And she spoke truth. The break of day dawned on this second young bride too in the chamber of death.
Of course, in the horror of this new calamity, the departure of the others was not carried out.
In the midst of my anguish, of my raging fear, the deepest scorn again seized me for that gigantic folly which had voluntarily called forth so great a calamity. My father, when Rosa’s corpse had been carried out, had sunk on his knees, with his head against the wall.
I went to him, and took him by the arm. “Father,” I said, “this is war.” No answer. “Father, do you hear? Now or never, will you now curse war?”
He, however, collected himself.
“You remind me of it—this misfortune shall be borne with a soldier’s courage. It is not I alone, the whole country has to offer its sacrifice of blood and tears.”
“What comfort then has come to the country from the sufferings of you and your brethren? What comfort from the lost battles? What from these two girls’ lives cut short? Father! Oh do me this kindness for the love of me!—curse war! See here”—I drew him to a window, and just then a black coffin was being brought on a car into the courtyard—“See here; that is for our Lilly, and to-morrow another such for our Rosa, and the day after perhaps a third; and why, why?”
“Because God has willed it so, my child.”
“God—always God. All that, however, is folly. All savagery, all the arbitrary action of men, hiding itself under the shield of God’s will.”
“Do not blaspheme, Martha! Do not blaspheme now when God’s chastening hand is so visibly——”