Agatha had now risen from her knees, and was sitting in her chair casting looks of pain at Erna and waiting in patience, until at least the first tempest of wrath should have passed.
"I am sure," she said at last, "that he does not even know that she is here, and--you are sure, too."
"And were it so," cried Erna, "what does it alter? The sting lies in her daring to do it at all. She would not do so, did she not know from the beginning how he will take it. Perhaps he will be terrified just at first--I dare say he will--and then he will thank her for having had the base courage to help him to achieve this vile triumph. In fact, they are a worthy couple!"
"It would be quite too terrible," said Agatha, shaking her head. "People cannot be as bad as that; it is impossible."
"Oh, of course!" cried Erna scornfully; "quite impossible; as impossible as that he will himself be here to-morrow."
"But, Erna, an officer is surely bound to go to any place to which he is ordered. In such a case he has no will of his own."
"Then he should have a pistol of his own, and rather put a bullet into his head than let a shameless woman make him figure in such a spectacle, if indeed she, the wretch, has arranged a spectacle for my humiliation. But she is very much mistaken. I shall not let her have her triumph. I, even I, shall triumph. Let her boast of her conquest, I shall outshine it and her by far. Oh! how I look forward to to-morrow's joy! What are a thousand like him to the best of men, the only one?"
"Erna! Erna!!" cried Agatha aghast, lifting both her folded hands in agonised entreaty, "I conjure you, do not go too far. Do not make yourself for ever unhappy. Do not make Kurt unhappy...."
"Do not mention his name!" Erna exclaimed. "I wish to hear no more."
"I must mention his name, for I must speak of him, and you must hear me, lest you do something of which you will for ever and ever repent."