They walked on slowly. Neither spoke as they mounted the ascent of the bridge; and they halted where they could hear the flow of the water below them. Heavy darkness surrounded them. The broad stream stretched itself out in gray, indefinite outlines; red lights in the distance, floating above the water, awoke answering gleams from its surface. Trembling stripes of light reached down from the shore they had just left; on the other side of the bridge the river lost itself in the blackness of open fields. Thunder rumbled in the distance; they looked over to where the red lights soared. A train with lighted windows rolled between iron arches that seemed to spring up out of the night for an instant, to sink back into darkness again. The thunder grew fainter and more distant; silence fell again; only the wind moved, in sudden gusts. Franz spoke at last, after a long silence. “We must go away.” “Of course,” Emma answered, softly. “We must go away,” he continued, with more animation. “Go away altogether, I mean--” “Oh, we can’t!” “Only because we are cowards, Emma.” “And my child?” “He will let you have the boy, I know.” “But how shall we go?” Her voice was very low. “You mean--to run away--” “Not at all. You have only to be honest with him; to tell him that you can not live with him any longer; that you belong to me.” “Franz--are you mad?” “I will spare you that trial, if you wish. I will tell him myself.” “No, Franz, you will do nothing of the kind.” He endeavored to read her face. But the darkness showed him only that her head was turned toward him. He was silent a few moments more. Then he spoke quietly: “You need not fear; I shall not do it.” They walked toward the farther shore. “Don’t you hear a noise?” she asked. “What is it?” “Something is coming from the other side,” he said. A slow rumbling came out of the darkness. A little red light gleamed out at them. They could see that it hung from the axle of a clumsy country cart, but they could not see whether the cart was laden or not, and whether there were human beings on it. Two other carts followed the first. They could just see the outlines of a man in peasant garb on the last cart, and could see that he was lighting his pipe. The carts passed them slowly. Soon there was nothing to be heard but the low rolling of the wheels as their own carriage followed them. The bridge dropped gently to the farther shore. They saw the street disappear into blackness between rows of trees. Open fields lay before them to the right and to the left; they gazed out into gloom indistinguishable. There was another long silence before Franz spoke again. “Then it is the last time--” “What?--” Emma’s tone was anxious. “The last time we are to be together. Stay with him, if you will. I bid you farewell.” “Are you serious?” “Absolutely.” “There, now you see, it is you who always spoil the few hours we have together?--not I.” “Yes, you’re right,” said Franz. “Let’s drive back to town.”