Up and down the valley, in all the villages of the district, there was
busy life on this Sunday morning. The children on the street announced
to one another that they too were going. Not a few were exceedingly
proud, for soldiers' caps had been given them; and many a father was
persuaded into promising his son that he would buy him one, too. The
youth of the whole district seemed to have caught a martial enthusiasm.
The men of the fire-companies, in glittering helmets, gray linen coats,
and red belts, assembled before the court-house. They formed in line,
the signals were sounded; and they marched out, accompanied by an
escort of men, women, and children. They stopped at the forest to put
green twigs in their caps. The children shouted, the old people walked
thoughtfully along, and the maids and matrons, in their Sunday dress,
whispered to one another.
As the little mountain-rivulets flow down to the river in the valley,
so to-day, the stream of humanity rose, and flowed down the roads and
foot-paths, to the May-meadow near the city.
But there were few of the old peasant-costumes to be seen among the
men. Military service and the railroads do away with that, and efface
the many distinguishable differences between village and city. But in
still another manner a new ground of equality is established. This
marching side by side, and especially the election of the officers of
the soldiers' associations and fire companies, bring about an
equalization or readjustment of the former classification. To be sure
the captain of the organization was the district forester, but Anton
Armbruster was unanimously chosen lieutenant; and the son of the
district physician, who was a merchant, and a member of the
association, had cast his vote for Anton.
Landolin reached the valley in good season. The May-meadow on which the
procession was to disband, where tables were arranged, and a green
platform put up for the speakers, was kept clear by the young pupils of
the Gymnasium.
The women and young girls, with their white aprons and gay caps, sat in
rows and groups in the outer meadow near the forest, and some daring
boys had climbed the linden trees, which to-day sent out a strong
fragrance.
"They are coming! They are coming!" was heard among the waiting crowd;
and the music of the trumpets at the head of the column was drowned by
the hurrahs which arose from the people on the hollow slope of the
meadow, and in the trees.
Landolin stood on the edge of the crowd, near the students, and was
surrounded by a group of people who seemed not to know him.
The procession drew nearer. The band struck up one of the national
hymns, and all the people joined in singing.
"Who is carrying the flag? Why, that is not the miller's Anton--where
is he? I don't see him. He isn't there at all."
These words Landolin heard from the people behind him, and a feeling of
terror came over him. He had intended to walk by Anton's side, and show
the whole world on what friendly terms he was with the man who was so
highly honored. Now Landolin felt as though his protector had forsaken
him. He strained his eyes to see if Anton was not there after all, but
he was not to be seen.
"See the lieutenant there. That is the son of the district judge--it
was good of him to get a furlough to come to the celebration. Yes; he
has inherited his good disposition from his parents; his mother in
particular."
Thus the people around Landolin were talking. Then he heard a person
who had just come up say:
"Do you know why Anton Armbruster did not come? He is ashamed, though
he hasn't done anything to be ashamed of; but Landolin, whose acquittal
was such an atrocity, was to be his father-in-law. Aha! There stands
Landolin himself! That man there with the broad back, that's he."
Landolin's broad back moved. The cordon of students was broken, and he
found himself in the midst of the festivities.