Life in a German Crack Regiment

by Graf von Wolf Ernst Hugo Emil Baudissin

George was perfectly well aware of the feeling that existed against him, and even if he had wanted to deceive himself in this matter, one thing would have opened his eyes to this fact. This was the condescending manner in which young Willberg regularly every week, purely as a matter of form, made his excuses for not having been able to return the £50 which he had been obliging enough to lend him.

"I really do not want the money," George said every time; "on the contrary, I live so economically that I save money. I would gladly lend you a larger amount, and you need not hurry about paying it back."

George noticed how very gladly young Willberg accepted the generously-offered help, for it was an open secret that he would not be able to go on much longer. Nobody knew exactly how he stood with regard to money matters. He did not gamble more than the others, but he had other expenses. In the eyes of young girls in Society, he enjoyed much distinction in consequence of his amours. He knew how interesting he was to them, because he had the reputation of not being able to be faithful to anyone. And he knew equally well that in spite of this reputation, or rather just because of it, he would have no difficulty in winning a rich wife one day. The bride would be envied for having a fiancé with such an interesting past; they would consider her lucky to have caught him. He intended to marry later, but his wife must have money, a great deal of money, for he had no intention of changing his mode of life when he was a married man. Willberg had no idea of the value of money, and whenever he was able to borrow a few pounds from a relative he could not rest until he had spent it. He was continually in debt, and just now things were very bad with him. He was always complaining of his wretched position, and drank more wine than usual to drown his cares. He owed money all round the regiment, and George foresaw that it would not be long before young Willberg would again borrow from him without being able to discharge his former debt. And the moment came sooner than even George had imagined.

George had gone home one day from the mess-room earlier than usual. He had received a letter from his friend Olga, a young actress at the Residenz Theatre, saying that she would come to supper with him. At first he had thought of putting her off, as he had some important work to do, but finally he had telegraphed to her: "Come, I am expecting you." He had not the heart to spoil her evening. She was so fond of him, and so happy in his comfortable and beautifully-furnished rooms. There was nothing more delightful to her than to admire his beautiful things and rummage in his library.

Soon they were sitting in the little dining-room, opposite each other at the charmingly decorated table, and George observed laughingly how she enjoyed the oysters and Pommery.

"It is all very well for you to laugh. You have just come from dinner, but I have eaten nothing since three o'clock."

"My dear child, go on eating. I am only too delighted if it is to your taste, and the more you eat the better pleased I am. And when you have finished these oysters here, there is another dozen outside on ice, and after that there is your favourite dish—stuffed artichokes."

She clapped her hands with pleasure like a child; then she looked at him gratefully with her wide-open, dark brown eyes, and softly stroked his hand. "How good and kind you are to me."

"Really, Olga!" He was almost embarrassed by the feeling in her voice, and attempted to joke: "Don't make fun of me, Olga. If the whole extent of my kindness to you consists in my telling my landlady to cook your favourite dishes, it is really not very much." And after a slight pause, he added: "I am very fond of you, little Olga."

She looked at him delighted. "Do you really mean it?" And when he bowed and drank her health, she said: "Do you know, I believe you. Indeed when I am with you I know that you are fond of me."