Part 39 (1/2)

”That no one can tell,” answered the surgeon. ”I hardly think so.”

”But I may stay with him?”

”Yes, certainly. You are quartered here for to-night. You yourself are invalided in any case, and to-morrow your friend will not last till then, I fear, probably not even till this evening. So pull yourself together, my man, and be proud that you have had such a brave fellow for a friend. Friends.h.i.+p even unto death! There are not many like that nowadays. G.o.d knows, I wish we could help the poor fellow!”

Andreae was quite affected by the unusual circ.u.mstances of the case; but he had other duties, and dared not indulge his feelings. He drew himself up, and continued in firm tones: ”We must dress your wound for you too, Vogt; but first I ought to set the driver's leg.”

”We must go,” he said, turning to the others; ”the gunner will remain with his comrade for the present.”

Vogt followed the doctor with his eyes. When the door closed he turned them towards the pale face of his dear friend. It was true then?

Klitzing had given his life for him. And no one could do anything to help. There was a hot sensation in his throat, and then at last his sorrow found relief in a flood of tears.

After a time he looked again at his friend. How white he looked as he lay there! And how thin the face appeared against the white sheet!

Klitzing had indeed refined, distinguished-looking features, and one could easily take him for a real gentleman lying in that magnificent bed, if the shabby dust-covered uniform were not hanging over the back of the chair close by. Vogt remembered how he had sometimes teased his friend about his sickly pallor; he racked his brains to think whether he had not wounded his feelings in other ways, and reproached himself for every harsh word he could remember using towards Klitzing. How much more friendly and affectionate he might often have been!

The doctors left the castle at last, having given the hospital-orderly the necessary instructions to carry out during their absence. As Rademacher was the medical officer on duty, he went the rounds once more before leaving; and Vogt, whose head had been re-bandaged and who had scarcely thought of meat and drink, now took some milk-soup at his desire.

Nerve-exhaustion and loss of blood soon made themselves felt.

Ensconcing himself on a hard sofa that stood at the head of Klitzing's bed, he fell into a heavy sleep.

The sound of voices roused him. He opened his eyes, and it was a considerable time before he realised where he was. Again the voices spoke. A conversation was evidently going on in the garden outside between two people, a man and a woman. Vogt went to the window and looked out. Close to the wall of the house vegetables had been planted.

A bearded man was digging the beds with a spade; the old woman was a.s.sisting him by breaking up the clods of earth with a hoe.

”But I can't understand, mother,” said the man, ”why you gave him the Princes' Room.”

The old woman stopped her work for a moment and leant upon the handle of her hoe. Then in her quiet monotonous voice she replied: ”They told me he would soon die, and the dead are the greatest kings on earth.

They are free. They have no more desires, no more cares. No one can help or harm them any more.”

The son said nothing, and both worked on busily.

Without thinking what he was doing Vogt watched them for a time at their digging and hoeing, and when he turned back into the room the heavy atmosphere of the long unventilated apartment gave him a momentary sense of oppression.

But in the meantime something had happened, something that made him suddenly stand still, speechless. Klitzing had awakened.

The sick man had moved his head to one side; his eyes were wide open, and he was looking through the long window. His gaze wandered till it rested on his friend, and apparently recognising him brightened with intense pleasure; then it returned to the picture framed by the window.

Undazzled, his eyes looked out upon the radiance of the setting sun, already half below the horizon. The face of the dying man was lighted up by quiet happiness. He stood on the threshold of Paradise, and seemed already to behold it in that fair vision of distant landscape bathed in the departing glow of daylight. The sun's rays kissed the eyes of the dying man, and he appeared to live but by their light. He gazed fixedly on the vanis.h.i.+ng disk until it sank out of sight. When he could see it no longer an expression of fear pa.s.sed over his countenance, as though he dreaded the darkness and sought something that had disappeared from view.

Then he closed his eyes, and found Paradise.

CHAPTER XI

”Reservists they may rest, Reservists may rest, And if reservists rest may have, Then may reservists rest.”

(_Song of the Reserve._)

Thursday, September 19th, four P.M., was fixed for the funeral of Gunner Heinrich Karl Klitzing, ”accidentally killed on September 16th, and to be buried in the nearest convenient churchyard.” The order ended with the words; ”The cost of the funeral shall be provisionally defrayed by the regiment.”