He glanced with deep sorrow at his dark green coat, and strode up and down the room. "This is my only hope," he went on, with grim satisfaction, "that my beloved captain will soon succumb to D.T." Reimers reflected. "You must allow that this battery's unfortunate condition is quite exceptional. Let me make a suggestion. Provoke Mohr to a quarrel! You'll be sure to be backed up. Every one knows he can't control himself when he is drunk. And you can go to Madelung, or, still better, come to us under Wegstetten." "That's an idea," observed Güntz. "But it won't do. For, in confidence, Falkenhein has let it transpire that in the autumn I shall get my captaincy; and probably--indeed certainly--I shall succeed Mohr." Reimers jumped up, delighted. "But, dear old chap, then it's all right! You'll bring the fifth out of the mud. You're just the chap to do it! And your reward will be the greater in proportion to the wretched state of affairs now. Jerusalem! What a splendid division it will be! Madelung, Güntz, Wegstetten! The best heads of batteries in the whole corps! Without any flattery, old chap!" But the other did not join in his rejoicing. "Dear old fellow," he answered, "you may think so. But I confess that it seems to me as if we had got a bit off the right track with our whole military system; as if Madelung's and Wegstetten's and my own work were bound to be labour in vain." He stopped suddenly. His usually cheerful face had grown careworn and gloomy. "How do you mean?" asked Reimers. The other sighed, and answered, "Dear boy, I cannot say more as yet; I have not fully thought it out. I will first make an attempt to settle down to the work here. I promise you, as soon as my own mind is clear, I will tell you honestly what is bothering me." Reimers suspected moisture in the eyes of his friend, as they clasped hands. Güntz went on softly: "Dear old boy, it's pretty hard when a man finds, or thinks he finds, that he has devoted his life to a fruitless, hopeless business! What is such a man to do? But it is possible that I am right in my fears--and of that I cannot bear to think." "What fears do you mean?" "I can't help myself. I am often forced to remember that we've had a bad time before." "Before when?" "Before Jena." Reimers started. The ominous word struck his pride like a lash. He drew himself up stiffly. "Why not before Sedan?" The other calmly answered: "Sedan? Jena? Perhaps you are right, perhaps I am. No one knows." After this conversation Güntz avoided such topics with his friend. If Reimers tried to draw him again on the subject, he answered evasively, "I have told you I must fight it out with myself. Until then I don't want to talk at random." But for all that he grew calmer and more equable. The biting, sarcastic tone he had adopted gradually disappeared; and it almost seemed as if the mood had been merely a survival of his Berlin experience. At Easter a small event occurred in the little garrison,