He took his cap and went.
Now what can I say more? The typhus is a disease engendered by death
itself; the prophet speaks of it, when he says:
"Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming!"
How many have I seen die of the typhus in our hospitals, on the Saverne
hill, and elsewhere!
When men tear each other to pieces, without mercy, why should not death
come to help them? But what had this poor babe done that it must die
so soon? This, Fritz, is the most dreadful thing, that all must suffer
for the crimes of a few. Yes, when I think that my child died of this
pestilence, which war had brought from the heart of Russia to our
homes, and which ravaged all Alsace and Lorraine for six months,
instead of accusing God, as the impious do, I accuse men. Has not God
given them reason? And when they do not use it--when they let
themselves rage against each other like brutes--is He to blame for it?
But of what use are right ideas, when we are suffering!
I remember that the sickness lasted for six days, and those were the
cruelest days of my life. I feared for my wife, for my daughter, for
Safel, for Esdras. I sat in a corner, listening to the babe's
breathing. Sometimes he seemed to breathe no longer. Then a chill
passed over me; I went to him and listened. And when, by chance,
Zeffen came, in spite of the doctor's prohibition, I went into a sort
of fury; I pushed her out by the shoulders, trembling.
"But he is my child! He is my child!" she said.
"And art thou not my child too?" said I. "I do not want you all to
die!"
Then I burst into tears, and fell into my chair, looking straight
before me, my strength all gone; I was exhausted with grief.
Sorle came and went, with firm-closed lips; she prepared everything,
and cared for everybody.
At that time musk was the remedy for typhus; the house was full of
musk. Often the idea seized me that Esdras, too, was going to be sick.
Ah, if having children is the greatest happiness in the world, what
agony is it to see them suffer! How fearful to think of losing
them!--to be there, to hear their labored breathing, their delirium, to
watch their sinking from hour to hour, from minute to minute, and to
exclaim from the depths of the soul:
"Death is near at hand! There is nothing, nothing more that can be
done to save thee, my child! I cannot give thee my life! Death does
not wish for it!"
What heart-rending and what anguish, till the last moment when all is
over!
Then, Fritz, money, the blockade, the famine, the general
desolation--all were forgotten. I hardly saw the sergeant open our
door every morning, and look in, asking:
"Well, Father Moses, well?"