tears of heaven as though they were costly wine.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

But in the morning, when the sand in the Grunewald had swallowed up
all the rain, and nothing was left of the storm that had cleared the
air during the night but the somewhat fresher green of the lawns, a
stronger smell of the pines and many fallen acorns and chestnuts on the
promenade, Wolfgang thought differently again. The day was beautiful;
he could swim, ride, go to the office for a short time, eat, drink,
play tennis, make an appointment for the evening--there were so many
places where you could amuse yourself--and why should he spoil this
splendid day for himself and, after all, his father too? He thrust
every graver thought aside as burdensome. But his soul was not at peace
all the same. He tried to deaden thought.

Kate did not fall asleep so quickly as on the previous night; even
if she had promised herself not to sit up and wait for him any more,
she could not sleep if he were not at home. She heard the clocks strike
terribly loudly, as she had done on a former occasion; every noise,
even the slightest, penetrated to her ear through the stillness of the
house, sounding much louder. She would hear him, she must hear him as
soon as he stuck the key into the front door.

But she heard nothing, although she lay long awake listening. The
hours crept on, the day dawned, a pale streak of light no broader than
her thumb stole through the closed shutters; she saw it on the wall
opposite to her bed. The light became gradually less and less wan, more
decided in colour, a warm, sunny, ruddy gold. No cock proclaimed the
new day with triumphant crow, the house was so quiet, the garden so
silent, but the light betrayed that it was morning.

She must have slept, however, without knowing it. What, was it
already morning? She was sure now that he must have been at home a long
time, she had simply not heard him come in. That calmed her. But she
dressed hurriedly, without paying as much attention to her dress as
usual, and she could not resist standing outside his door to listen
before going down to breakfast. He was not up yet--of course not, he
had come home so late--he was still asleep. She would be able to look
at him without his knowing. She went in, but he was not asleep.

The woman looked at the bed with bewildered eyes--there it was,
open, invitingly white and comfortable, but he was not in it. The bed
ha