CHAPTER FIVE.
BAD NEWS.
If it had seemed dull and lonely in the little household of the GuldenStrasse at Lubeck after Eric had gone to sea, how much more so was itnot to the two sad women left alone to console each other when Fritz,also, had departed from home!
For days, Madame Dort appeared borne down by a weight of woe, and evenLorischen lost that customary cheeriness with which she usuallyperformed her daily duties in her endeavours to console her mistress.Mouser, too, went miaow-wowing about the house at nights, as if helikewise shared in the family despondency--not once being caught in theact of stealing the breakfast cream, a predilection for which hadhitherto been an abnormal failing on his part. So changed, indeed,became the old cat that he did not possess spirit enough to put up histail and "phit" and "fiz" at Burgher Jans' terrier, when that predatoryanimal made an occasional excursion into the parlour at meal times, tosee what he could pick up, either on the sly or in that sneaking,fawning fashion which a well-trained dog would have despised. Thiscontinued almost to the end of the month; but then came a bright littlebit of intelligence to gladden their hearts. It was like a gleam ofsunshine breaking through the dark cloud of gloom that hung over them.
Fritz wrote home from Coblentz, close to the frontier, telling howcomfortable he was, and how every one in the army of the Fatherland wasconfident as to the result of the campaign. In a few weeks at theoutside, they thought--everything was so carefully planned and everycontingency provided against--the French army of invasion would havebeen dispersed to the four winds of heaven and the war be over; and,then, the Landwehr, at all events, would be enabled to return home totheir several states and resume those peaceful employments which theirmobilisation had interrupted. Fritz said that he feared he would haveno chance of distinguishing himself in the campaign, as one alone of thethree great army corps they had already massed along the Rhine would besufficient to crush the hated foe. The only men who would probably seeany fighting would be those serving under the Crown Prince, who hadalready routed the enemy and were in active pursuit of them across theborderland. His veteran old general, Steinmetz, every one considered tobe "out of the hunt completely!" All he would see of the whole affair,they thought, would be the warriors returning home crowned with laurelsafter the victory.
Thus ran the tenor of Fritz's letter, the writer evidently not dreamingof the events in store for him; and that, instead of returning to Lubeckin a few weeks, it would be many weary months before he saw the blinkingeyes of the ancient astronomical clock in the Dom Kirche again!
Through the intricacies of the field post, too, this communication was along time in reaching the little seaport town on the North Sea, being atleast ten days old when it arrived; but what mattered that? Itcontained good news when it did come, and was as welcome as if it hadbeen dated only yesterday.
"Ah, ha!" exclaimed Lorischen, when her mistress communicated thecontents of Fritz's letter. "The young Herr will soon be back, and thenwe'll see him give Meinherr Burgher Jans the right-about. I call itscandalous, I do, his persecuting an unprotected, lone widow--justbecause her sons are away, and there's only me to look after her! But,I keep him at arm's distance, I promise you, madame. It is only histhief of a dog who manages to creep in here when I am about!"
Madame Dort blushed. She was a comely, middle-aged woman, and when shecoloured up she looked quite pretty.
"I'm sure, Lorischen," she said, "I wonder you can talk such nonsense;you are as bad as poor Eric used to be, teasing me about that little fatman! Poor Burgher Jans means no harm in coming to inquire after myhealth while Fritz is away."
"That's just what I object to, dear lady," interrupted the other; "whydoes he do it?"
"Can't you see, you stupid thing," said Madame Dort, laughing heartily,the hopeful letter of her son having quite restored her spirits, "thatis the very reason? If dear Fritz were here, he would naturally ask himhow we all are; but, as he is away now, and I never go outside thehouse, while you, my faithful Lorischen, are not very communicative, Isuppose, when you go to the Market Platz, it is plain enough to commonsense that the worthy Burgher, if he takes an interest in us, must comehere to inquire after the family himself!"
"Oh yes, I understand," answered the old nurse, in a grumbling tone.She had lived so long with the widow, whom she looked upon really as achild committed to her charge, that she considered she had a perfectright to pass an opinion on anything which did not please her. Besides,she was jealous, on behalf of the boys, of any interloper being put overtheir heads in the shape of a stepfather, she as an old spinster havinga wholesome horror of the designing nature of all men, especially of thelittle Burgher Jans, to whom she had taken an inveterate dislike. "Ohyes, I understand," she said in an ironical tone she always assumed onbeing a bit vexed; "when the cat's away the mice play!"
"I presume then," said Madame Dort dryly, "that Mouser is a good dealabsent now from his duties; for, I noticed this morning that half thatcheese in the cupboard was nibbled up. It was a good Limburger cheese,too!"
"Ach, Himmel!" exclaimed the old nurse, not perceiving the design of hermistress to change the conversation, and taking up the cudgels readilyto defend her dearly loved cat. "The poor creature has not been himselfsince the young masters have been away. He feels too lonesome to huntthe mice as he used to do so gaily in the old days, tossing them up inthe air when he caught them, and bringing them mewing to my feet,--thedear one! Why, he hardly ever touches a drop of milk now."
"Yes, I see he spares our cream--"
"Oh, madame, that was a libel on the poor animal. It was only the dearlad Eric's joke! Mouser would never touch one drop of the breakfastcream, save perhaps when we might be late for the meal, or when the dearfellow felt a little thirsty, or--"
"Ah, indeed! Yes, no doubt," interrupted Madame Dort, laughing again."He would have been at it again to-day, only Burgher Jans' dog came inat the nick of time and scared him away!"
"Did he!" said Lorischen indignantly. "It strikes me that pest of aterrier is here a good deal too much, like his master! And, talk ofhim, there he is!" she added hastily, leaving the room as a knock cameto the door.
Burgher Jans came in as the old nurse went out, brushing by him withill-concealed contempt and aversion. He was a fat little man, with longstraight hair coming down over his coat collar, and a round, full-moonsort of face, whose effect of beaming complacency was enhanced by a pairof large-rimmed tortoise-shell spectacles out of which his owl-like eyesshone with an air of balmy wisdom.
"Most worthy lady," he commenced, addressing Madame Dort with anelaborate bow, sweeping the floor with his hat. "Unto me the greatestand ever-much rapture doth it with added satisfaction bring, to tell youof the glorious success of the German arms over our greatly-overbearingand hopeful-of-victory foe."
"Dear me!" exclaimed the widow, "you are rather late with your news; Iheard from Fritz just now."
"And is the dear, well-brought-up, and worthy youth in good health?"
"He is," said Madame Dort; "and tells us to expect him home soon."
Burgher Jans looked startled at this announcement, losing a trifle ofhis beaming smile. "He is not wounded, I trust?" asked he tremblingly.
"Oh dear no, thank the good God who has watched over him," answered theother cheerfully. "Why, he has not been in battle yet! He tells usthat the French are retreating, and that the war will be over almostbefore another blow has been struck, the enemy having to surrenderbefore our irresistible battalions."
"Have you not heard of the battles of Woerth and Forbach, then?"
"No; what--when were they?"
"Where did your son Fritz write to you from, then?"
"From Coblentz. His letter is dated the day he arrived there, but Ionly got it this morning."
"Ah then, most worthy lady, two terrible battles have occurred sincethat time. We have beaten the French and forced them back into theirown country; but, alas! thousands of German lives have been lost. Theslaugh
ter has been terrific!"
"Good heavens, Burgher Jans, you alarm me!" said Madame Dort, risingfrom her chair in excitement. "Fritz told me there would be no fightingexcept between the Crown. Prince's army and the enemy!"
"The worthy young Herr was right so far," put in the little mansoothingly, "that is as regards the south of the line; but our secondarmy corps has been likewise engaged on the banks of the Saar, hurlingdisaster on the foe, although the French fought well, too, it is said.Where, however, is Herr Fritz?"
"Serving under General Steinmetz."
"Ah, then he's safe enough, dear madame. That army is but acting as thereserve. It is only my poor countrymen, the Bavarians, and the Saxonswho will have the hard work of the campaign to do. Von Bismark wants tolet out a little of their blood in return for the feverish excitementthey displayed against the Prussians in '66!"
"You relieve my mind," said Madame Dort, resuming her seat. "I thoughtfor the moment Fritz was in danger. You speak bitterly against theChancellor, however. He is a great man, and has done much for Germany."
"Oh, yes, I grant that," replied the other warmly; "still, he is one whonever forgets. He always pays out a grudge! You will see, now, ifthose poor Bavarians do not come in for all the thick of the fighting."
"You talk as if there is going to be a lot more?"
"So there is, without doubt, without doubt," said Burgher Jans, rubbinghis hands together, as if he rather enjoyed the prospect.
"In that case, then, Fritz cannot return to Lubeck as soon as he thinkspossible?" and Madame Dort looked grave again, as she said this halfquestioningly.
"I fear not, most worthy lady," replied the little man in a tone ofgreat concern; but, from the look on his face and the brisk way in whichhe still continued to rub his hands together, it might have beensurmised that the prolonged absence of poor Fritz from his home wouldnot affect him much,--in fact, that he would be rather pleased by such acontingency than not.
Madame Dort noticed this, and became quite sharp to him in consequence.
"I must beg you to say good-bye now," she said; "I've a busy day beforeme, and have no more time to waste in chatting. Good-morning, BurgherJans."
"Good-morning, most worthy lady," said the little fat man, accepting hisdismissal and bowing himself out.
"The ill-natured little manoeuvrer!" exclaimed Madame Dort, half toherself, as he left the room. Lorischen entered again at the same time,the two always playing the game apparently of one of those old-fashionedweather tellers, in which a male or female figure respectively comes outfrom the little rustic cottage whenever it is going to be wet or fine;for, as surely as the Burgher ever entered the sitting-room, the oldnurse withdrew, never returning until he had left. "The ill-naturedlittle manoeuvrer!" exclaimed Madame Dort, not thinking she wasoverheard. "I believe he would be glad to keep poor Fritz away if hecould."
"Just what I've thought all along!" said Lorischen, immensely pleased atthis acknowledgment of her superior power of discernment.
"I mean, not on account of wishing any harm to Fritz," explained thewidow, "but that he himself might be able to come here oftener."
"Just what I've said!" chirped out the old nurse triumphantly; butMadame Dort made no reply to this second thrust, and before Lorischencould say anything further, a second visitor came to the little house inthe Gulden Strasse. It seemed fated as if that was to be a day forcallers, and "people who had no business to do preventing those whohad," as the old nurse grumbled while on her way to open the street doorfor the new-comer--a courtesy Burgher Jans never required, walking in,as she said, without asking leave or license, just when he pleased!
The visitor was Herr Grosschnapper, the merchant who employed Fritz inhis counting-house and who was also a part proprietor in the ship inwhich Eric had sailed for Java. Madame Dort's heart leapt in her bosomwhen she saw the old gentleman enter the parlour.
But, the shipowner's face did not look as if he brought any pleasingnews; and, after one brief glance at his countenance, the widow's fellin sympathy. She almost anticipated the evil tidings which she wascertain he had in store for her.
"Madame Dort," he began, "pray compose yourself."
"I am quite calm, Herr Grosschnapper," she answered. "Go on with whatyou come to tell me. You have heard something of my poor boy Eric; isit not so?"
"It is, madame," replied the merchant, deceived by her composure. "Igrieve to say that I have received intelligence through the Englishhouse of Lloyd's that the _Gustav Barentz_ foundered at sea in theSouthern Ocean early this year. Two boats escaped from her with thecrew and passengers, one of which, containing the first officer andseveral hands, was picked up when those on board were in the last stageof exhaustion, by a vessel bound to Australia. The men were taken toMelbourne before any communication could be received from them, so thatis why the news of the wreck has been so long in reaching us."
"And Eric?" asked the widow, with her head bent down.
"He was with the captain in the other boat, dear madame," said HerrGrosschnapper; "but, I'm afraid there is little or no chance of theirhaving been saved, or else we would have heard of them by this time.Pray bear up under the loss, madame. He was a good son, I believe, andwould have made a good sailor and officer; but it was not to be!Remember, you have another son left."
"Ah, but not Eric, my little one, my darling!" burst forth the poorbereaved mother in a passion of tears; and then, the merchant, seeingthat any words of comfort on his part would be worse than useless,withdrew.
The violence of Madame Dort's grief, however, was soon assuaged, for shehad long been preparing herself for this blow. She had given up allhope of ever hearing from Eric again, even before Fritz left home.
Thenceforth, all her motherly love was bound up in her firstborn, nowthe only son left her; and daily she scanned the papers to learn news ofthe war.
Time passed on, the widow occasionally receiving a hurried scrawl fromFritz, who, as she knew, was now no longer resting with the reservebattalions in the fortresses of the Rhine, but marching onwards with theinvading army through France.
She heard of the terrible battle of Gravelotte, in which she dreadedthat he had taken part; but, almost before she could read the fullofficial details published in the German newspapers under militarycensorship, her anxieties were relieved by a long letter coming fromFritz, telling of his participation in the colossal contest and of hismiraculous escape without a wound, although he had been in the thick ofthe fire and numbers of his comrades from the same part of the countryhad been killed.
But, he had better news to tell--that, at least, is what he wrote, onlythe mother doubted whether any intelligence could be more important toher than the fact of his safety!
What would she think of hearing that he had been promoted to be anofficer "for gallantry in the field of battle," as the general orderread out to the whole army worded it? Would she not be proud of herFritz after that?
Aye, would she not, would not Lorischen?
And did not the entire gossiping community of Lubeck know all about itby and through the means of the old nurse before the close of the self-same day, eh?
Certainly; still, would it be believed that the very first person whomLorischen told the news to was her special antipathy, Burgher Jans? Sheactually went up to and accosted him of her own free-will on the MarketPlatz for the very purpose of telling him of Fritz's promotion! Yes,such was the case; and she not only was friendly to the little fat manon this occasion, but she actually patted his dog at the same time!
Still, Eric, the lost sailor laddie, was not forgotten in his brother'ssuccess. The mother's grief was only chastened; and almost the veryfirst thought she had on receiving the news from Fritz, and afterwardswhen she read it in official print, was "how pleased poor Eric wouldhave been at this!"
Bye-and-bye, Fritz wrote again, telling that their task had become verymonotonous. The Tenth Army Corps was detained along with several othersto besiege Metz, so hemming in Bazaine and
the remainder of the armythat had endeavoured so gallantly at Gravelotte to pierce the Germanlines, that they were powerless to assist the rest of their countrymenin driving the Teuton invader from their soil. The besieging army,which was formed of the united forces of the different corps underPrince Frederick Charles and Steinmetz, had nothing to do, said Fritz,save to stand to their guns and perform sentry duty; for the French,since the fearful battle of the 18th of August, had not once attemptedto push their way out beyond range of the guns of the fortress, underwhose shelter they were cantoned in an extended entrenched camp, andwere apparently being daily drilled and disciplined for some greateffort.
On the 31st of the month, however, Fritz told his mother later on,Bazaine made a desperate effort to break the German cordon around Metz;and this being repulsed with heavy loss, the Marshal again remainedquiet for the space of another six weeks.
During this period Madame Dort heard regularly from her son through thefield post. She sent him letters in return, telling him all the homenews she could glean, and saying that she expected him back before thewinter. She hoped, at least, that he would come by that time, for HerrGrosschnapper had informed her that he would have to fill up Fritz'splace in his counting-house if the exigencies of the war caused hiswhilom clerk to remain away any longer.
Things went on like this up to the month of October, the anniversary ofpoor Eric's going away; when, all at once, there came a cessation of theweekly letters of Fritz from headquarters.
His mother wrote to inquire the reason.
She received no answer.
Then she read in the papers of another heavy battle before Metz, inwhich the Tenth Army Corps had taken part. The engagement had happenedmore than a week before, and Fritz was silent. He might be wounded,possibly killed!
Madame Dort's anxiety became terrible.
"No news," says the proverb, "is good news;" but, to some it is the veryworst that could possibly be; for, their breasts are filled with a stormof mingled doubts and fears, while hope is deadened and there is, asyet, no balm of resignation to soothe the troubled heart! The proverbis wrong; even the most heartbreaking confirmation of one's most painfulsurmise is infinitely preferable to being kept in a state of perpetualsuspense, where one dreads the worst and yet is not absolutely certainof it.
It was so now with Madame Dort. She thought she could bear the strainno longer, but must go to the frontier herself and seek for informationof her missing son, as she had read in the newspapers of other mothersdoing. However, one afternoon, as she was sitting in the parlour in astate of utter dejection by the side of the lighted stove, for winterwas coming on and the days were getting cold, Lorischen brought in aletter to her which had just come by the post.
It was in a strange handwriting!
The widow tore it open hurriedly, glancing first at the signature at theend. "Madaleine Vogelstein!" she said aloud. "I wonder who she is; Inever heard of her before!" She then went on to read the letter.
It did not take her long to understand the sense of it.
For, after scanning the contents with startled eyes, she exclaimed, "Myson! oh, my son!" and then fell flat upon the floor in a dead faint.
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