ly
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