“Ah! my good sir,” replied the miller, “one lad can spoil many others. Fine, strong young fellows have been running away from all the villages hereabouts. And now, alas, my Stephen! God knows what is the matter with these young fellows. Wallenstein is their idol, their ideal of all that is splendid. Many have been running away to him for a long time and some of them are now officers. Those stories about him pass from mouth to mouth and attract those who are not bad at heart. Tell them he is a Catholic and the leader of the Catholic army and they will reply: ‘We care nothing about our religion, what he wants is men of courage.’ For several days Stephen has been talking with my daughter Elizabeth. He said to her: ‘Am I to wait here until Wallenstein comes, and then get treated like a mangy dog who is clipped and has to lie behind the stove, while everything is going topsy turvy without?’ And Elizabeth replied: ‘Even if they come into our neighborhood and the villages around us, they will not find us here in the valley; and even if they should, we can run into the forest and stay until they are gone.’ Stephen answered: ‘You do not understand what you are talking about, Elizabeth. Once the Wallensteinians are here in the villages they will quickly find the way to the mills and farms. I tell you they have keen noses. There are many of them who have lost all they had in the war, and they are going to make it up with whatever they can lay their hands on here, and then, I tell you, when we have lost everything you will be glad to see Stephen coming home with his pockets full of gold pieces.’ This is the way the boy talked; and when Elizabeth told me about it, it made me sad and anxious. ‘Take the boy to Schoneick,’ said my wife to me yesterday, ‘and keep him there. Perhaps he will gradually forget all about the war.’ He must have overheard her, for when I was making ready to do so to-day he took the horse out of the stall, mounted, and rode off. Alas! I shall never see him again, my Stephen, my handsome boy!” “Your misfortune touches me deeply, old father,” said the Prince, “but how could Stephen engage in such a foolish project? We are not at war with any one. Even if the troops should come here, they would come as friends and harm no one.” “Ah, my gracious Prince,” replied the miller, “the good God thus far has protected this region from the calamity of war, but what about other parts of the country? You well know that even the hereditary Prince is not safe in the capital, but has to live in a fortress. If troops were to come into the country to-day, they would treat burghers and peasants alike without caring whether they were enemies or friends. That is what I say, but you, gracious Prince, of course, know more about it than I.”