Arms and the Woman

And then, right in the midst of my dreams, a small foot planted itself.

I turned my head and saw a woman. On seeing the bright end of my

cigar, she stopped. She stood so that the light of the moon fell full

upon her face.

My cigar trembled and fell.

"Phyllis!" I cried, springing to my feet, almost dumbfounded, my heart

nigh suffocating me in its desire to leap forth. "Phyllis!--and here?

What does this mean?"

The woman looked at me with a puzzled frown, but did not answer. Then,

as I started toward her with outstretched arms, she turned and fled

into the shadows, leaving with me nothing but the echo of her laughter,

the softest, sweetest laughter! I made no effort to follow her,

because I was not quite sure that I had seen anything.

"Moonlight!" I laughed discordantly.

Phyllis in this deserted place? I saw how impossible that was. I had

been dreaming. The spirit of some wood-nymph had visited me, and for a

brief space had borrowed the features of the woman I loved. In vain I

searched the grove. The vision was nowhere to be found. I went back

to the inn somewhat shaken up.

Several old veterans were seated in the barroom, smoking bad tobacco

and drinking a final bout. Their jargon was unintelligible to me.

"Where's your barmaid?" I asked of the inn-keeper.

His faded blue eyes scanned me sharply. I read a question in them and

wondered.

"She went into the garden to get a breath of fresh air," he said. "She

does not like the smoke."

It annoyed me. I had seen some one, then. What would Phyllis, proud

Phyllis, say, I mused, when she heard that a barmaid was her prototype?

This thought had scarcely left me when the door in the rear of the bar

opened and in came the barmaid herself. No, it was not Phyllis, but

the resemblance was so startling that I caught my breath and stared at

her with a persistency which bordered on rudeness. The barmaid was

blonde, whereas Phyllis was neither blonde nor brunette, but stood

between the extremes, and there was a difference in the eyes: I could

see that even in the insufficient light.

"Good evening, fraulein," said I, with apparent composure. "And what

might your name be?"

"It is Gretchen, if it please you," with a courtesy. I had a vague

idea that this courtesy was made mockingly.

"Gretchen? I have heard the name before," said I, "and you remind me

of some one I have seen."