There was something cold and hard as iron in Ludwig's manner towards all except his nearest kindred, to whom he was kind and gentle.
This interruption was a shrill dissonance in our Sunday's pleasure. We soon forgot it, however.
CHAPTER VIII.
In the afternoon, Julius and his betrothed visited us, and, in a little while, letters containing uniform messages were sent in all directions. The Professor, my daughter-in-law, Wolfgang, Johanna and her daughter, Julius and his intended, all wrote; for every one was to have a separate invitation to the great family gathering on the following Sunday. At Ludwig's request, all of our relatives were informed that he insisted on their making the journey at his charge. Those who did not need it should state the amount, nevertheless, and if they so wished might give it to the poor. In this way, no one who could not afford the expense would be prevented from undertaking the journey.
Rothfuss and Ikwarte walked off to town to mail the letters, of which there were nearly fifty. To my sister who lived in the Hagenau forest, I wrote in person.
Rothfuss had told Ikwarte all that he had done for Ludwig, and was not a little surprised to receive, instead of praise, a nod of disapproval and the reproach, "It was not right, after all." He told me of it, and could not understand how that "up there in Prussia," they were not all opposed to the government and glad to deceive it. He seemed to think that Ikwarte, and all like him, were exceedingly simple.
Rothfuss was as jealous of Carl as a reigning prince of the heir apparent. He noticed that Ikwarte was well inclined toward Carl, whose good looks and military air were much in his favor, and he went so far as to confide to Ikwarte that Carl had suffered himself to be taken prisoner in order to avoid fighting.
After that Rothfuss was the sole favorite of Ikwarte, who hardly bestowed a glance on Carl, and barely answered his questions.
A soldier who voluntarily allows himself to be captured! He could not understand how such a man could walk erect, and on Sundays wear his soldier's cap with the red pompon.
"He knows nothing about oxen, but he is a first-rate judge of horses," said Rothfuss, speaking of Ikwarte; "and he holds the plough as if he were screwed fast to it. And he can work, too; that's certain. And he is modest. Instead of saying 'No,' he always says, 'I am not sure;' and instead of saying 'Yes,' he says, 'It is so.' He can't sing, nor even yodel; and the greatest praise he gives any one is to say, 'He is a steady fellow.' And when he wishes to say that you are right, he says, 'It agrees.' And he is not at all inquisitive; he never asks who any one is."