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_ From husbands in general, and from oogly German husbands
in particular may Hymen defend me! Never again will I
attempt to select "echt Amerikanische" clothes for a
woman who must not weary her young husband. But how was
I to know that the harmless little shopping expedition
would resolve itself into a domestic tragedy, with Herr
Nirlanger as the villain, Frau Nirlanger as the
persecuted heroine, and I as--what is it in tragedy that
corresponds to the innocent bystander in real life? That
would be my role.
The purchasing of the clothes was a real joy. Next
to buying pretty things for myself there is nothing I
like better than choosing them for some one else. And
when that some one else happens to be a fascinating
little foreigner who coos over the silken stuffs in a
delightful mixture of German and English; and especially
when that some one else must be made to look so charming
that she will astonish her oogly husband, then does the
selecting of those pretty things cease to be a task, and
become an art.
It was to be a complete surprise to Herr Nirlanger.
He was to know nothing of it until everything was
finished and Frau Nirlanger, dressed in the prettiest of
the pretty Amerikanisch gowns, was ready to astound him
when he should come home from the office of the vast
plant where he solved engineering problems.
"From my own money I buy all this," Frau Nirlanger
confided to me, with a gay little laugh of excitement, as
we started out. "From Vienna it comes. Always I have
given it at once to my husband, as a wife should.
Yesterday it came, but I said nothing, and when my
husband said to me, `Anna, did not the money come as
usual to-day? It is time,' I told a little lie--but a
little one, is it not? Very amusing it was. Almost I
did laugh. Na, he will not be cross when he see how his
wife like the Amerikanische ladies will look. He admires
very much the ladies of Amerika. Many times he has said
so.
("I'll wager he has--the great, ugly boor!" I
thought, in parenthesis.) "We'll show him!" I said,
aloud. "He won't know you. Such a lot of beautiful
clothes as we can buy with all this money. Oh, dear Frau
Nirlanger, it's going to be slathers of fun! I feel as
excited about it as though it were a trousseau we were
buying."
"So it is," she replied, a little shadow of sadness
falling across the brightness of her face. "I had no
proper clothes when we were married--but nothing! You
know perhaps my story. In America, everyone knows
everything. It is wonderful. When I ran away to marry
Konrad Nirlanger I had only the dress which I wore; even
that I borrowed from one of the upper servants, on a
pretext, so that no one should recognize me. Ach Gott!
I need not have worried. So! You see, it will be after
all a trousseau."
Why, oh, why should a woman with her graceful
carriage and pretty vivacity have been cursed with such
an ill-assorted lot of features! Especially when certain
boorish young husbands have expressed an admiration for
pink-and-white effects in femininity.
"Never mind, Mr. Husband, I'll show yez!" I resolved
as the elevator left us at the floor where waxen ladies
in shining glass cases smiled amiably all the day.
There must be no violent pinks or blues. Brown was
too old. She was not young enough for black. Violet was
too trying. And so the gowns began to strew tables and
chairs and racks, and still I shook my head, and Frau
Nirlanger looked despairing, and the be-puffed and real
Irish-crocheted saleswoman began to develop a baleful
gleam about the eyes.
And then we found it! It was a case of love at first
sight. The unimaginative would have called it gray. The
thoughtless would have pronounced it pink. It was
neither, and both; a soft, rosily-gray mixture of the
two, like the sky that one sometimes sees at winter
twilight, the pink of the sunset veiled by the gray of
the snow clouds. It was of a supple, shining cloth,
simple in cut, graceful in lines.
"There! We've found it. Let's pray that it will not
require too much altering."
But when it had been slipped over her head we groaned
at the inadequacy of her old-fashioned stays. There
followed a flying visit to the department where hips were
whisked out of sight in a jiffy, and where lines
miraculously took the place of curves. Then came the
gown once more, over the new stays this time. The effect
was magical. The Irish-crocheted saleswoman and I
clasped hands and fell back in attitudes of admiration.
Frau Nirlanger turned this way and that before the long
mirror and chattered like a pleased child. Her
adjectives grew into words of six syllables. She cooed
over the soft-shining stuff in little broken exclamations
in French and German.
Then came a straight and simple street suit of blue
cloth, a lingerie gown of white, hats, shoes and even a
couple of limp satin petticoats. The day was gone before
we could finish.
I bullied them into promising the pinky-gray gown for
the next afternoon.
"Sooch funs!" giggled Frau Nirlanger, "and how it
makes one tired. So kind you were, to take this trouble
for me. Me, I could never have warred with that Fraulein
who served us--so haughty she was, nicht? But it is good
again pretty clothes to have. Pretty gowns I lofe--you
also, not?"
"Indeed I do lofe 'em. But my money comes to me in
a yellow pay envelope, and it is spent before it reaches
me, as a rule. It doesn't leave much of a margin for
general recklessness."
A tiny sigh came from Frau Nirlanger. "There will be
little to give to Konrad this time. So much money they
cost, those clothes! But Konrad, he will not care when
he sees the so beautiful dresses, is it not so?"
"Care!" I cried with a great deal of bravado,
although a tiny inner voice spake in doubt. "Certainly
not. How could he?"
Next day the boxes came, and we smuggled them into my
room. The unwrapping of the tissue paper folds was a
ceremony. We reveled in the very crackle of it. I had
scuttled home from the office as early as decency would
permit, in order to have plenty of time for the
dressing. It must be quite finished before Herr
Nirlanger should arrive. Frau Nirlanger had purchased
three tickets for the German theater, also as a surprise,
and I was to accompany the happily surprised husband and
the proud little wife of the new Amerikanische clothes.
I coaxed her to let me do things to her hair.
Usually she wore a stiff and ugly coiffure that could
only be described as a chignon. I do not recollect
ever having seen a chignon, but I know that it must
look like that. I was thankful for my Irish deftness of
fingers as I stepped back to view the result of my
labors. The new arrangement of the hair gave her
features a new softness and dignity.
We came to the lacing of the stays, with their
exaggerated length. "Aber!" exclaimed Frau Nirlanger,
not daring to laugh because of the strange snugness. "Ach!"
and again, Aber to laugh it is! "
We had decided the prettiest of the new gowns must do
honor to the occasion. "This shade is called ashes of
roses," I explained, as I slipped it over her head.
"Ashes of roses!" she echoed. "How pretty, yes?
But a little sad too, is it not so? Like rosy hopes that
have been withered. Ach, what a foolish talk! So, now
you will fasten it please. A real trick it is to button
such a dress--so sly they are, those fastenings."
When all the sly fastenings were secure I stood at
gaze.
"Nose is shiny," I announced, searching in a drawer
for chamois and powder.
Frau Nirlanger raised an objecting hand. "But Konrad
does not approve of such things. He has said so. He
has--"
"You tell your Konrad that a chamois skin isn't half
as objectionable as a shiny one. Come here and let me
dust this over your nose and chin, while I breathe a
prayer of thanks that I have no overzealous husband near
to forbid me the use of a bit of powder. There! If I
sez it mesilf as shouldn't, yez ar-r-re a credit t' me,
me darlint."
"You are satisfied. There is not one small thing
awry? Ach, how we shall laugh at Konrad's face."
"Satisfied! I'd kiss you if I weren't afraid that I
should muss you up. You're not the same woman. You look
like a girl! And so pretty! Now skedaddle into your own
rooms, but don't you dare to sit down for a moment. I'm
going down to get Frau Knapf before your husband
arrives."
"But is there then time?" inquired Frau Nirlanger.
"He should be here now."
"I'll bring her up in a jiffy, just for one peep.
She won't know you! Her face will be a treat! Don't
touch your hair--it's quite perfect. And f'r Jawn's
sake! Don't twist around to look at yourself in the back
or something will burst, I know it will. I'll be back in
a minute. Now run!"
The slender, graceful figure disappeared with a gay
little laugh, and I flew downstairs for Frau Knapf. She
was discovered with a spoon in one hand and a spluttering
saucepan in the other. I detached her from them, clasped
her big, capable red hands and dragged her up the stairs,
explaining as I went.
"Now don't fuss about that supper! Let 'em wait.
You must see her before Herr Nirlanger comes home. He's
due any minute. She looks like a girl. So young! And
actually pretty! And her figure--divine! Funny what a
difference a decent pair of corsets, and a gown, and some
puffs will make, h'm?"
Frau Knapf was panting as I pulled her after me in
swift eagerness. Between puffs she brought out
exclamations of surprise and unbelief such as:
"Unmoglich! (Puff! Puff!) Aber--wunderbar! (Puff!
Puff!)
We stopped before Frau Nirlanger's door. I struck a
dramatic pose. "Prepare!" I cried grandly, and threw
open the door with a bang.
Crouched against the wall at a far corner of the room
was Frau Nirlanger. Her hands were clasped over her
breast and her eyes were dilated as though she had been
running. In the center of the room stood Konrad
Nirlanger, and on his oogly face was the very oogliest
look that I have ever seen on a man. He glanced at us as
we stood transfixed in the doorway, and laughed a short,
sneering laugh that was like a stinging blow on the
cheek.
"So!" he said; and I would not have believed that men
really said "So!" in that way outside of a melodrama.
"So! You are in the little surprise, yes? You carry
your meddling outside of your newspaper work, eh? I
leave behind me an old wife in the morning and in the
evening, presto! I find a young bride. Wonderful!--
but wonderful!" He laughed an unmusical and mirthless
laugh.
"But--don't you like it?" I asked, like a simpleton.
Frau Nirlanger seemed to shrink before our very eyes,
so that the pretty gown hung in limp folds about her.
I stared, fascinated, at Konrad Nirlanger's cruel
face with its little eyes that were too close together
and its chin that curved in below the mouth and out again
so grotesquely.
"Like it?" sneered Konrad Nirlanger. "For a young
girl, yes. But how useless, this belated trousseau.
What a waste of good money! For see, a young wife I do
not want. Young women one can have in plenty, always.
But I have an old woman married, and for an old woman the
gowns need be few--eh, Frau Orme? And you too, Frau
Knapf?"
Frau Knapf, crimson and staring, was dumb. There
came a little shivering moan from the figure crouched in
the corner, and Frau Nirlanger, her face queerly withered
and ashen, crumpled slowly in a little heap on the floor
and buried her shamed head in her arms.
Konrad Nirlanger turned to his wife, the black look
on his face growing blacker.
"Come, get up Anna," he ordered, in German. "These
heroics become not a woman of your years. And too, you
must not ruin the so costly gown that will be returned
to-morrow."
Frau Nirlanger's white face was lifted from the
shelter of her arms. The stricken look was still upon
it, but there was no cowering in her attitude now.
Slowly she rose to her feet. I had not realized that she
was so tall.
"The gown does not go back," she said.
"So?" he snarled, with a savage note in his voice.
"Now hear me. There shall be no more buying of gowns and
fripperies. You hear? It is for the wife to come to the
husband for the money; not for her to waste it wantonly
on gowns, like a creature of the streets. You," his
voice was an insult, "you, with your wrinkles and your
faded eyes in a gown of--" he turned inquiringly toward
me--"How does one call it, that color, Frau Orme?"
There came a blur of tears to my eyes. "It is called
ashes of roses," I answered. "Ashes of roses."
Konrad Nirlanger threw back his head and laughed a
laugh as stinging as a whip-lash. "Ashes of roses! So? It
is well named. For my dear wife it is poetically fit, is it
not so? For see, her roses are but withered ashes, eh Anna?"
Deliberately and in silence Anna Nirlanger walked to
the mirror and stood there, gazing at the woman in the
glass. There was something dreadful and portentous about
the calm and studied deliberation with which she
critically viewed that reflection. She lifted her arms
slowly and patted into place the locks that had become
disarranged, turning her head from side to side to study
the effect. Then she took from a drawer the bit of
chamois skin that I had given her, and passed it lightly
over her eyelids and cheeks, humming softly to herself
the while. No music ever sounded so uncanny to my ears.
The woman before the mirror looked at the woman in the
mirror with a long, steady, measuring look. Then, slowly
and deliberately, the long graceful folds of her lovely
gown trailing behind her, she walked over to where her
frowning husband stood. So might a queen have walked,
head held high, gaze steady. She stopped within half a
foot of him, her eyes level with his. For a long
half-minute they stood thus, the faded blue eyes of the
wife gazing into the sullen black eyes of the husband,
and his were the first to drop, for all the noble
blood in Anna Nirlanger's veins, and all her long line of
gently bred ancestors were coming to her aid in dealing
with her middle-class husband.
"You forget," she said, very slowly and distinctly.
"If this were Austria, instead of Amerika, you would not
forget. In Austria people of your class do not speak in
this manner to those of my caste."
"Unsinn!" laughed Konrad Nirlanger. This is
Amerika."
"Yes," said Anna Nirlanger, "this is Amerika. And in
Amerika all things are different. I see now that my
people knew of what they spoke when they called me mad to
think of wedding a clod of the people, such as you."
For a moment I thought that he was going to strike
her. I think he would have, if she had flinched. But
she did not. Her head was held high, and her eyes did
not waver.
"I married you for love. It is most comical, is it
not? With you I thought I should find peace, and
happiness and a re-birth of the intellect that was being
smothered in the splendor and artificiality and the
restrictions of my life there. Well, I was wrong. But
wrong. Now hear me!" Her voice was
tense with passion. "There will be gowns--as many and as
rich as I choose. You have said many times that the
ladies of Amerika you admire. And see! I shall be also
one of those so-admired ladies. My money shall go for
gowns! For hats! For trifles of lace and velvet and
fur! You shall learn that it is not a peasant woman whom
you have married. This is Amerika, the land of the free,
my husband. And see! Who is more of Amerika than I?
Who?"
She laughed a high little laugh and came over to me,
taking my hands in her own.
"Dear girl, you must run quickly and dress. For this
evening we go to the theater. Oh, but you must. There
shall be no unpleasantness, that I promise. My husband
accompanies us--with joy. Is it not so, Konrad? With
joy? So!"
Wildly I longed to decline, but I dared not. So I
only nodded, for fear of the great lump in my throat, and
taking Frau Knapf's hand I turned and fled with her.
Frau Knapf was muttering:
"Du Hund! Du unverschamter Hund du!" in good
Billingsgate German, and wiping her eyes with her apron.
And I dressed with trembling fingers because I dared not
otherwise face the brave little Austrian, the plucky little
aborigine who, with the donning of the new Amerikanische
gown had acquired some real Amerikanisch nerve. _
Read next: CHAPTER XI - VON GERHARD SPEAKS
Read previous: CHAPTER IX - THE LADY FROM VIENNA
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