THE MATTER OF A DOWRY
I waited in the library because I thought the Baron was coming back. When I realized he wasn't, I stepped out into the living room. The first thing I noticed was the smell of coal smoke. The second thing I noticed was that the Schloss was completely empty. All the lights were on, all the french doors stood open, all of the people seemed to be gone. A cool night wind blew through the house and carried the curious smell of coal smoke.
When I reached the edge of the terrace, I saw that everybody was crowded along the waterfront, which was illuminated by the blinding search lights of a small steamboat belching smoke and chugging slowly in a circle, just a few yards off the floating dock. The searchlight beams swept the misty water, the weeping willows, the people on the dock, the people on the Tea House terrace, the sailboat bobbing on its buoy, and other boats milling around out there -- the Waldsteins' motorboat, several rowboats, another motorboat with what looked like policemen....
I was walking down the steep grass hillside now, and I saw that the steamboat was official too, a limp flag, white naval uniforms.... A violent memory came bursting forward from my childhood but it hadn't been night, it had been high noon right in the basin of Northeast Harbor, and nobody had to tell me what it means when police boats and Coast Guard boats move in wider and wider circles, dragging lines through the water.
The people in the boats were calling to each other; the people on the shore watched in silence. I looked for Lili, then in the sweep of a searchlight saw that she was at the wheel of her motorboat, still wearing her party dress. One of the gardeners was lying on the forward transom, prodding a boat hook into the water. I heard somebody sobbing and then I saw that it was a short dark woman in a black dress who was leaning against Alfred's chest, and Alfred had his arms around her, and in the darkness it took me a moment to recognize Ma, the old nurse from the Spreewald, because I had never seen Ma without her huge lace bonnet. These two stood on the terrace of the Tea House, and the others were obviously keeping back a little.
"We were just going to bed when Alfred saw the lights," said Sigrid. She had put on an English trench coat and black riding boots.
"Do they know who it is?"
"One of the kitchen maids. Emma something. Been here several years. She's a relative of Ma's, from the same village. I think Ma got her the position."
"Does anybody know -"
"We just came down, all I've heard is they missed her when the dishes were being washed, now they tell us she's been crying for a week, threatening to drown herself."
"Do they know why?"
"I think that's what Ma is telling Alfred."
The dragging went on and on. We watched. The other servant girls were whispering among themselves. Lili's mother said: "Eduard, she can't stay in that motorboat all night in her evening dress! "
No reply. The Baron scowled.
The whole operation didn't make sense to me. If Emma was really drowned here, wouldn't the current have moved her toward the bridge by now, or even under the bridge into the Wannsee? I wanted to ask somebody.
"I don't know why this has to be done at night," the Baron suddenly exclaimed. "It is inconceivable that the police were called before I was notified!"
"They thought to save her, Eduard. They thought she might be swimming, trying to swim out there.... My dear, there's nothing we can do to help, why don't we go back to the house -"
"Inconceivable! "
There were too many people on the floating dock already, but I pushed my way to the end and shouted to Lili. The searchlights were pointed somewhere else, so I didn't get a good look at her until she brought her boat alongside. I asked the gardener to get out, replaced him, and pushed off again. Then I touched her arm; she was shivering. I took off my jacket and wrapped it around her.
"Why don't I put you ashore? You're freezing, you don't need to do this-"
"Don't tell me what to do! " she said, and I realized she was crying.
"Did you know this maid?"
"Of course I knew her. I know them all."
"Did you know what ... what her problem was?"
"Yes. The same problem as every woman. A man. Men are beasts, you know that?"
"Well, that's a very romantic thing to tell me tonight, when you just sent me in to talk your father - "
"I don't feel romantic now, I feel furious, I feel sad, I feel furious and sad, can't you see how I feel?"
"Not exactly. I can't see why you have to find her. I mean why not let the police - "
"SUPPOSE THEY DON'T FIND HER?" Lili screamed, so I gave up and pulled alongside the little steamer, conferred with the tired middle-aged officer in command, then steered our boat south toward the bridge, barely moving, going just as close as I could get to the various seawalls and landing stages that belonged to the medieval castles and the Spanish haciendas and the Florentine villas of bank presidents and steel barons and stock market speculators. The steamer had to stay farther out, but his searchlights illuminated the black water in front of us, the green slime on the pilings, the moored sailboats, the weeping willows....
"I'm sorry," said Lili. "It was the contrast between her fortune and mine. Perhaps I feel ashamed, or somehow guilty, although how can I help it? You know, in the War the servants put all their savings into German war bonds, and when we lost the War, those bonds were worthless, and you know what my father did? He paid them himself, with his own money, so they would not lose their savings. Now is he supposed to do that all over again? I don't think he has that much money!"
I waited to hear what all this had to do with Emma.
"I don't know how it is in America," said Lili. "In Germany, if a girl wants to get married, she must bring something. A dowry. Of course it depends on her position, but she must bring something. And since the War it is worse, not better, because so many men were killed that the men available have a wider choice. Too many women, not enough men. You understand?"
"Of course."
"All right, Emma found a man, she was lucky, she was not very pretty but she worked hard and this man - he is the second son of a farmer, also in the Spreewald somewhere - he will get a piece of the farm because the older brother was killed, and they were to be married next year, and Emma has worked here since she was sixteen, her family has no money at all, there are six children and the father is the mail carrier in the village....Well, Emma has saved every penny of her wages, I mean every penny, for her dowry - "
"Oh no!" Steering the boat, peering through the increasing mist, I understood.
"Oh yes! Last week Emma got a letter from the Sparkasse, the savings bank branch in Nikolassee, they were sorry but they had to close her account because it was too small for them to carry on their books, and they enclosed a money order, and Peter, the stamps on the letter were worth more than the money order! All her wages since she was sixteen!"
"And then what happened?"
"Yes. You can guess, can't you? Her young farmer is terribly sorry, but he cannot get married unless he can buy some animals, and it seems there is another girl, the daughter of another farmer.... Can you imagine how Emma feels, in our house, the way we live, and you are there all the time now.... Oh yes, they all know that. ... What's the matter?"
We were coming up on the bridge now, and as the searchlight beam touched the pile of driftwood caught against the right abutment I saw just what I expected to see, and from the commotion behind me I knew that the men on the steamer had seen it too, so I turned the boat around, pushed the throttle all the way down and roared away from the lights, away from the other boats, away from the island, planing bow-up toward open water and the first hint of sunrise.
PROLOGUE - THURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1922
I. HOW I GOT THERE
1. PARIS 1922
2. VERDUN 1916
3. IT'S STEALING MONEY, ISN'T IT
4. WHERE WERE YOU IN 1919?
5. RELIABLE TROOPS
6. AN ISLAND
7. BISMARCK FOUND THEM USEFUL
8. INTRODUCTIONS
9. THE LITTLE HOUSE
10. INDIAN CROSSES
11. ANOTHER PART OF TOWN
12. A VIEW OF THE GENDARMENMARKT
13. TWO FOR TEA
14. ON THE TOWN
15. A VIEW OF THE HAVEL
16. REIGEN
II. WHAT HAPPENED
17. THURSDAY, JUNE 15, 1922
18. MONDAY, JUNE 19, 1922
19. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 21, 1922
20. FRIDAY, JUNE 23, 1922
21. SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1922
22. WHAT HAPPENED?
III. THE WITCHES' SABBATH
23. SILENCE WITH VOICES
24. THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS
25. SAME SONGS, DIFFERENT SINGERS
26. THEY'RE ONLY GOING TO HIRE HIS VOICE
27. INFLATION WORKS IN DIFFERENT WAYS
28. SMALL CHANGE
29. WHY NOT PAINT LILI?
30. COLD WIND IN MAY
31. ROLLING THUNDER
32. WALDSTEIN'S VOICE
>33. THE MATTER OF A DOWRY
34. A RUSSIAN WORD AND A GERMAN WORD
35. THE MARCH ON BERLIN
36. A PIG LOSES MONEY ALL THE TIME
37. THE ARTISTS' BALL
IV. STRIKE TWELVE ZEROs
38. AMYTAL DREAMS
39. LETTERS
40. PROFESSOR JAFFA'S PROGNOSIS
41. THE OTHER SUBJECT
42. ROLLING HOME