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floating feather。 Ulrich sat up and watched them； the little rogues；
the little foolish； helpless things； that called for so much care。 A
mother thrush twittered above his head。 Ulrich rose and creeping on
tiptoe； peeped into the nest。 But the mother bird； casting one glance
towards him； went on with her work。 Whoever was afraid of Ulrich the
wheelwright！ The tiny murmuring insects buzzed to and fro about his
feet。 An old man； passing to his evening rest； gave him 〃good…day。〃
A zephyr whispered something to the leaves； at which they laughed；
then passed upon his way。 Here and there a shadow crept out from its
hiding…place。
〃If only I could marry the whole village！〃 laughed Ulrich to himself。
But that； of course； is nonsense！
The spring that followed let loose the dogs of war again upon the
blood…stained land； for now all Germany； taught late by common
suffering forgetfulness of local rivalries； was rushing together in a
mighty wave that would sweep French feet for ever from their hold on
German soil。 Ulrich； for whom the love of woman seemed not； would at
least be the lover of his country。 He； too； would march among those
brave stern hearts that； stealing like a thousand rivulets from every
German valley； were flowing north and west to join the Prussian
eagles。
But even love of country seemed denied to Ulrich of the dreamy eyes。
His wheelwright's business had called him to a town far off。 He had
been walking all the day。 Towards evening； passing the outskirts of a
wood； a feeble cry for help； sounding from the shadows； fell upon his
ear。 Ulrich paused； and again from the sombre wood crept that weary
cry of pain。 Ulrich ran and came at last to where； among the wild
flowers and the grass； lay prone five human figures。 Two of them were
of the German Landwehr； the other three Frenchmen in the hated uniform
of Napoleon's famous scouts。 It had been some unimportant 〃affair of
outposts；〃 one of those common incidents of warfare that are never
recordednever remembered save here and there by some sad face
unnoticed in the crowd。 Four of the men were dead； one； a Frenchman
was still alive； though bleeding copiously from a deep wound in the
chest that with a handful of dank grass he was trying to staunch。
Ulrich raised him in his arms。 The man spoke no German； and Ulrich
knew but his mother tongue； but when the man； turning towards the
neighbouring village with a look of terror in his half…glazed eyes；
pleaded with his hands； Ulrich understood； and lifting him gently
carried him further into the wood。
He found a small deserted shelter that had been made by
charcoal…burners； and there on a bed of grass and leaves Ulrich laid
him； and there for a week all but a day Ulrich tended him and nursed
him back to life； coming and going stealthily like a thief in the
darkness。 Then Ulrich； who had thought his one desire in life to be
to kill all Frenchmen； put food and drink into the Frenchman's
knapsack and guided him half through the night and took his hand； and
so they parted。
Ulrich did not return to Alt Waldnitz； that lies hidden in the forest
beside the murmuring Muhlde。 They would think he had gone to the war；
he would let them think so。 He was too great a coward to go back to
them and tell them that he no longer wanted to fight； that the sound
of the drum brought to him only the thought of trampled grass where
dead men lay with curses in their eyes。
So； with head bowed down in shame； to and fro about the moaning land；
Ulrich of the dreamy eyes came and went； guiding his solitary
footsteps by the sounds of sorrow； driving away the things of evil
where they crawled among the wounded； making his way swiftly to the
side of pain； heedless of the uniform。
Thus one day he found himself by chance near again to forest…girdled
Waldnitz。 He would push his way across the hills； wander through its
quiet ways in the moonlight while the good folks all lay sleeping。
His foot…steps quickened as he drew nearer。 Where the trees broke he
would be able to look down upon it； see every roof he knew so
wellthe church； the mill； the winding Muhldethe green； worn grey
with dancing feet； where； when the hateful war was over； would be
heard again the Saxon folk…songs。
Another was there； where the forest halts on the brow of the hilla
figure kneeling on the ground with his face towards the village。
Ulrich stole closer。 It was the Herr Pfarrer； praying volubly but
inaudibly。 He scrambled to his feet as Ulrich touched him； and his
first astonishment over； poured forth his tale of woe。
There had been trouble since Ulrich's departure。 A French corps of
observation had been camped upon the hill； and twice within the month
had a French soldier been found murdered in the woods。 Heavy had been
the penalties exacted from the village； and terrible had been the
Colonel's threats of vengeance。 Now； for a third time； a soldier
stabbed in the back had been borne into camp by his raging comrades；
and this very afternoon the Colonel had sworn that if the murderer
were not handed over to him within an hour from dawn； when the camp
was to break up； he would before marching burn the village to the
ground。 The Herr Pfarrer was on his way back from the camp where he
had been to plead for mercy； but it had been in vain。
〃Such are foul deeds！〃 said Ulrich。
〃The people are mad with hatred of the French；〃 answered the Herr
Pastor。 〃It may be one； it may be a dozen who have taken vengeance
into their own hands。 May God forgive them。〃
〃They will not come forwardnot to save the village？〃
〃Can you expect it of them！ There is no hope for us； the village will
burn as a hundred others have burned。〃
Aye； that was true； Ulrich had seen their blackened ruins； the old
sitting with white faces among the wreckage of their homes； the little
children wailing round their knees； the tiny broods burned in their
nests。 He had picked their corpses from beneath the charred trunks of
the dead elms。
The Herr Pfarrer had gone forward on his melancholy mission to prepare
the people for their doom。
Ulrich stood alone； looking down upon Alt Waldnitz bathed in
moonlight。 And there came to him the words of the old pastor： 〃She
will be dearer to you than yourself。 For her you would lay down your
life。〃 And Ulrich knew that his love was the village of Alt Waldnitz；
where dwelt his people； the old and wrinkled； the laughing 〃little
ones；〃 where dwelt the helpless dumb things with their deep pathetic
eyes； where the bees hummed drowsily； and the thousand tiny creatures
of the day。
They hanged him high upon a withered elm； with his face towards Alt
Waldnitz； that all the village； old and young； might see； and then to
the beat of drum and scream of fife they marched away； and
forest…hidden Waldnitz gathered up once more its many threads of quiet
life and wove them into homely pattern。
They talked and argued many a time； and some there were who praised
and some who blamed。 But the Herr Pfarrer could not understand。
Until years later a dying man unburdened his soul so that the truth
became known。
Then they raised Ulrich's coffin reverently；