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Their love would
have told them something was wrong.
Ernestine came in just then and he called her to him.
"Liebchen," he said, "I've been thinking about that evening of your
birthday, about how beautiful it was. Weren't you happy, dear, as we sat
there before the fire?"
"So happy, Karl," she murmured, warmly glad to have her own Karl again.
"Everything seemed so beautiful; everything seemed so perfectly right."
He drew her to him with a passion she did not understand. His Ernestine!
His wife! She who communed with love, whose harmony with the great soul
of things was perfect--they could not have deceived her like that!
Ernestine and love dwelt too closely together. She would have received
some sign.
For a time that calmed and sustained him; he believed in it; it was his
weapon to use against the doubts and terrors which preyed upon him. But
the gloom of his soul seemed to thicken with the deepening of the night.
His heart grew cold with the coming of the shadows. The passing of day
inspired in him fears not to be reasoned away.


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