Sergeant-Major Heppner married his sister-in-law[A] Ida very quietly
during Christmas week. It was quite necessary, unless there was to be a
christening before the wedding.
[Footnote A: Marriage with a deceased wife's sister is legal in
Germany.--_Translator._]
The terrible death of his wife had somewhat chastened the coarse
recklessness of the man's bearing. Throughout the autumn and far into
the winter he seemed entirely changed. He restrained himself, his harsh
voice being seldom heard in the corridors of the barracks; and he
attended scrupulously to his duties, so that the inner wheels of the
battery ran smoothly in perfect order.
Captain von Wegstetten sometimes took himself to task. He could not but
be pleased with his sergeant-major, and yet he could not quite overcome
the antipathy he had hitherto felt for Heppner. The certain degree of
intimacy that otherwise might be expected to arise from their common
care of the new recruits appeared to him quite impossible. He could not
bring himself to feel complete confidence in Heppner's uprightness.
The sergeant-major, however, was unaware of anything lacking in their
relations; when he felt he had discharged his duty thoroughly his heart
glowed with satisfaction, and he resolved never to fall back into his
old follies.
He felt very awkward about his compulsory marriage; but happily no one
seemed to think the worse of him for it. People considered it natural
enough that a healthy young couple under one roof, with only a dying
woman between them, should have been carried away by their passion.
The peace which now reigned in his dwelling seemed to him something
unwonted and delightful. He began to change his manner of life
completely, and, instead of frequenting public-houses, spent his
evenings cosily at home. In order to save fuel, Ida had made 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 _rôle_ 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, Frieda, Sergeant Wiegandt's sweetheart, found fault with
her. Once at the non-commissioned officers' summer fête, that young
person--who, by-the-by, was almost suspected of being a red-hot little
social-democrat--saw Albina, and had the courage to declare, "That
creature?--Otto, she's a----no! I won't soil my mouth with the dirty
word. But I know that sort of truck! In some matters you men are just
as blind and as stupid as new-born kittens."
Seeing Albina surrounded by lieutenants and non-coms., dancing first
with one and then with another, Frieda grew quite excited.
"Otto," cried she, "if you dare to dance with that baggage, all is over
between us. It's like flies buzzing about a sugar-cake."
Wiegandt had fully intended to dance the next dance with Frau Heimert;
but he dutifully abandoned the idea, and conducted Frieda into a
secluded little plantation, where other couples wandered lovingly
entwined like themselves.
They chatted about the future, which now lay plain before them.
Wiegandt had not again signed on, and by the following autumn he would
have a good position in the town-police, with thirteen hundred marks a
year, free quarters, and a hundred and twenty marks allowance for
clothes. The burgo-master of the little town, being a senior-lieutenant
of the reserve, had been present at the performance of some exercises
by the sixth battery, and had personally chosen out his man. Wegstetten
was furious at losing his best non-commissioned officer, and pressed
Wiegandt to stick to the flag; but the sergeant was not to be prevailed
upon, for he was impatient now to quit the service. With such a noble
competency in view, therefore, he might well venture on marriage.
"All right, even when the children come," he whispered to his
sweetheart; and Frieda nodded sagaciously, whispering back: "They'll
come, sure enough!"
Albina Heimert never noticed that such a humble and inconspicuous
little person gave her the go-by. As the wife of the deputy
sergeant-major, she felt herself at last on firm solid ground. She
carried her head high in the barrack-yard, and ordered her house with a
fine matronly dignity.
She met the admiring glances of her neighbours, even if only prompted
by some matter of domestic economy, with an indescribable little smile.
No word might be spoken, but it would be quite evident that she was
gratified by the admiration. It was Venus triumphing over Mars.
The person who was least affected by the beautiful Frau Heimert's
charms was, curiously enough, Sergeant Heppner. Once, when Albina
chanced to meet him in the corridor, she said: "When I first met you,
Herr Heppner--you remember that day at Grundmann's--you were perfectly
different--ever so much smarter and livelier! Really, I almost think
you must be ageing, Herr Heppner!" And she burst into a shrill,
affected laugh, which rang rather unpleasantly in his ears.
As Heppner sat in his armchair by the stove he contrasted his pretty,
healthy, buxom Ida with the woman next door, and would be seized with a
veritable horror of the all-pervasive odour of the scent she used.
He would make a disdainful grimace when Albina, in a huge hat, rustled
past him, and would greet her carelessly, almost discourteously.
But with the spring the old spirit of restlessness possessed the
sergeant-major.
Ida was expecting her confinement in May, and had no thoughts but for
the child. Heppner began to marvel at himself for having been so
domestic all the winter. Surely his limbs must have been benumbed and
this brain addled! He really must rouse himself now and get a few new
ideas into his head. So he easily slipped back into his old wild ways
of life, and could less and less understand how he had come to live
otherwise during so many months.
His former boon-companions welcomed him back joyfully, and it was not
long before he was once more at cards with them. The promise he had
given to Trautvetter he should construe after his own views; he would
be careful to keep within bounds, under all circumstances.
It happened, nevertheless, that he lost at times; and to meet
such little reverses he was obliged to borrow from the battery
cash-box, for Ida kept a tight hand on the purse-strings, and he could
not bring himself to cut down her housekeeping money. Of course, to
balance these bad days there were runs of good luck, when he had a
considerable surplus; but, like a true gambler, he did not set his
winnings against his losses, considering them as so much pure gain,
which enabled him to indulge in extravagances. He made new holes in
order to stop up the old ones.
About this time Frau Albina Heimert spoke to him again one day.
"Thank heaven!" she said. "You seem to have roused up a bit, Herr
Heppner! I quite began to fear you were becoming a hopeless rustic."
The sergeant-major watched her thoughtfully as, with her provoking
little air, she disappeared into her own quarters.
The devil! How utterly absurd! He had actually positively disliked this
beautiful creature all the winter! He was astonished at his own bad
taste. Before him stood his wife on the kitchen hearth, her figure
rendered shapeless by her advanced state of pregnancy. And he had once
thought her prettier than Albina!
From this time he began to show Frau Heimert small attentions. He would
walk with her if they met in the barrack-yard, would carry her parcels,
or stand aside politely to let her precede him up the stairs, and then
open the door for her. He would inquire earnestly after her health; and
once, when she complained of a headache, he brought her all sorts of
remedies, besides enjoining the men to be very quiet and to tread
softly as they passed her door.
But Albina played the prude. She received the sergeant-major's
attentions very coolly, and cut short his conversational efforts so as
to excite him the more. At the same time her mockingly triumphant and
provocative glances would contradict the virtuous compression of her
lips.
Heppner did not at all despair. Unobtrusively he gradually multiplied
the proofs of his gallantry; and by slow degrees the object of his
attentions suffered her demeanour towards him to soften.
Suddenly Heimert noticed their intercourse, and, stirred by suspicious
jealousy, tried hard to put a stop to it. But was that possible?
The deputy sergeant-major was often detained for hours at the
exercise-ground half a mile away. Heppner, as sergeant-major, could
order it so; and thus he and Albina could be together undisturbed as
often and as long as they pleased.
Heimert would learn from the other men who had been on duty at the
barracks what Heppner had been about during the morning. He always
tried to find out stealthily and without exciting comment; but his
comrades knew very well what was up, and enjoyed playing on the
jealousy of the young husband.
At last the deputy sergeant-major hit on a curious plan. This was to
bring the two together in his presence. He thought that if there really
was a secret understanding between them they would betray themselves in
a moment of thoughtlessness. So he invited Heppner to drop in now and
then, in a neighbourly way, for a cigar and a bottle of beer.
The sergeant-major accepted. Once or twice he brought Ida with him;
then, as the time for her lying-in approached, he came alone.
Heimert watched them closely; every word, every movement, almost every
look. But his suspicions were not justified. Heppner was polite,
easy, and perfectly unconstrained; while Albina chatted easily and
naturally, and accepted the homage of their guest with a kind of
haughty tranquillity. Towards her husband she displayed quite unusual
tenderness, so long as the sergeant-major was present.
Heimert was somewhat reassured by this. When Heppner rose to take leave
Heimert would fling his arm confidently about Albina's waist, with a
gesture which seemed to say: "You see, my wife is my own. I have her
and hold her, and you won't get her, however much you may covet her.
That's the right of possession. And so it will be, no matter how much
you may hate and envy me. And when you have gone I shall claim my
rights, and this woman must obey my will."
The sergeant-major read this defiance plainly in Heimert's face, and it
had the effect of causing him to swear inwardly that he would seduce
his comrade's wife.
In the middle of May Ida bore a child,--a fat, strong, healthy boy,
weighing nine pounds. A splendid weight for a new-born baby!
At first the sergeant-major rather fancied himself as a father. Every
one said that the fine boy was his living image. Certainly there was no
need to be ashamed of being seen with such a child. Of course this son
of his should be a soldier, an artilleryman. He should learn to ride as
soon as he could sit on the saddle, and woe to him if he showed any
fear!
Ida was happy beyond measure, and there could not have been a tenderer
or more careful mother. Motherhood awoke in her much that had hitherto
been unapparent in her somewhat stolid nature.
Heppner thought her little occupations silly and tiresome. The first
sight of his boy at the healthy young mother's breast seemed to him
charming enough. But before long he was continually scolding Ida for
her over-indulgence of the child, telling her he would grow up a
milksop, always hanging on to his mother's skirts.
And it soon bored him to be much with the child. If one wanted to rest
the youngster was sure to start whining and squalling or if one felt
inclined to play with him, to tickle his fat sides and toss him in the
air, he was certain to have just dropped off to sleep, and Ida would
stand sentinel over him, not suffering him to be disturbed at any
price. She, indeed, seemed now to be nothing but mother, and to have
forgotten altogether that she was also a wife.
Heppner consequently redoubled his attentions to Frau Heimert.
Albina could not endure little children, and took no interest whatever
in his remarkable baby. This he thought rather stupid of her;
nevertheless the Bohemian girl completely turned his head.
Uninvited, he constantly dropped in now on the Heimerts "to smoke a
cigar with the deputy sergeant-major," as he said. Almost shamelessly
he pursued his object, grossly flattering Albina, and making risky
jokes with her.
Heimert sat by nearly choking with rage. He hardly knew why he did not
seize the seducer by the throat. But the culprits would have a complete
defence ready. Was it not all mere harmless jesting? Whatever anguish
of jealousy he might feel, he must wait for fuller evidence.
And into the midst of the laughter would come through the thin walls
now the cry of the infant, and then the low singing of Ida as she
lulled her little one to sleep.
Albina wished to enjoy her revenge to the full. During the winter the
sergeant-major had treated her as a cast-off love; he should suffer
awhile for that. She exercised all her arts to augment his pain; it
gave her a half fearful, half delicious pleasure to note his
impatience.
One evening Heppner seized an opportunity when he imagined himself
alone with her. He caught her head in his hands almost savagely and
pressed a wild, passionate kiss on her lips. Albina's defiant
resolution broke down; she returned his kiss with equal passion.
Heimert, standing in the dark kitchen, screened by the door, saw it
all.
He had been to fetch a bottle of beer, now he suddenly re-entered the
room.
"There's no beer, Albina," he said; "you must have been mistaken."
He sat down slowly at the table, and drummed gently with his fingers on
a plate. The guilty pair were as if stunned by the fervour of their
embrace; though little suspecting that the betrayed husband had
witnessed it. They did not respond to his remark, and seemed lost to
time and space. Neither did they notice that a long, oppressive silence
had fallen on them, that the lamp was burning low, and the room
darkening.
At last Heimert drew out his watch. "It's time to go to bed," he said;
"we've got to get up to-morrow morning."
Heppner and Albina awoke suddenly from their entranced condition, and
the sergeant-major hastened to say good night.
Quickly Albina prepared for bed. Usually she went through many
ceremonies with a view to preserving her beauty: she rubbed her skin
with lanoline, or sprinkled it with powder, to keep it soft and smooth;
she spread a perfumed emollient on her hands, afterwards drawing on
gloves to prevent them from losing their whiteness with rough work. But
to-night she merely loosened her hair, and was between the sheets in a
trice.
Heimert lay sleepless. Hour after hour he heard strike; the short May
night seemed to him an eternity.
The woman beside him had sunk into a deep slumber. Now and then her
breathing quickened, and she gave almost a gasp, flinging herself about
as though in a troubled dream.
With the dawn of morning Heimert came to a decision. He would not allow
himself to believe in Albina's guilt. He had noticed that when Heppner
threw his arm around her she had shrunk from him. (This was true
enough; Albina had winced; but it was on account of her artistically
dressed hair.) She had submitted, he forced himself to think, in the
paralysis of surprise. In such a case Heppner, no doubt, would have
scolded his wife for not confessing. By right she ought certainly to
have told her husband. But Heimert found a thousand excuses for her.
Albina knew his jealousy, and desired, possibly, to avoid scandal,
which would have been inevitable had she told him. Or perhaps she would
speak to him about it after she had thought it over quietly by herself.
Or, again, she might intend to deal with the sergeant-major in her own
way. Or, once more, perhaps she was just beginning to yield to the
temptation.
That was as might be. Anyhow, the affront was there: his wife had been
insulted, and he, Heimert, must obtain satisfaction. He would set about
it quite quietly, so as to avoid the gossip; but between men such an
injury must mean a duel.
The officers always acted on that principle, and what was right for
them must be right for the non-coms., who also wore swords at their
sides. But all the ceremonial of a court of honour and seconds was not
necessary among common folk like Heppner and himself. Alone, without
witnesses, as man to man they would fight it out.
Heimert thought at first of selecting swords as the weapons; but their
swords were not sharpened, and it might attract attention if he had
them put in order. Besides, he thought it more becoming to use pistols
when such a weighty matter as the honour of a husband was in question.
It was a piece of good luck that some years before he had picked up a
couple of live cartridges after a shooting-practice.
Now he handled the little things with a grim satisfaction. They were
not quite so small as those of the infantry, for the regulation
revolver had a range of ten millimetres. The brass cases had grown a
little dull, so he rubbed them until they shone.
Nothing more was wanting. The duel could take place.
The only remaining difficulties were locality and time; but concerning
these also Heimert soon decided. Sloping up behind the barracks, the
road led straight to an open bit of overhanging ground. There could not
be a better spot. And of course the affair could only take place at
night. He consulted the calendar: in two days there would be a full
moon, so they would have light enough to see each other clearly at ten
paces. The moon rose shortly before ten o'clock; she would be high in
the heavens by midnight.
At daybreak the deputy sergeant-major went about his duty, cool and
punctual as usual, only taking pains to avoid meeting Heppner. He
did not wish to see him until the evening,--or, better still, till
night,--so that the duel might follow immediately upon their interview.
He knew the sergeant-major would not flinch, but would fall in with his
arrangements. Heppner was no coward.
Albina behaved just as usual during the day, and said nothing to her
husband about the kiss. But that, of course, made no difference to
Heimert's plans. He learned from the stablemen that Heppner would be at
the White Horse with Blechschmidt, the sergeant-major of the fifth,
that evening. That was capital. He would catch him as he came home, and
the affair would be arranged in two minutes.
Heimert ate his supper in silence. Albina imagined that he had had
words with the captain or somebody, and did not bother him with
questions. After she had cleared the table, she sat down to read the
sensational _feuilleton_ of the local daily paper, eating pralines all
the while. Then she performed her evening toilet and went to bed. It
was not yet nine o'clock; but that did not matter. She liked lying in
bed.
On the stroke of nine Heimert heard the sergeant-major go out. In the
corridor he caught some of the men larking about without their caps,
and rebuked them sharply. Then he clanked down the stairs, and all was
still.
Heimert carried the lamp to the table in the window and sat down to
write. In order to pass the time until Heppner should return, he was
going to check the shoeing account in his register by the entries in
the ordnance books. In his slow, neat handwriting he inscribed one
careful entry after another, and became so absorbed by his task that he
never even heard the tattoo. When he looked up from the books it was
already past eleven; but that was all right, for the sergeant-major was
safe not to be going home till midnight.
Heimert opened the window and looked out. It had rained during the day,
and now all nature seemed to be sprouting and budding. The odour of the
young fresh green things was wafted in by a breath of wind, which
gently swayed the cotton curtains. Forest and hills were illuminated by
the brilliant moonlight; and like a white ribbon the foot-path climbed
the steep ascent behind the barracks, till it lost itself in the
shadows of a thicket. On the grassy slope stood a group of young
birches, their white stems gleaming, and their shimmering leaves--still
wet from the rain--shining as though made of silver.
Heimert gazed at it all with no thought for the beauty of the May
night. He was glad that the moon shone so brightly, as he would be able
to see his man with ease in such a light.
He fetched his revolver, and returning to the window looked across at
the notice-board opposite, which threatened trespassers in the barracks
or parade-ground with "a fine of sixty marks or five days'
imprisonment." The white-lettered notice-board was fixed to the trunk
of a beech-tree by a huge nail, and at the head of this nail Heimert
took careful aim.
Satisfied, he laid down the pistol and returned to the table. But
almost immediately he jumped up again and took a light out into the
corridor. Yes, Heppner's revolver was in its usual place on the rack.
He took the weapon with him into the kitchen, and sat down once more.
Just midnight! The twelve strokes were sounding slowly from the great
clock of the barracks.
Heimert still waited. After a little his head sank down on the table,
and he fell asleep.
At half-past two Heppner came home. He had had a run of bad luck at the
White Horse, had lost over a hundred marks, and that amount was now
missing from the battery cash-box. He was quite overcome by this sudden
misfortune. As if stunned he groped his way home to the barracks,
scarcely seeing where he was going, stumbling at times over his sword,
or entangling himself with his spurs.
When he rang at the gate for admittance he was ready to fly into a
passion. He thought he had not heard the ringing of the bell, and he
began to rage at somebody's carelessness in not having a broken bell
mended on the instant. But the corporal on guard opened to him; so the
bell was all right, and the sound must have escaped him. He stumbled
over the threshold.
The corporal gazed after him in astonishment. Was the sergeant-major
asleep or awake? He had staggered past with wide-open, staring eyes,
like a sleep-walker. Perhaps he was simply drunk.
In the passage Heimert came to meet him. He looked distraught, as
though just awakened out of sleep. He beckoned Heppner into the
kitchen. Heppner entered and shut the door behind him. The light
blinded him; he blinked stupidly, and thought he saw in the lamp-light
two shining revolvers lying on the table.
"You kissed my wife yesterday," said Heimert, in a half whisper. "Isn't
that so?"
Heppner nodded. "Yes, yes." What had the silly fellow got in his head?
Of course he had kissed the woman; and he meant to do it again, and
again too.
"And so you have got to fight it out with me," continued the other.
"Man against man. Are you agreed?"
Again the sergeant-major nodded stolidly. Why not? Their betters acted
thus.
"Shall we settle the thing now at once?"
Heppner nodded for the third time. It was all one to him, so long as he
could get to rest at last.
Heimert took up the two revolvers in one of his big hands; with the
other he pointed over his shoulder out of the window.
"We'll go up there," he said. "There's plenty of room there. And we'll
take our own two revolvers with us. Look here! I will load them, each
with one cartridge."
Under Heppner's eyes he placed the cartridges in the chambers of the
revolvers, the shining brass gleaming beside the dull steel. He
gripped the pistols by the barrel, and held out the butt-ends to the
sergeant-major.
"Now choose," he said.
Heppner languidly took with his right hand the revolver which the other
was holding in his left. Heimert held the remaining pistol in the lamp
light, and read off the number.
"I have got yours," he said, "and you have mine. And now we'll wait
till the sentry has gone round the corner."
He leant out of the window cautiously, and took a look round. The moon
was in the zenith; houses, trees, and bushes cast but short shadows.
The sentinel was strolling along by the hedge of the jumping-ground.
His sword was in the scabbard, and he had buried his hands deep in his
breeches-pockets. Every now and then the lubberly fellow would whistle
a stave, or stand still and kick a stone from his path, or gape so
loudly that the moon shone into his open mouth. At last he disappeared
round a corner of the buildings.
"Now!" whispered Heimert. "You go first, but take off your sword."
Obediently Heppner unbuckled his belt and laid it down. He pushed the
revolver carefully into his coat-pocket, and swung himself out of the
window. The deputy sergeant-major extinguished the lamp and followed
him.
Side by side, like two good friends, the two men climbed the path that
led up the hill-side; Heimert striding on with quiet even pace, and
Heppner, with unsteady knees and panting breast, trying involuntarily
to keep step with the other man.
They vanished into the deep shadow of the wood, and after a short time
stepped out again into the bright moonlight above. The moon was almost
exactly overhead.
The deputy sergeant-major went thoughtfully along the path till he
arrived at the spot where the ascent ceased and the ground became quite
level.
"This is the best place, I think," he said. With the spurred heel of
his riding-boot he drew a deep furrow in the clayey soil.
"Will you stand here?" he said to the sergeant-major. Without a word
Heppner walked up to the mark. He carefully placed his feet with the
toes against the marked line. Heimert went on another ten paces, not
the leaping strides that are usually taken in arranging a duel, but
fairly long ordinary paces.
At the tenth he paused, and again dug his heel into the earth.
The two men stood opposite to each other, separated by the terribly
narrow interval of scarcely nine yards.
"Cock your pistol, Heppner!" cried Heimert to him. And the
sergeant-major did as the other desired. He seemed quite unaware of its
being a matter of life and death; he moved as in a dream.
Suddenly Heimert let out a curse. A difficulty had presented itself at
the last moment, and threatened to upset his whole plan.
How were they to shoot?
By counting, of course. He had intended to count "one," then, after a
couple of seconds by his watch, "two," and then again, after another
couple of seconds, "three." Between "one" and "three" they were to
fire. But, damn it all! how could he take aim if he was holding the
watch in his hand and counting the seconds on the dial?
Irresolutely he looked down at his watch. This was like a bad joke, and
perfectly maddening.
Suddenly an idea came to him. The minute-hand showed just two minutes
to the hour. In two minutes then the barrack clock would strike three.
That would be as good as counting.
In a clear voice he called out to his opponent: "Listen to what I say,
Heppner. In two minutes the clock down there will strike three times.
At the first stroke we must lift our revolvers, before that they must
be pointed to the ground. Between the first and the third strokes we
may fire, but not after the third. Do you understand, and are you
agreed?"
For the first time the sergeant-major made an articulate sound. "All
right," he said. His voice sounded husky, and he cleared his throat.
"Very good," said Heimert; "then it's all settled."
He took up his position, and looked coolly before him. The moon shone
down from a clear sky. A single light cloud floated against the dark
background, looking like a little white skiff.
Heppner watched the cloud. He tried to think how he came to be in this
place, up on the hill in the wood, in the middle of the night, like
this. He could not quite make it out. More than all there weighed on
him a leaden feeling of weariness. He would have liked to throw himself
down on the bare earth.
The seconds dragged on slowly.
Suddenly a night-bird screamed loudly from a neighbouring tree-top, and
immediately afterwards sounded the first stroke of the hour.
The sergeant-major pulled himself up. With suddenly awakened senses he
looked about him. Opposite him stood Heimert with his revolver, and he
himself felt the butt-end of a weapon in his right hand.
But this was all madness. It was a crime. He wanted to cry out, "Stop!"
This folly was impossible. If anything happened to him he was lost.
There was money missing from the battery cash-box; at least he must put
that right.
Then came the second stroke. Stop! Stop! Why was his tongue tied?
Heimert saw him draw himself up. He thought his adversary was going to
fire, and he raised his revolver hastily. His forefinger pressed the
trigger. The sound of the shot echoed through the air, and almost
simultaneously the clock struck for the third time.
Heppner remained a moment standing. His revolver rattled to the ground,
his left hand clutched at his breast. Then the tall upright figure
lurched forward, and fell like a lifeless mass. A violent shudder ran
through the limbs; the body contracted, stretched itself again, turned
over on itself, and fell on its back.
Then all was still.
Heimert stood in his place. The hand with the revolver had slowly sunk,
and hung down limply. His glance wandered from the corpse to the
boundary line at his feet. He had not stepped over it. Everything was
according to order.
At last he aroused himself from his stupor. He forced himself to pass
the little furrow in the ground, and went towards his opponent. His
footsteps were heavy and uncertain; it felt to him as if his soles
adhered to the earth.
The sergeant-major was dead; there was no doubt about that. On the left
breast were a slight blood-stain and a quite diminutive hole. His head
was thrown back. The wide-open eyes of the dead man stared into the
moonlight.
Heimert gently closed the eyelids. He paused for a time beside the
corpse with folded hands, and softly muttered the Lord's prayer. Then
he began to descend the hill.
But he seemed to bethink himself of something. He dived again through
the shadow of the trees and knelt beside the sergeant-major. With great
care he laid his own discharged revolver in place of the loaded weapon
which Heppner had dropped.
When he stood up again a shifty, vague, cunning expression passed over
his face.
Between the white stems of the young birch-trees he looked out for the
sentry, who must have heard the shot. Redoubled precautions would be
necessary in regaining the barracks.
The sentry was staring fixedly up into the woods hence he had heard the
firing. With his head still turned towards the heights he walked up to
the gates, and waited to be relieved. When the bombardier and the
relieving sentry appeared he made his announcement. He pointed several
times to the wood. The bombardier shrugged his shoulders and asked
questions; finally he disappeared through the gateway with the sentry
who had been relieved. The gates clanged together, and the keys rattled
as the lock was turned.
The new sentry listened awhile to his comrades' retreating steps; then
he strolled along his beat at a leisurely pace, occasionally looking up
the hill. He took his time, but at last he turned the corner of the
officers' quarters.
Heimert made use of the opportunity. He ran hastily down the
pathway to the barracks. He drew himself up with the aid of the
lightning-conductor till his feet reached the top of the wall, and soon
after was standing, breathing heavily, in his own kitchen.
A moonbeam fell on something shining that leant against a kitchen
chair. It was Heppner's sword. Heimert took it up and carefully hung it
on its nail in the passage.
For a moment he stood listening. The Heppner baby was crying; the
soothing murmurs of its mother could be plainly heard: "Sh, sh!"
He stepped back on tiptoe, drew the door gently to, and began hastily
to undress. Then he lay down quietly in bed, taking pains not to make
the bedstead creak.
His precautions were superfluous; Albina slept soundly. An earthquake
would hardly have awakened her.
The deputy sergeant-major lay and listened. He could only hear the
beating of his own heart, and through the wall the muffled sound of the
child's crying.
"Widow and orphan," he thought.
The wailing voice subsided by degrees. The child had fallen asleep, or
the mother had taken it to her breast.
Its father was lying up there on the hill-side, his huge body blocking
the pathway.
Schellhorn, the fat paymaster of the regiment, whom Surgeon-major
Andreae sent every spring to Carlsbad for a cure, found the corpse
during his early morning constitutional.
He hastened to the barracks and gave the alarm.
After all particulars had been noted, the dead man was carried away.
Four gunners bore the heavy body down the hill on a stretcher, and laid
it on the bed in the Heppners' dwelling, the poor wife looking on with
bewildered eyes.
There was no doubt as to the case being one of suicide. The direction
of the shot, as shown by the post-mortem examination, was not against
this theory; but the most unmistakable proof lay in the motive for the
deed, which was only too clear. From the various cash-boxes under the
charge of the deceased one hundred and twenty marks were missing.
Sergeant-major Heppner, in dread of this being discovered, had shot
himself.
The colonel, Major Schrader, and Captain von Wegstetten unanimously
decided to hush up the affair, in view of the certain censure of the
higher authorities; and Schrader replaced the missing sum without more
ado.
Heppner's gambling companions were seriously warned.
Sergeant-major Blechschmidt, who was most to blame, received an
official intimation that he must not count upon a further term of
service.
Finally the widow was informed that her husband had committed suicide
in a moment of temporary mental aberration.
A few days after the funeral Heimert was installed in Heppner's place.
It gave him an immense deal of trouble to fulfil his new duties, and
yet no man could have set himself to the task more zealously and
conscientiously.
Captain von Wegstetten sometimes raged with impatience when his new
sergeant-major could not meet his requirements. Mere indications and
suggestions were not sufficient for the dull and somewhat limited
understanding of Heimert. Every detail had to be pointed out to him and
explained at length; but once he comprehended them he showed himself
capable of carrying out orders punctually and carefully.
From the time of his promotion Heimert troubled himself little about
Albina. His behaviour towards her became shy and odd; he avoided as
much as possible being alone with her. He preferred to sit at his desk
in the orderly-room, while she on her side felt no regret in being
relieved from the too particular attentions of her unloved husband.
Käppchen came to the conclusion that the sergeant-major must have a
screw loose somewhere. Heimert exhibited certain strange whims. He
would become perfectly furious if the many-coloured penholder which
Heppner had used were offered him, and he strictly forbade the corporal
ever to put it on his desk. Käppchen would sometimes for fun hand him
this penholder "by mistake" if a signature were wanted in a hurry. The
sergeant-major looked so comic with his blazing eyes and crimson face,
his nose shining reddest of all.
But the days were always too long for the sergeant-major. Even his
writing came at last to an end, and there was still time left on his
hands. He was not long in finding an occupation.
In the mounted exercises he had hitherto led the third column, but as
sergeant-major he now had to take an entirely different place in the
formation. His work was, as a matter of fact, much easier than
formerly; but he seemed to find it twice as difficult to understand. He
often did not know where he ought to be, and when Wegstetten found
fault with him he took it much to heart. What sort of an impression
would it give, if even the sergeant-major did not know his work, the
senior non-commissioned officer of the battery?
When he went over his book, puzzling out the regulations with his
fingers in his ears, his thoughts seemed to become more and more wildly
confused. He could form no clear picture of all these evolutions. He
therefore took his pen-knife, and with endless trouble made little
wooden figures, roughly representing the guns, the ammunition waggons,
and the individual mounted men. He coloured these figures so that they
might be perfectly distinguishable: the commander of the battery, the
leader of the column, the sergeant-major, the trumpeter, and the
corporal in the rear. And then he made them exercise on the table,
advance and retire, form into line, and wheel round; but his chief care
was always to keep the yellow-striped sergeant-major in his right
position.
Soon Wegstetten had no complaint to make of his sergeant-major, but
Heimert still went on playing with his little figures. For these wooden
guns and horsemen he was now the commander of the battery, and he would
not be contented till his miniature troop was brought to as great a
state of perfection as reigned under the captain of the sixth battery.
Albina shook her head over her husband's conduct. The man was ill, of
that she was convinced. She spoke to him once of consulting the doctor,
but Heimert repulsed her roughly.
"Thank God!" he said; "there's nothing the matter with me. I wish
everybody were as healthy as I am!"
After this she left him in peace. In her opinion some insidious disease
was advancing upon him, and sooner or later the trouble would break
out.
Heimert's appetite began to fail at last; he hardly ate any-thing. He
had always been extremely ugly, but people now shrank back at the sight
of his face. His eyes had become sunken, and had acquired an unnatural
brilliancy, while his hideous nose jutted out prominently from the
middle of his ashy countenance.
Albina sighed. What sort of show could one make with a husband like
that? It was fortunate that he kept out of the way so much.
But the time began to hang very heavy on her hands. From sheer ennui
she took to having her hair curled.
The barber who shaved the sergeant-major every morning had already
offered his services, commenting in a most flattering manner on the
magnificent hair which he said she did not show off to the best
advantage.
Albina had hitherto passed him proudly by. She despised barbers. But
now she began to observe him more closely. He appeared to her a polite,
agreeable, young man; he was good-looking too, even elegant. And he was
entertaining. He could tell her the most interesting things about all
sorts of people.
"You see, madam," he used to say, "a barber is one of the family
almost. He sees people in _déshabille_, as it were. And sometimes one
learns all manner of strange things. Of course the honour of the
profession forbids gossiping. But there is no harm in repeating little
trifling occurrences. Don't you think so? It amuses one's clients; and
that is quite permissible."
Albina entirely agreed with him.
Here was at least a man with whom one could have some rational
conversation.
During the exercises one morning the captain came riding up to the
sergeant-major.
"You must go back home at once, Heimert," he cried. "The major wants
the regulations that were in force at the last man[oe]uvres. Look them
out, and send them over to the division at once, will you?"
"Now, at once?" asked Heimert.
"Yes, yes! Make haste and get them!"
The sergeant-major hastened back to the barracks. With helmet on head
and sword by his side he set off at once on the quest. He gave Käppchen
the regulations to carry over to the orderly-room of the division, and
he himself returned home.
In the bedroom he found Albina and the barber together.
The shameless woman had felt so secure that she had not even troubled
to bolt the door.
Her gallant lover disappeared through the window like a shot.
Albina was not so quick. Heimert seized hold of her and dragged her
through the doorway just as she was, clad only in a dressing-jacket and
a thin petticoat.
The jacket tore in his hands. Then he seized her by her thick hair. She
screamed, but he pushed her before him down the passage.
A heavy riding-whip was hanging on a nail; as he passed he tore it
down, and the leathern thong descended in furious blows on the woman's
head, and on her bare shoulders and bosom.
She gave a loud yell of pain. The few men who had remained away from
the exercises came running, and stared open-mouthed. The whip made deep
red marks on the smooth skin, and the shrieks of the woman became more
and more piercing. But Heimert drove her down the steps into the
barrack-yard. She stumbled, and lost a shoe. No matter! on she must go!
If she stopped for a moment the whip lashed round her feet, her ankles,
her knees. She cowered, shrieking. With outstretched arms she tried to
parry the blows. Her husband pulled her upright; she staggered, but was
again dragged along by her hair under the pressure of that remorseless
hand. The blood ran from her shoulders, but the blows still rained down
like hail.
At last, on reaching the back gate the iron grip was loosened. One last
furious stroke tore her garments and dyed the white linen red. She
stood there for a moment, with bleeding hands pressed to her head, with
shut eyes and trembling knees.
Suddenly she realised that she was free, and with wild leaps she fled
towards the forest. On the slope of the hill she turned. Her bare skin
gleamed in the bright sunshine, and her dishevelled hair hung down over
her brow. She shook her naked arms with furious gestures towards the
sergeant-major, and screamed a hideous curse in his face. Then she
disappeared into the wood.
Heimert looked after her with a dull expression of countenance, till no
trace of her white garments was to be seen among the green bushes. Then
he returned home with firm footsteps.
Wegstetten gave orders that the sergeant-major should not be disturbed
that day. Under such circumstances a man had better be left to himself.
But when Heimert did not put in an appearance next morning, Käppchen
was sent to look him up.
The battery-clerk came back much disturbed, and announced: "Excuse me,
sir, I think the sergeant-major's gone mad."
"Mad? You are mad yourself, man!" was the captain's reply; and he went
in person to the sergeant-major's quarters.
Heimert was sitting at the table, his little wooden guns and horsemen
before him. With smiling looks he was drilling them, giving the words
of command in a soft voice.
He did not seem to recognise the commander of his battery, but gazed
stupidly at Wegstetten when he spoke to him.
"Don't you know me, sergeant-major?" asked the captain.
Heimert smiled at him, and pointed to the little horses.
"I ask you, Sergeant-major Heimert, don't you know your captain?"
demanded Wegstetten once more.
The sergeant-major shook his head, grinning. Then he set to work again,
and the guns were made to advance, each at an equal distance from the
other, with the leaders of the columns and the mounted men all in their
places.
Heimert was taken to the lunatic asylum of the district. In general he
was a very manageable patient, and it was only if a woman approached
him that he began to rave. His greatest delight was to play with some
wooden toys that were given him,--mimic guns and mounted soldiers of
all descriptions.