“On my soul.”
Such an assurance as this did me more good than I can tell; for I clung with all my might to my hope; every hour I was expecting the arrival of a letter—of a telegram. At every noise in the next room I fancied that it was the postman, almost continually my eyes were turning towards the door with the constant picture of some one coming in with the blessed message in his hand. When I look back on those days they seem to present themselves to my memory as a whole year filled with torture. The next gleam of light for me was the news that a suspension of arms had again been agreed on; this must surely this time be the presage of peace. On the day after the receipt of this intelligence I sat up for a little while for the first time. Peace! what a sweet, what a happy thought! Perhaps too late for me. No matter. I felt myself anyhow unspeakably calmed; at any rate I had no need to fancy every day, every hour, the raging battle going on in which Frederick might at that moment be killed.
“Thank God! now you will soon be well,” said my aunt one day after helping me to seat myself on a couch which had been moved to the open window for me. “And then we can go to Grumitz.”
“As soon as I have strength for it, I am going to Alsen.”
“To Alsen? My dear child, what are you thinking about?”
“I want to find the place there where Frederick was either wounded or——” I could not finish the sentence.
“Shall I fetch little Rudolf?” said my aunt after a pause. She knew that this was the best way to chase away my troubled thoughts for a time.
“No, not yet, I want to be quite quiet and alone. It would be doing me a kindness, aunt, if even you would go into the next room. Perhaps I may sleep a little, I feel so weak!”
“Very well, my dear, I will leave you quiet. There is a bell here on the table by you. If you want anything, some one will be ready at once.”
“Has the letter-carrier been here?”