XVIII
DEATH OF LITTLE DAVID
The most painful of all my recollections, Fritz, is the way in whichthat terrible disease came to our family.
On the twelfth of March we heard of a large number of men, women, andchildren who were dying. We dared not listen; we said:
"No one in our house is sick, the Lord watches over us!"
After David had come, after supper, to cuddle in my arms, with hislittle hand on my shoulder, I looked at him; he seemed very drowsy, butchildren are always sleepy at night. Esdras was already asleep, andSafel had just bidden us good-night.
At last Zeffen took the child, and we all went to bed.
That night the Russians did not fire; perhaps the typhus was amongthem, too. I do not know.
About midnight, when by God's goodness we were asleep, I heard aterrible cry.
I listened, and Sorle said to me:
"It is Zeffen!"
I rose at once, and tried to light the lamp; but I was so much agitatedthat I could not find anything.
Sorle struck a light, I drew on my pantaloons and ran to the door. ButI was hardly in the passage-way when Zeffen came out of her room likean insane person, with her long black hair all loose.
"The child!" she screamed.
Sorle followed me. We went in, we leaned over the cradle. The twochildren seemed to be sleeping; Esdras all rosy, David as white as snow.
At first I saw nothing, I was so frightened, but at last I took upDavid to waken him; I shook him, and called, "David!"
And then we first saw that his eyes were open and fixed.
"Wake him! wake him!" cried Zeffen.
Sorle took my hands and said:
"Quick! make a fire! heat some water!"
And we laid him across the bed, shaking him and calling him by name.Little Esdras began to cry.
"Light a fire!" said Sorle again to me. "And, Zeffen, be quiet! Itdoes no good to cry so! Quick, quick, a fire!"
But Zeffen cried out incessantly, "My poor child!"
"He will soon be warm again," said Sorle; "only, Moses, make haste anddress yourself, and run for Doctor Steinbrenner."
She was pale and more alarmed than we, but this brave woman never losther presence of mind or her courage. She had made a fire, and thefagots were crackling in the chimney.
I ran to get my cloak, and went down, thinking to myself:
"The Lord have mercy upon us! If the child dies I shall not survivehim! No, he is the one that I love best, I could not survive him!"
For you know, Fritz, that the child who is most unhappy, or in thegreatest danger, is always the one that we love best; he needs us themost; we forget the others. The Lord has ordered it so, doubtless forthe greatest good.
I was already running in the street.
A darker night was never known. The wind blew from the Rhine, the snowblew about like dust; here and there the lighted windows showed wherepeople were watching the sick.
My head was uncovered, yet I did not feel the cold. I cried withinmyself:
"The last day had come! That day of which the Lord has said: 'Aforethe harvest, when the bud is perfect, and the sour grape is ripening inthe flower, he shall both cut off the sprigs with pruning-hooks, andtake away and cut down the branches."
Full of these fearful thoughts, I went across the large market-place,where the wind was tossing the old elms, full of frost.
As the clock struck one, I pushed open Doctor Steinbrenner's door; itslarge pulley rattled in the vestibule. As I was groping about, tryingto find the railing, the servant appeared with a light at the top ofthe stairs.
"Who is there?" she asked, holding the lantern before her.
"Ah!" I replied, "tell the doctor to come immediately; we have a childsick, very sick."
I could not restrain my sobs.
"Come up, Monsieur Moses," said the girl: "the doctor has just come in,and has not gone to bed. Come up a moment and warm yourself!"
But Father Steinbrenner had heard it all.
"Very well, Theresa!" said he, coming out of his room; "keep the fireburning. I shall be back in an hour at latest."
He had already put on his large three-cornered cap, and his goat's-hairgreat-coat.
We walked across the square without speaking. I went first; in a fewminutes we ascended our stairs.
Sorle had placed a candle at the top of the stairs; I took it and ledM. Steinbrenner to the baby's room.
All seemed quiet as we entered. Zeffen was sitting in an arm-chairbehind the door, with her head on her knees, and her shouldersuncovered; she was no longer crying but weeping. The child was in bed.Sorle, standing at its side, looked at us.
The doctor laid his cap on the bureau.
"It is too warm here," said he, "give us a little air."
Then he went to the bed. Zeffen had risen from her chair, as pale asdeath. The doctor took the lamp, and looked at our poor little David;he raised the coverlet and lifted out the little round limbs; helistened to the breathing. Esdras having begun to cry, he turned roundand said: "Take the other child away from this room--we must be quiet!and besides, the air of a sick-room is not good for such smallchildren."
He gave me a side look. I understood what he meant to say. It was thetyphus! I looked at my wife; she understood it all.
I felt at that moment as if my heart were torn; I wanted to groan, butZeffen was there leaning over, behind us, and I said nothing; nor didSorle.
The doctor asked for paper to write a prescription, and we went outtogether. I led him to our room, and shut the door, and began to sob.
"Moses," said he, "you are a man, do not weep! Remember that you oughtto set an example of courage to two poor women."
"Is there no hope?" I asked him in a low voice, afraid of being heard.
"It is the typhus!" said he. "We will do what we can. There, that isthe prescription; go to Tribolin's; his boy is up at night now, and hewill give you the medicine. Be quick! And then, in heaven's name,take the other child out of that room, and your daughter too, ifpossible. Try to find some one out of the family, accustomed tosickness; the typhus is contagious."
I said nothing.
He took his cap and went.
Now what can I say more? The typhus is a disease engendered by deathitself; the prophet speaks of it, when he says:
"Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming!"
How many have I seen die of the typhus in our hospitals, on the Savernehill, and elsewhere!
When men tear each other to pieces, without mercy, why should not deathcome to help them? But what had this poor babe done that it must dieso soon? This, Fritz, is the most dreadful thing, that all must sufferfor the crimes of a few. Yes, when I think that my child died of thispestilence, which war had brought from the heart of Russia to ourhomes, and which ravaged all Alsace and Lorraine for six months,instead of accusing God, as the impious do, I accuse men. Has not Godgiven them reason? And when they do not use it--when they letthemselves rage against each other like brutes--is He to blame for it?
But of what use are right ideas, when we are suffering!
I remember that the sickness lasted for six days, and those were thecruelest days of my life. I feared for my wife, for my daughter, forSafel, for Esdras. I sat in a corner, listening to the babe'sbreathing. Sometimes he seemed to breathe no longer. Then a chillpassed over me; I went to him and listened. And when, by chance,Zeffen came, in spite of the doctor's prohibition, I went into a sortof fury; I pushed her out by the shoulders, trembling.
"But he is my child! He is my child!" she said.
"And art thou not my child too?" said I. "I do not want you all todie!"
Then I burst into tears, and fell into my chair, looking straightbefore me, my strength all gone; I was exhausted with grief.
Sorle came and went, with firm-closed lips; she prepared everything,and cared for everybody.
At that time musk was the remedy for typhus;
the house was full ofmusk. Often the idea seized me that Esdras, too, was going to be sick.Ah, if having children is the greatest happiness in the world, whatagony is it to see them suffer! How fearful to think of losingthem!--to be there, to hear their labored breathing, their delirium, towatch their sinking from hour to hour, from minute to minute, and toexclaim from the depths of the soul:
"Death is near at hand! There is nothing, nothing more that can bedone to save thee, my child! I cannot give thee my life! Death doesnot wish for it!"
What heart-rending and what anguish, till the last moment when all isover!
Then, Fritz, money, the blockade, the famine, the generaldesolation--all were forgotten. I hardly saw the sergeant open ourdoor every morning, and look in, asking:
"Well, Father Moses, well?"
I did not know what he said; I paid no attention to him.
But, what I always think of with pleasure, what I am always proud of,is that, in the midst of all this trouble, when Sorle, Zeffen, myself,and everybody were beside ourselves, when we forgot all about ourbusiness, and let everything go, little Safel at once took charge ofour shop. Every morning we heard him rise at six o'clock, go down,open, the warehouse, take up one or two pitchers of brandy, and beginto serve the customers.
No one had said a word to him about it, but Safel had a genius fortrade. And if anything could console a father in such troubles, itwould be to see himself, as it were, living over again in so young achild, and to say to himself: "At least the good race is not extinct;it still remains to preserve common-sense in the world." Yes, it isthe only consolation which a man can have.
Our _schabesgoie_ did the work in the kitchen, and old Lanche helped uswatch, but Safel took the charge of the shop; his mother and I thoughtof nothing but our little David.
He died in the night of the eighteenth of March, the day when the firebroke out in Captain Cabanier's house.
That same night two shells fell upon our house; the blindage made themroll into the court, where they both burst, shattering the laundrywindows and demolishing the butcher's door, which fell down at oncewith a fearful crash.
It was the most powerful bombardment since the blockade began, for, assoon as the enemy saw the flame ascending, they fired from Mittelbronn,from the Barracks, and the Fiquet lowlands, to prevent its beingextinguished.
I stayed all the while with Sorle, near the babe's bed, and the noiseof the bursting shells did not disturb us.
The unhappy do not cling to life; and then the child was so sick!There were blue spots all over his body.
The end was drawing near.
I walked the room. Without they were crying "Fire! Fire!"
People passed in the street like a torrent. We heard those returningfrom the fire telling the news, the engines hurrying by, the soldiersranging the crowd in the line, the shells bursting at the right andleft.
Before our windows the long trails of red flame descended upon theroofs in front, and shattered the glass of the windows. Our cannon allaround the city replied to the enemy. Now and then we heard the cry:"Room! Room!" as the wounded were carried away.
Twice some pickets came up into my room to put me in the line, but, onseeing me sitting with Sorle by our child, they went down again.
The first shell burst at our house about eleven o'clock, the second atfour in the morning; everything shook, from the garret to the cellar;the floor, the bed, the furniture seemed to be upheaved; but, in ourexhaustion and despair, we did not speak a single word.
Zeffen came running to us with Esdras and little Safel, at the firstexplosion. It was evident that little David was dying. Old Lanche andSorle were sitting, sobbing. Zeffen began to cry.
I opened the windows wide, to admit the air, and the powder-smoke whichcovered the city came into the room.
Safel saw at once that the hour was at hand. I needed only to look athim, and he went out, and soon returned by a side street,notwithstanding the crowd, with Kalmes the chanter, who began to recitethe prayer of the dying:
"The Lord reigneth! The Lord reigneth! The Lord shall reigneverywhere and forever!
"Praise, everywhere and forever, the name of His glorious reign!
"The Lord is God! The Lord is God! The Lord is God!
"Hear, oh Israel, the Lord our God is one God!
"Go, then, where the Lord calleth thee--go, and may His mercy help thee!
"May the Lord, our God, be with thee; may His immortal angels lead theeto heaven, and may the righteous be glad when the Lord shall receivethee into His bosom!
"God of mercy, receive this soul into the midst of eternal joys!"
Sorle and I repeated, weeping, those holy words. Zeffen lay as ifdead, her arms extended across the bed, over the feet of her child.Her brother Safel stood behind her, weeping bitterly, and callingsoftly, "Zeffen! Zeffen!"
But she did not hear; her soul was lost in infinite sorrows.
Without, the cries of "Fire!" the orders for the engines, the tumult ofthe crowd, the rolling of the cannonade still continued; the flashes,one after another, lighted up the darkness.
What a night, Fritz! What a night!
Suddenly Safel, who was leaning over under the curtain, turned round tous in terror. My wife and I ran, and saw that the child was dead. Weraised our hands, sobbing, to indicate it. The chanter ceased hispsalm. Our David was dead!
The most terrible thing was the mother's cry! She lay, stretched out,as if she had fainted; but when the chanter leaned over and closed thelips, saying "_Amen!_" she rose, lifted the little one, looked at him,then, raising him above her head, began to run toward the door, cryingout with a heart-rending voice:
"Baruch! Baruch! save our child!"
She was mad, Fritz! In this last terror I stopped her, and, by mainforce, took from her the little body which she was carrying away. AndSorle, throwing her arms round her, with ceaseless groanings, MotherLanche, the chanter, Safel, all led her away.
I remained alone, and I heard them go down, leading away my daughter.
How can a man endure such sorrows?
I put David back in the bed and covered him, because of the openwindows. I knew that he was dead, but it seemed to me as if he wouldbe cold. I looked at him for a long time, so as to retain thatbeautiful face in my heart.
It was all heart-rending--all! I felt as if my bowels were torn fromme, and in my madness I accused the Lord, and said:
"I am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of Thy wrath.Surely against me is He turned. My flesh and my skin hath He made old:He hath broken my bones. He hath set me in dark places. Also when Icry and shout He shutteth out my prayer. He was unto me as a lion insecret places!"
Thus I walked about, groaning and even blaspheming. But God in Hismercy forgave me; He knew that it was not myself that spoke, but mydespair.
At last I sat down, the others came back. Sorle sat next to me insilence. Safel said to me:
"Zeffen has gone to the rabbi's with Esdras."
I covered my head without answering him.
Then some women came with old Lanche; I took Sorle by the hand, and wewent into the large room, without speaking a word.
The mere sight of this room, where the two little brothers had playedso long, made my tears come afresh, and Sorle, Safel, and I wepttogether. The house was full of people; it might have been eighto'clock, and they knew already that we had a child dead.