The handful of Uhlan officers could talk big, but when it came to putting their prowess to the test by a genuine prolonged carousal, they could not be depended on, and dropped out of the ranks before the struggle had really half begun. The truth was that the colonel in command had strict orders to guard against any excesses, lest the demoralising civilian influence should bring the mixed garrison into disrepute.
The citizens were, on the whole, a famous crew, and as often in debt and in drink as befitted old corps students. One, it was true, held himself aloof, because he was a Jew and feared baiting. But his place was filled by a newspaper reporter, likewise a Jew, who adopted opposite tactics, and, with the plasticity of his race, had become the most convivial of the party and the wildest of a wild lot.
The circle was sometimes joined by a couple of landed proprietors, unable to put in a regular appearance owing to their wives and the distance of their homes, and whose presence, when they did come to drink away dull hours, added to the gaiety of the topers.
As beer and red wine were considered little stronger than innocent ditch-water, a particularly piquant kind of punch was the beverage chosen, by means of which the object desired was most quickly accomplished. This was an appalling mixture of cognac and port-wine, with sugar added, and it was carried to the table piping hot. The man had never been met with yet who could hold out against the peculiar effects of this devilish concoction. And every time that the punch was brewing on the kitchen fire, the waiters and ostlers received orders to hold themselves in readiness to act the part of good Samaritan to the guests.
Nevertheless, the milieu of the Prussian Crown was a little too steady and staid for some tastes. Certain respectable worthies came there to read the newspapers, have a game of cribbage or chess, and their request for quiet had perforce to be regarded.
Another drawback was the lack of female society. At other resorts in Münsterberg, where the more plebeian revellers sought their distractions with indifferent beer and good grog, were to be found ladies with whom one could chat behind the bar.
At Engelmann's, for instance, was the barmaid known as the fair Ida; and Gretchen, nicknamed the "Toad," ogled through the window of Gambrinus's which was generally empty; while, if one wanted variety, there was the Restaurant Königgrätz, where the young ladies came and went in rapid succession. Johann, the Halewitz coachman, had waited many an hour, of late, freezing on his box before the curtained windows of these hostels, and he and Christian had entered into a conspiracy together to screen their master and hide his ruin from the world; they invented a hundred excuses for his late home-coming, and lied to every one who questioned them on the subject. Yet, in spite of that, all the servants and tenants knew their master had become a drunkard, and spent his nights in debauchery. And there was no surprise after the scene of Christmas Eve, which had impressed itself so deeply on their memory. In the castle itself the evil was felt without the cause of it being clearly understood. Its inmates were in terror of Leo's sudden outbursts of temper, his growling and grumbling. When his behaviour was tolerable, the poor women would venture hopefully on drawing a smile or a kind word from him, but were generally roughly repulsed, and would retire from the attempt with tears of shame and indignation in their eyes.
Dear, sweet-tempered grandmamma suffered no less than Hertha, and Elly and her fat pug between them got well bullied.
But there was no one who suffered as much as himself. Despite his efforts to be a fiend, he remained nothing but a poor wretch, bleeding from the scourgings of self-contempt; a martyr to feverish longing and the craving of the senses, seeking mental and physical exhaustion by plunging into one soul-deadening dissipation after the other.
The idea of making an end of himself grew stronger day by day. He played with his despairing resolves as a child does with its toys. Sometimes he felt as if he must commit murder, and a favourite occupation of his distorted mind was to picture himself laying hands on innocent people who had done, and never would do, him any harm, but whom in his suspicious irritability he chose to regard as enemies and slanderers. Yes, murder some one, and afterwards go to gaol and the gallows; that would be peace and salvation at last. He had seen no more of Felicitas since that memorable morning. She had twice written to him, but he had evaded answering her. The last remnants of his strength of will were used to keep up this cowardly attitude. He had heard from Ulrich too, begging him to forgive him for not having looked him up the last time he was at home. This made him laugh his harshest laugh. If they had met, what a delightful meeting it would have been!