"The regiment brings _Gnädiges Fräulein_ its best wishes for her birthday," he thundered, as though a dozen luckless recruits stood before him. "The regiment wishes _Gnädiges Fräulein_ health and happiness, and hopes that she will approve of the selection which has been made." He advanced with jingling spurs and held out a sheet of paper, which Hildegarde accepted with a gentle smile of thanks. "It is a nice programme, isn’t it?" she said, as she handed the list to Nora. "All my favourites." "It was the Herr Hauptmann who told us what _Gnädiges Fräulein_ liked," the gruff soldier said, still in an attitude of rigid military correctness. "The Herr Hauptmann will be here himself before long. He commanded me to tell _Gnädiges Fräulein_." "Thank you, Huber—and thank the regiment for its good wishes. Afterwards—when the concert is over—well, you know what is waiting for you and your men in the kitchen." He bowed stiffly over her extended hand. "_Danke, Gnädiges Fräulein_." He strode back to the door, and then turned and hesitated, his weather-beaten face a shade redder. "The regiment will lose the Herr Hauptmann soon," he said abruptly. "Yes, Huber. And then what will you do?" "Go too, _Gnädiges Fräulein_. I have served my country many years, and when the Herr Hauptmann leaves the regiment I have had enough. One gets old and stiff, and the time comes when one must take off the helmet." "That is true, Huber." Still he hesitated. "And _Gnädiges Fräulein_——?" "I, Huber?" "_Gnädiges Fräulein_ will go with the Herr Hauptmann?" A deep wave of colour mounted the pale cheeks. "It is possible we may go to Berlin for a few months." "_Ja_, _ja_, for a few months!" He laughed, and his laugh was like the rumble of distant thunder. "It is well, _Gnädiges Fräulein_; it is well." Then suddenly he stiffened, growled an "_Empfehle mich gehorsamst_," and was gone. Hildegarde bowed her head over the violets and there was a long silence. Then she too laughed so naturally and gaily that Nora forgot herself and looked at her in wondering surprise. "He is such a strange old fellow," Hildegarde explained. "Wolff calls him his nurse. Once in the manoeuvres he saved Wolff’s life, and ever since then he has attached himself to the family, and looks upon us all more or less as his children. He is never disrespectful, and so we allow him his little idiosyncrasies. One of his pet ideas is that Wolff should marry me." Nora repressed a start. What strange thing was this that Hildegarde should speak so lightly, so carelessly, of the tragic loss overshadowing both their lives? "I think it would quite break his heart if we disappointed him," Hildegarde added quietly. "Is it not amusing?" "Amusing?" Nora’s hand gripped the back of the sofa. "I do not see why it should be amusing—it is natural. Of course"—she struggled to overcome the roughness in her voice—"every one sees how much your—your cousin cares for you."