"Yes, my dear Meinhardis, now that is a horrible thing." The old colonel shakes the ash off his fat cigar by his little fingers. He leans back and looks at his counterpart. Meinhardis also puffs thick clouds of smoke, he blinks, and looks out of the window. He does not like to look in the face of his superior who shouldn't notice how moody Meinhardis is. It itself was quite friendly that the colonel had summoned him to inform him personally about his transfer.
"This Mühlberg is an awful garrison," the colonel continues. "The wastepaper basket of the whole German army, so to say. They're all criminals, and now they want a decent person to straighten out the vermins. Their choice there, at the green table, fell on you, of all people. Great honour, of course, and advancement and bigger salary. But beautiful? Beautiful is different."
Meinhardis makes a movement that means something like, orders are orders. And Colonel von Merkel speaks further,
"The lads supposed to have played up. They do only stupid things. Whenever somebody has done something wrong, they send him to the border—old story. Bad luck, old exotic, my heartfelt condolences. But you'll show the gang what a rake is."
Meinhardis feels he's dismissed, he rises,
"Thank you very much, Mr. Colonel, it was very kind of Mr. Colonel . . . These things happen; it could have been even worse. I'll go home and tell my wife . . . Women, for them that's just . . . Well, I don't want to become soft! I recommend myself, Mr. Colonel!"
His spurs clink together. He holds the cap in his left hand, the older one grabs his right one and shakes it vigorously.
"Well, chin up, Meinhardis! It'll be all right!"
Outside, Meinhardis buckle in his sabre, and as he sees himself accidentally in the mirror, he adjusts his collar by his hand. Now he will soon no longer wear a red collar. The uniform is off now. Now comes another. Light blue and white. Ridiculous. White collars always get dirty, and walk around in light blue is awful when one is used to do duty and ride in dark green. Riding in light blue, grotesque, he thinks moodily. The uniform is much more expensive than the old one. the move. Poor Käte! He buys a bunch of daisies and cornflowers from the flower woman— mother likes to have them—look so much like from Pöchlin.
Frau Käte calmly accepted this expected transfer, as she did everything that could not be changed. She knew well what it meant to move to that town, that had been on enemy territory only few years ago. Vaguely, she also had the feeling that she was not heading for happy time. But she didn't want to make her husband's heart heavier than necessarily. She had time still. He would go ahead and look for home. And then such a strange calm had now come over her. She wasn't completely there any more. She went to church even more often than she had always done, she went alone and returned every time with a deeply satisfied expression. Her eyes were looking inward, towards a goal invisible to everybody. It made her kind, patient and almost serene. With a matter of fact, she set about liquidating the house. Little Lela went silently like a shadow behind her.
Then came the last day. Thoughtfully, Frau Käte wandered from room to room. She stopped for a long time in front of the window where Ali's desk had stood. Then Lela saw her take her hat and gloves, also some flowers she had bought in the morning. "Mum, shall I go with you to Ali's?" asked Lela who was aware what time it was, but Frau Käte bent down and looked the child in the eye. For the first time she kept the deeply sad mouth, the astonished suffering look, without any attempt to give the child a tender smile.
Seriously, she said,
"No, Lela. Today I must go all alone, I must bid Ali goodbye; now Ali remains here alone, all alone. Without me."
Lela followed her to the garden door and saw Mother striding quickly and determinedly up the street, like somebody who knows they are expected.
Lela could no longer play today. She took Flink by the collar and put his head on her lap. A strange sad happiness rose inside of her. Today Mother had spoken to her as if Lela were an adult; it was a secret, and Lela would not tell anyone in the world.