Frederick the Great and His Family [150]
endure cursing, or drink, or even tobacco."
"My father was a poor schoolmaster," said Charles Henry; "we lived quietly together, and he could not bear cursing. He used to say, 'When men cursed, it hurt God like the toothache.' He said--'God had not made the corn to grow, that men might make brandy, but bread.' We were too poor to buy beer and wine, so we drank water, and were content."
"Your father was right," said Fritz, thoughtfully. "I believe, myself, corn was not intended to make brandy, and I don't care for it; I will give it up altogether. If we live through this war, and receive good bounty money, we will buy a few acres, and build us a little house, and live together, and cultivate our land, and plant corn; and, in the evening, when our work is done, we will sit on the bench before the door, and you will relate some of your beautiful little stories; and so we will live on together till we are old and die."
"But you have forgotten one thing, Fritz."
"What is that, Charles Henry?"
"You have forgotten that you will take a wife into your little house, and she will soon cast me out."
"Let her try it!" cried Fritz, enraged, and doubling his flat threateningly. "Let her try only to show the door to Charles Henry, and I will shut her out, and she shall never return--never! But," said he, softly, "it is not necessary to think of this; I will never take a wife. We will live together; we need no third person to make strife between us."
Charles said nothing. He looked smilingly into the glowing fire, and then at his comrade, with an amused but tender expression.
If Fritz had seen it, his heart would have bounded again, but he was too much occupied then with his own thoughts to look up.
"Listen, Charles. If nothing comes of our little piece of ground and our house--if my last ball comes to-morrow and carries me off--"
"Stop, stop, Fritz; I will hold my head so that the same ball will carry it off!"
"If you do that, I will be very angry with you," cried Fritz. "You are too young to die, and I will be glad even in my grave to know that you are walking on the green earth. In order to do well, you must have gold; therefore you must be my heir. If I fall, these beautiful gold pieces belong to you; you shall not put a tombstone over me. Buy yourself a few acres, Charles Henry, and when your corn grows and blossoms, that shall be my monument."
Charles took his hand, and his eyes were filled with tears. "Speak no more of death," said he, softly; "it makes my heart heavy, and I shall lose my courage in the battle to-morrow when I think of all you have said. Ugh! how cold it is! My soul feels frosted!"
"I will go and seek a little more wood," said Fritz, springing up, "and make a good fire, and then you shall be warmed."
He hurried off, and Charles remained alone by the tire, looking gravely on the glowing coals; he smiled from time to time, and then he breathed heavily, as if oppressed by some weighty secret. Suddenly he heard a voice behind him.
"Ah! I have found the fire again! Good-evening, children."
"Good-evening, sir king. Comrades, wake up; the king is here!"
"No, no; let your comrades sleep," said the king, softly. "The fire will do me good. I found the right path to the fire, as I said Your dragoons have uncovered my quarters, and the cold blasts of wind whistle through them and freeze the water in my room. I prefer to sit by the fire and warm myself." He was about to seat himself on the straw near the fire, when a harsh voice called out:
"March on!--every lazy scamp wants a place by the fire, but not one of them brings a splinter of wood."
Fritz Kober was behind them with the wood; he had found it with great difficulty, and he was angry when he saw a strange soldier in his place by the side of Charles Henry.
The king turned to him quietly.
"You are right, my son!--come on! I will make room for you."
"It is the king!" exclaimed Fritz, turning as if to fly. But the king held him.
"Remain where you are, my son; you brought the wood, and you have the best right.
"My father was a poor schoolmaster," said Charles Henry; "we lived quietly together, and he could not bear cursing. He used to say, 'When men cursed, it hurt God like the toothache.' He said--'God had not made the corn to grow, that men might make brandy, but bread.' We were too poor to buy beer and wine, so we drank water, and were content."
"Your father was right," said Fritz, thoughtfully. "I believe, myself, corn was not intended to make brandy, and I don't care for it; I will give it up altogether. If we live through this war, and receive good bounty money, we will buy a few acres, and build us a little house, and live together, and cultivate our land, and plant corn; and, in the evening, when our work is done, we will sit on the bench before the door, and you will relate some of your beautiful little stories; and so we will live on together till we are old and die."
"But you have forgotten one thing, Fritz."
"What is that, Charles Henry?"
"You have forgotten that you will take a wife into your little house, and she will soon cast me out."
"Let her try it!" cried Fritz, enraged, and doubling his flat threateningly. "Let her try only to show the door to Charles Henry, and I will shut her out, and she shall never return--never! But," said he, softly, "it is not necessary to think of this; I will never take a wife. We will live together; we need no third person to make strife between us."
Charles said nothing. He looked smilingly into the glowing fire, and then at his comrade, with an amused but tender expression.
If Fritz had seen it, his heart would have bounded again, but he was too much occupied then with his own thoughts to look up.
"Listen, Charles. If nothing comes of our little piece of ground and our house--if my last ball comes to-morrow and carries me off--"
"Stop, stop, Fritz; I will hold my head so that the same ball will carry it off!"
"If you do that, I will be very angry with you," cried Fritz. "You are too young to die, and I will be glad even in my grave to know that you are walking on the green earth. In order to do well, you must have gold; therefore you must be my heir. If I fall, these beautiful gold pieces belong to you; you shall not put a tombstone over me. Buy yourself a few acres, Charles Henry, and when your corn grows and blossoms, that shall be my monument."
Charles took his hand, and his eyes were filled with tears. "Speak no more of death," said he, softly; "it makes my heart heavy, and I shall lose my courage in the battle to-morrow when I think of all you have said. Ugh! how cold it is! My soul feels frosted!"
"I will go and seek a little more wood," said Fritz, springing up, "and make a good fire, and then you shall be warmed."
He hurried off, and Charles remained alone by the tire, looking gravely on the glowing coals; he smiled from time to time, and then he breathed heavily, as if oppressed by some weighty secret. Suddenly he heard a voice behind him.
"Ah! I have found the fire again! Good-evening, children."
"Good-evening, sir king. Comrades, wake up; the king is here!"
"No, no; let your comrades sleep," said the king, softly. "The fire will do me good. I found the right path to the fire, as I said Your dragoons have uncovered my quarters, and the cold blasts of wind whistle through them and freeze the water in my room. I prefer to sit by the fire and warm myself." He was about to seat himself on the straw near the fire, when a harsh voice called out:
"March on!--every lazy scamp wants a place by the fire, but not one of them brings a splinter of wood."
Fritz Kober was behind them with the wood; he had found it with great difficulty, and he was angry when he saw a strange soldier in his place by the side of Charles Henry.
The king turned to him quietly.
"You are right, my son!--come on! I will make room for you."
"It is the king!" exclaimed Fritz, turning as if to fly. But the king held him.
"Remain where you are, my son; you brought the wood, and you have the best right.