New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-10-08
One Touch of Nature
By Else Kraft

stood a picture of her husband, who for weeks
had been fighting somewhere at the 'front.'
Sobbing, she gazed at the smiling face under
the glass
FRANZ" she called, helpless!y.
But her outstretched arms remained empty.
Her timid cry echoed back to her. She was
all alone in her great fear and need.
She had strength enough to open the door
which led back into the kitchen and to shut 1t
again softly. Then she sank unconscious into
a chair which stood near by, striking her head
hard against its thick wooden back How long
she sat there she could not tell. A current OF
cool night air came in from somewhere-and
the rustlng noise of the trees in the garden,
which lay just beyond the kitchen.
The feeling that door must have been left
open finally reused the young wife. And there
-there-what was that that forced her to
turn her head with start? A groan, loud
and agonizing-of sort which she was sure
she had never heard before 1t rose above the
nurmur of the wind the rustling of the trees,
the far-off echo of footsteps and the dull noises
from the inner part of the town, from which
the French had been driven after hours of
fighting.
Frau Hanna was suddenly herself again,
strong and fresh Down there in the garden
somebody lay wounded-her neighbor, per-
haps, who had ventured out of his house too
soon-the neighbours wife-or a friend-a
relative from the town, who knew that she had
STAYED in the suburb alone with her children
and her old father, and wanted to look after
her and help her. And he had been struck by
those terrible misses-perhaps shot down by
some retreating Frenchman whose path he had
crossed.
Oh, how she hated those enemies, with their
pale. black-bearded faces and their dark,
malicious eyes!
But now they were gone-driven roughly out
by the incoming German soldiers. The town
was German again-safely German. Good
God, it must remain German unless all that
was right and holy was deception and lie!
The young wife Strengthened up her tired
body and brushed the dishevelled blond hair
out of her face. A half an hour before she
had trembled in fear and horror of the French
invaders. Now as the grooming down below
grew stronger and stronger she no longer felt
any fear.
She stepped into the kitchen, crossed the
floor and loosened the bolts of the heavy mousse
door, which opened into the garden.
There everything was still, except for the
beating of the two goats in the stable which
they had forgotten to milk. High up over the
trees the moon foated and the stars shone.
A smell of smoke was In the air. From over
there where the broad main street OF the town
ran came a sound like the rattle Of wheels on
the pavement and the fash Of scurrying IAN
terms. Then all was darkness again-pitchy
darkness OIL all sides.
The young wife lighted the stable lantern
still standing upright on the wheelbarrow IN
which the grandfather had brought yesterday
from the meadow the last remnants of forage
for the goats. Her fingers trembled-for there
there came once more that fearful grooming.
II came from the midst of the old ditched-ln
pea vine bed, on whose edge stood the tall sun
flowers and the gay-colored, long-stemmed
asters. whose first blooms she had stuck as
bouquet in the muzzle Of Franz's rifle when he
went away.
The little wooden gate which led into the
garden stood open. Some pallngs of the side
fence we're broken. The shrubbery was crushed
and the childrens little carefully tended flower
bed was trodden down.
With her body bsnt forwsrd the young wife
picked her way among the trees, elenching her