CHAPTER XI.

We had much to do to set up trees that had been prostrated by the wind; for dead trees, because of their harboring all sorts of noxious insects, imperil the existence of a whole forest.

There came good letters from Julius, Richard, and the vicar, and we saw war life from three quite different aspects. Bertha sent us letters from the Colonel. He wrote but briefly. He must have been suffering great hardships, especially in the protracted rains; but he wrote, "when one feels inspired, he can endure much."

They tell me of the n.o.ble courage of the olden time. When man fights with man, he receives invigorating impulse from the personal struggle.

But to stand under a shower of fire, then advance on the enemy and be struck by far-carrying bullets, without firing a shot until one is at the right distance--all that is much more.

Away off, the cannon thundered; we at home heard nothing but the measured beat of the thrasher, and that lasted a long while, for we lacked men at home.

When it rained and snowed, and we sat sheltered in the room, we naturally fell to thinking of those who, for nights and weeks, fought on the now thoroughly drenched soil, and for their brief rest had no couch but the wet or icy earth.

Ludwig wrote from Hamburg that he was about going to America. He was to make the journey with the secret approval and authority of an officer of high rank, in order to prevent the transmission of arms and ammunition to our foes.

How much war demands of human nature!

Snow had fallen; it snowed again and again, and we knew that what here was snow, up there was cold rain.

I sat in the large arm-chair, and read the gazette. Here stands in few words, in peaceful paragraphs, what up there is blood and mangling of human bodies. It is indeed grand and sublime how the French, after the annihilation of their forces, again quickly gather together, and venture everything. A nation cannot surrender, and a nation that is so consciously proud and all-powerful cannot easily acknowledge, "I am conquered, and am wrong."

They would not give us security for our boundary, and so the fighting and the devastation must still go on.

While I thus sat quietly thinking, a telegram from the cabinet of the Prince was brought to me; I must forthwith hasten to the capital, and upon my arrival at the palace should cause myself to be immediately announced, be it night or day.

What could be the matter? why was I so urgently summoned? Was it on Ernst's account? or Richard's, or the Colonel's? It seemed to me a great injustice that not a word of explanation accompanied the message, yet I equipped myself immediately for my departure. The stonecutter conducted me to the railway station. Joseph was not there; he had gone on to Lorraine. I was not familiar with his business enterprises.

That--it was indeed, strange--kept my thoughts busy during the journey, and yet was I much oppressed by suspense as to the reason of my being called away. But happily the human mind can engage itself with new problems, and thus, for a while at least, forget the care and vexation that lie near at hand.

I reached the capital, and found it as I had expected. What was snow with us in the mountains, was here a penetrating rain.

On my way to the palace, I pa.s.sed a brilliantly lighted theatre, and heard from within the sounds of music. Ah, that men should sing and juggle at such a time! But is not life a mighty aggregation of many incongruous individual activities?

I reached the castle; the great entrance hall was lighted up and thoroughly warmed; I was obliged to wait a long time. When, at last, I saw the Prince, I found him unusually distressed or disturbed. He began by observing how different times were when we last had met; he said how deeply it pained him that so much blood must be shed--so much n.o.ble blood. He said this with deep emotion, and finally added, he had faith in me as a man of stout heart; I had so n.o.bly borne so much suffering, that he had courage to tell me that the Colonel had been wounded by a shot through the breast. He was still living, but quite unconscious, when the bearer of the news left, and perhaps we had already a dead one to mourn.

I could not utter a word; what was there to say?

The Prince continued to speak of his grief at the shedding of so much blood, and expressed his dissatisfaction that his countrymen should have placed themselves in alliance with foreigners.

I had no time nor mind for such discussions. I asked if the news had been sent to my daughter. He appeared disturbed by my question, and somewhat unwillingly answered, "I considered that a father's right and duty."

He added, that this evening a sanitary commission would depart, with whom I and the Colonel's wife could go to the front.

I know not what suggested the thought, but suddenly it occurred to me: The Prince would never make a minister of you; you were only a clever story-teller, who drove away the recollections of his own sufferings by the recital of your life-history. And of that was I thinking all the while I was talking to the Prince of other things.

The demeanor of the Prince towards me seemed cold and distant. He called after me without extending his hand, "Adieu, Herr Waldfried!"

Formerly, I had been called "dear Waldfried;" yes, at times, "dear friend."

I mention this here, although it first struck me like a waking dream, during the journey. I was glad to be independent, and to be relieved from rendering homage to princes, and troubling myself as to whether I was addressed in one way or another. Although in my inmost heart I believe in a const.i.tutional monarchy, I tell you, keep yourself free, and be dependent on no stranger's favor, or else you will be the most degraded of slaves.

But now I must tell of my sad journey; and I think of the saying of the Colonel's: Human nature in its elevated moods can endure much.

I came to Bertha's house. My heart beat wildly at the thought of the news I should bring to her. But as I ascended the steps, Professor Rolunt, the Colonel's friend, approached me, and said, "After the first dreadful shock, you were your daughter's first thought. She has asked for you."

"And so she knows of it?"

"Yes! I have told her, and we are off in an hour."

"We!"

"Yes! I go with her; and keep up Bertha's spirits. Should the worst have happened, we must bear it all."

I went to Bertha. Speechless, she threw herself upon my neck, clasped me to her bosom, and wept and sobbed; nor could I utter one word.

"Father!" she said, at last, "you will remain here with the children--or will you take them home with you?"

"No, I will go with you. Don't refuse me. Don't let us waste useless words. I will go with you."

We departed in the evening. We rested in beds, upon which soon should lie the sorely wounded. But, indeed, we, too, bore painful wounds in our hearts.

CHAPTER XII.

It was well that Rolunt accompanied us; for I had not the strength to support Bertha in this wearisome journey, and to distract and lead her away from her quiet, noiseless brooding, and her counting the minutes as they slowly pa.s.sed.

The Professor had continually something to tell us, either of the points that we hurriedly pa.s.sed, or of the sanitary aids who were with us. He told us of this and that one who had been a spoiled child--the pet of some fond mother--and now was suffering great hardships. This was the second supply train that he had accompanied; he had been the chief of the first one, and had much that was moving to tell us of the self-sacrificing conduct of the non-combatants. The employes of the post-office and the railroads were specially endeared to him, and he related wonderful instances of their activity and endurance.

Bertha scarcely uttered a word; for the most part she only quietly held my hand. At times, she said, "Ah! the locomotive might be urged to move faster; it seems to me that it goes much too slowly."

The Professor a.s.sured her that we should esteem ourselves lucky to reach our destination. Who knows how soon we should hear, "Halt, we go no further."

Once Bertha arose; her face had in it something mysterious and strange, and she cried out, "Father, hold me!"

"What is the matter? What is it?"

"I think I must escape from myself. I will not live if he is dead. Oh!

pardon me," she again exclaimed, sinking back into her seat, "I cannot endure the torment of my thoughts. How is it possible--how can it agree with any order in human affairs, that a piece of lead can destroy a full, rich, n.o.ble, human life!"

She gazed at me with a peculiarly alarming expression; it was as if pale, pulsating strands were tightly drawn under the surface of her skin. Then she seized my hand and said, "Pardon me for inflicting all this upon you. I dare not now waste my strength in suffering; it is sinful, it is selfish, and it is terrible to wish for death. All my strength belongs to him. I will no longer complain, and will no longer give up to despair. Oh! if I could only sleep! One can give to another the sleep of death, but--I will be very quiet; indeed, I will not think any more."

She leaned back and closed her eyes.

While Bertha appeared to sleep, I told Rolunt of the last interview with the Prince. He explained matters to me. He said the Prince had believed that I knew all, and merely feigned ignorance for his sake. It was no secret that the Prince was beside himself with rage, because the general commanding had telegraphed the news not only to him, but also to the Prussian emba.s.sy. The latter made no secret of it, and the Prince saw in this an attempt to obtain popularity and favor at his expense. He hated the amba.s.sador, as a legalized superintendent over him, who left him daily conscious that he no longer possessed his former sovereignty.