The crowd were impatient, and complained that we had not yet heard of any actual hostilities. He asked them:

"Have you never been in a saw-mill?"

"Certainly we have."

"Well, how do they manage there? They set the wheel and let the water run until the log is in the proper position; then they go ahead and saw it right through. Have a care. The Prussian, or, as we had better say, the German, waits until the log is in the proper position, and then he goes to work with seven saws at once."

Joseph understood the feelings of the people, and felt especial satisfaction that Schweitzer-Schmalz seemed quite lonely and deserted in the midst of the crowd. He simply smiled, when Schweitzer-Schmalz said, "This little fellow. Joseph is all talk, like the Prussians."

Joseph and I called on Martha, for I had promised Julius to visit his wife as soon as possible.

We found her and the rest of the family calm and resigned, although the son and the son-in-law were in the field.

For the first time since I had known him, the Privy Councillor revealed a sense of his n.o.ble birth. He dwelt on the fact that, as a member of one of the oldest families in the land, he belonged to the order of St.

John, and that he and Baron Arven would soon enter on their duties as members. He explained to me that it was an old order, but that a man like myself might also become a member. I had never thought of that before, but now it struck me forcibly.

The ladies requested me to accompany them to the courthouse, where the Sanitary Commission was to a.s.semble. On the steps, I met Remminger, the so-called "peace-lieutenant."

He seemed quite agitated, and urgently requested me to accompany him to the house of his father-in-law, where he wanted me to act as umpire. He gave me no further information, but said that I should find out all about it when we arrived there.

I found the family in great distress. The lieutenant, who had left the army on account of marrying the daughter of Blank, the rich lumber-merchant, had become quite an adept in his new calling, but had been even more devoted to the pleasures of the chase. He had just announced his intention to enter the army again; in justice to himself, he could not remain a mere looker-on in the moment of danger.

Old Blank maintained that this was a breach of promise, and I saw how the lieutenant clenched his fists when he heard that expression; but he controlled himself and calmly explained the matter, stating, at the same time, that he asked me to decide between them.

I knew all about Blank. He was one of those men of whom one can say nothing evil, and nothing good. All that he asked of the world was to be left undisturbed while attending to his business and adding to his wealth. He was a zealous reader of the newspapers, and would smoke his good cigar while enjoying them. It suited him best when there was lots of news. Others might act for the state, the district, and even for the community, so that he might read about what they had done. He could not realize that one who belonged to his family could care to exert himself for the general good. I saw this in every word that he uttered. I allowed him to speak for some time without replying.

"And what is your opinion?" I said, addressing the lieutenant's wife, who stood by the window, plucking dead leaves from the plants that were placed there.

"Shall I call in our three children, so that you can ask them?" she answered, in a harsh voice.

"Little children have no opinions as yet; but their parents ought to think for them."

I asked old Blank whether he would be satisfied with my decision.

"Since you ask in that way, you are, of course, opposed to me, and for that reason I say no."

I saw that I could be of no use, declared that I would not attempt to decide, and left the family to settle their dispute among themselves.

When I left there, I was the more pleased to meet the Councillor Reckingen, who lived in the town, and who had visited me shortly after Ernst's flight. He had conquered his feeling of loneliness and grief at the shocking death of his wife. He lived alone with his only daughter, and had devoted all his time to her education. She was just budding into womanhood.

This man, who had always seemed troubled and absentminded, now approached me with a cheerful smile, and said that he had the good fortune to be again permitted to enter on his calling; and that, as a result, his child, who had been so constantly with him that he had begun to be alarmed for her future, would now be obliged to accustom herself to a life of self-reliance and activity; for the wife of the Privy Councillor had already expressed her willingness to have his daughter stay with her during the campaign.

We were standing by the stream, where the water rushes over the dam with a mighty roar, and he said:

"You are like me; in great times all little troubles disappear, just as the thundering of these falling waters drowns all other sounds."

I pa.s.sed a delightful hour with the Councillor in his lovely garden, which was carefully and tastefully kept. He had been very fortunate in cultivating roses, and I was obliged to permit him to pluck a lovely one for me from every bush.

"She loved roses, and cared for them above all things," were his words while he handed me the nosegay.

According to promise, Ludwig returned, bringing Ikwarte with him. He had written to Conny and Wolfgang to come to town. He told us that he had caused his name, and also Wolfgang's and Ikwarte's, to be entered with the Sanitary Corps. They wore the white band with the red cross on their arms, and soon started in the direction of the Rhine to join the main army.

Conny went home with me.

CHAPTER XI.

When we reached the saw-mill, a wood-cutter was waiting for me, and told me that Rautenkron, the forester, urgently requested that I would come to him at the bone-mill which lay in the adjacent Ilgen valley.

The wood-cutter told me that one could hardly recognize Rautenkron--something horrible must have happened to him.

I found Rautenkron seated in the bone-miller's room. He said to the miller, "Put enough bones into your kiln, old Adam, so that you may keep away for an hour, and then go and leave us by ourselves."

The miller left.

"Take a seat," he said, in a tone to which I was unused in him; his features and his manner seemed changed.

After a forced laugh, he thus began: "I have bought my bones back from this man--I had sold them to him for a bottle of gentian; and it used to amuse me to think how my n.o.ble self would, at some future time, be converted into gra.s.s and flowers on the hillside, and perhaps furnish food for cattle.

"But, pardon me," he said, interrupting himself; "forgive me, I beg of you; I ought not to address you in that tone. Forget this, and listen to me with patience. I will confide my last will to you; you have often provoked me, but now I am glad that you are here. The thought of you followed me in the woods, sat by me at my bedside, and has deprived me of rest. I have always wanted to learn what your weak side was, and now I have found it out.

"My father was a worldly-wise man. He divided mankind into two cla.s.ses--charlatans and weaklings. He maintained that in all that is termed love, be it love of woman or love of the people, there is a large portion of charlatanry, which at first consciously, and afterward without our knowing it, deceives both ourselves and others. You are not a charlatan--but you are vain.

"Do not shake your head, for it is so. Of course, vanity is not a vice; but it is a weakness, for it shows dependence on others. You offered your hand to Funk, because you felt too weak to have an enemy running about in this world. Since I have made that discovery and convinced myself on that point, you no longer worry me. You too have your share in the misery that belongs to the species of vermin that terms itself man. It is out at last--now I have nothing more against you. Indeed, I cannot better prove this than by the fact of my asking you to help me.

Usually, I have not required the a.s.sistance of others, but now I need yours; and I think that is enough to make you feel that you must aid me."

I consented, but in my own mind I felt a dread of this man, who, in his bitter candor, seemed much more terrible than when taciturn.

"I request, nay I demand--" he continued--"do not interrupt me; let me speak for myself.

"Do you know who I am? For years, I have been called by a strange name.

You cannot imagine how pleasant it is to be so constantly a masker, in the mummery known as life. I shall not, at present, mention my true name, but you may rest a.s.sured it is an old and a n.o.ble one, and related to that of Johannisberg.

"My father--he was indeed my father--had become reduced, and he led a merry life, although I did not know where the means came from. At a later day, I discovered all. He purchased a captaincy for me.

'Purchased,' he said, but it had really, so to say, been presented to him. He had carried others' hides to market; perhaps a couple of human skins to be tanned. His master had many of these tanners in the state _vade mec.u.ms_ known as prisons.

"I was, as I have told you, a captain at Mayence, and my father lived near there, at Wiesbaden. He was known as Hofrath.

"I do not know whether what people call conscience ever p.r.i.c.ked him, but he was always merry and fond of good living, and enjoyed it as much as the stupidest monk might do. He would always say to me, 'Conrad, life is a comedy; he who does not take it in that light, but looks upon it in a serious manner, spoils his own game.'

"I thought I had much to tell you, but I have not. My story is simply this:

"My father had a habit of asking me about my comrades,--what they were doing, what they were thinking of, and to whom they wrote; and I faithfully told him all I knew. You may believe me! I, too, was once open-hearted. But, one day, two of my comrades were suddenly cashiered.

Letters of theirs had been found--not found, but sought--which, it was said, contained treasonable expressions. All of us at the garrison were beside ourselves with surprise, and I suspected nothing.