Part 29 (2/2)

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 ba.s.s, 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 pa.s.sing. 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 his breast.

After a night of terrifying visions and dreams Julie Heppner had become quieter. She fought against the belief that her horrible suspicions could have become truth. It was too monstrous; they could not have been brutal enough to inflict this last injury on her as she lay dying!

But her doubts became certainties as she observed the altered demeanour of her husband and sister. The restless yearning had vanished. They were more at ease; there was a complete understanding between them; and their glances no longer desired and hungered, but rather told of a happiness already tasted.

From this time the invalid's mind was filled with schemes of vengeance, and she gradually conceived a mad determination to kill the guilty pair. She felt that she had no time to lose. Her life was nearly spent.

She could now only take a few tottering steps; and increasing weakness would soon prevent her leaving her bed.

From under her eyelids she watched the girl's every movement. Oh, how she hated her, this healthy, blooming creature, with her splendid stature, her round white arms, and her magnificent bust! How she hated her! Her freshness, her youth, her beauty, her soft young body with which she had seduced the man, which he had caressed!

And Ida never suspected that vengeance was imminent, that death was near her--nearer even than to the dying woman herself!

The sands ran unceasingly through the hour-gla.s.s of the nearly expiring life. Constant and violent attacks of coughing kept the invalid from sleep, until the staff-surgeon prescribed morphia for her in fairly large doses. The poor woman was near death; why should not her last days be lightened, her last sufferings relieved? He cautioned the sergeant-major as to the danger of the drug, warning him to be careful in pouring out the doses.

Julie did not know how to praise the staff-surgeon enough; the rest was such a wonderful refreshment. True that on awaking her limbs felt rather heavy; but at the same time she felt the strengthening effect of the long undisturbed night's sleep. Sometimes she even thought she might begin to hope again; and when she felt particularly well she regained a faint desire for life. That would indeed be the most perfect vengeance, if she could live to spite them both, perhaps for years!

Then her illness once more overcame her; she despaired anew, and hourly planned revenge.

One morning, as she lay on her bed in a kind of stupor, she tried to recall the events of the night. Something had happened which she had seen vaguely through the veil of her torpor. Despite her drowsiness, she had been frightened, horrified by it; yet afterwards the incident had vanished from her memory, and now she was endeavouring to bring back the faint trace into consciousness.

It was just before she had fallen completely asleep, when her senses were becoming dulled, and the final action of the morphia was about to set in, that a slight cough had brought her back from the void, partially arousing her. While in this condition she had perceived that Otto, her husband, had softly raised himself in bed. Sitting up he had listened awhile, then had crept cautiously towards her, and had remained standing by her bed for a long time.

Now she remembered: she had been horribly afraid that he would do her some injury; that with his big strong hands he would take her by the throat and strangle her. She was far too weak to resist him; indeed, she had felt that she had not even the strength to cry out. But nothing of this had happened. He had only stood there motionless by her bedside, looking into her face. She had felt his gaze through eyelids that had closed with fatigue. Then she had gradually sunk into sleep; and just at the very last she fancied she had been aware that her husband was moving away from her bed.

She pressed her hands to her brow as if to prevent the thoughts from escaping. She closed her eyes and forced herself to live again through the events of the night. At last they came back to her, and the memory struck her like a stinging lash, so that she cowered on her bed, clutching the coverlet with her hands, and biting her handkerchief to keep herself from shrieking with horror and hatred.

When he left her side her husband had turned towards the door--towards the door beyond which her sister slept. And thus it was that the shameless pair took advantage of that sleep for which she, poor invalid, had been so thankful! Even this relief, this wretched remnant of happiness, they embittered for her!

Never again should the healing, sleep-giving drug cross her lips, to give the opportunity for such abominations! Never! Not if it cost her her life! For that life was no longer worth having.

But stay! She would dissemble; would appear to take the drug and then pretend to go to sleep, in order to gain a chance of revenging herself on the adulterers how, she did not know; but it must be soon. In two days the regiment would be off to the autumn manuvres, and by that time her vengeance must be consummated; she felt her strength would not last much longer.

On the following morning there was much work and bustle going forward in the battery, as early the next day they were to start for the manuvres. The sergeant-major had barely time to throw together the few things that he intended to take with him.

”Ida,” he shouted through the door, ”cut some bread and b.u.t.ter for my breakfast, and send it over to me in the orderly-room.”

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