As always, the italicized parts are what I'm unsure about:
The rain fell in thick strands for three days, persistently, relentlessly. A few showers mixed with it, and from the sea a fresh breeze came up.
In the fireplace of the ancient, furnished hall, the fire crackled. A small circle of people was gathered around it. One lookt in his colorful game, thought on this and that, yawned furtively and talkt now and then, always about the same things: about the bleak weather, about the dreariness, about the dwindling attendance. A few men played a game of whist at the round mahogany table that stood in the middle; in the rocking chair an older but youthfully dressed lady with a bored face read a newspaper that was as big as she herself. From outside sounded the surging lap of the waves that noisily, furiously came drawn from the height of the sea and beat hard and firm on the beach.
The little lady with the big newspaper got up from her rocking chair, took one of the big bare logs that lay near the fireplace, and threw it in the flame. With greedy tongue, the flame lickt up the welcome fuel, hissed loudly, and flashed back. The rattling and crackling of the dry wood became stronger. A dull bang like a pistol shot, then the excited element calmed itself down. The lady nestled herself into the rocking chair again and immersed herself in her newspaper. No one spoke anymore. Something wintry lay in the air. But it was the end of June, and Hans Warsow sat with the others by the fireplace in the great all with all of the comfort of the furnished guest house "Sea Star" in Zoppot, which lay close to the sea.
He had planned on several days of walking on the beach.
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But despite all bravery, with the continuous rain, he had to give it up and had reached the goal of his trip so much earlier than he planned. Now in Zoppot, which with only a quick stop had made an indelible impression on him, he wanted for a few weeks to rest, bathe, stretch, jump around, and gather new strength.
When he got up the next morning, the same gurgling rain trickling; the sea, of which he had an extensive view from out of his window, no longer so violently rough as on the last night, but almost murkier and gloomier, as a bored monster stretching itself out, enveloped the protruding coasts in thick fog.
He was the only one in the breakfast hall, it appeared no other had gotten up so late. Now he proceeded to the hall. As if they hadn't gone to sleep at all, so sat the same people with the same tired expressions exactly in the same place. Now and then one or an-other probably got up, went to the weather indicator that stood by the entry door, examined, tapped, shook his head, and turned disgruntledly as he came back to his place.
"Maybe you would play a game of chess?"
Hans had just withdrawn into the big social room and - undecided as to how he should kill time on this depressing morning - started to leaf through a few magazines when a soft, pleasant voice struck his ear. Before him stood a young lady, small and delicately built, in a greenish-gray, fur-garnished jacket that fit close and tightly around her radiant body; on her head she wore a felt hat of the same color, under it waved her thick, deep-black hair, in which a few raindrops had gotten caught,
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on both sides over her pale-brownish, sharply-cut forehead. "I was just about to go outside for a little bit," she went on, without waiting for a reply. "But it is impossible. And here inside, one goes to waste out of boredom." She had freed and set in place her dark hair from the felt hat, whose only ornamentation was a bold feather.
"You play chess. I can tell by looking at you, one can tell by looking at all people. In the same way that you are a priest."
"I've always been told that I don't look like a priest at all."
"On the contrary! From the first glance. Certainly, you wear a light gray suit, also your beard is secular. But it is something in your movements, in your bearing, that betrays your profession. Yester-day evening I saw it right away."
"Yester-day evening? I don't remember noticing you there."
"I believe that. I was here in the social room and made my studies through the open door. There's certainly nothing else to do now. You sat directly across from me, and I said to myself: officer? No, his face is too pallid for that. Farmer? Same reason. Businessman or civil servant? Too much of the cerebral in his features. Artist or author? Too civilly proper. So, priest."
"You seem to spend a lot of time with people."
"I get around the world a lot; I observed quite a few people there; I - well, didn't you agree to a game?"
She had taken the game board out of a closet, distributed the pieces that she set up
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and made the first move. Everything went so quickly that he, without really knowing it, was all of a sudden in the most enthusiastic match. She was a master at the game. He noticed it immediately; so sure was she in her moves, that she made them seemingly mechanically and more in passing, meanwhile she continued chatting, undisturbed. "You are a priest, I am a governess, that is a type of relationship. Otherwise I wouldn't even approach you so easily. You are from East Prussia, close to the Russian border. Right? I read it in the guest book... no, I shouldn't keep talking, you can't pay attention at the same time... stop! Now you are lost. You can move as you want, there's nothing more to do... look here: checkmate! Here's how you should have moved: the queen, and then here..."
And with a small, white hand, in which everything lived, and on whose gold finger a big ruby glowed, she showed him the moves that would have been able to save him. Even now he wasn't concentrating; she felt that he had no inclination for a second match, she didn't seem too keen on it either, she liked to be used to better players. With a slight movement, she pushed the board from herself, leaned back in her wicker chair, took a little tobacco in tissue paper out of a small silver box, wound a cigarette with a fast talent, and lit it.
"Now it's your turn. Tell me about your life, please."
He tried to. But the words didn't quite come to his lips. She wasn't even listening with very great enthusiasm; her legs wrapt over one an-other with casual grace, she squinted at her feet, whose delicate build couldn't be hidden by the strong
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shoes she chose for this weather.
He spoke of his home, he told her about Bärwalde, also about Rodenburg. Now she became more attentive; now and then she interrupted him with a question about their soil conditions and their location that showed her interest in the places that were dear to him.
But all of a sudden she was no longer listening. "The sun!" she shouted. "Look, the sun!"
A golden, long not seen stream of light broke through the window across the room and filled the big room with its warm, soft shine.
They had stept into the clear.
Slowly the elms began to be revealed, in sharply outlined [goldgeränderten] lines the hills emerged, first the Adlershorster, then also the farther Ozhöfter. To the wide sea there lay, released from all the gray haze and all oppressive pressure, the sunshine, glorious as on the first day.
"Wonderful!" Hans said, lost in devotions. He had always loved the sea, and through all of these rain-heavy days felt an irresistible longing to see it in its glowing color and the gleaming play of its light as it showed itself now from flashing silver gray all the way down to deep, steel blue that shimmered over there against the almost black horizon.
"Very beautiful!" the young girl at his side replied. But the bright enthusiasm that it had seized with the first breakthrough of the sun already appeared [verloht]. Here in the open, in the incorruptible light of the day, he saw that she wasn't quite as young as he had estimated her at first sight in the hall. Something hard lay in her profile and around her mouth was a
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peculiar, almost shifty feature whose sharpness even the radiant, cherry-red lips could not redeem. But the saucy snub nose with freckles on it gave her again something youthful, almost childlike. There were contradictions in this face and in this appearance that he couldn't rightly make sense of. He had admittedly never particularly had a way with the nature of women.
"Now a little life will finally come into the waste land," she said, "there wasn't even anything more to endure. They probably played in the casino, but with the weather who felt like going there! And there is nothing to see on the promenades and the bridges but gray, wrapt up figures and gruff faces!"
He hardly heard her. He was still completely lost in the sight of this wonderful nature that was just as lovely as tremendous. She didn't challenge it.
"Have you seen the crown princess already? No? Me neither, not yet. But she's been here for weeks already. She is often here now. The Zoppot people have given her a cottage, one can hardly call it a castle. There on the mountain, above the furthest north beach - no, from here you can't see it. She lives there and goes for a drive every day... in the car or with her four-in-hand... I have waited for her a few times before, in spite of the rain; but she didn't come. And I would like so much to see her once, I'd give anything for it!"
Her face developed an increased radiance. "Do you hear? Music! The Kurkapelle is giving its morning concert. I have to go there. There are still two hours until lunch. I will change my clothes. Bye, Pastor!"
