frederick the great and his family-第95部分
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triumph。 〃So shall all the Teresiani perish！〃
The battle waxed hotter and fiercer； the air was thick with missiles。
〃They will murder each other！〃 cried the prior； turning to the Baron Cocceji。
〃Not so； your worship； there will only be a few blue swellings and bleeding nosesnothing more；〃 said Cocceji； laughing。
〃Ah； you laugh young man； you laugh at this sad spectacle！〃
〃Forgive me； your worship； but I swear to you； I have never seen warriors more eager in the fray； and I have never been more curious to witness the result of any battle。〃
〃But you shall not witness it；〃 said the prior； resolutely。 〃You shall no longer be a spectator of the unworthy and shameful conduct of my monks。 I pray you to withdraw instantly； in a few hours I will send you the letters； and if you believe that I have rendered you the least service； I ask in return that you will tell no one what you have seen。〃
〃I promise； your worship；〃 said Cocceji； with forced gravity。 〃If the people without shall ask me what all this tumult means； I will say that the pious fathers in the cloister are singing their 'floras。'〃 ＇Footnote： Baron Cocceji did not keep his word； as this whole scene is historic。＇
Baron Cocceji bowed to the prior； and returned with gay and hopeful thoughts to the hotel of the 〃White Lion。〃
A few hours later； a monk appeared and desired to speak with the stranger about the holy relics。
Cocceji recognized in him the worthy Father Anselmo； the victor over the father guardian。
〃Will you do me a great pleasure； worthy father？〃 said he。 〃Tell me which party remained in possession of the field after your great battle。〃
An expression of triumphant joy flashed in Father Anselmo's eyes。
〃The Prussiani were victorious； and I think the Teresiani will never dare to recommence the strife； four of their monks lie in their cells with broken noses； and it will be some weeks before the father guardian will be capable of performing his duties as spy； he is sore and stiff； and his mouth is poorer by a few teeth。 May all the enemies of the great Frederick share his fate！ May God bless the King of Prussia and be gracious to his friends！〃
He greeted the baron with the sign of the cross； and withdrew。
The baron remembered the warning of the prior； and hastened quietly from Venice。 Already the next morning he was on the highway to Turin。 ＇Footnote： This diplomatic mission failed； because of the faint heart of the King of Sardinia。 He rejected the bold propositions of Frederick entirely； and said； in justification of himself； that since the alliance between the powers of France and Austria； he had his head between a pair of tongs； which were ever threatening to close and crush him。 Baron Cocceji was not more fortunate in Naples； and after many vain efforts he was forced to return home； having accomplished nothing。Duten's 〃Memoirs of a Traveller。〃＇
CHAPTER IV。
THE RETURN FROM THE ARMY。
It was a sunny； summer day…one of those days which incline the heart to prayer； and bring tears of happiness to the eyes。 There are no such days in cities； if we would enjoy them we must go into the countrywe must seek them in peaceful valleys； in fragrant forests； where the silence is unbroken； except by the fluttering leaves and the singing of birds。 We must understand the eloquent silence of Nature in order to enjoy the holy Sabbath quiet of a summer day； and we must be able to hear the language which the flowers breathe forth； to understand the sighing of the wind； and the rustling of the trees。
Very few can do this； but few would care for it。 God has not opened the eyes of the hearts of many of us to this extent； these things are hidden by a thick veil from the many； they cannot see the heavenly beauty of Naturethey do not understand the fairy tale which she is ever telling。 This is gentle； idyllic； fairy lore； unsought by the learned。 It whispers of roses； of dancing elves； of weeping clouds； of dreaming violets。
Happy are those who listen to these fables； who are not called by the necessities of life to hear the roar of cannonto find all these sweet and holy songs overpowered by the noise of war； the horrors of bloodshed！
War； destructive war； still held a lighted torch over unhappy Germany； cities and villages were in ruinseven the peace of Nature was destroyed。 The valleys； usually so quiet； now often resounded with the roar of cannon。 The fields remained uncultivated； the meadows uncared for； there were no strong hands to work。 The men and youths were gone； only the old graybeards and the women were in the villages； and the work advanced but slowly under their trembling hands。 Unhappiness and want； care and sorrow were in the land。
Even in the once peaceful and happy village of Brunen on the Rhine； misery had made itself felt。 Grief and anguish dwelt with the bereaved mothers； with the forsaken brides； and the weak old men； with the useless cripples； who had returned from the war； and who spent their time in relating the dangers through which they had passed； in telling of the sons； the brothers； the husbands； and the fathers of those who listened to their talesthose dear ones who were； perhaps； now stretched upon the battle…field。
But on this bright day no one in the village gave a thought to the beauties of Nature； for a new misfortune weighed heavily upon the hearts of the unhappy inhabitants。 They were no longer the subjects of the hero…king； who was so worshipped by all； under whose colors their fathers and sons still fought。 The French army； led by the Duke de Broglie and the Count de St Germain； had taken possession of all that part of the country； and held it in the name of their king。 It was declared a French province； and the inhabitants； helpless and forsaken； were compelled to acknowledge the French as their masters； and to meet the taxes which were imposed upon them。
It was a most bitter necessity； and no one felt it more deeply than the old shepherd Buschman； the father of Charles Henry。 He sat； as we first saw him； on the slope of the field where his flock was grazing； guarded and kept in order by the faithful Phylax。
His eye was not clear and bright as then； but troubled and sorrowful； and his countenance bore an expression of the deepest grief。 He had no one to whom he could pour forth his sorrowsno one to comfort himhe was quite alone Even his youngest son； Charles Henry； the real Charles Henry； had been compelled to leave him。 The recruiting officers of the king had come a short time before the French troops had taken possession of the province； and had conscripted the few strong men who were still left in the village of Brunen。
But this time the men of Brunen had not answered joyfully to the demand。 Even old Buschman had wished to keep his son Charles Henry with him。 Had he not sent six sons to the field of battle； and had they not all died as heroes？ Charles Henry was his last treasure； his one remaining child； his grief…torn heart clung to him with the deepest devotion。 To be parted from him seemed more bitter than death itself。 When the recruiting officer came into the hut of Buschman and summoned Charles Henry to follow him as a soldier； the eyes of the old man filled with tears； and he laid his hands upon the arm of his son as if he feared to see him instantly torn from his sight。
〃Captain〃 he said； with a trembling voice； 〃I have sent the king six sons already； they have all died in his service。 Tell me truly； is the king in great need？ If so； take me as well as my sonif not； leave me my son。〃
The officer smiled； and extended his hand to the old man。 〃Keep your son；〃 he said。 〃If you have lost six sons in the war； it is right that you should keep the seventh。〃
Buschman uttered a cry of joy； and would have embraced his son； but Charles Henry pushed him gently back； and his father read in his countenance a determination and energy that he had rarely seen there。
〃No； father；〃 he said； 〃let me golet me be a soldier as my brothers were。 I should have gone four years ago； when I was prevented； and Anna SophiaAh； let me be a soldier； father；〃 he said； interrupting himself。 〃All the young men of the village are going； and I am ashamed to remain at home。〃
The old man bent his head sadly。 〃Go then； my son；〃 he said； 〃God's blessing rest upon you！〃
Thus Charles Henry went； not from a feeling of enthusiasm for the life of a soldiernot from love to his kingbut merely because he was ashamed to remain at home。
He had now been absent several months； and his father had not heard from him。 But the news of the lately lost battle had reached the village； and it was said that the Prince Royal of Brunswick； in whose corps Charles Henry was； had been defeated。 The old shepherd remembered this as he sat in the meadow this bright summer morning。 His thoughts were with his distant son； and when he raised his eyes to heaven it was not to admire its dazzling blue； or its immeasurable depth； but to pray to the Almighty to spare his son。 The peaceful tranquillity of Nature alarmed the old manshe speaks alone to those who have an ear attuned to her voiceshe says nothing to those who listen with a divided heart。 Buschman could endure it no longer； he arose and started toward the village。 He longed to see some human beingto encounter some look of loveto receive sympathy from some one who understood his grief； who suffered as he did； and who did not wear the eternal smile that Nature wore。
He went to the village； therefore； and left the care of his flock to Phylax。 It comforted his heart as he passed through the principal street of Brunen and received kind greetings from every hut he passed。 He felt consoled and almost happy when here and there the peasants hurried toward him as he passed their huts； and begged him to come in and join them at their simple mid…day meal； and were quite hurt when he refused because his own dinner was prepared for him at home。 These men loved himthey pitied his lonelinessthey told him of their own cares； their own fearsand as he endeavored to console and encourage them； he felt his strength increasehe was more hopeful； more able to bear whatever God might send。
〃We must be united in love；〃 said Buschman； 〃we will help each other to bear the sorrows that may come
