Chapter XIV: Farewell!

The afternoon passed in hasty preparations for the departure of the two soldiers; at last all was arranged, and with the early twilight, Frederic, ready for the journey, betook himself to the doctor and his wife, to say good-by. The poor fellow looked very melancholy; around his broad mouth was a quiver of pain: it was with great difficulty he kept back his tears. Neither the heavy package of money the doctor handed him nor the promise of the doctor's wife to care for him in the field, could console him.

"For shame, Frederic!" said Doctor Stephen, chidingly. "Is that the way to go to war? With such a sorrowful mien, with tearful eyes? I should have believed you had more courage."

Frederic, deeply wounded, wiped the tears from his eyes, and at length, comprehending the full meaning of the reproach, he cried excitedly:

"Do you think, Herr Doctor, that I am afraid? It is a real delight to me to take the musket on my shoulder, and go to war. But my poor master! This is going to cost him his life, even before he meets the enemy."

"Well, that is by no means certain," said the doctor, while Frau Stephen, who was entirely of Frederic's opinion, pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. "Perhaps he will hold out better than we all think. I tell you once more, he is not so very ill as you imagine, and this soldier-life will tear him away from his studies, which, in any event, is a fortunate thing."

"He will not endure it," persisted Frederic with a mournful shake of the head; "he certainly will not endure it! At the very first march, he will lie in the hospital; and if I am not with him to take care of him, he will surely die. And for all this"--here that fearful, bearish nature, so deplored by Mr. Atkins, broke forth anew in Frederic,--"and for all this, those accursed Frenchmen are guilty,--I--I am going to kill a dozen at least for it!"

"Well, well; wait until you are in France!" cried the doctor, retreating from the furious pantomime Frederic enacted after these words. "You certainly will have to wait before you can offer such a propitiatory sacrifice to the manes of your master. So far as I know, he has served his year in the volunteer army, and he still remains alive."

"That was ten years ago," replied Frederic, still more despairingly. "At that time he was much stronger and more healthy than I, and still he lay for some time in the hospital. Well, there is no help for it now! Good-by, Herr Doctor, good-by, Frau Doctorin!" he cordially stretched out both huge hands, and in spite of his efforts to keep them back, tears streamed down his cheeks. "You have been very kind to me during these last three years; when I return I will try to repay you; if _I_ cannot--may God reward you!"

So saying, he pressed, and shook with a giant's strength, the proffered hands, accepted another caution and some further words of good advice, waved his cap, and trotted down the steps after his master, who had already taken leave of the married pair, and had gone for a few moments into the garden.

The professor stood at the farther end of the garden, leaning against the latticed gate, and gazed fixedly and dreamily upon the now dry portion of the hedge-way which separated it from the river rushing past. The sun had already set, the last beams of the twilight were fading away, and the first stars faintly glimmered in the sky. Between the trees and shrubbery, dusky shadows already lay, and the cool breath of the night enveloped all. From above came the light rustle and murmur of the waves, the dear old familiar Rhine voices whispered to him their parting salutation. Whether it was a parting from home, or from life as well--it was the last he had to expect.

There was all at once a rustle from another direction, but more distinct, more violent, as a woman's silk dress crossed the path. Thrilled by a presentiment, Fernow turned around. Before him stood Jane, pale as death, her glance fixed upon the ground, her hands firmly clasped, and with an expression as if, just now, the most terrible thing in her whole life had happened. Her breast rose and fell convulsively; her lips quivered; she could not control them, and at last they opened for these momentous words: "I--I beg your forgiveness!"

"Miss Forest! Johanna!" cried Fernow, with uncontrollable emotion; but she had already turned, and like a hunted creature, fled down the path. He was about to rush after her, when Frederic's loud voice echoed through the garden.

"Herr Professor, we must go! Herr Professor, where are you? We haven't a moment to lose."

"Must we go? This very instant!" The new duty was demanding its first heavy sacrifice; a moment of struggle, and then all was over.

"I am coming!" he replied in a firm voice! He hastened to the house. Under the vine-wreathed balcony it was growing dark already, but the outlines of a delicate form were visible, only half concealed by the foliage. For a moment the professor's feet lingered, only one, and ardent and deep-toned the parting word at last wrung from him up to her:

"_Farewell!_"