Love Conquers War

by Barbara Cartland

  To her extreme relief after a knock on the door the chambermaid proved to be a young apple-cheeked Bavarian girl who could not have been much older than herself.

  “You rang, gnädige fraulein?”

  “Yes, I rang,” Tilda answered. “What is your name?”

  The maid curtseyed and replied,

  “I am called Gretel, gnädige fraulein.”

  “I need your help, Gretel.”

  The girl’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “My help?” she exclaimed.

  “Yes,” Tilda said, “I am going to trust you with a secret, Gretel.”

  The girl came a little nearer, obviously intrigued by what Tilda had to say.

  “I am going to visit a beer hall with Professor Schiller,” Tilda explained. “I want to see one so much, for I have heard how exciting your beer halls are.”

  “They are indeed,” Gretel answered. “Very exciting and great fun, gnädige fraulein!”

  “Then you can understand why I want to see one – but you must help me.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “I want a Bavarian costume. Do you think you can find one that will fit me?”

  The chambermaid looked at Tilda in consternation.

  “The gnädige fraulein is very small,” she said doubtfully.

  “You must find me one – please,” Tilda pleaded, “and look, I can pay either to buy one or to borrow it for the evening.”

  She opened her hand as she spoke so that the chambermaid could see the two gold gulden.

  “That is too much, gnädige fraulein!” she exclaimed.

  “That is what I am prepared to pay,” Tilda said.

  The chambermaid put her fingers up to her forehead.

  “Let me think,” she murmured. “I am sure I must know someone who has a dress that will fit you.”

  It seemed to Tilda as if there was a very long wait before she cried,

  “I remember! I remember now that Rosa said that she was buying a dress for her little sister, who is to be a bridesmaid at a wedding which is to take place next month.”

  She paused and added,

  “Rosa’s sister is only ten, but I feel sure that her clothes will fit you, gnädige fraulein.”

  “Then please get them for me,” Tilda said, “and quickly!”

  The maid went from the room and Tilda started to take off the elegant evening gown she had worn at dinner.

  She could not help wondering whether the Prince would admire the beautiful dresses that her mother had expended so much money and energy on.

  They had all come from a most expensive gown-maker in London and to Tilda, who had always been dressed very simply in the country, they seemed not only lovely but masterpieces of intricate tailoring.

  But, she told herself with a smile as she put the gown down on the bed, they would certainly look out of place in a beer hall.

  She took off the single row of pearls that she wore around her neck and then looked at the finger of her left hand.

  Her mother had not permitted her to wear any jewellery while she was travelling with the exception of her pearls.

  “It would be far too dangerous,” she said, “for it would undoubtedly attract the attention of thieves and pickpockets.”

  All the rest of Tilda’s jewellery with the presents she had been given by her relations before she left England, and there was quite a lot of it, was therefore in Hannah’s care.

  She never let it out of her hands and Tilda was convinced that she slept with it, not under her pillow, which would have been too uncomfortable, but beside her in the bed.

  Just before Tilda had left England, Princess Priscilla had said,

  “You should wear a ring of some sort on your finger, otherwise it will look strange when you arrive at the houses of our relations before Hannah has time to unpack your jewellery.”

  She had given Tilda a small gold ring in the front of which was entwined two hearts set with minute diamonds.

  “How pretty it is, Mama!” Tilda had exclaimed.

  “It is only a trinket that your father gave me on our honeymoon,” Princess Priscilla replied. “I admired it in a shop window and he bought it for me. I have always treasured it.”

  “I don’t like to take it away from you, Mama.”

  “I shall be very happy to think of you wearing it,” Princess Priscilla replied.

  For a moment Tilda now contemplated taking it off, but then she thought that the Professor might think it strange if he noticed it was missing.

  She therefore put her pearls in the drawer of the dressing table, but left the ring on her finger.

  Gretel returned with the clothes that she had spoken of over her arm.

  “Oh, how pretty they are!” Tilda exclaimed.

  There was a blouse with intricate red smocking on white muslin, a black bodice that laced down the front, a red skirt, which was worn over three starched white petticoats edged with broderie anglaise and a little apron bordered with lace.

  “I am sure they will fit you gnädige fraulein,” Crete! said, “and there is a wreath to wear in your hair.”

  She held it up as she spoke and Tilda saw that it was made of artificial flowers with coloured ribbons to fall down at the back.

  “Will it be too – elaborate?” she asked hesitatingly, knowing it had been chosen for a bridesmaid’s dress.

  Gretel shook her head,

  “No, gnädige fraulein. You will see a large number of girls wearing them in the beer halls. They like to dress up when they go out with their boyfriends.”

  “My boyfriend is rather old,” Tilda smiled thinking of the Professor, “but I would still like to wear the wreath.”

  The clothes that had been made for a sturdy little Bavarian girl of ten fitted Tilda well.

  The skirt was, however, too large around the waist, but Gretel had wisely brought a needle and thread with her and she took it in two inches which made it fit exactly.

  “You look very attractive, gnädige fraulein,” she said.

  The skirt ended above the ankle, which made Tilda feel a little embarrassed that she was showing so much white stocking, which was part of the costume.

  Then she told herself there was no one to make her feel shy.

  The Professor would be far too agitated to look at her and she was quite certain that, amongst all the other Bavarian costumes in the beer hall, hers would pass unnoticed.

  At the same time she could not help wondering if a man would think her attractive? Prince Maximilian for instance or the attractive Bavarian she had seen this morning – Rudolph.

  She put on her own black slippers and then with the wreath on her fair hair she took a last look at herself in the mirror.

  Her eyes were shining with anticipation of what lay ahead, for not only was the costume extremely becoming, but she also looked very young and to herself very gay.

  “Thank you, Gretel! Thank you!” she cried. “I can never be grateful enough to you. This is really the most exciting night of my life!”

  She paused to add,

  “You will keep my secret? You will tell no one? Tomorrow you must come to my room very early before I am called to take away the costume.”

  “I will do that, gnädige fraulein,” Gretel replied, “but I can collect it when you return. I am on night duty on this floor.”

  “Then I will ring the bell, but make sure that it is you who will answer it,” Tilda insisted.

  She gave the chambermaid the two gold gulden to give to Rosa for the loan of the costume and added,

  “Tomorrow I will give you two more for yourself because you have been so kind.”

  “It is too much, much too much, gnädige fraulein,” Gretel protested.

  At the same time Tilda guessed that she was excited at the thought and was doubtless already thinking of the pretty new costume she would be able to buy for herself.

  Still feeling a little apprehensive, Tilda walked along the corridor and down the stairs to the first floor.


  She had told the Professor not to wait for her in the vestibule, but at the top of the first flight of stairs so that they could take another exit out of the hotel.

  She found him there and gave an exclamation of delight.

  He too was wearing Bavarian costume.

  Even though he was old and inclined to be a little stout, the leather shorts and green jacket looked extremely well on him and only a little strange after the conventional dark suits he wore as a Professor of Languages.

  “I brought it with me,” the Professor explained a little shamefacedly, “just in case I should go out with some of my Bavarian friends.”

  “I am very glad you did,” Tilda said, “and I feel very proud of my escort. I only hope you don’t feel that I might disgrace you.”

  “You look very charming, Lady Victoria,” the Professor said admiringly, “but we ought not to be doing this.”

  “Come on, Professor, this is not the moment to be fainthearted,” Tilda smiled. “And incidentally, I am your niece – Tilda – and you are my ‘Uncle Heinrich’. Don’t dare to even breathe the name ‘Victoria’ in case anyone should overhear you.”

  The Professor groaned, but he did not reply.

  Tilda hurried him away down another flight of stairs that led to a side door of the hotel.

  They walked into the street.

  “Have we far to go?” Tilda asked.

  “The Hofbrauhaus is not far from here,” he replied. “It will not take us more than a few minutes to walk there.”

  “Then let’s walk.”

  After the heat of the day the air felt pleasantly cool.

  It was an excitement in itself to be walking along the streets rather than driving sedately beside Lady Crewkerne in a closed carriage.

  The Professor, obviously nervous, walked quickly and Tilda hurried beside him thinking it best not to delay him with conversation.

  The streets were well lit with gas globes. They turned down several side roads and then in front of them there were the blaring lights and big doors of the Hofbrauhaus.

  A large number of people stood in the entrance where there was a desk where they must buy tickets to enter the hall.

  The Professor and Tilda had to take their turn.

  While they were waiting, Tilda looked about her.

  There were a large number of tall brawny young men in Bavarian costume mostly with girls dressed like herself.

  There were also several middle-aged and older people obviously accompanying their families and making a night out of it.

  The man selling the tickets seemed to take a long time and there were difficulties over change, which made their progress slow.

  Then one of the doorkeepers was bowing low and opening the door wider for a couple who were obviously not required to purchase tickets.

  Tilda looked at them and felt her heart give a little leap.

  It was the couple she had seen in the woods by the Linderhof! She would have known them anywhere.

  There was no mistaking the handsome face of Rudolph, who was wearing the same Bavarian clothes he had worn that morning.

  But Mitzi on the other hand was very resplendent.

  Her green evening gown, cut very low and daring, was decorated with bunches of green ostrich feathers and she had a long boa of the same feathers around her shoulders.

  There were jewels sparkling in her red hair, which was piled in elaborate curls on top of her head.

  Her dark lashes seemed longer and darker than ever and her lips redder.

  “Good evening, mein herr, good evening, gnädige fraulein,” the doorkeeper was saying. “Your usual alcove has been kept for you.”

  “Thank you,” Rudolph said in his deep voice, which Tilda remembered.

  She saw him give the man a tip as they were shown through a different entrance into the beer hall than the one the ticket-holders were passing through.

  It was some minutes before the Professor was able to purchase tickets that admitted them into the big vaulted hall that was quite unlike anything Tilda had ever seen before.

  At the far end was a small stage.

  At the sides were private alcoves, not unlike small boxes, where the more important and valued customers could have their supper.

  The whole of the rest of the hall was filled with small round tables and chairs packed so closely together that it seemed almost impossible to sit down.

  But a table was found for the Professor right in the centre of the hall directly in front of the stage and Tilda looked around her with delight.

  She could not see Rudolph and Mitzi, but then it was impossible to look into all the alcoves because they were protected by their high sides, some of which were decorated with artificial vines.

  “This is so exciting!” Tilda enthused to the Professor.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Can yon eat here as well as drink here?” Tilda enquired.

  “Oh, yes. There are Munich specialities. There are white sausages known as Weisswurst, knuckle of pork called Schweinshaxen and Steckerlfisch, fish on small spits roasted in the oven, which I find particularly delicious.”

  “Will you order for me what you think I will enjoy?” Tilda asked him.

  She noticed the elated note in his voice as he recited the special dishes obtainable in the beer hall.

  The Professor gave an order to a waiter in shirtsleeves with a leather waistcoat and a brown apron, who put in front of them cut and salted radishes and some small highly salted pastries.

  “These give you a thirst” the Professor said with a smile, “and therefore you drink more beer.”

  “That is good salesmanship!” Tilda remarked.

  She ate one of the pastries and found it delicious.

  As she did so, an elderly man who was sitting in front of them and who had been there when they arrived turned his head to say to the Professor,

  “Excuse me, mein herr, but did you see any trouble outside before you came in just now?”

  “Trouble?” the Professor enquired, “what sort of trouble?”

  “We heard that the students were rioting. My wife is nervous and wishes to go home, but I have told her there is no reason for her to be alarmed.”

  “I am sure you are right about that,” the Professor said, springing to the defence of his beloved students.

  “Sometimes things get rough,” the man went on. “Last year one of our friends was injured in a student riot and my wife has not forgotten.”

  “We certainly saw no trouble in the streets,” the Professor answered, “and we walked here.”

  “There! Do you hear that?” the man gestured at his wife.

  “What are they protesting against now?” the Professor asked. “There is always something. It is part of University life!”

  “I understand,” the man at the next table replied, “that there has been some trouble about the appointment of a new Vice-Chancellor. I understand it is to be Herr Dulbrecht.”

  “And what is wrong with him?” the Professor enquired, “from the students’ point of view?”

  “He comes from Obernia,” the other man answered. “The students say they wish only to be taught by Bavarians. There is, I believe, a very anti-foreign element in the University at the moment.”

  “There has always to be some reason for protests and a certain amount of horseplay,” the Professor said with a smile. “I do not suppose it will be at all serious.”

  Reassured by the Professor’s words, their neighbour turned to his wife still attempting to placate her.

  Tilda felt that they must be up from the country.

  The husband at any rate was extremely loth to miss an evening’s entertainment and waste the price of their tickets just because of an upsetting rumour.

  The place was filling up all the time and just as the food they had ordered appeared a band began to play at the side of the stage.

  For the moment Tilda was interested in the sausages, knuckle of pork and the piec
e of fish that were placed in front of them on the table.

  She was also delighted with the huge blue-glazed jug that contained their beer and the long slender glasses they would drink it with.

  She tasted the beer and thought it rather sour.

  Then she realised that performers were coming onto the stage.

  There were six men, all in Bavarian costume, their worn leather shorts showing the vigorous treatment they received night after night from their hard-slapping hands.

  They started to dance and the noise from their heavy shoes on the stage, the slapping of their hips and the clapping that went on all round the room was noisy and invigorating.

  “It is just as I thought it would be,” Tilda said delightedly to the Professor.

  She had to repeat herself three times before he could hear her. Then he smiled and nodded his head, clapping his hands together like a boy who has gone back to a reunion at his old school.

  The dancers received tumultuous applause and were succeeded by a pretty girl who sang a somewhat soulful ballad about her lover who had been lost in the mountains.

  The audience obviously were not in the mood for sentiment and talked loudly throughout her song, waves of smoke from pipes and cigars rising in clouds above the tables and up towards the vaulted roof of the hall.

  The next item on the stage made Tilda exclaim delightedly,

  “Cowbells!”

  They were set on a table and played by a group of four. The result was not only extremely melodious, but undoubtedly very clever.

  “Oh, I am so glad to have heard them!” Tilda cried as the act finished.

  “I should eat your food. It’s getting cold,” the Professor suggested.

  After the large dinner she had already eaten at the hotel, Tilda was not really hungry, but to please him, because she was sure he wanted her to enjoy what he himself found so delectable, she sampled the white sausages and had some of the fish.

  “I am going to order some more beer,” the Professor said. “Would you like another glass or would you prefer some white wine?”

  “White wine, please,” she replied.

  She could not bear to disappoint the Professor, but she did not really like the beer. Although it was light, it had a sharp taste and she wondered why men found it so delicious.

  The Professor then held up his hand to attract the attention of a waiter.