tella returned. She was quite joyful, and
maintained that Ernst had been saved and would soon return to us.

She had arranged everything with the old spinner. The two of them would
go to the Prince, and the spinner would say to him, "My son is dead!
but give me the one who was born on the same day, and wipe out all that
stands against him!" Or else the spinner would say, "My tears shall
wash away all the charges that stand written against him on the slate."

It went hard to make Martella understand that this plan was nothing
more than an idle dream.

The battle was over, and peace had been concluded.

Although Austria was separated from Germany, there was, as yet, no real
Germany. While the high contracting parties were framing the chief
clauses of their treaty, the Frenchman who was looking over their
shoulders took the pen in his own hand and drew a black mark across the
page, and called it "the line of the Main."

The Major came home, and the joy of Bertha and her children knew no
bounds. The Major, however, seemed unable to shake off a deep fit of
melancholy.

He was a strict disciplinarian. He never allowed himself to say aught
against his superiors or their orders; but now, he could not keep down
his indignation at the manner in which the war had been conducted. When
a nation really goes to war it should be in greater earnest about its
work.

There was much distrust, both as to the courage and the loyalty and
firmness of the leaders. While the Major's feelings as a soldier had
been outraged, there were many other thoughts which suggested
themselves to him as a lover of his country, and in regard to which he
maintained silence.

He told us that Annette had behaved with dignity and composure when she
went to receive the body of her husband. But now it was evident that
she had attempted too much; that she was unwell, and would be obliged
until autumn to repair to the sea-side, where her mother-in-law would
be with her.

When the Major remarked that he had heard it said that in this war even
slight wounds might prove fatal, because every one was so filled with
mortification, on account of this unholy strife, that the very idea
itself would serve to aggravate even the slightest wound, my wife
exclaimed, "Yes, it is indeed so. There are wounds which are made fatal
by the thoughts of those who receive them."

We all felt that she was thinking of Ernst, and remained silent.

The Major did not mention Ernst's