The justice of the Lord is shown in all things; when the living neglect their duties toward the dead, they perish. I have often remembered these things when it was too late, so that I think of them only with grief. XVIII DEATH OF LITTLE DAVID The most painful of all my recollections, Fritz, is the way in which that terrible disease came to our family. On the twelfth of March we heard of a large number of men, women, and children who were dying. We dared not listen; we said: "No one in our house is sick, the Lord watches over us!" After David had come, after supper, to cuddle in my arms, with his little hand on my shoulder, I looked at him; he seemed very drowsy, but children are always sleepy at night. Esdras was already asleep, and Sâfel had just bidden us good-night. At last Zeffen took the child, and we all went to bed. That night the Russians did not fire; perhaps the typhus was among them, too. I do not know. About midnight, when by God's goodness we were asleep, I heard a terrible cry. I listened, and Sorlé said to me: "It is Zeffen!" I rose at once, and tried to light the lamp; but I was so much agitated that I could not find anything. Sorlé struck a light, I drew on my pantaloons and ran to the door. But I was hardly in the passage-way when Zeffen came out of her room like an insane person, with her long black hair all loose. "The child!" she screamed. Sorlé followed me. We went in, we leaned over the cradle. The two children seemed to be sleeping; Esdras all rosy, David as white as snow. At first I saw nothing, I was so frightened, but at last I took up David to waken him; I shook him, and called, "David!" And then we first saw that his eyes were open and fixed. "Wake him! wake him!" cried Zeffen. Sorlé took my hands and said: "Quick! make a fire! heat some water!" And we laid him across the bed, shaking him and calling him by name. Little Esdras began to cry. "Light a fire!" said Sorlé again to me. "And, Zeffen, be quiet! It does no good to cry so! Quick, quick, a fire!" But Zeffen cried out incessantly, "My poor child!" "He will soon be warm again," said Sorlé; "only, Moses, make haste and dress yourself, and run for Doctor Steinbrenner." She was pale and more alarmed than we, but this brave woman never lost her presence of mind or her courage. She had made a fire, and the fagots were crackling in the chimney. I ran to get my cloak, and went down, thinking to myself: "The Lord have mercy upon us! If the child dies I shall not survive him! No, he is the one that I love best, I could not survive him!" For you know, Fritz, that the child who is most unhappy, or in the greatest danger, is always the one that we love best; he needs us the most; we forget the others. The Lord has ordered it so, doubtless for the greatest good. I was already running in the street.