But she continued gaily and cheerfully: "Besides, in any case, I should have ended by being your mistress." "Oh, no!" said Trautvetter. "Under certain circumstances I prefer a wife." Despite the warmth of the August sun, Julie Heppner grew worse day by day; but this was nothing to her in comparison with the burden of mental suffering which almost overwhelmed her. She watched her husband and sister with a gaze that never faltered. She saw with horror how Ida became less shy of her and abandoned herself more and more to her passion. Nor was this hidden from her husband. He noticed with cynical satisfaction how the young girl's power of resistance diminished. The desired fruit must soon fall into his hands almost of itself. Soon, under cover of the playful teasing which went on between the sergeant-major and his sister-in-law, even in the presence of the invalid wife, he began to indulge in passionate, lustful touches and covert embraces which brought the blood to the girl's face and made her shiver. She resented Julie's reproaches with the hard, insensitive egoism of one in love. What! Did this wretched moribund creature still think to claim the man whom she, the fresh, young girl, loved, and who loved her in return? Julie laughed bitterly to herself. Would it not be best to resign herself to it, to close her eyes, and to await the deliverance of Death? Oh, no! She could not endure this shameless insult which they both, as it were, hurled in her face. She racked her brain as to how she could revenge herself on them; but in vain. Most terrible of all was it to feel that though still alive she was virtually dead already, as powerless and helpless as a corpse! Then the worst happened. The sergeant-major and his sister-in-law were invited to a _fête_ which the military society, "The Fellow-Soldiers of 1870-1," were arranging in memory of the battle of St. Privat. The programme included music, theatricals, and dancing. Towards evening a fanfare of trumpets summoned the guests to the festival-play. Even in the garden under the lime-trees the heat of the summer sun had been great, and in the confined space of the overcrowded hall it became unbearably intense. The rows of chairs were placed much too close together, in order to accommodate the large audience. Once seated, it was impossible to move; one remained wedged in between one's neighbours. Shortly before the curtain was raised, Heppner and Ida discovered two empty chairs. The sergeant-major sat down first. The narrow space then left on the neighbouring chair was far too small for the girl's fully-developed hips.