"I am not sure that I have the right to ask you to inform the colonel of what I have just told you, but I will be responsible for that. Perhaps he will speak to the officers and tell them that he knows everything and approves of my conduct. Perhaps that will have the desired result." "It must; I will ask the colonel to talk seriously to the officers, and if they will not listen to reason of their own free will they must be forced to hear it." "Thank you, sir." The adjutant turned to go and shook hands with George. It was the first time that the count had offered him his hand, the first friendliness that he had received for a long time, the first time that anyone had spoken to him warmly and heartily and sympathised with him. It did not alter things, of course, but in spite of that George felt happier and gayer than he had been for a long time, and the feeling of having acted rightly in the matter gave great satisfaction. Olga scarcely recognised him when she came in that evening; she had visited him almost daily lately, for George sat at home evening after evening and thought and meditated on what would happen. He had accepted no invitations, gone nowhere; he had lived in himself, and spent much time in writing long letters to his parents, in which he lamented his misfortunes. It was a necessity of his nature to express his feelings to the people who cared for him, but regularly as the letters were written Olga threw them into the fire. "Your parents cannot help or advise you," she had answered him on the first occasion when she destroyed his letter, and he saw that she was quite right. To-day when she came she asked if he had finished his letter, and she could hardly believe it when he said he had not written one at all. "Whatever has happened then?" He told her of the conversation he had had with the adjutant, and asked her at the end: "Do you think people ought to know how Willberg treated you?" Olga sat thinking for a long time, then she said: "I care for you very much, I would gladly give you permission to speak openly, but it would not be wise, especially on your account. What do our relations with one another matter to the world? Nobody expects a young lieutenant to be a saint, but he need not publish to the whole world the fact that he has a 'friend,' and certainly no one need know what her name is and what has happened to her. There would be people who would blame you, and why should you expose yourself to that?" He kissed her on the forehead. "You are right, as you always are." He could not tell how it was, but suddenly he wondered how Hildegarde would receive such news. He had not seen her since his return, but daily his thoughts had wandered to her, and now he saw her picture clearly before him. "George, what are you thinking about so seriously?" He roused himself from his thoughts and found Olga standing in front of him and laughing.