In reflective silence she was puzzling over the Marne enigma, unable to
understand how it was that the Germans had not conquered the ground
on which she was treading; and in order to explain this failure, she
resorted to the most absurd suppositions.
One especially engrossing matter was increasing her sadness. Her sons.
. . . What would become of her sons! Don Marcelo had never told her of
his meeting with Captain von Hartrott. He was maintaining absolute
silence about his sojourn at Villeblanche. He had no desire to recount
his adventures at the battle of the Marne. What was the use of saddening
his loved ones with such miseries? . . . He simply told Dona Luisa, who
was alarmed about the possible fate of the castle, that they would not
be able to go there for many years to come, because the hostilities had
rendered it uninhabitable. A covering of zinc sheeting had been
substituted for the ancient roof in order to prevent further injury from
wind and rain to the wrecked interior. Later on, after peace had been
declared, they would think about its renovation. Just now it had too
many inhabitants. And all the ladies, including Dona Elena, shuddered in
imagining the thousands of buried bodies forming their ghastly circle
around the building. This vision made Frau von Hartrott again groan,
"Ay, my sons!"
Finally, for humanity's sake, her brother-in-law set her mind at rest
regarding the fate of one of them, the Captain von Hartrott.
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