Then, presently, as is the habit of certain people, he found comfort in blaming someone else. He flew into a wild fury against Napoleon; he cursed him; he cried out vengeance against him, and he swore that as long as he had a drop of blood in his veins he would struggle to overthrow him. The soldier paid no heed. With his unhurt hand he had been feeling the heart of the young Prussian.
"Get water, old man," he interrupted. "Quick! Quick! The Herr Lieutenant still lives!"
Hans, laying down the head of his daughter, drew from his pocket a flask.
"It is brandy," he said. "They gave it to me for the wounded in Jena."
The soldier poured some drops down the officer's throat. He ordered Hans to fling open doors and windows and they made the poor fellow more comfortable.
Then they covered the dead with sheets from the sleeping room beds.
"Ach Himmel!" cried Hans suddenly. "The children!"
He ran into the garden. Above the noise of the animals sounded the distant wail of a babe. Following the sound, Hans came upon Bettina, little Hans, and baby August.
They had hidden in the forest, Bettina holding the baby wrapped in her mother's shawl.
"Grandfather, oh, grandfather," and she burst into sobs, "he cries so, I can't stop him."