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That evening, as chance would have it, Ulrich returning to his homestead a rambling mill beside the river, where he dwelt alone with ancient Anna met Elsa of the dimpled hands upon the bridge that spans the murmuring Muhlde, and talked a while with her, and said good-night.
Then Ulrich, who had thought his one desire in life to be to kill all Frenchmen, put food and drink into the Frenchman's knapsack and guided him half through the night and took his hand; and so they parted. Ulrich did not return to Alt Waldnitz, that lies hidden in the forest beside the murmuring Muhlde. They would think he had gone to the war; he would let them think so.
Where the trees broke he would be able to look down upon it, see every roof he knew so well the church, the mill, the winding Muhlde the green, worn grey with dancing feet, where, when the hateful war was over, would be heard again the Saxon folk-songs. Another was there, where the forest halts on the brow of the hill a figure kneeling on the ground with his face towards the village.
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