Martella hurried about, helping to get the house in order, and seemed as if there was nothing to depress her spirits.
Rothfuss complained to me that the "forest imp," as he at times called Martella, left him no peace, day or night. She wanted him to tell her why people had to be soldiers, and why there was such a thing as war; and she had abused the Prince in terms that would secure her seven years in the fortress of Illenberg, if her remarks were reported to the authorities.
She had once even wanted to run off to the Prince and tell him how wicked it was to command human beings to shoot one another, and that he should, at all events, give her lover back again, for the war was nothing to Ernst or to her.
Rothfuss called the professor to his assistance.
Richard declined the commission, remarking that it was not necessary for every maiden to know why her lover was forced to go to the wars, and that, in the present instance, he hardly knew the reason himself.
Notwithstanding this remark, he essayed to speak with Martella on the subject, and I have never seen him so nervous and confused as on that occasion; for Martella called out to him, "Do not say a word: it is all of no use." Then she embraced him, and kissed him, and pressed him to her heart.
Martella's ardent kisses had so surprised and confused him that it was some time before he could collect himself. I had never seen him so unnerved before. I believed that I understood the cause of his emotion.
Martella was a riddle which to Richard seemed more difficult of solution than to any of us.
What we had all failed to accomplish was brought about by the simple-minded Spinner.
Had she been told that she could be of use, or had she divined it? She came up to Martella and said, "Child, your lot is a hard one; but look at me: mine is still harder. My best child, indeed my only one,--for the others had left me to starve,--has also gone to the war; and though a lover be ever so dear, he is not a son, as you will sometime know when you have a son of your own."