Towards Morning | Page 2

and bleak in its ugliness. The Herr Amtschreiber stood before the Venetian glass and peered anxiously over his spectacles at the reflection of a little man with a small pale face and a fair straggling moustache and round blue eyes. The eyes were young, but the face was middle-aged and faded. The Herr Amtschreiber sighed. He jacked the chocolate-coloured coat higher up on to 'the sloping shoulders and wriggled his legs in the baggy trousers. The shot-silk tie had worked up under one ear. He tied it carefully and fastened the low collar and smoothed his thin fair hair. "Na es geht schon," he repeated sleepily.
The servant came back carrying a round tray with a white china coffee pot and a plate of rusks which she set down at the head of the table. She was tall and broadly built. Her body showed soft rounded lines under the dark cotton dress, but her bare arms were strong and hard as a man's. Her eyes were deeply shadowed and sad and beautiful and stupid as the eyes of a patient, over-burdened animal.
"The breakfast is there, Herr Felde."
He grunted and came and sat down. He dipped a rusk into the coffee and began to eat nervously. Every now and then he stopped crunching to listen, his head a little on one side, his brows knitted.
"Is is it all right, Anna?"
"Oh, yes, yes, Herr Felde. The Sister says she has been asleep. She is asleep now. It will all go splendidly--"
"Yes of course. I mustn't disturb her. I have got to be at the Bureau early this morning. The Grand Duke is to open the new wing. I ought to be gone now. Bring me my hat and coat. Good God what is it?"
He had leapt to his feet as though the cry from behind the closed double doors had been the sting of a serpent. It was a terrible cry not loud but pressed down and running over with agony. It was the cry of some one unsuspecting who has opened a door and looked down suddenly into a pit of horror. The Herr Amtschreiber stood trembling with clasped hands, his mouth gaping. "What is it what is it?" he repeated helplessly.
The servant Anna looked at him. She too was pale, but also she was smiling. The smile had some strange kinship with the cry that came creeping up to them through the stillness in low, advancing waves. It was world old. It lit the patient, stupid face with an unfathomable wisdom.
"The Herr Amtschreiber shouldn't worry. It is just beginning that is all. It must be gone through. It is always so."
"Always? It is impossible. Dear God in heaven, how do you know?"
"It is always so," she repeated stolidly. "My mother had ten children. I was the fourth. Six times have I heard my mother cry like that."
He was walking up and down the room almost running like some distraught hunted little animal with the vibrating, deepening cry at his heels.
"Ten times! Ten times! It's incredible. Intolerable. Why isn't the doctor here? Has the man no conscience. Doesn't he think he'll get his fees? Anna how long how long can that go on?"
"It depends." She gathered the breakfast things together. "Some have it more easily than others. The Frau Amtschreiber is not so young."
He stood still suddenly, close to the double door, his soft felt hat squeezed between his nervous bony hands.
The round blue eyes peered blindly over the crooked spectacles.
"No no we are not young, either of us. Is that our fault? One can't be reckless. One must do things decently in order standes gemasz a Grand Ducal Official can't marry anyhow can he? One must wait But I didn't know I thought nature oughtn't to punish people for doing things decently Anna if I could see her for a minute--"
"The Herr Amtschreiber will be late--"
"Late? Yes and dear God in heaven His Royal Highness is visiting the Rathaus himself. Some of us will get an Order. If only I But my Bureau-Chef doesn't like me. I don't know why. I have always done my best. One must be careful. It wouldn't do to be late. Anna if anything anything happened you must come at once."
She helped him into his overcoat and brought him out into the dark stuffy passage. The cry had become a whimper. It had lost dignity. The revolt and passion had gone out of it. It was the pitiful, exhausted protest of a spirit already broken.
The Herr Amtschreiber shook his head.
"It isn't right it isn't right."
"It will go well," Anna said soothingly. "The Herr Amtschreiber will see it will go well."
Though he was so late he lingered for a long minute outside the massive, grey-faced house. He felt dazed and battered and sore. It was as though