Lay Down Your Arms 51

Lay Down Your Arms 51

When I came to my senses again, I found myself in a railway carriage in

motion. Opposite me sat Dr. Bresser. When he perceived that I had opened

my eyes, and was looking about me astonished and questioning, he took my

hand.

 

“Yes, yes, Lady Martha,” he said, “this is a second-class carriage. You

are not dreaming. You are here in company with a slightly wounded

officer and your friend Bresser, and we are on our way to Vienna.”

 

So it was. The doctor had brought a detachment of wounded from Horonewos

to Königinhof, and from thence another detachment had been given into

his charge to transport to Vienna. Me, in my fainting state, fainting in

both senses of the word, he had taken with him and was bringing home. I

had shown myself to be entirely useless and incapable in those abodes of

misery, only a hindrance and a burden. Frau Simon was very glad when Dr.

Bresser got me out of the way. And I was obliged to allow that it was

better so. But Frederick? I had not found him. Thank God that I had not

found him, for then all hope was not dead, and if I had been obliged to

recognise my beloved husband among those shapes of woe, I should have

gone mad. Perhaps I should find at home a letter for me from my

Frederick! This hope, no, it would be too much to say “hope,” but the

thought of this bare possibility poured balm into my wounded soul. Yes,

wounded. I felt my inmost soul wounded. The gigantic woe which I had

seen had cut so deep into my own heart that I felt as if it would never

be healed again completely. Even if I were to find my Frederick again,

even if a long future of brilliancy and love were granted me, could I

ever forget that so many others of my poor human brothers and sisters

had had to bear such unspeakable misery? And must go on bearing it till

they come to see that this misery is no fatality but a crime.

 

I slept almost the whole way. Dr. Bresser had given me a slight

narcotic, so that a longer and sounder sleep might to some extent calm

my nerves, which had been so shattered by the occurrences at Horonewos.

 

When we arrived at the Vienna station, my father was already there to

take me away. Dr. Bresser, who thought of everything, had telegraphed to

Grumitz. It was not possible for him himself to see me there, for he had

his wounded to see into the hospital, and wished then to return to

Bohemia without delay.

 

My father embraced me in silence, and I also did not find a word to say.

Then he turned to Dr. Bresser.

 

“How can I thank you? If you had not taken this little crazy thing under

your protection----”

 

But the doctor pressed our hands hastily.

 

“I must go,” he said. “I have duty to do. May you get home safely. The

young lady wants forbearance, your excellency. She has had a terrible

shaking. No reproaches, no questioning. Get her quick to bed.

Orange-flower water--rest. Good-bye.” And he was gone.

 

My father put my arm in his and led me through the crowd to the exit.

There again a long row of ambulance waggons was standing. We had to go

some distance on foot till we could get to the place where our carriage

was waiting.

 

The question: “Has any news of Frederick come during this while?” rose

several times to my lips, but I could not find courage to give voice to

it. At last, when we had driven some distance, while my father kept

silence all the way, I brought it out.

 

“Not up to yesterday,” was the reply. “It is possible that we may find

news to-day. It was, of course, yesterday, immediately after the receipt

of the telegram, that I left for the city. Oh, what a fright you have

given us, you silly creature! To go to the battlefields, where you might

meet the most cruel enemies, for these folks are just like savages. They

are perfectly intoxicated with the victories of their needle-rifle, and

all; they are no disciplined soldiers, these landwehr fellows; from such

men you may be sure of the worst outrages, and you--a lady--to run into

the midst of them--you---- However, the doctor just now ordered me not

to scold you.”

 

“How is my son Rudolf?”

 

“He is crying and moaning about you, seeking you all over the house,

will not believe that you could have gone away without giving him a

parting kiss. And do not you ask after the rest? Lilly, Rosa, Otto, Aunt

Mary? You seem to me altogether so indifferent.”

 

“How are they all? Has Conrad written?”

 

“They are all well. A letter arrived yesterday from Conrad. Nothing has

happened to him. Lilly is happy. You will see that good news will very

soon arrive about Tilling too. Unfortunately there is nothing good to be

hoped in a political point of view. You have surely heard of the great

calamity?”

 

“Which? In the present state of things I have seen nothing but great

calamities.”

 

“I mean Venice. Our beautiful Venice given away--made a present of to

that intriguer Louis Napoleon, and that after such a brilliant victory

as we won at Custozza! Instead of getting back our Lombardy to give up

our Venice as well! It is true that by this means we get free from our

enemies in the South, have Louis Napoleon too on our side, and can now

with our whole force take our revenge for Sadowa, chase the Prussians

out of our country, follow them up and gain Silesia for ourselves.

Benedek has committed great mistakes, but now the chief command will be

put into the hand of the glorious commander of the Army of the South.

But you make no reply? Well, then, I will follow Bresser’s prescription

and give you repose.”

 

After a drive of two hours we arrived at Grumitz.

 

As our carriage drove into the court of the château my sisters ran out

to meet me.

 

“Martha! Martha!” both of them shouted from a distance. “He is there.”

 

And again at the carriage door: “He is there”.

 

“Who?”

 

“Frederick, your husband.”

 

* * * * *

 

Yes, so it was. It was the day before, late in the evening, that

Frederick had been brought with a consignment of wounded from Bohemia to

Vienna and from thence here. He had received a bullet in his leg, a

wound which rendered him for the moment unfit for service and in need of

nursing, but was entirely free from danger.

 

But joy is also hard to bear. The news then shouted to me by my sisters,

so entirely without preparation, that “Frederick was there,” had just

the same effect as the terror of the past days--it deprived me of

consciousness.

 

They were obliged to carry me from the carriage into the château, and

put me to bed. Here, whether from the after-effect of the narcotic, or

the violence of the shock of joy, I spent several hours in

unconsciousness, sometimes slumbering, sometimes delirious. When I came

to myself and found myself in my own bed I believed myself to have awoke

from a dreadful dream, and thought I had never left Grumitz. Bresser’s

letter, my resolution to start for Bohemia, my experiences there, the

homeward journey, the news of Frederick’s return home--all was a dream.

 

I looked up. My _femme de chambre_ was standing at the foot of the bed.

“Is my bath ready?” I asked. “I want to get up.”

 

Now Aunt Mary rushed forward out of a corner of the room.

 

“Oh Martha! poor dear, are you at last awake and restored to your

senses? God be praised. Yes, yes; get up and take your bath. That will

do you good, when one is covered, as you are, with the dust of the roads

and railways.”

 

“Dust from railways; what do you mean?”

 

“Quick; get up. Netty, get everything ready. Frederick is almost dying

with impatience to see you.”

 

“Frederick--my Frederick?”

 

How often had I during these last days called out this name, and with

what pain! But now it was a cry of joy--for now I had comprehended. It

was no dream. I had been away and come back again, and was to see my

husband.

 

A quarter of an hour afterwards I went into his room, alone. I had

requested that no one should go with me. No third person should be

present at our meeting.

 

“Frederick!” “Martha!” I rushed to the couch on which he lay and sobbed

on his bosom.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII.

 

_My delight in the restoration of my husband.--The war practically

at an end: but the Prussians continue their advance on Vienna--Life

at Grumitz.--Military education.--My brother Otto.--Description of

the flight of a routed corps.--Peace imminent.--Victory of

Lyssa.--Plans for the future.--Conrad’s return.--The soldier’s

delight in war._

 

 

This was the second time in my life that my beloved husband had been

restored to me from the dangers of war.