A MARRIAGE
	
	Edward Loomis
	
	  I'LL TAKE YOU and your family across the river, ma'am," Willy said, "but it'll cost you."
  t evening a crowd of women and children rallied uncertainly at the east bank of the little river, the Mulde, because it was an international boundary. A mournful whispering moved in the crowd; they were watching the sentry march his post on the pontoon bridge.
  I'll be glad to help, ma'am," Willy said. Heavy and powerful, he was leaning forward, talking to a German girl who was carrying a baby on her hip. "When we're on the other side, then you come with me," Willy went on. "Mit mir, verstehen? That's the way we'll work it."
  he girl shook her head; I saw that she was pretty. Behind her was the family that depended on her, two older women and two small girls, watching timidly.
  No," she said, quite distinctly. "That would be infamous." Then she turned her head and looked back to the east. Her throat was exposed in a supple line, and the effort of holding the baby caused her breasts to rise buoyantly; her expression was hard. To the east, in the fading light, was the high smoke of advancing war. It smudged the eastern heaven above the Russian soldiery as, in other centuries, above the wild horsemen of the steppes in their leather jackets. The girl looked at that ominous haze, and then pointed with her free hand at the two little girls. "And Inge?" she said. "And Johanna? My two little girls? Would you leave them here for the Russians to eat?"
  I'll be glad to help," Willy said. "But the order says no Germans can cross this bridge here, and so I'd be breaking the law if I let you across. Ma'am, I'll break that law for you, but I won't break it for nothing. Listen, all I want is a little loving. What's that to a pretty girl like you?"
  It is wartime," the German girl said coldly, "but I owe something to the memory of my dear husband. I cannot listen to you. What you say is--terrible! " She turned back to her family, and the two little girls hugged her legs.
  Don't go away mad," Willy said mildly. "You just think it over awhile, now."
 he girl was saying something to the two women, who looked as if they might be a mother and a grandmother; then, briefly, she stared over her shoulder at Willy. Something bitter and cold flickered out at Willy then, and I fancied I saw the girl's nostrils widen.
  illy smiled, and then came over to me and got out a cigar. "She'll come around," he said. "She's got to. There ain't no way to swim those old ladies and kids over this river. She'd swim it, though, you bet." He clipped the end of the cigar with his pocket knife, and then lit the cigar with one of the three lighters he always carried. "There, now," he said. "I want to let my evening meal set a little."
  illy was our Texan, twenty-two years old at that time. He was well made and strong, and if he had gone to college he would very likely have played football--at Baylor, say, or Texas A. and M. He had a blunt-featured, Western sort of face, with ruddy cheekbones, and pale blue eyes looking mildly out at the world he meant to plunder. He came from Dallas, but he was a country boy in his origins; he had followed a plow, he had picked cotton, he had gone out on many a cold morning to fetch the cows for milking.
  e was married; he had taken a wife when he was seventeen, and got two sons and a daughter on her; and, so he told us, got caught cheating just after the birth of the daughter. He came to be, as he put it, "unhappily married"; no doubt he had seen the phrase in a newspaper. "I love my wife," he used to say, "but I'm unhappily married. She is such a goddamned bitch." She had even dared, after his departure for the army, to take up with other men, and then written Willy about her exploits. He sometimes read her letters to me. Willy, naturally enough, occupied himself in that last spring of the war with revenge on his wife. Any woman would do for that, and so he had known all kinds, young and old. He came to be an expert on the German women.
  That one belongs to the quality," he said now. "I can tell it. She's got some breeding to her, got some hot blood. But she'll come round--she's a widow, you heard that."
   did not go to the bridge the next night, for I was reluctant to see the girl's surrender, which did indeed seem inevitable. As Willy said, "It's not as if she was alone. She's a Christian. She's got to think of others!" She did not appear at the bridge, however, and the following morning Willy became a little uneasy.
  e talked to me; that was his way. When he was in action he kept silence, but when he could not act he became gloomy, and often he came to me, for he respected my education-my three semesters at a small Ohio college. I had words, and Willy found them soothing; and of course we had some things to remember between us. During the fighting we had been good comrades; Willy had been a fine soldier, and had even saved my life on one occasion, as, perhaps, I had saved his on another. So we believed, anyhow, and respected each other.
  illy talked anxiously about the German girl, whose name was Elfrida, he had learned. He thought he understood her, but she was not answering to his expectations; he had missed her for a day, and a day is a long time. He claimed that she did not really dislike him. "In fact, she likes me pretty well. I can tell. A woman likes you or she doesn't, and this one likes me. She hates being in a corner, though. She can't stand that. God damn her, she could have found a boat, or a raft."
  t seemed possible that the girl might have managed something, and so I went down to the bridge that evening, hoping not to see her; but she was there, carrying her baby, dressed in the normal fashion of refugee women, in a heavy kneelength coat, with a dark brown skirt showing beneath it. She came to meet us with a smile on her face, and clearly she had a policy. She was ready for us; and Willy began smiling kindly, so that he should appear to triumph gracefully. I stepped aside, and she smiled at me--a minute, independent smile, as if it did not really count. Then she composed herself before Willy, and said: "I am ready to bargain with you, but not for myself. Do you understand? I have money. We have decided to sacrifice it. My mother and grandmother agree that it is better we should be poor than that I should yield to you .., to your . . . advances!"
   marveled at her, for she spoke with only a slight accent, and that not German. She sounded English, in fact, and so she intimidated me a little. Willy, too, was somewhat startled. "Money?" he said. "Where would you get money?"
  We are not a poor family," the girl answered firmly. "Ah, so, but where would I have learned to speak English in a family of bankrupts? You must not be naive! "
  Well, your money's no good anyway," Willy answered sullenly. "Your marks are kaput."
  Excuse me. I am not offering marks. I am offering American dollars--here, you may see them." And she held out a leather wallet thickly engraved, which Willy took because, clearly, it was the only thing to do. For a moment his big fingers moved awkwardly on the wallet, and then they came to themselves and bent the wallet in such a way as to open the folding. For a moment Willy stared. "It looks all right," he said. "How much is there?"
  Two hundred and fifty dollars, and quite genuine. Feel free to inspect it, if you wish."
  I don't have to inspect it," Willy said.
  Insist upon your rights! I am not a cheat. I do not wish to be thought such a one."
  It's not that," Willy said, and his voice was aggrieved. "Here, take your purse--your wallet." He pushed it toward her, and she quite coolly accepted it. "Put your money away," Willy said roughly. "Put it away! What's money alongside of love? And love is what I'm after."
  Don't be a fool," the girl said.
  And don't get the wrong idea about me," Willy said. "You think I'd take money from a woman? Listen. I made my offer, and you can take it or leave it."
  It's outrageous," the girl said. "You're not an officer-how dare you refuse my good American money!" For the first time since I had known her, the girl sounded as if tears might be possible for her. "Oh," she said. "You're not- unmoglich. . . ." She turned, and ran toward her family. When she reached them, she seemed to gather them up and draw them along with her, and in a moment she had moved them out of sight in the crowd of pilgrims at the riverbank.
  fter that, we did not see her for two days; and then she turned up on our side of the bridge, in the custody of two MP's from regimental headquarters. The MP's, looking unhappy, delivered Elfrida and her family to the east side of the river, where Elfrida promptly led the way into the willows; and then the MP's came back to our side, where we got the story from the older one, a staff sergeant. "Oh, you know her--that girl with the baby? Listen, take some advice, and don't get to know her too well. I'll tell you-"
  But what did she do?" Willy asked.
  Well, not much," the sergeant said. He paused; he was a man in his thirties, with a mustache, and must have seen something of life. "She just happened to be crossing the river with her family in one of our engineers' boats when the colonel was out for his constitutional. You know how he is--he goes for a walk every morning at five o'clock. Well, he asked her where she got that boat--it's painted O.D. and has all sorts of serial numbers on it. She said it was an estate boat-belonged to a friend. Well, what about that?
  So the colonel took it up with her, of course, figuring she's bribed somebody. When she began to get a little uncomfortable, she tried to bribe him. She had American money, two hundred and fifty dollars of it--confiscated now, naturally. What could he do? Now, if she'd offered that nice body, the colonel might have ...
  But let that go. The fact is, as we were coming out here, I offered to see what I could do, just in a personal sort of way. I may have put my arm on her shoulder, in fact, and she damn near cut my throat with her fingernails. ..."
  illy and I were left with a sense of having been involved in something larger than we had expected, and even Willy began to be a little impressed. "She's lost her money, anyway," he said. "That'll make her come around . . . a little sooner. . . ." But he did not sound convinced, and I began to feel sure that the girl would in fact never come around. I respected her, and was already half in love with her; and naturally I wanted to believe well of a woman I loved. The thought came to me that perhaps I might do a favor for such a woman and her family. I had only to speak to the sentry. Later I might have to fight Willy, for he had made the first claim on the property which Elfrida was, but I was willing to do that. I might even, so I imagined, enjoy doing that.
   had an intention, but unfortunately I did not execute it in time. Elfrida, grown desperate, came down to the bridge that very night and accepted Willy's offer, to be accomplished on the next night. I was there on the next night; I had come to a decision, and was ready to enter the lists, but I was just in time to see Willy have his triumph.
  s you know, a pontoon bridge floats on the water; it is low there, and buoyant; in the gathering dark our bridge looked like a boat closely moored. Coruscations of current rippled downstream from it; breezes moved in the willows along the bank, and occasionally there was a harsh stirring in the high old elms that grew along the east bank. I sat down with my back to the trunk of one of those elms, and wondered how it would feel to make a generous offer to a beautiful girl like Elfrida. I thought it would feel fine. Elfrida, pleased, might then reward me with love, and that would be right: virtue deserved such an answer.
  efore me were the pilgrims, restless. Russian patrols were on our side of the Elbe; some had been sighted not five miles from this spot; and the main body would close to the Mulde in two days, so it was rumored. A desperate time for the German women! The crowd of them looked like a Dore illustration of a scene from the Purgatorio. They wore long coats that looked like sculptured robes in the evening light; they seemed to be leaning to the west, while on the bridge the sentry, a boy in a helmet, quietly marched his post, step--stop, the restless feet! To be sure, I was a little sad; and then Willy and Elfrida appeared out of the crowd.
  lfrida was carrying her baby, and my only thought was that I did not yet know whether the baby was a boy or girl. Behind Elfrida came the mother and the grandmoter, and each of these carried a suitcase and led along a little girl. The crowd fell away, and the family moved alone with its benefactor.
  t was clear that Willy knew what he was about. His uniform was clean, he was wearing a necktie, and he had borrowed somebody's pistol and belt for the occasion, so that he could have both hands free, no doubt. He was wearing his combat infantryman's badge; his helmet was tipped back jauntily.
  e paused at the bridge, but only to wave the family on ahead of him. He patted the little girls on the head, and they ducked away, skittishly, in normal child's fashion. Willy came on, forcing the family ahead of him. The sentry, who was a good friend of ours from the third platoon, marched his post on the other track and did not even look at what was happening.
  y this time I had gotten to my feet and made my way to the middle of the bridge, and there I stayed for the remainder of the scene. I was feeling sad, hopeless, a little deranged, but I was alert, you may be sure.
  lfrida held the baby in the crook of her right arm, much as the pioneer Kentuckian held his Pennsylvania rifle. She had her weight on both feet--her feet were apart, like a boxer's. Willy spoke to her, and paused; Elfrida did not move; and then Willy gently put his hands on the baby and took the baby from her arms. Those arms for a moment followed the baby, the fingers opening and closing. Willy whispered something to the invisible face of the baby, of which a faint crooning was audible to me, and then gave the baby to the grandmother. "Thank you, ma'am," he said. "You're real obliging."
  hen briskly he took Elfrida's arm and started walking her toward the deep grass that grew along the riverbank to the south of town.
He was moving successfully; and then Elfrida pulled away and said sharply: "No! I won't go! "
  he stood apart from him, angry, ready to fight. Her head was swaying, and her arms moved cat-like; her right hand formed a claw, suddenly, and with it she reached out, hooking. Willy did not move, and Elfrida's nails raked his face. She screamed, lightly. Still he did not move.
  All right," he said. "That's in the bargain too, just this once. What do you think it got you?"
  he stood quite close to him, with her hands on her hips. Her head was back; her chin out; her bosom was heaving--ah, she composed! She knew she was creating an effect!
  You are a beast, to hold a lady to such a bargain," she said.
  No, I ain't," Willy said. "But a bargain's a bargain."
  A beast. A wicked, sinful-- Illiterate, too!"
  Say what you like. You can't hurt me. Honey, can't you see I'm just full of love for you?"
  Oh!" She shuddered, and stepped away.
  illy shook his head, his cheek showing marks now, curving lines; and then looked down; but his big body was poised, I noticed, ready to go. "Well, I love you, honey. Don't make a fuss, now."
  It's impossible," she said. "You are too crude. Now, please, if you will excuse me-"
  hen Willy caught her left arm; he seemed to reach across an enormous space; her upper body moved jerkily, like a puppet's staggering walk. "Come on," he said, and started off down the riverbank, where were willows, high grass, the dark that would make them sweat. She was with him, all her protests vain; her head went down, but I noticed that she managed once, quickly, to look at Willy, look him up and down, as not every girl would be able to do in a situation like that. She appraised him, I think, and even nodded, as their figures grew dim and became one large figure instead of two small ones--a giant huddle, merging with the night.
I remembered the bottle of brandy I was carrying--I had thought to comfort Elfrida with it. Now I got it out and drank. I was feeling like a rejected lover; I was astonished at Willy's brilliant action, and the brandy did not make me brave. I sank into myself, wanting time to pass, but time would scarcely move. I felt abandoned, like something dropped by a careless proprietor--a feeling of youth, surely--but of course in a little while I got used to it and began to look around me.
  n the foreground was Elfrida's family. I watched them for a while, that little cluster of souls, and then went over to them. The grandmother seemed almost asleep; her eyes were closed; she held the baby, and with it was quiet as statuary in a garden. One of the little girls leaned against her; this child was perhaps five years old, plump and dark, with brown eyes that looked vaguely toward me and then quickly away. The mother stared brightly at me through spectacles and fluttered her eyelids. Clearly, she was frightened, but she was trying not to look so, for fright might seem an insult to the American, who was a lord of life and death there at the bank of the international river. The mother's face was blurred--she looked like anyone's mother. Her hand rhythmically gripped and relaxed on the hand of the smaller girl, and this child was drunk with sleepiness. In a little while she would have to be put down to rest on the damp ground, among the cold grasses and flowers.
  he women had no significant expression to use on this occasion of their family's dishonor. Weary and bored, they were waiting for the next thing to happen. Indeed, the older women of any nation are likely to know what it is to wait outside the bedchambers of the young. It was nothing to these women that their daughter's bedchamber would be a hollow space under a willow tree.
  oon these veteran ladies would be able to resume their journey, and if dishonor went with them, they would surely not die of it. Very likely dishonor would prove merely excess baggage on such a journey. At that very moment they might be thinking how fortunate they were to have a handsome daughter who could please the fierce young men at the bridge. The Russians--ah, the Russians were very close, the drunken peasants bent on rape and plunder. ...
I wandered off, thinking not to return until everything was over, and I got drunk, but when I came back much later, I discovered Elfrida's family in the place where I had left them. A blanket had been produced from somewhere, and the two little girls were asleep on it, under a tree. They lay on their backs, and the toes of their shoes protruded upward.
  he sentry was quietly marching his post, and on the other side of the river the pilgrims were settling down for the night. A murmur of voices crossed the river from their rude beds, but there was no activity; even their fear had grown inert. Looming over them was a sourceless glow in the eastern sky--a pale red that would not have been out of place in a sunrise. I looked at my watch, a large Swiss pocket watch, loot from a prisoner. It was twelve thirty. The Russians were burning villages and haystacks, probably on our side of the Elbe; the peasant boys were capering jubilantly in the firelight, just as I would caper there if I belonged to that army.
I sat down in shadows by the bridge abutment, where I could be dark. I had a drink--it tasted strong, like the air, on that night of the blossoming Saxon plain. I thought it odd that the brandy should taste good to me after so much of it, but that was the way of things in that season. I was at that stage of drunkenness where vision is penetrating--the eye can burn its way in. Or so I felt. I was ready to watch Willy and Elfrida, and quite naturally I was hoping for discord. I was angry at myself, and discord could be my medicine; and discord there was.
  hey came back suddenly, the lovers. They appeared on the road from town, and I surmised that Willy had taken Elfrida to a house there. He could have ordered the Germans out; that was a thing we did not mind doing. I grimaced; Willy could enjoy her more immoderately in a house, in a bed. . . . They were not together any more, however, that was plain. Elfrida manifested a distance between them; she was haughty, in the starlight. With great dignity she walked toward her family, while Willy, tired perhaps, came slouching along behind her in his country way.
  hen she was beside her mother and grandmother, who were clumsily getting to their feet, she turned to face Willy, and said: "Have the decency to keep your distance from my mother."
  illy stopped obediently. "Whatever you say, honey," he answered.
  lfrida spoke furiously to her family; she took up the baby
and restored it to the crook of her arm. The mother and grandmother bent to the children and started waking them. Restlessly the children held to sleep, burying their faces against the summons.
  Peasant!" Elfrida said then, with her head down. "What do you know about love?" She took a menacing step toward Willy, as if she might again scratch him, and said: "Love is--beyond your comprehension!"
  Yes'm," Willy said. "But I'll show you yet."
  Ah! But I hate you! And I will make you pay! Your filthy bargain . . . I'll make you pay!" she screamed, and then bent down to one of the children, speaking rapid German, torrents of command, exhortation, rage. The family rose around her and suddenly took her in; and, as they began moving, it seemed clear that she was safely away from Willy, who was still standing at rest, slouching. He had a cigar going, and its glow faintly lighted up his blunt features, returning them to my comprehension. He was just Willy, after all, my old friend, an honest soldier. I concluded that I ought to rise and go to him, and so I did, and offered him a drink from my bottle, which he was willing to take.
  e was glad to see me, but of course his thoughts were with Elfrida. "I found 'em a place for the night," he said. "I showed her where it is, and I reckon they'll go there. It's right nice."
  After all that?" I said. "After what she said? She's on her way to Cologne right now!"
  That talk?" he said mildly. "That don't matter much-that's just something women do. That's the way they are."
  But she hates you, Willy! "
  She don't hate me. Listen, she's a passionate woman. I didn't rape her. Old Willy Fletcher ain't never raped a woman yet." He looked at her, dimly, through the reddish light of the cigar, and said: "Come to think of it, she loves me. She scratched me again, but she scratched my back, and you know what that means."
  here was nothing for me to say. In a moment Willy turned away from the river, and said: "I'm tired. Let's go home." And then we went away. I finished my bottle while I lay on my back in bed, in the big country house where our company was quartered, and the next morning I woke with a headache which I was able to welcome.
   felt I had it coming; I desired punishment, and in due course it came. After breakfast Willy went off to Elfrida, "to see about my woman," as he put it. We had scarcely any duties, and we were free to go where we liked during the day, so long as we did not run away. I chose to stay in the big house, gloomily hoping that Willy would have a disaster; but when he did not return by noon, I went into the town looking for him.
  he town was very small, and it had not been fought over; it was intact, and full of people hiding. The doors of the houses were always kept shut against wandering soldiers, even during the day, and the only signs of life were the children who occasionally got outside of the houses to make a racket in the street. I feared I had an impossible task, for if the family was holding itself within doors, I could never find it. I felt defeated, in a preliminary way, and so I was striding along rather angrily; and then I came across Elfrida's two daughters, in a minute front yard, playing in a sandbox. They looked up at me, expectantly and fearfully, like puppies. I slowed my walk. Their eyes followed me, the heads perplexedly turning. The girls had brown eyes perfectly dispassionate; their expressions were such that I knew they had stopped having a good time because I had come near them.
   was uncomfortable, and then it occurred to me that I had never before seen a sandbox in Europe--I was looking at an oddity. The sand was damp; the box was a simple affair, nailed together, and had a familiar, American look to it.
   Wo ist dein Mut-" I began a question, and then paused.
From somewhere behind the house carne a sound of hammering, rhythmical and slow.
  t was not a sound I was used to hearing in Europe. I was vaguely alarmed. The children were watching me, their mouths open--not afraid, but ready for something unpleasant. I hurried away, along the side of the house, and heard their whispering behind me. I reached the corner of the house and turned it, and there was Willy, on a ladder, hammering at a plank which he was holding across a window. He looked down: he had nails between his teeth. He bobbed his head in greeting, and then took the nails out of his mouth.
  I'm patching up this old window," he said.
  I see you are," I answered.
  The glass is busted out, and I couldn't find any shutters to fit-" He nodded, and said: "Just a minute now." He drove two more nails, and stepped down. The window had a look I was familiar with--the look of abandoned houses whose windows have been boarded up against tramps and wandering boys. Houses on the outskirts of town, they have shade from rich antique trees.
  I'll bet you made the sandbox too," I said, and Willy began to look uncomfortable.
  Oh, that," he said, shrugging. "That wasn't nothing. The supply sergeant loaned me the tools and nails." He lifted his hammer: it looked new.
  hen the back door opened, and Elfrida came out, looking as women do who have just washed their hair. Her face was tanned--golden in the faintly dusty sunshine--and as I saw her clearly for the first time, I perceived that she had a fine, high-bred look, as, let us say, we would like Austrian countesses to look. She was wearing a cotton dress, light gray.
  Beautiful," I murmured.
  illy, at my side, was restless, uneasy, and may have been wondering if he had gone too far in giving comfort to the enemy. Elfrida paused on the steps, frowning, and seemed to nod at me. Then she swept past Willy and went up to the window. She spread her legs a little and stamped her feet into the dust. With hands on hips, she inclined her head back and stared at the blank place where the window had been.
  or perhaps twenty seconds she stood so, and then she stepped rather delicately, fastidiously, past us, back to the door and through it, closing the door quite softly. The baby was asleep, very likely; a household had begun to function.
  illy was looking sheepish, not at all the conqueror now. He hefted the hammer, and I noticed that he had a good way with it. "A feller wants to make himself handy if he can," he said.
  ilently I nodded.
  She needs me," he went on. "A woman needs a man. Well, damn it, I told you she didn't hate me!"
  or quite a while we stood there, Willy reluctant and ashamed, and I trying to get a sense of things. I was once again astonished; I could not keep up with developments, and so I decided to go back to my bottle. I got drunk that afternoon, and stayed moderately drunk for several days. I wanted away from Willy, and I managed it. I did not even see him for three days. When I came to myself again, I was shaky, and startled by things. The Russians had arrived at the river, a whole regiment, so the rumor went, and their presence manifested itself as minor changes in our view. Across the river there was a trench, perhaps a hundred yards back from the bank; I could see the parapet, a light tan slashing the green of the fields. There were anti-tank guns with black slender barrels trained on us, one every two or three hundred yards. Now and then a soldier appeared momentarily on the parapet--a clumsy figure, lifting a pick or shovel. Sometimes a head appeared in silhouette over the parapet, and several times I saw horsemen cantering along behind the trench; and perhaps these were Cossack scouts.
  he Russians kept out of sight most of the time, and maintained two sentries at the bridge. These were always friendly boys carrying submachine guns; it was impossible to talk to them. They smiled, they made extravagant gestures, their pidgin German was not like ours.
  he pilgrims had vanished, like small animals gone to ground. On our side of the river there were family caravans constantly setting off for the west, and we had a rumor that the international boundary would soon be moving westward also. Our life had changed during my drunkenness; we had new oddities, and Willy and Elfrida composed a remarkable one, for they had become fond lovers. I first saw that fondness one night when Willy enlisted my help to move some U.S. Army canned goods to the lady's house; which is to say, I helped him steal these things from our company kitchen. We waited until the cooks had gone to bed, and then invaded the kitchen of the big house. We hauled our plunder to Elfrida in a wheelbarrow which Willy had borrowed somewhere, and all this was a lark, naturally.
  e had to become quite solemn, however, when we entered the room where Elfrida was waiting. There were two oil lamps on a table, and Elfrida was standing in their light. On the table was the baby, naked, like a Cupid in oils of the cinquecento. He lay on a white cloth, and beside him was a basin with water in it, from which a light mist was ascending.
  lfrida looked at us, observed the nature of our burdens, and said: "I am about to give the baby a bath. His name is Heinrich, and he likes his bath very much." She smiled shyly, and touched the tiny boy. She was sweating, her temples glistened.
  he bath was a ceremony, auspiciously begun and managed. Elfrida gently lifted the little body and immersed it in the water; she held the head above the surface with her left hand, while with her right she accomplished the ritual ablutions. The boy's body had a golden sheen after the water touched it; the arms had currents of white down, and the face held an expression of bliss. The lips were slightly parted--they were not smiling. The eyes were open, but were not seeing; the baby's world was, as it were, printed upon them, and was no more than the touch of warm water, of the mother's cautious hands, of the gentle air.
  He has good color," Elfrida said. "I have always given him baths in the sun--how do you say, sunbaths?"
  That's a fine-looking boy," Willy said. His face was calm, discreet, and it came to me that he could well judge of baby boys. He was a man; he had fathered sons in faraway Texas.
  lfrida raised her head and smiled at Willy. "It's nice that you should like him," she said. "Schozzer Heinrich!" She bent quickly and touched the baby's forehead with her lips; and then, straightening up, she took the boy from the water, and set about drying him and diapering him for bed. Her hands moved comfortably with such work, and Willy and I stood about helplessly. We made a joke about our theft. We laughed; and we understood that for a time we did not greatly matter to the scene we found ourselves in.
  hen the baby was put away in the next room, Elfrida turned her attention to us, and it was something heavy, something resolute that came to us. First she went up to Willy and said: "Thank you very much for bringing us food." Her voice caressed the sentiment, making an endearment. Willy blushed. "You're nice," she said, " sehr nett," and reached up to touch him lightly with her fingertips where not so long ago she had clawed viciously.
She then turned to me and said: "Thank you for helping us, dear friend. We will not forget you!"
  t was up to me then to depart, and I did this, but I felt foolish to leave such a woman, though she belonged to another.
  illy had her to himself, but it was not apparent that his enjoyments were unclouded. He had taken on responsibilities which required energetic tending. It was no small matter to feed such a family, and he had to look forward to the problem of moving the family to the west, for by this time we had heard that our division was to be moved away from the international boundary. And Elfrida herself was difficult. She was capable of scratching seriously in her passion--"She hurts," Willy said. "My back is raw from her fingernails!" --and she did not always keep her appointments. She was elusive; Willy found her mysterious. Still, they did well together. Willy was strong with youth, and Elfrida bloomed, as brides are supposed to do. She developed a marvelous color, a brilliant self-confidence. Willy improved her wardrobe, by judicious trading in the village; some of the refugees had brought pretty things with them. Willy offered coffee, cigarettes, and canned goods, which he stole as he needed them. He found Elfrida several dresses, two pairs of silk stockings, and a pair of shoes, and he ordered other things from the States.
  uch attentions had their effect. Elfrida ceased to look like a refugee. She began to look like a well-maintained wife, and she began to assert a kind of wifely authority with Willy. There came a time when she was able to request him to take her and her family to Halle. We had a rumor that the division was going there, and she expressed a desire to anticipate such a transfer. Willy of course wanted her to go, and so he came to me with his plan for borrowing one of the company's trucks.
  I really like that woman pretty well," he said, "and I want to take care of her. But I need some help. How about it? Would you go along?" I could scarcely refuse, for to do so would be to deny the old friendship of the war; and, besides, I wanted to help Elfrida.
  gain we had a lark. The first thing was to plan a route to Halle that would avoid battalion and regimental headquarters areas, where traffic checks might be expected. This we did by scouting the country, in a jeep temporarily stolen from our own battalion headquarters company. We found a route, and marked it on our maps; then we returned home feeling excited and cheerful. The next thing was to find a place for Elfrida's family in Halle, and this proved more difficult. Willy took over this task, and needed two days for it. He wandered heroically; he came back each day dusty and tired. One day he traveled by jeep, borrowed this time from regimental headquarters, and the next day by motorcycle; he had found a German army motorcycle cached in a shed, and, so he claimed it, it ran perfectly. He made an interesting figure as he departed: the big man lightly crouching, absolutely bent on traveling fierce and fast, the machine's rear wheel sending up spurts of dust behind him. When he came back, he had a bump on his head and some bruises, one great violet affair on his left arm; he had fallen off the machine in a corner; but he was happy, for he had found a house in Halle for Elfrida and her family.
  e was full of enthusiasm, as if he were considering the problems of his own true family. He spoke of the house as if he had just conversed with an enthusiastic broker. "There ain't a window lacks glass, there's furniture, and there's even carpets. By God, there's a garden out back that has roses!" He let me doctor his wounds, which were several large scuffed areas on his back, where the hide had been polished raw by gravel in the roadway, but he would not stop talking about his house, and about the joy which he expected Elfrida to take in it. "By God, it's even a pretty big house, and in a nice neighborhood," he said. "You'll see when we get there. It's a place for the quality--I had hell running that other family out!"
Then he asked me if Elfrida would be pleased by such a house, and I said she would be pleased. I was daubing at his back with tincture of merthiolate, and he was touchy about it. I had a good view of him. He was hurting, his bruises were dark, and he would admit to a headache, no doubt the result of a minor concussion, but he would not consider these matters seriously. Beside his great concern, they did not seem real.
  Willy," I said, and touched him with my pink daub of cotton, "everything happens to you!"
  hen he left me to go to Elfrida, he had a dim and hopeful smile on his face, for he wanted his news to give pleasure.
  he next night was chosen for the family's migration. Will,y and I made an arrangement with one of the company truck drivers, an old friend of combat days, and that night at ten o'clock I drove our truck to the rendezvous agreed upon; this was a road junction perhaps half a mile from town. At ten thirty Willy arrived with the family, trooping in out of the dark, the family cautious and scared. We helped them up into the truck and hurried away. While I drove, Willy kept an anxious eye out. We expected difficulties, for we were not used to having our own way, but nothing happened. Our route unreeled itself, coming up out of the dark--road signs briefly black and white under Willy's flashlight, crossroads pale and still. We made the trip without headlights in a little more than three hours, and found a garden smelling of roses at the end of it, and a high, narrow brick house. Inside, behind blackout screens, Willy lighted oil lamps and shyly gave over the house to Elfrida.
  Here it is, honey," he said. "It's yours."
  he family were astonished. We were in a room that could only be a parlor: the furniture was heavy, there was an Oriental rug, there were framed photographs on the walls, gentlemen and ladies in black. The little girls did not move at all, and the older women inspected the room in fierce, darting stares, blinking their eyelids. Elfrida nodded her head just once, and said: "Splendid!"
Then she came to me and took my right hand in hers. "Thank you again, dear friend," she said, looking me in the eye. "You have done a wonderful thing for us."
  You're--welcome," I stammered. I had not expected thanks, since the trip had been uneventful. I had hoped for a difficulty, so that I could do something bold or gallant while Elfrida looked on, but now I perceived that I would not have had greater thanks from Elfrida for driving our truck through a road block.
  he kissed my hand. I blushed, and could not speak. She turned to Willy, slowly walked to him, and embraced him. Lightly she kissed him on both cheeks; she tilted her head back and said: "You are so good to me . . . sweetheart."
  illy mumbled, and she stepped back. "A husband could not treat me more nicely," she said, and Willy hung his head. On the way back to our village Willy kept saying: "I can't get over it. I expected her to be glad . . . but she called me sweetheart! What do you think of that, now!"
  e was impressed, and clearly he was thinking of Elfrida in a new way; but he could not do anything for a few days because we were occupied with moving away from the international river. The whole army was moving back to allow the Russians into the part of central Germany allotted them in the grand settlement. Throughout that time Willy was very anxious, much more distinctly exercised than I had ever expected him to be. He seemed uncommonly meditative. For several miles during our ride in trucks to Halle he even carried his chin on his hand. He kept his brows knitted, and the smooth, hard lines of his face looked contorted with the lines raying up between his eyebrows. His face was not meant to look so; he appeared to be in pain, but at the same time he seemed joyful. I concluded that he was in love, and did not worry about him.
  ur company was set down in a block of houses in a working-class quarter of the city, and very quickly we arranged our comforts. The regimental commander took over a local brewery and arranged to distribute its product. Each of our houses had a keg of beer in the back yard, and a soldier whose duty was to sprinkle the keg with a garden hose. Volleyball nets were strung up in a nearby field, and softball teams were organized. Willy quickly found his way to Elfrida, and I did not see much of him for almost a week; and then one evening, just before he was due to set out on his nightly journey, he told me that he was going to get married.
  But you are married," I said. "In Dallas. You've got kids! "
  I know. I'm just getting married in church, here. Elfrida-"
  In church?"
  In a Catholic church, the kind the Mexicans have down home. Elfrida's Catholic. There won't be any papers at a courthouse, or anything like that."
  But you're not Catholic! What makes you think you can-"
  I'll just fake it, that's all. Elfrida's already taught me how to cross myself. And I'll have something for the priest-that'll help."
  Elfrida's already found a priest, then."
  You bet. The whole thing is her idea, but I don't mind. She figures I'll take better care of her if I'm married to her-that's what she says, anyhow."
   thought of bigamy, and wanted to mention it, but could not find the words I needed; and Willy anticipated me.
  I know what you're thinking," he said, "but it ain't so. I'll go back to my family in Dallas, even to that bitch--I'll straighten her out when I get home. But I'm going to be married here, in Germany, at least for a while. Elfrida wants me to, and that's enough for me."
  You'll have to have a secret wedding," I said.
  Secret, you bet! I don't want nobody to hear of it. And I want you to be my best man. Listen, Elfrida wants flowers, so you and I are going to have to promote some for her. Now, I figured . . ." His plans were comprehensive; he attacked the problem of getting married with characteristic energy. He arranged for a wedding feast; that meant a compact with the mess sergeant. He introduced the mess sergeant to a pretty girl. He contracted for the church; it was a humble church in a nondescript edge-of-town parish. He organized the conspiracy-to have an illegal wedding in broad daylight, under the eyes of the army. The stern army order against fraternization had to be got around. He talked to the priest, several times. He obtained corsages, cut flowers, and bouquets. He got champagne. He stole it from the stocks of confiscated German stores which were kept for our officers in the company orderly room.
  e had activity like a disease, and sported in it; and he accomplished everything he set out to do. He got himself married to Elfrida, in a Catholic church, in great privacy. The family was present, looking scared and dressed-up; the little girls were carrying bouquets of roses, and that was Willy's idea. Elfrida was very solemn in a blue dress, and did not look her best. Only Willy was splendid, in uniform and ribbons. He had shined his combat infantryman's badge with silver polish, and wangled some paratrooper boots.
   was there, unhappy, thinking that Elfrida was now absolutely cut off from me. I felt myself held in by the atmosphere of the church. Above my head I sensed a high religious dimness, coercing me. The priest's Latin was very suave, muttered like a dangerous secret; the priest himself seemed not quite to belong to what he was doing, for he had a questioning, faintly bitter face with sharp features. He had large brown eyes which now and then peeped boldly out of the ritual. Several times he glanced at Willy, and it was plain that he did not make very much of Willy.
  t the end of the ceremony Willy kissed Elfrida very chastely. He touched her shoulders lightly, bent toward her, and just brushed her lips with his. I was offended, for Willy seemed to be giving in to his surroundings. Elfrida, as she turned away from the altar, had a look of radiant triumph, which for a moment she bent on me. She seemed to say: "Observe, I have done something with this clay." She made me look down, for I had no expression that would answer her. As they were leaving the church, Willy made the sign of the cross, and Elfrida nodded approvingly.
   had reason to be vexed, and so I stung them with a handful of rice. They were surprised, and Elfrida for a moment looked shrewdly at me. Willy said: "Heah, heah!" and grinned.
  hen we made separate journeys to Elfrida's house for the wedding feast, and I got drunk on Willy's champagne. I wandered off while Willy was proposing toasts to his new family--the grandmother was already tipsy--and resolved to pay no further attention to Willy and Elfrida. I wanted to look the other way, and for perhaps a week I did that. I was captain of the company volleyball team, and that week we won the regimental championship. A new rumor grew strong, and I paid attention to it: we were to go to Japan, in the second assault wave, after a furlough in the States, and that furlough was a pleasant thing to think about. We heard that we would leave Germany in June, in July, in August.
   kept my attention away from Willy, but not my thoughts, and so I was ready for him when I once again looked his way. I found him happy. He had become a husband, our only one. He had become domestic. I went one evening to his house, and he met me at the door, carrying the baby. He called me in and had me sit down; he got me a cigar and a glass of brandy. Then he took a chair, and perched the baby on his knee. The baby was facing him, and together they composed an image of the familial relation. Willy clucked at the baby while the baby rolled his head.
  Ain't he a fine boy?" Willy said. "Elfrida lets me take care of him now and then."
  e talked for perhaps half an hour. Willy changed the baby's diapers, and soothed him once when he cried. Elfrida did not appear, and since there was curfew for Germans at seven o'clock, I assumed she was in the house; but I did not ask. Willy was happy. There were voices from other rooms and upstairs; the household was moving around its center, and he was content.
  hrough June and July Willy came to have a reputation in the company for domesticity, and this was a reputation more difficult for him to sustain than his old one. He was a provider, and wanted to be a good one, but there was no legitimate work for him to do. He had to steal or promote what his family needed, and so he intrigued with certain mess sergeants and supply sergeants in the regiment. Willy could sometimes arrange a German girl for a sergeant; and sometimes, through Elfrida, he came across goods which he could barter. At one time, for example, he had French perfume, left over from the days of German conquest, with which he traded quite successfully.
  e had to keep moving; he had people to see; and, increasingly as the summer wore on, he had military duties to put up with. The army was returning to normal after the confusions of victory. Training schedules appeared; formations were enforced; the officers began to withdraw into their privileges. Willy had to conduct his illegal business in the early-morning hours and after retreat; he took to rising at four thirty, and he was often out until midnight.
  e found time to enjoy his family, however. He took supper with them, and this was a great pleasure to him. He sported with the baby; his custom was to take the baby as soon as he arrived, so that, where once the baby had seemed an extension of Elfrida, he now seemed an extension of Willy. I had the habit of going with Willy two or three times a week for supper, and I was impressed with the joy he could take in family life.
  e had a talent for it. He accepted his family, and they accepted him, so that, on the whole, his marriage was a stable and quiet affair. The mother and grandmother respected him. He was a figure of authority to them, and he was imposing enough, certainly, as he took his ease--his big body relaxed in a heavy chair, a cigar going, his feet propped on a stool. The little girls liked to climb on him, and their mother watched approvingly.
  lfrida took great pains with Willy. She looked to his comforts. Twice a week she did his laundry and ironing; every night she cooked for him and served him, and would not sit down until he was drinking his coffee. Her devotion was almost Oriental, and she delighted in it. Together in that parlor they made a very touching composition--wedded bliss perpetually rising to its best opportunities. Willy had the baby, and Elfrida to put on his slippers for him. She had bought them herself--leather ones--and her way was to kneel before him. She kept her face attentive, and sometimes when she rose she kissed him lightly on the forehead.
So the marriage held as the summer wore on. Willy was happy--he used to tell me so, several times a day--and Elfrida was always smiling; but late in July there happened an event which made a change. In fact, Elfrida seduced me, as it were, and I had to conceive a whole new set of attitudes toward her. I was surprised--astonished. Suddenly I was given just that which I had been wanting, and my feelings on receiving the gift taught me how strong the wanting had been. I had plainly grown weak with desire; I was vulnerable and available. I accepted my good fortune as a matter of course. Not for a moment did I think of resisting it, for I had been trained as a soldier to seek out good fortune, on the theory that only good fortune could save me. I was an opportunist, and had an animal keenness for sensing a chance, a way out or a way to a satisfaction.
   hung on a hair trigger constantly; but I was not alone in that. My delicacy was universal. All of us were like that, and so my society included and confirmed my personal style. I accepted Elfrida, and thought, instantly, that anyone else would do the same. Light does not move more resolutely through dark than my motives toward accomplishment. I thought vaguely about the war, and told myself that in wartime many things were possible that could never be so in a peace; and a murderer could not be more bitter than I was in seeking love.
  ith an afternoon free because of a volleyball practice that was set for four o'clock, I went to Elfrida's house, and found her restless and bored. Willy was having to be a soldier that afternoon. When Elfrida asked if I would take her for a walk, I was immediately ready to try my luck with her. We did not go far, though we talked very rapidly, and we kept to the alleys. We came to a shed that had hay in it, and Elfrida suggested that we tarry. "I would like to rest," she said. She set my heart to pounding: she was tall and fragrant; I could smell her hair, with the sun on it.
   had no care for my friend. I was aware of him; he was his lady's proprietor, but he seemed unreal. Elfrida was new to me, her normal ties undone. The curve of her hip was present to me, and her smooth round arms. She was a lady whom fortune had abused, and so she deserved sympathy; and I was full of sympathy! I longed to tell her so. I was prepared to rehearse her misfortunes at the bridge, and warmly press her hand in restitution. I was ready to talk, to make a plea, but there was no need.
   dumb resolution took me near to her, so that I could touch her shoulder. Sick with apprehension, I looked at her face. She was in a dusty light from the open door. I thought: "She has blue eyes," and then I saw that she had great violet eyes, enlarging themselves to accommodate a new feeling. She kept silence, and there was a sweetness in her pose, as of some ideal image. Her expression was meditative and remote; a little smile appeared on her lips, and I caught her.
  n old story. I was clumsy, she was graceful. I frowned with concentration, and she smiled, and we made love. Her will was to have love that afternoon, and so it happened, a clarity.
  hen it was over, and I was dusting off her golden shoulders where were clover blossoms and dry little leaves from the hay, I asked her to love me, "Because I love you, because I've loved you for a long time."
  he said: "Of course I love you. I have proved it." She turned, she put her warm arm on my neck, and kissed me. "You are a nice boy," she said. "Now I think we should go back to my house before Willy comes."
  he dressed slowly and gracefully. She balanced sinuously on one foot while she pulled a silk stocking onto the other leg; her bent knee was like a jewel. She balanced again to put on a shoe, and then flexed her thigh for me, and grinned. At each stage of the dressing she looked as if she were posing for a painter--intending to look her finest. When we left the shed, she looked back at it and nodded; and then she walked at my side quite mildly. We arrived at her house a few minutes before Willy, whom she received in her customary fashion; she kissed him, she got his slippers, she brought out the baby from his nap. Then she stepped away from him, perfectly calm, and there was only a small flaring of her nostrils to indicate that she had a secret from her trusting husband.
   of course from that moment began to suffer desire in its aspect of blank pain. I wanted Elfrida to myself, that instant, but I observed that she was indefinitely far away from me. I looked stealthily at the line of her buttocks, that not half an hour before had been under my touch, and they were as if in a painting, high up on a wall of a museum. I began calculating when my next chance might arrive, and then, of course, I feared that it might never arrive. I tried to remember everything Elfrida had said to me, for a sign that she had committed herself to me, but I could recall only terms of endearment and minute animal sounds, and these could scarcely represent a commitment.
   fiercely considered her motives, wanting to humble them to my self-interest. Toward that end, I told myself that Elfrida was a careless girl, easily deflected, but I could not accept that. I then told myself that she might love me for my good qualities, but I could not recall that I possessed good qualities. I did not make her out; her conduct was opaque to my desire. I wanted not to leave the house, and of course Willy pressed me to stay for dinner, for brandy, for conversation. I looked to Elfrida, naturally, for a sign, and when there seemed not to be one, I felt a duty to depart. In a few minutes I left, thinking of no other thing than a way to return when Willy would not be there to interrupt me.
   discovered then that it was not difficult to find Willy away. His business enterprises kept him away from home, like the traveling salesman of American tradition who must wander farther than a knight of the grail. The very next day, at the same hour in the afternoon, I found Elfrida alone, and I asked her to go walking. She refused, but she did not kill my hopes. On the way back to the company I discovered a new ferocity of desire and began to understand how Willy had been brought under control. I felt the influence of an art which I could not understand. I grew angry at Elfrida, and I decided that anger could understand her; she had embraced me only to coax out gifts, and this was a bitter thought; but I sought gifts that night among the men of the company. Many had loot, and some of it applied to my difficulty. I bought a ring and a bracelet, and two days later made Elfrida a gift of them, which she accepted gracefully.
  or these things she kissed me, and said: "You understand that I will not be able to wear them--certainly not when Willy is home. But I will get them out sometimes and admire them."
  he next day we went during the afternoon to the shed with the hay, and again the following day, and my pleasures became astonishing to me. I felt suddenly healed of obscure wounds left by the war. I walked about with confidence, thrusting my head upward, and I understood that I was happy. I began to wonder if I might not somehow ease Willy out. The thought came to me that I might have Willy's bigamous marriage annulled by some German authority and then marry Elfrida myself, quite legally.
   was ready to announce myself superior to the world, until, two days later, Elfrida told me that we would have to end our little affair, though it had become pleasing to her. I became angry--like Willy, I was ready to do violence--and I questioned her hotly. We were at her house, in the parlor, sitting in the huge chairs; she was wearing her gray dress, and she looked very competent, like the old Elfrida of the bridge, leading her little f amily through the wilderness.
  I must think of my family," she said, very moderately.
  Then why did you start an affair with me? All of a sudden--out of the blue! Now you've got a responsibility to me!"
  he smiled, and forced me to smile with her. "You are quite nice," she said. "I did not know that Americans could be so ... pleasant. And you have done great services for us. Why should I not love you?" She was very much in command of herself, and looked somehow pleased; and of course I taxed her with that.
  You look . . . happy!" I said. "Does it make you happy to see me sad?"
  No, not that," she answered quickly. "But can't you see? I am a little happy. I am happy that we had an affair. It pleases me to have an affair just now!"
  he got up and struck an attitude: one hand on a hip, the other pointing at me. She was a figure of defiance. Indeed, her bosom was heaving; she was in the grip of an emotion.
  Can't you see?" she said again. "Of course I am happy. I made him marry me, that violent man, and now I have done it--done what I wanted to do!"
  he laughed suddenly, and it was a shocking sound in that stodgy, decorous room. "Of course!" she said again, smiling ferociously and displaying two rows of small white teeth, glittering. "Am I such a woman to be trampled? Not yet! I will not forget who I am."
  hen she shuddered, and her arms fell to her sides. "I am sorry," she said. "But surely you can see ..."
   could see. She had taken her revenge on Willy, as she had promised to do; marriage her means, and I the final instrument. I thought of the sharp-featured priest; he would be sad if he knew Elf rida's accomplishment, which was surely a sin. I looked at Elfrida, fierce in wrath, and I felt cheated, as if something had been withdrawn from my experience of hersome largeness of motive that I could admire. And then, her mood changing, she came to me and took my hands and said: "But I do love you, Liebchen. It was not only that I . . ." She paused, and then went back to her chair; she sat down and composed herself.
  You understand, I love Willy too," she said. "After such a beginning . . . Perhaps you cannot believe me."
  Willy?" I said. "But he-"
  Took me like a robber. Yes. Like one of the bad old German barons."
  You shouldn't love him, then," I said. "It's not right! "
  Perhaps not. I have thought that. But I do."
   was perplexed, but I believed her; she looked beautiful and honest. My trouble was that I did not want to go away. "Then you're better than I thought," I said. "More generous, more fair--now I really can't leave you!"
  Ah, so," she said, and made a deprecating gesture. "It is difficult for me that I . . . It is ridiculous after everything that I should love Willy. I have come to know him; so, I can love him. He is a good man, of course. He has been quite good to me." She sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "It is fortunate that we are all young," she said, "with so much before us."
   then returned to my pleas, which she considered and finally smiled over. She made me a gift of that smile, and when I left her I could believe that her resolution was not final. I felt illuminated; but, naturally, I took away with me some of her concern about Willy. She feared his perception, and so I feared it too. I wanted Willy to persist in ignorance so that he would continue inviting me to his house, where I might have the good fortune to win his wife again. I began to see that Willy could have perception; he was no fool, and his mild blue eyes could get through to a fact if they once became alert.
  ut for a time the summer continued its even way for us, a mild and healing round in a gentle weather. There came the news of the Japanese surrender, and we celebrated that; and it was apparent that soon the division would be sent home, as the vast army began to break up. Every day we had new rumors, but there were no decisions, and we stayed on; and the curious situation I had got into with Elfrida and Willy took on a peculiar appearance; it began to look formal. The occasions we shared--the dinners we took together, the drinking bouts, the storytelling--had an unstable gravity, as if we were anticipating change.
   often meditated our doings. Willy had commenced the comedy with violent love enforcing itself by violence; he had been passionate and efficient simultaneously, and that was a rarity. Perhaps Willy had a gift for this; I could believe it. He came from a people who had possessed such a gift; with it they had appropriated the indefinite horizon. Something was asleep in him to set him thus free after plunder, but he was not evil; he did not even intend any harm.
  nd surely Elfrida was not evil, who had only found a woman's way of dealing with her world. Perhaps her trouble was that her world came up to her touch, and could be dealt with only by some contortion of the flesh. She had known the shudder in the loins--ah, she could do something about that! She had not been afraid, and so she had managed a revenge. She had made a cuckold of Willy; perhaps she had felt a moral duty to do that, and certainly she had made herself the heroine of an adventure.
  nfortunately, she had also worked her way through to love of Willy, and so she was in a delicate position. She was compromised, and perhaps unhappy. No longer a victim, she was vulnerable in her triumph: what might happen now? Soon we would leave Europe, we Americans who had conquered it, and there would be an end; but we would not be leaving for a while, and there was time for something to happen. We had an opportunity to follow out the scheme our acts predicted, and of course we used that opportunity. In fact, Willy, following the golden baby, Heinrich, one Sunday morning came across the bracelet and ring which I had given Elfrida.
  e presented his evidence that evening, just before dinner, while the three of us were sitting in the parlor. He leaned out unobtrusively from his chair and dropped the ring and bracelet on the carpet. There was a crystalline sound as their metals touched, platinum and gold, and then the jewels refracted light as the pieces settled into the nap of the carpet. "I reckon you know what those are," he said. "That boy in the third platoon had that bracelet just two or three weeks ago and he sold it to you. I asked him." He leaned back, his face quite mild. His eyes were directed out into the center of the room.
  Those are mine," Elfrida said then. "Where did you get them?"
"The baby found 'em," Willy said softly. "He was playing in your bag, and he turned the bag upside down. And I was taking care of the baby .., at that time."
  They were my aunt's," Elfrida said. "Her husband sent them from Paris in 1940--after the conquest. Do you suggest-"
  I say. I ain't going to suggest. Honey, you're fresh out of a husband. I ain't going to argue with you. As for you, old buddy-" and here he looked at me, detachedly-"in a minute I'm going to take you outside and whup you until you can't stand."
  ilence all around. I tensed myself against an attack, for Willy was clearly ready to fight, and I tried to think of something to say. I tried a denial. "Willy," I said, "it isn't so! It just isn't so!" He did not bother to look at me; he was staring hard at Elfrida, and his expression now was guarded, masklike.
  Honey, you going to deny it too?" he said.
  Of course, Willy," she said, "if you wish me to. Perhaps you should explain what I have done, however. I have done nothing . . . against you."
  Deny laying up with that son-of-a-bitch over there!" Willy roared, and got to his feet. "Deny that, you slut!" I got to my feet, thinking of self-defense.
  lfrida turned her head upward, and agony for a moment took her features; and when she looked down again, her expression was hard--I had not seen it like that since the night at the bridge. "Ah," she said. "Slut, is it? Still, I deny everything. That is my policy!"
  Come to think of it, you aren't out a husband," Willy said then, and he was grinning now. "Listen, I was already married back in Texas when I went to the church with you. I couldn't really marry you. My other wife is in the records at the county courthouse in Jim Clark County. ..."
  Yes, I know," Elfrida said. "As if that were a thing you needed to tell me. Please, you must understand that I have eyes. I saw your way with a diaper; I knew you were a husband when you came to me--an American husband! Skillful with a diaper! Willy, don't be this way. Why must you treat me so?" Her expression pleaded with him to be decent, to be quiet, if necessary to forgive her. Willy had his back to us, and now he muttered: "Don't try to sweet-talk me out of it."
  I will say what I want to say!" Elfrida answered. "If I have lost a husband, you have lost a son or a daughter. Yours. Your own, like those of Texas. Willy, I am carrying your child. That is true." Her voice was calm, she was not trying to make a persuasion. She announced the fact, and kept her poise.
  My child," Willy said, still with his back to us, and then whirled to face us. "Mine? Or his? Or anybody's? How would you know, that will sleep with anybody that comes along? My child. Why, you slut, you slut ..."
  Oh, then!" Elfrida said. "Then! Listen, peasant as you have always been! Understand that you wear the horns, please, if I may use our vulgar European expression. I, I set them there for you, in return for your favors to me at the bridge, you . . . And I have loved you, in spite of all your vileness. . . ." Her face was the cold, furious face she had put on at the bridge after Willy had taken his fee. She looked strange to me, oddly European, as if the scene had returned her to a familiar role; and then Willy, with his head down, said: "And I loved you. Can't you see? Why did you have to spoil it? You didn't have to! What did I do that was so bad? But I'm damned if I'll apologize to a woman. Women--what have I ever got from women but a crooked deal? Or the clap? Women-sluts. Be damned if I'll talk any more. You-" and he pointed an accusing finger at me- "get your ass outside so we can have it out, you son-of-a-bitch. Come on--or are you afraid to get out from behind your woman's skirts?"
  e turned and went out the door, and I was following him close, for I had a rage that matched his own. I did not have time to speak to Elfrida, but I had a sense of her, upright, fierce, but somehow sad, and very weary. . . . Then I was outside, in the late afternoon light, and Willy was waiting for me. We were in the garden; there were walls about us, yielding a thick shade streaked here and there with greenness. I was ready to start fighting, but Willy had yet a few things to say. "Old buddy," he began. "Ain't you a dandy! Did you think about a friend? I guess. You thought how you could steal his woman. Didn't it count for nothing, all that we done during the war? Old buddy! "
  Don't talk to me like that," I answered, feeling my rage grow. "Don't you . . . reproach me! You businessman! You thought you could bargain for love--for her love. What do they teach you down there in Texas? That everything has a price? . . . You businessman!"
  I saved your life," Willy said, "and I sure wish I hadn't. If you ain't the most miserable excuse for a friend ..."
  And I saved yours, and, by God, I never would have done it if I'd known what it was. Listen, you loan shark, I don't regret anything-"
  nd that was all the signal needed. The fight was on. Willy charged me, head down, and clearly had it in mind to butt me, but I timed an uppercut and caught him perfectly just as he reached me, and felt something go, under my knuckles. It felt like a thin board cracking. I stopped him in his tracks. He stood up; blood was gushing from his nose, flooding his lower face; and I had the sense then to go for the body while he was forgetting it. I put four or five good punches in to the belly, one of them just under the high arch of the ribs, and I made him gasp. I hurt him with those punches and, I think, saved myself from destruction, for I slowed him, and limited him. He came on, and he had a terrible strength; I could not keep him off. He could hit and he could wrestle. One of his righthand punches very nearly severed my left ear from my head, and later, while we were on the ground, I think he must have taken the torn ear in his teeth, for the whole lower half of it was hanging by a shred when the fight was over.
   just managed to hang on, to stay with him until he was exhausted, and that was a long time after the fight started. We fell apart, finally, like spent fighting chickens, and sat sprawling on the ground, staring at each other. Elfrida came out, bearing a bowl of water, with white cloths tucked under her arms, and her face was white. She looked deafened, as if she did not quite believe the story her ears had brought her. Distaste, horror showed in the line of her mouth; she was biting her lip, in that ancient gesture of dismay. Willy looked up, and then shook his head and drove her away.
  I won't let you touch me," he said, "and I'll kill you if you touch him."
  I'll be all right," I said, for I was not more badly hurt than he was. Elfrida went back to the house, and I stared at Willy. His face looked as if it had slipped on his bones--the whole central part of it has slewed around to the right. "And I'll be watching you," I went on. "If you lay a hand on her, I'll take it out of you."
  And I'll do the same for you!" he shouted, and winced with the movement of his jaw. Awkwardly he pawed at his lower face. Hurt, exhausted, he did not look at all dismayed; he seemed almost satisfied, having done what his code required him to do.
   touched my ear very lightly, for I could feel how perilously it was related to me now. It began to hurt, and it was as if a chord of nerves had been exposed to the fiery touch of the air. I was dizzy and sick, but I too felt a vague satisfaction. In Willy's look as he held himself against the ground, I saw something of a virtuous rage now satisfied, and it was true that he had been enlisted in the cause of family and home; he was feeling justified, that was clear, and I too felt justified, though for other reasons. I also felt ashamed--soiled, as if I had fallen into a pit. I now sat at the bottom of an unlucky event, staring up and wondering at the bad thing that had happened to a good friendship.
  Willy, I don't like . . . all this," I said.
  aguely he looked at me. "Nah," he said.
  e were quiet for a time, and then I said: "We'd better get back to the company. It's going to take a doctor to put your nose back on its root."
  And you'd better see somebody with a sewing kit," Willy
said. "That ear's hanging like a tail, there. I reckon it hurts, don't it?"
  It hurts," I answered. "I guess your nose doesn't feel too good, either."
  It feels like I got a hole in my face. That hurts." Slowly he turned his head, as if testing it to see whether it would hold together. "You ready to go?"
  I'm ready," I said. We got up together, and together looked at the house, which was shut up now and quite blank to our gaze. Not a sound came from it. We made our way back to the company, and it took a long time. We came under the eye of the platoon leader, and he ordered us to the battalion aid station after lecturing us angrily; and at the battalion aid station we were examined and then sent back to the division hospital, for our wounds were considered serious. We were treated like casualties of the war, and the medical people seemed almost glad to have us, for they had been without oc cupation since the peace.
  e kept silence all the way. We were three days at the division hospital, while Willy's nose was rebroken and set, and my ear was sewed back to my head, and we did not speak. Upon our return to the company, Willy perceived that I wanted to see Elfrida, and told me that he would not let me go alone. I then perceived that he too wished to see Elfrida, and so we went together, our silence once again resumed. We looked like wounded soldiers, certainly. Willy had a bandage that boxed the center of his face, like a mask, and I wore a handsome affair that fitted my head like a pirate's bandanna.
  e walked furiously, and when we reached our destination, we found an empty house. Naturally we entered at the front door, and encountered the smell of settled dust. We ransacked the house, and even searched the garden; and discovered, of the family we sought, only a wrinkled handkerchief that Willy said was the grandmother's, and Willy's leather slippers on a shelf in a closet.
He broke silence with that. "She decided we'd never come back," he said, "and so she left. The Russians are going to have this city, and she knew it, and knew we were going, too. . . ."
   could not think of anything to say. I could not understand Elfrida's departure: it seemed to me perverse. She had left an established safety for the hazards of the road, and she had left me--and left Willy, I had to grant. We did not enter into the problem of what we ought to do next; instead, we continued seeking Elfrida. Willy knew of another German Army motorcycle, and we went on that, Willy driving, and I on the pillion seat behind him. "Hang on," Willy said. I gripped his sides, and we flew. I felt like the tail on a kite, and naturally I was alarmed, but I welcomed the feeling. "Turn it on!" I said. We circled the western edge of the city, as I grew accustomed to the smell of hot metal beneath me, and then we set about searching the roads that led westward. We tried the Autobahn first, and then a lesser road; we traveled some twenty miles on each before nightfall. We did not find our lady, and so we went home sick and discouraged.
  he next day we rose early, having made arrangements with the platoon sergeant about being absent from reveille; we set off as before, I embracing Willy as he piloted the fierce little machine, and we found Elfrida not fifteen miles from the city, on a lane running between poplars. This was the second road we had tried. We could not help shouting. "There she is!" Willy said. "There she is--carrying the baby!" I said, and when we got down from the machine we were both smiling.
  e must have been a strange image to that family, we who had last appeared to them in ferocious combat. Slowly the family came to us, rallying around the motorcycle. The little girls were solemn; Elfrida looked oddly blank, puzzled, and the older women huddled themselves behind her.
  Hello," Elfrida said. She bowed her head, and she composed an image of mourning. She was sad; her face was almost sullen. "I do not understand why you have come after us," she said.
  hings were awkward then. Willy and I stopped smiling and moved apart; neither of us spoke: we looked at each other speculatively. Elfrida spoke to the children and the women, and they all walked away from us, the women touching the children, moving them. Elfrida shifted the baby boy from her right arm to her left, and said: "I cannot understand why you are together now." She looked at each of us in turn, her gaze steady. "Nothing is possible now, of course," she went on. "You will go home to America. I must go back to Koln. We are all . . . quite far apart now."
  er expression changed; now she looked resolute--resolute and tired.
  I wanted to see you!" Willy said, and stopped; for a moment he looked at me, as if `I might find him the word he needed. Elfrida gravely turned her eyes upon him, those large violet eyes, and they were not without sympathy. Faintly she nodded; her expression became a little quizzical. "So?" she seemed to say. "After so much living, no more than this to say?"
  We came together because neither of us would let the other go alone," I said.
  Ah, naturally," Elfrida said. "And will you go back together?"
Silence. Willy looked at the backs of his hands. I stared at the ground.
  I am ashamed that I made trouble between you," Elfrida said. "Between comrades." She held her head high, and clearly she was taking a punishment. "I feel guilty," she said.
  illy stirred the dust with the toe of his boot, his face looking stricken, vague.
  Don't feel that way," I said. "You shouldn't."
  We came because we wanted to see you again," Willy said suddenly. "He-" and he pointed at me-"he loves you too, I guess. God damn him." Willy was taking courage, though he was still staring at the ground. "And I . . . I do, too. I wish it all hadn't happened. We had a good thing, Elfrida! Wasn't it? You were happy with me. Why did you-"
  Ah," she said. "But perhaps I did spoil it. I had reasons! Later, of course . . ." She looked at me, just as Willy had done, for the word that might end her difficulty. "Now I feel sad. I did not want to leave our house. Sad for everything. Sad to lose everything."
  It didn't have to happen," Willy said stubbornly. "Why did it have to happen?" We stood about aimlessly, as if we truly could not understand. I felt my unhappiness expand, and perhaps the others were feeling the same way; and then I said: "It was in the cards, Willy. In the cards." Then I felt better, and I sensed a brightening all around, but there was nothing further to say, and nothing at all to do. Willy could not go to Elfrida and ask forgiveness, for he would not. His nature would not allow it; and he would have to fight his way past me to reach her. I could not renew my suit, for Willy would contest any move I made. Elfrida was, of course, immobilized in the rush of adverse wills, and still had her family to think of.
  I do not quite know my feelings," Elfrida said, after a time. You both know what I can say. We have . . . come a long way together."
  he waited politely for someone to speak; looked at each of us, and then said: "I have loved you both, truly. And I think I will survive. I think I will choose to survive." Then, carefully: "I must go to my duties." She turned away from us, and Willy lifted his right arm as if to stay her.
  Good luck," I said.
  Good luck!" Willy echoed, and lowered his arm gently.
  he went to her family, gathered them with a word, and started walking again, toward the west. I noticed that she had the gait of the pregnant woman now, and was beginning to look heavy at the belly. She tilted her torso backward as she walked, balancing herself against the compact, uncertain weight of the future. The effect was stately. She had a noble stride, as all about her the children moved, skipping and bright, and the women somberly marched behind.
  hen she was perhaps a hundred yards away she turned and waved, and then continued on. Willy's child was going with her, and some sense of that unhappy fact caused him to say: "There goes the best wife a man ever had."
  he figure began to lose its accidental qualities, and seemed only the figure of a woman, deep-bosomed and erect. "She's really just what I wanted," Willy said. "I've been in love with her all the time!"
  Well, so have I," I said. "But that's nothing."
  he family receded in distance, dwindled from the view, and then vanished in the shade of poplars.
  Anybody would love her," I said. "Anybody that knew her."

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