Her dress indicated poverty,
and her face was pale and sunken, but her eyes were lit up with a
noble enthusiasm. "The wedding-rings are exchanged here?" she asked.
"Yes, here."
She quickly drew two from her finger, and handed them to M.
Werkmeister. "Take them," she cried. "One of these rings belongs to
me, the other I drew from the finger of my dear husband. Ten years
have elapsed since then; I have always worn them, and, although I
have often suffered great privations, I could never part with my
only treasure. But to-day I do so joyously. Give me my iron rings!"
She took those handed her, and placed them on her finger. "Farewell,
sir," she said. "These will be my daughter's heirloom, and I know
she will rejoice over them." She had not yet crossed the threshold
when another lady appeared, and another, and more followed in rapid
succession. The newspapers, containing the request, had been read in
the whole city; all the married women hastened to comply with it,
and to lay down their wedding-rings on the altar of the fatherland.
Leonora stood as if fascinated by the beautiful and soul-stirring
scene. With radiant eyes she gazed at the ladies who came and
received with joyous pride iron rings in exchange for gold ones--at
the young women, who, blushing and with tearful eyes, gave up their
first love-pledge--at the old matrons who came totteringly to
exchange the golden reminiscences of the days of their youth for
iron ornaments.
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