Effi Briest (26 page)

Effi, much as she liked the apartment, was in agreement, the more so because a swift solution did not suit her at all, quite the contrary, ‘gain time, gain all,’ and so a postponement of the whole matter was in fact the best thing that could happen from her point of view. ‘We’ll bear this apartment in mind though Mamma, it’s so nicely situated and it’s really exactly what I wanted.’ Then the two ladies drove back into town, ate at a restaurant that had been recommended to them and went to the opera in the evening, which the doctor had permitted on condition that Frau von Briest went to listen rather than to watch.

The next few days followed a similar pattern; mother and daughter were genuinely delighted at having each other again and being able to chat to their heart’s content after such a long time. Effi had a talent not just for talking and listening, but when really at ease was a most adept scandalmonger, and she more than once recaptured her old high spirits, and her mother wrote home how happy she was to find the ‘child’ so cheerful and ready to laugh once more; it was like the lovely time they had all had almost two years before all over again, when they were buying her trousseau. Cousin Briest too was quite his old self, she reported. And this was indeed the case, except that they saw less of him than last time, and when asked why, he would maintain, apparently quite seriously, ‘Because you’re too dangerous for me, cousin.’ Every time this happened mother and daughter would subside into laughter, and Effi would say, ‘Dagobert, you’re still very young of course, but
not young enough to court me in that style any more.’

In this way almost two weeks had passed. Innstetten wrote more and more urgently and became quite sharp, even towards his mother-in-law, so Effi realized that further postponement was scarcely possible and they really had to find a place to rent. But what then? There were still three weeks until they moved to Berlin and Innstetten was insisting on her prompt return. There was only one thing for it: some more play-acting, she would have to be ill.

She didn’t care for this for a variety of reasons, but it had to be, and once that was clear to her, it was also clear how she was going to play this role, down to the last detail.

‘Mamma, Innstetten, as you see, is getting touchy about my absence. I think we have to capitulate and rent somewhere today. And tomorrow I’ll travel back. Oh it’s so hard for me to leave you.’

Frau von Briest was in agreement. ‘And which apartment is it to be?’

‘The first one of course, the one in Keithstrasse which I liked so much from the start, and so did you. It probably won’t quite have dried out yet, but it’s summer now, which is some consolation. And if the dampness gets too bad and I get a touch of rheumatism, there’s always Hohen-Cremmen after all.’

‘Child, don’t tempt Providence; rheumatism can come out of the blue, and you never know what brought it on.’

These words came at just the right moment for Effi. She took the tenancy that very morning and wrote a card to Innstetten saying she would be leaving next day. And sure enough the cases were packed straight away and all preparations made. But when the next morning came, Effi sent from her bed for her mother and said, ‘Mamma, I can’t travel. I have such aches and pains and it’s hurting all down my back, I’m almost inclined to think it’s rheumatism. I didn’t know it could be so painful.’

‘There you are, what did I tell you? Speak of the devil. Yesterday you were thoughtless enough to say it, now you’ve got it. When I see Schweigger, I’ll ask him what you ought to do.’

‘No, not Schweigger. He’s an eye specialist. That won’t do, you never know, he might take it amiss, being consulted about something else. I think it would be best just to wait and see. It might go away. I shall take nothing but tea and soda-water for a whole day, and if that makes me perspire, perhaps I’ll get over it.’

Frau von Briest expressed her agreement but insisted that she should have proper nourishment. Not eating anything, which used to be the fashion, was quite wrong and just weakened one; in this particular she was wholly on the side of the new school: good solid meals.

Effi derived no small consolation from these views and sent a telegram to Innstetten in which she spoke of a tiresome turn of events which annoyingly for the moment prevented her return, and then she said to Roswitha, ‘Roswitha, you must get some books for me; it won’t be difficult, I want old ones, really old ones.’

‘Of course my lady. The lendin’ library is just next door. What am I to bring?’

‘I’ll write it down, all sorts of things to choose from, sometimes they don’t have the one thing you happen to want.’ Roswitha fetched a pencil and paper and Effi wrote down: Walter Scott,
Ivanhoe
or
Quentin Durward
; Cooper,
The Spy
; Dickens,
David Copperfield
; Willibald Alexis,
Baron Bredow’s Breeches
.

Roswitha read through the list and in the next room cut off the last line; she was too ashamed for herself and for her mistress to hand over the note in its original form.

The day passed without further incident. Next morning there was no improvement, nor on the third day.

‘Effi, we can’t go on like this. When something like this gets a hold, you never get rid of it; what doctors quite rightly warn against most is letting things drag on like this.’

Effi sighed. ‘Yes Mamma, but who are we to have? Not a young doctor; that would embarrass me, I don’t know why.’

‘A young doctor is always a little
gênant
, and if he isn’t, so much the worse. But you can put your mind at rest; I would suggest a very old one who treated me when I was still at Hecker’s Boarding School, which was a good twenty years ago. And he was almost fifty then and had nice grey hair, all curly. He was a ladies’ man, but within the bounds of propriety. Doctors who lose sight of those go under, they’re bound to; our women, at least society women, still know what’s right and proper.’

‘Do you think so? I’m always glad to hear good things like that. At times you do hear otherwise. And it must often be hard. And what is the old Geheimrat called? For I take it he is a Geheimrat.’

‘Geheimrat Rummschüttel.’

Effi laughed outright. ‘Rummschüttel! A shaky doctor for a patient who can’t move.’

‘Effi, you do say some strange things. You can’t be in any great pain.’

‘No, not just at the moment; it keeps coming and going.’

The mother was inclined to demur, saying that twenty years and more
was a long time; Rummschüttel however stood by his assertion, at the same time assuring them that he didn’t have every face engraved on his memory, but once he had registered an impression, that impression was there for good. ‘And now my dear Frau von Innstetten, what’s the trouble, how can we help?’

‘Oh Herr Geheimrat, I can’t really tell you what it is. It keeps coming and going. Just at this moment it’s as if it had flown away. At first I thought it was rheumatism, but now I’m almost inclined to think it’s neuralgia, pains all down my back, and then I can’t sit up. My Papa suffers from neuralgia, so I’ve seen what it’s like. Perhaps I’ve inherited it from him.’

‘Very probably,’ said Rummschüttel, who had taken his patient’s pulse and had been observing her closely but unobtrusively. ‘Very probably, my dear lady.’ But what he said to himself was, ‘Putting it on, a virtuoso performance, a daughter of Eve
comme il faut
.’ However, he gave not the slightest indication of this, but said with all the seriousness anyone could have desired, ‘Rest and keep warm, that’s the best thing I can prescribe. Some medicine, but nothing unpleasant, will do the rest.’

And he stood up to write out the prescription.
Aqua amygdalarum amararum
half an ounce,
Syrupus florum aurantii
two ounces. ‘I would ask your ladyship to take half a teaspoonful of this every two hours. It will calm your nerves. And there is one other thing I would insist upon: no mental strain, no visits, no reading.’ So saying, he pointed to the book lying beside her.

‘It’s Scott.’

‘Oh well, there’s no objection to that. Travel books are best though. I’ll call again tomorrow.’

Effi had been perfectly composed and had played her part well. Still, when she was alone again – her mother was seeing the Geheimrat out – the blood rushed to her head; it had been quite obvious to her that he had seen through her play-acting and responded in kind. He was evidently a man well-versed in the ways of the world, who saw everything quite clearly but chose not to notice it all, perhaps because he knew that some things might deserve to be respected. For was there not play-acting that merited respect, and was not her own now just such a case?

Soon afterwards Frau von Briest returned, and mother and daughter jointly indulged in singing the praises of the fine old gentleman who, in spite of his seventy years, they agreed still had something youthful about him. ‘Send Roswitha to the chemist’s right away… You’re only to take it every three hours though, he made a point of telling me that outside. That’s how he always used to be, he seldom prescribed anything, and only small amounts; but always something effective, and it helped straight away.’

Rummschüttel came the next day, then every three days because he saw
the embarrassment his visits caused the young woman. This won his sympathy, and after the third visit he was certain of his verdict. ‘There’s something going on here that is forcing this young woman to behave like this.’ The days were long gone when he would have taken offence at such behaviour.

When Rummschüttel made his fourth visit, he found Effi up, sitting in a rocking chair with a book in her hand and Annie at her side.

‘Ah my dear lady! Delighted. I don’t attribute it to the medicine; the fine weather, these fresh bright March days, illness just goes. I congratulate you. And your Mamma?’

‘She has gone out Herr Geheimrat, to Keithstrasse, we’ve taken an apartment there. I’m expecting my husband in the next few days, and I’m greatly looking forward to the opportunity, once we’ve settled in, of introducing him to you. For I would like to hope that you will agree to look after me in the future too.’

He bowed.

‘Although I’m a little worried about the new apartment,’ she went on, ‘it’s a new building. Do you think, Herr Geheimrat, that the damp walls…’

‘Not in the slightest, my dear lady. Have the heating kept up for three or four days with all the doors and windows open, then you can risk it, on my responsibility. That neuralgia of yours wasn’t too serious. But I’m happy that you were so cautious, for it has given me an occasion to renew an old acquaintance and make a new one.’

He repeated his bow, looked into Annie’s eyes with a kind smile and took his leave, asking for his respects to be conveyed to Frau von Briest.

He was hardly gone when Effi sat down at her writing-table and wrote:

Effi posted the letter herself, as if that in itself might hasten the reply, and next morning the telegram she had requested came from Innstetten, ‘Fully agree.’ Her heart leapt, she rushed downstairs to the nearest cab-rank. ‘Number 1C Keithstrasse.’ And the cab flew down Unter den Linden and then Tiergartenstrasse before stopping outside the door of her new apartment.

Upstairs the things that had arrived the day before lay in a jumble, but this did not disturb her, and when she stepped out on to the broad, walled balcony, the Tiergarten lay before her on the far side of the canal bridge, its trees all showing a shimmer of green already. And above, a clear blue sky and a laughing sun.

She trembled with excitement and breathed deeply. Then she stepped back inside from the balcony, lifted her gaze and clasped her hands.

‘Now, God willing, a new life! Things are going to be different.’