Life in a German Crack Regiment

by Graf von Wolf Ernst Hugo Emil Baudissin

"Did you take the money?"

"Before his very eyes I threw it into the blazing fire, and rejoiced in his look of horror. After that he returned to the object of his visit. He begged me not to tell you what had happened. He and you were in the same regiment, I ought not disturb the friendship which existed between you. Probably you would not think he had acted quite rightly (so he said), it might lead to a quarrel. Such a thing is very disagreeable, especially in a proud and distinguished regiment, which, more than all others, must preserve outward appearances. And, besides, you could not fight a duel on my behalf. To cut the story short, I don't remember what else he said; I listened to him without answering a word, and the longer I was silent the more humble and pitiable he became, till at last he stood before me like a schoolboy who has been severely rebuked. He fell on his knees, begged my pardon, and entreated me to keep silence; it was then that I promised never to mention his name to you. To-day I have given his name, but I was compelled. It is your fault, not mine, for I spoke on your account. You may be sure I don't want to run the risk of losing you because of him." Suddenly she was overcome with anguish that now she would be repulsive and hateful in his sight; she sprang towards him and fell on her knees. "George, tell me you still love me, that you will not send me away—it was not my fault."

He bent over her and kissed her on the forehead.

"Get up, dear, why should I be angry with you, indeed? How could I hold you responsible for what a villain did, and it's not your fault that his name is Willberg? But he shall answer for what he has done."

"He must not do that," cried Olga; "you have given me your word to tell him nothing about it, and you will keep it, for I do not believe that any occasion will arise to make me absolve you from your promise."

He sank into a chair and looked gloomily in front of him. Had he the slightest ground for proceeding against Willberg? He might of course say to him: "I know a young girl, and am aware that you have treated her like a blackguard." Willberg could not possibly allow this insult to pass unnoticed; there would be, at the least, a quarrel, probably a duel, and, as a result, an investigation by a Court of Honour. A good deal of dirt would be thrown about, but what would be the use of that? Willberg would most likely be dismissed from the army, and what then? What advantage would that be to anybody? There would be one less dishonourable man in the army certainly, but who would have to bear the consequences of that? Only George, for he would never be pardoned for having acted so harshly towards the darling of the regiment. Willberg after his dismissal would still find faithful friends enough who would help him. He would not suffer too excessively in no longer wearing officer's uniform. No, George could take no steps against him, he had no case against him; he was obliged to admit to himself that personally Willberg had done him no harm, no injury, and if he stepped in on behalf of Olga's honour, the town and the world would shake their heads, and the colonel would make it quite clear to him that men do not fight a duel on account of a young woman like Olga. She was certainly an excellent, worthy young woman, she was under a talented actress, but still—in imagination George heard their remarks, and he doubled up his fists in a fury of rage. Then another thought occurred to him. What would his parents, what would Hildegarde say, when they learnt that he had fought a duel for the sake of his mistress? They must not know anything whatever about the matter.

For nearly five minutes George sat deeply immersed in thought, and Olga watched his expression with intense anxiety: her reputation, her career, were at stake. What had taken place between her and Willberg was known only to themselves and George; she had told no one about it; she had never mentioned the name of her betrayer. If George thought the affair ought not to rest with him, and that he ought to inform the Court of Honour concerning it, then she would be forced to absolve him from his promise, and the whole town would learn in a few days what up till to-day was a secret. She would not be able to remain in Berlin; she felt that she could never again face an audience who knew how she had been treated.

"Well, George," she said at last, "have you yet made up your mind what you are going to do?"

"Yes," he answered firmly, "the blackguard deserves to be struck in the face, but I shall not do that; I shall not say a word of what you have told me to anyone, not even to him, however difficult it may be for me. But I am obliged to act thus on your account, for I care too much about you to expose you to public discussion, public gossip, and probably to universal condemnation, for the world must have suddenly changed if in spite of everything it does not hold you to blame. But as I have just said, I will not do so, and so there's an end of the matter."

She clung to him and put her arm round his neck.