Jena or Sedan? Part 29

He found some difficulty in answering her. At last he came out with:

"I am very fond of you, Frau Lisbeth; and if you could make up your mind to it I should like to ask you if you would have me."

Lisbeth smiled a little, and then said, "You may ask me that now!"

Her voice sounded honest and friendly.

Trautvetter took her hand in his and said: "Then that's all right!"

But she continued gaily and cheerfully: "Besides, in any case, I should have ended by being your mistress."

"Oh, no!" said Trautvetter. "Under certain circ.u.mstances I prefer a wife."

Despite the warmth of the August sun, Julie Heppner grew worse day by day; but this was nothing to her in comparison with the burden of mental suffering which almost overwhelmed her.

She watched her husband and sister with a gaze that never faltered. She saw with horror how Ida became less shy of her and abandoned herself more and more to her pa.s.sion. Nor was this hidden from her husband. He noticed with cynical satisfaction how the young girl's power of resistance diminished. The desired fruit must soon fall into his hands almost of itself.

Soon, under cover of the playful teasing which went on between the sergeant-major and his sister-in-law, even in the presence of the invalid wife, he began to indulge in pa.s.sionate, l.u.s.tful touches and covert embraces which brought the blood to the girl's face and made her s.h.i.+ver.

She resented Julie's reproaches with the hard, insensitive egoism of one in love. What! Did this wretched moribund creature still think to claim the man whom she, the fresh, young girl, loved, and who loved her in return?

Julie laughed bitterly to herself. Would it not be best to resign herself to it, to close her eyes, and to await the deliverance of Death?

Oh, no! She could not endure this shameless insult which they both, as it were, hurled in her face. She racked her brain as to how she could revenge herself on them; but in vain. Most terrible of all was it to feel that though still alive she was virtually dead already, as powerless and helpless as a corpse!

Then the worst happened.

The sergeant-major and his sister-in-law were invited to a _fete_ which the military society, "The Fellow-Soldiers of 1870-1," were arranging in memory of the battle of St. Privat.

The programme included music, theatricals, and dancing. Towards evening a fanfare of trumpets summoned the guests to the festival-play.

Even in the garden under the lime-trees the heat of the summer sun had been great, and in the confined s.p.a.ce of the overcrowded hall it became unbearably intense. The rows of chairs were placed much too close together, in order to accommodate the large audience. Once seated, it was impossible to move; one remained wedged in between one's neighbours.

Shortly before the curtain was raised, Heppner and Ida discovered two empty chairs. The sergeant-major sat down first. The narrow s.p.a.ce then left on the neighbouring chair was far too small for the girl's fully-developed hips.

Consequently his sister-in-law was almost sitting on his knee. He felt the warmth of her blood and her firm limbs through her thin cotton skirt. They were pressed close to one another in the darkened room.

Drops of sweat gathered on their brows, and their breath came gaspingly and with difficulty. But, as if by mutual consent, they did not move a limb. They were hearing nothing but the voice of their blood, and in the close contact they could distinctly feel the pulse-beats.

Neither of them took in a word of the play which was being performed on the stage.

At last the singing of the National Anthem announced the end of the piece. The spectators breathed sighs of relief and pushed patiently and slowly through the narrow doors out into the evening air of the garden, wiping and fanning their hot faces with their handkerchiefs.

Ida looked pale, and sank down exhausted on a chair. "I would rather go home," she said.

"Why not?" he agreed, and held out her jacket for her to put on. But the girl took it from his hand and hung it over her arm. A rush as of fire streamed through her body, making her skin p.r.i.c.k and tingle.

Walking silently side by side they left the restaurant garden.

A house stood half-way up the hill, whence two roads led to the barracks: the high-road down through the valley, and a footpath which led to the little wood at the back of the barracks, and then went on further. Heppner chose the footpath.

The evening had not brought coolness. The leaves hung motionless on the branches. The twilight began to give way to night. The girl felt the tepid breeze like a warm bath on her bare neck and arms.

At the edge of the little wood the pair turned and looked back. The lights of the garden gleamed through the darkness. The noise of the merry-making was hardly audible; only a trumpet and the rumble of a double ba.s.s, marking the dance measure, could be heard distinctly.

In the shadow of the trees Heppner put his arm round his sister-in-law's shoulders. She shrank slightly, and shuddered as if at a touch of frost. Pressed closely to each other they walked on slowly, and still in silence. The man's hot hand weighed heavily on the woman's shoulder; his throat was parched; his arms were as if paralysed; he could not turn his head and look her in the face.

They had reached the end of the wood. Fields stretched away on both sides of the path; the darkness of night surrounded them.

In the valley a train was pa.s.sing. A cloud of sparks streamed from the funnel of the engine; on the dark ground the windows of the lighted carriages threw illuminated squares, which flashed along beside the train and vanished with it in the dim distance of the night. Not a glimmer remained to show the trail of man.

Suddenly the girl stood still, and with a wrench freed her self from the man's arm. She gave a stifled cry, like the wail of one vanquished after a hard struggle--then flung herself on his breast.

After a night of terrifying visions and dreams Julie Heppner had become quieter. She fought against the belief that her horrible suspicions could have become truth. It was too monstrous; they could not have been brutal enough to inflict this last injury on her as she lay dying!

But her doubts became certainties as she observed the altered demeanour of her husband and sister. The restless yearning had vanished. They were more at ease; there was a complete understanding between them; and their glances no longer desired and hungered, but rather told of a happiness already tasted.

From this time the invalid's mind was filled with schemes of vengeance, and she gradually conceived a mad determination to kill the guilty pair. She felt that she had no time to lose. Her life was nearly spent.

She could now only take a few tottering steps; and increasing weakness would soon prevent her leaving her bed.

From under her eyelids she watched the girl's every movement. Oh, how she hated her, this healthy, blooming creature, with her splendid stature, her round white arms, and her magnificent bust! How she hated her! Her freshness, her youth, her beauty, her soft young body with which she had seduced the man, which he had caressed!

And Ida never suspected that vengeance was imminent, that death was near her--nearer even than to the dying woman herself!

The sands ran unceasingly through the hour-gla.s.s of the nearly expiring life. Constant and violent attacks of coughing kept the invalid from sleep, until the staff-surgeon prescribed morphia for her in fairly large doses. The poor woman was near death; why should not her last days be lightened, her last sufferings relieved? He cautioned the sergeant-major as to the danger of the drug, warning him to be careful in pouring out the doses.

Julie did not know how to praise the staff-surgeon enough; the rest was such a wonderful refreshment. True that on awaking her limbs felt rather heavy; but at the same time she felt the strengthening effect of the long undisturbed night's sleep. Sometimes she even thought she might begin to hope again; and when she felt particularly well she regained a faint desire for life. That would indeed be the most perfect vengeance, if she could live to spite them both, perhaps for years!

Then her illness once more overcame her; she despaired anew, and hourly planned revenge.

One morning, as she lay on her bed in a kind of stupor, she tried to recall the events of the night. Something had happened which she had seen vaguely through the veil of her torpor. Despite her drowsiness, she had been frightened, horrified by it; yet afterwards the incident had vanished from her memory, and now she was endeavouring to bring back the faint trace into consciousness.

It was just before she had fallen completely asleep, when her senses were becoming dulled, and the final action of the morphia was about to set in, that a slight cough had brought her back from the void, partially arousing her. While in this condition she had perceived that Otto, her husband, had softly raised himself in bed. Sitting up he had listened awhile, then had crept cautiously towards her, and had remained standing by her bed for a long time.

Now she remembered: she had been horribly afraid that he would do her some injury; that with his big strong hands he would take her by the throat and strangle her. She was far too weak to resist him; indeed, she had felt that she had not even the strength to cry out. But nothing of this had happened. He had only stood there motionless by her bedside, looking into her face. She had felt his gaze through eyelids that had closed with fatigue. Then she had gradually sunk into sleep; and just at the very last she fancied she had been aware that her husband was moving away from her bed.

She pressed her hands to her brow as if to prevent the thoughts from escaping. She closed her eyes and forced herself to live again through the events of the night. At last they came back to her, and the memory struck her like a stinging lash, so that she cowered on her bed, clutching the coverlet with her hands, and biting her handkerchief to keep herself from shrieking with horror and hatred.

When he left her side her husband had turned towards the door--towards the door beyond which her sister slept. And thus it was that the shameless pair took advantage of that sleep for which she, poor invalid, had been so thankful! Even this relief, this wretched remnant of happiness, they embittered for her!

Never again should the healing, sleep-giving drug cross her lips, to give the opportunity for such abominations! Never! Not if it cost her her life! For that life was no longer worth having.

But stay! She would dissemble; would appear to take the drug and then pretend to go to sleep, in order to gain a chance of revenging herself on the adulterers how, she did not know; but it must be soon. In two days the regiment would be off to the autumn manuvres, and by that time her vengeance must be consummated; she felt her strength would not last much longer.

On the following morning there was much work and bustle going forward in the battery, as early the next day they were to start for the manuvres. The sergeant-major had barely time to throw together the few things that he intended to take with him.

"Ida," he shouted through the door, "cut some bread and b.u.t.ter for my breakfast, and send it over to me in the orderly-room."