They left the town behind them and walked their horses through the long allées of stately trees. Almost without their knowledge their conversation, broken and curiously strained as it was, dropped into silence. The deadened thud of their horses' hoofs upon the soft turf was the only sound that broke the morning stillness, and the mists hanging low upon the earth, as yet undisturbed by the rising winter sun, intensified the almost ghostly forest loneliness. It was a loneliness that pierced like a cold wind through Nora's troubled soul. Though they had ridden the same way before, at the same hour, surrounded by the same grey shadows, she had never felt as she felt now—that they, alone of the whole world, were alive and that they were together. The clang of the park gates behind them had been like a voice whose warning, jarring tones echoed after them in the stillness, "Now you are alone—now you are alone!" What was there in this loneliness and silence? Why did it suffocate, oppress her so that she would have been thankful if a sudden breeze had stirred the fallen leaves to sound and apparent life? Why had she herself no power to break the silence with her own voice? She glanced quickly at the man beside her. Did he also feel something of what she was experiencing that he had become so silent? Usually a fresh, vigorous gaiety had laughed out of his eyes to meet her. To-day he did not seem to know that she had looked at him, or even that she was there. His gaze was set resolutely ahead, his lips beneath the short fair moustache were compressed in stern, thoughtful lines which changed the whole character of his face, making him older, graver. Believing herself unobserved, even forgotten, Nora did not look away. She saw Arnim in a new light, as the worker, the soldier, the man of action and iron purpose. Every line of the broad-shouldered figure in the grey Litewka suggested power and energy, and the features, thrown into shadow by his officer's cap, were stamped with the same virile characteristics translated into intellect and will.
"What a man you are!" was the thought that flashed through Nora's mind, and even in that moment he turned towards her.
"It seems we are not the only ones out this morning," he said quietly. "There is a rider coming towards us—Bauer, if I am not mistaken. Let us draw a little on one side."
She followed his guidance, at the same time looking in the direction which he had indicated. The mists were thinning, and she caught the flash of a pale-blue uniform, and a moment later recognised the man himself.
"Yes, it is Lieutenant Bauer," she said.
The new-comer drew in his horse to a walk and passed them at the salute. Nora caught a glimpse of his face and saw there was an expression of cynical amusement which aroused in her all the old instinctive aversion. She stiffened in her saddle and the angry blood rushed to her cheeks.
"I am glad he is not in your regiment," she said impulsively.
"Why, Miss Ingestre?"
"Because I dislike him," she answered.
He did not smile at her blunt reasoning—rather, the unusual gravity in his eyes deepened.