Trudchen, seeing him idle, pushed her cold nose into his hand.
Trudchen just now was feeling clever and important. Was she not the
mother of the five most wonderful puppies in all Saxony? They swarmed
about his legs, pressing him with their little foolish heads. Ulrich
stooped and picked up one in each big hand. But this causing jealousy
and heartburning, laughing, he lay down upon a log. Then the whole
five stormed over him, biting his hair, trampling with their clumsy
paws upon his face; till suddenly they raced off in a body to attack a
floating feather. Ulrich sat up and watched them, the little rogues,
the little foolish, helpless things, that called for so much care. A
mother thrush twittered above his head. Ulrich rose and creeping on
tiptoe, peeped into the nest. But the mother bird, casting one glance
towards him, went on with her work. Whoever was afraid of Ulrich the
wheelwright! The tiny murmuring insects buzzed to and fro about his
feet. An old man, passing to his evening rest, gave him "good-day."
A zephyr whispered something to the leaves, at which they laughed,
then passed upon his way. Here and there a shadow crept out from its
hiding-place.

"If only I could marry the whole village!" laughed Ulrich to himself.

But that, of course, is nonsense!

The spring that followed let loose the dogs of war again upon the
blood-stained land, for now all Germany, taught late by common
suffering forgetfulness of local rivalries, was rushing together in a
mighty wave that would sweep French feet for ever from their hold on
German soil. Ulrich, for whom the love of woman seemed not, would at
least be the lover of his country. He, too, would march among those
brave stern hearts that, stealing like a thousand rivulets from every