Great excitement was caused in the village when it was reported that Carl had returned. We all accompanied his mother and Marie down the valley, where he had halted with a squad of prisoners. Marie embraced him before us all, and the prisoners smiled, and imitated the sound of their smacking lips.

Carl had much to tell me, and could not find words to say all he wanted to, particularly in praise of the Pomeranian lancers. He said they were the right sort of fellows--as quiet and strong as the pine-trees; and it was strange to see, when they first saw the Rhine, about which so much had been sung and said, how, in their enthusiasm, they wanted to ride directly into the stream.

His mother and sweetheart accompanied him for some distance on the road, and when they turned to come back the old woman said, "Now I am satisfied; now no one shall hear me complain; I am sure that nothing will happen to him in this war."

We harvested our crops; we placed the green bough on the top of the new mill down in the valley; we began to cut wood in the forest; yet still the thunder of the bombardment of Strasburg continued.

The old meadow farmer lay at home very ill, and often said, "I shall be buried like a soldier; they will fire over my grave."

We buried the old fellow on the morning of September 2d. He had given orders that his St. Helena medal should be buried with him; but his son did not see fit to let this be done. He looked upon this so-called mark of distinction as a means of preservation, in case the French should come after all.

While we were standing at the open grave, Joseph came riding up the hill, his horse very much blown, and cried, "Napoleon is a prisoner!"

We all hurried to the road where Joseph, still on horseback, read the extra aloud. It was the account of the capture of Napoleon at Sedan.

What strange coincidences occur in life! We had just buried the last man in our village who wore on his breast the badge of the infamy of our alliance with Napoleon; and now we had his successor and heir a prisoner in our hands.

As if by a preconcerted signal, the young people of the village struck up, "Die Wacht am Rhein."

Without awaiting the parson's permission--very likely he wouldn't have given it--the church-bells were rung, and the German flag was thrown to the breeze from the top of the church spire. We returned home as if in a dream.

When my niece, the Alsacienne, heard the news, she shook her head, and refused to be convinced of its truth.

She had been always accustomed to hear the lying despatches of her countrymen.

After the Sedan campaign, we all thought that the war was ended; but the French people, in their overweening confidence, still insisted on retaining the first place among nations, and resented the idea of their giving up the German provinces, of which in former days they had robbed us.

The war went on without ceasing.

CHAPTER VII.

We cannot be astonished anew every day at the phenomena of existence: how the sun rises, how the plants grow and bloom. We must accustom ourselves to the homely changes that are being wrought; to life and death among us, to love and hate, to union and discord.

We ended by becoming accustomed to the fact that the war was raging, and as surely as the sun rose we expected news of another victory; for that we should ever be beaten seemed, to judge from what had happened, impossible.

The daily question was, "Has Strasburg surrendered yet?"

On the morning of the 29th of September, I attended the weekly market to sell my grain. It was the crop of 1870.

Everything went on as usual; there was the same chaffering, bargaining, and cheating, and occasionally the war was discussed.

Suddenly I heard a noise of shouting and rejoicing, and saw flags hung out of the windows. "Strasburg has fallen," was the cry.

People called to each other, "Strasburg has fallen at last," as if some one who had been long lost had returned at last.

Joseph brought the Alsacienne to town. We made up a store of food and clothing for her, and accompanied by Christiane, who had been despatched to the afflicted city by the Aid Society, she returned to Alsace. Every one went over to Strasburg, partly from curiosity, and partly out of pity. I refused to go.

Then came letters from Alsace for Martha and me.

I did not know the handwriting of the one for me. It turned out to be from Baron Arven. He wrote that he had had frequent conferences with those high in office on the importance of quieting the minds of the Alsatians, and of coming to an understanding with them. Unfortunately they had been forced to take sharp measures against those who were untractable and traitorous, and now they desired to take such measures as would stop any further sacrifices. There were other nurses required besides those who attended the wounded, and he believed I would suit his purpose.

The following sentence in his letter pierced my heart like a dagger: "Your family ties make it your duty to aid the lost son to return to his father's house."

How? Has Ernst been found, and is the preceding portion of the letter simply written to prepare me for the shock?

I read on, and found I was mistaken. A troubled mind interprets everything in its interest. Arven simply meant that I should aid in the work of attaching Alsace to Germany; for he informed me that men of all cla.s.ses, who were known to have friends and relatives in Alsace, had been requested to visit those sections of the country with which they were acquainted, there to work in the interest of union. Those who had been in opposition to the government were especially wanted, for the reason that their conduct would be regarded as being founded on a pure love for the Fatherland.

He asked me to visit the villages in the forest of Hagenau, with which I was acquainted through my relations, and see what I could do towards furthering the good work.

I had to laugh when he added: "Your presence and your white hair will do much, I think, to create confidence in you."

The Baron was in the confidence of the government. It seemed, therefore, to be decided that we should take back the provinces of which we had been robbed. Yes, I am ready to do what I can. It is true, I doubted my capacity; but a love of the cause and encouraging hopefulness strengthened me. Arven's letter gave me courage. He had never praised me to my face, but he displayed the best feeling in his letter.

"I am going to Alsace," said I to Martha.

"Oh, that is splendid, and you can take me along."

She showed me a letter from Julius, in which he asked her to visit him in Strasburg for a short time, until he should march off again.

He wrote: "We will meet among saddening ruins, but we shall remain erect, and while we help rebuild the great fabric of the state, shall also strengthen our own life-fabric."

We journeyed to Strasburg. Julius met us in Kehl. What a meeting between the young couple!

"I have also seen Martella," Julius said. "I wanted her to enter a hospital as nurse, but she has retained her old dislikes, and refuses to have anything to do with the sick. She was engaged with a number of other women in distributing supplies, but I don't know whether she is near here now. I have been told that she has gone to Lorraine with another detachment of the supply commission. She parted from Lerz, the baker, after a few days. The Prince's letter of pardon has pa.s.sed her everywhere, and she is now with Ikwarte and Wolfgang, who will protect her."

I shall not speak of the effect the appearance of the bombarded city produced on me. I had been in Strasburg frequently, and knew many there who could not forget the ties which bound them to Germany. Forty years ago I was here with Buchmaier, and at that time this great broad fellow planted himself before the Cathedral, and called out, "I say, tumble down, or turn German."

Now it stood there, a German monument. It had been, unfortunately, struck by our shot, but had been only slightly injured; and from far and near one could behold this edifice, every stone and ornament of which is German.

Martha could look on nothing but the face of her Julius, and on one other thing--the iron cross on his breast. She asked why he had not written about having received it; and Julius confessed that he had not done so because a promise that was not yet binding, but which required him to arrive at some conclusion, was connected with it.

He related that the commanding general, while fastening the cross on his breast, had said, "You intend remaining in the service?" to which he had not answered, but believed that he had nodded "yes," although he was not sure.

And now he wanted to learn from Martha's lips whether he had nodded or shaken his head.

Martha looked at me and said, "What do you say, grandfather?"

I said, of course, that this could be decided on when the war was over, and that meanwhile Julius could consider himself a professional soldier. I thought him too tenderhearted for a soldier, for he had said to me, "Grandfather! the worst feature about war, is not the fighting, but the foraging. It is heart-rending to force people to deliver up everything, yet it must be done."

The thought that Julius would remain a soldier was painful to me, for I had cherished the hope that, at some time or other, he would take charge of his patrimonial estate. I could not agree with Ludwig's American ideas, that all property should be personal. But what matters all that at present?

I hunted up Baron Arven. Although he had written such hearty letters to me, I found that he had again become formal and brusque. I had to learn that in war times small matters can receive but little attention.

The Baron directed a servant to accompany me to the provisional governor of the province. Although I had been sent for, I found myself treated as if I were a suitor. I had to accustom myself to the North-German manner, which regards every sacrifice you may bring as a mere matter of duty.

The governor remembered that Arven had spoken of me. He begged me to take a look, for the present, at the part of the country with which I was acquainted, and then to report to him.