In a German Pension | Page 8

yesterday," said the Herr Rat.
"That young man I refuse to converse with. He told me last year that he
had stayed in France in an hotel where they did not have serviettes;
what a place it must have been! In Austria even the cabmen have
serviettes. Also I have heard that he discussed 'free love' with Bertha as
she was sweeping his room. I am not accustomed to such company. I
had suspected him for a long time."
"Young blood," answered the Herr Rat genially. "I have had several
disputes with him--you have heard them--is it not so?" turning to me.
"A great many," I said, smiling.
"Doubtless you too consider me behind the times. I make no secret of
my age; I am sixty-nine; but you must have surely observed how
impossible it was for him to speak at all when I raised my voice."
I replied with the utmost conviction, and, catching Frau Fischer's eye,
suddenly realised I had better go back to the house and write some
letters.
It was dark and cool in my room. A chestnut tree pushed green boughs
against the window. I looked down at the horsehair sofa so openly
flouting the idea of curling up as immoral, pulled the red pillow on to
the floor and lay down. And barely had I got comfortable when the
door opened and Frau Fischer entered.
"The Herr Rat had a bathing appointment," she said, shutting the door
after her. "May I come in? Pray do not move. You look like a little
Persian kitten. Now, tell me something really interesting about your life.
When I meet new people I squeeze them dry like a sponge. To begin

with--you are married."
I admit the fact.
"Then, dear child, where is your husband?"
I said he was a sea-captain on a long and perilous voyage.
"What a position to leave you in--so young and so unprotected."
She sat down on the sofa and shook her finger at me playfully.
"Admit, now, that you keep your journeys secret from him. For what
man would think of allowing a woman with such a wealth of hair to go
wandering in foreign countries? Now, supposing that you lost your
purse at midnight in a snowbound train in North Russia?"
"But I haven't the slightest intention--" I began.
"I don't say that you have. But when you said good-bye to your dear
man I am positive that you had no intention of coming here. My dear, I
am a woman of experience, and I know the world. While he is away
you have a fever in your blood. Your sad heart flies for comfort to these
foreign lands. At home you cannot bear the sight of that empty bed---it
is like widowhood. Since the death of my dear husband I have never
known an hour's peace."
"I like empty beds," I protested sleepily, thumping the pillow.
"That cannot be true because it is not natural. Every wife ought to feel
that her place is by her husband's side--sleeping or waking. It is plain to
see that the strongest tie of all does not yet bind you. Wait until a little
pair of hands stretches across the water--wait until he comes into
harbour and sees you with the child at your breast."
I sat up stiffly.
"But I consider child-bearing the most ignominious of all professions,"
I said.

For a moment there was silence. Then Frau Fischer reached down and
caught my hand.
"So young and yet to suffer so cruelly," she murmured. "There is
nothing that sours a woman so terribly as to be left alone without a man,
especially if she is married, for then it is impossible for her to accept
the attention of others--unless she is unfortunately a widow. Of course,
I know that sea-captains are subject to terrible temptations, and they are
as inflammable as tenor singers--that is why you must present a bright
and energetic appearance, and try and make him proud of you when his
ship reaches port."
This husband that I had created for the benefit of Frau Fischer became
in her hands so substantial a figure that I could no longer see myself
sitting on a rock with seaweed in my hair, awaiting that phantom ship
for which all women love to suppose they hunger. Rather I saw myself
pushing a perambulator up the gangway, and counting up the missing
buttons on my husband's uniform jacket.
"Handfuls of babies, that is what you are really in need of," mused Frau
Fischer. "Then, as the father of a family he cannot leave you. Think of
his delight and excitement when he saw you!"
The plan seemed to me something of a risk. To appear suddenly with
handfuls of strange babies is not generally calculated to