Irretrievable by Theodor Fontane Page A

oh, so long ago, with Helmut …. It was almost like the lighthouse from which Captain Brödstedt brought home his girl from Bornholm. Yes, it certainly was a lighthouse for me and for you, a real beacon for life and, I hope, till death.”

10
    The crossing was smooth and it was not yet nine o’clock in the evening when the King Christian turned into Copenhagen harbour between Nyholm and Tolboden. Holk was standing on deck enjoying the magnificent scene; overhead, the stars were twinkling almost as brightly as in winter, and the harbour lights were reflected beside them on the shimmering surface of the water. Shipping agents and harbour officials pushed forward, the coachmen raised their whips and waited to be beckoned. However, Holk preferred to walk the few hundred yards to Dronningens-Tværgade, and so, rejecting all offers of service, he merely asked the chief steward to send his luggage as soon as possible to Frau Hansen’s. Then he went off along the quayside as far as St. Anne’s Square, where he turned off towards Dronningens-Tværgade in which stood his landlady’s two-storeyed house immediately on the left-hand side of the street. In a few minutes he came in sight of his lodging and he was delighted to see how clean and attractive it all looked. The first floor, where his two rooms were, was already lit up and the sash-windows open to let in the fresh air. “And I bet there’s a fire as well. The perfect landlady.” And with this reflection, he crossed the street and knocked on the door, not too loudly and not too softly. The door was opened at once by Frau Hansen, a widow of close on fifty, still handsome, who greeted the count with great cordiality and said how pleased she was to see him again so soon, after not having expected him again until the New Year at the earliest. “Fancy Baron Bille catching measles! But such is life and it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.”
    As she was speaking, the widow had retreated into the hall to show the count up to his room. He followed her but at the foot of the stairs he stopped for a moment, with every justification in view of the sight that met his eyes. The back of the rather narrow hall lay almost in darkness but at the far end a door stood open, presumably leading to the kitchen, and in the light shining from it into the hall, a young woman was standing, perhaps in order to see but more probably in order to be seen. Holk, a trifle embarrassed, said: “Is that your daughter? I have already heard of her and was told that she had not sailed with her husband this time.” Frau Hansen replied affirmatively but briefly, presumably not wanting to spoil the effect of the tableau by a lengthier explanation.
    In his room upstairs, thickly carpeted and richly, though not extravagantly, adorned with vases and other orientalia , everything was as Holk had imagined: lamps were lit, a fire blazed in the hearth, and there was fruit on the sofa-table, no doubt rather to enhance the still-life effect than to be eaten. Beside the fruit-dish lay the visiting cards of Baron Pentz and Baron Erichsen who had called an hour ago to ask after the count. “They would be back.”
    At this moment voices were heard in the hall. “That will be my things,” said Holk and, still preoccupied by the vision of the young woman below, was half expecting her to appear together with his luggage. But instead in came the two barons. Holk greeted them both, Pentz cordially and jovially, Erichsen formally and with some reserve. Frau Hansen made as if to go, stopping merely to ask what the count would like for his supper. Holk was about to reply when Pentz interrupted: “Dear Frau Hansen, for this evening Count Holk desires nothing further than to come with us to Vincent’s. You must allow us to drag him from you straightaway, from you and your lovely lady daughter. And that reminds me, is there any news of Captain Hansen,