Reimers hastened homewards, much perturbed in spirit. He was due at the Güntzes' to supper at half-past eight. It had already struck the hour, and he had yet to dress; for the colonel, who would probably be there too, objected to see his officers in mufti, except when shooting or some great sporting occasion was the excuse.
He found everything ready to his hand. Gähler was very satisfactory and most thoughtful, even to setting a bottle of red wine and a carafe of cool spring water on a table. A glass of water with a dash of wine in it was the best thing to quench one's thirst after playing tennis.
He hastily tossed off a glassful. It cooled him wonderfully. He poured out a second and drank it more slowly. The water was so cold as to dew the glass, yet it seemed powerless to quench the fire which consumed his throat, his breast, his head.
He began to dress hurriedly. He had but a few minutes. He was ready but for his coat, when suddenly everything around him seemed to vanish into endless distance. He felt loosed from time and space.
Mechanically he let himself slip into a chair, covering his face with his hands and closing his eyes.
He thought of Hannah von Gropphusen. How beautiful she was! How marvellously beautiful! He thought of that one look she had bestowed on him; of the silent question spoken by her lovely shy eyes. He guessed it to be: "Shall I really be happy once more? Dare I hope it? Is it indeed you who will bring me happiness?" Out of an unfathomable abyss of doubt and misery she appealed to him thus.
How unhappy was this woman! and how beautiful!
The door opened. Gähler came in.
"What do you want?" demanded Reimers.
"Beg pardon, sir," stammered the fellow, "I thought you were ready."