ed. Corpse lay
beside corpse. Wherever Ruth set her foot, it touched some fallen
soldier. Dread, horror and loathing threatened to deprive her of
consciousness; but the ardent longing, the one last hope of her soul
sustained her, steeled her energy, sharpened her sight.

They had reached the centre of the rampart, when she saw in the distance
a tall figure stretched at full length.

That, yes, that was he!

Snatching the lantern from the lansquenet's hand, she rushed to the
prostrate form, threw herself on her knees beside it, and cast the light
upon the face.

What had she seen?

Why did the shriek she uttered sound so agonized? The men were
approaching, but Ruth knew that there was something else to be done,
besides weeping and wailing.

She pressed her ear close to the mailed breast to listen, and when she
heard no breath, hurriedly unfastened the clasps and buckles that
confined the armor.

The cuirass fell rattling on the ground, and now--no, there was no
deception, the wounded man's chest rose under her ear, she heard the
faint throbbing of his heart, the feeble flutter of a gasping breach.

Bursting into loud, convulsive weeping, she raised his head and pressed
it to her bosom.

"He is dead; I thought so!" said the lansquenet, and Adam sank on his
knees before his wounded son. But Ruth's sobs now changed to low, joyous,
musical laughter, which echoed in her voice as she exclaimed: "Ulrich
breathes, he lives! Oh, God! oh, God! how we thank Thee!"

Then--was she deceived, could it be? She heard the inflexible man beside
her sob, saw him bend over Ulrich, listen to the beating of his heart,
and press his bearded lips first to his temples, then on the hand he had
so harshly rejected.

Hans Eitelfritz warned them to hasten, carried the senseless man, with
Adam's assistance, to the cart, and half an hour later the dangerously
wounded, outcast son was lying in the most comfortable bed in the best
room in his father's house. His couch was in the upper story; down in the
kitchen old Rahel was moving about the hearth, preparing her "good salve"
herself. While thus engaged she often chuckled aloud, murmuring "Ulrich,"
and while mixing and stirring the mixture could not keep her old feet
still; it almost seemed as if she wanted to dance.

Hans Eitelfritz promised Adam to tell no one what had become of his son,
and then returned to his men. The next morning the mutineers from Aalst
sought their fallen leader;