"No, I will go with you. Don't refuse me. Don't let us waste useless words. I will go with you."
We departed in the evening. We rested in beds, upon which soon should lie the sorely wounded. But, indeed, we, too, bore painful wounds in our hearts.
CHAPTER XII.
It was well that Rolunt accompanied us; for I had not the strength to support Bertha in this wearisome journey, and to distract and lead her away from her quiet, noiseless brooding, and her counting the minutes as they slowly passed.
The Professor had continually something to tell us, either of the points that we hurriedly passed, or of the sanitary aids who were with us. He told us of this and that one who had been a spoiled child--the pet of some fond mother--and now was suffering great hardships. This was the second supply train that he had accompanied; he had been the chief of the first one, and had much that was moving to tell us of the self-sacrificing conduct of the non-combatants. The employés of the post-office and the railroads were specially endeared to him, and he related wonderful instances of their activity and endurance.
Bertha scarcely uttered a word; for the most part she only quietly held my hand. At times, she said, "Ah! the locomotive might be urged to move faster; it seems to me that it goes much too slowly."
The Professor assured her that we should esteem ourselves lucky to reach our destination. Who knows how soon we should hear, "Halt, we go no further."
Once Bertha arose; her face had in it something mysterious and strange, and she cried out, "Father, hold me!"
"What is the matter? What is it?"
"I think I must escape from myself. I will not live if he is dead. Oh! pardon me," she again exclaimed, sinking back into her seat, "I cannot endure the torment of my thoughts. How is it possible--how can it agree with any order in human affairs, that a piece of lead can destroy a full, rich, noble, human life!"