"O my son! My poor son! My poor, unhappy child! You are now a fugitive in the wide world, and without a home--lost and distracted--a wandering proof of the confusion of our broken household, now rent in twain and bereft of peace. His heart is a wayward one. It is easier to spoil a human being than to improve one. Let him who believes that this war is just before God rise up and plunge his sword into my son's heart!"
She had raised herself while uttering the last sentence; when she finished, she fell back in her seat again. She then suddenly and energetically sat up again, and asked, "Does Martella know of this?"
I replied that Rothfuss had taken her out into the fields with him in order to tell her all.
"It is well," she answered. "Give me the newspaper, that I may read the letter of arrest. This was the reason the director came to us yesterday and departed without saying good-by. Give me the advertisement which thousands are now reading--I am his mother."
I was obliged to tell her that I had given the paper to Rothfuss, who had asked for it in order that he might show it as a proof to Martella.
My wife nodded approvingly, and said, "Yes, Martella. Listen to what I am about to say. Ernst has run away because he was unwilling to fight in this fratricidal war. That is true enough, as far as it goes; I feel assured of that. But let me tell you something more--he is unfaithful--unfaithful to his parents, his brothers and sisters, and his betrothed. I beg of you, Henry, do not contradict me! Promise me one thing."
"Whatever you wish."
"You, my husband, and you, my children, faithfully promise me that, when I am no longer with you, you will firmly and inviolably cherish Martella as a child of the house and as one of the family."
We promised all that she asked.
"I have one other request to make. Whatever may happen, do not for a moment conceal aught from me; do no violence to yourselves for my sake. I can support everything as long as I know all."