profoundly stirred, else he would never have made up his mind to ask me
unexpectedly whether I had not remarked that Falk had been casting eyes
upon his niece. "No more than myself," I answered with literal truth.
The girl was of the sort one necessarily casts eyes at in a sense. She
made no noise, but she filled most satisfactorily a good bit of space.

"But you, captain, are not the same kind of man," observed Hermann.

I was not, I am happy to say, in a position to deny this. "What about
the lady?" I could not help asking. At this he gazed for a time into
my face, earnestly, and made as if to change the subject. I heard him
beginning to mutter something unexpected, about his children growing
old enough to require schooling. He would have to leave them ashore with
their grandmother when he took up that new command he expected to get in
Germany.

This constant harping on his domestic arrangements was funny. I suppose
it must have been like the prospect of a complete alteration in his
life. An epoch. He was going, too, to part with the Diana! He had served
in her for years. He had inherited her. From an uncle, if I remember
rightly. And the future loomed big before him, occupying his thought
exclusively with all its aspects as on the eve of a venturesome
enterprise. He sat there frowning and biting his lip, and suddenly he
began to fume and fret.

I discovered to my momentary amusement that he seemed to imagine I
could, should or ought, have caused Falk in some way to pronounce
himself. Such a hope was incomprehensible, but funny. Then the contact
with all this foolishness irritated me. I said crossly that I had seen
no symptoms, but if there were any--since he, Hermann, was so sure--then