"The Russian ambassador informed me that during the Crimean war the rumor was spread—no one knew its origin, and yet it was in all mouths—that every one who had fought at Sebastopol, or who had volunteered for the war to deliver the Emperor from the Allies, should have land given him as a free present at its conclusion. This was a fixed notion in all brains, and where did it come from? The idea of the emancipation of the serfs, which had been mooted for a long time in books and journals and among the higher classes of the community, now took deep hold of the imagination, and assumed a definite form in the consciousness of the people, becoming a fact plain as day, that required only the imperial decree to set its seal upon it."
Clodwig stopped, as if wearied, but he summoned up his strength afresh and cried:
"This is the old grand saying: 'the swords shall be turned into ploughshares.'"
The entire company looked at each other with surprise, not understanding why and how Clodwig had fallen into such a strain; Eric alone gazed at Clodwig with a beaming countenance. As a hand was placed upon his shoulder, he looked round, startled. Roland, standing behind him, said,—
"That is exactly what you once said to me."
"Sit down, and be quiet," said Eric. Roland went to his seat, but he waited until he caught Eric's eye, and then drank to him.
Bella looked around, as if wanting help to start some subject more befitting table-talk: she looked at Eric, and nodded to him, as if beseeching him to divert the conversation from these detestable matters.
Just then the servants poured out some Johannisberg in delicate pretty glasses, and Eric said, holding the glass up before him,—
"Herr Count, such wine as this the old nations never drank out of those stone jars which we have dug up from the ground."
Bella nodded to him cheeringly, but as he said nothing further, she asked,—