By this time, Diederich had learned self-control, a sense of good form, esprit de corps, and zeal for his superiors. He thought with reluctance and pity of the miserable existence of the common herd, to which he had once belonged. At regularly fixed hours he put in an appearance at Wiebel's lodgings, in the fencing-hall, at the barber's and at Frühschoppen. The afternoon walk was a preliminary to the evening's drinking, and every step was taken in common, under supervision and with the observance of prescribed forms and mutual deference, which did not exclude a little playful roughness. A fellow-student, with whom Diederich had hitherto had only official relations, once bumped into him at the door of the lavatory, and although both of them were in a great hurry, neither would take precedence over the other. For a long time they stood bowing and scraping—until suddenly overcome by the same need at the same moment, they burst through the door, charging like two wild boars, and knocked their shoulders together. That was the, beginning of a friendship. Having come together in such human circumstances, they drew nearer also at the official beer-table, drank one another's health and called each other "pig-dog" and "hippopotamus."
The life of the students' corps had also its tragicjside. It demanded sacrifices and taught them to suffer pain and grief with a manly bearing. Delitzsch himself, the source of so much merriment, brought bereavement to the Neo-Teutons. One morning when Wiebel and Diederich came to fetch him, he was standing at his washstand and he said: "Well, are you as thirsty to-day as ever?" Suddenly, before they could reach him he fell down, bringing the crockery with him. Wiebel felt him all over, but Delitzsch did not move again.
"Heart failure," said Wiebel shortly. He walked firmly to the bell. Diederich picked up the broken pieces and dried the floor. Then they carried Delitzsch to his bed. They maintained a strictly disciplined attitude in the face of the landlady's vulgar tears. As they proceeded to attend to the usual formalities—they were marching in step—Wiebel said with stoical contempt for death: "that might have happened to any of us. Drinking is no joke. We should always remember that." Like the others, Diederich felt elevated by Delitzsch's faithful devotion to duty, by his death on the field of honour. They proudly followed the coffin, and every face seemed to say: "The Neo-Teutons for ever!" In the churchyard, with their swords lowered, they all wore the reflective expression of the warrior whose turn may come in the next battle, as his comrade's had come in the one before. And when the leader praised the deceased, who had won the highest prize in the school of manliness and idealism, each of them was moved as if the words applied to himself.
This incident marked the end of Diederich's apprenticeship. Wiebel left in order to get called to the bar, and from now on Diederich had to stand alone for the principles which he had laid down, and inculcate them in the younger generation. He did this very strictly and with a sense of great responsibility. Woe to the freshman who incurred the penalty of drinking so many pints in succession. He was obliged to do it for a good deal longer than five minutes, and ended by groping his way out along the wall. The worst offence was for one of them to walk out of the door in front of Diederich. His punishment was eight days without beer. Diederich was not guided by vanity or personal considerations, but solely by his lofty idea of the honour of his corps. He himself was a mere individual, and therefore nothing; whatever rights, whatever dignity and importance he enjoyed, were conferred upon him by the corps. He was indebted to it even for his physical advantages: his broad white face, his paunch which inspired the freshmen with respect, and the privilege of appearing on festive occasions in top boots and wearing a cap and sash, the joy of a uniform! It is true he had still to give precedence to a lieutenant, for the corps to which the lieutenant belonged was obviously a higher one. But; at all events, he could fearlessly associate with a tram conductor without running the risk of his being impertinent. His manly courage was threateningly inscribed on his countenance in the slashes which grooved his chin, streaked his cheeks and cut their way into his close-cropped skull. What a satisfaction it was to exhibit these constantly to every one! Once unexpectedly a brilliant occasion arose. He and two others, Gottlieb Hornung and the landlady's servant, were at a dance in Halensee. The two friends had been sharing for some months a flat with which a rather pretty servant was included. Neither gave her presents, and during the summer they went out with her together. Whether Hornung had gone as far with her as himself was a matter about which Diederich had his private opinion. Officially and as a member of the corps he knew nothing.
Rosa was rather nicely dressed and she found admirers at the ball. In order to dance another polka with her, Diederich had to remind her that it was he who had bought her gloves. He had made a polite bow as a preliminary to the dance when suddenly a third party thrust himself between them and danced off with Rosa. Considerably taken aback, Diederich looked after them with a sombre conviction that this was a case where he must assert himself. But, before he could move, a girl had rushed through the dancing couples, slapped Rosa, and dragged her roughly from her partner. It was the work of a moment for Diederich, when he had seen this, to dash up to Rosa's ravisher.
"Sir," he said looking him straight in the eye, "your conduct is unworthy of a gentleman."
"Well, what about it?"
Astonished by this unusual turn to a dignified conversation Diederich stammered: "Dog."
"Hog," replied the other promptly with a laugh.
Completely demoralised by this absence of good form, Diederich prepared to bow and retire. But the other gave him a punch in the stomach and immediately they rolled on the floor. Amidst screams and encouraging shouts they fought until they were separated. Gottlieb Hornung, who was helping to find Diederich's eyeglasses, cried, "there he goes"—and rushed after him, with Diederich following. They were just in time to see him and a companion getting into a cab, and they took the next one. Hornung declared that the corps could not allow such an insult to pass unpunished. "The swine pinches and does not even trouble to look after his lady," Diederich explained.
"As far as Rosa is concerned, I consider the matter closed."
"So do I."
The chase was exciting. "Shall we overtake them? Our old nag is lame. Suppose this commoner is not of high enough rank to fight a duel with?" In that case they decided that the affair would be officially considered never to have happened.
The first carriage stopped before a nice looking house in the West End. Diederich and Hornung got to the door just as it was shut. They posted themselves with determination in front of it. It grew cold and they marched up and down in front of the house, twenty paces to the right and twenty paces to the left, always keeping the door in view and repeating the same profound and serious remark. This was a case for pistols! This time the Neo-Teutons would buy their honour dearly! Provided he was not a commoner!
At last the concierge appeared, and they consulted him. They tried to describe the two gentlemen, but found that neither of them had any special marks. Hornung maintained, even more passionately than Diederich, that they must wait, and for two more hours they marched up and down. Then two officers came out of the house. Diederich and Hornung stared, uncertain whether there might not be some mistake. The officers started, and one of them seemed to turn slightly pale. That settled