I sought further intelligence from him concerning Ernst, but he knew nothing more. I took him with me and handed him over to an officer that lay here. I considered it to be my duty not to discard the dirty, but perhaps useful, tool. With thoughts of Ernst in my breast, with the consciousness that my only son was in arms against the Fatherland, I was not in the mood to unburden my heart to others; and besides, it was evidently too early. Now, since force yet speaks, the good-will of the oppressed cannot be won. I turned back to my sister's, and was much delighted to meet Hartriegel, the so-called forest professor, who had been sent by the administration to inspect the forests. CHAPTER X. With Hartriegel and my brother-in-law, who had again in a measure regained his composure, I roamed through the great forest district; and this refreshed my soul, though the terrible thoughts about Ernst accompanied me by day and by night like a restless ghost. It was the night of the twenty-sixth of October. Hartriegel remained in the town. I had stayed with my sister; a storm was raging that seemed to portend the destruction of the world. Dogs howled, the cattle in the stalls bellowed unceasingly; there seemed a fearful wailing in the rattling of the thunder, and the turmoil and uproar of the elements. We heard sounds like the splitting of trees, continually nearer and nearer. We all sat together in the room, keeping watch, and my brother-in-law exclaimed, "It is just so! The trees even will clear out forthwith. They will not be German." As he said this, a tree behind the house cracked and fell over on the roof: the slates rattled, the timbers bent, and the storm now raged through the house, which we could not forsake; for out of doors the tempest raged so wildly, that it seemed as if everything that stood upright would be stricken to the ground. We waited until daylight, and at early morning a messenger arrived who came to tell me that Julius must depart, and to ask whether I would not bring Martha home with me. The messenger also showed us an "extra," that announced the capture of Metz, and the capitulation of 173,000 men. When my brother-in-law heard this, he exclaimed, "We are betrayed!" tore down the epaulettes, and the portrait of Bazaine, under whom he had served, from the wall, threw them on the floor, and trampled them under his feet. The messenger told us the roads were impassable; every where there lay trunks of trees, and near the house a slain stag. He, a very credulous man, had spent the night at the Oak of Saint Arbogast, and with pious fervor praised the saint who had protected him. After he had partaken of refreshments, he escorted my brother-in-law, who soon came back with the dead stag. We were separated from the world, and my sister rejoiced that she still had something for us to eat.