The Benefactress Part 23

"Inst.i.tution? Charity? Oh no, no!" cried Anna. "It is a home here, and there is no charity in it from the attic to the cellar." And she went towards her with outstretched hands.

"A home! Yes, that is it," cried Frau von Treumann, waving her back, "it is a home, a charitable home!"

"No, not a home like that--a real home, my home, your home--_ein Heim_,"

Anna protested; but vainly, because the German word _Heim_ and the English word "home" have little meaning in common.

"_Ein Heim, ein Heim_," repeated Frau von Treumann with extraordinary bitterness, "_ein Frauenheim_--yes, that is what it is, and everybody knows it."

"Everybody knows it?"

"How could I think," she said, wringing her hands, "how could I think when I decided to come here that the whole world was to be made acquainted with your plans? I thought they were to be kept private, that the world was to think we were your friends----"

"And so you are."

"--your guests----"

"Oh, more than guests--this is home."

"Home! Home! Always that word----" And she burst into a fresh torrent of tears.

Anna stood helpless. What she said appeared only to aggravate Frau von Treumann's sorrow and rage--for surely there was anger as well as sorrow? She was at a complete loss for the reason of this outburst. Had not every detail been discussed in the correspondence? Had not that correspondence been exhaustive even to boredom?

"You have told your servants----"

"My servants?"

"You have told them that we are objects of charity----"

"I----" began Anna, and then was silent.

"It is not true--I have come here from very different motives--but they think me an object of charity. I rang the bell--I cannot unstrap my trunks--I never have been expected to unstrap trunks." The sobs here interfered for a moment with further speech. "After a long while--your servant came--she was insolent--the trunks are there still unstrapped--you see them--she knows--everything."

"She shall go to-morrow."

"The others think the same thing."

"They shall go to-morrow--that is, have they been rude to you?"

"Not yet, but they will be."

"When they are, they shall go."

"I went into the corridor to seek other a.s.sistance, and I met--I met----"

"Who?"

"Oh, to have fallen so low!" cried Frau von Treumann, clasping her hands, and raising her streaming eyes to the ceiling.

"But who did you meet?"

"I met--I met the Penheim."

"The Penheim? Do you mean Princess Ludwig?"

"You never said she was here----"

"I did not know that it would interest you."

"--living on charity--she was always shameless--I was at school with her. Oh, I would not have come for any inducement if I had known she was here! She holds nothing sacred, she will boast of her own degradation, she will write to all her friends that I am here too--I told them I was coming only on a visit to you--they knew I knew your uncle--but the Penheim--the Penheim----" and Frau von Treumann threw herself into a chair and covered her face with her hands to shut out the horrid vision.

The corners of Anna's mouth began to take the upward direction that would end in a smile; and feeling how ill-placed such a contortion would be in the presence of this tumultuous grief, she brought them carefully back to a position of proper solemnity. Besides, why should she smile?

The poor lady was clearly desperately unhappy about something, though what it was Anna did not quite know. She had looked forward to this first evening with her new friends as to a thing apart, a thing beyond the ordinary experience of life, profound in its peace, perfect in its harmony, the first taste of rest after war, of port after stormy seas; and here was Frau von Treumann plunged in a very audible grief, and in the next room was the baroness, a disconcerting combination of inquisitiveness and ice, and farther down the pa.s.sage was Fraulein Kuhrauber--in what state, Anna wondered, would she find Fraulein Kuhrauber? Anyhow she had little reason to smile. But the horror with which Princess Ludwig had been mentioned seemed droll beside her own knowledge of the sterling qualities of that excellent woman. She went over to the chair in which Frau von Treumann lay prostrate, and sat down beside her. She was glad that they had reached the stage of sitting down, for talking is difficult to a person who will not keep still.

"How sorry I am," she said, in her pretty, hesitating German, "that you should have been made unhappy the very first evening. Marie is a little wretch. Don't let her stupidity make you miserable. You shall not see her again, I promise you." And she patted Frau von Treumann's arm. "But about Princess Ludwig, now," she went on cheerfully, "she has been here some weeks and you soon learn to know a person you are with every day, and really I have found her nothing but good and kind."

"_Ach_, she is shameless--she recoils before no degradation!" burst out Frau von Treumann, suddenly removing her hands from her face. "The trouble she has given her relations! She delights in dragging her name in the dirt. She has tried to get places in the most impossible families, and made no attempt to hide what she was doing. She has broken the old Furst's heart. And she talks about it all, and has no shame, no decency----"

"But is it not admirable----" began Anna.

"She will gloat over me, and tell everyone that I am here in the same way as she is. If she is not ashamed for herself, do you think she will spare me?"

"But why should you think there is anything to be ashamed of in coming to live with me and be my dear friend?"

"No, there is nothing, so long as my motives in coming are known. But people talk so cruelly, and will distort the facts so gladly, and we have always held our heads so high. And now the Penheim!" She sobbed afresh.

"I shall ask the princess not to write to anyone about your being here."

"_Ach_, I know her--she will do it all the same."

"No, I don't think so. She does everything I ask. You see, she takes care of my house for me. She is not here in the same way that--that you and Baroness Elmreich are, and her interest is to stay here."

Frau von Treumann's bowed head went up with a jerk. "_Ach?_ She has found a place at last? She is your paid companion? Your housekeeper?"

"Yes, and she is goodness itself, and I don't believe she would be unkind and make mischief for worlds."

"_Ach so!_" said Frau von Treumann, "_ach so-o-o-o!_"--a long drawn out _so_ of complete comprehension. Her tears ceased as if by magic. She dried her eyes. Yes, of course the Penheim would hold her tongue if Miss Estcourt ordered her to do so. She had heard all about her efforts to find places, and she would probably be very careful not to lose this one. The poor Penheim. So she was actually working for wages. What a come-down for a Dettingen! And the Dettingens had always treated the Treumanns as though they belonged merely to the _kleine Adel_. Well, well, each one in turn. She was the dear friend, and the Penheim was the housekeeper. Well, well.

She sat up straight, smoothed her hair, and resumed her first manner of quiet dignity. "I am sorry that you should have witnessed my agitation,"

she said, with a faint smile. "I am not easily betrayed into exhibitions of feeling, but there are limits to one's endurance, there are certain things the bravest cannot bear."

"Yes," said Anna.

"And for a Treumann, social disgrace, any action that in the least soils our honour and makes us unable to hold up our heads, is worse than death."

"But I don't see any disgrace."

"No, no, there is none so long as facts are not distorted. It is quite simple--you need friends and I am willing to be your friend. That was how my son looked at it. He said '_Liebe Mama_, she evidently needs friends and sympathy--why should you hesitate to make yourself of use?

You must regard it as a good work.' You would like my son; his brother officers adore him."