Heimert watched them closely; every word, every movement, almost every look. But his suspicions were not justified. Heppner was polite, easy, and perfectly unconstrained; while Albina chatted easily and naturally, and accepted the homage of their guest with a kind of haughty tranquillity. Towards her husband she displayed quite unusual tenderness, so long as the sergeant-major was present.

Heimert was somewhat rea.s.sured by this. When Heppner rose to take leave Heimert would fling his arm confidently about Albina's waist, with a gesture which seemed to say: "You see, my wife is my own. I have her and hold her, and you won't get her, however much you may covet her.

That's the right of possession. And so it will be, no matter how much you may hate and envy me. And when you have gone I shall claim my rights, and this woman must obey my will."

The sergeant-major read this defiance plainly in Heimert's face, and it had the effect of causing him to swear inwardly that he would seduce his comrade's wife.

In the middle of May Ida bore a child,--a fat, strong, healthy boy, weighing nine pounds. A splendid weight for a new-born baby!

At first the sergeant-major rather fancied himself as a father. Every one said that the fine boy was his living image. Certainly there was no need to be ashamed of being seen with such a child. Of course this son of his should be a soldier, an artilleryman. He should learn to ride as soon as he could sit on the saddle, and woe to him if he showed any fear!

Ida was happy beyond measure, and there could not have been a tenderer or more careful mother. Motherhood awoke in her much that had hitherto been unapparent in her somewhat stolid nature.

Heppner thought her little occupations silly and tiresome. The first sight of his boy at the healthy young mother's breast seemed to him charming enough. But before long he was continually scolding Ida for her over-indulgence of the child, telling her he would grow up a milksop, always hanging on to his mother's skirts.

And it soon bored him to be much with the child. If one wanted to rest the youngster was sure to start whining and squalling or if one felt inclined to play with him, to tickle his fat sides and toss him in the air, he was certain to have just dropped off to sleep, and Ida would stand sentinel over him, not suffering him to be disturbed at any price. She, indeed, seemed now to be nothing but mother, and to have forgotten altogether that she was also a wife.

Heppner consequently redoubled his attentions to Frau Heimert.

Albina could not endure little children, and took no interest whatever in his remarkable baby. This he thought rather stupid of her; nevertheless the Bohemian girl completely turned his head.

Uninvited, he constantly dropped in now on the Heimerts "to smoke a cigar with the deputy sergeant-major," as he said. Almost shamelessly he pursued his object, grossly flattering Albina, and making risky jokes with her.

Heimert sat by nearly choking with rage. He hardly knew why he did not seize the seducer by the throat. But the culprits would have a complete defence ready. Was it not all mere harmless jesting? Whatever anguish of jealousy he might feel, he must wait for fuller evidence.

And into the midst of the laughter would come through the thin walls now the cry of the infant, and then the low singing of Ida as she lulled her little one to sleep.

Albina wished to enjoy her revenge to the full. During the winter the sergeant-major had treated her as a cast-off love; he should suffer awhile for that. She exercised all her arts to augment his pain; it gave her a half fearful, half delicious pleasure to note his impatience.

One evening Heppner seized an opportunity when he imagined himself alone with her. He caught her head in his hands almost savagely and pressed a wild, pa.s.sionate kiss on her lips. Albina's defiant resolution broke down; she returned his kiss with equal pa.s.sion.

Heimert, standing in the dark kitchen, screened by the door, saw it all.

He had been to fetch a bottle of beer, now he suddenly re-entered the room.

"There's no beer, Albina," he said; "you must have been mistaken."

He sat down slowly at the table, and drummed gently with his fingers on a plate. The guilty pair were as if stunned by the fervour of their embrace; though little suspecting that the betrayed husband had witnessed it. They did not respond to his remark, and seemed lost to time and s.p.a.ce. Neither did they notice that a long, oppressive silence had fallen on them, that the lamp was burning low, and the room darkening.

At last Heimert drew out his watch. "It's time to go to bed," he said; "we've got to get up to-morrow morning."

Heppner and Albina awoke suddenly from their entranced condition, and the sergeant-major hastened to say good night.

Quickly Albina prepared for bed. Usually she went through many ceremonies with a view to preserving her beauty: she rubbed her skin with lanoline, or sprinkled it with powder, to keep it soft and smooth; she spread a perfumed emollient on her hands, afterwards drawing on gloves to prevent them from losing their whiteness with rough work. But to-night she merely loosened her hair, and was between the sheets in a trice.

Heimert lay sleepless. Hour after hour he heard strike; the short May night seemed to him an eternity.

The woman beside him had sunk into a deep slumber. Now and then her breathing quickened, and she gave almost a gasp, flinging herself about as though in a troubled dream.

With the dawn of morning Heimert came to a decision. He would not allow himself to believe in Albina's guilt. He had noticed that when Heppner threw his arm around her she had shrunk from him. (This was true enough; Albina had winced; but it was on account of her artistically dressed hair.) She had submitted, he forced himself to think, in the paralysis of surprise. In such a case Heppner, no doubt, would have scolded his wife for not confessing. By right she ought certainly to have told her husband. But Heimert found a thousand excuses for her.

Albina knew his jealousy, and desired, possibly, to avoid scandal, which would have been inevitable had she told him. Or perhaps she would speak to him about it after she had thought it over quietly by herself.

Or, again, she might intend to deal with the sergeant-major in her own way. Or, once more, perhaps she was just beginning to yield to the temptation.

That was as might be. Anyhow, the affront was there: his wife had been insulted, and he, Heimert, must obtain satisfaction. He would set about it quite quietly, so as to avoid the gossip; but between men such an injury must mean a duel.

The officers always acted on that principle, and what was right for them must be right for the non-coms., who also wore swords at their sides. But all the ceremonial of a court of honour and seconds was not necessary among common folk like Heppner and himself. Alone, without witnesses, as man to man they would fight it out.

Heimert thought at first of selecting swords as the weapons; but their swords were not sharpened, and it might attract attention if he had them put in order. Besides, he thought it more becoming to use pistols when such a weighty matter as the honour of a husband was in question.

It was a piece of good luck that some years before he had picked up a couple of live cartridges after a shooting-practice.

Now he handled the little things with a grim satisfaction. They were not quite so small as those of the infantry, for the regulation revolver had a range of ten millimetres. The bra.s.s cases had grown a little dull, so he rubbed them until they shone.

Nothing more was wanting. The duel could take place.

The only remaining difficulties were locality and time; but concerning these also Heimert soon decided. Sloping up behind the barracks, the road led straight to an open bit of overhanging ground. There could not be a better spot. And of course the affair could only take place at night. He consulted the calendar: in two days there would be a full moon, so they would have light enough to see each other clearly at ten paces. The moon rose shortly before ten o'clock; she would be high in the heavens by midnight.

At daybreak the deputy sergeant-major went about his duty, cool and punctual as usual, only taking pains to avoid meeting Heppner. He did not wish to see him until the evening,--or, better still, till night,--so that the duel might follow immediately upon their interview.

He knew the sergeant-major would not flinch, but would fall in with his arrangements. Heppner was no coward.

Albina behaved just as usual during the day, and said nothing to her husband about the kiss. But that, of course, made no difference to Heimert's plans. He learned from the stablemen that Heppner would be at the White Horse with Blechschmidt, the sergeant-major of the fifth, that evening. That was capital. He would catch him as he came home, and the affair would be arranged in two minutes.

Heimert ate his supper in silence. Albina imagined that he had had words with the captain or somebody, and did not bother him with questions. After she had cleared the table, she sat down to read the sensational _feuilleton_ of the local daily paper, eating pralines all the while. Then she performed her evening toilet and went to bed. It was not yet nine o'clock; but that did not matter. She liked lying in bed.

On the stroke of nine Heimert heard the sergeant-major go out. In the corridor he caught some of the men larking about without their caps, and rebuked them sharply. Then he clanked down the stairs, and all was still.

Heimert carried the lamp to the table in the window and sat down to write. In order to pa.s.s the time until Heppner should return, he was going to check the shoeing account in his register by the entries in the ordnance books. In his slow, neat handwriting he inscribed one careful entry after another, and became so absorbed by his task that he never even heard the tattoo. When he looked up from the books it was already past eleven; but that was all right, for the sergeant-major was safe not to be going home till midnight.

Heimert opened the window and looked out. It had rained during the day, and now all nature seemed to be sprouting and budding. The odour of the young fresh green things was wafted in by a breath of wind, which gently swayed the cotton curtains. Forest and hills were illuminated by the brilliant moonlight; and like a white ribbon the foot-path climbed the steep ascent behind the barracks, till it lost itself in the shadows of a thicket. On the gra.s.sy slope stood a group of young birches, their white stems gleaming, and their shimmering leaves--still wet from the rain--shining as though made of silver.

Heimert gazed at it all with no thought for the beauty of the May night. He was glad that the moon shone so brightly, as he would be able to see his man with ease in such a light.

He fetched his revolver, and returning to the window looked across at the notice-board opposite, which threatened trespa.s.sers in the barracks or parade-ground with "a fine of sixty marks or five days'

imprisonment." The white-lettered notice-board was fixed to the trunk of a beech-tree by a huge nail, and at the head of this nail Heimert took careful aim.

Satisfied, he laid down the pistol and returned to the table. But almost immediately he jumped up again and took a light out into the corridor. Yes, Heppner's revolver was in its usual place on the rack.

He took the weapon with him into the kitchen, and sat down once more.

Just midnight! The twelve strokes were sounding slowly from the great clock of the barracks.

Heimert still waited. After a little his head sank down on the table, and he fell asleep.

At half-past two Heppner came home. He had had a run of bad luck at the White Horse, had lost over a hundred marks, and that amount was now missing from the battery cash-box. He was quite overcome by this sudden misfortune. As if stunned he groped his way home to the barracks, scarcely seeing where he was going, stumbling at times over his sword, or entangling himself with his spurs.

When he rang at the gate for admittance he was ready to fly into a pa.s.sion. He thought he had not heard the ringing of the bell, and he began to rage at somebody's carelessness in not having a broken bell mended on the instant. But the corporal on guard opened to him; so the bell was all right, and the sound must have escaped him. He stumbled over the threshold.

The corporal gazed after him in astonishment. Was the sergeant-major asleep or awake? He had staggered past with wide-open, staring eyes, like a sleep-walker. Perhaps he was simply drunk.

In the pa.s.sage Heimert came to meet him. He looked distraught, as though just awakened out of sleep. He beckoned Heppner into the kitchen. Heppner entered and shut the door behind him. The light blinded him; he blinked stupidly, and thought he saw in the lamp-light two shining revolvers lying on the table.