either 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 prick 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 bass, 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 passing. 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 hi