But I am not afraid to die. I have wronged no
man or woman; I have been my own enemy. What shall I say, Jack? Ah,
yes! God have mercy on my soul. And this sudden coldness, this sudden
ease from pain--is death!"
There was a flutter of the eyelids, a sigh, and this poor flotsam, this
drift-wood which had never known a harbor in all its years, this friend
of mine, this inseparable comrade--passed out. He knew all about it
now.
There were hot tears in my eyes as I stood up and gazed down at this
mystery called death. And while I did so, a hand, horny and hard,
closed over mine. The innkeeper, with blinking eyes, stood at my side.
"Ah, Herr," he said, "who would not die like that?"
And we buried him on the hillside, just as the sun swept aside the rosy
curtain of dawn. The wind, laden with fresh morning perfumes, blew up
joyously from the river. From where I stood I could see the drab walls
of the barracks. The windows sparkled and flashed as the gray mists
sailed heavenward and vanished. The hill with its long grasses
resembled a green sea. The thick forests across the river, almost
black at the water's edge, turned a fainter and more delicate hue as
they receded, till, far away, they looked like mottled glass.
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