Once more saying, "Forgive me, won't you?" she departed.
Güntz meanwhile had not been able to quiet the little screamer, and was glad enough when Kläre took the child from him.
"What is the matter with her?" he asked.
Kläre shrugged her shoulders. "She did not tell me; perhaps she could not. The trouble may be too profound, too terrible."
"You have left her alone?"
"She has gone."
The senior-lieutenant looked out of window. His wife, with the baby in her arms, came and stood beside him.
"See!" he cried. "There she goes! Young, beautiful, rich, fashionable--has she not everything to make her happy?" And shaking his head he added, "Poor, poor woman!"
He vowed to himself not to make depreciatory remarks about the Gropphusen in the future. One thing, however, he felt he must impress on his wife: "Look here, Kläre," he cautioned her, "you won't let her hold the boy often, will you?"
With the returning spring Hannah von Gropphusen seemed to awaken from her depression. She had one great passion, to which she eagerly resorted as soon as the days became fit for it: this was tennis.