"Father, forgive!" he moaned. "Martella, pardon! Oh! mother--father!"
He breathed his last breath. I just saw Martella throw herself upon him, with an agonizing cry; then I saw and heard nothing more.
BOOK SIXTH.
CHAPTER I.
"Stand firm! Face the bullets!" With these words, Ernst had encouraged his men to the last. My own experience illustrated them.
For a considerable time, I did not know what had happened, either to me or to those about me. I only knew that I lay behind a white curtain with blue flowers, and could not keep my eyes open for any length of time. The flowers assumed all sorts of odd shapes, and the fantastic figures seemed to be ever changing and rushing towards me.
I think I was not really sick, only inexpressibly weak; and the fatigue and exhaustion prevented me from directing my thoughts at will. I was childishly grateful for everything. I looked at the wood in the door and rejoiced that it was firm; I heard the fire in the stove and was delighted that it warmed me; I was grateful to the bed that supported me, so that I did not need to do it myself.
I remember that Bertha and Annette would occasionally visit me; but my grandson Wolfgang stayed with me nearly all the time. Through the hardships of war and constant exposure, Wolfgang had almost ripened into manhood. He had become stronger and stouter than of old, and his voice was now more manly.