Effi Briest (11 page)

The first invitation was for the 14th. There was snow on the ground and for this reason Innstetten decided to make the two-hour journey to the station, from which there was a further hour to go by rail, in the sleigh. ‘Don’t
wait up for me Effi. I can’t possibly be back before midnight; probably it will be two or later. But I won’t disturb you. Take care until I see you tomorrow morning.’ And with that he climbed on to the sleigh and the two pale tan Graditzers raced off through the town and then inland towards the station.

This was the first long separation, almost twelve hours. Poor Effi. How was she to spend the evening? Early to bed was dangerous, then she might wake up and not be able to get to sleep again, and she would listen to every sound. No, best get really tired first and then sleep soundly. She wrote a letter to Mamma and then went to see Frau Kruse whose disturbed condition – she would often have the black hen on her lap until far into the night – filled Effi with sympathy. Her gesture of friendliness, however, was not for one moment returned by the woman as she sat silent and still, brooding to herself in her overheated room, so Effi, once she realized that her visit was more of an intrusion than a pleasure, went away, only pausing to ask the sick woman if she needed anything. But she refused all offers.

It was now evening and the lamps were already lit. Effi went to the window of her room and looked out at the copse with glittering snow lying on its branches. She was totally absorbed by this picture and quite oblivious to what was happening in the room behind her. When she turned round she noticed that Friedrich had laid a place without making a sound and had placed a cabaret service on the sofa-table. ‘Oh, yes, supper, well, I suppose I’ll have to sit down to it.’ But she had no appetite so she stood up again and once more read through the letter she had written to Mamma. If she had felt lonely before, she now felt doubly so. What would she not have given to see the Jahnke redheads come through the door, or even Hulda? Huida was of course always so sentimental and normally only concerned with her own triumphs, but dubious and contestable though these triumphs might be, she would at that moment dearly have liked to hear about them. In the end she opened up the grand piano to play, but it was no use. ‘No, it will just make me utterly melancholy, better to read.’ And so she looked for a book. The first one she could lay her hands on was a fat red travel guide, years out of date, possibly from Innstetten’s time as a lieutenant. ‘Yes, I’ll read some of this, there’s nothing more calming than books like this. The only thing I don’t like about them is the maps, but I’ll take care to avoid all that excruciating small print.’ And so she opened the book at random at page 153. Next door she could hear the tick-tock of the clock and outside Rollo who, since it had turned dark, had abandoned his post in the shed and today as every evening lay stretched out on the large woven mat outside the door of her bedroom. Her awareness of his proximity diminished her sense of abandonment, she almost recovered her good humour, and started to read straight away. The page that lay open before her was an account of the Hermitage,
the well-known margrave’s summer residence near Bayreuth; that tempted her – Bayreuth, Richard Wagner – so she read on. ‘Among the pictures in the Hermitage, one more claims our attention, not for its beauty but for its age and for the person it represents. It is a considerably darkened portrait of a woman, with a small head and severe, somewhat uncanny features, in a ruff which seems to carry the head all by itself. Some hold it to be of an old margravine from the end of the fifteenth century, others are of the opinion that it is the Countess of Orlamünde; there is agreement on the fact that it is a picture of a figure who has attained a certain notoriety in the history of the Hohenzollerns under the name of the “White Lady”.’

‘Just my luck,’ said Effi, pushing the book aside, ‘I want to settle my nerves and the first thing I read is the story of the White Lady, whom I’ve been afraid of for as long as I can remember. But since I’ve opened up a horror story, I may as well read it to the end.’

And she opened the book again and read on. ‘…This particular portrait (whose subject has such a part to play in Hohenzollern family history) plays its part as a picture in the history of Hermitage castle itself, and this is probably connected with the fact that it hangs on a secret door, concealed from outsiders’ eyes, behind which is a staircase leading up from the cellars. It is said that when Napoleon spent the night here, the “White Lady” stepped out of the frame and approached his bed. The Emperor is said to have sat up in terror and called for his adjutant, and to the end of his days he referred in great indignation to this
maudit château
.’

‘I must stop trying to calm myself by reading,’ said Effi. ‘If I read any more I’m sure to come to a vaulted cellar where the devil has ridden off on a wine-cask. I believe there’s a lot of that kind of thing in Germany, and of course a guide-book is bound to have assembled it all. So I’ll just shut my eyes and try as best I can to recreate my Wedding Eve: when the twins couldn’t go on for tears, when Cousin Briest, while everyone was looking uneasily at each other, managed to insist with astonishing dignity that such tears were the key to paradise. He really was charming and always so full of high spirits… And now what about me! Here of all places. Oh, I’m not cut out to be a grand lady. Mamma, she’d have fitted in here, she’d have set the tone as a Landrat’s wife should, and Sidonie Grasenabb would have been all adulation and wouldn’t have given a fig whether she was a believer or not. But me… I’m a child and I’ll always remain one. I once heard that was a good thing. But I don’t know if it’s true. One should always fit in wherever one finds oneself.’ At this moment Friedrich came in to clear the table.

‘What time is it Friedrich?’

‘It’s getting on for nine, my lady.’

‘Oh well, that’s good. Send Johanna to me.’

‘Yes Johanna. I want to go to bed. It’s still early really. But I’m so lonely. Please put this letter in the post and when you get back it will be time. And even if it isn’t.’

Effi took the lamp and went across to her bedroom. Of course, there on the rush-mat was Rollo. When he saw Effi coming he rose to make way and brushed his ears against her hand. Then he lay down again.

Johanna had meanwhile gone over to the Landrat’s office to post the letter. She hadn’t been in any hurry on the way, indeed she had gone as far as to have a chat with Frau Paaschen, the clerk’s wife. About the young lady of the house, naturally.

‘What’s she like, then?’ Frau Paaschen asked.

‘Very young, that’s what she’s like.’

‘Well, that’s no bad thing, in fact just the opposite. The young ones, and this is what’s good about them, are always standing in front of the mirror preening themselves and trying things on, so they don’t notice anything or hear anything and they haven’t yet got to be so that they go about counting the candle-ends and seeing you don’t get a kiss because no one kisses them any more.’

‘Yes,’ said Johanna, ‘that’s how my last mistress was and quite without cause. But there’s nothing like that about our young lady.’

‘Is he very affectionate to her?’

‘Oh very. As you can imagine.’

‘But he leaves her all on her own…’

‘Yes, my dear Paaschen, but you mustn’t forget… there’s Prince Bismarck. And he’s a Landrat after all. And perhaps he intends to go further.’

‘I’m sure he does. And so he will. There’s something about him. That’s what Paaschen always says, and he’s a good judge of folk.’

By the time this errand across the street to the office was over, a quarter of an hour had probably passed, and when Johanna returned, Effi was already sitting in front of the pier-glass waiting.

‘You took a long time, Johanna.’

‘Yes my lady… I am sorry my lady… I ran into Frau Paaschen over there, and I stayed and passed the time a little. It’s so quiet here. You’re always glad when you see anyone you can exchange a few words with. Christel is a good soul but she never talks, and Friedrich is so dim and so cautious too that he’ll never come out with anything. Of course you have to know when to keep quiet, and Frau Paaschen is so nosy and so very common, actually not at all my type; but one is happy to see or hear anything.’

Effi sighed, ‘Yes, Johanna, that’s truly the best thing…’

‘Your ladyship has such beautiful hair, so long and silky.’

‘Yes it’s very soft. But that’s not good, Johanna. Hair and character go together.’

‘They do indeed, my lady. And a soft character is better than a hard one. I have soft hair too.’

‘Yes Johanna, And yours is blond too. That’s what men like best.’

‘Oh that depends a lot, my lady. Many have a weakness for black too.’

‘That’s true,’ laughed Effi, ‘I’ve found that too. It has probably all got to do with something entirely different. But blondes always have a fair complexion, as you do, Johanna, and I’ll bet you have plenty of suitors. I’m very young but even I know that. And then I have a friend who was blond, flaxen-haired really, blonder than you, she was a clergyman’s daughter…’

‘Oh yes…’

‘Johanna, what do you mean “Oh yes”. It sounded rather suggestive and strange, you surely don’t have anything against clergyman’s daughters… She was a very pretty girl, that was what our officers all thought – we had officers, you see, red Hussars from Rathenow in fact – and she knew how to dress, black velvet bodice and a flower, a rose or a heliotrope, and if she hadn’t had such big, protuberant eyes… oh, you should have seen them, Johanna, at least as big as this’ (and Effi laughed as she pulled her right eyelid) ‘– but for that she would have been a real beauty. She was called Hulda, Hulda Niemeyer, and we weren’t as close as all that, but if I had her here now and she was sitting there on the little corner sofa, I would chat with her till midnight or later. I so long for…’ and at this she drew Johanna’s head closer to her… ‘I’m so afraid.’

‘Oh, it’ll pass, my lady, we’ve all felt it.’

‘You’ve all felt it? What does that mean Johanna?’

‘…And if your ladyship is really so afraid, I can sleep here. I’ll take the straw mat and turn a chair over for a headrest, and I’ll sleep here until morning, or until the Master gets back.’

‘He isn’t going to disturb me. He especially promised that.’

‘Or I’ll just sit on the corner sofa.’

‘Yes, that might be all right. No, it won’t do. The Master mustn’t know I’m afraid, he doesn’t like it. He always wants me to be brave and decisive, just like him. But I can’t; I was always susceptible… Of course I can see I’ll have to make an effort and do his bidding in this instance and indeed in everything… And I do have Rollo. He’s lying outside the door.’

Johanna nodded at each word and then lit the candle that was standing on Effi’s bedside table. Then she took the lamp. ‘Does your ladyship require anything further?’

‘No Johanna. The shutters are properly closed, aren’t they?’

‘Just drawn to, my lady. Otherwise it’s so dark and stuffy.’

‘Very well.’

And at that Johanna withdrew; Effi got into bed and pulled the bedclothes tightly round her.

She left the candle burning, because she did not propose to go to sleep just yet, but intended, just as she had done earlier with her Wedding Eve, to review her honeymoon trip and go over everything again in her mind’s eye. But things did not turn out as she had imagined, and she had only just got to Verona and was looking for the house of Juliet Capulet when she dropped off. The stump of candle in the little silver candlestick gradually burned down, then flared one last time and went out.

Effi slept very soundly for a while. But suddenly she sat up with a loud cry, in fact she heard the cry herself, just as she heard Rollo barking outside; from down the hallway his ‘woof, woof’ sounded, muffled and almost fearful. She felt as if her heart were standing still; she could not call out and just at this moment something flitted past her and the door leading to the hallway flew open. But the moment of her greatest terror was also the moment of liberation, because instead of something dreadful, it was Rollo that came up to her, seeking her hand with his muzzle and, once he had found it, lying down on the rug spread out at her bedside. Effi herself had pressed the bell-push three times with her other hand and in less than half a minute Johanna was there, barefoot, her skirt over her arm and a large check shawl thrown over head and shoulders.

‘Thank goodness you’re here, Johanna.’

‘What was it my lady? Your ladyship has had a dream.’

‘Yes, a dream. I must have had a dream… but there was something else too.’

‘And what was that, my lady?’

‘I was sleeping soundly, and suddenly I sat up and called out… perhaps it was a nightmare… nightmares run in the family, Papa has them too and frightens us with them, though Mamma just says he should get a grip on himself, which is easier said than done… so, I sat up, roused from my sleep and cried out, and when I looked round as best I could in the dark something rushed past my bed, just there, just where you’re standing Johanna, and then it was gone. And if I really ask myself what it was…’

‘Well, what was it then my lady?’

‘And if I really ask myself… I don’t like to say this Johanna… but I think it was the Chinaman.’

‘The one from upstairs?’ Johanna tried to laugh, ‘our little Chinaman, the one Christel and me stuck on the back of the chair? Oh, your ladyship
was
dreaming, and even if you were awake it all came out of the dream.’

‘I would like to think so. But at exactly the same moment Rollo barked outside, so he must have seen it too, and then the door flew open and the dear, faithful animal bounded towards me as if he had come to save me. Oh it was awful, my dear Johanna. And I’m so alone, and so young. Oh if only I had somebody here with a shoulder to cry on. But so far away from home… Oh, away from home.’

‘The Master may be here any time.’

‘No, he mustn’t come; he mustn’t see me like this. He might laugh at me and I could never forgive him for that. It was so terrifying, Johanna… you must stay here now… But don’t wake Christel or Friedrich. Nobody must know.’

‘Or maybe I could fetch Frau Kruse, she never sleeps, she sits there all night.’

‘No, no, she’s one of them too. All that business with the black hen, it’s the same kind of thing; no, she mustn’t come. No Johanna, stay here, just you. And it’s a good thing the shutters are just drawn to. Throw them open, and make it good and loud, I want to hear a noise, a human noise… I know it sounds funny but I have to call it that… and then open the window a little so that I have some air and light.’

Johanna did as she was bidden, and Effi sank back into her pillows and soon afterwards into a lethargic sleep.