Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 177, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 July 1910 — When the General Was Afraid [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

When the General Was Afraid

Laughter and protests were heard from their retired excellencies, who were sitting round a table In Wiesbaden. But the white-headed little general, who had been speaking, remained grave and said: "Yes • • * It Is true; In 1870 I was afraid * s “Of whom?” "To this day I know not! • • •” And seeing their Interested faces he added: "If you like I will tell you about It. It was In the winter, and near Orleans. The exact name of the little place In which we dragoons were quartered has escaped my memory. Bar rarlans had been in the village before ns. In the night skirmishes which had preceded the taking of the village • troop of Franctireurs who wers cut off from the main army had been established there. Our men desired to avoid unnecessary bloodshed through a direct attack, so they fired the back of the building, and finally the Franctireurs withdrew. Ultimately all became quiet, only the flames still crackled —and the greater part of the little castle was burnt down on that cold winter’s night. Only the front of the mansion remained standing. The place awakened gloomy memories. Blood was everywhere—tufts of hair on the walls, doors forced open In hand-to-hand fights. It had all come to pass as they themselves had chosen —they had resisted us-by-force bfAraaa-^-therefore • • • but, at any rate, the desolate house with broken window panes was standing empty when we arrived. In the stillness of the nighty—so many people asserted mysterious sounds had been heard • • * numerous voices, hushed laughter, steps, banging of doors, will-o’-the-wisp lights in the windows. And just this mystery excited a young lieutenant of the Bavarian Light cavalry. He declared that for once he would spend a night in the haunted house; and toward evening he moved over there with a mattress and a revolver. But the others had not yet gone to bed when — at about 10 o'clock —he reappeared in their midst and quietly sat down among them. Why he had not remained over there could not be discovered. He submitted calmly to being chaffed, but kept a scrupulous secrecy, and ultimately rode away with his regiment. And we, their successors, were already full of the legends about the caatle. The troops were telling the most foolish and this annoyed our adjutant. He wished to prove that they were false. On the third morning after our arrival, he said to ns quite coolly: •‘Well, boys, • • • I passed the whole of last night over there!” A couple of witnesses testified to it. Everyone asked: “Well —and * * *?” “I slept and dreamt of my mother. • • • Nothing else at all. * • *” He laughed and was In good spifits. although he looked rather pale. Toward evening he rode to the brigade quarters—three villages off—to receive orders. He has never again been seen. Some time afterward we were sitting together one evening in thoughtful mood and talking about our missing comrade, and how, just the night before his death, he had been ip that bouse of which the dark window frames were distinctly yawning across the snow in the moonshine. Now it so happened that I had taken a good deal of wine that evening, for I had not been well during the last few days. But now the wine inclined me to be as venturesome as I usually was when a young lieutenant of 26, and I called out: “I shall establish my headquarters over there for to-night.” “You will not go there.” So spake one of my best friends beside me; and I replied: “What will you bet?” “My white Arab. She is anyway too light for my weight! Early to-morrow •he will be yoprs!” “Done!” So at about 10 o’clock I strolled across the crunching snow to the silent bouse, my servant with me. He carried the bedding, which he laid down by the fireplace In the great hall. He had already lit a fire, and, pushing forward a few more logs of wood for replenishing it, he faced about at my "All right—now be off!” and was scarcely outside the door than I beard him running as fast as * be could. And then all was still and I Z was aloxus |

I gradually fell asleep—at least. It was a restless half sleep, in which reality was ever taking part—now with a few strokes from the tower of the little church, now with a few ▼olces of dragoons im the street; then the watchguard sounded the hour, and between came confused dreams about home; perhaps peace would soon be declared—and now' it was all silent—so deadly silent. • • • And’ cold, too. I was shivering under the thick woolen covering which I had put over me, and I drowsily looked at the fireplace near me. I raised myself upon my elbow and with the other hand pushed a few logs on to the fire. Then I lay down again. I was now quite awake, and looked about the room so brightly lit up by the moon. And with amazement I observed that someone was standing by the window—a young officer. It was quite simple; while I had been asleep a comrade had come to see how I was getting on, and above all If I really were In the house. Naturally—for no one likes losing a bet, and such a mare In addition! So I said quite pleasantly and In a low tone from under ihe covering: “Well—which of you is It?” and In the silence exactly like an echo resounded from the empty'walls of the great hall, "which of you Is It?”—but no answer I repeated the question louder a second time and angrily and Impatiently a third time * • * but the only sound I heard was my own voice • • • strange In the still night. The form at the window took no notice. And suddenly It became clear to me, that is our adjutant? Then I thought again: If it is the adjutantwell, he is my comrade, my good friend. The adjutant had been a dark man of medium fcize. The lieutenant here, however, had fair hair. That struck me, for It did not correspond. It must then be another man. But who else would be wearing the uniform of my regiment? When was It then? Two days ago? —no, three days ago, I had been shaving myself that morning and had cut myself—at the back of my cheek—

under the right ear. The military Burgeon who happened to be there, put on it a little pad of wadding. It was still adhering. I could feel it with my hand. But over there at the window he, too, had it on exactly the Bame spot. And if that were so, then apparently that strange officer in the moonshine was me—and I must be duplicated in this room. Everything was in accord—height, size-—every-thing about the shadowy phantom over there—-and in my foolishness I thought when he turns round to me, then I shall know! And a morbid curiosity seized me. He must turn round —you must Bee yourself once again!—and immediately he did it, and I noticed whatever I, at the fireside, was thinking, that one over at the window immediately did. My will acted both here and there * * * through it we were united—and we looked at each other —and now I fully recognized myself * • * and tremblingly thought: If only that other one does not begin to laugh! And already he was laughing so that I could see his white teeth under the mustache. Thank God —we are ten paces apart! • • * I must not let him come nearer—he must not come any nearer! And in this same moment the one at the window put himself in motion and came with quick long strides toward the mattress on which I lay. I sprang up and rushed like a terrified hare out of the room to the open hall door, and behind me were hasty, buoyant steps and soft clanging of spurs, and I ran faster and ever faster, and lost my footing on the slippery outside steps and fell headlong into the snow. That cooled me, and gradually my senses returned. I lay there in clear cool air and saw over me the stars — nothing else. Slowly I rose up and strode away through the snow—anything to get away from that house—and I kept nervously turning round to look back. I did not wish to return to my quarters. My comrades would have noticed me and laughed at me. But nearby was the stable where my horses and those of the other lieutenants were kept. There, with a constant cold shiver down my back, although it was warm among the horses I waited for the dawn. Dawn was already breaking. Prom the distance I heard a hollow sound — once, twice * • * then at regular

intervals • * • cannon snots • * * I was convinced .that I should not live through the next day. To die so young—to leave this beautiful world. I heard clanging outside. The trump eters were riding through tne snowy streets sounding the alarm. In the hurry of mounting no one observed my appearance. Only my friend called out: “Well—l congratulate you • • * the Arab is yours!” And I waved my hand energetically' “Keep It! * • • Keep it! • • *’’ and without noticing his air of amazement I trotted to my squadron as cover. On that day we got Into the thick of the fire. I was not hit * * • and I asked myself again, when will It finally come. * * * But toward midday the firing ceased—the skirmish was over. * » • We had dismounted and I was crouching down by a milestone holding my head In my hands, staring before me, when the surgeon riding by called out to me: “I say—why do you look like that?” I answered quite mechanically, "I am doomed to die! • • *” “H’m * * * Since when have you been feeling so 111, Herr Lieutenant?” “For about a week * * * an( j last night * * •” I broke off. He was not listening—but quickly unfastened my co&t. My whole chest was covered with red spots. I had not seen this —and he said: “Now we know what it is! What do you mean by running about ihe world with fully developed typhus on you? Why the devil didn’t you give notice that you were ill?” I was silent. * * * The doctor called his hospital assistants, who packed me up and carried me off. It was a severe attack—and It brought me to tie very brink of the grave, hut, nevertheless —when I look back—l prefer this end to a terror than a terror without an end. "TT — *‘T —Country Life.

“I WILL TELL YOU ABOUT IT.”