“Yes, yes,” I said, feeling every second was precious and shouldn’t be wasted; but he opened my violin-case and put a lot of banknotes into it.

“And have you courage enough?” he asked, taking my face in his hands and looking into my eyes.

Oh the blessedness, the blessedness of being near him, of hearing and seeing him.  What couldn’t I and wouldn’t I be and do for Bernd?

I told him I had courage enough, for I had him, and I wouldn’t fail in it, nor in patience.

“We shall want both, my Chris,” he said, his face against mine, “oh, my Chris—!”

And then the Colonel walked in.

“Herr Leutnant?” he said, in a raucous voice, as though he were ordering troops about.

At the sound of it Bernd instantly became rigid and stood at attention,—­the perfect automaton, except that I was hanging on his arm.

“Zur Befehl, Herr Oberst,” he said.

“Take that woman’s hand off your arm, Herr Leutnant,” said the Colonel sharply.

Bernd gently put my hand off, and I put it back again.

“We are going to be married,” I said to the Colonel, “and perhaps I may not see Bernd for a long while after tonight.”

“No German officer marries an alien enemy,” snapped out the Colonel.  “Remove the woman’s hand, Herr Leutnant.”

Again Bernd gently took my hand, but I held on.  “This is good-bye, then?” I said, looking up at him and clinging to him.

He was facing the Colonel, rigid, his profile to me; but he did at that turn his head and look at me.  “Remember—­” he breathed.

“I forbid all talking, Herr Leutnant,” snapped the Colonel.

“Never mind him,” I whispered.  “What does he matter?  Remember what, my Bernd, my own beloved?”

“Remember courage—­patience—­” he murmured quickly, under his breath.

“Silence!” shouted the Colonel.  “Take that woman’s hand off your arm, Herr Leutnant. Kreutzhimmeldonnerwetter nochmal.  Instantly.”

Bernd took my hand, and raising it to his face kissed it slowly and looked at me.  I shall not forget that look.

The Colonel, who was very red and more like an infuriated machine than a human being, stepped on one side and pointed to the door.  “Precede me,” he said.  “On the instant.  March.”

And Bernd went out as if on parade.

When shall we see each other again?  Only a fortnight, one fortnight and two days, have we been lovers.  But such things can’t be measured by time.  They are of eternity.  They are for always.  If he is killed, and the rest of my years are empty, we still will have had the whole of life.