The old shepherd shook his head slowly and thoughtfully, and said:
“No, we will not make the attempt; it would be deception, and could bring us no honor. I am not too weak to earn my own living, and it would be a disgrace to Charles Henry if I bought him off from his duty. The world might then think he was a coward, and had not courage enough to fight.”
“Do you think it a disgrace for a man to be wanting in courage?” said Anna Sophia, gazing at him as if her life depended upon his answer.
“I think so,” said he, calmly; “it is as bad for a man to be without courage as for a woman to be without virtue.”
Anna Sophia raised her dark, glowing eyes to heaven with an expression of deep thankfulness. Then giving way to her emotion, she threw her arms around the old shepherd, and, leaning her head upon his shoulder, she wept bitterly. He did not disturb her, but pressed her tenderly to his heart, and whispered occasionally a few loving, consoling words. He believed he understood her sorrow; he thought he knew the source of these tears. She was weeping because all hope of preventing her betrothed from being a soldier was now gone.
“Weep no more, my child,” said he, at last; “your eyes will be red; it will sadden Charles Henry, and make it harder for him to say good-by. See, there he comes to join us—do not weep, my child.”
Anna raised her head and dried her eyes hastily. “I am not weeping, father,” said she. “I entreat you do not tell Charles Henry that I have been crying—do not, if you love me. I will promise not to be sad again.”
“I will be silent, but you must keep your word and be cheerful, so as not to sadden the poor boy.”
“I will.”
Anna Sophia kept her word. She gave Charles Henry a bright, cheery welcome. While she was joking and laughing with the old man, evening came upon them, and as it cast its shadows about, Charles Henry became more and more silent and sad.