Chapter Nineteen

What italicized is what I'm unsure about.

     Bärwalde was preparing for the harvest, which, as a result of the burning heat of the last week, had started much earlier this time than in previous years.  Everything was diligent activity.  Now in the evening Borowski and Fritz always came to the table only when the others had long since eaten.  But the Hutemach had cared for them well, and Fritz consumed his big green glassful of thick milk and his sauce, which he had honestly earned for himself, with true voracity.

     The Hutemach stayed with him at the table.  She could do it with a clear conscience because he had cared for her old man.  In addition to Else Warsow, his brother, the privy councillor from Berlin, stayed in Bärwalde.  He always spent the summer months on his home property.  Then in the evening, the two old men sat together in the cozy living room, drank a bottle of old red wine, and discussed questions of politics and public life.

     The privy councillor loved to explain his opinion a little long-windedly and in a refined manner of speech; the Bärwalder mostly just listened, his head propt up in his left hand, with his right stroking his small, not-very-well-kept beard; only now and then he threw in a remark.

     It also happened that the two bitterly argued.  Then the Bärwalder did not give up easily because he had a hard head.  But the conciliatory and more worldly-wise privy councillor soon relented again, and when the friendly terms were quickly restored, then it was his gain.

     So everything went peacefully and smoothly in Bärwalde, and everyone felt well in the calm of the quiet property, whether he stayed there for work or for relaxation.

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Until one day the first alarming news interrupted the calm of the idyllic life.

     But still, no one really believed in the war.  "It is only a reminder," said Pastor Teichgräber in his Sunday sermon, "God knocks at the door, but His goodness and mercy let the specter once again pass over our people."