A presumption, which would have dared to acknowledge to the existence
of the hidden photograph, could not have been encompassed by the
being of Fraulein Hirsch. She was, in truth, secretly enslaved
by a burning, secret, heart-wringing passion which, sometimes, as
she lay on her hard bed at night, forced from her thin chest hopeless
sobs which she smothered under the bedclothes.
Figuratively, she would have licked the boots of her conquering
god, if he would have looked at her--just looked-as if she were
human. But such a thing could not have occurred to him. He did
not even think of her as she thought of herself, torturingly--as
not young, not in any degree good-looking, not geboren, not even
female. He did not think of her at all, except as one of those born
to serve in such manner as their superiors commanded. She was in
England under orders, because she was unobtrusive looking enough
to be a safe person to carry on the work she had been given to
do. She was cleverer than she looked and could accomplish certain
things without attracting any attention whatsoever.
Von Hillern had given her instructions now and then, which had
made it necessary for him to see and talk to her in various places.
The fact that she had before her the remote chance of seeing him
by some chance, gave her an object in life. It was enough to be
allowed to stand or sit for a short time near enough to have been
able to touch his sleeve, if she had had the mad audacity to do
it; to quail before his magnificent glance, to hear his voice, to
ALMOST touch his strong, white hand when she gave him papers, to
see that he deigned, sometimes, to approve of what she had done,
to assure him of her continued obedience, with servile politeness.
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