Above, on the limber, Wolf sat between Truchsess and Plettau. The nearer the wished-for day of freedom approached the more nervous Wolf became. He tried not even to think of life after his discharge, always fearing that some slip might still occur to detain him longer in his fetters. There was now only this one last day and this one last night to endure--then he would be free. He felt as if now he might dare to breathe freely. What could possibly happen amiss? There was no more duty, merely the formal giving up of his kit. Then he would take his certificate of discharge and would be able to go wherever he wished. And so it came about that Wolf was filled with joy as they passed in through the barrack gates. That very afternoon the men whose time was expired handed over their packing materials and all that could be spared of their outfit and uniform, only retaining the suit they had on. Of course, until the morning of the day of their discharge, they remained soldiers; but it was impossible to keep up the usual discipline, and the authorities gave every one, from first to last, a loose rein. After the orders of the day had been read, the half-demoralised crew dispersed themselves through the town. They stood at the doors of houses, clasping servant-maids round the waist. When a superior officer passed by they assumed the regulation attitude slowly and carelessly, and the officers and non-commissioned officers took pains not to see the incipient insubordination. Rebellious phrases passed from mouth to mouth, and many a one boasted how he would thrash this or that corporal or sergeant--when once he was in civilian dress. "When once one is in civilian dress"--that seemed to be the noisy pass-word given out for the evening. It was as though these swaggering men could no longer endure the last hardly perceptible signs of the discipline to which they had so long obediently submitted; as though this evening would end in open mutiny. Wolf took no part in these noisy demonstrations; he was perhaps the only reservist in the whole regiment who held aloof. He could not stand the noise and the drunkenness. The whole of that free afternoon he stayed in the barrack-room, dreaming away comfortably, and looking at the first-year men, who now, when the "old gang" had left, would suddenly have about twice as much to do as hitherto. If a non-commissioned officer crossed the threshold, he jumped up and stood at attention, quickly and accurately, just as he had done at any time during these last two years. Why not still continue to play the comedy for these few remaining hours, after having been an actor so long?