Gambling was to help him to this; besides, in itself it gave him intense pleasure.

He was ready dressed to go out, and was only lingering before the looking-glass, when he heard outside the signal-whistle with which Heppner, his boon-companion, was accustomed to call him. He soon joined the deputy sergeant-major in the street, and after a brief greeting the two walked rapidly towards the town.

A few steps from the White Horse the trumpeter suddenly stopped, felt in his pocket, and exclaimed, "Damnation! I've left my money behind at home!"

"Never mind!" said Heppner, in his genial mood. "You shall eat and drink free to-day, and I'll lend you a thaler into the bargain. There, catch hold!"

He gave him the piece of money before they reached the door, and the trumpeter rejoiced: borrowed money brought luck.

The landlord of the Horse had laid the table neatly in the little parlour. The leavings of the previous evening had been freshly dished up, and the barrel, which must still contain nearly forty litres of beer, had been cooled with ice.

But only one of the five banqueters was in the vein—Blechschmidt, sergeant-major of the fifth battery. He was still eating and drinking when the four others were already sitting at the half-cleared table playing cards.

"Something moderate to begin with!" the master baker Kuehn had suggested; so each one put down three marks.

It was a long time before the last fifty-pfennig piece was played out of the pool; but Heppner triumphed. He had been right in his premonition; when he counted his money he had won nearly two marks.

After this exertion the players took a little refreshment, and while eating talked the game over.

Heppner swallowed his bread and meat eagerly, and the last plate had hardly been cleared before he began, his eyes twinkling craftily, "And what next, gentlemen?"

The master baker laughed pleasantly and replied, "Well, as we've been lying low, we may afford to let ourselves go a bit now."

Thereupon the landlord bolted the door and saw that the shutters were firmly closed. They drew closer together, and even Blechschmidt came nearer.

The players bent over the table, their eyes followed the dealing of the cards with eagerness, their faces glowed. They lighted their fresh cigars on the stumps of the old ones, and when their throats became parched from excitement, they gulped down rapid draughts of the beer, which was gradually becoming flat and muddy as it flowed from the tap into the glasses.

They had lost all thought of time.

Suddenly Blechschmidt, the tireless toper, grumbled, "No, I shan't play with you any more. Beer's best."

The landlord looked at the clock. "It is nearly five," he said.

None of them could believe it; they thought they had not been playing above an hour at most.

But late or early they must finish the game, and they all heaved deep breaths as the last round ended. While playing they had been quite unconscious of the terrible fatigue, which, now that they had stopped, utterly overpowered them.

Now they had to calculate the gains and losses of the night. The trumpeter got through quickest. He tossed Heppner the borrowed thaler, and laughed contentedly to himself. He had every reason to be cheerful, he, who had not brought a single red pfennig with him, and who now had more than a hundred marks—chiefly in silver, but with a few gold pieces also—clinking in his pocket!

The other four had all lost. The deputy sergeant-major was quite thirty marks poorer. He glanced darkly at the small sum which still lay before him. How stupid he had been! He had thrown away his luck with the thaler which he had lent Henke, that was quite certain. Now, instead of himself, this fop had hauled in the fat baker's money. That was the reward of his good nature!

Then suddenly Henke had an idea.

"Gentlemen!" he began, "I see that I have had tremendous luck. I must really give some of it away."

He dug the sleepy landlord in the ribs, and shouted in his ear, "Now then, Anton! I want two bottles of champagne."

The landlord was quite alert in a moment. He stood to win by this sort of play.

"Bring the most expensive!" trumpeted the trumpeter. "Eleven marks the bottle, Henke!"

"No matter! What our officers can do I can do also. Bring it along!"

Mine host hurried down into his cellar and fetched two bottles of Pommery from the furthermost corner, a good dry brand with which horse-dealers sometimes christened a concluded bargain.

There was no more ice to be had; so he opened the bottle as it came out of the cellar. The cork sprang to the ceiling with a loud pop, and the wine poured from the neck like a fountain.

The two sergeants had given the word of command, "Fire!" as the cork flew out, and the trumpeter had blown a fanfare. All five buried their noses in their glasses and let them be tickled by the rising bubbles. Then they drank off the wine, which was far too warm, and could not praise it enough.

The trumpeter, who was always imitating the officers, considered himself a judge of wine. He smelt the champagne, let it lie on his tongue, while at the same time his face took on an enraptured expression, and he shouted enthusiastically, "Gentlemen, gentlemen! in this bouquet one recognises the true French brand. It is utterly different from German champagne!"

The others imitated his action and were in complete agreement with him.

Only Kuehn remarked discontentedly, "The hog-wash tastes like bitter almonds!"

At which the landlord took offence. "Don't you know then, baker," he snarled, "that that is just the way to know genuine French champagne?"

And he looked lovingly at the two corks which he had placed carefully in a corner.

When Captain von Wegstetten entered the orderly-room on the morning of April 1st, he at once said to the deputy sergeant-major, "What is the matter with you? You look quite green."

Heppner answered, "Excuse me, sir, my wife has had a very bad night."

"Indeed!" drawled Wegstetten. "I am sorry to hear it."

But to himself he thought: "If that is at all true, the man must have been consoling himself with whisky; one can smell it five paces away from him."

However, the captain offered to let him dispense with riding; but Heppner objected, and begged to be allowed to take part in the drill. He felt that would help him to shake off his unpleasant sensations; an hour's ride and he would be fresh again. A fine thing if a night's dissipation could really upset a man like himself!

His commanding officer was pleased at such enthusiasm; and as during the drill the deputy sergeant-major managed his horse—the most troublesome of all the remounts—exceedingly well, he remarked to him, "Heppner, I think I shall be able to bring you some good news at noon."

Afterwards it occurred to him that he had intended to raise objections to the colonel with regard to Heppner's elevation to the rank of sergeant-major, but now that he had committed himself to the man this was no longer possible.

He did just mention his doubts in the colloquy with Falkenhein, but he made no impression, and in the end the colonel himself covered the retreat.

"What do you expect, my dear Wegstetten?" he said. "I ask you, just take all your non-commissioned officers. Who is there you cannot accuse of gambling? It is a fatal characteristic of these mongrels that they will copy the officers, and unfortunately only in what is stupid or bad. The fine gentlemen all play, drink, fool with women, gamble; it's only a question of the one a little more, the other a little less."

Wegstetten objected modestly. "Pardon me, sir, not all. My old sergeant-major——"

He got no further. Falkenhein interrupted quickly: "You mean Schumann? Yes; there you are quite correct. But then he was the last of another generation, one of the old type—steady, quiet, discreet, honest, and trustworthy to the last fibre. But they are dying out, my dear Wegstetten. Such perfect specimens of non-commissioned officers, that used to be the rule, are now more and more the exception. I ask you for the truth: since you entered the army, have our non-coms. become better, or—well, less good? What do you say?"

"Less good, sir, unfortunately," replied the captain.

"Yes, unfortunately. Exactly my opinion."

The colonel rummaged among the papers lying on his desk, and selected two.

"Now, my dear Wegstetten," he said, "here are the appointments. I can't settle such details. That is not my business. I put it to you, therefore; will you try with Heppner?"

"As you wish, sir."

"Good; I think you are right."

Falkenhein signed the document and gave it to the captain.

"There! now he is sergeant-major!" he said, and continued: "What I most regret is, that you should partially lose him in the active work. That was his real field. But a younger man cannot be promoted over his head."

He took the second document and handed it to Wegstetten. "And here, at the same time, is the other promotion. I have followed your advice. Sergeant Heimert is to-day appointed deputy sergeant-major and relieved of his present duty. He will report himself to you to-morrow.

"Thank you, sir," replied the captain.

Wegstetten stuck the documents into his sleeve and took leave. The colonel accompanied him to the door and shook hands with him very cordially.

The captain reflected, however, as he went down the steps, that every one must have at least one fault. He, like the whole contingent, was of opinion that Falkenhein was one of the finest officers in the army, certain to become a major-general, if not a full general. And with an artilleryman this was of double significance. But why, because a man had had the good fortune to work under the sainted Moltke on the general staff, he should, therefore, always describe anything that had occurred since that time as "less good,"—that he could never understand.

That evening after roll-call Heppner read out his own promotion to the rank of sergeant-major, and that of Sergeant Heimert to the post of deputy sergeant-major.

Everybody was surprised. Heimert? Who was Heimert? No one could say.

Ah! It went on: "Deputy sergeant-major Heimert will therefore be relieved from his management of the forage department of the infantry and artillery ammunition columns and will return to his battery."

So it really was that fellow with the gigantic nose, who was always slouching about the coach-houses and baggage sheds!

Heppner returned to the orderly-room and sat down at his table, on which lay a mass of unfinished writing. Now the wakeful night was making itself felt. The sergeant yawned and took up his work unwillingly. Evidently the post of sergeant-major had some drawbacks! To be kept shut up in this room! It was not pleasant to retire from drill, riding remounts, giving riding-lessons, and leading a line in driving exercises—all that had been so much after his own heart. And this eternal scribbling would be altogether against the grain.

If only he had a clever clerk, like Blechschmidt of the fifth battery, who did not over-exert himself! But Kaeppchen was a lazy fellow; and yet on Kaeppchen he must rely, asking his advice about all kinds of things, because he himself did not know the routine yet.

It was very late before he locked his desk and went home.

His sister-in-law greeted him with news which did not improve his temper. "The tailor has been here," she said, "and wanted the money for your uniform, which you have owed for a month. He will come again to-morrow."

Heppner grumbled: "The fellow must wait!" He had no more money. It had nearly all vanished yesterday, and to-day he had been obliged to give the greater part of what remained to the women for housekeeping.

With a surly face he sat down to his supper.

"Have you been made sergeant-major?" his wife asked.

He saw his sister-in-law's eyes too fixed on him questioningly. He muttered, "Yes," to her, and then turned roughly on his wife: "What business is it of yours?"

She lay back, and answered gently: "I am so glad." "Really?" he sneered. He cast a sharp glance at her and snarled between his teeth: "Don't gush!"

Then he pushed his plate away, tossed off two glasses of beer, and lay down to rest in the bedroom.

The two sisters remained together, the invalid stretched on the sofa, the other sewing near the lamp. They heard Heppner snoring.

His wife's face was in shadow, but her eyes blazed at her sister and rested with an uncanny expression of hatred on the strong, well-developed beauty of the young girl.

There was a knock at the door. The battery tailor had brought the sergeant-major's tunic, on the sleeve of which he had stitched the double stripes. Ida took it from him and hung it up silently.

The invalid watched her indifferently. A short time before she had been mildly excited with joy at her husband's promotion; he had quite spoilt this feeling for her. Now she was callous to everything.

Suddenly she pressed her lips together and clenched her hands feverishly.

Had not her sister just handled his tunic lingeringly with a kind of furtive tenderness?

Had the scandal already gone so far?

Julie Heppner believed that she would die betrayed and forsaken by all; but during her last days she gained a sympathetic friend in the newly appointed deputy sergeant-major Heimert.

Heimert had taken possession of the Schumanns' empty house. True that at the time he was still single; but as his marriage was to take place in a few weeks, the captain had at once allotted married quarters to him. Now the deputy sergeant-major was furnishing the rooms and decking the bare walls and windows with touching care. He would arrange and rearrange the furniture, and would drape a curtain a thousand different ways, and yet nothing was ever beautiful enough for him.

On holidays he was seldom able to visit his sweetheart, Albina Worzuba. At other times he devoted every spare hour to her; but she was the barmaid of a small tavern in the town, and had no time to spare for him on holidays. Besides, Heimert did not like watching how the guests would go up to the counter for glasses of beer, and joke with Albina, or even dare to pinch her cheeks. He had on several occasions made scenes about this till the landlord had almost forbidden him the place. Albina herself, too, advised him to come as seldom as possible. She considered that as long as she was a barmaid she must be friendly, and not too sensitive to the chaff of the guests; and if it pained him to see this, it was better that he should remain away. And with an ardent glance she added that when she was his wife he would have her all to himself. Heimert had constrained himself to agree to this.

On one of these Sundays it befell that Heimert was startled from his carpentering by the sound of a groan. He went outside and listened; the moaning sounds came from Heppner's quarters. He burst the door open and entered.

The sick woman had been left alone. Her sister had gone for a walk, and the sergeant-major was doubtless at a public-house. Such neglect of her had often occurred before; but this time she had suddenly been seized by an attack of pain so severe that she thought she was dying.

To die alone! With no one even to hold her hand; without a ray of light from a living eye to brighten the dark porch of death!

Between the attacks of pain she called feverishly and breathlessly for her husband: "Otto! Otto! Otto!!"

Heimert ran to her anxiously. He gave her his hand, which she seized and held convulsively, spoke to her soothingly, and wiped the drops of sweat from her brow with his handkerchief.

He quietly gave her time to recover from her exhaustion, then said to her gently: "Frau Heppner, would you like me to send to find your own people?"

She shook her head energetically: "No, no!" and whispered wearily: "But if you would only stay just a little while, Herr Heimert!"

The sergeant nodded, and remained sitting silently beside her.

It was some time before Julie Heppner had the strength to explain to him what had happened to her. While so doing she looked at him more attentively, and was almost frightened by his ugliness. The coarse face with the outstanding ears was made half grotesque, half repellent, by an enormous nose, which was always red. What did it matter that two beautiful, kindly child-like eyes shone from this countenance? Would any one trouble to look for them in the midst of such hideousness?

The invalid remembered she had heard that Heimert was going to be married. In the light of her own unhappiness she thought to herself that this marriage could only turn out well if the man had chosen a woman as ugly as himself, so that in their common misfortune the pair could comfort each other.

As she gradually became able to talk to him she inquired about his bride, and the enamoured swain raved to her unceasingly of Albina's beauty and charm.

Heimert now appeared to her as a fellow-sufferer; only she was about to lay down the heavy burden, and he was but just going to take the load upon his back.

The two talked together as if they had known each other for years; they were nearly always of the same opinion. Finally, the invalid invited the deputy sergeant-major to come over often when she was alone; she would always give him a sign, and he could bring his carpenter's bench with him, the hammering would not disturb her in the least.

After this, Heimert always appeared directly Julie Heppner called him. He gained distraction from his jealous fits in this way, and he thought the sergeant-major's wife a really good woman, who had been unfortunate enough to marry the wrong man, when with another she would perhaps have been happy. The brutality with which Heppner treated the dying woman was revolting to him, and his sympathy with the injured wife gradually inspired him with a positive hatred for the sergeant-major.

The sergeant-major laughed at Heimert. "The Prince with the Nose" he called him, and sneered at his wife about this "lover."

"You two would have suited each other well!" he jeered. "You would have nothing to reproach each other with in the way of beauty!"

One day in passing he looked into the neighbouring quarters, and found the deputy sergeant-major gazing at a cabinet photograph of his betrothed. Heimert, startled, tried quickly to hide the portrait; but Heppner begged to see it.

He had expected to see a girl,—well, something like his wife, or perhaps uglier, for surely it would be impossible for any one else to fall in love with Heimert; but as he took the picture in his hand an involuntary expression of surprise escaped him: "By Jove! Isn't she beautiful!"

From that moment he was always asking Heimert to take him with him to see his sweetheart.

"Why?" Heimert asked suspiciously. "Do you want to cut me out with her?"

Heppner laughed at him. "The devil!" he said. "I have two women in the house myself, and that's more than enough. Surely one may make the acquaintance of a comrade's sweetheart?"

"And," he added craftily, "have you so little confidence in her, then?"

Heimert burst out: "Oh, that's not the reason!"

"Well then," said the other, "you know you won't be able to lock her up and hide her when she is your wife. Where's the harm in my just saying good-day to her?"

The deputy sergeant-major was forced to agree that there was really nothing against it. Moreover he was rather proud of having won such a beautiful girl; he enjoyed seeing the sergeant-major's envious eyes; and finally he said he would take him to Grundmann's the following Monday. Grundmann was the name of the landlord of the tavern in which Albina was barmaid; and as on Monday business there was at its slackest, they might hope to exchange a few quiet words with the girl.

On the Monday evening appointed he met Heppner on the parade-ground.

Heimert had made himself as smart as possible. He had put on his new extra uniform, which he had meant to keep for his wedding, and had forced his big hands into shiny white kid gloves. The collar of his tunic was very high, and so tight that he could hardly turn his head. Heppner, on the other hand, had only put on his best undress uniform. He was in a very good temper and very talkative, whereas Heimert walked beside him depressed and silent.

They arrived at Grundmann's very opportunely. They were the only guests, and the landlord had no objection to Albina's sitting at their table with them.

Heppner chose a place from which he could gaze undisturbed at the girl's profile. She pleased him. She was just to his taste, this full-bosomed girl with salient hips and rounded arms. In his opinion her face was more than pretty; her eager, passionate eyes, and her mouth with the full, rather pouting lips, on which one longed to plant a big kiss, seemed to him quite beautiful. She wore her dark hair, which was as coarse as a horse's tail, dressed in a new-fashioned way which gave her a certain "individuality"; and, above all, she had some scent about her of a kind that was only used by the most distinguished ladies.

Heppner was annoyed that she noticed him so little. She was quite taken up with her betrothed, who was telling her of the progress made in the preparation of the house, and she only gave Heppner a glance at rare intervals.

At first she did not talk much; but when, in order to say something, he asked her where her home was, she immediately began to relate her whole history.

She came from Prague, and was the daughter of a shoe-maker—or, rather, of a boot and shoe manufacturer—and, moreover, not of an ordinary boot and shoe manufacturer, but of a Court boot and shoe manufacturer by Royal and Imperial appointment, who did not work for just any one, but only for the Archdukes and for the high Bohemian nobility. And she, Albina, had always to write down the figures when her father was taking measures, and so it had come about that a Count Colloredo had fallen in love with her. He had wished to educate and marry her; but she had at last refused because the noble relations of her beloved had threatened to disinherit him if he married the "shoemaker's daughter." She could never have endured causing him to discard his beautiful Thurn and Taxis dragoon's uniform.

Now came a pause in Albina's narrative, which however did not last long. Next, she had fled from her father's house. Why? She kept that a secret. And finally, after many vicissitudes she had found a refuge here, where she was safe from her father. For he had wished later to marry her to a master chimney-sweep, and although the latter was a millionaire she would have none of him.

In reality she was the child of a miserably poor cobbler; and after a stormy youth she had brought her somewhat damaged little ship of life to anchor in the small garrison town at the bar of Grundmann's alehouse.

Heimert waited impatiently for the conclusion of her romance, which he had heard many times before. But if Albina had a chance of telling the story of her life, she became like a freshly wound-up clock, which ticks on inexorably until it runs down.

She simply left unanswered the questions her lover interposed now and then; and when he interrupted her to say that Count Colloredo had been in the Palatine hussars, and not in the Thurn and Taxis dragoons, she said crossly that he had better pay more attention the next time she told him anything. Heppner, on the contrary, who appeared to listen with interest, rose in her favour, and in answer to his questions she launched still further into detail.

And now she looked at him more closely, and took his measure with those bright eyes of hers. But having brought her story up to the present date, she turned once more to Heimert, regarded him tenderly, and said, "Shall I not be happy with him, after having had such hard times in the past?"

A few newly-arrived guests now called her to her duties at the bar, and the two non-commissioned officers remained behind alone at the table. Heimert felt the sergeant-major looking at him, as he thought, with a sneering, incredulous sort of expression. He was embarrassed, and began describing figures on the table with a little beer that had been spilt.

"Well, well," he began at last, "women are always like that. She draws the long bow, of course—as to her origin and so forth."

"Yes," answered Heppner; "girls love doing that."

"But," Heimert continued, "there is some truth in it. Her father is a shoemaker—was, at least, for he is dead now—even if he wasn't a Court shoemaker. And he must have been wealthy. He only left her what he was obliged to, and yet she receives fifty crowns interest monthly. I know that for certain."

"By Jove! that is over forty marks. You certainly are a lucky dog! Why, she's almost rich."

"Well, not quite that. But it is very pleasant, naturally. However, I didn't choose her for that reason. I first heard of it quite indirectly, long after I had proposed."

Heppner was almost overcome with envy as he saw sitting opposite to him this picture of hideousness, this perfect monster, who had succeeded—how, Heaven alone knew!—in winning a beautiful and also a rich woman. For he was obliged to believe that about her income. It was plain that Heimert was not lying.

As a matter of fact the barmaid did receive fifty crowns every month. The money, however, did not come as interest on capital inherited from her father, but was an annuity which a former lover had settled on her: a good-natured, fat tallow-chandler, who had been with great regret obliged to give the youthful Albina Worzuba the go-by, as his wife had caught him tripping. He had sweetened the farewell for Albina with this annuity.

Albina was careful not to reveal this to her future husband. Why should she? She argued that ignorance was bliss, and beyond everything she was weary of the unsettled life she had been leading, now as waitress, now as barmaid, or as something quite different, and she wanted to find rest in an honest marriage. She could attract most men as lovers, but as a husband she could only hope for one who was as simple and as much in love as Heimert. So she had fastened upon him, and she had no intention of endangering her plans by any unpleasant communications. Prague was a long way off; and, moreover, many years had passed since those days, and the money itself could tell no tales as to its source.

Apparently the barmaid would have no more free moments. So at last the two non-commissioned officers rose, paid their bill, and then went up to the bar to say good-night to her.

Now it was that Albina first noticed the full difference between her future husband and the sergeant-major. As the men stood side by side, Heppner was more than a head taller than Heimert. He was strongly built, and, despite a certain fulness, he was well-proportioned; strength, however, untrammelled, powerful, raw strength was his salient characteristic. Heimert's frame, too broad and too short, and crowned by its mask of a comic clown, looked almost deformed by the side of the other.

The girl's eyes rested with unfeigned admiration on Heppner's appearance; and when she finally turned towards her lover, a scornful smile played about her coarse mouth. But in an instant she changed it to a tender expression.

To Heppner she said: "I am glad to have made the acquaintance of one of my future husband's comrades."

"When you are married, Fraeulein, we shall be living in the same building," replied Heppner eagerly. "We shall be great friends, shall we not?"

And the beauty raised her eyes to his with a peculiar glance as she answered softly: "Oh yes, I think so."



CHAPTER VI

"For now the time to pack has come, And love is put away; Farewell! I hear the roll of drum, And may no longer stay." (Hoffmann von Fallersleben.)

Towards the end of March Reimers was turning over the pages of the Weekly Military Gazette before dinner, when he saw the announcement that his dear friend Senior-lieutenant Guentz was to rejoin his regiment on April 1st. The red order of the Eagle was to be given to him upon the expiration of his work in Berlin.

Guentz to return! Dear old pedantic Guentz, who had so often and so ruthlessly opened his eyes for him! To tell the truth, this friend had almost passed out of his thoughts; yet now he suddenly felt a genuine longing for him.

During the past winter Reimers had grown much more at home in the regiment, feeling as a wanderer returned. He felt himself freer and more light-hearted, and his comrades seemed more congenial. Never had a winter flown by so swiftly; and yet he counted the days till the 1st.

He had made a special resolve to spend his evenings over his books, and had plunged with renewed zeal into his studies for the examination of the Staff College, which had been interrupted by his illness. And then the feeling of loneliness had suddenly returned. But now all would be well, now that Guentz was coming back—Guentz, from whom no difference of rank or age had ever divided him; to whom he could speak straight from the heart, and on whose sympathy he could at all times rely.

Guentz's return was scarcely alluded to by his brother officers. After all there was nothing extraordinary about it; every year some one took up or left a post of the kind he had been filling.

The ladies of the regiment made somewhat more of a stir; for one question, which had previously been theoretically discussed, now became suddenly of burning importance.

Guentz had married in Berlin, and his bride was a governess. This much only was known: that she was not even particularly pretty. He had, of course, obtained the requisite official sanction, so that there could not be anything actually against her family; but concerning the reception into their midst of this young person, who had formerly filled a "menial position," the ladies of the regiment felt somewhat troubled.

Frau Lischke laid the case before her husband, and begged him to ask instructions of the colonel.

"H'm," answered the major, "I'll do it; but I don't care for the job. Falkenhein can be pretty sharp-tongued upon occasion."

"Sharp-tongued?" retorted his wife. "My dearest, surely you are more than a match for him there! And there's another matter. While you are about it, you might just mention that stuck-up Reimers. This entire winter he has kept away, quite without excuse, from all society. Just tell the colonel that I don't think that proper in a young officer."

Lischke was not as a rule shy or in awe of his superior officer, but his wife's commission gave him an ill-defined uneasiness, so that he boggled over his errand.

The colonel let him have his say out. Then he began, in his somewhat nervous, quick way:

"My dear major, give my compliments to Frau Lischke, and tell her that young Reimers is preparing for an examination, so that she will understand his seclusion. For my part, Lischke, if Reimers had turned up at every dance of which your wife is patroness, or which she has helped to get up, I should have been surprised. There may be C.O.'s who think differently; for my own part, so long as I have the honour of commanding the regiment, such festivities shall only be obligatory on those youngsters whose manners need touching up. That that is not the case with Reimers does not, I hope, escape the penetration of your excellent wife. That is my official view of the case; as to my personal feeling, which I give Frau Lischke in strict confidence: it is that I wish the devil would take all these everlasting balls and parties!

"With regard to Lieutenant Guentz's wife, I beg you to express to your good lady my very respectful surprise at her question. If the Ministry of War has found no fault with the young lady, then surely the ladies here may be satisfied. Perhaps they are afraid that one who has been a governess may outshine them in wisdom? Well, of course, that may very well be! I do not want to be disagreeable, my dear major; so please make my views known to the ladies as tenderly as you can."

Reimers met Guentz at the station. The dear fellow had grown somewhat stouter. No wonder, considering he had been away from duty for a good year.

As they walked away the elder officer looked keenly at the younger.

"Reimers," he said, delightedly, "you look thoroughly well. African traveller! Boer campaigner! Prisoner in a fortress! Which has suited you best?"

"Probably all three," answered Reimers; "the one counteracted the other."

"Was that so? Am I not the only destroyer of illusions? You must tell me all about everything, won't you?"

"All to you certainly."

"That's right. Well, to begin with, how does the garrison air suit you?"

"So-so. And you? How will you like this after Berlin?"

"Oh, all right, I think. If not——Well, we shall see."

For a while the friends were silent; then Guentz was about to speak, when Reimers interrupted him.

"But I must ask you, above all things, how is your wife, and where is she now?"

Guentz looked at him smiling. "She is very well, thanks, and is at the moment with her brother, a parson in Thuringia. But you don't ask after my boy!"

"What? Have you got one?"

"Rather! A fat little cub, as round as a bullet. Ten weeks old. You must help us christen him."

"Guentz, you should have told me."

"Told you what, my son?"

"That you were a father."

"Why, there was time enough. Anyhow, it was in the Weekly Military. So it is your own fault if you didn't know. But will you be godfather?"

"Of course, of course, gladly."

"Then next Saturday afternoon at five. Morning dress."

Reimers laughed gaily.

"Since when have you taken to talking like a telegram, Guentz? Are words expensive in Berlin?"

"Expensive? Pooh! Cheap, cheap! A hundred thou-sand for a farthing," broke out the new arrival, with somewhat unaccountable fierceness. His open, friendly face suddenly darkened and took on a grim, bitter expression.

"Well," he said, as they parted, "we shall meet again, very often, I hope. So long, old chap!"

In fact, Reimers became a constant guest at the Guentzes'. He feared at times that he came too often.

"Guentz, old boy," he said, "tell me frankly, am I not a nuisance?"

"How so?" asked his host, sitting up in his easy chair.

"I am afraid I come too often."

Guentz knocked the ash off the end of his cigar, and reassured him; "No, certainly not, old chap. If you did I should not hesitate to tell you."

So it came about that every Sunday at mid-day, and on every Wednesday evening, Reimers found himself at the dinner-table of the snug little villa, Waisenhaus Strasse No. 57.

Frau Klaere Guentz, a little lady with a fresh, pretty face, and bright, clever eyes, called these her "at home" days.

"You see, Fatty," she said to her husband, "I am trying to follow in the footsteps of Frau Lischke."

She lifted her eyebrows and went on, sarcastically: "When you have only been a governess you have to be so very careful. And it's difficult! Sometimes I have my doubts whether I shall ever attain to the standard of Gustava Lischke."

She sighed comically and nodded at her husband.

He threatened her: "Mind what you are about, Klaere. I will not permit disrespect. Gustava!" he added, chuckling, and turned to Reimers: "We were neighbours as children," he explained, "Gustava and I; but now she denies the acquaintance. My old father—God bless him!—was a builder. Gustava's papa dealt in butter and eggs; a worthy, most worthy man. But now, of course, according to the new fashion, they must pile it on, and Gustava's papa was a merchant."

He laughed, and then went on, more bitterly: "If you weren't present, Klaere, I should use a strong expression to set the whole dirty pack in their true light. Gustava is unhappily only a symptom, and one among many. And I tell you, Klaere, if you were to behave like her, then—then——"

"Well, what terrible thing would befall me?" asked the young wife.

Guentz checked himself. He smiled slily. "Why, then I should make use of the right which the good old law allows me, and administer corporal punishment."

Klaere laughed aloud.

"Anyhow," said she, "the women really aren't as bad as you make them out, Fatty."

The senior-lieutenant would not agree: "Now, now, Klaere, I was within earshot when all the divinities sat together discussing whether you would have hands roughened by "service," by polishing glasses, washing children, and such like."

Klaere was a little vexed. "Well," she cried, "would you have had them eat me up out of affection at the first go-off?"

"That's just what does happen sometimes," said her husband. "The moment Frau Kauerhof first appeared on the scene, a perfect stranger to them all, they threw themselves upon her neck, and hugged and kissed her, as if they had been her adoring sisters. Of course, Frau Kauerhof was a von Lueben, the daughter of a colonel and head of a department in the War Office, and you, my Klaere—shame on you!—were a governess!"

But the young wife insisted more vehemently: "Now do be reasonable!" she cried. "It has really become quite an idee fixe with you that I have not been received with due respect. I can only assure you again and again that all the ladies have been most polite and amiable towards me."

Guentz growled on: "Geese, a pack of stupid geese!"

"For shame, Fatty!" Klaere remonstrated.

But he continued to grumble. "Has a single one of them embraced you as they did Frau Kauerhof? Has one of them even kissed you? Has one been really nice and friendly to you?"

"Look here," cried Klaere quite roused, "I don't want any of them to fall on my neck when they scarcely know me. And as it happens, one has been kind to me, very kind indeed!"

"Pooh! Who, then?"

"Frau von Gropphusen!"

"Oh, I am not surprised. I except her. She is not a goose. But she's a crazy creature, all the same."

"Fatty! Don't be abominable! What has the poor woman done to you?"

Guentz rose from his chair. He took a few turns up and down the room to work off the stiffness, and grumbled on: "Done? To me? Nothing, of course. But she's hysterical out and out. That's it, hysterical!"

Klaere warmly took up the defence of the accused woman. "You may be right," she said, "but there's a reason for it."

"Certainly, certainly," answered Guentz. "Her husband is—forgive the coarse expression, Klaere—a regular hog. But an hysterical woman is an utter horror to me."

"I can only feel sorry for Frau von Gropphusen."

"And so do I. But I don't want her to hang on to you."

"She does not hang on to me," answered his wife simply.

But at this moment a subdued wailing was heard, and Klaere instantly hastened from the room.

The men, left alone, dropped into reflection. Neither spoke for a while.

At last Reimers broke the silence.

"I think, Guentz, that you exaggerate a bit. Senseless and silly prejudices are not only to be found in military circles. Anyhow, there's no good in running your head against a brick wall."

"True," assented Guentz. "But if a dung-cart were driven right under my nose, I should have to give it a shove."

He resumed his perambulations of the room, and lapsed for a while into silence.

"Anyhow," he began again, smiling contentedly, "Frau Gropphusen may come to Klaere for consolation if she likes to have her. I am sure my wife is proof against the hysterical bacillus. Eh?"

Before Reimers could answer, Klaere returned, a little flushed. She bore the baby on a pillow, rocking him in her arms.

Guentz answered his own question.

"Yes, yes, she's proof," he said.

Reimers was thoroughly happy in the Guentzes' society. The atmosphere of security and candour in which they lived influenced him unawares; it wrought as a useful antidote when his spirit was inclined to soar too high into the realms of the unsubstantial. He was much delighted to find that his friend shared his admiration for his honoured and beloved Falkenhein. Indeed, in this matter, the dry and reserved man sometimes outdid his young fellow-officer.

"There's a man!" he would say. "Head and heart, eyes and mouth in the right places! A good fellow. In one word—a man!"

This word was the highest in Guentz's vocabulary. The opposite to it, until his marriage, had been woman. After marriage he naturally excepted Klaere.

How sick he was of the way people went on in Berlin! He could hardly speak too strongly about the weaknesses of certain officers.

Reimers did not hold it necessary to be absolutely blind to the faults of one's superiors and comrades; still, he thought that his friend went a bit too far in his strictures, and he did not conceal his opinion.

"Dear boy," responded Guentz, "why should I not speak freely to you? Do you think it gives me any pleasure that so many of our superiors and comrades do not merit the respect which, as officers, they command? This has nothing to do with their personal character. The only question for me is: are they fit for their profession? If not, they are only a nuisance in it, so far as I can see."

"You used to be less severe."

"Possibly. But when one has rubbed the sleepiness of habit out of one's eyes one sees more clearly and sharply. Besides, take an example. Stuckhardt will be a major soon. Do you consider him fit to lead a division?"

"No, he has already made a terrible mess of his battery. He won't stay on the staff for a year, that's certain."

"Why should he be there at all? I tell you he should never even have been made a captain. What about Gropphusen?"

"Ah! There you are! He has missed his vocation!"

"Why is he still where he is then?" Guentz laughed grimly to himself. "What ought he to have been?"

"A painter," answered Reimers.

The other made a grimace. "Possibly!——Well, thirdly, what of my revered chief, Captain Mohr? What do you think of him?"

"He has already got a knife at his throat. I bet he'll be sent off after the man[oe]uvres."

"He goes on drinking just as he has ever since I've known him." Guentz sighed deeply. "And I tell you, Reimers, it's no joke to serve under such a man."

Reimers nodded. "I feel with you, old man. And yet half the regiment envies you for being in the fifth battery."

"Pooh!" laughed Guentz bitterly, "there you see them. They would all like to idle under a sot. They just want to be where they think they're least looked after. They may do as they choose; but I want to know what I'm here for. If I have a profession I like to live up to it; I consider myself too good to be merely ornamental. I tell you, Reimers," he went on, "I was thoroughly upset when I joined the battery. The way things go on there you would hardly believe. I wondered at first how it could be kept dark. But there's a regular planned-out system of hurrying things into shape somehow for inspection—fixing up a sort of model village. And as for honour! Well, one must admit that they all stand by one another in the most infernal way, from the respected chief of the battery down to the smallest gunner, so that they'll rattle along somehow. There's a show of some sort of discipline; but really and truly it's just an all-round compromise. A man does a couple of days' work, and earns by that the right of idling all the more shamelessly afterwards. And that I should be let in for this sort of thing! Dear boy, you know how few palpable results, naturally, an officer can show in time of peace; but still it's too much that one should do one's duty with no possible chance of any kudos. Old man, it's too bad! I can't stand it. I know this, that if it goes on I shall quit the service, dearly as I love it."

He glanced with deep sorrow at his dark green coat, and strode up and down the room.

"This is my only hope," he went on, with grim satisfaction, "that my beloved captain will soon succumb to D.T."

Reimers reflected. "You must allow that this battery's unfortunate condition is quite exceptional. Let me make a suggestion. Provoke Mohr to a quarrel! You'll be sure to be backed up. Every one knows he can't control himself when he is drunk. And you can go to Madelung, or, still better, come to us under Wegstetten."

"That's an idea," observed Guentz. "But it won't do. For, in confidence, Falkenhein has let it transpire that in the autumn I shall get my captaincy; and probably—indeed certainly—I shall succeed Mohr."

Reimers jumped up, delighted.

"But, dear old chap, then it's all right! You'll bring the fifth out of the mud. You're just the chap to do it! And your reward will be the greater in proportion to the wretched state of affairs now. Jerusalem! What a splendid division it will be! Madelung, Guentz, Wegstetten! The best heads of batteries in the whole corps! Without any flattery, old chap!"

But the other did not join in his rejoicing. "Dear old fellow," he answered, "you may think so. But I confess that it seems to me as if we had got a bit off the right track with our whole military system; as if Madelung's and Wegstetten's and my own work were bound to be labour in vain."

He stopped suddenly. His usually cheerful face had grown careworn and gloomy.

"How do you mean?" asked Reimers.

The other sighed, and answered, "Dear boy, I cannot say more as yet; I have not fully thought it out. I will first make an attempt to settle down to the work here. I promise you, as soon as my own mind is clear, I will tell you honestly what is bothering me."

Reimers suspected moisture in the eyes of his friend, as they clasped hands.

Guentz went on softly: "Dear old boy, it's pretty hard when a man finds, or thinks he finds, that he has devoted his life to a fruitless, hopeless business! What is such a man to do? But it is possible that I am right in my fears—and of that I cannot bear to think."

"What fears do you mean?"

"I can't help myself. I am often forced to remember that we've had a bad time before."

"Before when?"

"Before Jena."

Reimers started. The ominous word struck his pride like a lash. He drew himself up stiffly. "Why not before Sedan?"

The other calmly answered: "Sedan? Jena? Perhaps you are right, perhaps I am. No one knows."

After this conversation Guentz avoided such topics with his friend. If Reimers tried to draw him again on the subject, he answered evasively, "I have told you I must fight it out with myself. Until then I don't want to talk at random."

But for all that he grew calmer and more equable. The biting, sarcastic tone he had adopted gradually disappeared; and it almost seemed as if the mood had been merely a survival of his Berlin experience.

At Easter a small event occurred in the little garrison,

During Holy Week Colonel von Falkenhein took a short leave of absence in order to fetch his daughter Marie home from school at Neuchatel. After Easter she was to come out into society.

Reimers debated whether he ought not to pay his respects to the Falkenheins during the holidays. Most of the unmarried officers had gone away on leave, and on Easter Monday he was alone in the mess-room at the mid-day meal.

Finally he decided to pay his visit that afternoon.

He was not in the least curious about the young lady. He remembered her as Falkenhein's little Marie, three years ago, before she went to school; a pretty, rather slender little girl, with a thick plait of bright gold hair down her back, blushing scarlet when one spoke to her and responding quickly and daintily with the regulation childish curtsey.

She was now just seventeen; still slender, and her little face framed by the same bright golden hair, that seemed almost too great a weight for her head. Beautiful clear grey eyes she had also; and Reimers particularly remarked her delicate straight nose, by the trembling of whose nostrils one could judge if the little lady were excited about anything. She bore the dignity of being the colonel's daughter with modest pride. She handled the tea-things with the style of an accomplished matron, and led the conversation with a sort of old-fashioned self-possession.

Falkenhein never took his eyes off his child. Sometimes he smiled to himself, as he noted how unconcernedly she did the honours to her first guest, knowing well her secret anxiety to play her new part with success.

When Reimers rose to go, the colonel invited him to supper. The lieutenant accepted with pleasure. He was sure that intercourse with his commander would be of a thousand times more value to him than the dry wisdom of books.

Hitherto when Reimers had supped at the colonel's, after the meal, as they sat smoking, the senior officer would dilate on his reminiscences and experiences.

This time, however, there was a little alteration. Before a young girl the two men could not discuss specially military matters. Nevertheless, Reimers was not bored.

When Fraeulein Marie showed symptoms of beginning again in her quaint universal-conversationalist style her father interrupted her.

"Little one," he said, "leave that sort of chatter alone! Keep it for others. Lieutenant Reimers does not care for that kind of thing. And I know him well, I assure you, my child; he is one of my best officers."

The little lady opened her eyes wide on the young soldier. "If papa says that," she said gravely, "I congratulate you, Herr Reimers."

The colonel laughed aloud. Conversation flowed fast and free after this. The young girl could talk brightly of her little life, and asked intelligent questions.

She began confidentially to question her guest about the ladies of the regiment, whereupon Falkenhein said abruptly: "Tell me, Reimers; you often go to the Guentzes', don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Of course Guentz is an old friend of yours. Do you know, I am much taken by his wife. She seems to me to be amiable, straightforward, sensible. We are neighbours; I should like Marie to see something of her. But they keep themselves to themselves rather, don't they?"

"Oh, not altogether. Only Guentz finds ordinary shallow society uncongenial."

"So do I, and so do you; eh, Reimers? But I see what you mean."

Next day Lieutenant Guentz and Frau Klaere called at the colonel's, and regular intercourse soon established itself between the neighbours. Marie von Falkenhein was secretly enraptured with Klaere Guentz and her "sweet baby"; while Klaere took to her heart the fair young girl who had so early lost a mother's love.

From this time the social status of the former governess was completely changed. Frau Lischke invited that "delightful" Frau Guentz to her select coffee parties. But Klaere excused herself on the plea that she was nursing her baby and could not be away from him for more than two hours together.

Later in the year, when the evenings were warmer, and it was tempting to linger in the open air, the neighbours took to meeting together for supper in one garden or the other. The occupants of Waisenhaus Strasse No. 55 and those of No. 57 alternately provided the comestibles.

Reimers was always free of the table. Once he triumphantly contributed a liver sausage with truffles; but he was ruthlessly snubbed by Klaere for bringing such a thing in the dog-days.

The little clique was much censured by the regiment. Such familiar intercourse, it was thought, undermined the authority of the colonel. Nevertheless, people were eager for the goodwill of Frau Guentz.

Thus it came about that Guentz had the satisfaction of seeing his wife one of the most popular ladies of the regiment, and was able to tease her with the new discovery that she was "exclusive, not to say stuck up and proud."

In reality Klaere had only become intimate with two of the ladies. After Marie von Falkenhein she foregathered chiefly with Hannah von Gropphusen.

The latter was a real puzzle to her new friends. She was always alternating in her moods from one extreme to the other. Sometimes she would not appear for weeks at a time; then she would come down day after day, each time seeming unable to tear herself away. Now she would be full of nervous, overwrought vivacity, and again would sit perfectly silent, staring gloomily before her.

Guentz fled from her presence; he said she made him feel creepy. Once he whispered mysteriously in his wife's ear: "Do you know, I believe she and Gropphusen have committed a murder between them: and this terrible bond holds them together, although they fight like cat and dog."

But Klaere strongly objected to such jokes. "How can you tell what that poor woman may have to bear? There may have been a murder in her history; but it was done by Gropphusen, and on her soul. Joke about something else, Fatty."

The happy young wife entertained the warmest sympathy for the other unhappy one, who always had the look of being pursued by some terrible evil. More than once a sisterly feeling impelled her, not from curiosity, but from genuine sympathy, to put a question to Hannah about her sorrow; but she read in the sombre, hopeless eyes of the sufferer that the burden must be borne alone; so she left Frau von Gropphusen in peace. She listened patiently when the nervous woman talked ceaselessly about a thousand different things, in short, jerky sentences as if to drown some inner voice; neither would Klaere interrupt with a single question the heavy silence in which, at other times, Hannah would sit for hours, watching her as she busied herself with her little housewifely tidyings and mendings. It was only in watching this peaceful activity that Frau von Gropphusen recovered her equanimity. Her face would then lose its unnatural fixity of expression, and she would draw a deep breath, as though eased of a heavy burden.

"It is so peaceful here with you, Frau Klaere," she said sometimes. "It does one good."

Guentz shook his head over her weird conduct. One thing gratified him concerning her, however: it was that she admired his little son unreservedly, and could be given no greater treat than to be allowed to hold the boy on her lap. She would sit as though worshipping the child, who, indeed, was no angel, only a quite ordinary, fat, chubby infant. At such times her small finely-chiselled features would light up with a glorious beauty; so that Guentz one day whispered to his wife, "Do you know what the Gropphusen needs? A child!"

And in his open-hearted way he once said jokingly to Hannah: "Wouldn't you like a beautiful boy like that for yourself, dear lady?"

At that Hannah Gropphusen sprang up wildly. Her hands shook so that she could scarcely hold the baby, whom Klaere snatched from her only just in time.

"I, a child?" she cried. "For the love of God, never, never!"

A look of horror was in her eyes. She held her hands before her face as though to shut out something horrible.

Guentz drew back shocked, and stole softly from the room, taking with him the baby, who had set up a mighty howling. Klaere put her arm round the trembling woman, led her to a seat, and soothed her like a child.

Sitting motionless, Frau von Gropphusen listened to the gentle, comforting sound of the words, without taking in their meaning, Suddenly she sprang up and said in a voice of enforced calm:

"Forgive me, dear kind Frau Klaere, for having caused such a disturbance. It is wrong of me not to be able to control myself better. Don't be vexed, or angry with me, but please just forget what has happened."

She began hurriedly to prepare for leaving. Her hands still shook as she pinned on her hat before the mirror.

"Let me go with you, dear Frau von Gropphusen," urged Klaere.

Hannah von Gropphusen, however, was smiling once more; though in sooth on her pallid countenance the smile had something of a ghastly look.

"No, no, Frau Klaere," she assured her; "I am better alone."

Once more saying, "Forgive me, won't you?" she departed.

Guentz meanwhile had not been able to quiet the little screamer, and was glad enough when Klaere took the child from him.

"What is the matter with her?" he asked.

Klaere shrugged her shoulders. "She did not tell me; perhaps she could not. The trouble may be too profound, too terrible."

"You have left her alone?"

"She has gone."

The senior-lieutenant looked out of window. His wife, with the baby in her arms, came and stood beside him.

"See!" he cried. "There she goes! Young, beautiful, rich, fashionable—has she not everything to make her happy?" And shaking his head he added, "Poor, poor woman!"

He vowed to himself not to make depreciatory remarks about the Gropphusen in the future. One thing, however, he felt he must impress on his wife: "Look here, Klaere," he cautioned her, "you won't let her hold the boy often, will you?"

With the returning spring Hannah von Gropphusen seemed to awaken from her depression. She had one great passion, to which she eagerly resorted as soon as the days became fit for it: this was tennis.

In their small garrison she had no real match; the only person who came anywhere near her was Reimers. He had, of course, been absent from the tennis club for a whole year, and she was all the more delighted at the approach of fine weather.

Frau von Gropphusen and Reimers were always the last to leave the ground, when the balls were often hardly discernible in the gathering twilight. She soon found that her opponent had, during his absence, come on very much in his play. At Cairo he had played with English people, acknowledged masters of the game; whilst she herself, through playing with indifferent performers, had lost much of her former facility; so now they were well matched.

Feeling this, Reimers played more easily and surely than of old, and consequently had greater leisure to remark what he had formerly been indifferent to—the beauty and grace of his opponent.

Meeting her during the winter in society, when she was as though bowed down by her secret sorrow, and took little part in the gay life around her, he had thought her looking older. But now, in the budding springtime, in the warm sunshine, animated by the game, she seemed to have bathed in the fountain of youth.

Her tennis costume—with which, of course, she wore no corset, but only a narrow belt—was very becoming: a light blouse, a mouse-coloured skirt, close fitting over the hips and not reaching to her ankles, grey silk stockings, and white suede shoes guiltless of heels.

The ladies of the regiment pronounced this attire "indecent"; though not one of them would have hesitated to dress similarly, if it had suited her as well as it did Frau von Gropphusen.

Frau Kauerhof (nee von Lueben) had indeed once attempted to appear in a like toilet, only her skirt was navy-blue. It was difficult to say wherein the difference consisted,—perhaps her skirt was a little longer than the other's,—but the whole effect was not so successful. And yet Frau Kauerhof was a pretty creature enough; not exactly slim, but rather of a blonde plumpness, and this was somewhat noticeable in her loose shirt. The glances of the young lieutenants dwelt rather insistently thereon. They were also able to make another interesting discovery. Frau Kauerhof's calves began immediately above her ankles. They were very fat calves.

Furthermore, Frau Kauerhof's white shoes advertised the fact that her feet were enormous. This the ladies decided with absolute unanimity; and they begged Frau Wegstetten, the highest in rank among the women tennis-players, to give her a hint.

That lady shrank from the commission. It was unpleasant to offend one whose papa was in the Ministry of War; and the situation might therefore have continued, perhaps to the satisfaction of the younger officers, if a fortunate chance had not brought Kauerhof himself to the tennis-ground.

He escorted his wife chivalrously home, and led her, without a word, to the mirror.

Her starched shirt was crumpled, and wet through with perspiration, also her shoes were trodden all out of shape.

"Dear Marion," he said, "I have no objection to your going to balls as decolletee as ever you please, for you are beautiful ..." and he kissed her neck; "but I do beg you not to exhibit yourself like this again."

Marion coloured and answered: "Yes, you're right, Hubby! Now I know why Froeben and Landsberg were staring at me so."

Then she pouted: "But Frau von Gropphusen looked nice dressed like this!"

Her husband answered quietly: "My child, 'quod licet Jovi, non licet bovi.'"

"What? What does that mean?"

Kauerhof translated gallantly, "You are prettier than the Gropphusen, my Marion; but she is thinner than you."

For one must be polite to a wife who is by birth a von Lueben, and the daughter of the head of a department in the War Office.

Reimers was not, like his comrades, accustomed to spend the greater part of his leisure in frivolity and flirting. It therefore never occurred to him to conceal his admiration for Frau von Gropphusen.

It often happened that he missed the easiest balls, fascinated in watching the movements and graceful attitudes of his opponent. Her feet, which even in the unflattering tennis-shoes looked small and dainty, seemed merely to skim over the ground like the wings of a passing swallow; and the most daring bounds and leaps, which in others would have been grotesque, she accomplished with the easy agility of a cat.

Reimers asked himself where his eyes had been that all this should hitherto have passed him unnoticed. He thought he had never seen anything so exquisite. But Hannah Gropphusen would scold him when he stood gazing thus in naive admiration.

"Herr Reimers," she would cry, "how inattentive you are. You must really look after the balls better!"

But when she noted the direction of his admiring glances, a delicate flush would overspread her face and mount to her white brow, on which a single premature furrow was curiously noticeable.

"You see, Herr Reimers," she said, one evening in May, "we are the last again."

The sun had just set. A light mist rising from the river was faintly coloured by the last red rays.

Frau von Gropphusen rested her foot on a garden chair and refastened the strap of her shoe. Reimers stood watching, with his racquet in his hand. The stooping posture, though unusual, was so graceful, that he said simply and with conviction, but without the least passion or sentimentality in his voice: "Dear lady, how wonderfully beautiful you are!"

Hannah von Gropphusen bent closer over her shoe-lace. She wanted to say something in reply just as simple as his own words had been; but she could find nothing except the banal rejoinder: "Please do not flatter me, Herr Reimers!" and her voice rang a little sharply.

They walked silently side by side towards the town, by the footpath across the meadows, and then along a little bit of the high-road until they came to the first houses.

Reimers was under a spell. He could not speak. He listened to the light rapid footfall that accompanied his longer stride to the rhythm of her silk-lined skirt as she walked; and as the evening breeze from the river wafted a faint perfume towards him, he thought of the lovely slender arm he had seen through the transparent material of her sleeve. This perfume must come from that fair soft skin. He felt a sudden longing to kiss the beautiful arms.

Frau von Gropphusen avoided looking at her companion. Once only she stole a glance at him with a shy, questioning, dubious expression. It chanced that Reimers was looking at her. Their eyes met, and parted reluctantly.

At the garden gate he kissed her hand in farewell. She started a little and said with an assumption of gaiety, "Heavens! what can have come to us? On a warm spring evening like this our hands are as cold as ice!"

Reimers hastened homewards, much perturbed in spirit. He was due at the Guentzes' to supper at half-past eight. It had already struck the hour, and he had yet to dress; for the colonel, who would probably be there too, objected to see his officers in mufti, except when shooting or some great sporting occasion was the excuse.

He found everything ready to his hand. Gaehler was very satisfactory and most thoughtful, even to setting a bottle of red wine and a carafe of cool spring water on a table. A glass of water with a dash of wine in it was the best thing to quench one's thirst after playing tennis.

He hastily tossed off a glassful. It cooled him wonderfully. He poured out a second and drank it more slowly. The water was so cold as to dew the glass, yet it seemed powerless to quench the fire which consumed his throat, his breast, his head.

He began to dress hurriedly. He had but a few minutes. He was ready but for his coat, when suddenly everything around him seemed to vanish into endless distance. He felt loosed from time and space.

Mechanically he let himself slip into a chair, covering his face with his hands and closing his eyes.

He thought of Hannah von Gropphusen. How beautiful she was! How marvellously beautiful! He thought of that one look she had bestowed on him; of the silent question spoken by her lovely shy eyes. He guessed it to be: "Shall I really be happy once more? Dare I hope it? Is it indeed you who will bring me happiness?" Out of an unfathomable abyss of doubt and misery she appealed to him thus.

How unhappy was this woman! and how beautiful!

The door opened. Gaehler came in.

"What do you want?" demanded Reimers.

"Beg pardon, sir," stammered the fellow, "I thought you were ready."

He held in his hand his master's cap and sabre.

"All right, give them to me!"

The lieutenant quickly completed his toilet, and hurried away to Waisenhaus Strasse.

His passion for Frau von Gropphusen increased day by day. He took no pains to combat it. True, his beloved was the wife of another, of a brother-officer; but he did not even in thought desire to draw nearer to her, and, should ever the temptation arise, he believed himself strong enough to resist it.

Indeed, no words passed between them that might not have been overheard by a third party. At their meeting and parting there was no meaning pressure of the hand; only their glances betrayed the secret understanding of a mighty, burning love: the deep sorrow of the one, and the sweet, tender consolation of the other.

Needless to say, the gossips of the garrison were soon busy over such a welcome morsel. Since the Gropphusen's flirtation with Major Schrader a winter ago, she had furnished no cause of scandal. All the busier now were the evil tongues.

It was not long before the subalterns began to make more or less pointed remarks, half jestingly, to Reimers.

Little Dr. von Froeben shook his finger at him, and let fly a solitary shaft: "Aye, aye, still waters run deep!" he said.

Landsberg actually congratulated him. "Happy you!" he cried with mock sorrow, "as for me——" And he proceeded crudely to extol the physical charms of Frau von Gropphusen—"that rattling fine woman," as he called her.

Reimers shut him up sharply.

These attacks ended by opening his eyes to the comparative jejuneness of his own outlook on life.

"You are an extraordinary young idealist," the colonel had said to him not long before; Reimers began to think so too. Concerning a woman whose favours were to be bought, one might think as did Landsberg; but not concerning a lady of social standing. It never occurred to him to think whether Frau von Gropphusen was or was not high-bosomed; he only knew that she was lovely.

He would dearly have liked to knock down that reptile Landsberg. But that would only have caused a scandal, which, for the dear woman's sake, must not be.

He avoided her somewhat. No one should speak ill of her on his account. He absented himself from the tennis-ground, and when he appeared there did not play exclusively with her.

Hannah Gropphusen felt crushed. She did not understand him. What matter if the gossips did amuse themselves at her expense? And with falsehoods, too! She was used to it, and had a sufficiently thick skin not to feel the stings of such insects. Was he going to turn from her for such a reason as this? From her, who would gladly have thrown herself at his feet, saying, "Leave me your love; I only live through you"?

A choking sob clutched at her throat. In order not to feel herself utterly overcome, she went to all the biggest parties, and mingled in the gayest company. She would be talkative and noisy, merely to make him aware of her presence. A wild desire seized her to make him notice her at any cost, even at the risk of wounding him; yes, she wished to wound him.

She flirted outrageously; uttering in shrill, tremulous tones loathsome things which were monstrous in her mouth.

One evening she lingered on the recreation-ground with Reimers and Landsberg, to the latter of whom she, by preference, directed her unnatural merriment during this miserable period—just because she knew that Reimers hated him. And the booby Landsberg was deeply flattered by it.

They were resting a little before turning homewards. Landsberg had thrown himself down on the grass, and was gazing fixedly upwards.

Reimers disapproved of the attitude, thinking it too cavalier altogether, and glowered at him. Unintentionally he followed the direction of his brother-officer's gaze.

Hannah von Gropphusen had seated herself upon a chair, carelessly crossing her legs so that the grey silk stockings were visible from ankle to knee. Presently she became conscious of Landsberg's regard; she moved disdainfully, and slowly rearranged her skirt.

Reimers felt furious. He longed to kick the offending youth. He sprang to his feet. He felt he must break some-thing, destroy something, dash something to pieces. Tremblingly he swung his racquet, as if to hurl it at the fellow's head. But suddenly his arm dropped to his side; he had twisted his wrist. The racquet fell from his hand.

"What's the matter?" asked Frau von Gropphusen.

"Nothing," he answered roughly. "Excuse me, I must say good-night."

He bowed stiffly. All grew dark before his eyes. He saw dimly that the lady had risen.

For a moment she stood perplexed. Then she said in a much softer voice: "But won't you see me home to-night, Herr Reimers?"

"I am at your service," he answered.

Landsberg hastened to take his departure, and the two followed him slowly.

Black clouds lowered overhead; now and then a gust of wind swept over the fields.

Reimers quickened his pace.

Once only Hannah Gropphusen broke the silence: "You have hurt your hand?" she asked.

"Yes—no—I don't know."

It was almost dark when they reached her garden gate.

"Show me your hand," she said gently.

Reimers held it out to her in silence. His wrist was a good deal swollen.

Hannah bent down suddenly and breathed a hasty kiss on the injured member. When she raised her head again tears were running down her cheeks.

Reimers stooped a little. He seized her cool white fingers and kissed them lingeringly. "Hannah!" he murmured.

She tenderly stroked his brow and bent her head sadly. Then he left her.

When he had gone some distance he looked back. All was dark. A flash of lightning shimmered on the horizon. It revealed an indistinct figure, which was instantly swallowed up again by the darkness.

"Nothing much, old man," pronounced the surgeon-major, when he had examined the injury. "You have strained it a bit. A tight bandage and an application of arnica. You can go on duty, but you will not be able to play tennis for the present."

In any case there would have been an end to that, as the order to start for the practice-camp had already been issued.

Reimers learnt from his comrades that Frau von Gropphusen appeared no more at the tennis club. It was said that she was not well and was going away to some watering-place or other. There was much chuckling over the news. "There has been a split," opined the gossips.

Reimers did not care. He knew better.

But the quartette at the supper-table in Waisenhaus Strasse did not seem displeased with the way in which things had turned out.

Formerly, if he came late to supper, and excused himself on the plea of having been detained at tennis, there had been a fatal air of constraint, which would only gradually wear off; sometimes even lasting the whole evening.

Now they received him at once with their old cordiality; they did not believe in his sprain, taking it to be but a convenient pretext. He made as much of it as he could. He showed the swelling; but, to be sure, it had nearly gone down, and he still was not believed.

Finally, an amazing thing happened. Frau Klaere had been taking a turn in the garden one evening with Marie Falkenhein, when she was called in to her baby. On his way out, Reimers encountered the colonel's daughter alone. He said good-night to her politely.

The young girl looked him full in the face with her clear grey eyes, and said: "I am very glad, Lieutenant Reimers, that you have put an end to that hateful gossip. It distressed me, on Frau von Gropphusen's account, and also on yours, to have to hear horrid things said, and not to be able to contradict them."

Reimers bowed and withdrew, in his astonishment forgetting to take leave of Frau Klaere. Marie Falkenhein had spoken so warmly and heartily, had looked at him so kindly and honestly, that he felt quite overcome.

It struck him that the man who should win this maiden for his bride would find through her an assured and tranquil happiness; there was a sense of security in her steady gaze. Yet behind the clear placid eyes of the young girl he saw the sorrowful orbs of the unhappy woman he loved. He saw the heavy tears coursing down her white cheeks, as she stood motionless in the fleeting gleam of the lightning ere she vanished in the darkness of night.



CHAPTER VII

"Now off and away, lads, With merry sound of horn!" (Methfessel.)

The lithographed regimental orders for May 31, the Saturday before Whitsuntide, contained the following announcement:

"On June 3, at 6.30 A.M., the regiment will be ready in the Waisenhaus Strasse to march to the practice-camp in the following order: Batteries 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Corps of trumpeters and band.

* * * * * * * * * *

"On no pretext whatever will leave be granted for Whitsuntide. It is to be duly notified to the troops that their Whitsuntide leave—cancelled for official reasons—may be made good, so far as they deserve it, after the gun-practice.... Night-passes may be granted for Whitsun-Day. (Signed) "VON FALKENHEIN, "Colonel and Commandant."

The news that no leave would be granted for Whitsuntide drew deep curses from many of the recruits. They would have liked to go home and exhibit themselves in uniform to their friends and relations. But what was the good of swearing? they had to submit.

The two friends, Vogt and Klitzing, were much upset in their calculations. They had got on so well together that Vogt had asked his father if he might bring his friend home with him. Still, it was only put off; better luck next time! They did not apply for night-leave on the Sunday, as neither of them found any pleasure in spinning round hot dancing-saloons with any women they could pick up. Weise, on the contrary, was quite at home under such circumstances, and had managed to find himself a sweetheart directly permission was granted the recruits to go into the town. It is true she was neither pretty nor particularly youthful; but then she never failed to pay for all his drinks, and when he had promised to marry her she had even bought him new regimentals.

Vogt had taken a favourable opportunity of begging Sergeant Wiegandt to put him and Klitzing together, when, on the completion of their preliminary training, the men were grouped into detachments. Wiegandt had not only acceded to the request, but had taken them both to serve on his own gun, the sixth; Klitzing, with his sharp eyes, as gun-layer, or No. 2; Vogt as No. 1, whose duty it was to fire.

And now they sat, this Whitsun-Tuesday, side by side on the gun-carriage, with the muzzle of the gun between them; and when Wegstetten called out in his clear, strident voice, "Battery, mount!" Vogt whispered gaily across to Klitzing, "Now we're off!" as the long procession of thirty-six guns and six ammunition-waggons began slowly to move.

It was not half bad to be riding along like this. Certainly, the gunners' seats were not provided with cushions, and the guns were not mounted on C-springs; but the shaking and jolting were not very great on the smooth high-road, it was only when the wheels crunched over newly-strewn rubble that their seats vibrated roughly under them.

There had, fortunately, been a heavy thundershower on the previous afternoon, and it had washed the roads clear of dust. Now the sun shone mildly, the air was fresh after the rain; what could be better than to get out into the country on such a day? Vogt and Klitzing rolled along contentedly on their hard-seated chariot, between the white-blossoming cherry-trees which bordered the highway.

Their halting place for the night was a large farm, where were quartered the fifth and sixth guns and the ammunition waggon, one sergeant, one trumpeter, two corporals, twenty-one men, and twenty horses. The farmer's entertainment left nothing to be desired. The litter for the beds was thick and soft; clean sheets were laid over the straw; and there were warm blankets for covering. For supper there were two gigantic hams and many other dainties, a meal for the gods; and the noble peasant had even provided beer and cigars. The second day's march had a no less successful ending. Vogt and Klitzing were quartered together on a cottager, and though the poor fellow did not even own a cow, the older men proved right who had told them that the poor were generally better hosts than the rich.

On the third day the regiment was to arrive at the practice camp. The country now became more level. The black soil gradually lightened in tint; green copses gave place to pine-woods; stretches of barren sandy waste land appeared more and more frequently between the cornfields. At last a flat table-land was reached, bounded in the far distance by an immense forest; and on a still nearer approach isolated white houses could be descried on the forest's edge, while on one side a tall water-tower reared itself high above the level ground.

Captain von Wegstetten ordered his men to halt and dismount. The sixth battery had arrived the first.

Further back along the road just traversed and also on a neighbouring highway the other batteries were seen slowly approaching. At length the commandants of the two divisions arrived with their adjutants, and finally the colonel with his staff. He received the reports of the staff-officers, and then after a short interval placed himself at the head of his regiment.

The long line of men, horses and vehicles, with the band preceding them, then entered the encampment. The sentry at the gate had to present arms so incessantly that he became quite exhausted. A considerable time elapsed before the last officer had passed in.

The guns and carriages were taken to the gun-park. The horses were unharnessed, and the knapsacks unfastened from the guns. Then the drivers made their way to the stables, and the gunners to their barracks. The quartermaster had pointed out his place to every one, so that each man had only to take possession of his cupboard and his bed.

The young soldiers, who had never been in camp before, gazed about with much interest. Things, on the whole, looked very inviting. A wide road with broad footpaths on either side traversed the whole camp, almost further than the eye could see, and along it stood the barracks on the left, and the stables on the right. The houses were all alike; in the middle a square one-storied building, and running out from it a wing containing lofty, airy rooms for the men, open to the wooden rafters that supported the slated roof. At the back were covered verandas, in which, during bad weather, instruction could be carried on and the roll called. Beyond these outbuildings began the outskirts of the wood, beautiful stately pines growing thick and close. The resinous scent of pine-needles was wafted into the rooms through the open windows.

"Heinrich," said Vogt to Klitzing, "this is just like a summer holiday for us, isn't it? Isn't this air splendid?"

The clerk stopped his unpacking for a moment and drew in a deep breath of the invigorating odour.

"Oh yes," he answered; "we can do with this all right!"

However, it was not a "summer holiday" by any means, and the two friends found that out soon enough. There was a lot of real hard work to do during these weeks; but it was all done with a good will. Actual gun-practice was a very different thing from that dull work in garrison with blank cartridges.

The magazine where the ammunition was stored lay at some little distance from the other buildings, near the gun-park, and was surrounded by a thick high wall of earth. One realised from this how dangerous were its contents. But the store-men, who gave out the shrapnel-shells and the fuses, went about their work as if regardless of the fact that in each one of these lurked death and destruction. And yet in every shrapnel-shell were a couple of hundred bullets that could easily put a whole company hors de combat.

The beginning of the gun-practice did not, however, seem likely to be very dangerous. Only twenty-four shrapnel, i.e., six shots for each gun, were given out next morning. It was a first experience, meant especially for the younger officers, and Lieutenant Landsberg was to command the battery.

The men were very curious to know what he would make of it. The affected young dandy was extremely unpopular with every one. Besides which, he was clearly not blessed with much intelligence; for at garrison-drill more reproofs and reprimands were showered upon him alone than upon all the rest of the battery put together. Again and again would Wegstetten's trumpet-tones ring across the parade-ground: "Lieutenant Landsberg, you are not in your right place!" "Lieutenant Landsberg, you are allowing too much distance!" The little captain had sworn many a fierce oath as he galloped to and fro on his long-legged "Walkuere": "Lieutenant Landsberg! attention, please. What in thunder are you about?" or "Good God, sir! don't go to sleep! Time's getting on!"

And to-day he was to command the whole battery. Wegstetten took the precaution of accompanying the young man himself, so that he might be able to come to the rescue in case of necessity.

He was soon needed. The battery started from the gun-park and left the camp, turning off the road and crossing the heather towards the broad level stretch of the exercise-ground.

Suddenly Landsberg's snapping voice crowed out: "Battery, halt!" and immediately afterwards: "Open with shrapnel!"

The men grinned at one another.

Two or three of the gunners got down and stood there, quite at a loss. They ought to load; yet the word of command, "Prepare for action!" had not been given. And how could they load when the seats and the limber-boxes were still locked, and when the gun was still covered?

The clever lieutenant had forgotten the word of command that should properly have been given before leaving the gun-park. And the best of it was that he didn't even now notice what was wrong.

Wegstetten, close at hand, kept quite still. He had taken his feet out of the stirrups and was swinging his short legs carelessly to and fro. His eyes flashed scorn as he looked at the hapless lieutenant.

"Well, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "if I were one of the men myself I shouldn't know what to do either."

The lieutenant raised his spotlessly gloved hand to his helmet and replied, "Yes, sir." But as yet no solution of the riddle had dawned on him.

Then at last the captain sat upright in his saddle, and his clear voice rang out over the battery: "Prepare for action!"

It put life into the men at once, and all set about their various duties with the utmost zeal.

Wegstetten turned to the subaltern, who stood stupidly looking on, and said, "Well, Lieutenant Landsberg, you may take over the command again now."

Truchsess, the brewer, as No. 4 of gun six, brought out the shrapnel very gingerly. How easily such stuff as that might go off!

The old hands had gruesome tales to tell of accidents that had happened during gun-practice. Once while being loaded, a gun had prematurely exploded backwards, making a great hole through gunner No. 3, right through his chest, a hole just the same size as the bore of the gun. As the corpse was being carried away afterwards the sun shone right through it; so that in the middle of the shadow cast by the body was a bright round spot exactly the same size and shape as the bore of a gun.

The brewer could not help thinking of this as he very cautiously pushed the shrapnel into the bore. Klitzing, however, shoved it vigorously with the rammer, so that its metal casing clinked against the inside of the gun.

"Now then, old fellow, easy on! The thing might go off!" whispered Truchsess.

But Klitzing only smiled, and the brewer sullenly thought to himself, "Well, if that clerk has no use for his life, I have for mine, anyhow!"

Carefully he pushed in the cartridge, and heaved a sigh of relief as the lock slipped back once more. At any rate, it couldn't explode at the back now and hit him.

The battery now started again and went on at an easy trot to the exercise-ground. In the midst of a luxuriant growth of heather they unlimbered. It was a wonderful picture, the guns and the scattered gunners on that peaceful sea of purple. The waves of blossom reached nearly to the axles of the blue wheels and above the knees of the men, and closed over the trail of the gun-carriage as it passed. The men had to make their way through the heather almost as if it had been a wood.

"Open with shrapnel! Straight in front! At the battery before the guide-post at the edge of the wood. Third gun! Two thousand eight hundred!" commanded Lieutenant Landsberg. "Fire from left flank! Fire from left flank!"—that meant that gun six should begin; that of the whole regiment it was to have the honour of firing the first shot in this year's practice.

Klitzing, as gun-layer, set the sight in a twinkling to 2800 yards, got astride the box, and laid the gun in the right direction.

The enemy's battery was not very hard to find. The young officer had not been given too difficult a task. Far away over the heath, where the sand gleamed yellow in the distance, six dark, rather broad patches showed up against the light ground, each surrounded by smaller objects. They were the six guns that were to be attacked, with the dummy men belonging to them. It was Sergeant Wiegandt's duty to verify the aim; he gave a satisfied nod, and then the word of command, "Gun six, fire!"

Upon which the men sprang out of the way of the backward recoil of the carriage, and Vogt, with a jerk of the body, pulled the lanyard and fired.

There was a loud report, and the gun rolled heavily back quite eight paces. In another moment it was moved into its original place again.

After a few seconds, far away on the heath, a light cloud of dust rose into the air, as if a giant's hand had stirred up the sand, and immediately afterwards—almost at the same moment—all the dark patches disappeared in a dense grey cloud of smoke. When this had cleared away, the dummies on the left of the gun had vanished, and the gun itself appeared to have been damaged, as it was leaning over on one side.

The first shot had hit the mark full. This simply showed that excellent aim had been taken. The actual distance had corresponded exactly with the calculation. Still, it caused great satisfaction.

Colonel von Falkenhein, on his big chestnut, was stationed near by. He had been watching the target through his field-glasses, and a scarcely audible exclamation had escaped him as he saw the splinters flying about through the smoke.

Turning to the battery he called out a short "Bravo, gun-layer!"

Wegstetten, who had dismounted near him, smiled. Well, at any rate, battery six was all right, even when commanded by a noodle!

The shooting went on steadily. Now the distance had been ascertained the shrapnels were fired off by means of time-fuses; and they exploded regularly each time over the mark, the little clouds of smoke showing up picturesquely against the dark background of the wood. Over there it was as if heavy raindrops were falling on a dusty road; everywhere little columns of sand were spurting up into the air.

After the first shot the men lost all nervousness. Even Truchsess took hold of the shells quite courageously; and when the twenty-four that had been served out to them were used up, the men would willingly have gone on longer.

In the criticism of the result Landsberg came out well. He had had four good hits from one shrapnel—a very fair result; mainly due, of course, to the luck of the first shot, which by itself would have placed all the men belonging to one of the enemy's guns hors de combat.

The lieutenant's face took on a self-satisfied expression, which seemed to say: "Of course from me nothing less could have been expected."

Falkenhein, who always kept a watchful eye on each one of his officers, and who up to that moment had not heard much in favour of this young man, thought it best to take down his pride a little.

"You know, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, "your commanding officer made things very easy for you. As the youngest officer in the regiment you had the lightest task. Remember that in taking credit to yourself; and let me tell you that they won't build such barn-doors for you to aim at next year!"

Upon which he turned pleasantly to Wegstetten and asked: "Did you ride over and see that target, my dear Wegstetten?—I mean the one that was hit full?"

"Yes, sir; the shrapnel must have exploded almost inside the gun."

"I thought so. Capital thing, the very first shot of the year being such a good one. No one like you for that, Wegstetten!"

The captain smiled, much gratified, and modestly answered, "A bit of good luck, sir!"

But the colonel continued, more seriously: "Well, partly luck, perhaps. Just one thing more, my dear Wegstetten. That gun-layer who made the lucky shot—has he been ill? He looked pretty bad to me—like a perfect death's-head."

Wegstetten gave as many particulars about the man as he himself knew, and Reimers added some information, Landsberg meanwhile standing by in silence.

"It is really you, Lieutenant Landsberg, who ought to be telling me all this," said Falkenhein with some warmth. "You trained the recruits, and therefore ought to know all about them." Then, turning to Wegstetten: "If the man is as capable as I hear," he continued, "you might manage to make things a bit easier for him."

"Yes, sir," the captain hastened to reply. "I had been thinking of employing him in the autumn as assistant clerk."

This was not true. To think of such details so long beforehand was impossible, even for the commander of the most efficient battery in the whole army-corps. But it served its purpose. Falkenhein nodded pleasantly: "Quite right, my dear Wegstetten. You have hit the bull's-eye again! You see one can never deal with men all in a lump; you must take them separately. Some best serve the king with their sturdy arms and legs, but your gun-layer with his eyes and pen." He then raised his hand to his helmet, and the two men parted.

As they all repaired to their respective quarters they had very different thoughts in their minds. Reimers was full of admiration: "What a man is that," thought he, "who, with all his heavy duties, yet occupies himself with the insignificant destiny of a poor devil of a gunner!"

Wegstetten's face wore a rather self-satisfied smile. "One must speak up for oneself, and not hide one's light under a bushel! Better say too much than too little. In doing one's superior officer a small service, one may be doing the greatest of all to oneself."

Landsberg said to himself, with a sneer: "The man prates about that whipper-snapper of a gunner nearly as much as about my splendid firing. And so that's the celebrated Colonel von Falkenhein!"

Next day almost all the men would have liked to go on with the shell-firing; but the subsequent cleaning of the guns was not at all to their taste. The smokeless powder left in the bore of the gun a horrid, sticky slime that must not be allowed to remain there. This meant sousing with clean water again and again, washing out with soft soap, and then going on pumping and working with the mop until the water came out again as clean as it had gone in.

"Now, boys," Sergeant Wiegandt used to say, "if you don't feel inclined to drink the water as it comes out of the gun, then that means it isn't clean enough yet. So go ahead!"

And then the drying afterwards! They had to wrap rags and cloths round the mop until it was so thick that it would scarcely go through the muzzle of the gun. If this were not done the inside edges and corners remained wet; and one spot of rust on the bright metal—well! that would be almost as bad as murder! So they had to push and to twist, to pull and to drag, till the perspiration streamed from their foreheads. Finally the barrel was thinly oiled; and the next day the firing took place once more, and then there was the drudgery of the cleaning all over again.

Yet the men endured these exertions far better than the garrison life. This was partly owing to the variety of the work; but, above all, the greatest torment of a soldier's life had been left behind,—that monotonous drilling under which all groaned, and the object of which no one could ever pretend to understand. Even the dullest—to say nothing of Vogt with his simple, sound common-sense—could see that the gun-practice here in the practice-camp was the most important part of the whole training. What the men had already learnt was now found out practically. But where did the parade-marching and all the other display drill come in?

Here was Klitzing, who in the garrison had been looked on as the most feeble soldier of the lot, now all at once distinguishing himself! Vogt shook his head as he thought it over.

He often felt glad that at any rate he was an artilleryman, for others had a much worse time of it. A few days earlier an infantry regiment had moved into the neighbouring barracks; and looking through the palings of their parade-ground they could see the battalions exercising.

There was a yellow, dried-up looking major who was never, never satisfied. He would keep his battalion at it in the sun till past noon; and then after a short pause for refreshment the same cruel business would begin all over again. The devil! How could a couple of hundred men be as symmetrical as a machine?

The artillery-drivers had climbed on to the fence. They were polishing their curbs and chains, and laughed at the spectacle before them. But to Vogt it did not seem amusing. What was the use of making those two hundred men do such childish things there on the parade-ground? Would they ever march into battle like that? He thought of how those dummies had all been riddled by the bullets when a single shrapnel burst in front of them. Why, it would be sheer madness! They would have to crawl, to run, to jump—then to crawl again! That wasn't what they were doing when every morning on the parade-ground one heard a continual tack—tack—tack—tack, as if a thousand telegraph clerks were hard at work. What was the good of all this senseless show, which only aggravated the men?

Their comrades of the infantry looked very far from cheerful, and darted glances full of suppressed hatred at the yellow-faced major. And when, dead-tired, they had finished the drill, and were putting away their guns in the corner, they would curse the very uniform they wore as if it had been a strait-waistcoat.

Certainly it was not necessary to agree in everything with a social-democrat like Weise; but there was no doubt what-ever that he was perfectly right about some things. In the evenings, when the non-commissioned officers were sitting in the canteen, the men took their stools out on the open veranda that looked over the forest; and then Weise would begin to hold forth, his comrades, either smoking or cleaning their clothes and accoutrements, grouped round him listening to his orations. When some of the men, fresh from the country, complained of the hard work there, the endless long hours, and the small pay, he laughed outright.

"Why do you allow your landed-proprietors to treat you so?" he scoffed. "Why are you so stupid? Of course if you won't utter a word of protest you don't deserve anything better."