MARS
509
As
for Johanna, his wife, after such moments of weakness she
would be tense for days. Not that she would rage at him, or shame
him in front of the servants; but her whole soul would be filled
with a stillness which was frightening because the streaks of violence
that usually flickered harmlessly over the surface of her being now
stood out starkly congealed like veins in watered stone. She would
pick up a badly cleaned pot as if to smash it, but at once carefully
set it down, or pull the dog's ears till it whined with pain, but im–
mediately blow on its muzzle and move away, dismissing it with a
contemptuous slap on the behind.
She liked to speak scornfully of those who tolerated the enemy
in their own country; but when a new army unit arrived, a secret
unrest drove her to the town hall where the billets were being as–
signed and where stacked bayonets pointed toward heaven like iron
sheaves. Seemingly unconcerned, she would pay a tax or go to the
labor office and hire an extra hand for the constantly expanding
farm. At the time of these events the inn had been assigned officers'
horses for the first time; the men were to be lodged in the guest
rooms and served their meals in a little parlor which was thus singled
out to be the town's unofficial officers' casino.
Days before Johanna had had the guest rooms prepared. Know–
ing what would please the expected occupants, she took down with
her own hands the war-like pictures of Blucher crossing the Rhine
at Caub and of the execution of Schill's officers; in their place she
had hung shaving mirrors between the windows, refilled the inevitable
inkwells, and carefully covered the old-fashioned beds because she
knew the officers would throw themselves upon them without re–
moving their spurred boots.
Whereas the arrangement in the bedrooms was plain and prac–
tical-though actually it was for the rooms' protection rather than
for the convenience of the guests-the little parlor had remained
in a condition apt to deceive the expected visitors as to the true atti–
tude of their hosts or at least to encourage vague suspicions. Artificial
vine wreaths and glass grapes still dangled from the ceiling and
colored, now dusty, paper rosettes were pinned to the curtains-sur–
vivals of the recent vintage festival, modestly celebrated despite the
universal poverty, as a compensation for the canceled Carnival-but
it was not this gay disguise that made the officers' casino so odd.
