stepped into his
place, and he also fell. Then Ernst took command, and marched along by
the drummer. Bang! then the drummer was shot. Ernst unloosened the drum
from his body, and drummed for us. He beat a powerful flourish, and
cried out, 'Give it to them!' Then there came a shell, and I lay on the
ground and saw nothing more. When I came to myself, I still heard
drumming. But all at once there was a report, a cry--and the drumming
ceased."

Martella tore up the wreath; but she quickly seized the grasses and
flowers and held them with a convulsive grasp.

"Away! away! we must find him!" she exclaimed. "We must find him! He is
living!"

Ikwarte and Wolfgang hastened with the wounded man into a neighboring
house. Not far off, a wagon stopped. They returned with it, and
Wolfgang and Martella sat in it with me. So we drove on through the
entire night. Ikwarte knew where the miller's son was sheltered. We
were silent; only Martella murmured to herself, "Keep up, Ernst; keep
up! We are coming! Oh! mother in heaven, look down upon him!"

We were obliged to get out--the road crossed the fields. I went a
little distance, but could go no farther. Both of the faithful servants
begged that Wolfgang would stay with me. We sat down by the roadside,
and noticed a moving object quite near us. It was a wounded horse, that
raised its head, and then, with a rattle in its throat, fell back dead.

We heard Martella, across the field, calling, "Ernst! Ernst! my Ernst!
where are you! Ernst! we are here, your father and I!" Then we heard
nothing more.

A chill seized me. The ground was damp, and Wolfgang insisted that I
should sit upon the dead horse, whose body was still warm. We quietly
waited. In the heavens the clouds were scudding by, and here and there
the stars sparkled. In the village a clock commenced striking. Wolfgang
counted aloud: it struck eleven.

Now some one approached; my name was called. It was Ikwarte.

"We have found him," he joyfully exclaimed. "Come quickly!"

"Is he living?"

"Yes."

Accompanied by Ikwarte and Wolfgang, I went along. Oh! I cannot tell
the horrors I then saw and heard.

"There, by the torch, there he is!"

My knees shook under me. Then a man came again towards us, and cried
out, "Grandfather, come! There is yet time!"

It was my grandson, the vicar. We reached the place. There lay Martella
on the ground bending over a figure. Rothfuss stood by her with the
torch, and Martella cried, "E