"There's no beer, Albina," he said; "you must have been mistaken."
He sat down slowly at the table, and drummed gently with his fingers on a plate. The guilty pair were as if stunned by the fervour of their embrace; though little suspecting that the betrayed husband had witnessed it. They did not respond to his remark, and seemed lost to time and space. Neither did they notice that a long, oppressive silence had fallen on them, that the lamp was burning low, and the room darkening.
At last Heimert drew out his watch. "It's time to go to bed," he said; "we've got to get up to-morrow morning."
Heppner and Albina awoke suddenly from their entranced condition, and the sergeant-major hastened to say good night.
Quickly Albina prepared for bed. Usually she went through many ceremonies with a view to preserving her beauty: she rubbed her skin with lanoline, or sprinkled it with powder, to keep it soft and smooth; she spread a perfumed emollient on her hands, afterwards drawing on gloves to prevent them from losing their whiteness with rough work. But to-night she merely loosened her hair, and was between the sheets in a trice.
Heimert lay sleepless. Hour after hour he heard strike; the short May night seemed to him an eternity.
The woman beside him had sunk into a deep slumber. Now and then her breathing quickened, and she gave almost a gasp, flinging herself about as though in a troubled dream.
With the dawn of morning Heimert came to a decision. He would not allow himself to believe in Albina's guilt. He had noticed that when Heppner threw his arm around her she had shrunk from him. (This was true enough; Albina had winced; but it was on account of her artistically dressed hair.) She had submitted, he forced himself to think, in the paralysis of surprise. In such a case Heppner, no doubt, would have scolded his wife for not confessing. By right she ought certainly to have told her husband. But Heimert found a thousand excuses for her. Albina knew his jealousy, and desired, possibly, to avoid scandal, which would have been inevitable had she told him. Or perhaps she would speak to him about it after she had thought it over quietly by herself. Or, again, she might intend to deal with the sergeant-major in her own way. Or, once more, perhaps she was just beginning to yield to the temptation.
That was as might be. Anyhow, the affront was there: his wife had been insulted, and he, Heimert, must obtain satisfaction. He would set about it quite quietly, so as to avoid the gossip; but between men such an injury must mean a duel.
The officers always acted on that principle, and what was right for them must be right for the non-coms., who also wore swords at their sides. But all the ceremonial of a court of honour and seconds was not necessary among common folk like Heppner and himself. Alone, without witnesses, as man to man they would fight it out.