Maria gasped in pain and dug her fingers into Georg's shoulders every few paces. The slightest movement was agony for her, and her ordeal was made all the more unbearable by the the Captain having to stumble about in almost total darkness. He tried his best not to jostle her, but he had already begun to feel the warm wet seep and spread through his jacket and knew there was no way he could slow down. It felt as though he could have easily been walking for seconds or hours. His sense of time was completely lost. All he knew was that the lights of the houses seemed barely closer than they were before. Suddenly his foot struck a rock, causing him to trip and nearly fall over. Maria threw her head back and cried out in such pain that he knew he had to stop.
" Put me down," she begged, sobbing. Georg slowly lay her on the ground. He took off his jacket and rolled it up, tucking it beneath her head as a pillow. He flicked open his lighter. The single flame illuminated her face, distorted in pain, covered in sweat and almost completely drained of colour. Her neck veins were distended. Georg was at a loss. If they didn't get help right away she would die, no question. But he knew there was no way she could withstand anymore pain. Perhaps he should leave her here and run to get help... Right then he heard the distant roar of a motor. He looked up and saw three pairs of headlights glide towards the cottages. They stopped outside the houses. The slam of car doors echoed throughout the vast open plain, and he heard the unmistakable barks of Alsatians-- and saw the familiar silhouettes of uniformed men, stark against the lights coming from the windows, dashing any hopes of them getting help there.
Were they here for him? He didn't know, but there was little doubt that it was no longer safe for them to be here. He softly explained the situation to Maria. He would have carry her over the hills instead. He leaned over Maria and was about to lift her up when she resisted.
"It won't help... I'm in far too much pain... please... I'd rather... here... I can't-- I can't-- I'm sorry--" her eyes filled with tears. Georg tried to coax her but he knew she was right. She simply would not be able to bear the pain. And carrying her over the mountains would be a futile exercise. It would be a three, even four hour trek in the wilderness. Maria would be dead long before they reached Switzerland.
"I'll stay with you then. I'll stay with you until--" he paused.
" They'll discover you... you can't-- you have seven children, I--" Maria stopped, trying desperately to catch her breath.
" I can't leave you here."
" Tell.. children.. I love them..." she whispered. Her chest heaved.
" And I--" In the flickering light from the cigarette lighter Georg stared at that beautiful freckled face with those brilliant blue eyes that always seemed to be brimming with spirit, now beginning to dull and glaze over. He reached out with his one free hand and stroked that golden cap of hair, cropped in that silly pageboy haircut that he had come to adore. "I'm sorry."
He snapped his cigarette lighter close, the darkness erasing her face. And got up and ran.
A day later, when he had reunited with his children across the border, he told them that Maria had been badly cut by glass but that they were taken in by a kindly farmer and his wife who managed to stitch her up, and she was on the mend, and it was probably safer for her to remain there.
He spent the next seven years trying to block out the memory of the night he left his little governess in a darkened field, alone and dying.
It was the most cruel thing he'd ever done. But also the most necessary. That was what war was.