Part 1 (1/2)
'Jena' or 'Sedan'?
by Franz Beyerlein.
CHAPTER I
”Must I go, must I go, Away into the town?”
(_Swabian Folk-song._)
Franz Vogt was on his way home. He carried a neatly tied-up parcel containing the under-linen and the boots that he had been buying in the town. He had trodden this same road a countless number of times during his life; but now that he must bid good-bye to it so soon, the old familiar surroundings presented themselves to him in a new light.
Of course it was not good-bye for ever, nor was it even as though he were going to America. At the most he would only be away for his two years of military service, and between-whiles there would, he supposed, be leave now and again; moreover, this was not the first time he had left the village. But there was one circ.u.mstance peculiar to this going away he was obliged to go.
Franz Vogt did not trouble his head much about the why and the wherefore of this obligation. He reasoned it out thus: Germany had enemies--the French and the Russians, to wit--who might some day and for some unknown reason begin a war; therefore, of course, it behoved Germany to keep watch and ward, and for that soldiers were necessary.
Furthermore, there was a certain consolation in the thought that this authoritative call took no respect of persons; the sons of the two richest peasants in the village had been called up just like himself--they to the Uhlans, he to the field-artillery.
The life, however, must be so different from anything hitherto experienced that one could not but feel a little nervous about it. For the men on leave whom he had come across were never tired of talking about the hard words and harder usage that fell to a soldier's lot.
Never mind! hard words break no bones. He was strong and active; no one had done better than he in athletics. One must take things as they come, and perhaps after all they won't turn out as bad as they have been painted.
The young man pushed his hat back from his brow and began to whistle as he stepped forward more briskly.
It was fairly warm for October. The broad dusty road that led onward up the hill lay s.h.i.+ning as brightly in the sun as if it were July and the corn rising on either side, tall and golden. But instead the stubble showed in paler streaks against the darker ground that was already prepared for a new sowing. Further on in the valley green meadows stretched away to the border-line of a forest.
On the hither side of those woods, but disappearing at last in the dense verdure, ran the straight line of the railway. A cloud of white smoke could just be seen above the trees, and then the train would glide out into the open. By that line Franz Vogt must travel on the morrow to the place where he would have to sojourn for the next two years; and again the thought, ”How shall I get on there?” forced itself upon his mind, and absorbed his thoughts until he reached the cross-roads where stood the paternal dwelling. Years ago, when toll was still levied on the highway, it had been the gate-keeper's cottage; and Franz Vogt's father, the last turnpike-keeper, had bought it from the State when the toll was abolished. Nearly twenty years had gone by since the white-painted barrier had been let down at night for the last time, but the little house remained the same in appearance. His father had even stuck the old barrier up in the garden, and had nailed at the top a box for the starlings to nest in; every spring a pair of birds built there.
And his father himself, how little he had altered! Only the beard, which he wore after the fas.h.i.+on of the old Emperor William, had become more and more grey, and the hair of his head had retreated from the crown in an ever-widening circle.
But the old man who now stepped to the door held himself as stiff and erect as ever; the eyes looked forth from beneath the bushy eyebrows with a stern yet kindly gaze, and the deep voice rang out with military precision and sharpness.
”Why, boy,” he cried, ”you're looking quite dashed! Shaking in your shoes about to-morrow, eh? See what comes of having a woman for your mother! Come along in.” He preceded his son into the parlour, and made him exhibit his purchases.
”Dear, very dear, all these odds and ends!” he grumbled; but finally declared himself pleased that Franz had preserved intact a good portion of the money entrusted to him.
”That you can keep,” said his father; ”for you know at first you'll have nothing more from me. By-and-bye, perhaps, a few groschen now and then; but first you must learn to s.h.i.+ft for yourself. That's always good for one. I had to get along on my pay the whole time, from the first year to the fifteenth. Now go up and pack your traps, and make everything s.h.i.+p-shape.”
At supper the fare was no more sumptuous than usual; but Franz was surprised to see that his father had set out two smoked sausages instead of one.
”To-morrow, boy,” said the old man, ”you'll have regimental black bread. Good nouris.h.i.+ng stuff! You'll soon like it.” And pointing to the two long fat sausages, he continued:
”And the remains of those sausages can go in your box. You shall pack them up.”
The two men ate off wooden platters, and cut up their bread and sausage with their pocket-knives; there was nothing to do afterwards but to gather up the fragments and carry the plates into the kitchen.
An old woman came every morning to do the housework and prepare the midday meal, and every afternoon the turnpike keeper waited with repressed impatience till the door had closed behind her. Then he felt better.
When Franz had put the sausage in his box and come downstairs again, he found his father with cap in hand, ready to go out.
”Come, boy,” he said, ”let's stretch our legs a bit.”
They went past the village, and wandered for a while in silence under the starry heavens. Then the old man began to speak less briskly and decidedly than was his wont.