The Indian Lily and Other StoriesSudermann, Hermann
General
The Indian Lily and Other Stories
Sudermann, Hermann
Short stories, German -- Translations into English; Sudermann, Hermann, 1857-1928 -- Translations into English
He was wealthy enough to have been able to indulge in the luxury of
that displeasure. In addition his estates demanded more rigorous
management.... From Christmas to late spring he lived in Berlin, where
his older brother occupied one of those positions at court that mean
little enough either to superior or inferior ranks, but which, in a
certain social set dependent upon the court, have an influence of
inestimable value. Without assuming the part of either a social lion
or a patron, he used this influence with sufficient thoroughness to be
popular, even, in certain cases, to be feared, and belonged to that
class of men to whom one always confides one's difficulties, never
one's wife.
John came to announce to his master that the bath was ready. And while
Niebeldingk stretched himself lazily in the tepid water he let his
reflections glide serenely about the delightful occurrence of the
past night.
That occurrence had been due for six months, but opportunity had been
lacking. "I am closely watched and well-known," she had told him, "and
dare not go on secret errands." ... Now at last their chance had come
and had been used with clever circumspectness.... Somewhere on the
Polish boundary lived one of her cousins to whose wedding she was
permitted to travel alone.... She had planned to arrive in Berlin
unannounced and, instead of taking the morning train from Eydtkuhnen,
to take the train of the previous evening. Thus a night was gained
whose history had no necessary place in any family chronicle and the
memories of which could, if need were, be obliterated from one's own
consciousness.... Her arrival and departure had caused a few moments
of really needless anxiety. That was all. No acquaintance had run into
them, no waiter had intimated any suspicion, the very cabby who drove
them through the dawn had preserved his stupid lack of expression when
Niebeldingk suddenly sprang from the vehicle and permitted the lady to
be driven on alone....
Before his eyes stood her picture--as he had seen her lying during the
night in his arms, fevered with anxiety and rapture ... Ordinarily
her eyes were large and serene, almost drowsy.... The night had proven
to him what a glow could be kindled in them. Whether her broad brows,
growing together over the nose, could be regarded as a beautiful
feature--that was an open question. He liked them--so much
was certain.
"Thank heaven," he thought. "At last, once more--a _woman_."
And he thought of another who for three years had been allied to him
by bonds of the tenderest intimacy and whom he had this
night betrayed.
"Between us," he consoled himself, "things will remain as they have
been, and I can enjoy my liberty."
He sprayed his body with the icy water of the douche and rang for John
who stood outside of the door with a bath-robe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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