"Bring him in, bring him in!" cried the old gentleman, and the old peasant Deyke came in amongst the excited group, looking as calm and dignified as usual, but with a deep and gloomy gravity spread over his sharp features.
"Well, dear Deyke," cried the president, "have you heard the news; do you come to consult with us how to send in the quickest way all that our brave soldiers need?"
"I have received a letter from my Fritz," said the peasant solemnly, whilst he respectfully took the hand held out to him by the president.
"Well, and how does the brave young fellow get on? cried the old gentleman.
"Has he seen my son?" asked Madame von Wendenstein, gazing at the peasant with anxious eyes.
"He has found the lieutenant," he replied, laconically.
"And my son lives?" cried the poor lady with hesitation. She feared to hear the answer which must touch the inmost string of her heart.
"He lives," said old Deyke. "I wish to say a couple of words to the president alone," he stammered.
"No!" cried Madame von Wendenstein, vehemently, "no, not alone. Deyke, you have some bad news, but I will hear it; I am strong enough to hear anything, but I cannot bear suspense. I beg you," she continued, looking affectionately at her husband, "to let me hear what he has to tell."
The president looked undecided. The pastor came forward slowly.