The Prussian Officer | Page 3

had a certain zest, such as

wild animals have in free movement. And this irritated the officer more
and more.
In spite of himself, the Captain could not regain his neutrality of feeling
towards his orderly. Nor could he leave the man alone. In spite of
himself, he watched him, gave him sharp orders, tried to take up as
much of his time as possible. Sometimes he flew into a rage with the
young soldier, and bullied him. Then the orderly shut himself off, as it
were out of earshot, and waited, with sullen, flushed face, for the end of
the noise. The words never pierced to his intelligence, he made himself,
protectively, impervious to the feelings of his master.
He had a scar on his left thumb, a deep seam going across the knuckle.
The officer had long suffered from it, and wanted to do something to it.
Still it was there, ugly and brutal on the young, brown hand. At last the
Captain's reserve gave way. One day, as the orderly was smoothing out
the tablecloth, the officer pinned down his thumb with a pencil, asking,
"How did you come by that?"
The young man winced and drew back at attention.
"A wood-axe, Herr Hauptmann," he answered.
The officer waited for further explanation. None came. The orderly
went about his duties. The elder man was sullenly angry. His servant
avoided him. And the next day he had to use all his willpower to avoid
seeing the scarred thumb. He wanted to get hold of it and---- A hot
flame ran in his blood.
He knew his servant would soon be free, and would be glad. As yet, the
soldier had held himself off from the elder man. The Captain grew
madly irritable. He could not rest when the soldier was away, and when
he was present, he glared at him with tormented eyes. He hated those
fine, black brows over trie unmeaning, dark eyes, he was infuriated by
the free movement of the handsome limbs, which no military discipline
could make stiff. And he became harsh and cruelly bullying, using
contempt and satire. The young soldier only grew more mute and

expressionless.
What cattle were you bred by, that you can t keep straight eyes? Look
me in the eyes when I speak to you.
And the soldier turned his dark eyes to the other's face, but there was
no sight in them: he stared with the slightest possible cast, holding back
his sight, perceiving the blue of his master's eyes, but receiving no look
from them. And the elder man went pale, and his reddish eyebrows
twitched. He gave his order, barrenly.
Once he flung a heavy military glove into the young soldier's face.
Then he had the satisfaction of seeing the black eyes flare up into his
own, like a blaze when straw is thrown on a fire. And he had laughed
with a little tremor and a sneer.
But there were only two months more. The youth instinctively tried to
keep himself intact: he tried to serve the officer as if the latter were an
abstract authority and not a man. All his instinct was to avoid personal
contact, even definite hate. But in spite of himself the hate grew,
responsive to the officer's passion. However, he put it in the
background. When he had left the Army he could dare acknowledge it.
By nature he was active, and had many friends. He thought what
amazing good fellows they were. But, without knowing it, he was alone.
Now this solitariness was intensified. It would carry him through his
term. But the officer seemed to be going irritably insane, and the youth
was deeply frightened.
The soldier had a sweetheart, a girl from the mountains, independent
and primitive. The two walked together, rather silently. He went with
her, not to talk, but to have his arm round her, and for the physical
contact. This eased him, made it easier for him to ignore the Captain;
for he could rest with her held fast against his chest. And she, in some
unspoken fashion, was there for him. They loved each other.
The Captain perceived it, and was mad with irritation. He kept the
young man engaged all the evenings long, and took pleasure in the dark
look that came on his face. Occasionally, the eyes of the two men met,

those of the younger sullen and dark, doggedly unalterable, those of the
elder sneering with restless contempt.
The officer tried hard not to admit the passion that had got hold of him.
He would not know that his feeling for his orderly was anything but
that of a man incensed by his stupid, perverse servant. So, keeping
quite justified and conventional in his consciousness, he let the other
thing run