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 new