Part 52 (1/2)

He shut his eyes dizzily. His senses were still somewhat dazed from his potations; he could not rouse himself to a clear awakening.

The woman turned towards him. A charming, rather bold face bent down over him, and a pair of hot, eager lips were pressed to his. And Reimers, after the s.p.a.ce of years behind him, was once again in that mood in which he had of yore committed acts of folly.

A few weeks later Senior-lieutenant Reimers had a consultation with the surgeon-major, Dr. Andreae.

”What you tell me, doctor,” he said at the end, ”is very much like a death-sentence, so far as a man's domestic happiness is concerned. He must never hope to found a family?”

”No,” replied Andreae; ”a decent man does not marry under such circ.u.mstances. If he does, he commits a crime, consciously or unconsciously, not only upon a woman, but upon his children.”

”Thank you, doctor.” And Reimers would have taken leave, but Andreae stopped him at the door.

”I beg of you, my dear Reimers,” he said, ”not to take too tragic a view of your case. I a.s.sure you, many men in like circ.u.mstances make out a very tolerable existence. Among the younger men of the present generation the average is enormously high, though fortunately most cases are not so serious as yours. Quite alarmingly high, the average, to us doctors.

”But after all, life is not entirely concerned with this one relation to the other s.e.x. Those who find themselves cut off from domestic happiness in this particular are often most excellent officers. In peace they can devote themselves entirely to their profession without other distractions; so that it benefits somewhat, as does the Catholic Church by the services of her celibate priesthood. And in active warfare it seems to me that such men must enjoy something of the fatalism of Islam. All is not lost, my dear fellow! I hear everywhere the greatest praise of your capacity and talents as an officer. So be brave, and throw the others as mere ballast behind you. You have a guiding star in your profession--is it not so?”

Reimers nodded.

”You are right, doctor,” he said, ”and I am much obliged to you.”

He looked weary and broken as he went out at the door. In a thoughtless moment he had destroyed his one chance of happiness. That moment he must expiate, and he knew he was strong enough to bear the burden.

But it seemed to him that it was not this alone that had decided his fate. He felt as though a grey veil had descended over his whole future; even over all that in his imagination had elevated him above the more sordid chances of destiny.

Could this be because that star to which the doctor had pointed him was losing its brilliancy?

Gloomily he trod the woodland path to the town. Down below in a field behind the barracks an old sergeant was giving the a.s.sistant trumpeters a lesson. The lads blew forth a horribly ill-tuned unison. Then the sergeant set his own trumpet to his lips, and the notes of the dismissal rang clearly through the air:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: (musical score)]

The signal that in the manuvres indicated the close of each evolution.

CHAPTER XIV

After eighteen months of service Gustav Weise was made bombardier.

Captain von Wegstetten thought this would now be a safe experiment with the erstwhile social-democrat.

But more non-commissioned officers were still required.

Sergeant Wiegandt had gone away on April 1: Wegstetten's best non-com., and now the blissful husband of the beaming Frieda. He would have been made deputy sergeant-major very shortly; but not even this prospect had been sufficient to retain him. At Michaelmas two more non-commissioned officers would obtain their discharge; Heppner was dead; Heimert was in a mad-house; there were strange faces everywhere, instead of the old tried experienced men. And even so there were not enough of them.

In this embarra.s.sment Wegstetten bethought himself of Vogt. He was an honest steady lad, on whom one could depend. All his superiors praised him, and, besides, he had good blood in his veins, inherited from his father, the brave old sergeant, with his iron cross and his medal for bravery.

Vogt did not prove to be particularly willing. Every plough in its furrow, every mower deftly at work, awakened in him longings for his old agricultural pursuits. He wore his uniform with a good grace; there was no help for it, and grumbling would have only made the life harder.

But to stay on longer than necessary--for that he had no hankering.

Wegstetten knew how to tackle his men. He talked glibly to the gunner about the honour and distinction to be won as a non-commissioned officer, not forgetting to observe how much the father at home would rejoice to see the son following in his footsteps.

Vogt asked his father's advice, and the turnpike-keeper wrote back: ”Jump at your captain's offer, my lad. As an old soldier, I am very glad to think of my boy as a non-commissioned officer. Never mind about me. The pleasure you give me will make me young and strong, so that I shall be able to keep the place going till you come home again at last.”