Madame von Herbart silently took the letter and broke the seal; she read and read, and seemed as if she could not finish it. Her hand trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. Ella glided behind her chair, and looked over her shoulder; but in vain did she wipe her eyes, she could not distinguish a syllable.
"O dear mother!" she cried, "read it aloud; I can see nothing, and I would so like to know if he thought of me."
The mother read as follows:—
"I can no longer remain in a house in which, after so many stormy days, I had again found peace, and felt so happy. My father's brother, who is the general of the division of the Russian army to which I belong, has learned my wonderful escape, and discovered my retreat. He has secretly sent me an order to join him as soon as my wounds would permit; and as a soldier I must obey, although my heart bleeds at the sad necessity.
"How has my poor heart already suffered. How soon in life was I not forced to learn that happiness is a rare sojourner among men. I lost my father before I could lisp his dear name; of course I was too young to know the loss I had sustained, and the less, because my beloved mother redoubled her care and love towards the poor orphan child who lay so helpless in her gentle arms. The boy clung to this one stay with all the passionate tenderness of his character; his mother's eyes were the stars which guided him through the labyrinth of life; nothing could so grieve him as to see them veiled and darkened through his fault. But he was forced with the deepest sorrow to see that the brightness of his stars was fading. His mother's cheek became ever more and more transparent, the words which fell from her pale lips grew fainter and weaker, her wearied feet refused to bear the light weight of her frail figure, and finally—O Heaven! how was it possible that I survived her death?
"Men say of many a bitter sorrow, that it is unendurable; and yet I have lived through the deepest anguish. I know no pang of which it may be truly said, that no one has ever borne it,—that all efforts are in vain, and a speedy death the sole refuge. And thus will I strive to overcome the agony which now rends my heart.
"Farewell, honored lady, in whom I have found the image of my lost mother so vividly renewed. Your gentle voice will ever echo through my soul. Nothing can efface from my memory the kindness with which you have overwhelmed a stranger, and an enemy to your native land; the remembrance will be most dear to me so long as I shall live.
"And you, my little Ella, who would not suffer the glance of a poor wounded man, beseeching you for aid and compassion, to pass unheeded, and who have so often prayed to God for his recovery,—how could I ever forget you? You can scarcely comprehend how two whole nations can feel so bloodthirstily towards one another, how their murderous rage can exceed that of wild beasts, and all because their rulers disagree. You will shudder when you hear that I have again entered the ranks of that army so hated by your countrymen; but I am sure that you will shed more than one tear for the sake of one to whom the memory of the happy days passed near you is so precious. I have but one request to make, and that is, that you will always wear the little cross which accompanies this letter. My mother hung it round my neck when I was a child, since when I have kept and worn it as a sacred relic. Whenever your eyes fall upon it, remember your own kindness and my gratitude.
"And what will you say, my venerable benefactor, when, in the morning, instead of me, you will only find this letter? Will you condemn my conduct? I must see you once more, and again press my lips upon your hand! Once more will I give free vent to my feelings, and then must I stifle my emotions, be again a man, and fearlessly bare my breast to the blows of fate.