"You must forgive my taking so much of your husband’s time, _gnädige Frau_," he said as he kissed Nora’s hand. "I had some rather stiff calculations, and I simply couldn’t do them alone—you have no doubt heard what a dull person I am—so I came round to Arnim for help. There is nothing like having a clever junior, is there?" He turned to Wolff with his easy, untroubled smile, but Wolff’s face remained serious. He was buckling on his sword in preparation for departure, and appeared not to have heard his major’s facetious self-depreciation. "By the way, I have a small invitation for you, _gnädige Frau_," the elder officer went on. "A sort of peace-offering, as it were. My wife is driving out to see the Kaiser’s review this afternoon, and asks if you would care to accompany her. If you have not seen it before it will be well worth your while to go." "Thank you. I should be delighted!" Nora said eagerly. She knew Major von Hollander’s wife as a harmless if rather colourless woman, who had as yet shown no signs of joining in the general boycott to which Nora was being subjected. Besides, every instinct in her clamoured for freedom from her thoughts and from the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere of this home, which seemed now less a home than a prison. She accepted the offer, therefore, with a real enthusiasm, which was heightened as she saw that her ready answer had pleased Wolff. He came back after the major had taken his leave, and kissed her. "Thank you, Nora," he said. "It is good of you to go." "Why good of me? I want to go." "Then I am grateful to you for wanting." Nora did not understand him, nor did she see that he was embarrassed by her question. She felt the tenderness in his voice and touch, and it awoke in her a sudden response. "Don’t overwork, dear," she said. "Couldn’t you come with us?" "I can’t, little woman. When the Emperor calls——" He finished his sentence with a mock-heroic gesture, and hurried towards the door. The major had coughed discreetly outside in the narrow hall, and in an instant duty had resumed its predominating influence in his life. Nora took an involuntary step after him and laid her hand upon his arm. She wanted to hold him back and tell him—she hardly knew what; perhaps the one simple fact that she loved him in spite of everything, perhaps that she was sorry her love was so frail, so wavering; perhaps even, if they had been alone, she would have thrown down the whole burden of her heart and conscience with the appeal, "Forgive me! Help me!" It was one of those fleeting moments when, in the very midst of discord, of embittered strife, a sudden tenderness, shortlived but full of possibilities, breaks through the walls of antagonism. Something in Wolff’s voice or look had touched Nora. She remembered the first days of their marriage, and with hasty, groping fingers sought to link past with present. "Wolff!" she said.