigitte sat next to him and talked English and the Emperor kept on looking at her. And after the banquet, he was most gracious and respectful and never took his eyes off her, and when they were leaving, he said to Hansen that he was most anxious for the captain’s wife to come to the palace next day, so that all his friends and intimates and particularly all his wives—he had a great number of wives—could meet the beautiful German lady again face to face. For a moment Hansen was afraid that this flood of honours might mean treachery, for all around the palace there were heads stuck up on sticks just like pineapples; but Brigitte, who had heard them talking, just bowed to the Emperor and said with a proper air of deference, because she has always been very dignified and self-possessed, my Brigitte, she said that she would come at the time he had mentioned.”
“That was very bold.”
“And she really did go and she was placed on a high seat that had been especially erected in front of the palace gates, so that she would be in the shade, and she sat on this throne with a peacock fan and the Emperor put a pearl necklace round her neck. She said that the necklace was a marvellous one. And all the important people of Bangkok filed past and then the ordinary folk and they all kotowed to her and finally there were all the wives, and when the last one had gone Brigitte stood up and walked over to the Emperor to return the peacock-fan and the necklace which she thought had only been lent to her for the ceremony; and the Emperor took them both but gave her back the pearl necklace, so that she could wear it in memory of him always. And
then with the Ministers leading the way and the bodyguard lined up on each side, she was taken back to the landing-stage where Hansen had been watching the whole scene.”
“And then?”
“From that day onwards there was a great change in Brigitte and when she came back here the following winter and the man who had nearly caused her to make a fool of herself tried to see her again, she refused to have anything to do with him, as far as I could see. And when Hansen set off again six months later, Brigitte said that if he had no objection she would rather stay at home because after having received such an honour from an Emperor, it seemed rather strange to her to be with sailors and perhaps have to sleep in a dock-side hotel, where you would hear nothing but native music and smell nothing but gin; and Hansen not only agreed but was highly delighted that she was not going on that trip with him or on any other. There was absolutely no trace of jealousy now and he realized what had happened to Brigitte and was only afraid that it might have been too much for her and that the Emperor of Siam might have gone to her head.”
Holk was doubtful whether to believe the story or to look on it merely as a flight of fancy and perhaps a test of his credulity as well. If Pentz’s hints of yesterday were to be believed, the last supposition was the most probable. Yet, after all, it might be true. What is impossible? And so, in order at least to protect his self-esteem, he asked half ironically: “And where were the white elephants?”
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