Somebody laughed among the poorer members of the audience. Sprezius snapped his beak and threatened to fine the person who laughed. Jadassohn sighed. Now it was frankly no longer possible to interrupt the witness.

In Netzig, unfortunately, the imperial call to battle had awakened only a feeble response! Here people were closing their eyes and ears to the danger and clinging to the common-place views of democracy and humanity which made the way easy for the unpatriotic enemies of the divine order of the world. Here they did not yet understand virile national sentiment and far-seeing imperialism. "The task of modern think ers is to win even Netzig to the new spirit, as defined by our glorious young Emperor, who has appointed every true patriot whether noble or commoner, to be the instrument of his exalted purpose." And Diederich concluded: "Therefore, gentlemen, I was justified in challenging the defendant with the greatest decision, when he began to criticise. I have acted without personal malice, for the sake of the cause. To be impartial is to be German! I for my part"—he glared across at Lauer—"admit my actions, for they spring from an exemplary life, which rests upon honour in the home and knows neither untruth nor immorality!"

There was a great sensation in court. Diederich was swept off his feet by the noble sentiments which he expressed, and, intoxicated by his success he continued to glare at the accused. Suddenly he shrank back, for the defendant was helping himself up by the rail of his seat, trembling and shaking. His eyes were wild and blood-shot and his jaws moved convulsively, as if he had had a stroke. "Oh!" cried the women's voices, shivering with expectation. Meanwhile the presiding judge announced that the Public Prosecutor would begin his address at four o'clock, and disappeared together with his colleagues. Half-dazed Diederich found himself suddenly surrounded by Kühnchen, Zillich and Rothgroschen, who were congratulating him. Strangers shook him by the hand and assured him that a verdict of guilty was absolutely certain, that Lauer might as well prepare to leave. Major Kunze reminded the victorious Diederich that there had never been a difference of opinion between them. In the corridor old Buck passed by quite close to Diederich, who was just then surrounded by a crowd of women. He was putting on his black gloves and he looked the young man full in the face as he did so, without replying to Diederich's involuntary salute, with a sad, searching glance, so sad that Diederich, in the midst of his triumph, looked after him sadly.

All of a sudden he became aware that the five Buck girls did not scruple to pay him compliments. They fluttered with rustling skirts and inquired why he had not also brought his sisters to this thrilling trial. He looked these five over-dressed dolls up and down in turn, and explained sternly and shortly that there were things which were to be taken more seriously than a theatrical performance. They walked off in blank amazement. The corridor began to empty; the last to appear was Guste Daimchen. She made a movement in Diederich's direction, but Wolfgang Buck caught up on her, smiling as if nothing had happened, and with him were Herr and Frau Lauer. Guste quickly threw a glance at Diederich which stirred his tender emotions. He stepped back behind a pillar and with beating heart allowed the vanquished to pass.

As he turned to go Governor von Wulckow came out of one of the offices. Hat in hand, Diederich took up his position and at the right moment clicked his heels together and stood at attention. And Wulckow actually stopped! "Well, well!" he rumbled from the depths of his beard, clapping Diederich on the shoulder. "You have set the pace. Most excellent sentiments. You'll hear from me again." He went off in his muddy boots, his paunch quivering in his riding-breeches, which were soaked with perspiration and left behind him, as penetrating as ever, that overpowering odour of masculinity which permeated everything that happened in the court.

Downstairs at the entrance door the Mayor still lingered, with his wife and mother-in-law who harassed him from both sides, and whose demands he tried to reconcile, a hopeless expression on his pale face.

At home they had already heard everything. The three women had waited in the vestibule for the end of the hearing, and had got Meta Harnisch to tell them what happened. Weeping silently Frau Hessling embraced her son. The sisters looked on feeling rather small, for only yesterday they had had nothing but contempt for Diederich's part in the affair, which had now turned out so brilliantly. But in the happy oblivion of victory Diederich ordered wine for dinner, and assured them that this day would assure their social position in Netzig for all time. "The five Buck girls will be careful not to cut you in the street. They may consider themselves lucky if you answer their salutes." Lauer's condemnation, he explained, was now only a matter of form. It had already been decided and, at the same time, Diederich's irresistible advance! "Naturally"—he nodded into his glass— "even while faithfully discharging my duty I might have made a wrong move, and then, my dears, I don't mind telling you, it would have been all up with me and with Magda's marriage, too!" As Magda turned pale he touched her arm. "Now we have come through very nicely," he said, raising his glass in manly joy. "How things have turned out under God's guidance!" He ordered the two girls to make themselves pretty and come along with him. Frau Hessling begged them to be careful, she was very much afraid of the excitement. On this occasion Diederich could afford to wait and his sisters could take as long to dress as they liked. By the time they arrived every one was in court, but they were not the same people. All the Buck family was missing, and also Guste Daimchen, Heuteufel, Cohn, the whole masonic lodge and the Independent Voters' Association. They admitted their defeat! The whole town knew it and crowded there to witness their annihilation. The poorer people were thrust forward into the front seats. Those of the erstwhile clique who were still visible, Kühnchen and Kunze, took care that every one should read their unimpeachable sentiments in their faces. There were a few suspicious looking figures scattered about: young men with a tired, soulful air, together with several loud young women, with unnaturally radiant complexions, and they all exchanged greetings with Wolfgang Buck. The State Theatre! Buck had actually dared to invite them to hear his oration.

Every time any one entered Lauer turned his head anxiously. He was expecting his wife! "If he imagines that she will come again!" thought Diederich. But there she came, even paler than in the morning, greeted her husband with an imploring look, and sat down quietly at the end of a seat, her eyes staring fixedly in front of her at the Bench, proud and silent, as if awaiting Destiny. … The judges had entered the courtroom, the presiding justice opened the session and called upon counsel for the prosecution to speak.

Jadassohn launched forth at once with extreme vehemence; after a few sentences his effects were exhausted and he lost his grip on the audience. The theatrical people smiled at one another contemptuously. Jadassohn noticed this and began to swing his arms until his gown whirled about him; his voice rose to a shriek and his ears glowed. The painted ladies fell on the rails of their seat in a paroxysm of uncontrollable giggling. "Is Sprezius blind?" asked the Mayor's mother-in-law. But the Bench was fast asleep. Diederich inwardly rejoiced. This was his revenge on Jadassohn, who could devise nothing except what he had already employed in setting the pace! It was all over, as Wulckow knew; and Sprezius knew it, therefore he slept with his eyes open. Jadassohn knew it best of all, and the noisier he became the more ineffective he was. When he finally called for a penalty of two years' imprisonment, all the people he had bored disagreed with him, even the judges, as it seemed. Old Kühleman gave a snore and awoke with a start. Sprezius blinked his eyes several times to arouse himself, and then called upon counsel for the defence.

Wolfgang Buck stood up slowly. His curious friends in the audience gave a murmur of applause and Buck calmly waited until they had finished, in spite of the threatening beak of Sprezius. Then he declared lightly, as if it would be all over in two minutes, that the evidence had shown the defendant in a thoroughly favourable light. Counsel for the prosecution was wrong in his view that the testimony of witnesses had any value, who had been intimated by ruthless attacks upon their own private lives. Or rather, it had the value of proving incontrovertibly the innocence of the defendant, since so many well-known friends of truth could only be blackmailed into—Of course he was not allowed to continue. When the judge had calmed down Buck imperturbably resumed. Even if they accepted as proven, that the defendant had really uttered the expression with which he was charged, then the idea of guilt was untenable. The witness Hessling had publicly admitted that deliberately and with malice aforethought he had provoked the defendant. He would ask rather if the witness Hessling, because of his provocative intention, were not really guilty of incitement to commit an offence, which he had carried out with the involuntary co-operation of another party, by consciously taking advantage of the latter's excited condition. Counsel recommended the witness Hessling to the further investigations of the Public Prosecutor. Every one turned towards Diederich, who began to feel uncomfortably warm. But the deprecatory air of the judge restored his courage.

Buck's voice became tender and impassioned. No. He did not wish any ill to the witness Hessling, whom he regarded as the victim of one more exalted. "Why do the charges of lèse-majesté multiply in these times? You may say: as a result of such occurrences as the shooting of the workman. I answer: No. But as a result of the speeches which accompany those occurrences." Sprezius moved his head, sharpened his beak, but drew back. Buck refused to be disturbed, and a strong, virile note crept into his voice.

"Threats and exaggerated claims on the one side bring forth their appropriate response on the other. The principle: he who is not with me is against me, draws too sharp a line between sycophants and calumniators."

Then Sprezius snapped. "Counsel for the defence cannot be permitted to criticise the words of His Majesty in this place. If he continues to do so the court will impose a fine."

"I accept the ruling," said Buck and his tone became softer and more emphatic. "I will not speak of the prince, but of the loyal subject, whom he has moulded; not of William II but of Diederich Hessling. You have seen what he is like! An average man, with a commonplace mind, the creature of circumstance and opportunity, without courage so long as things were going badly for him here, and tremendously self-important as soon as they had turned in his favour."

Diederich fumed in his seat. Why did Sprezius not protect him? It was his duty. He allowed a loyal patriot to be made little of at a public hearing—and by whom? By counsel for the defence, the professional champion of subversive tendencies! There was something rotten in the State!—He began to boil with rage as he looked at Buck. There was the enemy, his antithesis. There was only one thing to do: smash him! There was some insulting quality of humanity in Buck's fat profile! One could feel in him a kind of patronising affection for the phrases which he was weaving to describe Diederich.

"At all times," said Buck, "there have been many thousands such as he, who mistook their business and developed political opinions. What is added, and makes of him a new type, is simply the gesture, the swaggering manner, the aggressiveness of an alleged personality, the craving for effect at any price, even at the expense of others. Those who differ in opinion are to be branded enemies of their country, though they constitute two-thirds of the nation. Class interests, no doubt, but romanticised out of all recognition. Romantic prostration at the feet of a master who just confers enough of his power upon his subjects to enable them to crush lesser men. And as neither master nor slave exists, either in law or in fact, public life takes on an air of wretched mummery, opinion appears in costume parts, speeches fall as from the lips of crusaders, while all the time these people are led by merchants or paper manufacturers. The papier mdchS sword is drawn for an idea like that of majesty, which nobody can any longer experience outside fairy tales. Majesty! …" Buck repeated the word, rolling it on his tongue, and some of its listeners enjoyed the taste of it. The theatre people, who were clearly more interested in the sound than the sense of the words, listened eagerly; and murmured approvingly. For the others Buck's language was too choice, and they were disappointed because he made no use of dialect. Sprezius, however, sat bolt upright in his chair and was eager for prey. "For the last time I must warn counsel not to bring the person of the King into this discussion." There was a sensation amongst the audience. When Buck began again to speak, some one tried to applaud. Sprezius snapped his beak just in time. It was one of the loud young women.

"The presiding judge has been the first to mention the person of the King. But, now that it has been mentioned, I may be permitted, with all due respect, to observe that his person so perfectly expresses and represents the tendencies of the country at this moment as to be almost awe-inspiring. You will not interrupt me when I say that the Emperor is a great artist. Can I say more? We know nothing loftier. … And for that very reason it should be forbidden for every contemporary mediocrity to ape him. Amidst the splendour of the throne an undoubtedly unique personality may have full play; he may make speeches without arousing in us any expectation of more than mere words; he may flash and dazzle; he may provoke the hatred of imaginary rebels and the applause of the parterre, which never loses sight of its own bourgeois realities.…"

Diederich trembled, and all eyes and mouths were opened in tense excitement, as if Buck were walking on a tight rope between two towers. Would he fall? Sprezius held his beak in readiness to pounce, but not a trace of irony could be seen in the expression of the speaker, into which a suggestion of embittered enthusiasm had crept. Suddenly the corners of his mouth drooped and all the colour was extinguished about him.

"But a paper manufacturer in Netzig?" he queried. He had not tumbled, and was once more on solid ground! Everybody turned to look at Diederich and smiled. Emma and Magda also smiled. Buck secured his effect and Diederich admitted to himself sadly that their conversation yesterday in the street had been a general rehearsal for this. He cowered under the open scorn of the speaker.

"Nowadays paper-makers have ambitions; they aspire to a rôle for which they were never manufactured. Let us hoot them off the stage! They have no talent. The aesthetic level of our public life, which has been gloriously raised since the advent of William II, has nothing to gain from the co-operation of such persons as the witness Hessling. … And the moral level, gentlemen, rises and falls with the aesthetic. Lying ideals bring evil manners in their train; the political swindle is reflected in everyday life."

Buck's voice had become stern. Now, for the first time, he struck a note of pathos.

"I do not restrict myself, gentlemen, to the mechanical doctrine so dear to the so-called revolutionary party. The example of a great man can effect more changes in the world than all the social legislation. But beware, if the example be misunderstood! Then it may happen that a new type springs up over the country, who sees in severity and repression, not the sad transition to humane conditions, but the aim of life itself. Weak and pacifistic by nature, he strives to appear a man of iron because, in his conception, Bismarck was. Invoking without justification one higher than himself he becomes noisy and unsafe. Without a doubt the victories of his vanity will serve commercial ends. First his travesty of opinion brings a man to prison for Use-majeste. Afterwards he reaps his profit."

Buck extended his arms as if his gown were to enfold the whole world, and he had the intense expression of a leader of men. He continued his discourse, putting every ounce of his strength into it.

"You, gentlemen, wield sovereign power. Your sovereignty is first and most powerful. The fate of the individual is in your hands. You can give him life or moral death—a thing no prince can do. But a generation is created according as you approve or condemn. Thus your power extends to our future. Upon you rests the tremendous responsibility whether, in the future, men like the defendant shall fill the prisons, while the governing class is composed of creatures like the witness Hessling. Choose between them! Make your choice between an upstart and a valuable citizen, between comedy and truth! Between a man who will sacrifice a victim to raise himself and one who will make sacrifices to advance the welfare of others. The defendant has done what few have dared; he has divested himself of his privileges; to those beneath him he has granted equal rights, comfort and the joy of hope. Can one who respects his neighbour as himself be guilty of disrespect for the person of the Emperor?"

The audience drew a deep breath. With changed feelings they stared at the accused, who sat with forehead resting on his hand, and at his wife, who stared steadily in front of her. Several people sobbed. Even the presiding judge was subdued. He had stopped blinking and sat there with wide-open eyes, as if Buck had fascinated him. Old Kühlemann nodded seriously and Jadassohn winced in spite of himself. But Buck spoiled his effect by allowing his excitement to carry him away. "The citizens are awake!" he shouted. "Real national opinion! The silent deed of one Lauer strengthens it more than a hundred noisy monologues, even though spoken by a crowned artist!"

Sprezius immediately began to blink again, and everybody looked at him. He had remembered tie true state of affairs and resolved not to fall into the trap a second time. Jadassohn grinned, and in court there was a feeling that counsel for the defence had overplayed his part. Amidst general uneasiness the judge ordered him to end his eulogy of the accused.

When Buck sat down the actors tried to applaud, but Sprezius did not even snap at them. He merely gave them a bored glance and asked if the prosecution wished to reply. Jadassohn answered no, indifferently, and the Bench quickly withdrew. "It won't take long to reach a verdict," said Diederich shrugging his shoulders—although he was still terribly perturbed by Buck's speech. "Thank heaven!" said the Mayor's mother-in-law. "And to think that five minutes ago those people were getting the best of it." She pointed to Lauer, who was wiping his face, and to Buck whom the actors were actually congratulating. By this time the judges had returned and Sprezius was pronouncing the sentence: six months' imprisonment—which seemed to every one the most natural conclusion. In addition the accused was divested of the public offices which he held.

The presiding judge based the verdict on the fact that libellous intention was not essential to the establishment of guilt. Therefore the question of provocation did not arise. On the contrary, the fact that the accused had dared to speak in that fashion in the presence of loyal citizens must weigh against him. The defendant's plea that he had not meant the Emperor was held by the court to be untenable. "In view of the political sympathies of the listeners, and the known antimonarchical tendencies of the defendant, they could not but conclude that his utterances were directed against the Emperor. When the accused professes to have taken good care not to libel His Majesty, he merely proves his desire, not to avoid lèse-majesté , but to avoid its judicial consequences."

In the days that followed things happened which gave rise to even harsher judgments. Judith Lauer had packed her trunk immediately and had gone off to the South. To the South!—while her wedded husband sat up there in prison, with a sentry marching beneath his barred window. And … a remarkable coincidence! Judge Fritzsche suddenly took leave. A card from him, posted in Genoa, reached Dr. Heuteufel, who showed it round, probably in order to make people forget his own conduct. It was hardly necessary to pump the Lauer servants and the poor, forsaken children. People knew exactly what to think. The scandal grew to such dimensions that the "Netzig Journal" intervened with a warning to the upper ten not to encourage revolutionary tendencies by shameless profligacy. In a second article Rothgroschen set forth the unwisdom of overpraising such reforms as Lauer had introduced into his factory. What did the workers get out of profit-sharing? On an average, according to Lauer's own showing, hardly eighty marks a year. That might have been given to them in the form of a Christmas present. But then, of course, it would no longer be a demonstration against the existing social order! Then the anti-monarchical views of the manufacturer, as established by the court, would derive no advantage! And if Herr Lauer had counted on the gratitude of the workers, he could now learn better, provided, Rothgroschen added, that he was allowed to read the Social Democratic newspaper in prison. There they accused him of having endangered the existence of several hundred working-class families by his irresponsible remarks about the Emperor.

The "Netzig Journal" took account of the changed circumstances in another very significant way. The manager, Tietz, went to Hessling's factory for a portion of his paper supply. They were printing more papers, and Gausenfeld, he said, had more orders than could be filled. Diederich thought at once that old Klüsing himself was behind this move. He was interested in the newspaper, and nothing happened there without his consent. If he surrendered something it was obviously because he was afraid he would otherwise lose even more. The local papers! The government supplies! He was afraid of Wulckow, that was it. The old man must have heard, although he now rarely came into town, that Diederich had attracted the Governor's attention by his evidence. The old paper spider, back there in his web, which covered the whole province and more, felt danger and was uneasy. "He wants to feed me with the 'Netzig Journal'! But he won't get off as cheap as that, not in these hard times! If he only knew what plans I have! Wait until I have Wulckow behind me—I'll simply take over his entire business!" Diederich said these words aloud and struck the desk so that Sotbier jumped up in alarm. "Beware of undue excitement," Diederich mocked. "At your age, Sötbier. I admit that in former years you did a good deal for the firm. But that was a bad business with the cylinder machine. You took away my courage, and now I could use it for the 'Netzig Journal.' You had better take a rest. You are finished."

Amongst the results which the trial brought Diederich was a letter from Major Kunze. The latter wished to clear up a regrettable misunderstanding and informed him that there was now no obstacle to Dr. Hessling's admission, to the Veterans' Association. Deeply moved by this triumph Diederich's im pulse was to clasp the two hands of the old soldier. Fortunately, he made inquiries, and discovered that Governor von Wulckow was responsible for the letter! The Governor had honoured the club with a visit and expressed his amazement at not finding Dr. Hessling there. Then Diederich realised what a power he was, and acted accordingly. To the major's private letter he replied with an official communication to the Club, and requested that two members of the committee should call on him, Major Kunze and Professor Kuhnchen. And they came. Diederich received them in his office, between business calls which he had purposely arranged for the same hour, and he dictated to them the form of an address, whose receipt he made a condition of accepting their flattering invitation. In it he had them assure him that he had vindicated his loyal and patriotic feelings, with brilliant fearlessness and in spite of slander and calumny. That his action had made it possible to administer a serious rebuff to the unpatriotic element in Netzig. That Diederich had emerged, a pure and true-blue German, from a struggle waged at great personal loss.

V

"I haven't yet properly congratulated the happy bride," she feaid, trying to smile affectionately, but her eyes roved anxiously over the flowers and ribbons. "I suppose these are for the silly play?" she inquired. "Wolfgang heard about it. He says it is awfully silly." Magda replied: "He could hardly tell you anything else, since you are not acting in it." And Diederich declared: "That is just his way of excusing him self because, on his account, you are not invited to Wulckow's." Guste gave a contemptuous laugh. "We can do without the Wulckows, but we are going to the Club dance." Diederich asked: "Don't you think it would be better to wait until people have forgotten the trial?" He looked at her sympathetically. "Dear Fraulein Guste, we are old friends. You will allow me to warn you that your relations with the Bucks are not exactly a help to you in society just now." Guste's eyes flinched and it was evident that she herself had already arrived at the same conclusion. "Thank heaven," said Magda, "my Kienast is not like that." To which Emma retorted: "But Herr Buck is more interesting. I cried at his speech the other day, it was like being in the theatre."—"Why, of course!" cried Guste, taking courage. "Only yesterday he made me a present of this bag." She held up the gilt bag, at which Emma and Magda had been glancing for some time. Magda said snappishly: "I suppose he made a lot out of that brief. Kienast and I believe in economy." But Guste had had her revenge. "Well, I won't disturb you any longer," she concluded.

Diederich accompanied her downstairs. "I'll see you home, if you are good," he said, "but I must first look in at the factory. They will be breaking off work in a moment."—"But I can go with you," suggested Guste. In order to impress her he led the way to the big paper machine. "I am sure you have never seen anything like that before." He began self-importantly to explain to her the system of tanks, cutters and cylinders, through which the material passed the whole length of the room, first wet, then drier and drier, until at the end of the machine great rolls of finished paper came out. Guste shook her head. "What an idea! And the noise it makes! And the heat here!" Not yet satisfied with the effect he was making, Diederich found an excuse to thunder at the workers, and when Napoleon Fischer came up, he got all the blame.

Both shouted to drown the noise of the machine and Guste could not understand a word. But Diederich's secret fear saw beneath that straggly beard the peculiar grin which was a reminder of Fischer's complicity in the affair of the Double Cylinder, and was an open defiance of all authority. The more violent Diederich became the quieter was the other. That quietness was rebellious! Trembling and fuming Diederich opened the door of the packing-room and allowed Guste to enter. "That fellow is a Social Democrat!" he declared. "A chap like that is capable of setting fire to this place. But I will not dismiss him, just for that reason! Well see who is the stronger. I'll attend to the Social Democrats!" Guste gazed at him admiringly, as he continued: "I am sure you would never have guessed what dangerous posts people like myself must hold. Fearless and true is my motto. You see how I am defending our most sacred national possessions just like the Emperor. That requires more courage than making fine speeches in court."

Guste admitted it and her expression became thoughtful. "It is cooler here," she remarked, "after coming out of that inferno next door. The women in here should consider themselves lucky." "They?" queried Diederich. "They couldn't be better off! " He led Guste up to the table. One of the women was sorting the sheets, another checked them, and a third counted them up to five hundred. It was all done with incredible speed. The sheets flew one after another uninterruptedly, as if of their own accord, and without resisting the busy hands, which seemed to merge into the endless stream of paper that passed over them. Hands and arms, the woman herself, eyes and brain and heart. All that had come into being and lived so that the sheets might fly.…

Guste yawned; while Diederich explained the culpable negligence of the women who were working together. He was about to intervene because they passed a sheet from which the corner was torn, when Guste said rather spitefully: "You needn't imagine that Kathchen Zillich cares particularly for you … at least no more than for certain other people," she added. And her only reply to his bewildered question as to what she meant was to give a meaning smile. "But you must tell me," he repeated. Whereupon Guste assumed a most friendly air. "I am speaking only for your own good. I sup pose you haven't noticed anything? For instance, with Herr Jadassohn? But that's the sort of girl Kathchen Zillich is." Here Guste laughed loudly, Diederich looked so flabbergasted. She moved on and he followed her. "With Jadassohn?" he asked anxiously. Then the noise of the machines stopped, the bell rang to cease work, and the employes were already disappearing across the yard. Diederich shrugged his shoulders. "What Fräulein Zillich does leaves me cold," he said. "At most I am sorry for the old pastor, if that's the sort of person she is. Are you quite sure of it?" Guste looked away. "You can find that out for yourself!" Whereat Diederich felt flattered, and smiled.

"Leave the gas on," he shouted to the machinist, who was passing. "I'll turn it off myself." The rag room just happened to be wide open to let the workers out. "Oh!" cried Guste, "how romantic it looks in there." Back there in the shadow she had caught a glimpse of grey mounds splashed with many bright patches, and above these what seemed to be a forest of branches. "Ah," she said, as she drew nearer, "it is so dark here I thought …—But they are only heaps of rags and hot water pipes. …" She made a grimace. Diederich drove off the women who were resting on the sacks, in spite of orders. Several were knitting, although they had hardly ceased work. Others were eating. "No doubt you find this very comfortable!" he snorted. "Cadging heat at my expense!" They got up slowly, in silence, without a sign of resistance, and passing the strange lady, at whom they all turned to look curiously, they clattered out in their men's boots, heavy as a herd of cattle and enveloped in the odour in which they lived. Diederich kept a sharp watch on each of them until they were outside. "Fischer!" he suddenly shouted, "what has that fat one under her skirts?" With his ambiguous grin the machinist answered. "That's only because she is expecting a certain event." Whereupon Diederich turned away dissatisfied and explained to Guste. "I thought I had caught one of them. They steal rags, you know, «to make children's clothes." And when Guste turned up her nose: "It's too good for working-class brats."

With the tips of her glove Guste lifted one of the pieces from the floor. Immediately Diederich seized her wrist and kissed her hand greedily at the opening in her glove. She gave a frightened look round. "Oh, I see, they are all gone." She laughed confidently. "I guessed what you had still to do in the factory." Diederich looked at her defiantly. "Well, and what about yourself? Why did you come here at all to day? You must have come to the conclusion that I was not after all, such an impossible person. Of course, your Wolfgang—it is not everybody who can make such an ass of him self as he did in court the other day." To which Guste retorted indignantly: "Just you keep your mouth shut. You will never be half the man he is." But her eyes spoke differently, as Diederich noticed. He laughed excitedly. "How anxious he is to have you! Do you know how he regards you? As the pot in which his meal is cooking and which I am to keep stirred for him!" Guste could have annihilated him. "You're a liar!" she said. But Diederich felt in good form. "All that worries him is that there is not enough in the pot. At first, of course, he also believed you had come into a million. But you can't get a man of that type for fifty thousand marks." Then Guste's rage boiled over. She looked so dangerous that Diederich shrank back. "Fifty thousand! Are you crazy? Why must I listen to such talk? I, who have three hundred and fifty thousand in the bank in gilt edged securities. Fifty thousand! Whoever insults me by telling such stories around is open to an action for libel!" She had tears in her eyes, and Diederich stammered apologetically: "Don't mind such things," and Guste used her handkerchief. "Wolfgang knows exactly how I am situated. But you believed the lie yourself. You had the impertinence to believe it," she cried. Her rosy cushions of fat quivered with rage, and her little snub nose had turned quite pale. He recovered his presence of mind. "That shows you that, even without money, I like you," he said insinuatingly. She bit her lips. "Who knows," she said, looking at him from under her eyelashes, pouting and uncertain. "Even fifty thousand is a lot of money for people like you."

Diederich tried to persuade himself that he was getting on with Guste, but his progress was admittedly slow. The events connected with the trial had made their impression, but that was not enough. Also, he heard nothing more from Wulckow. After the momentous action of the Governor at the Veterans' Association Diederich confidently expected further developments, an approach, a mark of friendship, he did not know exactly what. Perhaps it would happen at the Harmony Club ball. Otherwise, why had his sisters been given parts in the play of the Governor's wife? But it was all hanging fire too long for one of Diederich's active temper. It was a time of stress and unrest. He overflowed with hopes, plans and prospects. As each day came round he wanted to seize everything at one stroke. And at the end of each day he found himself empty-handed. Diederich was seized by a desire for movement. Several times he did not turn up at his Stammtisch , but went out walking aimlessly in the country, a thing he never did. He turned his back on the centre of the town, tramped with energetic steps to the end of the empty Meisestrasse in the evenings, covered the whole length of Gäbbelchenstrasse, with its suburban inns, where drivers were yoking or unyoking their carts, and passed in front of the jail. Up there under the guard of a soldier and a barred window, sat Herr Lauer, who had never dreamt this would happen to him. "Pride goes before a fall," Diederich reflected. "As a man sows, so shall he reap." And although he was no stranger to the events which had brought the manufacturer to jail, Lauer now appeared to him as an uncanny creature, bearing the mark of Cain. Once he fancied he saw a figure in the prison yard. It was dark at the time, but perhaps …? A shudder ran through Diederich and he hurried away.

Beyond the city gate lay the country road to the hill on which stood Schweinichen Castle, where once upon a time little Diederich had shared with Frau Hessling the delightful thrill of the Castle ghost. That childishness was now far behind him. Now he preferred every time to turn sharply, on the other side of the gate, into the road leading to Gausenfeld. He had not intended to do so, and he hesitated, for he would not like any one to have caught him on this road. But he could not resist. The big paper factory drew him like a forbidden paradise. He simply had to go a few steps nearer to it, go round it, peep over the walls. … One evening Diederich was disturbed in this occupation by voices which were quite close in the dark. He had barely time to cower down in the ditch. While the people, probably employes of the factory who had stayed late, were passing his hiding place, Diederich closed his eyes, partly out of fear and partly because it seemed to him their covetous gleam might have betrayed him.

His heart was still beating when he returned to the city gate, and he looked round for a glass of beer. Right in the corner of the gateway stood the "Green Angel," one of the lowest inns, crooked with age, dirty and badly lighted. Just at that moment a woman's figure disappeared into the arched entrance. Seized with a desire for adventure Diederich hastened after her. As she passed the red light of a stable lantern she tried to hide her face, which was already veiled, with her muff. But Diederich had recognized her. "Good evening, Fräulein Zillich!"—"Good evening, Dr. Hessling." There they both stood with their mouths open. Käthchen Zillich was the first to speak, and she murmured something about children who lived in the house, and whom she was to take to her father's Sunday-school. Diederich began to talk, but she continued to chatter, faster and faster. No, as a matter of fact. the children did not live there, but their parents frequented this bar, and they were not to know anything about the Sunday-school, for they were Social Democrats, … She lost her head, and Diederich, who had only thought at first of his own guilty conscience, began to realise that Käthchen was in an even more suspicious position. He did not therefore, trouble to explain his presence in the "Green Angel." He simply proposed that they should wait for the children in the coffee room. Käthchen nervously refused to take anything, but out of a sense of his own powerfulness Diederich ordered beer for her also. "Your health!" he said, and his ironical look was a reminder that they had almost become engaged at their last meeting in the comfortable sitting-room of the manse. Beneath her veil Käthchen turned red and pale and spilled her beer. Every now and then she fluttered up helplessly from her chair and tried to go, but Diederich had shoved her into the corner behind the table and spread himself out in front of her. "The children should be here any moment," he said amiably. Instead it was Jadassohn who came. He entered suddenly and stood as if he had been struck dumb. The two others did not move either. "Oh, I see!" thought Diederich. Jadassohn seemed to come to a similar conclusion. Neither of the gentlemen spoke a word. Käthchen began again about children and Sunday-school. Her voice was beseeching and she was almost in tears. Jadassohn listened to her impatiently, and even remarked that some tales were too involved for him—and he gave Diederich an inquisitorial glance.

"After all," Diederich interposed, "it's very simple. Fräulein Zillich is looking for children here and we two are going to help her." "Whether she will get one is another matter," added Jadassohn smartly. "And also, who shall assist me," retorted Käthchen.

The gentlemen set down their glasses in front of them. Käthchen had stopped crying and, throwing back her veil, she looked from one to the other, with remarkably bright eyes. An open, frank tone had crept into her voice. "Well, now that you are both here," she said by way of explanation, as she took a cigarette from Jadassohn's case. Then she suddenly drank off the glass of cognac which was in front of Diederich. Now it was the latter's turn to lose his head. This other side of Käthchen did not seem unfamiliar to Jadassohn. The two of them continued to exchange double meaning witticisms until Diederich grew indignant with Käthchen. "This time I am seeing you in your true colours anyway!" he cried, striking the table. Käthchen at once resumed her most ladylike expression. "I do not understand what you mean, Dr. Hessling." Jadassohn continued: "I presume you do not intend any insinuation against the lady's honour!" Diederich stammered: "I only meant that I like Fräulein Zillich much better when she is like this." He rolled his eyes helplessly. "Recently, when we nearly became engaged, she did not appeal to me half so much." Then Käthchen laughed uproariously, with all her heart, in a way which Diederich had also never seen before. He began to feel warm and joined in her mirth, Jadassohn following, and all three rocked in the chairs with laughter and called for more cognac.

"Well, now I must be off," said Käthchen, "otherwise papa will get home before me. He has been paying sick calls, and then he always distributes pictures like these." She pulled two coloured pictures out of her leather bag. "There are some for you." Jadassohn received Magdalene the sinner, and Diederich the lamb with the shepherd. He was not satisfied. "I also want a sinful woman." Käthchen searched but could not find another. "You'll have to be content with a sheep," she decided, and they set off, Käthchen in the middle hanging on their arms. Making wide curves, all three staggered jerkily along the dimly lighted street, singing a hymn which Käthchen had started. When they came to a corner she said she would have to hurry and disappeared down a side street. "Good-bye, sheep!" she shouted to Diederich, who struggled in vain to follow her. Jadassohn held him tight, and suddenly began in authoritative tones to convince Diederich that this had all been a little fun and mere chance. "I wish to make it perfectly clear that there is absolutely no ground for misunderstanding."

"I had no idea of drawing improper conclusions," said Diederich. "And if I," continued Jadassohn, "had the privilege of being considered by the Zillich family in the light of a more intimate relationship, this accidental occurrence would not hold me back. I owe it to my sense of honour to tell you this."

Diederich replied: "I thoroughly appreciate the correctness of your conduct." Then the gentlemen clicked their heels together, shook hands and parted.

Käthchen and Jadassohn had exchanged a sign on parting, and Diederich was certain they would meet soon again at the "Green Angel." He loosened his overcoat and a feeling of pride filled him because he had stumbled into a dubious affair and had got out of it with all the rules of his code intact. He felt a certain respect and sympathy for Jadassohn. He too would have acted similarly. Men understood one another. But what a woman! That other side of Käthchen, the pastor's daughter whose face had unsuspectedly revealed the loose woman! This sly double-dealer, so remote from the simple integrity which lay at the root of his own character! He shuddered as if he had looked into an abyss. He buttoned up his coat again. He realised that outside the bourgeois world there were others beside that in which Herr Lauer now lived. He was fuming as he sat down to supper. His voice was so threatening that the three women maintained silence. Frau Hessling plucked up courage. "Don't you like your supper, my dear child?" Instead of answering Diederich began to browbeat his sisters. "I forbid you to have anything more to do with Käthchen Zillich!" As they stared at him, he blushed and exclaimed angrily: "She is an abandoned woman!" But they merely pursed their lips and did not seem particularly astonished by the fearful allusions into which he clumsily launched. "I suppose you are talking about Jadassohn?" Magda asked finally, with the utmost calm. Diederich started. So they were initiated and were in connivance; all the women probably. Guste Daimchen, too! She had once begun about it. He had to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Magda said: "If you by any chance had serious intentions with Käthchen, you never questioned us." At this Diederich, to keep himself in countenance, banged the table so that they all screamed. He forbade such insinuations, he shouted. He hoped that there were still a few decent girls left. Frau Hessling pleaded, trembling: "You have only to look at your own sisters, my dear son." And Diederich really looked at them and glared. For the first time he thought, not without fear, of what these female creatures, who were his sisters, might have been up to during their lives. … "Confound it all," he decided, pulling himself up stiffly, "the reins will simply have to be held more tightly over you. When I marry, my wife will know the reason why!" As the girls smiled at one another, he gave a start, for he remembered Guste Daimchen; were they thinking also of Guste when they smiled? He could trust nobody. He could see Guste in front of him, with her blonde white hair and plump, rosy cheeks. Her fleshy lips were parted and she was sticking out her tongue at him. That was what Käthchen Zillich had done a while back, when she shouted, "Good-bye, sheep!" And Guste, who was very similar to her in type, would have looked just like that, if she were half drunk and had her tongue out!

Conscious that she had the facts on her side Magda did not reply, but her breast heaved.

"In any case," said Emma, rising and throwing her napkin down, "how can you believe so easily what the men say about Käthchen? It is disgusting. Are we all to remain defenceless against their gossip?" In high dudgeon she sat down in a corner and began to read. Magda simply shrugged her shoulders, while Diederich sought anxiously and in vain for a transition which would enable him to ask if Guste Daimchen also …? With such a long engagement? "There are situations," he declared, "where it is no longer just gossip." Then Emma flung away her book.

"Well, what about it? Käthchen does what she thinks fit. We girls have just as much right as you men to live our own lives! You may consider yourselves lucky if you can get us at all afterwards!"

Diederich stood up. "I will not listen to such talk in my house," he said seriously, and he glared at Magda until she stopped laughing.

Frau Hessling brought him his cigar. "I know my little Diedel will never marry any one like that"—she stroked him consolingly. He replied with great emphasis: "Mother, I cannot imagine that a true German man ever did so."

She began to flatter him: "Oh, they are not all idealists, like my dear son. Many think more materially and with the money they take something else into the bargain, which makes people talk." Under his commanding glance she continued to chatter nervously. "For instance, Guste. God knows, he is dead now, and it can't make any difference to him, but at the time there was a great deal of talk." Now all three children looked at her inquiringly. "Yes, indeed," she said soberly, "that affair of Frau Daimchen and Herr Buck; Guste was born too soon."

After this statement Frau Hessling had to take refuge behind the screen in front of the stove, for the three of them pressed upon her at the same time. "This is startling news," cried Magda and Emma together. "How did it happen?" Diederich, in his turn, thundered against more of this women's tittle-tattle. "Well, we had to listen to your men's gossip," cried the girls, as they tried to shove him away from the screen. Wringing her hands the mother looked on at the struggle. "Children, I didn't say anything, only every one said so at the time, and Herr Buck also gave Frau Daimchen a present of her dowry."

"So that's the reason," said Magda. "That's the sort of rich uncles they have in the Daimchen family! That's where the gilt bags come from!"

Diederich defended Guste's inheritance. "It comes from Magdeburg!" "And the husband?" Emma asked. "Does he comes from Magdeburg, too?" Suddenly they were all silent and looked at each other as if they had been stunned. Then Emma went quietly back to the sofa and took up her book again. Magda began to clear the table. Diederich went up to the screen behind which Frau Hessling was hidden. "Now, mother, you do not mean to tell me that Wolfgang Buck is marrying his own sister." A tearful voice answered: "My dear child, I can't help it. I had long since forgotten the old story, and then it is not certain. No living soul knows anything about it." Raising her head from her book Emma interjected: "Old Herr Buck must know where he now gets the money for his son." And into the tablecloth which she was folding Magda said: "Strange things happen." Then Diederich raised his arms, as if to appeal to heaven. Just in time he suppressed the feeling of horror which threatened to overcome him. "Have I fallen into a den of thieves and murderers?" he asked in matter-of-fact tones, as he went stiffly towards the door. There he turned. "Of course, I cannot prevent you from hawking your remarkable wisdom about the town. So far as I am concerned, I declare that I have nothing more to do with you. I'll put a notice to that effect in the papers!" He went out.

On the evening of the following day all the looking-glasses in the house had been brought into the sitting-room. Emma, Magda and Inge Tietz were twisting and turning in front of them until they had pains in their necks. Then they sat down nervously on the edge of a chair. "Good Heavens, isn't it time to go!" But Diederich was determined not to arrive any earlier than he did at Lauer's trial. The impression one made went to the devil when one arrived too early. When they finally started Inge Tietz apologised again to Frau Hessling for taking her place in the carriage. Once more Frau Hessling repeated: "Why, it's a pleasure. An old woman like me is not equal to these affairs. Have a good time, children I" With tears in her eyes she embraced her daughters, who repelled her coldly. They knew that all their mother was afraid of was that the only subject of conversation would be the horrible, scandalous story for which she herself was responsible.

In the carriage Inge at once began again to talk about it. "What about the Bucks and the Daimchens? I wonder if they will really have the infernal cheek to show up?" Magda remarked quietly. "They must come, otherwise they would be admitting that it is true."—"Well, suppose it is," said Emma. "It is their own affair. I am not going to get excited about it."—"Nor I," added Diederich. "The first I heard of it was from you to-night, Fräulein Tietz."

At this Fräulein Tietz lost her temper. The scandal could not be regarded in this easy fashion. Did he mean to imply that she had invented the whole story? "The thing has been notorious so long that their own servants know about it."—"I see," said Diederich, "servants' gossip," while he returned the nudge which Magda gave him with her knee. Then they had to get out and go down the steps which connected the new section of Kaiser Wilhelmstrasse with the lower level of the old Riekestrasse. Diederich cursed, for it was beginning to rain and their dancing shoes were getting wet. In front of the place where the ball was being held working people had gathered and they indulged in hostile comment. Why hadn't this old rubbish heap been torn down when that quarter of the town had been levelled up. The historical Concert Hall might have been preserved—as if the town could not afford to build a modern first-class entertainment hall in a central position. In this old shanty everything was musty.

Right at the entrance the ladies always giggled because there was a statue of Friendship clothed in nothing more substantial than a wig. "Be careful," said Diederich on the stairs, "or well fall through." The two slender curves of the stairway stretched out like the skinny arms of an old man. The reddish brown of the woodwork had faded, but at the top, where they met, there smiled from the bannisters the white marble face of the bewigged mayor, who had left all this to the city, and whose name had been Buck. Diederich sullenly ignored him, as he passed.

In the long mirrored gallery all was quiet. A solitary lady was standing in the background and seemed to be peeping into the entertainment hall through a cleft in the door. Suddenly the girls were seized with horror: the play had begun! Magda ran along the gallery and burst into tears. Then the lady turned round and put her finger to her lips. It was Frau von Wulckow, the authoress. She smiled excitedly and whispered: "It's going splendidly. They like my play. You are just in time, Fraulein Hessling; go now and change your clothes." Of course! Emma and Magda did not appear until the second act. Diederich had also lost his head. While his sisters hurried off through the ante-rooms with Inge Tietz, who was to help them, he introduced himself to the Governor's wife and stood there not knowing what to do. "You can't go in now," she said, "it would disturb people." Diederich stammered his apologies and then rolled his eyes, and thus caught a glimpse of his mysteriously pale reflection among the gaudy rows of half-dulled mirrors. The tender yellow varnish of the walls played freakish tricks and the colours of flowers and faces were extinguished in the panels. … Frau von Wulckow shut a little door, through which somebody seemed to enter, a shepherdess with her beribboned staff. She shut the door very carefully, so that the performance should not be disturbed, but a little cloud of dust arose, as if it was powder from the hair of the painted shepherdess.

"This house is so romantic," whispered Frau von Wulckow. "Don't you think so, Dr. Hessling? When one looks at oneself in the mirror here, one fancies one is wearing a hoop-petticoat." At this Diederich, more and more bewildered, looked at her evening gown. Her bare shoulders were hollow and rather stooped, her hair was extremely fair and she carried a pince-nez.

"You fit these surroundings perfectly, Madame … Countess," he corrected, and he was rewarded with a smile for this bold flattery. Not every one would have reminded Frau von Wulckow so aptly that she was born Countess Züsewitz!

"As a matter of fact," she said, "it is hard to believe that in its time this home was not built for distinguished society, instead of for the good burghers of Netzig." She smiled reflectively. "But to-day, Countess, you can doubtless feel quite at home here." "I am sure you have a feeling for the beautiful," Frau von Wulckow hazarded, and as Diederich admitted it, she declared he must not miss the first act altogether, but must look through the cleft in the door. For some time she had been showing obvious signs of impatience, and with her fan she pointed in the direction of the stage. "Major Kunze will go off in a moment. He is not very good, but it can't be helped, he is on the Club committee, and was the first to point out to these people the artistic significance of my work." While Diederich had no trouble in recognising the major, who had not changed his appearance in the least, the authoress with lightning fluency gave him a synopsis of what had gone before. The young peasant girl, with whom Kunze was speaking, was his natural daughter, that is, the daughter of a Count, and for that reason the play was called "The Secret Countess." As gruff as ever, he was just explaining the circumstances to her. He was also telling her of his intention to marry her to a poor cousin and leave her one-half of his possessions. On that account, after he had gone, there was great rejoicing on the part of the girl and her foster-mother, the honest herdsman's wife.

"Who is that dreadful person?" asked Diederich, without thinking. Frau Von Wulckow looked astonished.

"That's the comic female lead from the State Theatre. We had nobody else who could play the part, but my niece rather likes acting with her." Diederich started in horror, for it was the niece he had described as a dreadful person. "Your niece is absolutely charming," he hastened to assure her and smiled delightedly at the fat, red face, which seemed to rest directly on the shoulders—and they were Wulckow's shoulders! "And she has plenty of talent, too," he added for safety. Frau von Wulckow whispered: "Just watch"—and there came Jadassohn out from the wings. What a surprise. His clothes were freshly pressed and with his fashionably cut morning coat he wore an immense stock, in which a red stone of imposing dimensions glittered. But however bright its glow, Jadassohn's ears glowed even more brightly. As his head was closely cropped and very flat, his ears stood out and illuminated his grandeur like two lamps. He swung his yellow gloved hands about as if he were pleading for many years' imprisonment. As a matter of fact, he was saying the most terrible things to the niece, who seemed thunder-struck, and to the comic old lady who was yelling. … Frau von Wulckow whispered: "He is a bad character." "I should say he is," said Diederich with conviction. "Do you know my play?" "Oh, I see. No. But I can guess what he wants to do." The situation was that Jadassohn, who was the son and heir of the old Count Kunze, had been eavesdropping, and was not at all disposed to share with the niece the possessions with which God had endowed him. He imperatively commanded her to clear out, otherwise he would have her arrested as a fraudulent legatee and remove her from Kunze's guardianship.

"What a cad," said Diederich. "After all, she is his sister." The author explained to him:

"That is true, but, on the other hand, he is right in wanting to entail the estates. He is working for the good of the whole family, even though the individual should suffer. Of course, that is tragic for the secret countess."

"When you look at it properly —" Diederich was delighted. This aristocratic standpoint suited him perfectly, when he felt disinclined to give Magda a share in the business on her marriage.

"Countess, your play is excellent," he said, with deep conviction. But just then Frau von Wulckow anxiously seized his arm. There was a noise amongst the audience; chairs were scraped and people were sniggering and blowing their noses. "He is overdoing it," stormed the authoress. "I always told him so."

Jadassohn was really acting outrageously. He had cornered the niece, together with the comic lady, behind a table, and filled the whole stage with noisy demonstrations of his aristocratic personality. The more hostile the audience became, the more aggressively did he realise his part on the stage. Now they were actually hissing. Several people had even turned towards the door behind which Frau von Wulckow was trembling, and were hissing. Perhaps it was only because the door was squeaking—but the authoress drew back, lost her glasses, and in helpless horror clawed the air, until Diederich restored them to her. He tried to console her. "This doesn't matter. Jadassohn goes off very soon, doesn't he?" He was listening through the closed door. "Yes, thank Heaven!" she cried, while her teeth chattered. "Now he has finished. Now my niece flees with the comic old lady and then Kunze returns, you know, with the lieutenant."

"Is there a lieutenant in the play also?" asked Diederich, obviously impressed. "Yes, that is to say, he is still at college; he is the son of Judge Sprezius. He is the poor relation, you know, whom the old Count wishes his daughter to marry. He promises the old man that he will search the whole world for the secret Countess."

"Very naturally," said Diederich. "It is in his own interest to do so."

"You will see, he is a noble character."

"But Jadassohn, Countess. If you will allow me to say so, you should not have given him a part," said Diederich reproachfully and with secret satisfaction. "If only on account of his ears."

Frau von Wulckow felt crushed, as she replied: "I did not think that they would have such an effect on the stage. Do you think it will be a failure?"