Sentence had been pronounced. Non-Commissioned Officer von Nissew received eighteen months' imprisonment and at the same time he was reduced to the ranks; four other non-commissioned officers of the company received six months'. A few days later the court-martial sentenced Captain von Warnow to four weeks' imprisonment in a fortress, because, by not properly supervising his non-commissioned officers he had contributed to the ill-treatment.

The "Golden Butterflies" crept about quite broken-hearted. There was no laughter or merriment in the Casino now; they scarcely ventured, indeed, to give orders to the orderlies, for what must they think of their superiors? If only the proceedings could have been carried on without publicity! but a charge brought into a law court could not be disposed of in this manner, and so the whole ugly story was once more in the newspapers. The Press of all shades of opinion expressed the severest judgment on the events; they threatened, indeed, to ask a question in the Reichstag as to how such occurrences were possible, and the case aroused long discussions concerning the value of regulations against the ill-treatment of soldiers, when the superior officers did not insist upon them being carried out. The newspapers were daily filled with long reports.

But even that was not the worst. His Majesty had had a long detailed report of the affair, and had demanded the documents, and in unmistakable language he had informed the officers and non-commissioned officers that they had forfeited his favour and patronage, and that it would be a very long time before they would regain his confidence.

"We've had a knock-down blow;" somebody at dinner used the expression, and struck the nail on the head: "The Golden Butterflies" had had a severe blow. They were conscious of this in the way they were regarded in Society; their comrades in the other distinguished regiments quietly but unmistakably withdrew from any intercourse with them. Not precisely from any profound conviction, not indeed because the others were enraged that such things should happen in the "Golden Butterflies"; it was indeed no concern of theirs if someone in the regiment was chased about with blows. Similar things happened every day in their own regiment; in the Cavalry there was scarcely a riding lesson when someone or other did not feel the whip. Blows were given everywhere, in some regiments more, in some less, and when, therefore, the other regiments officially declined intercourse with the "Golden Butterflies" it was simply and solely on the score of the publicity. It would make a good impression on the public if they were somewhat reserved in their behaviour to the "Golden Butterflies"; it would appear as if they were better men. And added to this, His Majesty's words soon became known, and, therefore, it was only prudent to be a little cold towards the "Golden Butterflies," for if His Majesty ceased to bestow his favours upon the regiment, it was certainly quite impossible for other people to protect it.

Yes the "Golden Butterflies" had fallen from their high estate. They saw it most distinctly when they gave their first banquet after the unhappy event. As usual, they had sent invitations to the other regiments, but almost all had declined, only a few young fellows, whose coming was of no importance, had accepted.

Baron Gersbach, the Uhlan, did not come, though Count Wettborn personally invited him, and promised him a long night of gambling.

But Baron Gersbach still declined. "Do not take it as an offence, my dear count, but affairs are not quite as they ought to be in your regiment; too much about them has got into the newspapers, and who can guarantee that one of your men or one of your non-commissioned officers who is occupied in attending on us will not run round to a newspaper and relate piping hot all that we have been doing. When one of your lieutenants, through a perfectly inexcusable indiscretion, draws down upon you such a scandal, one cannot any longer wonder if your men do the same thing. Well, I don't want any of that, thank you. I have no desire to get into the newspapers; I can assure you I was delighted to get off so easily when Willberg disappeared from this earthly scene. Do not be vexed with me for speaking so frankly, but as long as you have such people among you as Winkler, we cannot keep up friendly relations with you."

In vain Count Wettborn sought to say a good word on behalf of George, but it was of no avail.

"Certainly, he has the best intentions," agreed the Uhlan; "but good intentions alone are not sufficient; as sensible and experienced men, one must consider consequences. Now the consequences of his actions you know better than I do, and the whole affair is by no means pleasant for us. As Guard regiments we form one whole, and, therefore, what affects one casts its shadow on the others likewise, for people do not say such and such a thing happened in the 'Golden Butterflies,' but simply 'in the Guards.' Such a thing is frightful, for more than all the other regiments we must maintain outwardly, at any rate, a good reputation. Something more than the ordinary performance of our military duties is demanded from us, and, therefore, we are sometimes obliged to act with exceptional severity against our men. And then suddenly an idealistic reformer comes along, who wants to do away with all cuffs and blows; that is all very well in theory, but when it provokes open scandal, one simply can't have anything more to do with him."

So the count was obliged to depart without having obtained his object, and though until then, from a feeling of justice, he had been the only one who took George's part, he now came to the conclusion that it was impossible for Winkler to remain any longer in the regiment.

With this idea in his mind the count spoke one day to the colonel. "We can't go on much longer like this, sir, we are almost boycotted, we shall never get another guest as long as Winkler is here. He has brought us and himself, let alone everyone else, into discredit. Formerly one could not allege anything against him except his plebeian descent, but now there is a very strong feeling among the officers that he only lodged the complaint because he is plebeian."

The colonel looked up with astonishment. "I do not understand what you mean."

"Pardon me, sir, the thing is very simple. The officers believe that in giving this official information, Winkler, to a certain extent, wanted to have his revenge, because we had not extended to him the hand of fellowship as he had expected. He has, therefore, served us this trick and meant to signify: 'I am the only plebeian among you, but my ways are far more seemly than yours; simply to avoid discredit falling upon your regiment and your proud aristocratic names, you shut your eyes and ears, and permit your men to be ill-treated. But I can act and think with less prejudice, I am less hide-bound by the "caste" feeling which bids you preserve appearances, and so I can act as my conscience dictates. I am guided by my feeling of what is right alone and not by false prejudices.'"

"But that's simply nonsense," exclaimed the colonel.

"It may be, and I daresay such considerations are far removed from Winkler, but the officers credit him with these, and so what can one do? Nothing is more difficult than to talk the officers out of an idea which they have firmly seized upon—you know that, sir, do you not?"

The colonel groaned. "God knows it cost me trouble enough before to try and get the lieutenants to try and listen a little to reason."

He lit his cigar again which had gone out, and blew out great clouds of smoke.

"Dear count, let me give you some good advice. If you are not given a pension soon then leave the army before you become the colonel and commander of a regiment. I can assure you our path is not strewn with roses; we are answerable for everything; for the training of the troops, the tone in the regiment, for the non-commissioned officers, and last, but not least, for the officers. It is a vale of tears. No, I do not want to commit a sin," he continued reflectively, "I have every reason, therefore, to be grateful to Heaven, for had I known that I should live to see this day, I should have taken poison."

He pulled at his collar with his right hand to make it easier, for he suddenly felt as if he were being throttled.

Then suddenly he struck the table with a tremendous blow, so that the count, who meanwhile had been occupied in admiring his most up-to-date patent shoes, started with fright. The colonel noticed it, but paid no attention to it. "It is a scandalous thing," he burst forth in a rage; "we have weathered two storms successfully and now a third threatens, called Winkler. May God pardon me the sin, but I wish he had never been born, or at least had never come among us. He has certainly got no pleasure out of it, and neither have we." The colonel nervously patted his somewhat thin hair with his right hand. "You are quite right, my dear count, when you say quite simply we shall never regain our credit until we have got rid of Winkler. You call my attention to the impossible state of affairs among the officers and declare we cannot alter that until we get rid of Winkler. It is all very well to say that, but how will you get rid of him? I cannot indeed suggest any reasons for his exchange; when His Majesty learns the real reason, when he hears that even a single officer in the regiment does not hold Winkler in high esteem, and that it was he who gave information of the ill-treatment, then——" and the colonel shook his head. "It's not to be thought about; there will be such a crash as makes me shudder to think of. I told you how extremely highly and appreciatively His Majesty spoke of Winkler. Well, when I inform His Majesty that the man does not suit us, we shall get something compared with which all former ungracious remarks of His Majesty were but child's play. With all respect to my most gracious Sovereign, I cannot help saying, 'Do not go to your prince unless you are summoned.' I cannot, you see, suggest any reason to Winkler for his exchange, for if we are to be just, it must be confessed there is absolutely nothing against him."

The count went on polishing up his eyeglass, then he said: "What you say, sir, is very just. I was thinking over the matter last night, and I came to the conclusion that it would be ever so much better if Winkler's exchange did not emanate from us; he must himself apply for it, and if he will not do that, we must persuade him to get a year's furlough. Probably he would consider the matter in the interval, and would not care to put on a uniform again. But still, even if he does, after the disagreeable experience he has had with us, he will certainly not desire to rejoin us, but will get into another regiment."

The colonel had been listening attentively, now he nodded approvingly. "That would do, dear count, that's not a bad way out of the difficulty. Of course, I would recommend him most warmly for leave of absence, and as His Majesty regards him with great favour, there is not the slightest doubt that his request would be granted—if we can only once get him to make the request."

"We shall soon be able to do that, sir, I will speak to him at the very earliest opportunity."

In the evening of the same day on which the count and the colonel had been talking over George's future, George also conversed with Olga on the same subject.

"I am tired of the whole thing, Olga, I shall not stay here any longer; I am sick of knocking my head against a stone wall that divides me from my fellow-officers. I have made up my mind to-day, I shall give in my resignation."

Olga, who lately had been almost daily with George, and to whom he frankly expressed all his thoughts, had clearly foreseen that sooner or later it would come to this, nevertheless she was startled by his words, and sought to dissuade him but in vain.

"At least exchange into another regiment," she begged.

But George shook his head. "There's no object in that, dear. I know, of course, I should not be transferred to a miserable frontier garrison where one is nearly driven crazy; on the contrary, I should be sent to some fine town, but what should I do there? I know that I should take a certain position there, for one thing because I have been in the Guards, if only for a very short time, and that is thought much of in the provinces, and for another, because I am a rich man. For the latter reason alone I shall be heartily welcomed, for everybody will be delighted to be able to borrow from me. I know that from my former experience in the garrison, in all these little towns a newcomer who can be regarded as a new source for loans, is fÊted and welcomed like a god: and everybody borrows money from him, from the captain down to the youngest lieutenant—even the ensign plucks up his courage by aid of a drink, and requests the lieutenant most respectfully for a loan of twenty marks. I know the whole thing. I never asked for a promissory note when I lent the money, but they always gave me one, for in such matters, one must preserve formality and act correctly, but not a single man ever redeemed his I O U. They are all lying now in my writing-desk, carefully arranged, to some extent a contribution to the history of the manners and morals of German lieutenants, a contribution to the study of the characteristics of 'aristocratic persons.'"

He had risen and opened a drawer and was turning over the papers which he had taken out of a case.

"Look at these, Olga, you need not read the names, they are of no interest to you. Here is written: 'Herewith I pledge my word of honour to return the loan of five hundred marks within the next three months at latest.' 'Herewith I give my word of honour to return the thousand marks lent me to-day within——' and on, dear. Dozens of these documents are lying here; dozens of unredeemed pledges given on their word of honour, and yet these very men who have broken their pledge are going about in the world as haughty officers." He was silent for a moment, then he said, "By Jove! these lieutenants are quite different from other people; to a certain extent they form a class by themselves, and their ignorance and lack of understanding in certain matters are really more than naÏve. I confess I don't understand these aristocratic persons, and because I don't understand them I can find no excuse for their doings and acts, their thoughts and their feelings. I can forgive them for what they have done to me, difficult though that is, but I can scarcely endure their fine airs in Society, especially when there is scarcely any other class whose general education is so poor and lamentable as that of the officers. I was indeed nearly going to say they could neither read nor write properly."

"Now, now, George," admonished Olga, "you must not exaggerate because you are angry."

"I am not angry, I am only sad that things are so bad with our officers. But I really believe I have under-stated the case. The lieutenants can read, but can they also write? Look at these begging letters and promissory notes which I just showed you; you will find beauties of style there, compared with which those of the everlasting fourth-form boy of the comic papers are mere nothings. But that is not all. You will find such spelling as would bring down public rebuke upon a third-form boy. You may laugh, Olga, but what I tell you is the sad fact. Of course, my remarks only referred to the lieutenants, and not to the superior officers, but how often have I not noticed even among them how terribly embarrassed they are if they have to make a report suddenly. Every word is such an effort to them that one feels truly sorry for them. Yet, in spite of all this, in spite of the lack of the simplest culture, all this arrogance and self-complacence! Naturally, every one ought to be proud of his calling, but this pride ought not to degenerate into a perfectly fanatical arrogance. Formerly people spoke of the young, well-educated, knightly lieutenants, the perfect cavaliers. Where are they now? You must go with a lantern and search for them. I have scarcely known one during my time of service, and the few who enter the army straight from their home, fresh and unspoiled, are only too quickly infected with the spirit of caste, and the demon of haughtiness takes possession of them. Ask the parents whose sons have become officers whether they are not often shocked at the conceit and pretentiousness of the young fellows for whom the best is not considered good enough; whether they have not often bitterly repented having allowed their sons to choose a profession which often estranges them from their own parents, who are too often only regarded as the source of money for their frivolous or luxurious lives."

"George, you are exaggerating absurdly," said Olga, rebukingly.

"Do you really think so? I can only say I have often known young lieutenants who are really ashamed because their fathers are teachers or something similar, but in spite of this they are not ashamed to send home for more money in order to maintain a good appearance. They wish—no, according to their view they must give the idea of coming from good families. I was once at dinner and I heard with my own ears how a lieutenant pretended his father was a pensioned officer because he felt embarrassed at having to say he was a doctor."

"Fi, that's a beautiful idea."

Count Wettborn had, therefore, an easy task when he came to persuade George to go on furlough. He was much astonished when he heard that George was quite determined to send in his resignation, and to enter his father's factory; but, naturally, he made no attempt to dissuade him.

"And when do you think of sending in your request?"

"In a day or two. My father writes to me that he is commanded to an audience with His Majesty, and that he will be here at the beginning of next week. Although I am a completely free agent in this matter, and can go and come as I like, still I think it is my duty to inform my father of my resolution as soon as possible."

"Certainly, certainly," agreed Count Wettborn, "a week sooner or later makes no difference."

And that was just what the officers thought when they heard that Winkler was going. Whether he remained a week more or less—that was a matter of no importance—the thing was, they were going to get rid of him.

"I say, boys, we'll be a little bit nice to him during these last few days," suggested one of the officers. "We will behave as if we were rather sorry that he's going, for, after all, it's not exactly his fault that he doesn't suit us. Besides, it would be a good thing for us if the memory of his last days among us was a pleasant one; later on he will often tell stories of the days when he had the honour of belonging to us, and although, of course, it doesn't really matter what he says about us to his shopkeeper friends, still, it won't do us any harm if he says, 'The "Golden Butterflies" are a damned fine regiment; they're a charming set of good-hearted, dear fellows who are second to none in their friendliness and good fellowship.'"

But the proposal evoked no response. "For his own sake he won't say much about his dealings with us and how we drove him out."

But they all agreed, however, to drop every appearance of ill-will and to be, at least outwardly, polite and amiable during these last days.

George could scarcely suppress a contemptuous laugh when he noticed the sudden change of feeling, and an ironical word was always on the tip of his tongue when his comrades asked sympathetically after his future plans, and feigned interest in all his concerns. Often he was sorely tempted to cry out—"Don't trouble yourselves, you know you can't disguise your joy in getting rid of me." But he was silent. What was the good of saying anything, the officers would not have admitted their true feelings.

One day at lunch a comrade went so far as to offer him a glass of champagne. He had just won a few hundred marks in the Prussian lottery and had received permission from the eldest officer at the table to celebrate it in this way.

Winkler could scarcely believe his ears when his companion said to him: "You'll do me the pleasure of drinking a glass of champagne with me, won't you?"

George's first instinct was to cry out: "During the whole time that I have been here not a single human being has shown me the least kindliness; I must, therefore, decline the honour." Anger and indignation rose within him that now, just as he was leaving, anyone should dare to show hospitality to him, but suddenly his sense of humour got the upper hand, the invitation seemed so utterly absurd, and he accepted it with thanks. "But only on one condition," he added, following a sudden impulse, and then in a loud voice so that everyone could hear, "On the day when my resignation is accepted I should like to give a solemn farewell banquet to my fellow-officers. I can only accept an invitation if I know that I shall have an opportunity of returning it. You will come, will you not," he said, turning to his host, "and you—and you and you?" He invited everybody at the long table, and not a single one refused; all were thinking the same thing: "If it pleases him, why on earth shouldn't we for once have a good spread at his expense? One isn't, therefore, pledged to anything, the thing need go no further."

George was overcome by a feeling of repugnance towards his comrades when he found that they all accepted his invitation: were they not ashamed of accepting hospitality from a man whom they had treated so badly? He had been joking when he gave the invitation, and had felt quite certain that they would all have made excuses of some sort or another, and he had been pleased at the idea of these excuses, and now they had, one and all, accepted! And it did not stop there; the officers inquired when and where the dinner would be; not in the club-room, it was to be hoped. The rooms, of course, were beautiful, but always the same food. How nice it would be to have it in one of the best restaurants! A few pounds more or less wouldn't matter to him, of course, and they hoped he would order French champagne only.

"I heard rather a good story lately about that," said one of the officers; "let's see, what was it? Oh, yes, I remember; If you give your guest German champagne and tell him it is French, he will not be deceived, and will not drink it; but give him French champagne and say it is German he'll drink it right enough. Mind you make a note of that, Winkler." George promised to remember this and to send the invitations as soon as he had spoken to his father about it.

"When is your father coming?" George himself did not know, and expected him daily; so did the "Golden Butterflies." They began to get anxious when still the old fellow did not come. What if he was not coming at all? Perhaps it had been the stratagem of George's to speak about his resignation and to try and produce a change of feeling towards him; perhaps the old fellow would not appear for ages, and it had been a trick of George's to make fools of them, to make merry at their expense, and to a certain extent to have his revenge on them.

They were getting frightfully anxious about the matter; the joy, therefore, was great when one day at lunch in the Casino George's fellow-officer in his company, Baron von Masemann, informed them: "The manufacturer of trouser buttons has arrived. I saw him last night in a restaurant."

"Thank Heaven!" was uttered by all; and then the question was immediately asked, "What's he like?"

"Quite impossible. The fellow wears a ready-made tie, unstarched cuffs, and a pair of boots that one can see at a glance were never made in Berlin; and then at dinner the fellow cuts his bread with a knife instead of breaking it."

"How awful!"

An exclamation of genuine indignation arose from all present.

"Do stop," implored a young lieutenant; "remember we have only just had our lunch."

"Calm yourselves, my friends," continued the baron; "in spite of all drawbacks the old boy has one great advantage."

"And what is that?"

"He has a daughter."

"What, really! Winkler never told us a word about it."

All surrounded the speaker, eager with curiosity.

"Is she pretty?" asked one at last, and the others pressed more closely to hear the answer.

The baron purposely delayed his answer for some time, then he said: "Pretty? my dear boys, she's much more than that, and although she comes from the provinces she's awfully chic. But you must see her figure. I can tell you——" and he smacked his tongue.

"Did you get introduced to her?"

"Unfortunately, no; I was with friends in the restaurant, and had no opportunity of getting rid of them, but this evening it will be all right. I heard quite by chance that the old trouser-button manufacturer reserved a table for himself for to-day. I shall take good care to be there, and when once I am introduced to the young lady I have no fear about conquering."

"In other words, you are trying to catch the gold fish."

Baron von Masemann calmly lit a cigarette. "Someone will marry her. Why shouldn't I be that someone?"

"Quite so, but do you think the coup will be successful?"

The baron shrugged his shoulders. "Who can say? One can but try. After all, one can't get more than a refusal at the worst. And then why should the old boy say 'No,' if I only succeed in making the daughter infatuated about me? My family is first-class. I myself am not worse than other fellows, and the few debts I have are of no importance; the old fellow has plenty of money, and ought to be delighted if he can get such an aristocratic son-in-law for his money."

The others quite agreed; what reason indeed could the father and daughter possibly have for not receiving the baron with open arms? And thereupon several of them regarded the suggested engagement as a fait accompli.

"Were you on friendly terms with Winkler when you were together in the company?" one of the men asked. "Perhaps he'll have a word to say in the matter."

"I was thinking about that last night," replied Masemann. "We were certainly not particularly friendly, but still Winkler ought to be very glad to have me for a brother-in-law. In this way he will remain to a certain extent connected with the regiment, and that is really of very great advantage to him. Only think what a position the fellow will be able to take in Society if he can say, 'My brother-in-law, Baron Von Masemann.' That is almost as valuable to him as being aristocratic himself. Naturally I shall manage not to have too much of my brother-in-law, and shall see that he is not always running in and out of my house; but that's all later on, the present thing is to try one's luck."

But that evening the baron had no luck; he waited in vain for the Winklers. They were all sitting in George's rooms, and the honorary commercial adviser to the Emperor was telling them of the audience he had had with His Majesty, and how he had graciously inquired after George and expressed his pleasure at the way George had acted with regard to the ill-treatment of soldiers. He went on to tell them how pleased His Majesty was to hear a good report of him from the officers and of his popularity among his comrades. His Majesty greatly regretted that, owing to other arrangements, he could not keep his promise of asking George to dine with him to-morrow.

"Did I not always tell you so?" concluded the old man. "Do you remember how at first you wanted to fling down your gun in despair? Who was right—you or I?"

George exchanged a hasty glance with his sister, whom he had informed of his resolution yesterday; he had not wanted to spoil his father's pleasure in seeing him again on the very first day, and he also wanted to prevent his father from saying anything about his resignation in his audience with the Emperor. So he had kept silent till this moment, but now he was obliged to speak, and his father's last words made the task easy.

"What if I am right after all, father. When I tell you I am just as much an 'outsider' to-day as I ever was, when I tell you that my position in the regiment was not improved by His Majesty's praise of me, and that the officers' story of my popularity was simply a lie to avoid vexing the Emperor—what would you say then?"

The father looked at his son with astonishment.

"I do not understand what you mean!"

"I will explain myself a little more fully." And he proceeded to relate in detail all that had happened to him from the very first day he entered the regiment; how they longed for him to send in his resignation, and how, at last, he had made up his mind to do so, not to please the "Golden Butterflies," but simply in order to be able to enjoy life once more.

The father listened, absolutely disconcerted, then he struck a sounding blow on the table. "And what if I forbid you to do so, and order you to remain an officer for some time longer?"

George looked at him calmly. "You will not command me to do this, father. You told me when I entered the army I was perfectly free to leave it whenever I liked, and you will not go back from your word."

"But what if I do—what if I don't want the other officers to triumph in your failure?"

"Then I should resign in spite of it. I am of age and can do what I like."

The old man was on the verge of losing complete self-control. "And what if I disinherit you?"

"I should still do it. I have savings enough to live quite free from all anxiety for some time to come, and as your son I shall soon get employment somewhere."

Again his father was about to burst forth indignantly, when Elsa broke into the conversation and tenderly soothed him. "Don't oppose him any more," she entreated. "George thoroughly discussed the matter with me yesterday, and to-day I vainly tried to get him to change his mind; he is so unhappy as an officer that one can't wish him to be forced to endure it any longer."

The old man sat silent for a long time. "Mother will be frightfully upset," he said at last.

The brother and sister exchanged swift glances; they knew that the battle was won, but they took care not to give vent to their feeling of satisfaction.

"Won't you mind leaving the army?"

"How could I, after all the humiliation I have endured? I rejoice a thousandfold in taking off my officer's uniform, which apparently does not go with my views and ideas, although I did my duties very well compared with others."

"Is not every officer an enthusiastic soldier, then?" asked Elsa.

George burst out laughing. "You innocent angel! I can assure you at least half of the lieutenants would give in their resignations at once if they were in a financial position to do so. The best proof of my assertion is that every lieutenant tries to find a rich wife; when he has found one he either leaves the army immediately, or stays there as long as he gets any enjoyment from it. If it becomes too dull or worrying for him he throws up his commission and says to his superiors, 'See how you can manage to get along without me. Other people can be driven mad by your worrying ways, thank Heaven I am no longer obliged to put up with all these things.' Of course there are exceptions; there are the ambitious and energetic men who want to get big military appointments, who dream of red stripes on their trousers and the title of Excellency; it may be hard for such men to have to leave the army. And then there are certainly a few who are really soldiers, heart and soul, but their number is small—where are they to be found? Among the subordinate officers I have scarcely known a single lieutenant who did not curse and swear when he was set to perform a duty, and who would not have preferred to depart at once if only he knew how he was to earn his living. This sounds hard, but I assure you it is quite true. Even when a lieutenant says, 'I like being an officer,' it is generally because of the position it gives him in Society and not because he likes exercising and drilling the men. And it is just the same with the captain as with the lieutenant; his superiors are always running after him, they lead him a hell of a life, and are always reprimanding him for some fault or other committed by his men. Who could enjoy military duties under these circumstances? A man feels stifled. Yet the wretched captain must bear it all because he has a wife and children and no money, because he is forced to remain in the army as long as possible to get the higher pension and so be able to live. He is worried and bothered from morning to eve, and even then, in the majority of cases, he does not succeed in getting what he wants, and has later on to suffer poverty and misery; and if he abandons his uniform with regret it is not because he is sorry to leave the army, but because of his wasted life. He is in full possession of all his mental and physical faculties, and yet he is condemned to inactivity and ceaseless money worries. Among the superior officers there is certainly to be found an enthusiasm for the army. There is none among the subordinates, at least not in the infantry."

The father was peevish and ill-tempered; he controlled himself as well as he could, but from time to time his indignation burst forth, and his children found it difficult to appease him.

"And are you really going to give in your resignation to-morrow? Will you not consider it for another month? Why do you not get leave of absence for a year, or less, if you like?"

George shook his head. "The sooner I go the better, father. I don't get on among the officers, who often have the most extraordinary views on things." And, as if in confirmation of these words, the servant brought in a letter at that moment.

"Is there any answer?"

"No."

The servant went away and George opened the letter.

"Whatever is the matter?" asked Elsa, who had been watching her brother while he was reading.

George jumped up. "I have never heard such a piece of insolence in my whole life. Just listen to this; but first of all I must recall to you one of my fellow-officers who was sitting in the same restaurant with us yesterday."

"Oh, yes, that odd young man who was not quite sure at first whether he should bow to us, and then afterwards attempted to flirt with me so outrageously," said Elsa. "Well, what about him?"

"Not much," answered George apparently calmly. "He merely wishes to be allowed to ask for your hand."

Father and daughter looked at one another, speechless with astonishment, then Elsa broke into a hearty laugh, in which the others joined too.

"Why, he doesn't even know me," she said.

"Oh, that isn't in the least necessary; he knows your fortune, he knows that you are a very good parti, and naturally that's quite enough for him. A man can get on all right without love, but not without money. Well, now, listen to what this fine fellow writes. But I must tell you beforehand that from the first few of my comrades were so unfriendly to me as he was."

Then he read out the letter:

"Well, what do you say to that?" inquired George.

"Is it possible?" cried out the old manufacturer. "I must say I have never heard of such a thing in all my life."

"And what do you think about it, Elsa?"

"I really do not know whether to laugh or be angry about it. I can't think how he isn't ashamed to write such a letter."

George laughed mockingly. "Ashamed? Why, Elsa, you can know very little about a lieutenant if you think he would be ashamed of anything. Your beauty has turned his head, you have a big fortune, so that's all right; he marches to victory like Blucher to Waterloo. If he's successful, all right, if he's not, then he seeks his luck somewhere else; he means to catch a goldfish somewhere or other. The more impudent he is the more easily he attains to the object of his desires."

"Not as far as we are concerned," burst out the commercial adviser to the Emperor. "Please tell your aristocratic friend to-morrow from me——"

George interrupted him. "No, father, I have already settled about the answer. He won't much care about it, I can assure you. I am going to ask him how it is, that he has been unable to have any social intercourse with me and yet desires to marry my sister." After a pause he continued, "It is really a pity, Elsa, you are not going to stay here a few days, for then you would have had all the officers at your feet; all, from the oldest staff-officer down to the youngest lieutenant, would try to curry favour with me so that I might say a good word to you on their behalf. Your thousands would induce even the most aristocratic lieutenant who usually boasts of his numberless ancestors, to recognise the bourgeoisie and to condescend to make you his highly-honoured wife."

"A fine set of people these," said the father, angrily.

"I thank them for the honour they pay me in wishing to marry me for my money, but I don't think I want to marry at all."

George regarded his sister with amusement. "Ha, ha, one day you'll find the flame of love, and quite right too. By the way, how old are you—nineteen or twenty?"

"I am twenty-one now."

"And has no one seriously paid court to you?"

She burst out laughing. "Oh, often, like your comrade here to-day, but I did not care about any of them, for, oddly enough, it was always officers who paid me attention, always lieutenants, and, unfortunately, the only lieutenant whom I love I cannot get."

George looked at her wonderingly. "Why not?"

"Because he happens to be my brother."

Laughingly George drew his sister to him. "Come here, dear, and give me a kiss." Then he went on. "But seriously, Elsa, you have grown much more beautiful lately." He was delighted with his sister's looks: she had a slim figure, a proud bearing, beautiful eyes, and her whole appearance was charming.

"Do you know that you are very like Hildegarde in many ways?" he said, suddenly.

It was the first time that he had actually said her name to his people, and now that he had done it he felt shy and was quite embarrassed at his sister's glance.

Their father had meanwhile taken up the evening paper, now he laid it aside. "Go on, George, you yourself began it, you know. You have so often written to us about your Hildegarde. Who and what is she, and how do you stand with regard to her?"

George tried to avoid answering, but Elsa urged him to speak. "Do tell me something about her. In your letters you could not write enough about her—at any rate, in the beginning! lately I have heard much less about her. Is she vexed with you about anything?"

"No, I don't think so," answered George, after a moment's thought; "at any rate I do not know of any reason for it. I told you that Hildegarde was a relative of my captain, who is now undergoing imprisonment in a fortress. Naturally during this time Frau von Warnow does not go out, and so, lately, I have only seen Hildegarde once or twice quite casually in the street."

"Haven't you spoken to her at all?"

"Twice I meant to do so, but I should have had to inquire how the Warnows were, and, of course, that would be very disagreeable for me."

"But how do you stand with regard to her," his father asked for the second time. "You know your mother has prophesied for a long time that you were going to get engaged to her. Is she right?"

"As you ask me straight out, I will tell you that at first I had the same idea, and I think that if this horrible business had not come between us, and if we had seen one another more often, things would have been all right, but now——"

Elsa saw such a sorrowful and despairing look in her brother's face that she said to him, "But won't you find it very hard to go away without seeing her again?"

"I shall see her once again," answered George, with determination. "I shall pay a farewell visit. I shall ask Hildegarde to name an hour when I am sure to see her." And then, acting on a sudden impulse, he said: "By the way, Elsa, I told Hildegarde all sorts of things about you. I told her you wanted to become acquainted with her, and she was delighted. Will you do me a favour and call upon her, or, better still, ask her to call upon you at the hotel? I will be there, too, and then when we meet again after several weeks we shall know what we feel towards one another, and if Hildegarde loves me, then——"

"Not so fast, my boy, not so fast," put in the old man. "I am still in existence. I should like to see my future daughter-in-law before I am called up to consent and say 'Amen.'"

George had a sudden vision of Hildegarde; the memory of the delightful hours they had spent together awakened in him a great longing to see her again.

"Oh, you will like Hildegarde, father, she is beautiful and good, and in spite of her aristocratic birth she does not share the often extraordinary views of her class. I have told her a great deal about you, father; about the factory, your consideration for your workpeople, your ceaseless activity, and she was interested in and understood everything." He spoke of her with an ardour and an enthusiasm which showed how much he cared for her.

"And what sort of a family has she?" inquired old Winkler. "You know I don't care whether she has money or not—you need not trouble about that—what I mean is, do you know anything about her relations? Has she any brothers and sisters? What are her parents?"

George gave what information he could.

"Oh, so there's a scamp of a lieutenant," grumbled the father; "instead of parents who have no money making their son learn some business or other, the young fellows have to become officers, so that they may get drunk on champagne at the regimental banquet."

"But Hildegarde cannot help that," George said, as if he had to protect her: "and what does her brother matter to me?"

"What does he matter? Well"—the old man got up—"a man does not only marry a wife, but the whole family, take that from me, my boy, and so, before taking any steps, we must look into things a bit. But I will frankly confess one thing to you: I have privately long desired you to marry. It's all the same to me whom, as long as you love her. Well, now we can go and see your Hildegarde."