the
kitchen more habitable; and the sergeant-major, luxuriously ensconced
in Julie's armchair, would watch the fire glowing through the stove
door, and Ida bustling about her household tasks. Then, before turning
in, he had to go once more through the stables, between the ranks of
sleeping horses, the stable-guard emerging from the darkness of some
corner to make his report. The sharp frosty air of the nights, after
the moist aromatic warmth of the stables, would make the sergeant-major
shiver and draw his cloak closer around him. He would settle himself
anew by the stove, watching his young wife, whose quick, clever hands
were busy with baby-clothes; and at such moments, tired by an honest
day's work, Heppner felt himself to be a thoroughly good fellow.

During the course of the summer, Albina Worzuba had been brought home
as a bride by Deputy sergeant-major Heimert, to the Schumanns' old
quarters next door.

The married life of the young pair began happily. Albina was brimming
over with affection for her husband, and Heimert felt he could not show
his wife too much attention.

Ere long Frau Heimert played a leading _role_ in the little world of
the barracks. The wives of the non-commissioned officers listened more
or less dubiously to the romantic tale of her origin, and envied her
the all-powerful money at her disposal. For not only did she give one
pure coffee from the bean,--no chicory mixture,--but she was also
extremely fashionable in her attire, rustling about in silk-lined
skirts, so that folk turned to look as she passed them. The good women
considered her gowns altogether too noticeable. And such undergarments
as she possessed! Red and yellow silk chemises and drawers, trimmed
with the finest lace. Such lovely jewellery, too! Yes, indeed, Frau
Heimert must come of well-to-do people. That was obvious in everything
belonging to her, her house, her clothes, her linen. Her expensive musk
scent penetrated even into the men's quarters.

Albina accepted the honour paid her with the airs of a little queen.
She spared neither her good coffee nor her good nature; she wore her
dresses, which she said came from one of the leading firms, with an
easy grace. In reality, she bought them from an old "friend," part of
whose business it was to be always in the latest Paris mode.

The non-coms.' wives envied Frau Heimert's taste, and tried to copy
her manner and deportment. Only the fair-haired little Berlin
seamstress, F