Napoleon And Blucher Part 32

"Wie gluh'n davon die Herzen So froh und stark und weich.

Wer fallt, der kann's verschmerzen, Der hat das Himmelreich!"

[Footnote: La Motte Fouque composed this poem on the march from Potsdam to Breslau, whither he conducted the first companies of volunteers. It was the first song of liberty published in 1813:

Mount! mount! for sacred freedom fight!

The battle soon must be.

The night is past, and red the light Streams o'er the dewy lea.

Up! let the coward idlers sleep!

Who envies them their rest?

We march with joyful hearts to keep Our honored king's request.

To us he said: "My brave ones all!-- My cha.s.seurs! where are they?"

Responsive to his patriot call We hastened to obey.

We vowed to strike with mighty hand As it becomes the free-- A safeguard for our native land With Heaven's grace to be.

Sleep calmly, wives and children dear To G.o.d your sorrows tell.

The hour, alas! of blood is near, But all your fears dispel.

Approved we hasten to the field; What though the strife begins!

'Tis joy our loved ones thus to shield, For pious courage wins.

Returning, all may not be found!

But some, in glory's grave, Shall never hear the songs resound Of those they died to save.

Come, glowing heart! despise the pain Of death; for, evermore,.

Shall he who falls, a kingdom gain On heaven's eternal sh.o.r.e!]

CHAPTER XXIII.

LEONORA PROHASKA.

Old Sergeant Prohaska sat sad and musing in his old easy-chair near the stove; before him lay a copy of the Vossische Zeitung, which he had just perused. He laid it aside with a sigh; supporting his head on the leathern cushion, he puffed clouds of smoke from his short clay pipe. Close to him, at the small table standing in the niche of the only window which admitted light into the small, dark room, sat a young girl, busily engaged in drawing threads from a large piece of linen, and putting them carefully on the pile of lint on the table. She was scarcely eighteen years old, but her n.o.ble, pale countenance wore an expression of boldness and energy; her forehead was high, and vigorous thoughts seemed to dwell there. Large black eyes were flashing under her finely-arched eyebrows, which almost touched each other above her beautifully-chiselled, slightly-curved nose. Round her crimson lips was an expression of melancholy, and her cheeks seemed to have been bleached by grief rather than sickness. She was tall and well formed, but her whole appearance was more remarkable for the stern and heroic character it indicated than for grace and loveliness. While she was thus at work, and engaged in preparing lint, troubled thoughts seemed to pa.s.s from time to time across her face, and she raised her eyes to heaven with an angry and reproachful expression. She impulsively cast aside the linen, and jumped up. "No, father," she exclaimed, drawing a deep breath, "I cannot bear it any longer!"

"What is it that you cannot bear any longer, Leonora?" exclaimed her father, surprised.

"To sit here and prepare lint while the whole world is astir, while every heart is swelling with patriotism and warlike enthusiasm! And I cannot do any thing, I cannot join in the universal exultation--I can do nothing but prepare lint! Father, it is heart-rending, and I cannot bear it!"

"Must not I bear it?" asked her father in a tremulous voice. "Must not I sit still behind the stove, while all my old comrades are taking up arms and marching into the field? My right leg was buried at Jena, and I must limp about now as a miserable cripple; I cannot even take revenge for the disgrace of Jena; I cannot even pay the French for my leg by cutting off the heads of some of their accursed soldiers. I am a cripple, while others are hastening into the field!

When _I_ must bear that, a girl like you ought a.s.suredly not to complain."

"Father," said Leonora, with flashing eyes, "do not despise me because I am a girl! Did you not tell me of the heroic women of Spain and the Tyrol, and of their glorious deeds? Did you not tell me that, by their intrepid patriotism, they had set a sublime example to the men. and that by their influence their country was to be saved? Was not the heroine of Saragossa a woman? Did not women and girls fight like heroes in the gorges of the Tyrol?"

"Yes, that is true," exclaimed her father, smiling, "but then they were Spanish and Tyrolese girls. They have fire in their veins, and love their country with an undying patriotism."

"Ah, one need not be born in the South to have warm blood,"

exclaimed Leonora, ardently, "It is not the sun that gives love of country, and patriotic hearts may throb even under the snow." "Have you such a heart, Leonora?" asked her father, casting on her a long and searching look.

"Father," she said, pressing her hands on her bosom, "there is something burning here like fire; and at times when I hear how all are rallying round the flag--and how the warlike enthusiasm is pervading the whole country, I feel as if the blood would burst from my heart and head. It is true I am no Spanish girl, but I am a Prussian girl!"

"Ah, I would you were a Prussian boy!" sighed her father, shaking his head. "If you were, I believe you would look well in the ranks of the volunteers; they would not likely reject the young soldier of eighteen."

"I am quite tall and strong, although I am but a girl," exclaimed Leonora, with flashing eyes; "I have seen among the soldiers who started yesterday many volunteers who were a great deal shorter and slighter than I am."

"But, at all events, they had shorter hair and a stronger voice than you have," laughed her father.

"Oh, I can cut off my hair," she said, quickly; "and as for my voice, Kalbaum, the tailor, who accompanied the volunteers, has a voice no stronger than mine, and yet he was accepted. And then--"

"Hush!" interposed her father quickly. "I hear your mother coming.

Do not speak of such things when she is present. It would alarm her.

Bold thoughts must be locked up in our hearts, for, if we speak of them, it looks like braggadocio; we are only allowed to speak of bold deeds. Do not forget that, my daughter, and give me a kiss!"

Leonora hastened to her father, and encircling him with her arms, pressed a glowing kiss on the lips of the old invalid.

"Father," she whispered, "I believe you understand me, and can read my thoughts!"

"G.o.d alone is able to read our thoughts," said her father, solemnly, "and it is only from Him that we must not conceal any thing. But what is that? Is not your mother weeping outside?" And old Prohaska jumped up and limped, as quickly as his wooden leg permitted, toward the door.

At this moment the door was noisily opened, and a woman appeared on the threshold. Behind her was a tall, slender, and pale boy, scarcely fourteen years of age. Both entered the room with tearful eyes and loud lamentations.

"Wife, what is the matter--what has happened?" exclaimed Old Prohaska, anxiously.

"Why do you weep, my brother?" asked Leonora, hastening to the boy, and clasping him in her arms. He laid his head on her breast and wept aloud.

"What has happened?" wailed his mother. "All our hopes are blasted; we have been rejected!"

"Rejected? Where? And by whom?" asked the invalid, in amazement.

"By the military commission!" cried his wife, drying her tears with her long ap.r.o.n.

"What did you want of the military commission? Did you desire to become a vivandiere, old woman?"

"No, but Charles wanted to enlist, father! Yes, you must know all now. We thought we would prepare a joyous surprise for you, but the good Lord and the military commission would not let us do so. Look, old man! I perceived very well how painful it was to you, and how it was gnawing at your heart, that your wooden leg compels you to remain here at Potsdam, and prevents your marching out with the soldiers who are hurrying to the headquarters of their king at Breslau."

"Yes, it is true, it is very sad! My general, old Blucher, under whom I fought in 1806, is also at Breslau, and what will he say when he looks for his old hussars of 1806, and does not find Prohaska! He will say, 'Prohaska has become a coward--a lazy old good-for- nothing.'"

"No, father, he will not say so," exclaimed Leonora, ardently; "if he knows you, he cannot say so.--But speak, mother, tell us what makes you weep, and what has so afflicted my dear brother?"

"Both of us noticed father's secret grief, and comprehended how painful it was for him to be unable to partic.i.p.ate in the war." said her mother. "I had not mentioned it to any one, and to G.o.d alone I had complained how grievous it is that I have no full-grown son, who, instead of his father, might serve his king at the present time. Last night, when all of you were asleep, Charles came to my bedside. 'Mother,' he said to me, 'mother, I must tell you something! I will and must enlist! It would be an eternal disgrace for me to stay at home, particularly as father is disabled, and cannot fight any more. Mother, the honor of the family is at stake; I must enlist or die!'"

"Ah, you are a true brother of mine," exclaimed Leonora, with a radiant face, drawing the boy closer to her heart.

"And what did you reply to Charles, mother?" asked the invalid.