The sergeant-major, however, was unaware of anything lacking in their relations; when he felt he had discharged his duty thoroughly his heart glowed with satisfaction, and he resolved never to fall back into his old follies.
He felt very awkward about his compulsory marriage; but happily no one seemed to think the worse of him for it. People considered it natural enough that a healthy young couple under one roof, with only a dying woman between them, should have been carried away by their passion.
The peace which now reigned in his dwelling seemed to him something unwonted and delightful. He began to change his manner of life completely, and, instead of frequenting public-houses, spent his evenings cosily at home. In order to save fuel, Ida had made the kitchen more habitable; and the sergeant-major, luxuriously ensconced in Julie's armchair, would watch the fire glowing through the stove door, and Ida bustling about her household tasks. Then, before turning in, he had to go once more through the stables, between the ranks of sleeping horses, the stable-guard emerging from the darkness of some corner to make his report. The sharp frosty air of the nights, after the moist aromatic warmth of the stables, would make the sergeant-major shiver and draw his cloak closer around him. He would settle himself anew by the stove, watching his young wife, whose quick, clever hands were busy with baby-clothes; and at such moments, tired by an honest day's work, Heppner felt himself to be a thoroughly good fellow.
During the course of the summer, Albina Worzuba had been brought home as a bride by Deputy sergeant-major Heimert, to the Schumanns' old quarters next door.
The married life of the young pair began happily. Albina was brimming over with affection for her husband, and Heimert felt he could not show his wife too much attention.
Ere long Frau Heimert played a leading rôle in the little world of the barracks. The wives of the non-commissioned officers listened more or less dubiously to the romantic tale of her origin, and envied her the all-powerful money at her disposal. For not only did she give one pure coffee from the bean,--no chicory mixture,--but she was also extremely fashionable in her attire, rustling about in silk-lined skirts, so that folk turned to look as she passed them. The good women considered her gowns altogether too noticeable. And such undergarments as she possessed! Red and yellow silk chemises and drawers, trimmed with the finest lace. Such lovely jewellery, too! Yes, indeed, Frau Heimert must come of well-to-do people. That was obvious in everything belonging to her, her house, her clothes, her linen. Her expensive musk scent penetrated even into the men's quarters.
Albina accepted the honour paid her with the airs of a little queen. She spared neither her good coffee nor her good nature; she wore her dresses, which she said came from one of the leading firms, with an easy grace. In reality, she bought them from an old "friend," part of whose business it was to be always in the latest Paris mode.
The non-coms.' wives envied Frau Heimert's taste, and tried to copy her manner and deportment. Only the fair-haired little Berlin seamstress, Frieda, Sergeant Wiegandt's sweetheart, found fault with her. Once at the non-commissioned officers' summer fête, that young person--who, by-the-by, was almost suspected of being a red-hot little social-democrat--saw Albina, and had the courage to declare, "That creature?--Otto, she's a----no! I won't soil my mouth with the dirty word. But I know that sort of truck! In some matters you men are just as blind and as stupid as new-born kittens."
Seeing Albina surrounded by lieutenants and non-coms., dancing first with one and then with another, Frieda grew quite excited.
"Otto," cried she, "if you dare to dance with that baggage, all is over between us. It's like flies buzzing about a sugar-cake."