Then in a lightning flash he saw what he had done. He had eaten and drunk damnation, and he deserved to be cast out for ever from the community of Christians. For in drinking the sacred blood he had drunk her kisses. XXIX Winter came suddenly in the first days of December. The world lay hidden in snow, and the ruts of the roads wound over the great white plain like black ribbons. A sky resembling a smoky ceiling hung low over the earth, and the twilight of night seemed to fall before the day had properly begun. The months from December to March are, as a rule, a period of rest and recreation for the country squire. He is now at liberty to enjoy social pleasures, take trips to the capital or travel in Italy. He may drink and gamble, or if his tastes are cultured he can order from his bookseller the latest novels and the newest sensation in current literature. But none of these things had any attraction for Leo. He didn't care to associate with the neighbouring families, for he knew that matchmaking mammas regard, him as a catch. He was sick of travelling. It would have been a herculean task to get drunk, as he required so much to bring about that happy condition, and at Monte Carlo he had played so high that his empty coffers, as a memorial of his losses, warned him against further gaming. As for reading, he had neither the taste nor the powers of concentration necessary for enjoying it. Even the consolation of sport was denied him, for the big game of the prairies had spoilt him for partridge shooting. Nothing remained but to do what turned up next, and to amuse himself according to the whim of the moment. And all the time longing devoured him. Yes, he could no more hide it from himself, he longed for her. He had not met her since the ceremony of taking the Sacrament. Afterwards he had torn away as if hunted by demons, without shaking Ulrich's hand, without heeding his people's looks of hurt surprise. He had wanted to get away as quickly as possible from the perfume that she exhaled, away from the questioning eye of his friend, away from the house of God, whose gift of grace had been transformed for him into a curse. "For whoso eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh his own damnation." So ran the text in the Bible which he had once learnt at school, and which now was brought home to him with such terrifying force. Gradually, however, he had come to a calmer state of mind. Religious brooding was so foreign to his nature that he succeeded in throwing off the consciousness of being damned eternally. And yet on that day he had lost his last hold on his old happy-go-lucky will. Henceforth he lay more or less under the ban of a dull depression, which threatened to build a barrier between him and his fellow-creatures. Ulrich had been in Berlin a month, and during that month Leo had not set foot in Uhlenfelde.