Effi Briest (22 page)

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Authors: Theodor Fontane

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‘I know about that,’ said Effi brightly. ‘It’s just like our Luch’, and in the midst of her fears she had a sudden sense of melancholy pleasure.

As this conversation was going on Crampas had got down from his sleigh and walked over to Gieshübler’s which had stopped on the far right, to arrange with Innstetten what was to be done now. Knut, he announced, was willing to chance going through, but Knut was stupid and didn’t know what he was talking about; it was something local people must decide. Innstetten, to Crampas’s astonishment, was also for ‘chancing it’, they had to give it
another try – he had seen it before, it was always the same story: these folk had some superstition based on their fears, which were quite unjustified. And it wasn’t to be Knut, who didn’t know what he was doing, but Kruse who would take another run at it, and Crampas was to climb in with the ladies (there was a small seat free at the back), to be on hand if the sleigh overturned. That was after all the worst that could happen.

Crampas now appeared alongside the two ladies with the message from Innstetten and laughed as he carried out his orders, installing himself as instructed on the small seat, which was actually only a cloth-covered rail, and shouting, ‘Off we go then Kruse!’

Kruse had already brought the horses back a hundred paces and was hoping to bring the sleigh through safely by taking a good run at it. But the moment the horses touched the Schloon they sank over their ankles into the sand, and had difficulty in backing out again.

‘It can’t be done,’ said Crampas, and Kruse nodded.

While all this was happening the coaches had come up at last, the Grasenabbs’ in the lead, and once Sidonie had taken her leave with a brief word of thanks to Effi and had taken her back seat facing her father who was smoking his Turkish pipe, the coach advanced on the Schloon without further ado; the horses sank in deep, but the wheels cleared all danger easily, and in less than half a minute the Grasenabbs were trotting away on the other side. The other coaches followed. Effi looked after them, not without envy. But not for long, because in the meantime a solution had been worked out for the sleighs too, a simple one: Innstetten had decided not to force the issue further, but to take the more peaceful alternative, a detour. Exactly, then, what Sidonie had envisaged in the first place. The Landrat’s orders rang out incisively from the right: to stay for the time being on the present side and follow him through the dunes to a wooden bridge further up. When both drivers, Knut and Kruse, had received the message, the major, who had descended with Sidonie to be of assistance, came back to Effi and said, ‘I can’t leave you alone, my lady.’

Effi was momentarily undecided, then moved quickly from one side to the other and Crampas took the seat to her left.

All this might perhaps have been open to misinterpretation, but Crampas knew women well enough not to flatter his own vanity. He could see quite clearly that Effi was only doing the one thing that was proper in the circumstances. It was impossible for her to refuse his company. And so they raced after the other two sleighs, always staying close to the water, with thick dark woods towering on the other side. Effi looked at them and assumed they would eventually travel along the far, landward side of the forest, exactly the same way as they had come in the early afternoon. Innstetten now had
other plans however, and as soon as his sleigh was over the wooden bridge, instead of taking the outer path, he turned into a narrower one through the thick woods. Effi shuddered. Up to that point she had had air and light about her, but not any longer, now the dark treetops arched over her. She began to shake and clenched her fingers together to get a hold on herself. Thoughts and images flashed through her mind, and one of them was the little mother in the poem ‘God’s Wall’, and just as the mother prayed, so too did she pray now that God might build a wall round her. Twice or three times the prayer passed her lips, but then all of a sudden she realized that these words were lifeless. She was afraid, but at the same time she felt as if she were under a spell from which she had no wish to escape.

‘Effi,’ she heard softly in her ear, his voice quivering. Then he took her hand and opened her fingers which she still held clasped together, and covered them with passionate kisses. She felt as if she were about to faint.

When she opened her eyes again they were out of the wood, and a short distance away she heard the bells of the sleighs hurrying on ahead. They became more and more audible, and as they turned from the dunes into the town just before Utpatel’s mill, the little houses with their snow-covered roofs lay on their right.

Effi looked around, and the next moment the sleigh stopped in front of the Landrat’s house.

20

Innstetten, who had watched Effi closely as he lifted her from the sleigh, though he had avoided any utterance about the strange ride
à deux
, was up early next morning and tried to master the displeasure, which still lingered, as best he could.

‘Did you sleep well?’ he said, when Effi came to breakfast.

‘Yes.’

‘Good for you. I can’t say the same myself. I dreamt you had an accident with the sleigh in the Schloon, and Crampas tried to rescue you; at least that’s how I have to describe it, but he went down with you.’

‘The way you said all that was quite peculiar, Geert. There’s some hidden reproach behind it and I can guess why.’

‘How very remarkable.’

‘You don’t think it was right for Crampas to come and offer us his help.’

‘Us?’

‘Yes, us. Sidonie and me. You must have completely forgotten that it was
you who sent Crampas. And once he was sitting opposite me, uncomfortably enough by the way on that painfully narrow rail, was I supposed to turn him out when the Grasenabbs arrived and then all of a sudden the journey went on? I would have made myself look ridiculous, and that’s something you’re so sensitive about. You’ll recall that with your concurrence I’ve gone riding with him on many occasions, and on this occasion I was supposed not to ride with him? It’s wrong, we used to say at home, to show distrust towards a gentleman.’

‘Towards a gentleman,’ said Innstetten pointedly.

‘Isn’t he one? You yourself called him a cavalier, in fact a perfect cavalier.’

‘Yes,’ Innstetten went on, his voice becoming more friendly, though there was still a slight edge of derision in his tone. ‘A cavalier he is, and a perfect cavalier he most definitely is. But a gentleman! My dear Effi, a gentleman is something rather different. Have you ever seen a trace of the gentleman in the man? I haven’t.’

Effi avoided his gaze and said nothing.

‘We seem to be of one mind. And in any case, as you said, it was my own fault; I wouldn’t call it a
faux pas
, not exactly a happy expression in the circumstances. So, my fault and it won’t happen again, not if I can help it. But you too, if I may offer a word of advice, should be on your guard. He’s a man who doesn’t think twice about what he does and says, and he has his own ideas about young women. I know him of old.’

‘I shall bear in mind what you’ve said. Only, I think you misjudge him.’

‘I do
not
misjudge him.’

‘Or me,’ she said with an effort, and tried to meet his gaze.

‘Nor you either, my dear Effi. You’re a charming young woman, but firmness isn’t exactly your speciality.’

He got up to go. As he reached the door Friedrich came in to deliver a note from Gieshübler, which was of course addressed to the baroness. Effi took it. ‘A secret correspondence with Gieshübler,’ she said. ‘Further grounds for jealousy for my lord and master. Or isn’t it?’

‘No, not quite, my dear Effi. I’m foolish enough to make a distinction between Crampas and Gieshübler. They are not of the same carat. Carats can be a measure of purity in people too. I personally, if I may say so, far prefer Gieshübler’s white jabot, although nobody wears jabots any more, to Crampas’s golden red sapper’s beard. But I don’t imagine that’s the woman’s view.’

‘You think us weaker than we are.’

‘A comfort that is for practical purposes extraordinarily inconsequential. But let’s drop this. Read the letter instead.’

And Effi read:

May I enquire how my dear lady finds herself? All I know is that you safely escaped the Schloon: but there were hazards enough in travelling through the woods. Dr Hannemann is just back from Uvagla and has set my mind at rest regarding Mirambo; yesterday he thought the injury was more serious than he wanted to tell us, but not today. It was a delightful trip.

In three days we shall celebrate New Year. We shall have to make do without festivities the like of last year’s; but there will of course be a ball, and to have you favour the dancers with an appearance would bring joy to the entire assembly, not least to

                         Your humble servant,
                                                             Alonzo G.

Effi laughed. ‘Well, what do you say?’

‘What I said before, that I prefer to see you with Gieshübler than with Crampas.’

‘Because you take Crampas too seriously and Gieshübler not seriously enough.’

Innstetten wagged a finger at her in jest.

Three days later it was New Year’s Eve. Effi appeared in a charming ball-gown, one of her Christmas presents; she did not dance, but took a seat with the older ladies for whom armchairs were provided close by the musicians’ gallery. From the aristocratic families with whom the Innstettens consorted for preference no one had come, because shortly before a little contretemps had occurred with the town’s Club committee, which had yet again been accused by old Güldenklee of ‘radical tendencies’; three or four other aristocratic families had come however, who were not members but always came as guests, and whose estates lay on the other side of the Kessine; some of them had travelled a long distance over the frozen river, and they were delighted to join in the celebrations. Effi sat between the widow of old Ritterschaftsrat von Padden and the somewhat younger Frau von Titzewitz. The Ritterschaftsrat’s widow, a wonderful old lady and a real eccentric, attempted to counterbalance what nature had bestowed on her from the heathen, Wendish side, especially in the form of prominent high cheekbones, with strict observance of the Germanic Christian faith. She carried this strictness to such lengths that even Sidonie von Grasenabb seemed like a freethinker by comparison, but against this – perhaps because the Radegast and Swantowit branches of the family were united in her – she had the old
von Padden sense of humour which had reposed in the family like a blessing for many a year, and delighted all who came into contact with her, even if they were opponents in church and politics.

‘Now tell me my child,’ said the Ritterschaftsrat’s widow, ‘how is life treating you, really?’

‘Well, my lady, I have a most excellent husband.’

‘I know. But that doesn’t always help. I also had an excellent husband. What about here? No hostility?’

Effi was startled and touched at the same time. There was something uncommonly pleasant in the free and natural tone in which the old lady spoke, and the fact that she was such a devout woman made it even more pleasant.

‘Oh, my lady…’

‘There you are, you see. I’ve seen it before. It’s always the same. Times don’t change, not in that. And perhaps that’s how it should be. For the main thing, my dear young woman, is to fight. One always has to wrestle with one’s natural instincts. And when one has them down and almost wants to cry out, because it’s so painful, that’s when the sweet angels rejoice.’

‘Oh, my lady, it’s sometimes so hard.’

‘Of course it’s hard. But the harder it is the better. You should be pleased. The call of the flesh remains, and I have grandsons and granddaughters so I see it every day. But my dear woman, to conquer oneself in the faith, that’s what matters, that is the real thing. Our old Martin Luther, that man of God, showed us that. Do you know his
Table Talk
?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘I’ll send you it.’

At this moment Major Crampas came up to Effi and begged to pay his compliments. Effi blushed to the roots of her hair, but before she could answer, Crampas said, ‘May I ask you, my lady, to introduce me to the ladies?’

Effi told them Crampas’s name and he, already completely
au fait
, made light conversation, recalling all the Paddens and Titzewitzes he had ever heard of. At the same time he apologized for not yet having visited those residing on the other side of the river and introducing his wife; but it was strange, he said, what a power water had to separate. It was the same with
la Manche
, the Straits of Dover…

‘What?’ said old Frau von Titzewitz.

Crampas felt it inappropriate to go into explanations which would not have achieved anything, and went on, ‘For twenty Germans who go to France, there still isn’t one who goes to England. It’s the water; I repeat, water has the power to divide.’

Frau von Padden, scenting a suggestive allusion with fine instinct, wanted to intercede on behalf of water, but Crampas, with growing eloquence, continued to talk and drew the ladies’ attention to the beautiful Fräulein von Stojentin, ‘who was without doubt the queen of the ball’, his glance actually resting momentarily on Effi in admiration as he spoke. Then he quickly took his leave, bowing to all three in turn.

‘A handsome man,’ said Frau von Padden. ‘Does he visit you?’

‘Occasionally.’

‘A really handsome man,’ Frau von Padden repeated. ‘A trifle too sure of himself. And pride goes before a fall… But just look, he’s going to dance with Grete Stojentin. He’s too old really, at least in his mid-forties.’

‘He’s nearly forty-four.’

‘Oho, you seem to know him rather well.’

It suited Effi very well that the new year, right at the beginning, brought all sorts of excitements. Since New Year’s Eve a keen north-easterly had been blowing, which in the following days increased almost to gale force, and on the third of January in the afternoon it was reported that a ship had missed the entrance to the harbour and foundered a hundred yards from the mole; it was said to be English, out of Sunderland, and apparently had seven men on board; the pilots, try as they might, could not round the mole, and launching a boat from the beach was completely out of the question, the breakers were far too rough. That sounded bad enough. But Johanna, who had brought the news, also had comfort to hand: Consul Eschrich with the rescue gear and the rocket battery was on his way already and success was assured; the distance was not quite as great as back in ’75, and it had worked then, when they even managed to save the poodle, and it had been really touching to see how overjoyed the dog was, how over and over again it licked the captain’s wife with its red tongue, and licked the dear little child that wasn’t much older than Wee Annie.

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