Rautenkron grasped a young tree by the roadside, and broke it in two;
then he sank on his knees. We lifted him up.

"It is right thus. So it should be," he said. "Here, on this very
spot--do you remember?--I warned you when your wife went to bring her
home. Tell me, wise man, what was that? I heard something in her voice,
and did not wish to believe it. Turenne," he said, turning to his dog,
"you killed her dog. Be quiet; I told you to do it."

He followed us to the house, but did not utter a word on the way.

We went to her room. She had taken nothing with her but the embroidered
satchel, which, before that, had always hung over the mirror; and also
Ernst's prize cup. The clothes that she had inherited from my wife she
had carefully arranged and placed to one side.

We asked Rothfuss how long it was since she had disappeared.

They had been hunting for her ever since the morning of the day before,
but in vain. No sign of where she had gone could be found.

Rautenkron left the room and went out into the garden. He sat there for
a long while, holding his rifle between his knees. I begged him to
return to the house with me. He was looking on the ground, and did not
raise his head. I asked him to give me his rifle. He looked up towards
me, and, with a strange smile, said: "Don't be alarmed; I am not such a
fool as to shoot myself."

I walked away. A little while afterward, I heard a shot, and hurried
out again. Rautenkron sat there, holding his gun with both hands, but
his beautiful brown spaniel lay dead at his feet.

When he saw me, he exclaimed:

"Now I am quite alone. I had intended to give Turenne to you, but it is
better thus. The beast might have been stupid enough to long for me."

The sound of drums was heard from over the hills. The Colonel arrived
with his regiment, and all hurried out to meet him.

And the Englishman stood at the brook, angling.

BOOK FIFTH.

CHAPTER I.

Trumpets sounded, drums rolled, and songs from thousands of voices were
heard in the valley and on the hills. All was joyous commotion. Thus,
singing, does a nation take the field for its protection and salvation.

In the midst of anxiety for great things, for one's country, we ought
to be troubled by no mere personal cares. But who can avoid them? The
general sorrow is infinitely divided, and every one must bear his
share.

That my son-in-law, two g