“How many would have done that!”

“They ought to have prayed for a blessing on us, and to have gone out to meet the generals and officers with tokens of honor and joy, and the wearied soldiers with refreshments.  Instead of this, the poison of party-spirit destroys the fairest and happiest moments of my life, won by so many cares and efforts.”

“It is party-spirit, but you will only increase it by the punishment of this man.  Those who think with him will proclaim you a tyrant and a barbarian; they will consider him a martyr, who has suffered for the good cause; and even those of the other opinion, who are now his opponents, will see in him only their fellow-citizen, will pity him, and, while they confess your justice, will yet feel that you have proceeded too severely.”

“I have listened to you too much already,—­now, away with you!”

“Hear only this.  Remember, this is the most unheard-of thing that could befall this man, this family.  You have had no reason to be edified by the good will of the master of the house; but the mistress has anticipated all your wishes, and the children have regarded you as their uncle.  With this single blow, you will forever destroy the peace and happiness of this dwelling.  Indeed, I may say, that a bomb falling into the house would not have occasioned greater desolation.  I have so often admired your self-command, count:  give me this time opportunity to adore you.  A warrior is worthy of honor, who considers himself a guest in the house of an enemy; but here there is no enemy, only a mistaking man.  Control yourself, and you will acquire an everlasting fame.”

“That would be odd,” replied the count, with a smile.

“Merely natural,” continued the interpreter:  “I have not sent the wife and children to your feet, because I know you detest such scenes; but I will depict to you this wife and these children, how they will thank you.  I will depict them to you conversing all their lives of the battle of Bergen, and of your magnanimity on this day, relating it to their children, and children’s children, and inspiring even strangers with their own interest for you:  an act of this kind can never perish.”

“But you do not hit my weak side yet, interpreter.  About posthumous fame I am not in the habit of thinking; that is for others, not for me:  but to do right at the moment, not to neglect my duty, not to prejudice my honor,—­that is my care.  We have already had too many words; now go—­and receive the thanks of the thankless, whom I spare.”

The interpreter, surprised and moved by this unexpectedly favorable issue, could not restrain his tears, and would have kissed the count’s hands.  The count motioned him off, and said severely and seriously, “You know I cannot bear such things.”  And with these words he went into the ante-room to attend to his pressing affairs, and hear the claims of so many expectant persons.  So the matter was disposed of; and the next morning we celebrated, with the remnants of the yesterday’s sweetmeats, the passing over of an evil through the threatenings of which we had happily slept.