Towards Morning | Page 3

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 he had run away out of a terrible battle. He was amazed that
everything in the street was just as usual. He looked at a little boy in his
blue overall, his satchel strapped to his shoulders like a knapsack so
grave and earnest and anxious. He looked at the big infantry soldier
coming along with his clumsy and effective swagger and he felt that he
saw them for the. first time. He was amazed that he had never realised
them before. They were stages in one development and the first stage of
all was the sound of a woman crying. They meant fear and remorse and
pain*
He saw how terrible they were.
He looked up at the window in the top storey of the big house.
"It wasn't like her to cry like that she never cried like that before."
Then he remembered how late he was. He walked fast but with dignity
till he came to a side street and then he began to run.
II
He was not used to it. His lungs ached and his knees shook under him.

And he was ashamed. He felt red with shame right to his very soul. He
knew that Gross-herzogliche Staatsbeamten never ran. Nor were they
ever late. They were always at their post, weaving their little pattern
into the vast national design with absolute efficiency and dignity,
without haste or disorder. Now he was late and running and running
absurdly a sort of shambling trot, his face very red, his glasses jogging
on the bridge of his nose.
A vague, unhappy anger ran through his shame. He did not know with
whom or with what he was angry. It had something to do with Clarchen
and that terrible crying. Either she shouldn't have had to cry like that or
he shouldn't have had to run. There was something wrong about it all. It
did not belong to the neat scheme of his life. It was as though a maniac
had burst into his office at the Stadtamt and thrown all his papers out of
the window. He wanted to cry, too. The tears made the rims of his eyes
redtears of pity and worry and sheer physical weariness.
A man came out of a house at the corner of the street. He was tall and
broad with consciously squared shoulders and a strong slow step. He
seemed to be leading an invisible procession and to be gravely not
unworthily aware of his responsibility.
The Herr Amtschreiber stopped running. He choked back his gasping
breath and set his glasses straight. It was as if he had suddenly
remembered his own little bit of a procession and was trying to call it to
order. Three paces away he swept off his hat and carried it
reverentially.
The Geheimrat Kohler blinked at him, hesitated and finally stopped.
Actually. Though he had married Clarchen's sister the Herr
Amtschreiber had not expected more than a nod had perhaps not
wanted more. For he was dreadfully late. Yet he was glad, too. He
wished some of his colleagues could see the Geheimrat patting him on
the shoulder.
"Na, mein Lieber, how goes it? My wife asked me to enquire. She
would have called herself, but you know how it is. She is to have
audience with the Grand Duchess this afternoon. With regard to the

Frauen Verein, you know. Still she was very anxious. The Frau
Gemahlin is doing well, eh?"
The Herr Amtschreiber made a little bow.
"It's very kind of you please thank the Frau Geheimratin. I don't know I
I am rather worried terribly worried." The rising tears in his heart
almost welled over, "When I left her she was crying not just crying
groaning. It was awful. I I don't know what to do. It's intolerable that
any one should have to suffer like that. I can't believe that it's right. I
can't believe that every one has to suffer."
Herr Kohler burst out laughing. He had a hard, rasping voice which he
retained from his Garde- Lieutenant days in Berlin.
"My dear fellow you're too newly married, that's what's the matter.
Women have to go through with it. It's their duty. They were made for
it. Mustn't make a fuss. Mustn't encourage them to make a fuss. We
can't do with parasites in this country. Every one to his duty. We fight
they bear children. There's too much of the old German
Sentimentalitates Dusel left. Must be rooted out, eh, Felde?"
The Herr Amtschreiber nodded