Part 14 (1/2)
The street was now full of straw and hay, thrown out from the lofts; there was no wind, and the snow had stopped falling. In a little while the shouts and proclamations ceased.
Sorle hastened to serve up the remains of our breakfast, with a bottle of wine; and Baruch, while he was eating, told us that there was a panic in Alsace, that the Austrians had turned Basle, and were advancing by forced marches upon Schlestadt, Neuf Brisach, and Strasburg, after having surrounded Huninguen.
”Everybody is escaping,” said he. ”They are fleeing to the mountain, taking their valuables on their carts, and driving their cattle into the woods. There is a rumor already that bands of Cossacks have been seen at Mutzig, but that is hardly possible, as the army of Marshal Victor is on the Upper Rhine, and dragoons are pa.s.sing every day to join him. How could they pa.s.s his lines without giving battle?”
We were listening very attentively to these things when the sergeant came in. He was just off duty, and stood outside of the door, looking at us with astonishment.
I took Zeffen by the hand, and said: ”Sergeant, this is my daughter, this is my son-in-law, and these are my grandchildren, about whom I have told you. They know you, for I have told them in my letters how much we think of you.”
The sergeant looked at Zeffen.--”Father Moses,” said he, ”you have a handsome daughter, and your son-in-law looks like a worthy man.”
Then he took little Esdras from Zeffen's arms, and lifted him up, and made a face at him, at which the child laughed, and everybody was pleased. The other little one opened his eyes wide and looked on.
”My children have come to stay with me,” I said to the sergeant; ”you will excuse them if they make a little noise in the house?”
”How! Father Moses,” he exclaimed. ”I will excuse everything! Do not be concerned; are we not old friends?”
And at once, in spite of all we could say, he chose another room looking upon the court.
”All the nestful ought to be together,” said he. ”I am the friend of the family, the old sergeant, who will not trouble anybody, provided they are willing to see him here.”
I was so much moved that I gave him both my hands.
”It was a happy day when you entered my house,” said I. ”The Lord be thanked for it!”
He laughed, and said: ”Come now, Father Moses; come! Have I done anything more than was natural? Why do you wonder at it?”
He went at once to get his things and carry them to his new room; and then went away, so as not to disturb us.
How we are mistaken! This sergeant, whom Frichard had sent to plague us, at the end of a fortnight was one of our family; he consulted our comfort in everything--and, notwithstanding all the years that have pa.s.sed since then, I cannot think of that good man without emotion.
When we were alone, Baruch told us that he could not stay at Phalsburg; that he had come to bring his family, with everything that he could provide for them in the first hurried moments; but that, in the midst of such dangers, when the enemy could not long delay coming, his duty was to guard his house, and prevent, as much as possible, the pillage of his goods.
This seemed right, though it made us none the less grieved to have him go. We thought of the pain of living apart from each other; of hearing no tidings; of being all the time uncertain about the fate of our beloved ones! Meanwhile we were all busy. Sorle and Zeffen prepared the children's bed; Baruch took out the provisions which he had brought; Safel played with the two little ones, and I went and came, thinking about our troubles.
At last, when the best room was ready for Zeffen and the children, as the German gate was already shut, and the French gate would be open only until two o'clock at the latest, for strangers to leave the city, Baruch exclaimed: ”Zeffen, the moment has come!”
He had scarcely said the words when the great agony began--cries, embraces, and tears!
Ah! it is a great joy to be loved, the only true joy of life. But what sorrow to be separated! And how our family loved each other! How Zeffen and Baruch embraced one another! How they leaned over their little ones, how they looked at them, and began to sob again!
What can be said at such a moment? I sat by the window, with my hands before my face, without strength to speak. I thought to myself: ”My G.o.d, must it be that a single man shall hold in his hands the fate of us all! Must it be that, for his pleasure, for the gratification of his pride, everything shall be confounded, overturned, torn asunder!
My G.o.d, shall these troubles never end? Hast thou no pity on thy poor creatures?”
I did not raise my eyes, but I heard the lamentations which rent my heart, and which lasted till the moment when Baruch, perceiving that Zeffen was quite exhausted, ran out, exclaiming: ”It must be! It must be! Adieu, Zeffen! Adieu, my children! Adieu, all!”
No one followed him.
We heard the carriage roll away, and then was the great sorrow--that sorrow of which it is written: