new not whither; the subject of a fascinating dream--no
more.

They met continually now--mostly at dusk--during the brief interval
between the going down of the sun and the minute at which the last
trumpet-call summoned him to his tent. Perhaps her manner had become
less restrained latterly; at any rate that of the Hussar was so; he had
grown more tender every day, and at parting after these hurried
interviews she reached down her hand from the top of the wall that he
might press it. One evening he held it so long that she exclaimed, 'The
wall is white, and somebody in the field may see your shape against it!'

He lingered so long that night that it was with the greatest difficulty
that he could run across the intervening stretch of ground and enter the
camp in time. On the next occasion of his awaiting her she did not
appear in her usual place at the usual hour. His disappointment was
unspeakably keen; he remained staring blankly at the spot, like a man in
a trance. The trumpets and tattoo sounded, and still he did not go.

She had been delayed purely by an accident. When she arrived she was
anxious because of the lateness of the hour, having heard as well as he
the sounds denoting the closing of the camp. She implored him to leave
immediately.

'No,' he said gloomily. 'I shall not go in yet--the moment you come--I
have thought of your coming all day.'

'But you may be disgraced at being after time?'

'I don't mind that. I should have disappeared from the world some time
ago if it had not been for two persons--my beloved, here, and my mother
in Saarbruck. I hate the army. I care more for a minute of your company
than for all the promotion in the world.'

Thus he stayed and talked to her, and told her interesting details of his
native place, and incidents of his childhood, till she was in a simmer of
distress at his recklessness in remaining. It was only because she
insisted on bidding him good-night and leaving the wall that he returned
to his quarters.

The next time that she saw him he was without the stripes that had
adorned his sleeve. He had been broken to the level of private for his
lateness that night; and as Phyllis considered herself to be the cause of
his disgrace her sorrow was great. But the position was now reversed; it
was his turn to cheer her.

'Don't grieve, meine Liebliche!' he said. 'I have got a remedy for
whatever comes. First, even supposing I regain my stripes, would yo