And the situation in which he had found him rose up before his father's mental vision with terrible distinctness.
He had let his wife wait downstairs for him--true, she had made a point of going up with him, but he had insisted on her staying down in the court-yard, that narrow, dark yard which smelt of fustiness and dust--he had gone up alone. Three flights of stairs. They had seemed terribly steep to him, his knees had never felt so tired before when mounting any stairs. There was the name "Knappe." He had touched the bell--ugh, what a start he had given when he heard the shrill peal. What did he really want there? As the result of an anonymous letter he, Paul Schlieben, was forcing his way in on strange people, into a strange house? The blood surged to his head--and at that moment the person opened the door in a light blue dressing-gown, no longer young, but buxom, and with good-natured eyes. And by the gleam of a miserable kitchen lamp, which lighted up the pitch-dark passage even at noon, he had seen a smart top-coat and a fine felt hat hanging in the entrance, and had recognised Wolfgang's things. So he was really there? There? So the anonymous letter had not lied after all.
He did not know exactly what he had done after that; he only knew he had got rid of some money. And then he had led the young man down the stairs by the arm--that is to say, dragged him more than led him. Käte had met them halfway. She had found the time too long downstairs, open-mouthed children had gathered round her, and women had watched her from the windows. She was almost in despair: why did Paul remain upstairs such a terribly long time? She had had no idea, of course, that he had first to wake his son out of a leaden sleep in an untidy bed. And she must never, never know.
Now they had got him home again, but was it a pleasure? To that Paul Schlieben had to give a curt "no" as answer, even if he had felt ever so disposed to forgive, ever so placable. No joy came to them from that quarter now. Perhaps they might have some later, much later. For the time being it would be best for the young man to serve his time as a soldier.
Wolfgang was to present himself on the first of April. Schlieben pinned his last hope to that.
Wolfgang had always wished to serve with the Rathenow Hussars, but after their last experiences his father deemed it more advisable to let him join the more sedate infantry.
Formerly Wolfgang would have opposed this plan very strenuously--in any case it must be cavalry--now it did not enter his head to do so. If he had to serve as a soldier, it was quite immaterial to him where; he was dead tired. His only wish was to sleep his fill for once. Kullrich was dead--his sorrowing father had sent him the announcement from Görbersdorf towards Christmas--and he? He had wasted too many nights in dissipation.
It was a blow to Paul Schlieben that Wolfgang was not accepted as a soldier. "Disqualified"--a hard word--and why disqualified?
"Serious organic defect of the heart"--his parents read it with eyes that thought they had made a mistake and that still read correctly.
Wolfgang was very exhausted when he came home after the examination, but he did not seem to mind much that he was disqualified. He did not show it--but was he not, all the same?