It went hard to make Martella understand that this plan was nothing more than an idle dream.
The battle was over, and peace had been concluded.
Although Austria was separated from Germany, there was, as yet, no real Germany. While the high contracting parties were framing the chief clauses of their treaty, the Frenchman who was looking over their shoulders took the pen in his own hand and drew a black mark across the page, and called it "the line of the Main."
The Major came home, and the joy of Bertha and her children knew no bounds. The Major, however, seemed unable to shake off a deep fit of melancholy.
He was a strict disciplinarian. He never allowed himself to say aught against his superiors or their orders; but now, he could not keep down his indignation at the manner in which the war had been conducted. When a nation really goes to war it should be in greater earnest about its work.
There was much distrust, both as to the courage and the loyalty and firmness of the leaders. While the Major's feelings as a soldier had been outraged, there were many other thoughts which suggested themselves to him as a lover of his country, and in regard to which he maintained silence.
He told us that Annette had behaved with dignity and composure when she went to receive the body of her husband. But now it was evident that she had attempted too much; that she was unwell, and would be obliged until autumn to repair to the sea-side, where her mother-in-law would be with her.
When the Major remarked that he had heard it said that in this war even slight wounds might prove fatal, because every one was so filled with mortification, on account of this unholy strife, that the very idea itself would serve to aggravate even the slightest wound, my wife exclaimed, "Yes, it is indeed so. There are wounds which are made fatal by the thoughts of those who receive them."
We all felt that she was thinking of Ernst, and remained silent.
The Major did not mention Ernst's name, nor did he inquire whether we had heard from him.