[Footnote A: The necessary speed in conveying military despatches is indicated by crosses. Thus, one cross signifies walking and trotting alternately; two crosses, a quick trot; and three crosses, as fast as the strength of the horse will permit.] He held the lieutenant's hand in his, and pressed it warmly. His depression seemed to have partly passed away. "But you must not break your neck," he concluded, smiling slightly. "And now let us hope for a happy meeting!" In passing Reimers glanced at the Güntzes' villa. It was all in darkness, save for the window of his friend's study on the ground floor, whence a light was still gleaming. Within, Güntz sat at his writing-table, with several sheets of paper lying before him. For more than an hour he had been staring at the white sheets and reflecting. Shortly after ten Kläre had fed her baby; and then, the sleeping child tenderly clasped in her arms, she had gone up-stairs. Her husband had watched her through the half-open door, and the nursery-lullaby with which she hummed the child to sleep sounded in his ears for long after. Now he sat there, not knowing whether he would ever again see his wife's honest, sensible eyes, or the droll, wondering gaze of his child. A hard battle was going on within him, and once or twice he raised his hand as if to push a heavy weight from his brow. The cuckoo-clock in the corner by the stove cuckooed twelve times, and then from without sounded the deep, full tone of the parish-church clock. The new day had begun. With a strong effort Güntz raised himself, bent over the white leaves, and with swift-moving pen filled page after page. He had decided to send in his resignation. The request should go up to the regiment before the duel, and now he was explaining to Reimers the reasons which had decided him to take this sudden step. To Reimers alone. But if he wished he might show the letter to the colonel. The opinion of any one else was immaterial to him. At the outset he begged his friend not to think that he had withdrawn from the duel out of cowardice. He could point to his whole previous life in support of this--the life of a quiet, resolute man, always consistent with his principles. And, after all, Reimers knew and trusted him.