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 passed.
The Professor had continually something to tell us, either of the points that we hurriedly passed, 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 employés 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 assured 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, noble, 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 embassy. 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 ambassador, as a legalized superintendent over him, who left him daily conscious that he no longer possessed his former sovereignty.
It was fortunate that the Professor had prepared us; for--I cannot give the name of our halting place--we suddenly came to a stop. We had to wait an entire day, and it was only a day's journey to where the Colonel lay.
Rolunt tried negotiations here and there; he had become hoarse from much talking. At last he came to us with a cheerful countenance. A shrewd, energetic man, he had succeeded in obtaining a wagon, and we travelled through the country. During the entire night we drove over torn-up roads. In the distance we saw burning villages. How many hundreds of peaceful homes were there destroyed. We turned our eyes from the sight. We went through villages riddled with shot and shell, and through others, in which here and there a light shone, and where we halted to feed the horses, we were observed with ugly, threatening glances. But the country was safe; for it was everywhere occupied by detachments of our troops.
We reached the village where the Colonel was reported to be lying. We inquired here and there, but found him not: he must be in the next village. Thither we now journeyed.
We met an artillery corps, and had to move into a field and await its passing. This took a terribly long while. They mocked us and cried at us in sport as they passed, and we were almost beside ourselves with impatience. And still we sat there protected from the drizzling rain, while our soldiers were steaming like horses.
Rolunt got out. He asked the officers of the column after the Colonel. They knew nothing of him; they had only just arrived from a long march.
At last we were permitted to proceed.
At the entrance of the next village, Bertha recognized a soldier of her husband's regiment.
"Is your Colonel living?" she asked.
"Yes, yesterday he was still alive."
"And to-day?"
"Don't know. Haven't heard anything about him."
I felt confident that he was yet living. I could not think that the strong, powerful man could be dead, and my hopefulness helped to support Bertha. We reached the house from which the white flag with the red cross was floating. I commanded my daughter to remain seated in the wagon, and to inquire of no one until I returned. She gave me her promise, but she could not keep her word, and it was indeed requiring too much of her. She saw her husband's servant, and called to him, and the lad said, "The Colonel is living, but--"
"But what?"
"He is very low."
We entered the house, and the first one we met was Annette.
"Be composed, Bertha! he lives. I came here immediately on receiving the intelligence of his being wounded, that I might do all that was possible for him," she said. She embraced her friend, and added, that we could not see him: he could not bear the shock.
The Professor begged that he, at least, might be admitted. Annette called the doctor, and he gave permission to the Professor to see the wounded man.
Annette remained with us, and said, "The bullet has not yet been found." The shot had entered the breast just above the heart, only escaping it by a hair's-breadth.
The Colonel led his regiment independently and separated from the Prussians, and it was a piece of jealousy, and the ambition to distinguish himself, that caused him to press forward so recklessly and thrust himself in danger's way. He had to march over a plain, to take a battery planted on a height, and it was there that he was struck.
When he had fallen, and saw death before him, he exclaimed, "The Romans were right; it is glorious to die for one's country. I want no other grave; let me be buried with my soldiers." Then for a long while he was unconscious.
After a little while Rolunt came to us, and said that the Colonel was unable to speak, but by his glances had shown that he recognized him.
Bertha begged for the dress of a nurse, so that she could at least venture into the sick-room. She promised not to go near her sick husband. But the doctor emphatically forbade it. There was no certainty that the wounded man would not recognize her, if only by her step or carriage. He almost feared that the sick man might suspect something from the presence of the Professor; for he opened and shut his eyes so quickly. And so we had to wait and listen, and were condemned to inactivity.
We met still another friend: Baron Arven. He had forgotten his own griefs, was restlessly active and appeared wondrously rejuvenated. In an hour he had to go to another hospital, and transferred to us his quarters, in which we could rest.
Bertha said she could not sleep; but consented to lie down and rest herself, in order to gather strength for what might be in store for her. She lay down and was soon fast asleep. She often moved convulsively, as if troubled with fearful dreams, but still continued to slumber. I at last also fell asleep. Towards morning, I was awakened by a loud voice:
"I must see him; I have found him."
Is not that the voice of Rothfuss? Yes, it was.
Bertha also awoke, and asked, "Where are we? Has the train stopped?" I explained to her where we were. With difficulty, she collected herself. She went directly with us to the house where the Colonel lay, and remained with Annette. She heard that the Colonel had also slept, and Annette, who had sat with him, remarked, he had lightly whispered, "Bertha;" he must suspect that she is here.
Rothfuss took me aside and said, "We have him and her also."
"Yes, the Colonel and Bertha."
"No, no! Ernst and Martella. 'The Lord God is the best child's nurse for wild lads,' my mother has often said."
I felt as if reason had forsaken me.