The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIII, Issue 28, 13 July 1905, Page 23

The Storyteller

MaRGA'S DRESbMAKfciR

I. We were strolling in one of the suburbs' of Vienna. ' Look,' exclaimed my friend Marga. ' Here 'comes my dressmaker— <a nice little body, is she not ? ' A refined-looking, neatly-dressed woman passed us, with a smile and a graceful bow. She was walking xapidly, and a small boy followed her carrying a large wide box.. ' She has crowds 1 of fashionable customers,' added my friend ; ' and I wonder how sne can retain them all without extra help. But she is positively indefatigable. Her, husband is a " Beamter'"— that is, you know, in the State service, with a good salary.' ' Ttien he ougnt to be ashamed of him&elf ! ' I said. ' Fancy making his wife work like that ! ' ... ' ' You wrong him,' returned my friend ; ' and here is where my sjtory comes in. I must tell you why I am so interested in her. I went one day to see if she could manage to finish a theatre bodice of mine earlier than we had arranged ; and, on entering, found the room occupiedi by a huge blonde gentleman, lounging about m t/he most nonchalant manner, and puffing a cigarette. He removed the latter on seeing me, but his face expressed a certain bewilderment, 'Is Madam Strell at home ?' I asked, somewhat puzzled. ''' Certainly, Madam," he replied ; and called " Gretta ! Gretta ! " with true marital authority. ' A startled, anxious face looked out from an inner door for a mormclnt, and Gretta's voice, said : ' " Please wait one moment : I am comting." ' In iai short time she appeared, came .forward, and to my surprise s|hook hands with me. ' " This is my husband," she said, introducing him formally. ' She then began to chat ; behaving in general like a lady who was receiving a visit from one of her acquaintances. 'My woman's instinct kept me on the alert, and I carefully followed 'her lead. 1 i" Do left meVjhow you the new hat Rainnuid bought for me," she said at last, leading the way to an inner room. ' The Beamter profited of the move fo make an elegant bow and take himself off. I then turned to my companion with a face that very probably represented a point of interrogation— like yours just now.' And Marga broke off with a laugh. ' Oh, do go on! ' I said. "I apk'iiowledge lam curious.' ' Well,' continued Marga, ' she thanked me oatrnestly for not alluding to the dress. " The truth is," she sa.id, " niy husband is vell-to-do^-a Beamter, in fact— and he seen no necessity for tiy keeping up my trade. Madam will understand," however, that there are many people I canjjot see my w<a.y to retuse— particularly friends who patronised me before my marriage, and ha\e got so used to me they do not like to employ. a stranger." (I was not one of these, but I didmot say so ) " I dia n.(*t expect Madam to-day," she went on volubly, "asit is a holiday, and Raimund would be at home. Of course it is wrong to have secrets from one's husband, but men are sometimes so unreasonable— and there a.reso many things wanted in a house Why should I be idle, Madam ? I am happy when I vv ork ; and my earnings are my own, are they not "> ' ' " Of course," I sand, recalling all my woman's independence theories. '"You ai c quite right to work, and it is surely more praiseworthy than to pass your free time in dossing and visitung like so many other Beamters' wives. But perhaps your husband finds you overdo it and neglect your health ? " ' " O;h, no ' " she said, with a pleasant laugh. ITe doesn't mind ray stitching, and only iokes at my vanity, for he thinks it is mostly for myself I take such pains.' * She then opened the ottoman on which we had 'been seated, and drew from among a pile of other materials the half-sewn bodice which had been the cause of my unannounced visit, at the same time resuming her professional manner,, which she did not again lay aside ' ' Raimiund will peep into that box one day? I declared. ' No,' replied Marga. ' ihlc probably has no idea that it. opens.' ' All the same, she cannot go Jong undiscovered,' T insisted. ' Spite her plannings and combinings, he will come home unexpectedly some day and find her pinning linings on you or me '

' What ? ' exclaimed my f riea'd. " So you will pai>ronise her, too ? Merely for the pleasure of outwitting, a mau, I feel sure.' 'No,' I said. ' Your dresses are well made. Ido not see why I oannot also help an industrious little woman who wishes to nave a small income of heir own,, instead of being a parasite on her husband.' ' Very true,' answered Marga. ' That Is just how I felt. But, do you know, if it had been anybody else that this good, quiet creature, I should not like to continue a customer.' 1 Quite naturally,' I assented. ' 13i*t hard work'can ha\e nothing wrong in itself. It is a refutation of any unworthy motive. Besides, the face of that woman does not allow of sai^nciom.' ' How much you manage to see in one glimpse ! ' she laughed. 'My story is not lost, I see.' ' Give me her, address,' I said. ' I admire her pluck or industry, and I am sure there is some serious reason at the boUt'omi of it. But I §hall not look her up at her own place,, for 'I do not care to encounter the blonde lion. Are you sure he does not profit by herf busy fingers ? ' 'I think not. I was curious enough to make inquiries, and my husbland tells me he is quite a model clerk.' ' All the same, he can't be nice,' I maintained ; ' otherwise his wife -would not need to have this secret from him. She must want for money.' 11. It was about a year later that Marga and I happened to 'be again together, driving in the Prater, when she called my attention to a tall, well-dressed man walking toward i.s. ' That's Madam Strell's husband,' she said. ' As you see, he won't salute me; although he never failed to lift ihi-> hat most correctly when we us'eid to meet after our first introduction. He looks sourly on those who patronise his wife and enable her to follow her trade, 1 suppose.' "So he knows about it '' I exclaimed. ' I often wanted to ask you about her. Are you still satisfied with her work ? ' ' Well, no,' said Marga. ' I am on the lookout for another dressmaker. She has been very unpunctual and careless of late.' ' Poor thing ' She looks so pale and tired ! ' I said ' She must work harder than e\er, now that there is no longer any concealment ' ' Yes ;; she tola me her husband saw how difficult it was to maike boMi ends meet, and does not hinder her ' 1 I am, sorry to hear it.' I s|aid ; ' for 1 think she is working herself lo death.' ' Let us drive there,' proposed Marga, with a sud«den impulse. 1 She has a promenade costume of mine in hands for o\er a month. Would it bore you ? ' 1 Not at all,' I answered. ' Let us go by all means! although I ha\e never been to see her about my clothes 1 Indeed, till lately there was no need to do so. as she used to be exactness itself.' 1 Lnfortunately, it is not,'__said Marga ; ' though she works late and early, and he has been promoted.' We waited for some moments after Marga had knocked at a small door on the thiu'd storey. This ha|d a tiny card ipinned on the top panel, "bearing ' Miafdam Strell, Dressmaker,' in her own handwriting. My heart sank at the wan face of The little woman wh 0 opened IJto door for us. I remembered her so brisk and pleasanl—a different being. She led us into the rd*6m where ;-be had eudently been at work, and began to apologise for delay "1 see you have a great many things in hand,' I said ' You should not accept more than yo« can do. You look worn out Gi\e yourself a rest.'" ' Oh, no, Madam ' ' she replied, with a smile. ' I am no,t tired, and I can be happy only when I work. It is important, too. that I should earn ' 1 But you will make yourself ill,' protested Marga ITt ou are not reasonable. Don't you see that if you break down you will be obliged to gue u,p your customers 7 ' ' That is- what I fear,' she said, with a startled look from Marga to me. ' But what can Ido ? ' She sank into a chair and clasped her hands. 1 You won't withdraw your custom from me,' she murmured, ' when I tell you how—' All at once she turned deadly pale and closed her ciye> Ma»rga and I looked at each other for a moment in utter dismay. I then stooped down and took "the cold hands in mine, while Marga rang violently. ' Shall I get you a glass of wine ' I asked, as a small stubmadchon appeared. ' Here are salts. Only keep quiet and tell us wriat to do.'

• Here is the cordial,' said the little maid, taking a bottle from the mantelpiece. ' She'll be all right when site takes it.' And so it proved. •' You are overwrought,' said Marga gently t as the woman sat up, apparently revived, and dismissed the ma,i'd with a friendly smile. ' Have you consulted a doctor? For I see you are subject to such attacks.' ' No— >q?uite seldom,' she answered evasively. 'It ia not worth speaking of, and work has nothing to do with it. But— l have been in great trouble. My brother—' Here she broke down and sobbed despairingly. ' O God ! my own brother ! my only friend ! We loved each other so— from childhood. Aiid he had nobody but me. Since I married, nothing went well with him. I tried" to help him— but he was so unhappy ! And now— he is gone from me forever. j 'Is it; long sdnce you have lost him ? ' I asked-com-passionately. ' Some months/ she murmured in a low \oice. ' I lost heart— ialthougn I promised hun not to fret. I should work more than ever for the chfld's he left me a little girl to look after. I cannot bring her here — my husband would not like it — and I cannot bear to send her to an orphan asylum. I have found a home for her with nice people — tout it is a struggle.' ' And your health is failing- You must bying her here ! ' I safcl indignantly. ' Your husband cannot ob<ject when he sees how you are wearing yourself out in order to pay for her elsewhere.' ' Oh, no ! ' she said quietly. ' I do not ask to bring her nere ; and— ltaimund is not fond of chilchen.' ' Is the child's motner dead, too 9 ' asked Marga. ' ffis wife ? ' For the first time I saw the pretty, patient face darken with anger. ' Ah, no ! She is ali\e, but she has abandoned the child. And ho lo\ed her so ' But she it was who drove him — to death. My poor, poor brother ' lie was so good, 'so religious as a child. lie would not hint a living thing or wrong a soul. And so gay, so cheerful always. Everybody loved him.' Her tears welled forth afresh, and Marga — tenderhearted Marga— sat down by her side and drew her head on to her breast. ' Cheer up ! ' she said. ' The child will not be neglected, and who knows ? Ilerr Strell may consent to adopt it when it is a little older. Do not wotry yourself any more just now. We shall all 'try to help you, and God will reward your sisteily demotion.' We left her calm and comforted, if not consoled. "U)id I not say there was some noble sacrifice at the bottom of her untiring industry *> ' I said as we drove away. ' Now do you know what 1 propose "' She must have rest ; and the % ilia at Baden is empty, for we go to Manonbad next week. She could go there with the child till we return in a month or so. My old Martha Mill feed her and nurse her and pot her, if I only gi\e a hint.' ' Splendid ' ' cried Marga ' Thai v ouhl set her up. Write to her at once about it ' I did so, but my offer was declined— \ cry gratefully, of course, but still declines. ' I do not feel instilled in accepting Madam's Kind offer,' wrote Frau Stiell , [ and shall explain my reasons on the first occasion when I shall ha\c the honor of meeting Madam.' But it seemed to me that she avoided this explanation, and I took care not to force her confidence ' She speaks and acts as if there were some disgrace attaching to the child,' said Marga. ' And she never mentioned its name, which wooild ho liar own maiden one, bojo. Poor thing ' Just think of her toiling and moiling day and night probaiMy >to proude luxuries for that other woman And all for love of a brother. But I must say I understand her husband's feeling aggrieved.' 1 Nonsense ' He is a conceited, selfish brute ' I declared. ' SurcJv no fit mate for that little goiaenhearted wife of his. If ac were worth his salt, he would hare divided her cares and been a solace, not a hindrance. 1 ' True,' said Marga. ' But why fall upon him thus 9 His role in the affair is negative.' 1 And that is iust what I reproach him with,' I insisted, as the carriage drew up before Manra's door. ' I have a perfect spite against the man. A Christian's role in life is never negative.' 111. Life in Vienna is a selfish, absorbing whirl. True, it is "pretty much the same in other capitals ; but lam trying to find an excuse for the fact tnat. amid a thousand cares and pursuits, I lost sight of Marga's dress-

maker for a considerable time. We had continued lo employ her (although she spoiled our gowns, which we often gpt remade or altered without her knowledge; and in spite of her extravagant prices) until she herfeelf ceased) working, owing to the 'death of the child. Next time I saw her it was on a hospitajl bed in the Cancer Ward. She had writften to Marg,a, asking her to oome. ' I hope you 'do not mind my having come too,' (I said, as'we approached the bed. 'l am truly sorry to finS you here. Let us hope it won't be for long.' ' Oh, no ! ib won't be for long,' she said. • But the next move is to the grave,, and to the better life Le>,ond it. I want to ask a last favor of you, Madam' — turning to M'arga.. 1 moved away quickly, but she called me back. ' Don't go, please,' she said, with her old, timid smile. ' '1 want to ask your pardon, tooj for/ having deceit ed you. My brother is not dead.' Iter tears began to flow, and Marga tried to soothe her. ' Only tell us whjat we can do for you,' she said. ' Bring Albert to see me,' she sobbed. 'He is in prison, but if Herr B ' (naming Marga's husband) 1 would speak a word, surely they would let him come to say good-bye. He knows I am dying, poor fellow, and he wants to come. The warders would be with him, of course ; nor would he try to escape, for his life is ended too, Ah, God ! what has he to look forward to, now I am gone ? ' My eyes were wet 'and so were Marga's. 1 You must itell me his flame,' she said,; \ if T a(m to procure your wish. I promise you 1 will do my*best.' llt is Albert M ,' said the invalid, in a low \oice, ipronouncing the name of a bank defrauder with which all Austria had lung some years before. "She made him tajke the mioney, and he gjot twenty years. She escaped to spend it and he ga\e himself up. Poor boy ' ' Yes, we remembered. A sensational 'drama that thrilled us at the time. ' Be assured,' saift Mar*ga, ' that\we shall try. to obta.in his, liberty under escort for a couple of hours. But do not count on it too much. Prison regulations may stand in the way.' ' Does your husband come regularly to see you ? . I afAed { ' Well, no, Madam. lie knows this long time that I am incurable,' was the answer ; which seemed to her — I oor wife ii — a natural explanation. We tried to cru or her by speaking; with compassion of the unhappy convict, declaring that we had never in o'ir hearts found him so deserving of blame ; it was dear he had been led away, and so fourth. She listened, clasping her rosary, while the tears coursed down her pale cheeks. But her face lit up with a smile of welcome as the .Sister in charge came near. ' .Sister,' she said, ' I think I am not £oing to wait frr tl'C other side to ha^se a taste of happiness, after al l It is possible tnat I shall see my brother ; but if not— God's Mill be done ' ' Marca and I paused outride the door of the ward. 'To think of it ' ' she murmured ' Such heroism, srcli do.votoduess ' These "things do exist among us ; and fbr the sake of this one soul, perhaps, are many of the cowardly and selfish spared.' ' I thank (rod,' was my reply, ' for the lively faith in a better land that sustained her in her weary task all these years.. Marga lost not a moment in endeavoring to compass the invalid's wish; but there were ine\it<able delays, and she died— this humble heroine of sisterly devotion — with her last earthly wish unfulfilled. We saw the husband at the funeral, in coldly correct mourning. Some months later we saw him again, apparently well pleased with himself and with a sitout, smiling young woman on his arm. Evidently he wished to iniipresis her with his hic;h connections ; for, as he caught sight of the Inerv, he actually turned out of his way to accomplish an elaborate salute. But M'argja sat straight a,nd p^e him a haughty stare. ' You are- thinking of that poor little woman who was his wife ' ' I said, with a sigh. ' Yes,' replied Marga. ' T cannot excuse him. While the was hapipy and healthy, he liked her well enough. When trouble fell on her he drew off. Had he been a man she nee-d never have fretted and worked herself to death ' ' You saiid once his role was negative,' I reminded her. 'As for me, 1 prefer the brother, convict as he is, who sobbed in remorse over her coffin, to the heartless husbtyid ' And Martha acknowledged that she .agreed with me.— ' Aye Maria.'