Heimert would learn from the other men who had been on duty at the barracks what Heppner had been about during the morning. He always tried to find out stealthily and without exciting comment; but his comrades knew very well what was up, and enjoyed playing on the jealousy of the young husband. At last the deputy sergeant-major hit on a curious plan. This was to bring the two together in his presence. He thought that if there really was a secret understanding between them they would betray themselves in a moment of thoughtlessness. So he invited Heppner to drop in now and then, in a neighbourly way, for a cigar and a bottle of beer. The sergeant-major accepted. Once or twice he brought Ida with him; then, as the time for her lying-in approached, he came alone. Heimert watched them closely; every word, every movement, almost every look. But his suspicions were not justified. Heppner was polite, easy, and perfectly unconstrained; while Albina chatted easily and naturally, and accepted the homage of their guest with a kind of haughty tranquillity. Towards her husband she displayed quite unusual tenderness, so long as the sergeant-major was present. Heimert was somewhat reassured by this. When Heppner rose to take leave Heimert would fling his arm confidently about Albina's waist, with a gesture which seemed to say: "You see, my wife is my own. I have her and hold her, and you won't get her, however much you may covet her. That's the right of possession. And so it will be, no matter how much you may hate and envy me. And when you have gone I shall claim my rights, and this woman must obey my will." The sergeant-major read this defiance plainly in Heimert's face, and it had the effect of causing him to swear inwardly that he would seduce his comrade's wife. In the middle of May Ida bore a child,--a fat, strong, healthy boy, weighing nine pounds. A splendid weight for a new-born baby! At first the sergeant-major rather fancied himself as a father. Every one said that the fine boy was his living image. Certainly there was no need to be ashamed of being seen with such a child. Of course this son of his should be a soldier, an artilleryman. He should learn to ride as soon as he could sit on the saddle, and woe to him if he showed any fear! Ida was happy beyond measure, and there could not have been a tenderer or more careful mother. Motherhood awoke in her much that had hitherto been unapparent in her somewhat stolid nature. Heppner thought her little occupations silly and tiresome. The first sight of his boy at the healthy young mother's breast seemed to him charming enough. But before long he was continually scolding Ida for her over-indulgence of the child, telling her he would grow up a milksop, always hanging on to his mother's skirts.