"Of course," Nora said. She was a little overwhelmed by the respect which this vastly older and wiser personage displayed towards her, and for the first time she realised that she had married a man on whom the military world already cast eyes of interest and envy. "I should only be too grateful for your friendship," she went on. "I know no one here, and Berlin is so big and strange to me. When Wolff is on duty I feel quite lost."
"And a leetle Heimweh?" Frau von Seleneck suggested quickly. "I know not what the word is in English, but it is a terrible pain. I have it here"—she put her hand to her heart—"every year, once for two months, when Kurt is in the manoeuvres, and I weep—I weep whole buckets full."
Nora started.
"Two months!" she said, horror-struck. "And will Wolff be away all that time?"
"Aber natürlich, liebes Kind! Even your Wolff will not be excused again. The Emperor has no heart for the poor wives. But you must not complain. You must laugh and be happy—at any rate, until your husband has gone. I always send mine away with a big smile, and tell him I am glad to be rid of him. Afterwards I weep. It is a great comfort to weep, but men like not tears. It makes them uncomfortable, and besides, one must not make their duty harder than it is."
"Of course not," Nora said bravely. "I shall do all I can to help him. And one can write lots of letters, can't one?"
"Every day, and twice a day," declared her visitor cheerily, as she arose. "Ach, you will be a good soldier's wife soon. And now I must go and see that my silly Bertha has not put all the salt-box in the soup. But if you will let me I will come again, and bring my Kurt with me. He was dying to come this time, but I would have none of him. Men are such a nuisance, nicht wahr! And then you must come and see us, and we will talk German together, and you shall know all my friends, and we will help each other like gute Kameraden."
A warm, hurried embrace, and plump, smiling-faced Frau von Seleneck was out of the room and on the tiny landing. A last pressure of the hand, a hearty "Aufwiedersehen!" and she had disappeared into a foggy atmosphere of pea-soup and Sauerkraut.
Nora went back into the disordered little drawing-room, and set to work with a new will. The spirit of cheery content and selflessness had been left sitting on the sofa, and it seemed to chuckle in a peculiar, fat, comfortable way as Nora pushed the chairs backwards and forwards in the vain attempt to induce an air of elegance.
"Even if she does admire the furniture, and think the flat perfection, she has a good, kind heart," Nora thought. "I am glad we are going to be friends."