Fritz and Eric Page 11

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  A PLEASANT SURPRISE!

  That winter was the dullest ever known in the little household of theGulden Strasse, and the coldest experienced for years in Lubeck--quiettown of cold winters, situated as it is on the shores of the ice-boundBaltic!

  It was such bitter, inclement weather, with the thermometer going downto zero and the snow freezing as it fell, that neither Madame Dort norold Lorischen went out of the house more than they could help; and, asfor Mouser, he lived and slept and miaow-wowed in close neighbourhood tothe stove in the parlour, not even the temptation of cream inducing himto leave the protection of its enjoyable warmth. For him, the micemight ravage the cupboards below the staircase, his whilom happyhunting-ground, at their own sweet will; and the birds, rendered tame bytheir privations, invade the sanctity of the balcony and the window-sills, whereon at another season their lives would not be worth amoment's purchase. He heeded them not now, nor did he, as of yore,resent the intrusion of Burgher Jans' terrier, when that predatoryanimal came prowling within the widow's tenement in company with hismaster, who had not entirely ceased his periodic visits, in spite of"the cold shoulder" invariably turned to him by Lorischen. Mouserwasn't going to inconvenience himself for the best dog in Christendom;so, on the advent of the terrier, he merely hopped from the front of thestove to the top, where he frizzled his feet and fizzed at his enemy,without risking the danger of catching an influenza, as he mightotherwise have done if he had sought refuge elsewhere out in the cold.

  Aye, for it was cold; and many was the time, when, rubbing theirtingling fingers, both the widow and Lorischen pitied the hardships towhich poor Fritz was exposed in the field, almost feeling angry andashamed at themselves for being comfortable when he had to endure somuch--as they knew from all the accounts published in the newspapers ofthe sufferings which the invading armies had to put up with, althoughFritz himself made light of his physical grievances.

  At Christmas-tide they were sad enough at his absence, with the memoryof the lost Eric also to make that merry-making time for others doublymiserable to them; but, on the dawn of the new year, their hopes beganto brighten with the receipt of every fresh piece of news from Franceconcerning the progress of the war.

  "The end cannot be far off now," they said to one another in mutualconsolation, so as to cheer up each other's drooping spirits. "Surelythe campaign cannot last much longer!"

  The last Sunday in the month came, and on this day Madame Dort andLorischen went to the Marien Kirche to service.

  Previously they had been in the habit of attending the Dom Kirche, fromthe fact of Eric's liking to see, first as a child and afterwards as agrowing boy, the great astronomical clock whose queer-looking eyesrolled so very curiously with the swing of the pendulum backwards andforwards each second; but, now, they went to the other house of God fora different reason. It, too, had an eccentric clock, distinguished fora procession of figures of the saints, which jerked themselves intonotice each hour above the dial; still it was not that which attractedthe widow there. The church was filled with large monumental figureswith white, outstretching wings, that hovered out into prominence abovethe carvings of the old oak screens, black with age. These figuresappeared as if soaring up to the roof of the chancel; and Madame Dorthad a fancy, morbid it might have been, that she could pray betterthere, surrounded as it were by guardian angels, whose protection sheinvoked on behalf of her boy lost at sea, and that other, yet alive, whowas "in danger, necessity," and possibly "tribulation!"

  After she and Lorischen had returned home from the Marien Kirche, theday passed quietly and melancholy away; but the next morning broke morecheerfully.

  It was the 30th of January, 1871. Both the lone women at the littlehouse in the Gulden Strasse remembered that fact well; for, on themorrow, the month from which they had expected such good tidings wouldbe up, and if they heard nothing before its close they must needsdespair.

  Seeing that the morning broke bright and cheerily, with the sun shiningdown through the frost-laden air, making the snow on the roofs lookcrisper and causing the icicles from the eaves to glitter in itsscintillating rays, Lorischen determined to go to market, especially asshe had not been outside the doorway, except to go to church, since theprevious week.

  She had not much to buy, it is true; but then she might have a gossipwith the neighbours and hear some news, perhaps--who knows?

  Anything might have happened without the knowledge of herself or hermistress, as no one, not even Burgher Jans, had been to visit them forever so long!

  Clad, therefore, in her thick cloak and warm boots, with her wide, red-knitted woollen shawl over her head and portly market-basket on arm,Lorischen sallied out like the dove from the ark, hoping perchance tobring back with her an olive branch of comfort; while the widow satherself down by the stove in the parlour with her needle, stitching awayat some new shirts she was engaged on to renew Fritz's wardrobe when hecame back. Seeing an opportunity for taking up a comfortable position,Mouser jumped up at once into her lap as soon as the old nurse had leftthe room, purring away with great complacency and watching in a lazy waythe movements of her busy fingers, blinking sleepily the while at theglowing fire in front of him.

  Lorischen had not been gone long when Madame Dort heard her bustlingback up the staircase without. She knew the old nurse's step well; but,besides hers, she heard the tread of some one else, and then the noisybark of a dog. A sort of altercation between two voices followed, inwhich the old nurse's angry accents were plainly perceptible; and nextthere seemed a hurried scuffle just without the parlour door, whichsuddenly burst open with a clatter, and two people entered the room.

  They were Lorischen and Burgher Jans, who both tried to speak together,the result being a confused jangle of tongues from which Madame Dortcould learn nothing.

  "I say I was first!" squeaked the Burgher in a high treble key, which healways adopted when excited beyond his usual placid mode of utterance.

  "And I say it was me!" retorted the old nurse in her gruff tones, whichwere much more like those of a man. "What right have you to try andsupplant the servant of the house, who specially went out about it, youlittle meddlesome teetotum, I'd like to know, hey?"

  "But I was first, I say! Madame Dort--"

  "Don't listen to him, mistress," interposed Lorischen. "I've just--"

  "There's news of--"

  But, bang just then came Lorischen's market-basket against the side ofthe little man's head, knocking his hat off and stopping his speechabruptly; while the old nurse muttered savagely, "I wish it had beenyour little turnip-top of a head instead of your hat, that I do!"

  "Good people! good people!" exclaimed Madame Dort, rising to her feetand dropping her needlework and Mouser--who rapidly jumped on to the topof the stove out of the reach of Burgher Jans' terrier, which, ofcourse, had followed his master into the parlour and at once made a dartat the cat as he tumbled on to the floor from the widow's lap. "Pray donot make such a noise, and both speak at once! What is the matter thatyou are so eager to tell me--good news, I trust, Lorischen, or you wouldnot have hurried back so soon?"

  Madame Dort's voice trembled with anxiety, and tears of suspense stoodin her eyes.

  "There," said Lorischen triumphantly to the Burgher, who remained silentfor the moment from the shock of the old nurse's attack. "You see foryourself that my mistress wishes me to tell her."

  "Oh, what is it--what have you heard?" cried the widow plaintively. "Donot keep me in this agony any longer!"

  And she sat down again nervously in her chair, gazing from one to theother in mute entreaty and looking as if she were going to faint.

  "There now, see what you've done!" said Lorischen, hastening to MadameDort's side. "I told you what it would be if you blurted it out likethat!"

  Burgher Jans' eyes grew quite wide with astonishment beneath the broadrims of his tortoise-shell spectacles, giving him more than ever theappearance of an owl.

  "Peace, woman!" he e
xclaimed. "I--"

  "Yes, that's it, dear mistress," interrupted the old nurse, halflaughing, half crying, as she knelt down beside the widow's chair andput her arm round her caressingly. "There's peace proclaimed at last,and the dear young Herr will come home again to you now!"

  "Peace?" repeated the widow, looking up with an anxious stare from oneto the other.

  "Yes, peace, most worthy lady," said Burgher Jans pompously in hisordinary bland voice; adding immediately afterwards for Lorischen'sespecial benefit--"and I was the first to tell you of it, after all."

  "Never mind," replied that worthy, too much overpowered with emotion atthe happiness of the widow to contest the point. "We both brought theglad tidings together. Madame, dearest mistress, you are glad, are younot?"

  But Madame Dort was silent for the moment. Her eyes were closed, andher lips moving in earnest prayer of thankfulness to Him who had heardher prayers and granted the fervent wish of her heart at last.

  "Is it really true?" she asked presently.

  "Yes, well-born and most worthy lady," replied the little fat man, whomLorischen now allowed to speak without further interruption. "OurBismark signed an armistice with the French at Versailles on Saturday bywhich Paris capitulates, the forts defending it being given over to oursoldiers, and the starving city allowed to be reprovisioned by the goodEnglish, who have prepared ever so many train-loads of food to go in forthe use of the population."

  "Ah, those good English!" chimed in Lorischen.

  "You have reason to say that, dearest maiden," continued the Burgher,bowing suavely to the old woman. "They subscribed, ah! more than amillion thalers for this purpose in London."

  "And I suppose the war will now cease?" said Madame Dort.

  "Most certainly, worthy lady," replied Burgher Jans. "The armistice isto last for three weeks to enable the French to have an election ofmembers to an assembly which will decide whether the contest shall go onany further; but there is no doubt, as their armies have all beendefeated and their resources exhausted, that hostilities will not beagain resumed. All parties are sick of fighting by this time!"

  "So I should think," exclaimed Lorischen warmly. "It has been a bloody,murdering work, that of the last six months!"

  "Yes, but good for Germany," put in the little man in his bland way.

  "Humph! much good, with widows left without their husbands and childrenfatherless, and the stalwart sons that should have been the help oftheir mothers made food for French powder and the chassepot! Besides, Idon't think the German states, Meinherr," added the old nurse morepolitely than she usually addressed the Burgher, "will get much of theplunder. Mark my words if Prussia does not take the lion's share!"

  "You have reason, dearest maiden," answered the other, agreeing with hisold opponent for once. "I've no doubt that, like the poor Bavarians whohad to do the heaviest part of the fighting, we shall get only the kicksand Prussia the halfpence!"

  "That's more than likely," said Lorischen, much pleased at thesimilarity of their sentiments; "and I suppose we can expect Herr Fritzhome soon now, eh?"

  "Probably as soon as peace is regularly established; for then, ourtroops will commence to evacuate France and march back to the Rhine,"replied Burgher Jans,--"that Rhine whose banks they have so valiantlydefended."

  "Ah, we'd better begin at once to prepare to receive our soldier lad,"said the old nurse with much cheerfulness, as if she wished to set towithout a moment's delay at making things ready for Fritz; seeing which,Burgher Jans took his departure, the widow and Lorischen both expressingtheir thanks for the good news he had brought, and the old nurseactually escorting him to the door in a most unusual fit of civility!

  The definite treaty of peace between France and Germany was completed onthe 28th February, 1871, when it was ratified by the constituentassembly sitting at Bordeaux, the conquered country surrendering two ofher richest provinces, Alsace and Lorraine, together with the fortressesof Metz and Belfort--the strongest on the frontier--besides paying anindemnity of no less a sum than five milliards of francs, some twohundred millions of pounds in English money, to the victors!

  It was a terrible price to pay for the war; for, in addition to thesesacrifices must be reckoned:-- 2,400 captured field guns; 120 eagles,flags, and standards; 4,000 fortress guns; and 11,669 officers and363,326 men taken prisoners in battle and interned in Germany--notcounting 170,000 men of the garrison of Paris who must be held to havesurrendered to their conquerors, although these were not led awaycaptive like the others, who were kept in durance until the first moietyof their ransom was paid!

  But, Prince Bismark over-reached himself in grinding down the country ashe did. He thought, that, by fixing such an enormous sum for theindemnity, France would be under the heel of Germany for years to come,as the Prussian troops were not to leave until the money was paid.Instead of which, by a general and stupendous movement of herpopulation, inflamed by a praiseworthy spirit of patriotism, the fivemilliards were paid within a year and the French soil clear of theinvader--this being the most wonderful thing connected with the war,some persons think!

  Meanwhile, Madame Dort's anxiety to behold her son again at home and hisearnest wish to the same effect had to await gratification.

  The news of the armistice before Paris reached Lubeck on the 30thJanuary; but it was not until March that the German troops began toevacuate their positions in front of the capital of France, and nearlythe end of the month before the last battalion turned its face homeward.

  Before that wished-for end was reached, Fritz was terribly heart-sickabout Madaleine.

  After a long silence, enduring for over a month, during which his mindwas torn by conflicting doubts and fears, he had received a short,hurried note from her, telling him that she had been ill and was worriedby domestic circumstances. She did not know what would become of her,she wrote, adding that he had better cease to think of her, although shewould always pray for his welfare.

  That was all; but it wasn't a very agreeable collapse to the nice littleenchanted "castle in Spain" he had been diligently building up eversince his meeting with Madaleine at Mezieres:-- it was a sad downfall tothe hopes he had of meeting her again!

  Of course, he wrote to his mother, telling her of his misery; but shecould not console him much, save by exhorting him to live in hope, forthat all would come well in good time.

  "Old people can't feel like young ones," thought Fritz. "She doesn'tknow what I suffer in my heart."

  And so time rolled on slowly enough for mother and son; he, counting thedays--sadly now, for his return was robbed of one of its chiefexpectations; she, gladly, watching to clasp her firstborn in her armsonce more. Ample amends she thought this would be to her for all theanxiety she had suffered since Fritz had left home the previous summer,especially after her agonised fear of losing him!

  Towards the close of March, the Hanoverian regiments returned to theirdepot, Fritz being forwarded on to Lubeck.

  As no one knew the precise day or hour when the train bearing him homemight be expected to arrive, of course there was no one speciallywaiting at the railway station to welcome him back. Only the ordinarycuriosity-mongers amongst the townspeople were there; but these werealways on the watch for new-comers. They raised a sort of cheer when heand his comrades belonging to the neighbourhood alighted from therailway carriages; but, although the cheering was hearty, and Fritz andthe others joined in the popular Volkslieder that the townspeoplestarted, the young sub-lieutenant missed his mother's dear face andLorischen's friendly, wrinkled old countenance, both of whom, somehow orother without any reason to warrant the assumption, he had thought wouldhave been there.

  It was in a melancholy manner, therefore, that he took his way towardsthe Gulden Strasse and the little house he had not seen for so long--could it only have been barely nine months ago?

  How small everything looked now, after his travels and experiences ofthe busy towns and handsome cities of France which he had but so latelypassed through! All
here seemed quiet, quaint, diminutive, old-fashioned, like the resemblance to some antique picture, or the dreamcity of a dream!

  Presently, he is in the old familiar street of his youth. It seemed solong and wide then; now, he can traverse its length in two strides, andit is so narrow that the buildings on either side almost meet in themiddle.

  But, the home-coming charm is on him; love draws him forward quicklylike a magnet! He sees his mother's house at the end of the street. Heis up the outside stairway with an agile bound.

  With full heart, he bursts open the door, and, in a second, is withinthe parlour. He hears his mother's cry of joy.

  "My son, my son!" and she throws herself on his neck, as he clasps herin a fond embrace, recollecting that once he never expected to havelived to see her again.

  And Lorischen, too, she comes forward with a handshake and a hug for theboy she has nursed on her knee many a time in the years agone.

  But, who is this besides?

  "What! Madaleine?" exclaims Fritz.

  "Yes, it is I," she replies demurely, a merry smile dancing on her face,and a glad light in the bright blue eyes.

  This was the surprise Madame Dort had prepared for Fritz--a pleasantone, wasn't it, with which to welcome him home?