He threw himself on the narrow sofa with a cry of despair and covered his face with his hands, while Frau Leimann cowered before the grate on a small stool. With eyes hollow from much weeping and many sleepless nights, she gazed into the dying fire. This was all the warmth which they could expect that night, for their means were entirely exhausted. Both of them kept silence for a while, and then Borgert spoke. The woman trembled at the sound of his voice, as if she were awaking from a fearful dream. “And what is to become of us now?” said he, very low. She did not answer him, but continued to gaze into the faintly glowing coals, and a tear slowly coursed down her pale, emaciated face. “To-morrow we shall have to leave this house, for we are unable to pay, and then no other refuge is left us but the streets.” “You must work, George,” replied the woman in a tear-choked voice, although she tried to infuse some energy into her tones. “Have I not tried?” replied he, with a shrug. “But haven’t they dismissed me every time without warning? And besides, there is no use for my trying again. How can I work? I’ve never learned it.” “But something must be done; we must find a way out of this,” Frau Leimann cried out, and her voice sounded shrill. “If you intend to leave me to misery, you ought not to have enticed me away from home.” “Enticed?” Borgert mimicked her. “Who has enticed you? Was it not you who implored me to let you come with me because you were unable to endure any longer the life you were leading with your noble husband?” “If I did so, you, as a man, ought to have had enough common-sense to talk me out of my intention.” “I should like to know what man is able to talk an idea out of the head of a woman.” “Do not speak this way, George; it is worse than frivolous. Summon all your courage and energy and let us see what can be done. There must be a remedy.” “There is!” retorted Borgert, throwing a loaded revolver on the crazy table. A tremor shot through the woman, and for a moment she leaned against the wall as if ready to swoon, while her wide-opened eyes stared with fear at the little instrument, the glittering steel of which reflected the glowing embers in the grate. “By all that is sacred,” her voice came hysterically, “are you out of your senses!” “On the contrary,” replied Borgert, coolly; “it is the only way out of all our difficulties, and it is not the first time I have had the thought. Is it not better to put an end to this dog’s life than to die by inches in penury and distress?”