"Here, Bob, take it.
You can always do with a drop on a journey."
"Thanks," said I, "drink it yourselves to-night. I've got some."
"Take it," replied Lenz; "you can never have too much." He ran along beside the train and threw the bottle to me.
"Au revoir, Pat!" he called. "When we go broke here, we'll all come up and join you.
Otto as skier, me as dancing master, Bob as pianist.
Then with you we'll form a troupe and go from hotel to hotel."
The train began to go faster and Gottfried was left behind.
Pat hung out the window and waved until the station disappeared behind the curve.
Then she turned round. She was very pale and her eyes were shining wet.
I took her in my arms.
"Come," said I, "now we'll have a drink.
You've done splendidly."
"I don't feel splendid, though," she replied with an effort at a smile.
"Me neither," said I. "That's why we're going to have a drink."
I opened the bottle and gave her a little cup of cognac.
"Good?" I asked.
She nodded and leaned against my shoulder.
"Oh, darling, what is the good?"
"You mustn't cry," said I. "I've been so proud that you haven't cried all day."
"I'm not crying," she replied, shaking her head, and the tears ran down her thin face.
"Come, drink something," said I and held her tight. "It i is always the first moment, then it's all right again."
She nodded.
"Yes, Robby.
But you mustn't let it worry i you.
It will be over soon; don't look, that's the best.
Just let me sit by myself here a few minutes, then I'll soon get over it."
"But why not?
You've been so brave all day, you can cry now as much as you like."
"I wasn't brave.
You didn't notice, that was all."
"Perhaps," said I; "but that is just it."
She tried to smile.
"Why is that it, Robby?"
"Because you didn't give in." I stroked her hair. "So long as a man doesn't give in, he is still more than his fate. That's an old Army rule."
"It's not courage with me, darling," she murmured. "With me it is simply fear—miserable fear of the great last fear."
"That is all there is to courage, Pat."
She leaned against me.
"Ach, Robby, you don't know what fear is."
"I do," I replied.
The door opened.
The collector asked for the tickets.
I handed them to him.
"Is the sleeper for the lady?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Then you must go to the sleeping car," said he to Pat. "The ticket is not good for the other compartments."
"Very well."
"And the dog must go into the luggage van," he declared. "The dog box is in the luggage van."
"Good," said I. "Where is the sleeping car, then?"
"Behind, the third car.