Effi Briest (25 page)

‘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 thank 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.

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:

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?’

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.

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.’

‘Bible jokes? How do you mean?… The Bible and jokes don’t go together.’

‘As I said, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. But permissible or not, they’re all the rage. A passing fad, like plovers’ eggs.’

‘Well, if it’s not too drastic, tell us one, just to see. Can you?’

‘Of course I can. And I may even add, you’ve struck lucky. The one going the rounds at the moment is particularly good, because it’s a combination of Scripture and pun. The question in this case – all these jokes take the form of questions by the way – is of the utmost simplicity: “What was our Lord’s favourite plaything called?” Now guess.’

‘Little lambkin, perhaps.’

‘A brave try. You’re an ace, Effi. I’d never have thought of that. But you’re wide of the mark.’

‘Well, what was it then?’

‘Our Lord’s favourite plaything was called “Gladly”, because in the hymn it says “Gladly the cross I’d bear” or “cross-eyed bear”, “eyed”, e-y-e-d.’

Effi, shaking her head, repeated the phrase and the additional information, but in spite of all her efforts was unable to see the point; she was quite decidedly one of the happy few who are impervious to this kind of wordplay, and so Cousin Briest found himself in the unenviable position of having to point out again and again how the words sounded the same but actually had different meanings.

‘Oh I see. You must excuse me for taking so long. But it really is too silly.’

‘Yes, it is silly,’ said Dagobert sheepishly.

‘Silly and in poor taste, enough to put you off Berlin. You leave Kessin to be among proper people again, and the first thing you hear is a Bible joke. Mamma is silent too, which is comment enough. However, I’m going to allow you to make an orderly retreat –’

‘Please do, Cousin Effi.’

‘– an orderly retreat, and I take it in all seriousness as a good sign that the
first thing my cousin Dagobert said to me here was, “Gladly the cross I’d bear.” Strange as it may seem, Cousin, though it’s a bad joke, I’m grateful to you for telling it.’

Dagobert, having just got off the hook, proceeded to make fun of Effi’s earnestness, but desisted when he saw that he was annoying her.

Soon after ten he left, promising to come back next day to ask for his orders.

And as soon as he had gone, Effi too withdrew to her rooms.