I am in my own way a
soldier of the country; for I devote to it my skill and labor.'"
"That is true," said M. Martin, in confusion, "and that you may not
believe me to be a worse man than I really am, I must tell you that
I do not take pay for these jobs, but that I have offered to make
twelve uniforms for our soldiers free of charge. I have nothing else
to offer; hence, I give all I can!"
"And there is no nobler gift!" exclaimed Madame von Lutzow. "You are
a good man; pray give me your hand and let me thank you." She
offered her hand to the tailor, and he put his broad, cold hand
timidly into it.
"Oh, now I fear nothing," said Madame von Lutzow, joyfully; "as you
are so good a patriot, you will fulfil our prayer, and make a
uniform for this young man for next Sunday."
"But I have told you already that I cannot," replied M. Martin,
almost tearfully--"I cannot finish it."
"And I reply: Try, sir! I am sure you will finish it. For, take into
consideration, dear M. Martin, that your own reputation is at stake,
and that all the brave volunteers would execrate your name if it
should be your fault that their favorite and celebrated bard could
not attend the Sunday's ceremony."
"How so? What bard do you allude to, madame?"
"I allude to the great poet who stands before you--Theodore Korner."
"Ah, this is Theodore Korner!" exclaimed the tailor, "The poet who
wrote 'Toni,' the splendid comedy that I saw last winter at our
theatre?"
"The same, my dear sir," said Madame von Lutzow, while Korner nodded
to the tailor with a pleasant smile.
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