The General, to whom the last words were addressed, looked straight before him, evidently some chord in his heart was sympathetically touched; the President had put on his glasses, which he had not used the whole evening; the ladies hardly turned their eyes from the man who was speaking so honestly and straightforwardly; the Count saw and noted all, and his dislike to the man increased with every word that came from his mouth; he must silence this odious chatterer.
“I confess,” said he, “if there was nothing further involved than that the gentlemen who speculate in sugar and cotton, or who carry away our labourers, should put their gains more comfortably into their pockets, I should regret the noble blood that has been shed upon so many battlefields.”
“I did not say that there was nothing else involved,” answered Reinhold.
“No doubt,” continued the Count, appearing not to notice this interruption, “it is a good thing to be out of range of the firing; and one can sun oneself comfortably in the honour and glory which others have won for us.”
The General frowned, the President dropped his glasses, the young ladies exchanged terrified glances.
“I do not doubt,” said Reinhold, “that Count Golm earned his full share of German fame; for my part I am well content with the honour of having been not out of range of the firing.”
“Where were you on , Captain Schmidt?”
“At Gravelotte, Count Golm.”
The General raised his eyebrows, the President replaced his glasses, the young ladies again exchanged glances—Elsa this time in joyful surprise, while Meta very nearly laughed outright at the Count’s confused look.
“That is to say,” said Reinhold, the blood rising in his cheek at the attention which his rash speech had roused, and turning to the General, “to speak precisely, on the morning of that day I was on the march from Rezonville to St. Marie. Then, when it appeared, as you know, General, that the enemy was not in retreat upon the northern road, and the second army corps had completed the great flank movement to the right upon Verneville and Amanvilliers, we—the eighteenth division—came under fire near Verneville, about half an hour before midday. As you will remember, General, our division had the honour of commencing the battle.” Reinhold passed his hand across his forehead. The frightful visions of that fateful day rose again to his mind. He had forgotten the contempt which had lain in the Count’s question, and which he had wished to repel by the account of his share in the battle.
“You went through the whole campaign?” asked the General; and there was a peculiar, almost a tender, tone in his deep voice.
“Yes, sir, if you reckon the fortnight, from the to the , while I was being drilled at Coblenz. As a native of Hamburg and a sailor, I had not had the good fortune of learning my drill properly when young.”
“How came you to be in the campaign?”
“It is a short story, which I will briefly relate. On the I was with my ship in the Southampton Roads, bound for Bombay—captain of my own ship for the first time. On the evening of the we were to weigh anchor. But on the morning of the came the news of the declaration of war; by midday an efficient substitute had been found, and I had said goodbye to my owners and my ship; in the evening I was in London; on the night of the – on my way, by Ostend, Brussels and the Rhine, to Coblenz, where I offered myself as a volunteer, was accepted, went through a small amount of drill, sent forward, and, why, I know not, attached to the ⸻ regiment, eighteenth division, ninth corps, with which I went through the campaign.”
“Were you promoted?”
“I was made a noncommissioned officer at Gravelotte, acting sublieutenant on the , the day after Bazaine’s great sortie, and on the —”
“That was the day of Orleans?”
“Yes, sir; on the day of Orleans I got my commission.”
“I congratulate you on your rapid promotion,” said the General, smiling, but his face darkened again immediately. “Why did you not introduce yourself to me as a fellow-soldier?”
“The merchant-captain must apologise for the lieutenant of the reserve, General.”
“Were you decorated?”
“Yes, sir; I received the Cross with my commission.”
“And you do not wear it?”
“I have dressed so hastily today,” answered Reinhold.
Meta broke into a laugh, in which Reinhold joined heartily; the others smiled too; a civil, approving, flattering smile, as it seemed to the Count.
“I fear that we are putting the patience of the ladies to too long a trial,” he said, with a significant movement.
X
The ladies retired as soon as the table was cleared. Frau von Strummin, who was accustomed to go to bed at , was really tired, and Meta professed to be so too. But her sparkling eyes belied her; and the two girls were no sooner alone, for their
