“He must come now,” repeated the sergeant, doggedly. “Those are the orders. If he disobeys them—if I am compelled to use force—he will be treated as a deserter. Will you tell him, or must I send my men in to get him?”

The sunken eyes flamed with rage, the wrinkled face was contorted with hate—but only for an instant.[Pg 50] The flame died; old age, despair, the habit of obedience, reasserted themselves. A tear trickled down the cheek—a tear of helplessness and resignation.

[Pg 50]

“I will tell him, sir,” she said, and disappeared indoors.

The sergeant turned back to his men, cursing horribly to himself. Suddenly he spat upon the pavement in disgust.

“A devil’s job!” he muttered, and took a short turn up and down, without looking at his men. In a moment the old woman reappeared in the door. “Well, mother?” he demanded, gruffly.

“I have told him. He will be here at once.”

As she spoke, a fair-haired youth of perhaps twenty appeared on the threshold and saluted. His eyes were red with weeping, but he held himself proudly erect.

“Hermann Gronau?” asked the sergeant.

“Yes.”

“Fall in!”

With a shriek of anguish, the woman threw her arms about him and strained him close.

“My boy!” she moaned. “My youngest one—my baby—they are taking you also!”

“I shall be back, mother, never fear,” he said, and [Pg 51]loosened her arms gently. “You will write me when—when it is over.”

[Pg 51]

“Yes,” she promised, and he took his place in the ranks.

“March!” cried the sergeant, and the section tramped away with Gronau in its midst. At the corner, he turned and waved his hand in farewell to the old woman. For a moment longer she stood clutching at the door and staring at the place where he had vanished, then turned slowly back into the house.

[Pg 52]

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