



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive






Transcriber's Notes:

1. Page scan source:
   http://www.archive.org/details/undyingpast00sudegoog

2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].






                            THE UNDYING PAST






                          _By the Same Author_

                   REGINA: OR THE SINS OF THE FATHERS

                             Translated by

                           Beatrice Marshall

                      Crown 8vo.    Third Edition.






                                  THE
                                UNDYING
                                  PAST


                                   BY
                           HERMANN SUDERMANN




                            _TRANSLATED BY_
                          _BEATRICE MARSHALL_




                   LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD
                  NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MDCCCCVI






          WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES






                            THE UNDYING PAST






                            THE UNDYING PAST




                                   I


The  mid-day sun beat fiercely on the much-trodden square in front of a
provincial railway station. The old white mare nodded drowsily between
the shafts of the yellow mailcart which rattled down from the little
town to meet every train. Two or three hotel omnibuses, painted
brownish-grey, with mud-splashed wheels, also came clattering down the
dusty boulevard, at the other end of which rose two stucco towers with
their vanes piercing the deep blue of the July sky.

A clanging bell had already signalled the train's departure from the
neighbouring station. The station-master put on his red cap, the
barmaid began to wipe with a duster the glass case protecting the
cheese and other viands, and a couple of postmen crunched over the
gravel, wheeling trucks containing letter-bags and parcels.

"Not a single soul inside again," grumbled the restaurant-manager
through the waiting-room window, as he watched the hotel omnibus drive
up. "What is the use of keeping beer cool if nobody comes to drink it?"

The barmaid nodded meditatively as she flicked the flies from a pile of
stale rusks.

Then there came in sight, dashing along the boulevard, an open landau
drawn by a pair of spirited bays.

The restaurant-host's face brightened. "The party from Stolten Court!"
exclaimed he, seizing his cap. "The young gentlemen's leave is over,
then."

The carriage steered clear of waiting passengers with a sweeping curve
as it bowled up to the station stairs.

One of the young cuirassier officers who occupied the back seat of the
carriage pulled himself slowly erect, and, in all his fair-haired
splendour, climbed out, pushing aside with a brusque movement the
restaurant-manager, who had officiously thought it necessary to tender
his services. The other youth, equally gigantic and fair-haired, and
perhaps a trifle more phlegmatic, followed. They threw open on either
side the carriage doors, and, with an action of the arm that seemed
borrowed from a Court quadrille, assisted the stupendous female form
sitting on the front seat of the carriage to alight.

With swelling bosom and wide-spreading hips, her fat hands imprisoned
in new light kid gloves, her grey gauze veil thrown back, displaying a
snub nose, the lady calmly descended, with a glance over her shoulder
of somewhat sharp disapproval at the old gentleman who followed her.

"Leave me alone, boys," he snapped, when his sons would have helped him
too. "Your broken-down old father is still able to help himself."

He threw off his dust-coat on the seat behind him, and with an elastic
bound sprang down without touching the carriage steps. He stood there,
a dapper figure in his short, elegantly cut coat, his little eyes
twinkling with self-satisfaction out of a face lined from fast living,
the cheeks of which hung down on either side of an aggressively
curled-up grey moustache. He had to look up to his wife and sons, who
were all more than a head taller than himself.

The party entered the small waiting-room reserved for first-class
passengers, which, besides two bare polished tables, and portraits in
lithograph, veiled in green gauze, of the county nobility and gentry,
boasted nothing but apparatuses for the annihilation of flies; which
consisted of a glass bottle full of soapy water, two plates containing
poisoned paper, and a few glasses covered with brandy-soaked bread
bored with holes. Within and around these traps revolved hundreds of
half-drowned and poisoned flies in their last death-struggle.

The host of the restaurant offered his refreshments to the "Herr
Baron"--Koenigsberg beer or tea, also an incomparably fine brew of
lemonade, were to be had. Herr von Stolt ordered beer, and sent his
sons out to look after their luggage.

They closed the door behind them as they took their leave, and
disappeared in the direction of the buffet, where they were soon heard
chaffing the barmaid.

"Thank God that they are going away," said the lady, with a sigh,
loosening her violet hat-strings, from which a broad double chin
billowed forth awe-inspiringly. "It is high time."

Her spouse suppressed a smile, and then asked, "Why?"

"Have you seen anything of either of them between meal-times during the
last fortnight?" she answered with another question.

"Now, now, it is not so bad as all that," repeated he; "but, as you
say, they were certainly out a good deal."

"And where did they go? That is the point."

"Well, where should they go? To the Prussian Crown, or some such
resort, to drink a little champagne and amuse themselves with the
girls. I did the same when I was their age."

"And you aren't much better now."

"Really--I must protest, Malwine."

She drew herself up and measured him from head to foot with the
compassionate glance of a wife to whom marital forgiveness has perforce
become a habit.

"We won't drag you into the matter, my dear," she answered. "You know
no good can come of it. Neither do I reproach the boys on that score.
They are welcome to run after all the girls in the neighbourhood,
whether dairymaids or barmaids, to their hearts' content."

"You are very long-suffering, Malwine."

"Certainly I am. But what doesn't please me is that my sons should grow
too fond of society women--married women belonging to our own set, too.
Koenigsberg, for two cuirassiers who have inherited money from their
father and height from their mother----"

"That I am shorter than you are, dear Malwine," he interrupted, "is a
fact that I am weary of hearing you insist on. I will do my best to
grow."

"I was going to say," she continued, "that Koenigsberg is not exactly a
paradise of all the virtues--quite the contrary." A maternal sigh
escaped her huge billowy bosom. "All the more important, therefore,
that home should remain for them a purer world. Tell me, what would
happen when they begin to regard the circle from which I shall one day
choose for them wives with critical eyes? And why? Because there are
creatures in it who have no idea of maintaining their dignity in
associating with young men."

"Upon my word, I don't know what you are driving at," Herr von Stolt
said, and gazed intently at the toes of his riding-boots.

"Why feign to be ignorant," answered his wife. "You know perfectly well
the person I mean, being as intimate with her as your sons."

"I have long since given up meddling in local scandals, my dear," he
said, with a snigger; "but if with all these obscure hints it is
Felicitas Kletzingk whom you mean, you are decidedly on the wrong
scent. There never was a more guileless little woman. We know what
Ulrich is. He is always either spending the day in Berlin or sitting
lost in a brown study. And his little wife, of course, will amuse
herself."

Frau von Stolt broke into a harsh laugh.

"Of course; now let us hear the old category of her perfections. She is
an angel--on that point all the men within a circuit of ten miles are
agreed. She is so ingenuous and so melancholy; so talented and so good;
so gentle, and, in short, a paragon. But we women see deeper, my
friend. We are not to be taken in by any wiles, flute-like tones, and
smiling fawn-like eyes. Then for us, truly, there lies behind it all no
temptation to appropriate what is not our own."

"Malwine, you are becoming insulting," retorted Herr von Stolt,
twirling the ends of his grey moustache with an injured air.

"If only there were something in her!" the lady exclaimed, undaunted;
"but I assure you she is commonplace to the very core. There is nothing
genuine about her. She has her looks, and nothing else. I can't
conceive what can have attracted Ulrich with his position and fortune
to this person. Rhaden's widow, poor, with a child, and compromised to
boot."

"How compromised?"

"Don't be absurd, Alfred," was the reply. "You men have always been of
opinion that Rhaden fell in the duel with Sellenthin because there was
a case of adultery at the bottom of it."

"Yes, certainly before her second marriage. So much I will admit. But
Leo Sellenthin and Ulrich have been friends from childhood, and what
friends! Something quite extraordinary, like David and Jonathan. Would
Ulrich have married this woman if there had been anything between her
and his friend? It stands to reason that there could have been nothing,
doesn't it?"

Frau von Stolt relapsed into meditation. Her husband's argument
apparently had convinced her.

"But apart from that altogether," she began again, after a pause. "Leo
is abroad, and not coming home. What concerns us now is Felicitas
Kletzingk's present conduct, and I must say that it almost amounts to a
scandal."

Herr von Stolt shrugged his shoulders.

"Here is an example," continued his wife--"just one example. The other
morning I had occasion to turn out our sons' pockets."

"So you are in the habit of turning out other people's pockets!"
exclaimed Herr Stolt, perceptibly disturbed by the discovery.

"Yes, why not? It is advisable to keep one's self abreast of their
little peccadilloes in love as well as professional affairs. And what
do you think I found? Letters from Madam Felicitas--small olive-green
missives, reeking with that abominable perfume with which she always
scents herself."

Herr von Stolt involuntarily sniffed the air, and smiled dreamily as he
did so.

"It was my privilege to read through a real--what do you call
it?--aesthetic correspondence, as exaggerated as you please, all about
noble humanity, moonshine, communion with nature, and other rubbish.
Not that there is any question of our good sons being capable of living
up to such a silly _role_ for though they have an excellent knowledge
of horses, this sort of high-falutin is quite beyond their
comprehension, thank God. Besides, I talked to them each separately,
and put my emphatic veto upon it."

"And has that done any good?" asked Herr von Stolt, with a grin.

"To a certain extent it has. But of course I could not prevent their
actual visits to Felicitas. I don't understand how Ulrich can wink at
his wife's intercourse with these young men. Not only our two, but
Otzen and Neuhaus, and the second Sembritzky, and a lot more of them are
constantly there, all young and green."

"Hum! there are older visitors too, I'm thinking," interposed Herr von
Stolt, thoughtfully.

"Yes. There is yourself, for instance."

"Really, Malwine!" he ejaculated reproachfully.

"Dear Alfred, we understand each other."

"When I do happen to ride over to Uhlenfelde, it is to see Ulrich."

"Especially when Ulrich is in the Reichstag?"

The matrimonial recriminations ended abruptly, for at this moment a
tall spare masculine figure, in a white dust-coat which hung without a
fold, glided past the waiting-room window. It rather resembled a
walking towel, on which some one had stuck a head.

"Talk of the devil!" exclaimed Frau Malwine, and jumped up to see
whither the passing form had betaken itself.

"Who was it?" asked Herr von Stolt, who was sitting with his back to
the window.

"Ulrich von Kletzingk."

The door of the vestibule opened, and he who had gone by came in.

He had a pale sickly face of a reflective cast, with sharp small nose
and hollow cheeks, set on narrow shoulders and a long freckled neck. It
was framed in a light beard, which hung about it like a ragged fringe.
The high, rather receding forehead was furrowed with three
perpendicular lines denoting mental fatigue, and it ended in a shock of
bristly dark-brown hair standing erect. The most remarkable feature of
this intellectual head were the dark brilliant eyes, which shone forth
from their blue sockets like torches of energy. After emitting luminous
flashes, they seemed to slumber wearily again till a new excitement set
them aflame once more.

When he was aware who occupied the room, a shadow of nervous uneasiness
descended for a moment on the new-corner's face, but passed quickly
away. The tone in which he greeted the husband and wife was moderately
friendly, if not cold. His voice was not pleasant to hear. It was
shrill and high pitched, and however rapidly he spoke, the words seemed
to be forced with pain and difficulty from his narrow chest.

Frau Malwine beamed. She was no longer the mother of the Gracchi, in
which part she had been just posing to her husband. She exhausted
herself in expressions of affection for Frau Felicitas, and added the
tender reproach that it was ages since she had seen anything of her.
Twice when she had been expected, an extra supply of meringues had been
baked, of the kind which was the pride of her modest menage, but Frau
Felicitas had not come. Ulrich Kletzingk allowed this outpouring of
gush to pass over him quietly. Only the nervous playing with the
buttons of his riding-glove betrayed that he was not quite at ease.

"You put us to shame, madame," he answered. "Your friendship, however,
has been too unobtrusive, for I think that it is some months since we
saw you at Uhlenfelde."

Frau Malwine, a little disconcerted at the reminder that she owed
Uhlenfelde a call, nevertheless, in the same strain of affected
_naivete_, went so far as to explain that she was sure she had been
well represented by her sons.

Kletzingk bowed and smiled politely.

"At any rate," she continued, with animation, "I ought to express my
thanks to you, Herr Baron, for the happy influence the atmosphere of
your house has exercised on my young scapegraces. My only fear is that
I may have abused your hospitality in sending them over to you nearly
every day. I trust that they have always given my kind regards?"

"I believe so, probably." He gazed out of the window. At that moment he
longed for nothing more earnestly than to be delivered from this
woman's offensive chatter.

Herr von Stolt, who hitherto had been content to smile in his sleeve in
cynical enjoyment of his wife's sallies, now joined in the
conversation. He inquired after the condition of the crops at
Uhlenfelde, and gave a good report of his own. The harvest had been got
in satisfactorily on the whole; only the wheat was middling. He left
the rest to Providence. "But do tell me, Kletzingk," he said, suddenly
taking another tack, "what is up at Halewitz? The rye there is yellow
as guineas and still uncut. I could scarcely believe my eyes as we
drove by there to-day."

Baron Kletzingk bit his lips, bent his head, and stared silently at the
ground.

"I don't mean to reproach you for it, of course," Stolt added hastily;
"we all know that you are not responsible for this estate falling into
a neglected hell--pardon the expression, Malwine--but our friend has
been globe-trotting for four years. In my opinion it is time that he
came home."

"I am expecting him now," replied Kletzingk.

The effect of this announcement was stupendous.

Herr von Stolt nearly choked in suppressing a cry of amazement, and his
wife bounded up as if she had been shot from a cannon.

"Leo Sellenthin! It is impossible! Coming now by this train?"

"Yes, by this train."

"Where is he coming from?"

"That I don't know, dear madame. My last letter to him was addressed to
La Plata."

"And you tell me all this as if it were the simplest thing in the
world. Aren't you pleased?"

"How could I be otherwise than delighted?" Kletzingk responded. "With
him I lost half myself."

"Ah, to be sure. And, do tell me, Leo and you--the old intimacy exists
still?"

"Still, madame, and I hope and trust that it will continue to exist in
defiance of anything the world may choose to say."

His eyes rested steadily on her face, while she turned to study a
fly-paper with interest.

The two young cuirassier officers rushed in to announce that the train
was in sight. When they saw the baron they appeared suddenly abashed.
They waited awkwardly till he offered them his hand, and then seized it
with somewhat excessive warmth. But Kletzingk was far from paying heed
to their manners. It was with an effort that he roused himself
sufficiently to bid the old lady and gentleman a courteous farewell.

"I hope Sellenthin will speak to us," called Frau von Stolt after him.

He did not hear. With his long