''Thale. Second class .'' ''End carriage, sir.'' The elderly gentleman, a man well into his fifties, to whom this instruction had been directed, proffered his lady his arm and walked at a slow pace, like someone leading a convalescent, to the end of the train. Correct. ''To Thale,'' proclaimed the board hanging there. It was one of the new carriages with steps and the gentleman, attired in a particularly smart style: blue coat, brightly coloured trousers and coral cravat-pin, turned as he reached the top of the steps in order to assist his lady to board. The compartments were still empty, so that one had the liberty, but also the agony, of choice; and more than a minute went by before the slim, dark-clad lady had made up her mind and found an appealing seat.

A similar unease affected the man who accompanied her, but his constant marching up and down did not seem to be associated with the question of seating; at any rate, opening and shutting the window several times, he kept gazing down the platform as though expecting somebody. This was indeed the case, and he only became calm when a servant dressed in half-livery had handed him the tickets together with a luggage receipt and made his apology for his long absence to the ''Colonel'' (a word which he constantly repeated). ''Very well,'' said the man so persistently addressed as ''Colonel''. ''Very well. You know our address. Keep my horses in good shape: an hour every day, nothing more. But be careful on the asphalt.'' Then the ticket inspector came and, with a respectful bow to the passenger, whom he recognised instantly as an old soldier, punched the tickets.

And then the train began to move. ''Thank God, Cécile,'' said the colonel, whose sharp, almost piercing gaze was intensified by a slight defect in the left eye. ''Thank God, we''re alone.'' ''And will, I hope, remain so.'' With that the conversation ceased. It had rained the previous night and the part of the town flanking the river which the train was just passing lay in a thin morning mist, just thin enough to afford our travellers a view of the rear facades of the houses and their bedroom windows, which for the most part stood open. Remarkable things were to be seen, but most remark-able of all were the summertime cafés and places of amusement which lay here and there at the foot of the high railway arches. Between smoke-blackened side-buildings there rose a number of robinia trees, six or eight of them, around which a similar number of green-painted tables stood, with garden chairs propped against them.

A hand-cart with dog in harness stopped in front of a cellar opening, and baskets full of bottles being carried in, and then with just as many empty bottles in them being carried out again, were clearly to be seen. In one corner stood a waiter, yawning. But soon they had passed this congestion of streets, and in their stead appeared broad ornamental ponds and public squares, behind which towered the Victory Column in half-ghostly fashion. The lady pointed to it with the tip of her umbrella, shaking her head, and then lowered the curtain over the open window, though only half-way. Her companion meanwhile began to study a map marked with thick lines which showed the railway network in the immediate vicin-ity of Berlin. He did not get far with his orientation, however, and it was only when they skirted the edge of the Zoological Gardens that he seemed to get his bearings and said: ''Look, Cécile, there are the elephant houses.'' ''Ah,'' she said, in an attempted show of interest, but remained leaning back in her corner, and only sat upright when the train arrived at Potsdam. Many military men were striding up and down the platform here, among them an old general who, catching sight of Cécile, paid his respects to their compartment with particular civility, but then immediately avoided coming anywhere into its proximity again.

This did not escape her notice, nor that of the colonel. The signal was now given and the journey continued over the Havel bridges, first Potsdam Bridge, then Werder. No-one spoke and only the curtain with the woven emblem M.H.E. fluttered merrily in the wind. Cécile stared at it as though seeking to divine the meaning of these signs, but the only result was an increase in the expression of lassitude in her features. ''You should make yourself comfortable,'' said the colonel.

''Stretch out instead of sitting upright in the corner.'' And when she nodded her agreement he attended to her needs with travel-rugs and wraps. ''Thank you, Pierre. Thank you. And now the pillow.'' She drew the travel-rug up higher and closed her eyes, while the colonel began to read a travel guide, making little marks in the margin. But from time to time he looked over the top of the book and studied the woman who was only seemingly asleep with an expression of attentiveness and sympathy which would most certainly have made an appealing figure of him had not a streak of acerbity, defiance and stubbornness been associated with it, diminishing the pleasing effect. If appearances did not deceive, there was a ''history'' behind it all, and the beautiful woman (as the difference in their ages also indicated) had been the prize of all manner of conflicts and sacrifices.

After an interval she opened her eyes once more and looked out at the scenery, which was constantly changing: cornfields and orchards and then again broad expanses of heath. Not a word was spoken and it almost seemed that this apathetic daydreaming appealed to her most of all, as she started on her convalescence. ''You are not saying anything, Cécile.'' ''No.'' ''But I may speak, may I not?'' ''Certainly. Speak away. I am listening.'' ''Did you see Saldern?'' ''He greeted me with particular civility.

'' ''Yes, very particular. And then he avoided you and me. How little independence of spirit these gentlemen have.'' ''I am afraid you are right. But let''s not talk about it: why torment and distress ourselves? Tell me something nice, something about good luck and happiness. Isn''t there a story called "The journey to good fortune"? Or is it all just a fairy-tale?'' ''Probably a fairy-tale.'' She nodded with a pained expression at this comment, and when he saw, not without genuine emotion, even if only of fleeting duration, that tears brimmed in her eyes, he took her hand and said: ''Don''t, Cécile. Perhaps good fortune is closer than you think, hanging on a cliff somewhere in the Harz.

I shall bring it down for you or we might pick it together. Just think, the hotel where we are going to stay is called the "Ten Pounds". Does that not have a ring of the good old days? I can already see the scales weighing you, as you grow healthier every day. Putting on weight means getting well. And then we shall drive around in the coach and count the stags which the Count of Wernigerode has in his park. He will, I hope, have no objections. And everywhere where there is an echo I shall have a salvo fired off in your honour.'' The words seemed to do her good, though they actually meant little to her, and so she said: I hope we shall be on our own a lot.

'' ''Why always alone? And you of all people. You need company.'' ''Perhaps. At least no set meals. Promise me.'' ''Of course. But I think you will soon change your mind.'' And now the conversation came to a stop again, and faster and faster they sped on, first past Brandenburg with its St Godehard Church and then past Magdeburg and its cathedral.

At Oschersleben they were joined by the Leipzig train, and at somewhat slower speed because the ascent was beginning to make itself felt, they travelled on towards Quedlinburg, behind whose abbey church the heights of the Brocken already rose up. The country they were passing through became more and more a land of gardens, and instead of expanses of corn stretching across the fields, here beds of flowers spread across the broad landscape. ''Look, Cécile,'' said the colonel, ''a carpet is laid at your feet and the Harz receives you like a princess. What more could you want?'' And she sat up and smiled. A few minutes later the train stopped in Thale, where carriages were immediately besieged by a swarm of coachmen and hotel personnel of all kinds: ''Hubertusbad! Waldkater! Ten Pounds!'' ''Ten Pounds,'' repeated the colonel, and handing the luggage voucher to a commissionaire who came dutifully hurrying up, he proffered Cécile his arm and strode in the direction of the hotel which stood next to the station.