“_Gnädige Frau_,” he said, and the level, passionless voice gave no hint to those ignorant of the language of the purport of the German words which followed, “when you wake from this sleep you will entirely forget the hideous dream through which you have passed. You will never remember it, waking or asleep. You will think of your husband as you have always thought of him--faithful and loving. You will completely resume your normal life. You will not even be aware that you have slept. It will seem to you as if you had only just sat down in this chair. But when you wake you will present me with the clock upon the mantelpiece. You will feel an overmastering impulse to do this, and you will obey it.--Now,” he wiped the tears from her face and blew sharply upon her closed eyelids, “_wake!_” The two officers watched her, fascinated. Would she shriek? What terrible paroxysm would be the expression of a heart-broken despair? Or had he----? They held their breath. Her eyelids flickered for a moment, and then, with one deep sigh, her eyes opened. She smiled round on them. “_Meine Herren?_” she said in her voice of timid enquiry. Then, fixing her eyes on the doctor, “You sent for me?” The doctor looked at her gravely. “The Commandant desired me to assure you, _gnädige Frau_, that you need be under no apprehensions during our stay here. We consider ourselves the guests of a charming lady and we hope to leave only a pleasant memory behind us.” His companions marvelled at the strength of will which could enforce so complete a normality of voice and feature. The German woman smiled up at him, a pathetic little smile. “You are very kind, Herr Doctor--please convey my thanks to the Commandant.” She made a little movement which drew attention to her black dress. “My--my husband in heaven, if he can see you, will--will bless you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Please excuse me!” she said with a pretty little gesture of apology, “his memory is all I have--I cannot help bringing him into every act of my life.” “Love need not cease with death, _gnädige Frau_,” replied the doctor. “One hopes that those we loved still watch over us--though we cannot see them.” She smiled again. “He had no thought but of me, Herr Doctor, and I have none but of him.--I see you understand,” she finished in a tone of involuntary sympathy. “You also have loved?” “_Ja, gnädige Frau_,” he replied with a grave and enigmatic smile. “I also.” Her eyes went past him to the mantelpiece, rested with a curiously fixed expression on the clock. Suddenly, as though moved by an uncontrollable impulse, she jumped up, took the clock from the mantelpiece and thrust it into the doctor’s hands. “Please accept this!” she said appealingly. The doctor fixed his grave eyes upon her. “Why?” he asked. She stammered, evidently at a loss for her reason.