Page:The Prussian officer, and other stories, Lawrence, 1914.djvu/19

 the tablecloth, the officer pinned down his thumb with a pencil, asking:

“How did you come by that?”

The young man winced and drew back at attention.

“A wood axe, Herr Hauptmann,” he answered.

The officer waited for further explanation. None came. The orderly went about his duties. The elder man was sullenly angry. His servant avoided him. And the next day he had to use all his willpower to avoid seeing the scarred thumb. He wanted to get hold of it and——&emsp; A hot flame ran in his blood.

He knew his servant would soon be free, and would be glad. As yet, the soldier had held himself off from the elder man. The Captain grew madly irritable. He could not rest when the soldier was away, and when he was present, he glared at him with tormented eyes. He hated those fine, black brows over the unmeaning, dark eyes, he was infuriated by the free movement of the handsome limbs, which no military discipline could make stiff. And he became harsh and cruelly bullying, using contempt and satire. The young soldier only grew more mute and expressionless.

“What cattle were you bred by, that you can’t keep straight eyes? Look me in the eyes when I speak to you.”

And the soldier turned his dark eyes to the other’s face, but there was no sight in them: he stared with the slightest possible cast, holding back his sight, perceiving the blue of his master’s eyes, but receiving no look from them. And the elder man went