New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1916-10-29
A Story of w ar


into the kitchen, back into the shadows, away
from the merrymakers and the boisterous
smith She had become more tranquil IN spirit
less dissatisfied with herself and with ner
past: but she could never be livelier. And the
gayer things were in the front room the more
the thought oppressed her: "If It only lasts
If it only lasts"
It had not lasted Max had already been
for weeks on the Vosges front He wrote
now and then-always full Of confidence al
ways cheerful, asking about everything that
was going on at home. Anna looked after
the guests, Just as she used TO do before her
marriage Yet there was a different sort OF
atmosphere Everybody was more serious
more restrained and more thoughtful. They
talked of those who had gone to the war, OF the
stock of provisions at home, Of the new CROP
of the contemplate English; and every one
inquired about Max.
Latterly Anna had had little news of him.
Letters were delayed. But that was nothing
extraordinary at a time when the troops were
moving forward. They accepted the situation.
But the old Rike pressed her lips tighter to-
gether than ever. The expression in her eyes
became more far-away and distracted and her
mind brooded on the days Of 1864. Often she
nodded her head little and moved her Inns
SOFTLY very softly. But no sound cana
Anna had not noticed this-only the silent
Bertha, who knew her old mother-in-law's face
to the last wrinkle even better than she knew
her own. And since the old woman now sell
dom let a syllable pass her lips, Mother Ber-
tina thought it incumbent on her to say some
thing.
"Anna" she asked one day after dinner, "is
there something that makes you fearful?"
Anna felt as if fine, fine point had pierced
her heart. But she collected herself and an
swered:
"No. Nothing of the sort"
Il only thought"- said the silent Bertha
shyly, and went off with flushed face into
the kitchen. From that day on the three
women spoke even more infreque-.s with one
another, and then only about the daily work
of the tavern
Three more weeks passed and no news came.
Then one evening the carpenter from neigh
boring village appeared. He had gone away
with Max, belonged to the same regiment, and
was back from the front wearing his wounded
arm in sling. He could tell them good deal
about Max. The captain had once praised
him after patrol assignment, and had said
that if every other soldier did his duty like
that everything would certainly end well. On
the same evening they had taken part in
assault in the course Of which he had been
wounded in the arm. Tho next morning many
were missing. They had sent him with the
other wounded to the hospital. But just what
happened to Max he could not say.
While the carpenter talked the three women
looked searchngly at another, all Of them
undoubtedly thinking the same thing When
he stopped they did not ask him any further
questions about Max. For there are times
when, in spite of every inner longing for GER
tain knowledge one gladly, very gladly, goes
out of his way to evade the last, definite an
swer.
That night the three women must have slept
very little, for they all appeared the next
morning with gray shadows under tear-stained
eyes. 1t seemed as if they had all three taken
deep counsel with themselves-each alone and
silently-and had reached the same conclu-
sion. Each of them, apparently, had made a
broad fms stroke beneath another chapter of
life. For in the eyes of all of them shone the
light of resignation. If the worst had TO como
they were now prepared for it.
As they sat at dinner they talked more
freely than usual and played with Annas
little girl, half year-old infant. Each of
them took it for while on her lap. Each
acted as if she had new and special interest
in the child and its future.
Moreover, they exhibited toward one an
other unwonted cordiality, and when, in
spite Of all her efforts to control herself, the
silent Bertha began to weep the eyes of the
other two also glistened with tears. But Anna
gathered herself together, assumed a look Of
hopefulness took the child on her arm and,
fondling it and smiling at it through her tears,
carried it into the bed chamber
That afternoon the first December snow fell.
The letter carrier came, took a drink of
whiskey and then hesitatingly laid letter on
the table.
From headquarters!" he said with voice
which trembled a little. Then he pressed
Annals hand warmly and alphabetically and
went away.
The two older women came in from the
kitchen. Anna opened the letter, glanced
over the lines and handed it to the others.
Each read it silently. The fire cracked in
the stove. The lid of the water kettle bobbed
up and down under the pressure of the escap-
ing steam The old gray cat, which since
midday had lain under the stove, crawled out,