e gave way. One day, as the orderly was smoothing
out the tablecloth, the officer pinned down his thumb with a pencil,
asking,

"How did you come by that?"

The young man winced and drew back at attention.

"A wood-axe, Herr Hauptmann," he answered.

The officer waited for further explanation. None came. The orderly went
about his duties. The elder man was sullenly angry. His servant avoided
him. And the next day he had to use all his willpower to avoid seeing
the scarred thumb. He wanted to get hold of it and---- A hot flame ran
in his blood.

He knew his servant would soon be free, and would be glad. As yet, the
soldier had held himself off from the elder man. The Captain grew madly
irritable. He could not rest when the soldier was away, and when he
was present, he glared at him with tormented eyes. He hated those fine,
black brows over trie unmeaning, dark eyes, he was infuriated by the
free movement of the handsome limbs, which no military discipline could
make stiff. And he became harsh and cruelly bullying, using contempt and
satire. The young soldier only grew more mute and expressionless.

What cattle were you bred by, that you can t keep straight eyes? Look
me in the eyes when I speak to you.

And the soldier turned his dark eyes to the other's face, but there was
no sight in them: he stared with the slightest possible cast, holding
back his sight, perceiving the blue of his master's eyes, but receiving
no look from them. And the elder man went pale, and his reddish eyebrows
twitched. He gave his order, barrenly.

Once he flung a heavy military glove into the young soldier's face. Then
he had the satisfaction of seeing the black eyes flare up into his own,
like a blaze when straw is thrown on a fire. And he had laughed with a
little tremor and a sneer.

But there were only two months more. The youth instinctively tried to
keep himself intact: he tried to serve the officer as if the latter
were an abstract authority and not a man. All his instinct was to avoid
personal contact, even definite hate. But in spite of himself the hate
grew, responsive to the officer's passion. However, he put it in the
background. When he had left the Army he could dare acknowledge it. By
nature he was active, and had many friends. He thought what amazing
good fellows they were. But, without knowing it, he was alone. Now this
solitariness was intensified. It would carry him through his term. But
the officer seemed to be go