"I must wait and suffer here; I am
doomed to remain a boy while my school-fellows have become men."
"Hush," said his mother, "an idea strikes me; we may, after all, be
somewhat useful to our country, though we are unable to furnish
soldiers for it. There is a great deal to be done besides fighting.
The king's manifesto says expressly: 'Great sacrifices will be
required of all classes.' Well, then, my dear ones, let us make
sacrifices for the fatherland and our king!"
"What sacrifices do you mean, mother?" asked the invalid. "What have
we, if we cannot furnish any soldiers?"
"We have our labor," exclaimed his wife, with pride. "When there is
war, and battles are fought, there are wounded soldiers, I suppose?"
"Of course, and cripples, too," said the invalid, pointing to his
wooden leg.
"And the wounded are brought home and conveyed to the hospitals, are
they not? Who is to attend to them, to dress their wounds, give them
food, and nurse them? We women will do so! That is our task! I will
nurse the first wounded brought to Potsdam. The first maimed
soldier, however, whom I meet at the hospital, and whose right leg
has been amputated as that of my dear husband, we shall take to our
house. You may nurse him here, old man; console him and show him
that he may live quite happily, though with but one leg, and that
wife and children will love their husband and father no less
ardently, provided he is a true man, and has a courageous heart.
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