or himself and his children, if the
great sorrows that had come upon them, and which might come again,
could be buried with him.

He then groaned aloud, saying, "I do not want to die before their
eyes."

I saw before me a life that had been most cruelly broken. The Baron had
once been in the Austrian army. He had never expected to find himself
at the head of his family, for he belonged to the younger branch.

In Bohemia he made the acquaintance of a girl belonging to a noble
family, and was subdued by her.

Feodora was tall and majestic, of a warm, sensual nature, but
cold-hearted. Persuaded by his sister, he became engaged to her; but
felt that he would have to stand alone in life, with her as his spouse.

On the day after his engagement, he suddenly awoke to a horror of what
he had done. He was visiting the large estate of her father. He walked
through the park, wrestling with the resolve to drown himself in the
pond; but he did not do so, because he considered it his duty to keep
his plighted word; and besides, the hope arose in his breast that, at
some future time, a closer sympathy would be brought about. Her beauty
fettered him; in short, the marriage was celebrated, and he lived for
thirty-one years married, but lonely. One by one, his hopes had all
been shattered. He had persuaded himself that congeniality was not
necessary to happiness.

But after awhile he discovered what it was to be united to some one,
and at the same time to be alone. The sudden death of the last of the
main line of his family placed him at the head of the house. He
resigned his position in the army, and devoted himself to agriculture.
He had no control over his children--scarcely any influence in fact,
but as his sons grew up, they espoused the cause of Germany, and would
have nothing to do with the conflict which their mother and her ghostly
advisers tried to stir up.

In the campaign of 1866, the Baron suffered unspeakably. He was
homeless in his own house. But when the present war began, and he
discovered plots that he would never have suspected, the conflict broke
out openly. The two sons joined the German army, and did not, or would
not, know of what was going on at home. I dare not speak of the
bitterness, hate, and despair that filled the soul of this naturally
good-hearted man, and appeared in the course of his story. "I had to
confess to you some time," said he finally, "and I chose the best time.

"I believe that your w