first convincing proof of your social capabilities.”
“Quite funny that,” said Lieutenant Krafft cautiously.
“You’ll be finding plenty of other things to amuse you here before you're through, you can be sure of that. Officially the hand-kissing is quite optional, but in Major Frey's eyes it is a natural obligation. Particularly where the Major's wife is concerned—she was a von Bendler-Trebitz, you know. Right, then—the charming lady will extend her tiny hand towards you. You grasp it, but without exercising undue pressure. Then you bend over it, Krafft, and for God's sake, and the Major's, doesn’t make the mistake of drawing this charming tiny hand towards you as if you owned it, this would be looked upon as little short of an attempt at rape. You bend over it then and keep yourself at a distance of at least three feet from the lady. You then click your heels and without pursing the lips or even wetting them, sketch out a hand kiss. Somewhere between a quarter and an eighth of an inch is regarded as the correct distance. Now have you got that, my dear fellow try it out today? For sooner or later you'll have to teach it to your cadets in the etiquette class, it’s all part of the curriculum, you know.”
“I’m afraid you're right,” said Lieutenant Krafft. “We’ll be having a lot of fun together.”
“I never cease to admire you, Felicitas,” said Major Frey to his wife. “It’s really fabulous the way you manage to arrange everything,”
Frau Frey lowered her eyes modestly. “Oh, it's really nothing,” she demurred.
This was true—it really wasn't very much. The table was laid, the wine stood ready, all just as usual, and, as usual, none of these preparations were the work of Frau Frey, but of her niece, as the Major knew perfectly well.
This niece, a poor relation who looked like one and on whom Frau Frey had graciously taken pity, worked in the Frey household as a servant. She was a capable, willing, undemanding sort of girl, and although Frau Frey didn't actually pay her any wages she hoped to find a husband for her, an officer, in due course.
“What sort of man is this Lieutenant Krafft?” asked the Major's wife.
Frey didn't quite know the answer to this, though this didn't prevent him from telling her. Average,” he said. “Possibly a little above the average. We'll manage to make something of him. Sooner or later everyone comes to heel.”
“Married?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“I’ll take a closer look at him,” said Frau Felicitas.
The Major nodded meekly. He knew what that meant. She would take a closer look at this fellow Krafft to see if he would do for their niece, Barbara Bendler-Trebitz.
“Barbara!” cried Frau Felicitas peremptorily, and their niece appeared at once.
She had a round, friendly, innocent moon face with shy eyes. “Here I am,” she said agreeably in a soft chirpy voice.
“For goodness' sake, take that apron off before the gentlemen arrive. You should take more trouble with your appearance, child. Wear a white apron. And try and move gracefully.”
“Yes, of course,” said Barbara, and disappeared.
The Major watched her go with a sad shake of his head, which wasn't intended as any reproach to his wife. This would have been unthinkable, for he had nothing but gratitude and respect for her. She came from a really high-class family and was the owner of a sizeable property in Silesia, which was being run at the moment by an impoverished relative who was exempt from war service.
Frey had in fact a great deal to thank his wife for. For instance it was positively touching the way she helped him in his career. No commanding officer could have had a more devoted wife. And then again, there was the loving care with which she had furnished this house: Wildlingen-am-Main, Marktplatz 7. An old, elegant, romantic building in the Franconian style, solid and sound, and yet at the same time cozy and with a charm all its own, it might have been built specially for Felicitas Frey, née Blender-Trebitz.
“This girl Barbara,” the Major ventured to remark. “She’s a nice girl, but remarkably uncommunicative, don't you find?” “She’ll make a good wife and mother.”
“Oh yes, of course, of course,” admitted the Major. “But she ought to dress with a little more style. I mean her figure really isn't bad at all—quite the contrary, in fact.”
“Archibald,” said the Major's wife, “you don't mean to say you've been eyeing the girl?”
“Not intentionally of course,” the Major reassured her. “But after all she is running around under my nose all day long. Besides, I'm thinking of her future too, and if I'm to be quite frank, I think Captain Ratshelm would be preferable to Lieutenant Krafft.”
“Don’t you worry your head about that,” said Felicitas Frey. “This is a woman's business. If Krafft turns out to be a man of the world with really decent manners, why shouldn't we bring him into our own little inner circle?”
“I’m afraid, though, that this fellow Krafft isn't really a man of particularly fine feelings. He's more Captain Feders's type.”
“That wouldn't do,” said the Major's wife. “And if that's so, then obviously you can't have the two together in the same section, the one as tactics instructor and the other as section officer. Anyway Captain Feders hasn't got anything to give himself airs about with his wife leading that sort of life. It's disgraceful, really disgraceful. You can't have that sort of thing in an officers' training school. But we'll have to discuss that later. We mustn't try and take on too much at once. First of all I'll take a good look at this man Krafft.”
“Welcome, welcome to my humble hearth!” cried Major Frey. “So glad you could come. Come in, gentlemen. Take your coats off. Make yourselves at home.”
The Major was wearing a simple field tunic, which both conveyed an impression of sterling worth and at the same time demonstrated the extent to which he felt at ease. His Knight's Cross with oak leaves flashed brilliantly even in the lighting of the hall, and his face was beaming with good-will.
Feders and Krafft took off their things and Krafft was introduced to the Major's niece. He shook a hot, damp hand and, smiling pleasantly, looked into a face paralyzed with embarrassment. Feders made a jovial remark or two and the girl ran off giggling.
“Captain Ratshelm was just ahead of you, gentlemen, so that now the party is complete. Do come in. My wife is most anxious to get to know you, my dear Krafft.”
“The feeling is mutual,” declared Feders, noticing with delight that at this the Major looked slightly annoyed and Lieutenant Krafft extremely embarrassed. An amusing evening seemed to lie ahead.
The Major piloted the two gentlemen into the drawing-room, where Captain Ratshelm stood gesticulating animatedly to the Major's charming wife Felicitas Frey née Blender-Trebitz.
“Right, in you go!” whispered Feders, pushing Krafft forward.
The Major's wife smiled graciously at Lieutenant Krafft and immediately held out her
