For a moment he halted at the door. He thought he discovered the scent of cigarette smoke. Then he felt his way towards the table, found a box of matches, and lighted a candle. Then he saw his wife recumbent on the sofa. The sight touched him. Had this faithful soul awaited his coming so long, in order to offer him a cup of coffee? Doubtless sleep had overtaken her, and she had not heard his step. So he cautiously approached her and imprinted a kiss on her forehead. A nervous cry escaped her, and she quickly rose. “Oh, it is you, Franz. Where did you stay so long?” “Do not be angry with me, my angel, that I kept you awake so long; but I really never dreamed that you would do this. Why did you not retire long ago?” The words sounded so full of affection,--almost like an excuse, like a prayer for forgiveness,--but they did not touch her; she simply yawned with some affectation, and stretched her arms as if dying for a sound sleep. “Why, you know, Franz, that I had to wait for you; you were again in a fearful condition. When I saw you sitting in that way I felt so miserable that I could bear it no longer, and went home.” “Alone,--so late at night? Why did you not have one of the orderlies escort you?” “Borgert took me as far as the door; he offered to be my escort.” “Well, I’ll have to thank him for that to-morrow, and, come to think of it, he is always very attentive to you. Where did he go afterwards; I never set eyes on him again the whole night.” “He complained of a headache, and seemed to have had enough of the whole show. I suppose he went to bed long ago.” “Why didn’t you offer him a cup of coffee?” “But, Franz, what would the servants think if they heard me coming home with a gentleman so late at night? That would never do. Our maid, Marie, anyway, is listening and spying continually, and one has to take care not to let her hear things. I presume she has been telling tales out of school as it is.” “Send her away then, if you have no confidence in her.” “I would have done it long ago, but I can’t let her go until we have paid her wages. We’re several months behind with her.” “Then pay her to-morrow.” “What with? Have you any money?” “I? What an idea. You know perfectly well that the few marks of my pay could never keep this household running. Hasn’t your mother sent the allowance this month?” “No, she hasn’t anything to spare this time.” “Oh, of course,--the old story.” “Is that meant for reproach? You knew yourself that we were not rich. Do me the favor, therefore, to spare me your hints and complaints. I find them tactless and inappropriate at this late time.” “Yes, you never want to hear about that. You ought to have known before you married me that to keep house without money is a beastly nuisance. Now we have this ceaseless dunning every day: one day it’s the butcher, the next the baker, and the day after the laundress,--and they all want money. I can’t cut it out of my hide.”