The sergeant turned back to his men, cursing horribly to himself. Suddenly he spat upon the pavement in disgust.
“A devil’s job!” he muttered, and took a short turn up and down, without looking at his men. In a moment the old woman reappeared in the door. “Well, mother?” he demanded, gruffly.
“I have told him. He will be here at once.”
As she spoke, a fair-haired youth of perhaps twenty appeared on the threshold and saluted. His eyes were red with weeping, but he held himself proudly erect.
“Hermann Gronau?” asked the sergeant.
“Yes.”
“Fall in!”
With a shriek of anguish, the woman threw her arms about him and strained him close.
“My boy!” she moaned. “My youngest one—my baby—they are taking you also!”
“I shall be back, mother, never fear,” he said, and loosened her arms gently. “You will write me when—when it is over.”