ur old comrade had already become drunk
on French wine, we left him behind at the village and took up our
journey to my sister, the wife of the forester at Hagenau.

The most difficult task of all was to endure the vainglorious boasting
of the Frenchmen. My brother-in-law treated us as if he were a gracious
nobleman, who had taken us under his protection. His neighbors soon
joined the party, and proud words were heard on every hand: the French
were the great nation--theirs was the republic--their country the
refuge of the oppressed and persecuted. And we--what were we? Rent
asunder and bound down, while our Rhine provinces were happy in the
faith that they would soon become a portion of proud and beautiful
France. Another brother-in-law, the pastor of Huenfeld, who had studied
at Erlangen, gave us some little consolation, for he said that in
science the Germans were the greatest of nations.

"Father," said Ludwig, "I cannot endure this; I shall not remain here
another day."

I felt as he did, and we took our departure for Strasburg. At the
Gutenberg Platz we were obliged to halt our horses, for the guard were
just marching by. All seemed as happy if a piece of good fortune had
just befallen them. All was as merry as a wedding-feast, while with our
neighbors beyond the line there was funereal sadness.

Strasburg was crowded with fugitives, by some of whom Ludwig was at
once recognized. We went with a party of them to the Grape Vine Tavern,
and whom should we meet at the door but the very comrade we had left
behind.

He had a curious contrivance about his throat. It was a simple rope
with a knot tied in it; and he called out to Ludwig that he too was
entitled to wear this grand cordon. He conducted us into the room
where, at a table apart from the rest, were seated young men and old,
all of whom had ropes around their necks.

"Ah! here comes the father of 'the King of the Turners'!" were the
words with which a large and powerfully built man welcomed me. I
recognized him as the man who had been my guide during the September
riots. "Hurrah, comrades! Here comes another companion. This way,
Ludwig; this is the seat of honor. All who are seated here are under
sentence of death, and as a badge we wear this rope about our necks."
And they sang:

Should princes ask: "Where's Absalom?"
And seek to learn his plight--
Just tell them he is hanging high;
The poor, unlucky wigh