"Do you know what is going on to-day?" said Madaleine Vogelstein to her
patient, a couple of days after she had aided him to scrawl that
postscript to her letter to his mother in his own handwriting, when he
had so far recovered that he might be said to be almost convalescent.
"No, what--anything important?" he replied, answering her question in
questionable fashion by asking another.
"Guess," said she teasingly, holding up her finger. "I'm sure I can't."
"The capitulation of Metz!" she said slowly with some emphasis, marking
the importance of the news she was telling.
"Never--it can't be!" ejaculated Fritz, making an effort to spring up in
the pallet bed on which he was still lying, but falling back with a
groan on finding himself too weak. "What an unlucky beggar I am!"
"Lie still," said she, putting her hand gently on his, which was outside
the quilt. "You must keep quiet, or you'll never get better, so as to
be able to stand up and walk about again--no, you won't, if you try to
hurry matters now."
"That's more than the French have done if they've only just given in!
Is it true, though? Perhaps you've only heard a rumour, for there are
always such false reports flying about. Why, in the camp it used to be
the current cry every morning, after we began the siege, that Metz had
fallen."
"It is true enough now, I can tell you," said Madaleine. "The whole
French army commanded by Bazaine has capitulated, and the Germans have
marched in and taken possession of the fortress."
"I must believe you; but, is it not aggravating that this should just
happen when I am invalided here, and not able to take part in the final
triumph? It is rather hard lines, after serving so long in the trenches
all during our wearisome environment, not to have had the satisfaction
in the end of being a witness to the surrender!"
"It's the fortune of war," said she soothingly, noticing how bitterly
Fritz spoke. "Although all may fight bravely, it is not every one who
reaps the laurels of victory."
"No," he replied, smiling at some thoughts which her words suggested--so
much is dry humour allied to sentiment that the mention of laurels
brought to his mind a comic association which at once dispelled his
chagrin. "When did you say the capitulation took place?"
"Well, I heard that the formal agreement was signed by the French
officers on behalf of Marshal Bazaine two days ago; but the actual
surrender takes place to-day, the Marshal having already left, it is
said, to join his imprisoned emperor at Cassel."
What Madaleine told Fritz was perfectly true.
On the 27th of October, the seventieth day after it had been driven
under the guns of Metz on the disastrous termination of the battle of
Gravelotte, Bazaine's army, in addition to the regular garrison of the
fortress and an unknown number of Gardes Mobiles, was forced to
surrender to the Germans--thus now allowing the latter to utilise the
giant legions hitherto employed in investing the stronghold of Lorraine,
in further trampling out the last evidences of organised resistance in
France, and so, by coercing the country, sooner put an end to the
duration of the war.
Notwithstanding all the comments made--especially those by his own
countrymen in their unreasoning prejudice against every one and
everything connected with the late empire, from its unfortunate and
much-maligned head downwards--in the matter of this capitulation, and on
Marshal Bazaine's conduct, it is absolutely certain that he held out as
long as it was possible to do so. Indeed, it is a surprising fact that
his provisions lasted such a length of time; and it would be a cause for
sorrow to believe that the brave defender of Metz was in any way stained
by the crime of "treachery" as his act was stigmatised by the demagogues
of Paris. Those who assert that a clever commander ought somehow or
other to have made his escape from the place, do not take into
consideration the strength of the investing force, which comprised the
united armies of Prince Frederick Charles and Steinmetz--more than two
hundred and fifty thousand men, in addition to their reserves, all
capable of being concentrated at any given point where an attack was
anticipated, and protected, besides, by entrenched lines of great
strength. Nor do these biassed critics consider the ruin that must have
fallen on Bazaine's army, even if it had succeeded in cutting its way
through the ranks of the besiegers, as the general tried gallantly, but
unsuccessfully, to do on more than one occasion, besides making numerous
sorties. It is apparent to most unprejudiced minds now, at this
distance of time from the momentous epoch of the struggle between the
two nations, that the Marshal, in his situation, accomplished all that
could have been expected in detaining for such a length of time a huge
German army nearly on the frontier, thus giving the invaded country
breathing time to collect its resources for just so long a period. The
fact is, that when an army like that of Bazaine's is severed from its
communications and supplies, its surrender can only be a question of
time; and, therefore, unparalleled as is the capitulation of Metz in
modern history, the unprecedented catastrophe--can be fully accounted
for on military grounds.
"I'm sorry I missed the sight," said Fritz presently, after thinking
over the news. "It would have been some fair return for all that bitter
night work I had in the trenches before I was wounded. Still, I'm glad
it's all ended now, for my corps will be able to march onward on Paris
like the rest."
"That will not benefit you much, my poor friend," remarked Madaleine
sympathisingly. "I'm afraid it will be some time before you will be
strong enough to move from this room, although you're improving each
day."
"Oh, will it?" said Fritz triumphantly; "that's all you know about it,
young lady! Why, Doctor Carl said this morning that he thought I would
be able to report myself fit for duty in another week."
"I suppose you'll rejoice to get back to your friends and comrades in
the regiment? You must find it miserable and dull enough in this
place!"
"No, not quite that. I've been very happy and comfortable here the last
few days; and I shall never forget all your kindness and care of me--no,
never!"
"Don't speak of that, pray; it's only what any one else would have done
in my place. Besides," she added demurely, "you know that in attending
to you as a wounded soldier, I have only been carrying out the orders of
the baroness, my employer."
"Hang the fussy old thing!" said Fritz impatiently trying to shrug his
shoulders. He had had the honour of one interview with Madaleine's
distinguished patroness, and did not crave for another; for, she had a
good deal of that old-fashioned, starched formality which the German
nobility affect, mixed up with a fidgety, condescending, patronising
manner which much annoyed the generous-minded young fellow. He burned
with indignation all the time the visit of the old lady to him had
lasted, for she ordered Madaleine to do this and corrected her for doing
that, in, as he thought, the rudest manner possible. Her exquisitely
dignified patronage of himself, as a species of inferior animal, who,
being in pain and distress, she was bound in common charity to take some
notice of, caused him no umbrage whatever; but it annoyed him to see a
gentle, ladylike girl like Madaleine subjected to the whims and caprices
of an old woman, who, in spite of her high birth, was naturally vulgar
and inconsiderate. "Hang the fussy old thing!" he repeated, with
considerable heat. "I wish you had nothing to do with her. I'm sure
she would drive me mad in a day if I were constantly associated with
her!"
"Ah, dear friend, beggars mustn't be choosers," said Madaleine sadly.
"You forget my position, in your kind zeal on my behalf! A poor orphan
girl such as I, left friendless and penniless, ought to be glad to be
under the protection of so grand a lady as the Baroness Stolzenkop. She
is kind to me, too, in her way."
"But, what a way!" interposed Fritz angrily. "I wouldn't speak to a dog
in that fashion."
"You are different."
"I should hope so, indeed!"
"Besides, Herr Fritz, remember, that if it hadn't been for this old
lady, of whom you speak in such disrespectful terms, I should never have
come here to Mezieres and been able to nurse you."
"I forgot for the moment, Fraulein. My blessing on the old catamaran
for the fancy that seized her, so auspiciously, to go touring on the
trail of the war and thus to bring you here. I don't believe I would
have lived, if it had not been for your care and kindness!"
"Meinherr, you exaggerate. It is to your own good constitution and to
Providence that your thanks are due; I have only been a simple means
towards that happy end."
"Well, I shall always attribute my recovery to you, at all events; and
so will my good mother, who I hope will some day be able to thank you in
person for all that you've done for me and her."
"I should like to see her," said Madaleine; "she must be a kind, good
lady, from her letters to you."
"And the fondest mother in the world!" exclaimed Fritz with enthusiasm.
"But, you will see her--some day," he added after a pause. "I vow that
you shall."
"I don't know how that will be," said Madaleine, half laughing in a
constrained fashion, as if wishing to conceal her real feelings. "In a
week or two you will be off to the wars again and forget me--like a true
soldier!"
"Stay," interposed Fritz, interrupting her. "You have no right to say
that! Do you think me so ungrateful? You must have a very bad opinion
of me! I--"
"Never mind explanations now," interrupted the girl in her turn,
speaking hurriedly in a nervous way, although trying to laugh the matter
off as a joke. "If the doctor says you can soon report yourself as fit
for duty, of course you'll have to rejoin your regiment."
"Ah, I wonder where that is now?" said Fritz musingly. "Since our camp
round Metz is broken up, the army will naturally march on farther into
the interior. No matter, there's no good my worrying myself about it.
They'll soon let me know where I've got to go to join them; for, the
powers that be do not allow any shirking of duty in the ranks, from the
highest to the lowest!"
"I saw that here," remarked Madaleine. "The baroness wanted to get her
son to return home with her; but she was told that, if he were allowed
to go he could never come back to the army, as his reputation for
courage would be settled for ever."
"Yes, that would be the case, true enough. Hev would be thought to have
shown the white feather! But, about your movements, Fraulein
Madaleine--the baroness is not going to remain here long, is she?"
"No; she spoke this morning about going away. She said that, as the
siege of Metz was raised, and the greater portion of the wounded men
would be removed to Germany, along with the prisoners of war, she
thought she would go back home--to Darmstadt, that is."
"And there you will stop, I suppose?" asked Fritz.
"Until she has a whim to go somewhere else!" replied Madaleine.
"May I write to you there?"
"I will be glad to hear of your welfare," answered she discreetly, a
slight colour mantling to her cheeks. "Of course, you have been my
patient; and, like a good nurse, I should like to know that you were
getting on well, without any relapse."
"I will write to you, then," said Fritz in those firm, ringing tones of
his that clearly intimated he had made a promise which he intended to
keep. "And you, I hope, will answer my letters?"
"When I can," replied the girl; "that is, you know, if the Baroness
Stolzenkop does not object."
"Bother the Baroness Stolzenkop!" said he energetically, and he
stretched out his hand to her with a smile. "Promise to write to me,"
he repeated.
Madaleine did not say anything; but she returned his smile, and he could
feel a slight pressure of her fingers on his, so with this he was
perfectly contented for the while.
"Ah, when the war is over!" he exclaimed presently, after a moment's
silence between the two, which expressed more than words would have done
perhaps. "Ah, when the war is over!"
"Eh, what?" said the doctor, coming in unexpectedly at that instant and
catching the last words.
"I--I--said," explained Fritz rather confusedly, "that when the war was
over, I'd be glad to get home again to my mother and those dear to me;"
and he looked at Madaleine as he spoke meaningly.
"Eh, what?" repeated the doctor. "But, the war isn't over yet, my
worthy young lieutenant, and I hope we'll patch you up so as to be able
to play a good part in it still for the Fatherland!"
"I hope so, Herr Doctor," answered Fritz. "I've no desire yet to be
laid on the shelf while laurels and promotion are to be won."
"Just so, that is good; and how do you feel this afternoon, eh?"
"Much better."
"Ah yes, so I see! You will go on improving, if you take plenty of
food. I bet that in a week's time I shall be able to turn you out of
these nice quarters here."
So saying, the surgeon bustled out of the room, with a kind nod to his
patient and a bow to Madaleine, who was shortly afterwards summoned by a
servant to the baroness--the footman telling her that her ladyship
requested her presence at once.
She returned later on, but it was only for a very brief interval, to say
good-bye. The Princess of Alten-Schlossen, she said, was about to leave
Mezieres immediately for Germany, and the baroness could not think of
staying behind, even for the charitable consideration of nursing any
more wounded, if the exalted lady, whose actions traced the pattern for
her own conduct, thought fit to go away! Madaleine, therefore, had
orders to pack up all the old dowager's numerous belongings, being also
given permission to make any arrangements she pleased for the poor
fellows who remained in the villa, in order to have them handed over to
the regular authorities, now that this amateur ambulance of the baroness
was going to abandon its voluntary labours.
"It's a shame," said Madaleine indignantly. "It is like putting one's
hand to the plough and then turning back!"
"Never mind, Fraulein, do not fret yourself," interposed Fritz. "The
old lady has done some good by starting this hospital here, even if she
did it in imitation of the Princess; and, although she may now give it
up, it will be carried on all right by others, you see if it won't! As
I am getting well, too, and will have to go, as the doctor says; why, I
shall not regret it as I should otherwise have done."
"Oh, you selfish fellow!" said she, smiling. "Now you have been
attended to and nursed into convalescence, you do not care what becomes
of those who may come after you!"
"Not quite so bad as that," replied Fritz; "only, as I shall be away
serving with my regiment, I should prefer to think of you ensconced in
the quiet security of the baroness' castle on the Rhine, to being here
amidst the excitement of the war and in the very thick of bands of
stragglers to and from the front."
"Especially since I would lose your valuable protection!" laughed
Madaleine.
"Ah, wait till I get up and am strong!" said Fritz. "When you see me
again, I promise to be able to protect you."
"Aye, when!" repeated the girl with a sigh. "However, I must say good-
bye now, Herr Lieutenant I have told our man Hans, whom the baroness
leaves behind, to see that you want for nothing until you shall be able
to attend to yourself. I'm sorry you'll have no female nurse now to
look after you."
"I wouldn't let another woman come near me after you go!" exclaimed
Fritz impulsively. "Mind, you have promised to write to me, you know."
"Yes," said she, "I will answer your letters; and now, good-bye! Don't
forget me quite when you get amongst the gay ladies of Paris, who will
quite eclipse your little German nurse!"
"Never!" he ejaculated. "Good-bye, till we meet again!" and he pressed
her hand to his lips, looking up into her eyes.
"Good-bye!" said she in a husky voice, turning away; when the dog, which
had been lying down in his usual place by his master's bedside, started
up, "Good-bye you, too, my darling `Fritz'!" she added, throwing her
arms round the retriever's neck and kissing his smooth black head; "I
nearly forgot you, dearest doggie, I do declare!"
"Heavens!" exclaimed the other Fritz, mortally jealous of his dog for
the moment, "I wish you would only say farewell to me like that!"
Madaleine blushed a celestial rosy red.
But "Auf wiedersehen!" was all she said, as she left the room with a
speaking glance from her violet eyes; and, towards the evening, from the
confused bustling about which he heard going on within the villa, and
the sound of carriage wheels without driving off, Fritz knew that the
Baroness Stolzenkop and her party--amongst whom, of course, was
Madaleine--had quitted Mezieres, on their way back to the banks of the
Rhine.