whisperings or to what he himself had at some time seen his wife do--it
was impossible for her to play the hypocrite--I really do not know. At
any rate he began to abuse her in the most perfidious manner. He tried
to disturb her conscience. One night he went to her bed with a crucifix
in his hand, and made her swear, swear on the life of her child, that
she would never deceive him. He used all manner of threats and unctuous
fustian. She took the oath."

"Yes, my friend, she took the oath. And this oath seemed to her much
more solemn and serious than the oath she had taken at the altar the day
they were married. I knew nothing about it; she kept out of my sight. I
could not endure it. One day she came to me again to say good-bye. There
followed a moment when human strength was no longer of avail, and human
deliberation the emptiest of words. The fatal situation developed. The
delicately moulded woman succumbed to a sense of guilt; her heart grew
irresponsive to feelings, her mind dark. She was stricken with the
delusion that her child was slowly dying in her arms, and one day she
collapsed completely. The rest is known."

Benda got up, went over to the window, and looked out into the darkness.

Daniel felt as if a rope were being tightened about his neck. He too got
up, murmured a farewell, and left.

IV

He had reached the Behaim monument when he began to walk more slowly. A
short distance before him he saw a man and a woman. He recognized
Dorothea.

They were speaking very rapidly and in subdued tones. Daniel followed
them; and when they reached the door of his house and turned to go in,
he stopped in the shadow of the church.

The man seemed to be angry and excited: Dorothea was trying to quiet
him. She was standing close by him; she held his hand in hers until she
unlocked the door. First she whispered, looked up at the house
anxiously, and then said out loud: "Good night, Edmund. Sweet dreams!"

The man went on his way without lifting his hat. Dorothea hastened in.

Daniel was trembling in his whole body. There was something in his eyes
that seemed to be beseeching; and there was something mystic about them.
He watched until the light had been lighted upstairs and the window
shade drawn. He was tortured by the stillness of the Square; when the
clock in the tower struck eleven he thought he could hear the blood
roaring in his ears.

It was only with difficulty that he