Reimers had never interested himself particularly in parliamentary or political controversies,--an officer should hold aloof from such matters,--he was therefore not inclined to lay so much stress as his friend did on the influence of revolutionary politicians.
The evil was great enough without that. Was not an army that went into the field without enthusiasm beaten beforehand? And the thoughts suggested to him by the reflections of the colonel and of his friend all pointed to a similar conclusion. They seemed to stand like warning signposts beside the road on which the German army was marching; and all, all, bore upon their outstretched pointing arms the ominous word--Jena.
The sinister idea haunted Reimers like a ghost. If he sat down to his books it was there; and it fell across his vision like a dark shadow when the sun shone its bravest on the imposing array of the batteries at exercise.
His old friends had gone far away; and if Reimers looked into his own mind he was obliged to admit that he could not greatly regret this. It was indeed better so. The delightful intimate relations between himself and those dear people had already been destroyed by scarcely perceptible degrees.
The thought of Marie Falkenhein weighed on him the least heavily. When he had once got over the first bitter sorrow at his ill fortune he thought of her, strangely enough, with no desperate longing, but rather with a feeling of shame. The young girl did not represent the immediate necessity of his life which he now found lacking. That lay in a different sphere.
For this reason he was glad that Falkenhein and Güntz had left the garrison. No one should be there to see how the guiding star which he had followed so ardently all his days was now setting in diminished glory: no one should be by when his whole life suffered shipwreck.
The regiment was now under orders to march to the practice-camp. A few days before the departure Reimers ordered his man to bring him his portmanteau.
He wanted to see if the faithful old trunk, which had accompanied him on all his travels, was still in proper condition. It needed no attention.
"Shall I take off the labels?" asked his servant. "Then perhaps, I could freshen it up a little with varnish."
The trunk displayed a vast number of hotel and luggage labels. His journey to Egypt, in particular, had left brightly-coloured traces.