The longer I stayed at the spa, the better I liked it. Not only did visitor numbers increase by the day; the place itself and the way life was lived there appealed to me immensely. I got to know the folk who were most fun, and I began to learn polite ways of conversing and how to pay compliments – things I’d not worried much about before. I was taken for a member of the nobility. People tended to address me as ‘Captain’, particularly since soldiers of fortune of the age I was then are seldom found in such places. So the wealthy fops formed not only acquaintanceships with me (and I with them) but actual friendships. As a result, all forms of entertainment such as gambling, scoffing and boozing took up most of my time and energy. They cost, of course, but I wasn’t unduly aware of those lovely ducats disappearing into thin air and remained confident that my purse was still fat with Olivier’s inheritance.
Meanwhile Herzbruder became weaker and weaker until he finally had to pay nature’s debt, after which the various quacks and druggists made themselves scarce, having lived off his poor body for as long as they could. He confirmed his last will and testament, making me sole heir to what was left of his late father’s legacy. I gave him a splendid funeral and sent his servants on their way with suits of mourning and some money each.
Saying goodbye to Herzbruder caused me enormous grief, particularly since he’d been the victim of a poisoning. I couldn’t change any of that, of course, but it did change me. I shunned all company, wishing only to pass my sad thoughts in solitary review. I went for long walks and crawled into the undergrowth, considering what a friend I’d lost and how unlikely I was ever to find his equal again. At the same time I made a range of conjectures as to the direction my life might take in future, though without reaching any definite conclusion. One minute I longed to be back among the fighting; then, all of a sudden, it came over me how in that neck of the woods the humblest peasant had it better than a colonel. Raiding parties never threatened, and even less could I imagine an entire army defacing a landscape where every farmhouse was in peak condition, as in time of peace, and every cowshed bulging with cattle. Down in the flat, where the war raged, not so much as a dog or cat would ever show itself in the village square.
And as I squatted in my thicket, delighting in the beautiful birdsong and imagining how, when darkness falls, the nightingale casts a spell of silence over the other birds, urging them to listen, either in shame or for fear of robbing his song of some of its wonder, over on the opposite bank a lovely young peasant girl came down to the water’s edge. In her simple dress, she moved me more than a stately demoiselle could ever have done. From her head she took down a basket containing a ball of fresh butter, which she was on her way to sell in the spa market. Standing the butter in the water to cool, anxious not to have it melt in the heat, she sat down in the grass, laid her veil and her hat beside her, and wiped the perspiration from her face – in the process giving me a better view of her and enabling me to feast my eyes on the sight. Never in my life, I thought, had I seen a more beautiful human being. Her physical proportions were perfection, it seemed to me, her arms and hands as white as snow, her features fresh and charming. Her dark eyes threw fiery, unwittingly inviting glances. As she was packing up her butter to go, I called to her across the water, ‘Dear girl, dear girl, your lovely hands may have cooled the butter in the stream but your clear, sharp eyes have pierced my heart and set it on fire!’ As soon as she saw me and heard my voice, she ran off without a word, leaving me with the daft fancies that haunt any young man whom love’s arrow has just struck.
The deep desire to be warmed once again by the rays of that sun made me cancel my self-imposed exile and pay no more heed to the nightingale’s song than to a wolf’s howling. I too trotted off, back to the town, sending my servant on ahead to buttonhole the girl and keep bargaining with her until I turned up. He played his part and I, arriving on the scene, played mine. However, I encountered a stoniness of heart and iciness of manner that I’d never thought to find in a country lass – which of course made me want her even more. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in such a pickle, and I could see the girl wouldn’t be an easy lay.
What I needed just then was either a sworn enemy or a wise friend – an enemy to direct my thoughts at, taking my mind off this crazy infatuation, or a friend who’d talk some sense into me and warn me off this stupid course. Unfortunately, I had neither. I had only money, which blinded me, my already blind lusts, which led me astray because I’d let them off the leash, and my boundless depravity, which invariably got me into trouble. What an idiot I was! I should have taken our outfits that day as boding no good: clearly, luck was not about to smile on us. When we’d first set eyes on each other, we’d both been wearing mourning – I because my Herzbruder had just died, she since she’d recently lost her parents. How could our courtship ever have turned out well? I’d been entangled in my own foolishness, blind as a bat and knowing no better (like the infant Cupid), and now, seeing no other way of satisfying my bestial lusts, I made up my mind to wed her. ‘Look,’ I thought, ‘you’re of simple farming stock yourself. You’re never going to live in a castle. And this is a fine part of the world; unlike other places, all through this horrible war it’s known only peace and prosperity. Plus you’ve got the money to buy the finest farm in the neighbourhood. And to cap it all you want to marry this honest peasant maid and settle down to a quiet life amid the easy bustle of peasant business. Where could you find a nicer place to live than right here, in this spa? With visitors to the town coming and going, your social setting will change every six weeks or so; you’ll be cushioned by a comforting image of the planet rolling from one century to the next.’ Many thousands of such thoughts passed through my head until at last I popped the question and (not without effort, mind you) received a ‘yes’.