ot at
all correct to make a proposal of marriage at the time of receiving an
official notification.

At luncheon that day it was continually, "Your health, Reimers!" "Good
luck to you, Reimers!" or the orderly would be at his elbow with a
message: "Captain Blank, or Lieutenant So-and-so, would like to drink a
glass of wine with you, sir." And Reimers pledged his friends gaily
across the table. He had invited Guentz and little Dr. von Froeben to a
bottle of champagne, and grew more reckless as time went on. When
lights were brought for the cigars Guentz said to him: "You're a bit
screwed, my boy. You'd better go and sleep it off."

But Reimers had become exceedingly jovial. "Oh, it's nothing at all!"
he declared. "I'm going for my ride now It was postponed on account of
the announcements to-day."

"That'll do nicely, my son," said Guentz; "that will put you right
again." And he looked on smiling as the new senior-lieutenant swung
himself into the saddle. The first attempt miscarried, and even the
successful one was accomplished with difficulty; but the rider sat
firmly enough in his seat when he got there and Dorothy had no tricks.
Guentz waved merrily to his friend as he turned off into the forest.

The mare's hoofs sank deep into the soft sand; she soon allowed herself
to fall into a lazy pace, and Reimers did not press her. Dorothy
stretched out her neck and drew the bridle through her rider's fingers;
he let it hang loose.

Reimers now became aware for the first time that the glasses and
half-glasses in which he had answered his friends' congratulations must
have amounted to a considerable number. If he tried to concentrate his
thoughts on any particular subject, they slipped away from him in the
most perverse manner. He reflected vaguely that this was the kind of
mood in which he had of old committed all manner of pleasant follies
and youthful indiscretions. And why not? Was he not young, and a free
man?

How delightful was this solitude after the noise and smoke of the
mess-room! It was now about six o'clock, and a heavenly June evening.
The sun was still high, but the heat was no longer oppressive; the air
felt soft and caressing. The dense forest on either hand was wrapped in
stillness; no sound penetrated between the slender stems of the trees;
the horse's tread in the soft sand made only a slight swishing noise.

At a crossing of the ways the mare came to a standstill, stretching out
her nose towards