His wife found the situation very annoying, and she therefore resolved to get one of her sudden attacks of headache. She retired, with signs of disgust on her pretty face, to another corner, and when Borgert joined her soon afterward, she requested him in mellifluous tones to escort her home.

As they reached the door of the house in which she with her husband occupied the upper part, while Borgert had his smaller lodgings on the ground floor, she sighed with some satisfaction and said in a low voice:

"The air has done me good; I feel much better now."

"Then may I take you back to the Casino?" was Borgert's answer, and the tone of his voice was full of disappointment.

"No, no, we will go up and have a cup of coffee; that will do us good, and I really do not feel like returning to that crowd of drunken people; it is simply disgusting!"

"Just as it pleases you, my most gracious lady!"

With that he inserted the key into the lock, opened the door, and both of them silently scaled the rather steep stairs, dark as Erebus.

When they had reached her cosy parlor, Borgert brought the lamp and lit it. He knew exactly the spot where he would find it in the dark, for his acquaintance with every nook of the apartments had come in the course of time with their mutual intimacy. Then he took up a newspaper and sat down in the sofa corner.

Frau Leimann had disappeared in the adjoining room; but it took her only a very few minutes to return, bearing in her hands the Vienna coffee machine, and presenting, now that she had resumed a comfortable and coquettish kimono in lieu of her masquerade costume, a most seductive picture.

"So," said she, letting the heavy window curtains down, "now at last we are again where we can have a comfortable, undisturbed chat together."

* * * * *

The first rosy dawn showed on the horizon as a heavy, lurching step was heard on the stone stairs outside. Frau Leimann blew out the lamp, and then resumed her seat on the sofa, leaning her head against the soft cushions.

Meanwhile Leimann had noisily opened the door leading into the corridor, and now stepped into the room where his wife was waiting.

For a moment he halted at the door. He thought he discovered the scent of cigarette smoke. Then he felt his way towards the table, found a box of matches, and lighted a candle. Then he saw his wife recumbent on the sofa.

The sight touched him. Had this faithful soul awaited his coming so long, in order to offer him a cup of coffee? Doubtless sleep had overtaken her, and she had not heard his step. So he cautiously approached her and imprinted a kiss on her forehead.

A nervous cry escaped her, and she quickly rose.

"Oh, it is you, Franz. Where did you stay so long?"

"Do not be angry with me, my angel, that I kept you awake so long; but I really never dreamed that you would do this. Why did you not retire long ago?"

The words sounded so full of affection,—almost like an excuse, like a prayer for forgiveness,—but they did not touch her; she simply yawned with some affectation, and stretched her arms as if dying for a sound sleep.

"Why, you know, Franz, that I had to wait for you; you were again in a fearful condition. When I saw you sitting in that way I felt so miserable that I could bear it no longer, and went home."

"Alone,—so late at night? Why did you not have one of the orderlies escort you?"

"Borgert took me as far as the door; he offered to be my escort."

"Well, I'll have to thank him for that to-morrow, and, come to think of it, he is always very attentive to you. Where did he go afterwards; I never set eyes on him again the whole night."

"He complained of a headache, and seemed to have had enough of the whole show. I suppose he went to bed long ago."

"Why didn't you offer him a cup of coffee?"

"But, Franz, what would the servants think if they heard me coming home with a gentleman so late at night? That would never do. Our maid, Marie, anyway, is listening and spying continually, and one has to take care not to let her hear things. I presume she has been telling tales out of school as it is."

"Send her away then, if you have no confidence in her."

"I would have done it long ago, but I can't let her go until we have paid her wages. We're several months behind with her."

"Then pay her to-morrow."

"What with? Have you any money?"

"I? What an idea. You know perfectly well that the few marks of my pay could never keep this household running. Hasn't your mother sent the allowance this month?"

"No, she hasn't anything to spare this time."

"Oh, of course,—the old story."

"Is that meant for reproach? You knew yourself that we were not rich. Do me the favor, therefore, to spare me your hints and complaints. I find them tactless and inappropriate at this late time."

"Yes, you never want to hear about that. You ought to have known before you married me that to keep house without money is a beastly nuisance. Now we have this ceaseless dunning every day: one day it's the butcher, the next the baker, and the day after the laundress,—and they all want money. I can't cut it out of my hide."

"But wasn't it yourself who kept on urging and urging me until I promised to marry you? Didn't you gainsay all my objections and insist on our marriage?"

"True enough; but you and your mother ought to have known better. You never ought to have consented, even if I was fool enough to insist on it. Your mother knew how much it costs to keep house, and I didn't. And now it is too late."

"That I know myself, and you needn't drive me crazy by constantly nagging at me. And it isn't my fault, either; for if everything had turned out the way my mother desired, you would not have had to complain to-day that you are married to a woman without money. You were not the only one from whom I had proposals."

"That you ought to have told me then," replied her husband, with an ugly sneer. "I'm awfully sorry if I have interfered with your fine prospects."

"You are more vulgar, Franz, than I thought you."

"Oh, yes, women can never bear the truth. If one doesn't flatter you the whole time and play on the tuneful lyre of love, you at once begin to find fault."

"Well, I haven't been surfeited with terms of affection by you."

"That is merely because I don't know how you have deserved them of me. Is it perhaps because I don't know how to pay my shoemaker, or how to meet a whole bunch of bills that have come in the last fortnight? Oh, what a fool I have been! Instead of leading this dog's life with you, I might to-day attend the Academy of War and lead a decent existence."

"Hold your tongue, you vulgar brute; you have no right to insult me! Leave my room, or I shall leave the house!"

"Instantly, and with the greatest pleasure, my gracious lady! Pleasant dreams to you!"

So saying, Leimann violently slammed the door behind him so that the windows shook, and then went to his own bedroom.

But his wife buried her face in the sofa cushions and sobbingly sought relief in tears. That gave a vent to her feelings of hatred and rage against her heartless husband. Her whole soul rebelled against this brutal man whom she had married because he had sworn on his knees to her that he could not live without her. And now he roughly stamped into the ground the affection which she once had borne him. He desecrated all those recollections which are so dear to a woman's heart, and which at critical points in her life are meant to be a stay and a comfort, and to make the burden of misfortune lighter to her.

And if, a short time before, when she had hastily parted from Borgert, she had felt something like remorse,—something of shame in having abused the confidence placed in her by her husband,—she now regarded herself as a victim, and her fault only in the light of a just revenge for his heartless conduct.

For at no time is the heart of woman more susceptible to temptation than at the moment when she feels herself betrayed and outraged in her best feelings.



CHAPTER VI

A SENSATIONAL EVENT STIRS THE GARRISON

It was plain daylight when the last guests left the Casino. Without exception, liberal indulgence in champagne and brandy had done its work, and the motley crowd that left the building thus "early" was in a decidedly boisterous mood, and the limits of decency and good manners had been passed by them hours before.

The nearby church bell struck the hour of seven as Captain Stark and his wife, as well as the colonel and his better half, climbed into the capacious vehicle that had been waiting for them at the door of the club-house for several hours. The horses had become stiff in the joints, and, with a cold and raw blustering wind to chill them, they were now forced to pull their heavy load on the miry highway leading toward town. The coachman had to use his whip freely to make the poor beasts break into a sorry trot; but at last the human load had been deposited before their doors.

Lieutenant von Meckelburg and First Lieutenant Specht could scarcely keep on their legs; but, nevertheless, they walked straight from the Casino to the barracks, where they were to give, each of them, an hour's instruction to the recruits. They quickly doffed their fantastic gear—the organ had been left behind by the lieutenant; but when they appeared before their pupils the latter could scarcely suppress a shout of laughter. For Specht had in his hurry forgotten to remove his artificial moustache, and this gave him such an unusual appearance that it was only when his voice, somewhat shaken by alcoholic excesses, met the soldiers' ears that they felt sure whom they had before them. The "instruction" he thus imparted was certainly very far from enlightening their minds on the duties falling to the share of a defender of the fatherland.

Most of the other officers preferred, however, a good long sleep, and simply ignored the work of the day. It was only towards noon when the first captain showed his face at the barracks.

Captain Koenig and his faithful Lieutenant Bleibtreu were, in fact, the only officers of the whole regiment who attended to their duties in the forenoon, they having gone home at reasonable hours. Their principle was: first the work, and then the amusement.

Captain Hagemann showed himself in the streets, mounted on his favorite horse, as the noon hour struck. He had not yet recovered his equilibrium, and the horse seemed to appreciate that fact instinctively. He carried his master with such tender commiseration for the condition of the latter that he picked his way as carefully as if walking on ice.

Stark himself preferred to remain altogether at home. His "Kater"[15] was inexorable, and demanded a long, unbroken rest to find its way out of the muddled brain of its owner. His place in the regiment was, as usual, filled by his tireless lady. Holding her husband's official note-book in her hand, she went her rounds, noticing the presence of all the men and non-commissioned officers, and making a black mark against the name of Lieutenant Kolberg, as he was absent without leave.

[15] "Kater," a slang term for the demoralized condition consequent upon alcoholic overindulgence.—TR.

At 1.30 she received a visit from Hagemann, who came to make most elaborate and humble excuses because he had been audacious enough to indulge in gibes at the expense of the doughty lady during the ball. In fact, while in the enterprising stage which forms so interesting a part of the effects produced on human bipeds by champagne, he had been bold enough to pay her some strongly ironical compliments in her capacity of "mermaid." He had told her incidentally that she was eminently fitted for her part, as it was a well-known physiological fact that fat kept afloat on water. Frau Stark, who was proof at all times both against flattery and against the insinuating allurements of the foamy liquid, and who was as much matter-of-fact to-day as she had been the night before, merely deigned to accept these excuses with a small nod and a dry "That will do!"

Leimann, on his part, likewise started out on a tour of visits, the sole purpose of which was to offer much-needed explanations and apologies to nearly every member of the club whom he had offended more or less seriously during the period of his "howling desolation."

Night had come, in fact, when the larger number of the officers met at a solemn "Daemmerschoppen" at the Casino,—a process of applying hair of the dog that bit you to cure the injury. They discussed in voices still considerably husky and thick the doings and misdoings at the entertainment of the previous night. Criticism was applied freely to everybody who happened to be absent; but about Leimann judgment was unanimous: he was a beast.

It was Borgert's part to report to the assembled "Corona,"[16] in his inimitable manner, about that part of the adventures of Kolberg and Frau Kahle which had come under his personal observation.

[16] "Corona," meaning all the drinkers present; a student's expression.—TR.

Nothing had escaped his lynx eye, and he related with great gusto what he had not failed to discover of the interesting proceedings in the arbor. Even the protection of the screen had not been sufficient to blind him.

While all these things were said about them, Kolberg and Frau Kahle were sitting near a good fire in his room, enjoying the renewal of their intimacy.

On pretext of necessary purchases, she had escaped the vigilance of her husband, and under the protection of the dark had hastened to that end of the town and to the garden behind the walls of which stood the small house inhabited by Kolberg. Tall chestnut trees, throwing their shadows over its roof, gave it additional seclusion.

What was there really for her to make life enjoyable? Aside from walks in the woods nearby there was nothing to do for her the live-long day, so that she felt it a positive blessing to have, as often as circumstances would permit, a cosy tete-a-tete with Kolberg. Her husband, too, was not the kind of man a woman could be happy with. Hard drinking and interminable hours spent at the Casino were all he cared for. The estrangement between him and his wife had been almost complete even before Pommer, and now, since his going, Kolberg had crossed her path.

In this way passed several months.

The secret of the intimate relations existing between Kolberg and Frau Kahle had slowly filtered down into all the strata of society represented in the little town, and they formed even one of the regular themes of conversation in the low-class dramshops on the outskirts of the town where the laboring population lived.

Even Kolberg's comrades knew about it, but none of them felt rash enough to undertake mediation or interference in such a delicate matter where the tangible proofs seemed not within reach. It was to be expected, that if confronted with the facts of the case as far as these were palpable, both parties concerned would simply deny the damaging allegation, and in such a case the role of the advising friend might easily have become one of great difficulty. The accuser might then have been charged with assailing the honor of a lady of the regiment and that of a fellow-officer. Such a charge, in the absence of absolute proof, could have had but one issue. For who could tell whether the sole witness to some of the escapades of the two—that is, Kolberg's man—would stick to his statements as soon as he should see that circumstances became serious? Perhaps—and that seemed probable—he would entirely recant from fear of punishment for having secretly played the spy on his master. And suppose he then represented the facts in a more harmless light, who could gainsay him?

On the other hand, it was justly feared that the denouement of this matter would raise much dust, and lead to the resigning of one comrade, to a serious duel, and to the disruption of another comrade's household. And as Captain Kahle was rather popular with his comrades, because of his open-handedness and his easy good nature, nobody felt like opening his eyes to the miserable intrigue.

Therefore everything remained as it was, and only malignant gossip increased in volume, so that Captain Koenig at last resolved to give the commander of the regiment a hint of affairs in a spirit of strict privacy.

But the colonel asked, as soon as the ticklish subject was broached:

"Do you report this to me officially? No? Well, then, I don't want to know anything about it. I won't burn my fingers in meddling with a matter of that kind."

Koenig himself did not feel like becoming the instigator of a most disastrous scandal. After all, it was not primarily an affair where he ought to take the initiative, and this aside from the further consideration that he would probably become involved in a duel by taking the lead in exposing the guilty parties. He therefore also made up his mind to keep quiet.

Thus it was that nothing was done by anybody to put a stop to all this mischievous talk, and to put out of the world a matter which was of the greatest injury to the regiment and to the whole corps of officers,—a matter, too, in which the civilian population was perfectly justified in pointing the finger of scorn at them. And whereas in other circles, in civilian ones, the guilty parties would under similar circumstances have been called to account, in this instance a state of things was permitted to exist for a number of months which scandalized every decent person who, while forced by social conventions to meet the offenders on terms of equality, would have entirely shunned them once proper steps were taken to conciliate outraged public opinion. And this was all the more reprehensible because it affected a caste which deems itself superior to any other within the monarchy, and which believes itself to be the guardian of good manners and morals, and of a high conception of honor.

The largest measure of blame necessarily fell to the share of Colonel von Kronau. This gentleman, at all other times ready to proceed with stringent severity wherever he discovered slight breaches of discipline or of the mechanical details of drill, and who knew no clemency where nothing was to be feared for himself by playing the rigid taskmaster, in this instance tolerated this shameful thing; for he knew that interference in this particular would mean for him, in any case, serious inconvenience. Two things were possible. Either he would be charged with falsely accusing others, or else his position as commander would receive such a blow as to make it perhaps untenable, once his superiors should obtain knowledge of the actual state of affairs within the regiment. Neither of these contingencies was to his taste.

It was, therefore, with great relief that he one day received the official notification of Captain Kahle's promotion to a majority, together with an order of the latter's transference to a garrison in South Germany. That, then, meant the longed-for end of this horrible business, and he doubly rejoiced that he had not acted on the spur of impulse; for he doubted not that, if he had, the outcome would not have been as favorable.

Kahle felt naturally greatly elated at his unexpectedly rapid promotion. At last he had reached the goal of his ambition. For many years, ever since he had entered the army as a beardless stripling, it had been his aim to attain to a commanding position. And once up the ladder as far as major,—the critical point in the career of every German army officer,—he could with confidence await further promotions in the course of time; for he was not devoid of talent in his profession, and had devoted much serious study and research to its higher spheres, although the benumbing effects of the dissolute and monotonous life in the little garrison had also had upon him decidedly deleterious effects. He had acquired drinking habits, and his domestic peace had, as he was aware, for some time suffered therefrom; but he felt sure that amid new and more inspiring surroundings he could pull himself together and become once more his old self of former days. Hence the new Major Kahle felt happy, and no cloud disturbed his serenity. He was going to a large and lively city, and both he and his wife would reap the advantages of that. There was quartered there a considerable body of troops of various branches of the service, and his intercourse would, in consequence, greatly widen, and so would that of his wife. His income would be much larger, and the social attractions offered in the new place,—such as diverse entertainments, concerts, a good theatre, and the opera,—would do much to restore that sense of contentment to his volatile spouse which she had seemed to lack for long.

The day after his promotion had become public,—a "Liebesmahl"[17] assembled the entire corps of officers at the Casino. Specially to honor the departing major, the colonel had ordered full-dress uniform, and Kahle himself, a man of tall and commanding figure, made a fine show in all the glory of his orders, silver tassels, and broad stripes.

[17] "Liebesmahl," a fraternal banquet arranged, on special occasions, by the officers of a garrison or of a regiment for the purpose of celebrating joyous events.—TR.

After the second course the colonel arose and made an impressive speech in behalf of the departing comrade. In it he paid high tribute to the new major's popularity and to his eminent military virtues. At its close he handed to Kahle the usual silver tankard, bearing the initials and insignia of the regiment.

Kahle was greatly moved by these tokens of esteem, and he thanked the colonel in a short, manly way. In his farewell speech the joy of his promotion was the predominant note; but there was an undertone of sadness at parting, after so many years, from comrades and a garrison he had known so long. Often, it is true, he had sighed for a change, and there had been a good deal of worry and annoyance in this world-forgotten little town close to the French frontier; but now, when the hour of parting came, it cut him, nevertheless, to the quick to have to leave it all behind. Such is the weakness and inconsistency of frail human nature.

Next day he left by the noon train, and the officers were assembled at the station in full force to bid him good-bye. Brief military leave-taking,—just a shake of the hand and a word or two. The colonel formally and affectionately kissed him on the cheek, and then Kahle bade leave to his wife and their little son. His heart was heavy, and it cost him something to conceal the tear which had stolen into a corner of his eye. He had fully resolved to make his married life hereafter a happier one, and to have once more a real home. It was this thought in his mind which made parting with his wife particularly cordial. He trusted that she would rid herself of those bad habits she had acquired here, and that different environs would soon sweep from her memory recollections of life in this little town, where he and she had been forced to spend the best years of their lives, at the frontier, quasi outcasts of the empire.

Until arrangements could be made by him for new and comfortable quarters in the garrison he was going to, Frau Kahle was to stay on here, and First Lieutenant Weil and wife had asked her, to make things pleasanter for her, to remain as a guest at their dwelling for the short intervening time.

Joyfully Frau Kahle had accepted the friendly invitation. Thus she would have occasion thoroughly to enjoy herself with Kolberg until the hour of separation from him should strike. She felt with great relief that with her husband away she had no longer to give an account of her actions to anybody.

One day the Weil family were seated with their guest at table, when a military servant brought in a letter for Frau Kahle which the carrier had just left. She opened it, rapidly looked over its contents, and then put it away in the pocket of her robe, her cheeks reddening.

"Frau Pastor Klein is writing me to come and take a cup of coffee with her this afternoon, since she wants to see me once more before my going,—amiable of her, isn't it? I think I will start at once, so as not to be too late."

She arose, and sidled out of the room with a "Till this evening, then!"

A few minutes later Weil saw her hastening down the street in the direction of the town.

"Strange!" he then said to his wife. "I don't think she ever associated with her before, and scarcely knows her. I hope this is not one of madame's little tricks."

"Let her go where she will, Max," retorted Frau Weil, indifferently. "It's none of our affair. She will leave in a day or two, anyway, and, after all, she is responsible for her own actions."

But Weil shook his head doubtfully and went to his study.

The clock on the mantel indicated eight, and Frau Kahle had not yet returned. They began to fear anxiety on the score of their guest. What could have happened to her?

The maid was just setting the table for the evening meal in the adjoining room when the couple were giving expression to their surmises, explaining in one way or another this prolonged absence.

"Minna,"—Frau Weil turned to the girl,—"I think you had better go to the house of Frau Pastor Klein and ask whether Frau Major Kahle is still there. I shall have no rest until I know what has become of her."

"I don't think I shall find her at the Frau Pastor's, gracious lady," replied the girl, "for I saw the Frau Major up on the avenue, about half-past four, as I was fetching the milk, and the Frau Pastor lives right behind the church."

"In that case there is no use in sending there," and Frau Weil shrugged her shoulders.

"I think my idea will prove the right one," said the first lieutenant,—"it was a mere pretext on her part. She did not want to tell us where she was really going. I have my own thoughts about the matter."

"And what do you think, Max," his wife asked, with some show of curiosity. "Where else could she be?"

"With Kolberg, of course."

"But how can you say so, Max? I don't suppose she...."

"Certainly she will! That is just what she is doing."

Both became silent when the servant girl stepped in. She placed the teapot on the table, and then took a folded piece of paper from her pocket, and handed it to Weil with a peculiar smile.

"Has this perhaps been dropped by either the Herr First Lieutenant or the gracious lady?"

And as Minna had again retired, the officer first gazed at the paper with eyes wide open, then he gave a scornful laugh and held it open to his wife.

"Here, my dear, will you not convince yourself? There it is in black and white."

Frau Weil hesitatingly took the slip of paper from his hands and read:

"Am expecting you to-day at 4.30, since I shall be engaged to-morrow in the service."

Signature and address were wanting, but the writing was unmistakably Kolberg's.

"Here it is," said Weil. "That is her way of thanking us for offering her our hospitality,—just lying to us, and trying to befool us for no other purpose than to permit her to continue her disgraceful conduct. Didn't I at once say it would be better not to have her come? But you, of course, insisted on inviting her. If you had listened to me, we should now be spared the disagreeable necessity of throwing that woman out."

"But for heaven's sake, Max, that you can't do. Throw the note into the fire!"

"I'll do nothing of the kind," her husband flared up. "I shall certainly throw her out of the house! Or do you suppose I'm going to make our home a convenient shelter for depraved women? Let her see where she will find another refuge. As for me, I respectfully decline the honor of harboring her any longer as our guest; and this note will not go into the fire, but, instead, where it belongs,—before a Council of Honor!"

The young officer was in a great state of excitement. With rapid strides he measured the room, burying his hands in his pockets. His dark look betrayed indignation and resolve.

"If you will take my advice," his soft-hearted spouse said, with some trepidation, "you will put that bit of paper into the stove and keep quiet about the whole matter. She is to join her husband in another two days, anyway, and then there would be an end to her intrigues in any case. Do me the favor, my dear Max, and leave your fingers out of that pie, for there will be nothing but disagreeable consequences awaiting you if you don't. And then, another thing, think of the poor major!" And the little woman had actually tears in her eyes.

But that stubborn husband of hers proved inexorable.

"I shall do what I said I was going to do, and that's all there is about it. These are matters you don't understand. I won't quietly look on while this person continues her miserable intrigue with that scoundrel, Kolberg,—at least not while she is in my house. She ought to have had enough decency remaining to have left off meeting him while being the guest of honest people. That is beastly; it's worse than beastly,—hoggish, I may say!"

Frau Weil did not insist any longer. She knew her husband, knew his strictness in such matters, and also knew that the more she would plead with him the more fixed his purpose would become; but her forehead became rumpled with unpleasant thoughts, and she sat down before the glowing coal in the grate, in a brown study.

Her husband meanwhile continued to pace the carpet, reflecting on what steps he had best decide.

At last the maid came into the room once more, and said, with a mien of ill-concealed curiosity:

"Madam is served!"

"Tell us, Minna, where did you find that letter?" said the officer to her.

"I found it lying in the hall under the hat-rack; I presume it must have dropped out of somebody's pocket."

"Very well; you may go."

Silently the couple sat down to table. Weil's face was clouded, and his wife scarcely looked up from her plate. She lifted her glance to him, however, with considerable anxiety when the hall door was heard to open, and Frau Kahle's voice became audible.

"She is coming, Max! Now, for pity's sake, don't make a scene! Think of the servants who will be sure to listen and to spread everything that's said."

But Weil did not answer, neither did he look at the door when it now opened and gave admission to the Frau Major. Her face was rosy with excitement, and her eyes were gleaming in humid tenderness.

"Good evening, both of you!" she cried gayly, her voice trembling with suppressed agitation. "I hope you will pardon the delay; but Frau Pastor Klein pressed me so much to drive with her over to the city that I could not resist, and that is how it became so late. But it was delightful,—my afternoon with her. We were at a cafe, and made a number of purchases."

Weil arose stiffly and faced his guest.

"Madam," said he, with quiet dignity, "it is useless for you to try to deceive us as to the purpose of your absence this afternoon. The letter which reached you while at table with us, and which has come into our hands by accident, proves in the most unmistakable manner that you have abused our hospitality most grossly. May I request you to leave this house as soon as ever you can, but certainly no later than to-morrow morning? I must beg that you will leave us undisturbed for the remainder of the evening."

He ceremoniously bowed, and then took his seat once more at table.

Frau Kahle remained for a moment as if petrified in the semi-obscurity of the room. Then she hastily seized her chatelaine bag. Her hand tremblingly fingered its contents, and then she turned to the door and went out, slamming it behind her. The footfall of her retreating steps could be heard in the direction of her own room.

After supper the first lieutenant stepped up to his writing-desk, lit the green shaded lamp, and sat down on a stool before it. Next he selected a large sheet of official note-paper, dipped his pen, and leaned back and reflected.

For some time he thus concentrated his thoughts, and at last began to write.

His spouse, meanwhile, with anxious aspect, sat on the sofa near a small table, busy with some embroidery, her fingers mechanically travelling to and fro; but every little while she cast a troubled glance towards her husband, whose pen went scratch, scratch, over the paper.

At last he had finished the letter. Weil reclined pensively in his chair, and slowly read over and over what he had written. He made no alterations, but folded Frau Kahle's note up with his own, and then enclosed both in a large yellow envelope, sealing it in the proper way.

Then he locked up the document in a drawer of his desk, blew out the lamp, and took a seat on the sofa next to his wife, perusing attentively a newspaper.

Frau Kahle departed the following morning by an early train. Nobody, not even the orderly, knew her destination. He had taken her trunk to the station, but she had not told him a word as to her future intentions. And neither by letter nor by word of mouth had she left a word of thanks or apology for her late hosts.

At noon of the same day Lieutenant Kolberg, whose mind not even the faintest suspicion of these latest developments of his intrigue had crossed, was ordered to appear forthwith before the commander. The latter, dryly and without comment, informed him that proceedings had been begun against him before the Council of Honor, and that until further notice he would be excused from service.

There was much excitement within the body of officers. In their secret hearts every one of them was glad that in the deadening monotony of their garrison life this affair, painful as it was, was now assuming tangible proportions. For not a single one of them had any kindly feeling for Kolberg, whose secretive disposition and whose absence from nearly all joint festivities at the Casino had rendered him unpopular, and Frau Kahle herself was scarcely better liked, desperate flirt as she was.

It was because of this that none of the officers, least of all Borgert, refrained from criticising in a most uncompromising spirit both Kolberg and his paramour. And Weil's proceedings were unanimously adjudged perfectly correct. The remarks made in regard to this whole matter were by no means couched in such terms as might have been expected from his Majesty's officers of the army when applied to comrades. In fact, hard names were used, and everybody proclaimed aloud his intention severely to cut "the vulgar beast" and "that coarse woman."

Colonel von Kronau had had a great fright when Captain Stark, as president of the Council of Honor, had handed him in the morning that document which had given Weil so much anxious thought. He ruminated and lugubriously pondered what had best be done in this unfortunate affair in order to end it with the least amount of scandal; but his cogitations were in vain. The matter had been brought formally to the attention of the Council of Honor, and, according to the strict wording of the instructions provided, there was no squelching or modification of the proceedings possible. He had to be satisfied, therefore, to curse most heartily the author of the fatal document,—First Lieutenant Weil,—and to give him in his thoughts a big black mark in the next conduct list.

A most unwelcome business, indeed. Already he saw himself superintending the unloading of hay-carts on that estate of his, far off in the eastern, semi-civilized districts of the realm.

But it was poor Major Kahle who would suffer most of all. After attaining at last the goal of his desires, all his aspirations were to be nipped in the bud by the misdemeanor of his wife. He had no idea where she was now; she had preferred not to venture near him in leaving the garrison, since she did not feel sure of a cordial reception on his part. Hence she had sent her little son to her parents, while she herself had taken up quarters in Berlin. Her chief amusement just now consisted in the inditing of innumerable letters to Kolberg, full of reproaches for "having succeeded by his diabolical arts in alienating her affections from her husband," while the leisure she could spare from these epistolary efforts was devoted to roaming that broad international thoroughfare, Unter den Linden, which presented to her, after her long "exile" close to the frontier, a striking and highly appreciated contrast.

Kahle was firmly resolved to show the door to his faithless wife if she should dare present herself before him; meanwhile he took preliminary steps to obtain a legal separation from her.

But there was another thought heavy on his mind. It was the unavoidable duel. Because his wife had deceived him, the army code forced him to next expose himself to the bullet of her seducer, instead of simply expelling the latter from the army and giving him a much-needed period of reflection in jail.

He was expected to "save the honor of his wife" by mortal combat.

What an absurdity! he thought to himself. Is there any honor left in a wife who deceives her husband? A coquette she was, heartless and honorless, nothing more, and yet he must risk his life in defence of a thing which did not exist any longer, and which, he now strongly suspected, had from the first been nothing but a delusion on his part—her honor! What a ludicrous farce!

And he began to reflect whether there was not some way in which he could escape this impending duel. Not because he was a coward or afraid of death; no, he was brave enough, but he could not see why he should expose to blind chance not only the fruits of his own arduous life, but also the future of his son, merely because another man had acted in a despicable manner. It was quite possible that his adversary might kill him in this duel. In that case he, the innocent party, would suffer the supreme penalty which man can suffer,—death,—and the criminal himself would go off scot-free.

But reflection showed him clearly that there was no way to avoid mortal combat, for, if he refused or neglected to send a challenge to the other, the Council of Honor was bound under the code to dismiss him from the army, because, forsooth, he did not know how to "protect the honor of the profession." On the other hand, if he did this prescribed duty of "honor," and fought this duel and escaped being wounded or killed, a term of confinement in a fortress awaited him. The latter seemed to him the lesser of two evils, but he now made up his mind to show no consideration to the man who had destroyed the peace of his home, and who was likely to destroy his existence. He would demand the most severe conditions for this duel, and he would not scruple to send a bullet crashing into his antagonist's brain if his arm were steady enough, or else let the scoundrel deprive him of his life as well,—a life which would hereafter be a burden to him.

The proceedings and investigations of the Council of Honor required several months. Things were unearthed which to the younger officers of the garrison seemed very interesting, but which threw a dubious light upon Lieutenant Kolberg and his conceptions of honor and comradeship.

The behavior, too, of the corps of officers underwent a change during this time.

At first all the officers had shunned Kolberg, and he was only occasionally seen in the environs of the garrison when exercising his horses.

But one day Borgert was in severe financial straits, and then, all his other sources failing, he had repaired to Kolberg for the money as a last resort. And Kolberg on his part had been shrewd enough to use the opportunity to place Borgert under obligations, for he knew the latter's influence on his younger comrades. Therefore, Kolberg managed to raise the thousand marks needed, and put himself at Borgert's disposal for future occasions of the kind.

The result of this manoeuvre could have been foreseen. Within a few days Borgert had changed his tune in regard to Kolberg's character and failings. At the Casino table he now sang his praises, lauded the fine qualities of comradeship possessed by Kolberg, and condemned the view taken by the superior officers of the lieutenant's guilt, doing all this in his effective manner, half banter, half bonhomie; so that the disgraced one, although not doing actual duty, became suddenly a well-received guest at the social functions in the Casino; and not alone that, he also assumed successfully the part of host himself, in the much-talked-of little garden-house under the chestnut trees.

Kolberg could even go so far as to brag at his own table, while champagne from his cellars was flowing and his guests smoked his fragrant Havanas, of the prowess to be shown by him at the prospective duel. He applied names like "Daemelsack"[18] to Kahle, of whom he vowed to "make short work." In that way he not only silenced all his former detractors, but actually became the lion of the garrison—a dashing fellow, who had made the conquest of a lady's heart, while others had to be satisfied with lesser game.

[18] "Daemelsack"—a low term of opprobrium.—TR.

He began to sing small, however, when he one day received Kahle's challenge:

"Fifteen paces distance, visored duelling pistols, and an exchange of bullets to the point of incapacitating one or both parties."

That he had not expected. Why, this was murder, he said, and the issue of the forthcoming duel now became suddenly rather doubtful to him; all the more as the major was known to be a good shot, and his reputation as an excellent Nimrod was known beyond the confines of the garrison.

So, then, Kolberg earnestly began to train for the meeting. Day after day he could be seen issuing forth for a walk into the woods nearby, for pistol practice. Scores of trees soon bore the traces of his bullets. When the day of battle would come he meant to be prepared to face his adversary well equipped.

Sometimes, when he sent leaden pellets, one after the other, into his targets, the thought would occur to him that really he ought not to hit the major, since he had sinned against him and betrayed his trust. It was something like the last flickerings of a feeling of duty which had dwindled for years in the slow process of moral decadence: the last flutterings of a guilt-laden conscience and of a sense of justice. These dim emotions, however, were drowned by a more powerful sentiment: his newly awakened love of life, the primal feeling of self-preservation, which seized him all the harder the more he began to muse about the possibility of having to lose a life which offered so much that was worth living for. An inner voice called to him: "Thou shalt not die! Life is sweet!"

And there was only one way of carrying out his purpose,—to kill his man.

In this way, with delays and supplementary investigation, four months elapsed. Then at last the Council of Honor pronounced its sentence. Kolberg was dismissed from the service; but, along with the formal request to his Majesty to confirm the sentence, went a unanimously signed petition for his reinstatement.

The proposed duel was likewise sanctioned, but not under the conditions proposed by Kahle. Perhaps it was feared that a fatal ending to the duel, such as the very stringent conditions seemed to make almost unavoidable, would raise too much dust. For quite recently there had been several cases of a similar nature, and the death of one of the duellists had had the most disagreeable consequences for those high-commanding officers who had neither attempted to modify the conditions of combat nor endeavored to bring about reconciliation.

Thus it was that the new terms of the challenge were: thirty-five paces distance and one exchange of bullets; ordinary pistols.

Kahle, then, was to be given no opportunity to punish as he deserved the disturber of his domestic peace, because superior officers did not wish to bring unpleasant consequences upon themselves; for the duel, as now arranged for under these altered terms, he regarded as a mere farce, and a possible fatal issue could be nothing but the work of blind accident.

Borgert had been requested by Kolberg to serve as his second, and the former readily agreed to this; for on the one hand he liked to play the role of an onlooker in such an affair, and on the other he deemed it prudent to put Kolberg under a new obligation; all the more as the repaying of his loans seemed as far off as ever.

On the eve of his leaving for that city in South Germany where the meeting was to take place, Kolberg once more assembled his faithful admirers in his quiet little garden-house. His invitations had been for a banquet, washed down with some of his choicest wines. The drinking on that occasion was so hard that Kolberg himself became completely intoxicated, and when his guests left he was snoring in a drunken stupor on his lounge. The train left early, and Kolberg's man had a hard task in rousing his master sufficiently at the proper time to hastily prepare him for his long journey.

Borgert had been in a similar plight. As he stood on the station platform a few minutes before the train rolled in, he felt as if he had only just now risen from his chair at the festive board.

As he confided this impression to his principal, Kolberg, he did not forget to mention incidentally that, "of course," he had forgotten to take his purse along. With a show of assumed indifference he stuffed the two "blue rags" into his watchpocket, Kolberg having fished the bills with trembling fingers out of his own wallet, and a silent pressure of the hand was the only thing Kolberg was ever to receive in lieu thereof.

They arrived at Kahle's garrison in due time, still in a somewhat dazed condition. Kahle's second had attended to all the preliminaries of the duel. It was a cold morning when two cabs rolled out of the town on their way to the garrison shooting stands, where the bloody meeting was to take place.

The sun was just peeping over the backs of the mountains to the east, and sent his first oblique rays down upon the hoar-frosted stubble fields.

Peacefully Nature spread her autumnal robe, and in the forest deep silence reigned. The only sound, now and then, was the fluttering of a dead leaf seeking its bed of repose on the bare earth.

In the first cab sat Kolberg, Borgert, and two surgeons, while the second was occupied by Kahle, his second, and the two members of the Council of Honor, who were to witness the duel as impartial judges. Beneath the rear seat lay the case of pistols. From the highroad the vehicles turned into a side path, so narrow that the branches of the trees standing to right and left frequently beat against the cab panes.

They reached their destination,—an opening in the woods. It was here, secluded from all curious and observant eyes, that the officers of the nearby garrison went to settle their "affairs of honor." The occupants of both vehicles descended and ordered the drivers to ride back to the edge of the woods, and there await their return.

The case containing the pistols was placed on a slight eminence, and the seconds took out the weapons; then these were loaded, and both pistols underwent an examination by the seconds.

The surgeons took off their coats, spread out their instruments, and made ready strips of bandage. Meanwhile the judges had measured the proper distance and had firmly planted their swords at either end, to mark the terminal points. This was accomplished with some difficulty, as the ground was frozen hard.

The customary formal attempt to effect a reconciliation was ineffectual, of course, and so the two principals took their stands at the indicated points.

Kahle looked pale; he trembled with the cold, and his nervously-twitching features betrayed intense agitation.

Kolberg, on the contrary, was almost smiling, and threw away with a careless gesture the stub of the cigarette he had been smoking until the last.

One of the judges explained briefly the order of combat, saying that the shots must be fired between the words "one" and "three." A moment later he commanded:

"Ready!"

Both men held their pistols pointed towards the ground, in order to raise them immediately on the word "one."

Simultaneously with "two" Kahle fired, and the ball struck with a slight noise the bark of a beech tree, a step or two to the left of and above his adversary, while a small twig fell rattling from overhead. Kahle's unsteady hand had given his pistol a slight upward turn, so that he had missed his prey.

Kolberg, however, stood throughout firm and motionless, and took steady aim, so that with "three" the trigger of his pistol fell.

Kahle looked unflinchingly at the small black mouth of the pistol pointing at him, but at the shot he opened his eyes wide, lurched heavily, and fell headlong.

A cold tremor ran down Kolberg's spine as he saw the tall, powerful man pitch forward, and for a moment he remained, his smoking pistol lifted, rooted to the spot. Then the weapon slipped from his hand.

The others, however, immediately ran towards the major, and the surgeons tore open his coat.

There was a small hole in his chest, and the blood began to ooze from it.

Kahle had lost consciousness for a second only. Now he lay there, pale, and gazing steadily at the men busily engaged about him.

Kolberg also approached, holding out his hand in token of amity; but he quickly withdrew his hand and retreated out of sight, for a cold, repellent look from Kahle's eyes had met his. From some short distance in the rear, out of the reach of those severe eyes, he attentively viewed his prostrate foe; then he turned on his heels and made off through the woods, towards the cabs.

The major's wound, however, was found to be not fatal, although the bullet had grazed the lungs, and a long time would have to elapse before he would be up and about once more.

One of the cabs was driven up and the major carefully lifted into it. The two surgeons accompanied him inside, while his second occupied the place next the driver. Thereupon they drove back at a slow gait to the city, where the injured man was to be at once taken to the hospital.

After he had taken farewell from the two judges as the vehicle reached the outskirts of the town, Borgert, who remained with Kolberg, slapped the latter encouragingly on the shoulder and said:

"Don't make such a wry face, man alive! Be satisfied that you got off with a whole skin. Of course, it was rough on the poor devil that you happened to hit him in the chest; but that's something you are not responsible for; after all, the challenge came from him. And now let's have a good breakfast, for my stomach rebels against this raw air. I am not accustomed to knock about the woods so early in the morning."

"I feel sincerely sorry that I hit the major so unluckily," replied Kolberg; "but I didn't mean to, and the devil take the women! It's always their doing. I don't know anyway what made me take up with that silly Kahle woman!"

"Don't bother your head about that, my dear fellow," said Borgert. "The major alone is to blame, for he ought to have looked out better for that handsome wife of his. And as for her, she is not worth a thought, as we all know. One must treat a woman as she deserves."

Borgert's specious eloquence succeeded in a short while in dispelling the clouds from Kolberg's face, for to his callous perceptions all that the other had said was true. That there were heartless and vulgar sentiments contained in Borgert's words he neither understood nor cared about.

So these worthy twain proceeded to their hotel, donned citizens' clothes, and then repaired to a fashionable restaurant. The waiters received them with sleepy eyes, being just engaged in putting the place to rights; for it was still very early in the day, and they looked at their guests with something of amazement.

The two officers started in on their round of dissipation with several glassfuls of neat brandy, and wound up, late at night, in a resort of doubtful repute. Whoever might have observed them throughout the day, joking and jesting, could not have helped the conclusion that these two had clearly forgotten the events of the morning, and that they had recovered, together with their peace of mind, that superficial good humor which so often distinguishes the conscienceless rascal from the man of finer mould.

Next day, at noon, our two heroes arrived at their garrison. They were received with open arms by a number of their comrades, for the rumor of what had occurred had preceded them.

A group of officers, in fact, stood on the platform of the little station as they left their train, and after much handshaking and congratulations, all of them accompanied Kolberg to his dwelling, there to celebrate his triumph in a "drop" of choice wine.

But there were some of the officers, especially the elder ones, who censured Kolberg for his heartless behavior. Several of them even went so far as to say that it would have been more fitting for him to have remained alone just at this time, and to make amends for his past follies by a term of undisturbed self-inspection; this new orgy they thought, above all, indecent and coarse.

Two days afterward the confirmation of the sentence pronounced in his case by the Council of Honor arrived from Berlin. With it came likewise the permission for Kolberg to enter the army anew as a junior lieutenant. That, however, meant his transference to another garrison, for in this one there was no room for him. Before he could start his career afresh in a beautiful city by the Rhine, Kolberg had to comply with one other little formality, and that took him to a fortress where he had to undergo confinement of an easy description, and lasting only for a couple of months, because he had been guilty of "participation in a duel with deadly weapons," as his Majesty's decree read.

The major recovered very slowly. The difficult operation undertaken by two regimental surgeons of removing the bullet imbedded near the spinal column had not entirely succeeded. The bullet had indeed been removed, but inflammation of the affected parts had set in, and this had been accompanied with great pain and a high fever.

It was only towards the close of winter that the major was dismissed from the hospital as a convalescent. His health and his energy were both gone, and he was compelled to resign his commission in the army, his strength being insufficient to discharge the duties of his post.

He also had been sentenced to a three months' term in a fortress in consonance with the invariable custom followed in such cases by the Kaiser, which makes no distinction between offender and offended, between victim and aggressor. But in this instance a confinement of a few days was considered ample, and at the expiration of this brief term the imperial pardon reached the broken-down man, and he was permitted to depart to wherever his inclination might take him.

Kahle thus saw his life's labor destroyed. As a man who had scarcely reached forty, yet with his physical strength nearly spent, he had to face the question how and where he was to carve out a new field of activity for himself. His small pension was wholly insufficient to enable him to even eke out an existence on it, and he had, besides, by the decree of the court, been intrusted with the sole custody of his child. This, while it gave him at least an object in life, was for a man in his circumstances an additional grave burden; for his little son was still of that tender age to require a woman's constant ministrations.

The small fortune which his divorced wife had brought into their marriage had, of course, been handed back to her by the law.

And why had all this misfortune overtaken him?

Because the army code and social conventions had bidden him to save as much of the "honor" of his wife as he could. To this mistaken idea he had been sacrificed.

And Kolberg was domiciled by the vine-clad borders of the Rhine, and in his new garrison led a life as dissipated and as free of care as he had in his former one.



CHAPTER VII

AN AIRY STRUCTURE COLLAPSES

Seated at his desk in his elegantly furnished apartments, we see First Lieutenant Borgert.

Before him lay a large sheet of paper covered with rows of figures, and all around him whole mountains of documents, bills, and vari-colored envelopes.

One after another he took up these bits of paper, and from them noted down amounts on the big sheet. He had already reached the third column when he suddenly ceased his labors and threw the pencil disgustedly away. Then he grasped the whole pile and threw it into the fire, where in a few moments it was consumed in the leaping flame and reduced to a tiny mass of ashes.

His laudable purpose had been to go through all the claims against him, so far as they had been presented. Usually his simple method was to throw bills, as they reached him, into the stove; but for once he had been curious to find out how much he really owed in the world, or at least to gain an approximate idea of his indebtedness.

But we have seen that he gave it up as an impossible task. To tread the mazes of these bundles of dunning letters, plaints, simple bills, and formal orders issued to him by the colonel to discharge certain debts submitted to his authority, was more than Borgert felt himself equal to, especially as the conviction had very soon dawned on him that his was labor lost. This much had become quite clear: to pay his debts was impossible, for their total rose far and away above his surmises. When he had left off in sheer disgust, the neat little sum of eleven thousand marks had been reached, and to that had to be added the other mountain of bills which he had just consigned to the flames.

Most of all, the seven hundred marks which he owed to Captain Koenig lay on his conscience; but there were some other items that pressed him hard, for they were "debts of honor," contracted with his equals in the social scale; and the first of these, amounting to two thousand three hundred marks, was due in about six weeks. How and where should he raise these large amounts?

He began to reflect. The furniture had already been saddled with a chattel mortgage, one of his horses even been mortgaged twice, and for the other, his former charger, he probably would not get more than three hundred marks, and that was nothing but a drop on a hot stone. Of his comrades there was none remaining with whom an attempt to borrow would have had the slightest prospect of success,—possibly Koenig alone excepted. But should he go to him again with such a request? It could not be easily done,—at least not before the old item of seven hundred marks had been paid back. The only safety anchor he could think of was a formal request for a large loan from a Berlin usurer with a large clientele in the army. In fact, he had tried it; but the fellow had not yet been heard from, although three weeks had gone since this same individual had been furnished with a surety given by First Lieutenant Leimann, and with a life insurance policy in the amount of twenty thousand marks.

For the moment nothing could be done. He would try to pacify in some way the most pressing of his creditors, and to pay in small instalments only those who either should begin legal proceedings against him, or lodge their complaints with the regiment. Perhaps—who could tell?—an undiscovered source might open somewhere; perhaps luck at the cards, so long unfaithful to him, would return, or one of his many tickets in various state lotteries would draw a big prize. And who could tell but what the biggest prize of all, a wealthy bride with a good fat dowry, might not fall to his share? He had formal applications of the kind on file with several of the most prominent and successful marriage agencies at the capital and elsewhere, and only recently one of these centres for the radiation of connubial bliss, so much in vogue with his kind throughout the empire, had been heard from to some apparent purpose.

"Quite a bundle of bright hopes," he said to himself, and with that his plastic mind resumed its equilibrium. His good humor returned, he lit himself a cigarette, and whistled a gay tune, while pacing the thick Smyrna rugs in the centre of his study.

His alert ear heard a whispering in the corridor. He discerned the soft tread of nimble feet on the hall carpet, and then there was a knock at his door.

That must be Frau Leimann, he thought to himself, for she frequently paid him hasty visits at the afternoon tea hour, because at that time her husband used to go to the "Daemmerschoppen."

To his "Come," however, a poorly clad woman with a basket on her arm stepped over the threshold. Her youthful face showed already the unmistakable stamp which care and sorrow had imprinted on it, and she gazed shyly at the officer who had remained standing in the centre of the room, whence he eyed his visitor with undisguised displeasure.

"And what is it you want again, Frau Meyer?" he blurted. "I've told you once before that I will give you no more washing to do."

"I beg the Herr First Lieutenant will excuse me, but I wanted to ask whether I cannot have to-day those forty marks, or at least a part of them. I badly need money, for my husband has been lying sick for three weeks past and is unable to work."

"Oh, bother!" replied Borgert, roughly. "Come back to-morrow night; I have no small change about me, and I haven't any time to spare."

"But I hope you will keep faith with me this time, Herr First Lieutenant; you have promised so often to pay me."

With that she diffidently opened the door and left, but Borgert undid one of the windows and let the pure autumn air stream in. The odor of these poverty-stricken wretches was insupportable to him. Disgusting! He took from a carved cabinet on the wall a large perfume bottle, and sprinkled a good portion of its contents upon the costly rugs and the upholstery of his furniture. Then he rang the bell for his servant.

The man stepped in briskly. It was Private Roese, whom the captain no longer wanted in the front, since he had proven unreliable, and with his deficient conceptions of military discipline would only be an injury to the squadron.

"What did I order you to do, you swine?" the officer shouted.

"I was to let nobody in without being announced," answered Roese with diffidence; "but the woman passed me by, and I could not hinder her from going in."

"Then throw the carrion out, thou sloppy beast! The first time somebody is let in again without my consent, I'll cowhide you within an inch of your life!"

In saying which, he struck Roese with both fists in the face, then thrust open the door and kicked him out.

"If the hag should come back to-morrow night, you tell her I've just gone out!" he called after him.

Borgert had just seated himself, with a newspaper, by the window when the floor bell once more sounded. It was a short, energetic tinkle. The servant came in and announced, with a face still wet with tears:

"A gentleman would like to see the Herr First Lieutenant!"

"What is his name? I told you always to get the name first."

The man left the room, but immediately returned.

"He will not give me his name, but he says he must speak with the Herr First Lieutenant in any event."

"Then ask him in!"

A moment later a man stepped in, carrying a large wallet under his arm, and introduced himself,—"Bailiff Krause."

"Begging the Herr First Lieutenant's pardon in case I should disturb him, but I have a mandate from the court. Please, here it is!"

And he took from his wallet a voluminous envelope and handed it to Borgert, who, however, did not lose his presence of mind, and answered in a pleasant tone:

"Ah, I know. Has already been settled yesterday; for I presume it is for that small amount which I owe to my tailor."

"As far as I know, Herr First Lieutenant, it is about the matter of the firm of Froehlich & Co., the sum demanded, on bills of exchange signed by you, being four thousand marks, for furniture sold and delivered."

"Oh, that's it! The firm might have spared itself that trouble; the whole amount was transmitted by my bank day before yesterday."

"So much the better, then," jested the official. "I have the honor."

"Farewell, Herr Krause; I would say au revoir, but your visit always means a doubtful pleasure."

When the man was gone, Borgert tore open the envelope and scanned the contents of the document it contained.

That was a most disagreeable business. The furniture had not yet been paid for, but already mortgaged, although the explicit terms of the contract forbade his doing so until after payment in full to the merchant had made the whole his own property.

Four thousand marks! A heap of money! He would have to speak to Leimann; perhaps he could do something.

Then suddenly he remembered that the bailiff had not passed out into the street through the front garden. He called his servant and asked him:

"Where did the man go to?"

"Upstairs, Herr First Lieutenant."

"To Leimann's?"

"Just so, Herr First Lieutenant."

Well, now, what had he to do up there? Could it be possible that they also were in his toils? That indeed would be bad, for Leimann had, in spite of all, remained something like an aid and help to him in becoming surety for payments promised or in calming obstreperous creditors.

Meanwhile Herr Krause handed to Frau Leimann, scared almost out of her wits, the summons in an action begun by the firm of Weinstein & Co., to which she owed a matter of four hundred marks for a silk robe furnished by them.

She was in despair, and scurried to and fro in the room, vainly cudgelling her brain for an idea that would bring her succor. What could she do? Where should she get the money? She would go to Borgert and ask him for the amount. But what would he think of her? Would he not lose all respect for her?

For a moment she stood undecided in her room, and pressed both hands against her wildly beating heart. Then she went resolutely to the door and hastened down the back stairs.

She found Borgert musing in an easy-chair, and he did not even rise when she entered, but merely waved his hand in greeting to her. But she stepped up to him and kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and then she sat down close by him. He was puzzled by her demeanor, and looked up questioningly into her face.

"What kind of visitors do you receive nowadays?" he said pleasantly.

"I? Visitors?" Frau Leimann retorted with some embarrassment. "I have received nobody,—truly not, nobody."

And while she said it her eyes wandered about the room without meeting his.

"You have received no visitor? Oh, but that is a big fib!"

"Why should you say so, George; who should have been to see me?"

"Well, I merely thought a certain Herr Krause called on you."

"How do you know that?" she cried, startled by his knowledge.

"I know everything, my child; even that the bailiff was just in to see you."

Frau Leimann was covered with confusion, and mechanically began to fondle the seam of her little silk apron.

"Well, if you know, it is unnecessary for me to tell you. Yes, he was to see me."

"And what did he want?"

The pretty woman told him the details. With a tear-choked voice she exclaimed:

"I am lost if my husband hears of it!"

"But I don't see. If he has bought it he must, of course, pay for the dress."

"He knows of nothing. I had to have the dress, the red silk, you know. I told him at that time that my mother had sent it; for he would have refused me, and I had to have it, and so I took it on my own account."

"That was very stupid of you. Where will you take the money from now?"

"I really don't know. Cannot you help me?"

"I will go to those people and ask them for time."

"There would be no use in doing that, George; I must have the cash. I need at least a thousand marks, for I have to pay for other things as well—the dressmaker, the hair-dresser, the shoemaker, etc. Get me the money, George, and show me that you really love me as much as you always say you do."

"I?" Borgert set up an unpleasant laugh. "Good heavens, I don't know myself what is to become of me."

"How so? Are you in debt too?"

"If you would take the trouble to devote some attention to that big sheet of paper over there on my desk, you might be able to tell. That sort of thing I get every day."

Frau Leimann stepped up to the desk, unfolded the big sheet, and stared with wide-open eyes at the formidable columns.

"Why, I had no idea of this, George! What is to become of all this? You were my only reliance, and now I am entirely undone."

She sank, sobbing, down on the divan and covered her face with both hands.

"Don't lose courage at once, you little goose; you won't die for the lack of these few hundred marks!" Borgert consoled her, affectionately passing his hand over her blonde hair. "I will see what can be done, and in a week's time you'll have your thousand marks."

For an answer she put her arms passionately around Borgert's neck, and thanked him.

"I knew that you would not leave me in the lurch, thou best one!"

* * * * *

When Leimann returned home about eight o'clock, he found all the rooms dark and silent.

To his question about his wife the maid answered:

"The gracious lady has gone out."

"Where to?"

"I do not know, Herr First Lieutenant!"

He lit a lamp and then went to the letter-box to ascertain whether anything had arrived by the evening mail. He found two letters with bills inside, amounting to over six hundred marks.

He did a little grumbling to himself, and then locked up the two "rags" in his desk.

In doing so he noticed a large yellow envelope. Supposing it to be an official letter, he seized it, intending to open it. But he found that it had been already opened, and his curiosity grew as he drew from it three large sheets.

Without at first catching its purport, he gazed at the clerical handwriting in it, and then he sat down at the table and read the whole document from beginning to end.

Ah, indeed, his wife too? Why, that was quite a charming surprise! If her funds were running so low as to oblige her to contract debts it would be vain, he thought, to expect any help from his mother-in-law, and yet he had always counted on her as a last resort. In a rage he flung the summons and the legal statement into a corner and went up and down in the room, musing on the financial embarrassment of his wife.

Probably Frau Leimann had heard the steady tramp of his feet through the ceiling, for now she entered with exuberant excuses.

"My dear George," said she, breathlessly, "I had a pressing engagement with my dressmaker, and I ran after you in the street. I saw you passing before me, but I could not catch up with you."

"What did you have to do with your dressmaker?" Leimann confronted her furiously.

"What else should I have had to do there than business for which I pay her? She is making a riding-habit for me!"

"You had better first pay for your old rubbish before ordering any new gear!" shouted he.

"Why this tone to me? And who tells you that I do not pay my bills? You think, I suppose, that I'm squandering my money as you are squandering yours."

"If you do not wish me to see what the bailiff brings you, you had better not leave it directly under my nose."

His wife for an instant did not quite understand what he meant by that, but then she recollected that she had left the summons on her husband's desk.

"I must tell you very emphatically," she flared up indignantly, "not to put your nose into my private correspondence. If the letter was lying open on the table, you had no right to read it. I never look at your bills."

"Oh, do what you please; but I must request you not to bring the bailiff to my house."

"That is not the worst, mon cher, that may happen to you; he will know now at least the way here when he'll call on you next."

"Hold your tongue, you impudent woman, or I will throw you into the street."

"Many thanks for your kind offer, but I'm going of my own accord."

She left the room, went into her bed-chamber, and retired to rest.

Meanwhile on the floor below Borgert was reading a book; but his thoughts were far away. He had serious forebodings that all his creditors, like a pack of hungry wolfhounds, were about to engage in a joint hunt for him, or rather for the money that he didn't have. He was afraid that the colonel would soon demand the immediate payment of his load of debts, and that, if unable to comply with the order, resignation from the army was the only possible outcome. And what should he do then, without a penny, without any useful knowledge, and with many luxurious habits? Something must be done, he made up his mind, and he was going to employ the next day, a Sunday, to consider once more the various possibilities of raising a large sum, no matter how, to discharge all these liabilities, most of them small in themselves, but in their totality representing quite a fortune.

Solaced by the hope that after all some mild hand would open and drop into his lap a small mountain of gold, he fell asleep; the book slipped from his hands, and the lamp on the night table went out after midnight, since Borgert had forgotten to blow it out. He slept restlessly, and bad dreams pursued him. His load of debt developed into a nightmare that was pressing on his chest and threatening to crush out his life.

When he awoke in the morning it was past ten. Borgert began to rage. Almost half the day was gone now, and yet he had meant to do so much. Had this ass of a servant again forgotten to wake him? With that his head ached, and he felt nervous and out of sorts. Throwing his dressing-gown loosely about him he went into his servant's room and found Roese laboriously penning a letter. When his master entered the poor fellow shot out of the seat and stood bolt upright.

"Why didn't you wake me, you beast?" he thundered at him.

"I wakened the Herr First Lieutenant at seven o'clock, but the Herr First Lieutenant wanted to continue sleeping and said I need not come back any more to annoy him."

"That's a lie, you swine; I will teach you to do as you are told." And he seized a leather belt lying on the fellow's bed, and with it struck Roese violently, then kicking him, and letting the belt play around his face and neck until broad livid marks began to show.

Roese preserved his military attitude, and stood his punishment without in the least resisting. But that was a further cause of anger to Borgert, and the latter dropped the belt, and with his fist struck the man several hard blows in the chest. Then he took the man's letter, half finished as it was, crumpled it up in his hand, and threw it into the coal-scuttle.

"Step upstairs lively and tell Herr First Lieutenant Leimann that I want to speak to him. Tell him if possible to step in here for half an hour before he goes to town."

"At your orders, Herr First Lieutenant."

Borgert stepped back to his chamber, finished dressing, and then went into the adjoining room.

Sure enough, there stood his coffee, but cold as ice. In that case Roese must have been before him in the room. Well, a drubbing or two would do the fellow no harm. That was good for preserving discipline and a respect for his superiors, even if now and then it should be applied not exactly at the right moment.

On his desk were lying several letters. Three of them contained bills, and the fourth was from his father. The three he threw unopened into the fire, and the fourth he read as follows:

MY DEAR SON,—With growing concern I have seen from your last letter that you had again to incur large expenditures which harass you because you had not counted on them. Much as my desire would be to let you have the money you ask, with the best intentions it is not possible to do so. You know best how closely I have to economize to make both ends meet. If seventy-five marks would be any object to you, I could let you have them, although I had promised your mother this money for a new dress of which she stands in much need.

But I must frankly confess to you that I do not see why you should not be able to meet all your legitimate expenses with your pay and the two hundred marks allowance per month. At your age I did not have more than that myself, and yet I was able to undertake an extended trip every year. I give you the well-meant advice to live for a time a little more apart from your comrades, in order to reduce your expenses. Employ yourself diligently at home—there is so much to learn in your profession nowadays—and avoid carefully every opportunity which would force you into needless outlay which you would subsequently not be able to meet. Make your scale of living correspond to your income. If you will openly declare that this or that is too costly for you, every one will respect you the more, for they will see that you are not spending beyond your proper income. Do not live carelessly, and shun those amusements which you cannot afford. After all, it is both sensible and high-minded to live within one's means.

Write to me soon how you have regulated this affair and whether the small sum I can offer you will be of advantage to you.

In the hope that no inconvenience of a serious character will grow out of your present embarrassment,

I remain, Your affectionate OLD FATHER.

When Borgert had read these lines, he crushed the paper within his palm and then cast it likewise into the stove. With a sigh he sank into a chair and began to ruminate.

At this moment his servant entered and announced Leimann.

Borgert went to the door to meet his friend, and when they had stepped into his study, Leimann asked with considerable anxiety:

"Well, what important matter is it you have for me this morning?"

Borgert planted himself squarely on his legs in front of the other and said with assumed gaiety:

"You see, my dear fellow, we all have our troubles. I have just about reached the end of my tether and should like to appoint you receiver of my assets."

"The end of your tether?" retorted Leimann with agitation. "What do you mean by that? Do you mean in money matters?"

"You have guessed it. I must have money right now, a whole bagful of it, or else I'm done for."

"Is it as bad as all that? Have new complications arisen? Why, you told me the last time that you were out of your troubles just now."

"Yes, I did; but yesterday I made something of an investigation, and I found that there is no other way out my difficulties than by means of a gigantic loan. I should like, therefore, to speak openly to you about the matter, for I'm in hopes that there must be still ways and means to keep me above water."

Leimann lowered his eyes, looked fixedly at the pattern of the Turkish rug, and rubbed reflectively his unshaven chin. Then he replied with a shrug:

"How much is it?"

"Twelve thousand marks I must have, and not a penny less, for I'll have to make a clear track. I'm about badgered to death by these unceasing dunning letters and complaints in the courts."

"Hm, and how did you think you were going to manage this matter?"

"I have some more addresses of financial men, usurers, you know. If I could get you once more to go security for me, I think we ought to be able to attain our end."

"Security? Security? Yes, it is easy for you to talk that way, my dear boy; but finally there must be something in the background in order to assume responsibility for another's debts. I must tell you frankly that if you can't meet this payment of three thousand marks of last month, there will be the devil to pay for me, since I went bail for you."

"I do not think there is any need of your being so explicit; as a matter of course, I shall meet my obligations."

"I don't doubt it in the least; but for me it is indeed impossible to become security for you once more. Not only that, but I have to ask you to let me have some money, for I really do need some very badly."

"With the greatest of pleasure," said Borgert with a sinister smile; "but why don't you raise money on your 'commiss-fortune'?[19] That, it strikes me, would be the surest way of obtaining it."

[19] "Commiss-fortune"—the term applied to the dowry of an officer's wife, which must reach a certain figure.—TR.

"My 'commiss-fortune'? Very well put; but I'd have to have one in order to raise money on it."

"What have you been marrying on, then?" asked Borgert in amazement.

"I only had it four weeks in my hands, when it was returned to the party who had lent it for a consideration until I had obtained the official consent."

Borgert looked in consternation at his friend and then began to measure the room in nervous excitement.

"In that case," he began, after making several turns of the room, "I will make another proposition: I become surety for you, and you for me."

"Good," cried Leimann, joyfully; "but it is a somewhat ticklish business, for some time or other there is bound to come a crash, and then if neither of us has a penny there will be the deuce and all."

"That catastrophe will not happen, my most beloved friend, because if I can pull through once more there will be nothing to fear for me. I shall marry."

"By the eternal gods, but you have amazing courage! Only let me tell you, be careful in the choice of your father-in-law, otherwise it is a worse than useless arrangement. I myself can speak from experience."

"That is a matter of course; I shan't marry on empty promises. For less than half a million they cannot do business with me."

"Well, I wish you luck; but, come to think of it, how is it about Koenig? Couldn't he be induced to come out with a few thousand marks?"

"I've thought of him, but it seems to me doubtful whether he can be got at. For, first of all, we would have to pay him the old score."

"All right; but we might make at least an attempt. He can't say more than 'no,' and I shall sit down at once and write a few lines to him."

Leimann took a chair at the desk and a sheet of letter-paper from one of the drawers.

Borgert sat down quietly in a corner, lit a cigarette, and blew its smoke into the slanting triangle of floating particles of dust which was formed by a ray of sunlight penetrating his window. The bluish wreaths of smoke formed fantastic bands, weaving and interweaving.

Now at last the letter was ended, and Leimann closed it, wrote the address on the outside, and Roese was told to take it immediately to its destination.

"That will pull his leg, I think, if anything will!" said Leimann, with a satisfied air, as he arose from his chair.

"What have you written him?" asked Borgert with some curiosity.

"Simply this,—that I needed money for a comrade and appealed therefore to his generous sentiments of friendship which he had so often proved. As a term for repayment I have indicated three months hence, and have pledged my word for the punctual refunding of the money; for you told me, you know, that you would have it here by that time."

"Most assuredly I can. If the fellow will only give us the money now, everything else will be attended to at its proper time."

Thus they chatted on for another half hour, when Roese returned with his answer from Captain Koenig.

Leimann quickly grasped the letter, but then he hesitated before opening it. Undecided, he scanned the address and looked questioningly at Borgert, who was still comfortably seated in his chair.

At last, however, impatience mastered him, and Leimann tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter.

With consternation he read again and again. Borgert saw from the face of his friend, who with eyebrows lifted and hands trembling with nervous excitement stood there a picture of disappointment, that Koenig's answer had not brought joyful news. But he was more quiet and felt less disappointment than Leimann, although the whole matter concerned in the first place rather him than the latter. It was no longer new to him to receive denials to his letters requesting loans.

His face, though, assumed a wrathful expression when Leimann handed him silently Koenig's response, and he began to read it. In his letter the captain said:

"I earnestly regret that I'm not able to comply with your wishes. On the one hand considerations for my family restrain me, for sums of such magnitude I could only advance if perfect security for their repayment were offered. But the only pledge you offer me for punctual return of the money is your word of honor, and I am sorry to say I cannot look upon that as such an absolute security, since you as well as First Lieutenant Borgert have not yet refunded the divers amounts which I loaned you months ago, although you at the time passed your word to me to see that the debt was paid promptly within ten days. Besides, it seems to me, that your financial condition, as far as I understand it, is not of a description to guarantee the keeping of a promise of that kind made to me."