"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."
"Yes," she promised, and he took his place in the ranks.
"March!" cried the sergeant, and the section tramped away with Gronau in its midst. At the corner, he turned and waved his hand in farewell to the old woman. For a moment longer she stood clutching at the door and staring at the place where he had vanished, then turned slowly back into the house.