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Perhaps of all, it troubled most the Herr Pfarrer. Was he not the father of the village? And as such did it not fall to him to see his children marry well and suitably? marry in any case. It was the duty of every worthy citizen to keep alive throughout the ages the sacred hearth fire, to rear up sturdy lads and honest lassies that would serve God, and the Fatherland.
The Herr Pfarrer had gone forward on his melancholy mission to prepare the people for their doom. Ulrich stood alone, looking down upon Alt Waldnitz bathed in moonlight. And there came to him the words of the old pastor: "She will be dearer to you than yourself. For her you would lay down your life."
Ere they left the Dorf, Johann Schmidt had returned from executing his message to Dringenstadt. He had seen the Pfarrer, and he had promised to come along presently and arrange about the funeral. "The Lord thy Shepherd is Dread not nor be dismayed To lead thee on through stormy paths, By ways His hand hath made."
Parish registers were not, even had this been a parish church, but Brother Peter asked, when he had concluded, "Well, my son, which of his flock am I to report to your Pfarrer as linked together?" "The less your tongue wags on that matter till I call on you, the better," was the stern reply.
The blessed Virgin have pity on her;" and as he spoke he crossed himself. "If these things be so," said the chief man, by name Jacob Heine, "then it is plain one of us must go off to Dringenstadt, see the Pfarrer, and settle about the funeral."
The price of such is above rubies." Ulrich's face lightened with a pleasant smile. "Aye, Elsa is a good girl," he answered. "Her little hands have you ever noticed them, Herr Pastor so soft and dimpled." The Pfarrer pushed aside his empty pot and leaned his elbows on the table. "I think I do not think she would say no. Her mother, I have reason to believe Let me sound them discreetly."
There was a fearful row anyhow. Ulrica said Lily talked like a clergyman wie ein Pfarrer.... I don't know. Ulrica said she was opening a letter. I don't know." "But she can't read German or English." "I don't know. Ask me another." "It is extraordinary." "What's extraordinary?" asked Bertha from the far side of Jimmie. "Petite and that letter." "Oh." "What did the Kiddy want?"
They sat in silence for a while; for the fat little Herr Pfarrer was dreaming of the past; and long, lanky Ulrich Nebendahl, the wheelwright, of the future.
But the Herr Pfarrer could not understand. Until years later a dying man unburdened his soul so that the truth became known. Then they raised Ulrich's coffin reverently, and the young men carried it into the village and laid it in the churchyard that it might always be among them.
The Herr Pfarrer was on his way back from the camp where he had been to plead for mercy, but it had been in vain. "Such are foul deeds!" said Ulrich. "The people are mad with hatred of the French," answered the Herr Pastor. "It may be one, it may be a dozen who have taken vengeance into their own hands. May God forgive them." "They will not come forward not to save the village?"
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