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Traces of such pain he had seen in Reimers' hopeless eyes; for his child he might expect a cure. The best thing would be to take Marie away into entirely new surroundings. As usual, each year during the partridge-shooting, the colonel one day received an invitation to join the royal party. At breakfast the old king asked him: "Well, Falkenhein, what do you say?
In the mess-room the staff-officers and the captains were standing near the table, which was already laid. It was a few minutes before half-past seven. Only the colonel had not come yet. Andreae, the senior staff-surgeon, gave Reimers a friendly nod through the doorway. Reimers was his show patient. The specialist had shrugged his shoulders, but he, Andreae, had not thrown up the sponge.
"That the Lord will grant her eternal rest? Look at her, then! Isn't eternal rest written on her face?" Reimers reached the practice-camp again when his brother-officers were at mess. It was only on alighting from the carriage that he remembered Frommelt's commission. He was staggered a little at this neglect; but after all what did such trifles matter?
Some weeks later the head physician of the military hospital in the capital gave a lecture, with illustrations, before the Medical Society, "Upon an interesting case of the effects of small bore ammunition." Senior-Lieutenant Reimers sought an interview with his colonel, and frankly confided his trouble to him. In a sad, hopeless voice he told the whole story, concealing nothing.
They were resting a little before turning homewards. Landsberg had thrown himself down on the grass, and was gazing fixedly upwards. Reimers disapproved of the attitude, thinking it too cavalier altogether, and glowered at him. Unintentionally he followed the direction of his brother-officer's gaze.
At this Reimers could not help laughing, and his "Hold your tongue," did not sound to Gähler particularly angry. But if Count Vocking possessed fewer books than the lieutenant, he apparently surpassed him greatly in other respects. As Gähler was arranging the washhand stand, he remarked: "The count had lots of little boxes and bottles, with real silver tops."
"But is that necessary?" asked Reimers. "I think so. You see we have not been able to find the things anywhere. You must describe the books you know the usual binding and then they must be sought for very thoroughly." "Very good. I will go." At every shot he started in his saddle, and when the battery took up a change of position he entirely forgot to ride into his place.
Only the tip of her foot was visible in the lamplight, a beautiful, narrow, elegantly-shod foot, which was swinging rapidly backwards and forwards. To avoid catching her eye, Reimers turned to Marie Falkenhein, his neighbour. The Maibowle had got into his head a little.
There were brighter pictures, of early Mexican-Californian life, a pastel of twilight eucalyptus with a sunset-tipped mountain beyond, by Reimers, a moonlight by Peters, and a Griffin stubble-field across which gleamed and smoldered California summer hills of tawny brown and purple- misted, wooded canyons.
Captain von Wegstetten, as head of the battery; Captain Güntz, who had commanded it during Wegstetten's temporary absence; Senior-lieutenant Reimers and Lieutenant Landsberg, as officers in the battery; the sergeant-major and other non-commissioned officers: all united in giving Vogt the very best possible character.
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