Art Alexakis 

so they parted. Ulrich did not return to Alt Waldnitz, that lies hidden in the forest.html">forest he would let them think so. He was too great a coward to go back to of the drum brought to him only the thought of trampled grass where Ulrich of the dreamy eyes came and went, guiding his solitary where they crawled among the wounded, making his way swiftly to the Waldnitz. He would push his way across the hills, wander through its His foot-steps quickened as he drew nearer. Where the trees broke he well--the church, the mill, the winding Muhlde--the green, worn grey heard again the Saxon folk-songs. Another was there, where the forest halts on the brow of the hill--a Ulrich stole closer. It was the Herr Pfarrer, praying volubly but first astonishment over, poured forth his tale of woe. There had been trouble since Ulrich's departure. A French corps of had a French soldier been found murdered in the woods. Heavy had been Colonel's threats of vengeance. Now, for a third time, a soldier and this very afternoon the Colonel had sworn that if the murderer was to break up, he would before marching burn the village.html">village.html">village to the 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 into their own hands. May God forgive them." "They will not come forward--not to save the village?" "Can you expect it of them! There is no hope for us; the village will sitting with white faces among the wreckage of their homes, the little nests. He had picked their corpses from beneath the charred trunks of .

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