My sister so often longed
to catch sight of the oily satiny sheen of the river's light in
unsuspected places that she would drag me off to note her
discoveries. She wanted all the varying sights of the Spree, which
showed itself at the ends of alleys, or in courtyards or behind
houses, suddenly to appear to her, so that she might have the right
to first name her discovery."
He was silent awhile, deep in memories of the past. Then he said:
"If I have lingered over these childish reminiscences it is because
I have not my Blondchen any longer. On one of our wandering
excursions we were caught in a heavy shower of rain, and became wet
through. My sister was taken ill with rheumatism, and eight days
afterward we buried her in the churchyard."
The mother soon followed Blondchen. Sorrow over the child, and
homesickness, combined with weak health, proved too great a strain.
Wilhelm remained alone with the dispirited and sorrowful old father,
whom he never left except for his three years' military service in
the field. Then the father, to shorten the time of separation,
accompanied the army (in spite of his seventy years) as an ambulance
assistant. The following year he died, and Wilhelm was left alone in
the world.
Loulou was not wanting in heart, and she had as much feeling as it
is proper for an educated German girl to show.
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