“No, Franz, you will do nothing of the kind.”
He endeavored to read her face. But the darkness showed him only that her head was turned toward him.
He was silent a few moments more. Then he spoke quietly: “You need not fear; I shall not do it.”
They walked toward the farther shore. “Don’t you hear a noise?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Something is coming from the other side,” he said.
A slow rumbling came out of the darkness. A little red light gleamed out at them. They could see that it hung from the axle of a clumsy country cart, but they could not see whether the cart was laden or not and whether there were human beings on it. Two other carts followed the first. They could just see the outlines of a man in peasant garb on the last cart, and could see that he was lighting his pipe. The carts passed them slowly. Soon there was nothing to be heard but the low rolling of the wheels as their own carriage followed them. The bridge dropped gently to the farther shore. They saw the street disappear into blackness between rows of trees. Open fields lay before them to the right and to the left; they gazed out into gloom indistinguishable.
There was another long silence before Franz spoke again. “Then it is the last time—”
“What?—” Emma’s tone was anxious.
“The last time we are to be together. Stay with him, if you will. I bid you farewell.”
“Are you serious?”