If he should win today, he would buy himself a new cape at the very least. He abandoned the idea of a Turkish bath because of the lateness of the hour and decided to take a carriage to the train. Two gulden more or less didn't really matter today, considering.

II

Getting off the train in Baden around noon, Willi found himself in excellent spirits. At the train station in Vienna he had had a very cordial con versation with Lieutenant Colonel Wositzky-an extremely disagreeable person when on duty-and two girls in his compartment had flirted with him so vivaciously that he was almost relieved when they didn't get out with him at his station, because he knew he would have had difficulty in carrying out his plan for the day if they had. Despite his good mood, however, he still felt inclined to reproach his former comrade Bogner, not so much because he had taken money from the cash drawer-since that, given his unlucky circumstances, was to a certain degree excusable-but more because of the stupid gambling scandal by which he had so abruptly cut off his promising career in the service three years ago. An officer, after all, ought to know just how far he could go in that sort of thing. For example, three weeks ago, when he had been dogged by bad luck, he had simply gotten up from the card table, even though Consul Schnabel had offered him access to his wallet in the most charming way. In fact, he had always known how to resist temptation, and he had always succeeded in making ends meet on his small salary and the meager allowances he had received, first from his father, and then, after his father's death as a lieutenant colonel at Emesvar, from his Uncle Robert. And when these small additions to his salary had stopped, he had known how to make do with less: he had stopped going to the cafes as frequently, cut down on new purchases, saved on cigarettes, and determined that women should no longer cost him anything at all. Indeed, just three months ago a little adventure that had begun most auspiciously had failed because Willi had literally not been able to pay for a dinner for two on a certain evening.

It was truly sad, he decided as he thought about it. Never before had he been so aware of the narrowness of his circumstances as he was today-on this beautiful spring day-as he wandered through the fragrant gardens of the country estate in which the Kessner family lived and which they probably owned, wearing a cape that was showing signs of wear, shabby trousers that had begun to shine at the knees, and a cap that sat much lower than the latest officer style demanded. Today he also realized for the first time that his hope for an invitation to dinner-or rather, the fact that such an invitation was something he needed to hope forwas shameful.

Nevertheless he was by no means displeased when his hope was fulfilled, not only because the meal was tasty and the wine excellent, but also because Fraulein Emily, who sat at his right, proved to be an exceedingly agreeable table companion with her friendly glances and her familiar touches-which, to be sure, could have been merely accidental. He was not the only guest. There was also a young lawyer whom the head of the household had brought from Vienna and who knew how to lead the conversation into light, gay, and at times ironic channels. The host was polite but somewhat cool toward Willi: in general he didn't seem altogether pleased by the Sunday visits of the lieutenant, who had taken entirely too literally the invitation to stop in sometime for tea which the ladies of the house, to whom he had been presented at a ball during last year's Carnival, had extended to him. And the still attractive lady of the house apparently didn't remember that only two weeks ago, while seated on a secluded bench in the garden, she had withdrawn herself from the lieutenant's unexpectedly bold embrace only when sounds of approaching footsteps on the adjoining gravel path became audible. The first subject of conversation at table, a suit that the lawyer was pursuing for the head of the household in a matter related to the latter's factory, was conducted in terms sometimes barely comprehensible to the lieutenant. But fortunately the conversation then turned to the subject of country life and summer travel, giving Willi the opportunity to jump in. Two years ago he had participated in the imperial maneuvers in the Dolomites, and now he was able to tell of camping under the open sky, of the two dark-haired daughters of a Kastelruth innkeeper who had been called the Two Medusas because of their unapproachability, and of a certain field marshal who, almost before Willi's very eyes, had fallen into disgrace as a result of a bungled cavalry attack. And, as always after his third or fourth glass of wine, he became less and less awkward, more gay. almost witty. He could feel that he was gradually winning the host's favor, that the lawyer's tone was gradually becoming less and less ironic, and that a certain memory was beginning to surface in the lady of the house. The energetic push from Emily's knee no longer took the trouble to appear accidental.

For coffee, a somewhat corpulent, elderly lady appeared with her two daughters. Willi was introduced to them as "our dancer from the Industry Ball." It soon developed that the three ladies had also been in South Tirol two years ago; and wasn't it the lieutenant whom they had seen galloping past their hotel in Seis on a stallion one beautiful summer day? Willi was reluctant to deny this, though he knew very well that he, an obscure lieutenant of the 98th Infantry, could never have been seen charging through any village, in Tirol or anywhere else, on a proud stallion.

The two young ladies were attractively clad in white. Fraulein Kessner, in light pink, was in the middle as all three ran mischievously over the lawn.

"Just like the three Graces, aren't they?" observed the lawyer. Again it sounded like irony, and the lieutenant was tempted to challenge him: just how do you mean that, Herr Doctor? Yet it was all the easier to suppress this remark as Miss Emily, out on the lawn, had just turned around and was beckoning him to join her. She was blonde, slightly taller than he was, and it could be presumed that she had expectations of a rather considerable dowry. But to get to that stage-if one might even dare to dream of such a possibility-would take a long time, a very long time, and meanwhile the thousand gulden that his unlucky comrade needed had to be acquired by tomorrow morning at the latest.

So there was nothing left for him to do, in the interests of former First Lieutenant Bogner, but to make his excuses just as the party was at its best. They acted as though they wanted to keep him, and he voiced his regrets: unfortunately he had made an appointment; and, most especially, he had to visit a comrade who was taking a cure in the nearby military hospital for an old case of rheumatism. The lawyer responded to all this with his usual ironic smile.