Franz sat back again as the carriage turned in the other direction.
“Why didn’t I see you yesterday?”
“How could I?”...
“You were invited to my sister’s.”
“Oh—yes.”
“Why weren’t you there?”
“Because I can’t be with you—like that—with others around. No, I just can’t.” She shivered. “Where are we now?” she asked, after a moment.
They were passing under the railroad bridge at the entrance to the Reichsstrasse.
“On the way to the Danube,” replied Franz. “We’re driving toward the Reichs Bridge. We’ll certainly not meet any of our friends here,” he added, with a touch of mockery.
“The carriage jolts dreadfully.”
“We’re on cobblestones again.”
“But he drives so crooked.”
“Oh, you only think so.”
He had begun to notice himself that the vehicle was swaying to and fro more than was necessary, even on the rough pavement. But he said nothing, not wishing to alarm her.
“There’s a great deal I want to say to you today, Emma.”
“You had better begin then; I must be home at nine o’clock.”
“A few words may decide everything.”
“Oh, goodness, what was that!” she screamed. The wheels had caught in a car-track, and the carriage turned
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