The decision was made, but there was still time to carry it out. Meinhardis still had to serve for a few weeks until his successor could fill his place. Meanwhile, preparations were being made for the departure. Officers came, horse dealers and landowners from the surrounding area came and were shown the stable. In the courtyard, the horses were shown to them. At a walk, at a trot, at a gallop. A riding horse was to be turned into a carriage horse. Another was being trained for races. Wordlessly Meinhardis patted them on the neck. "Old boy," he said softly and pulled one last piece of sugar out of his pocket. Monsieur Girod opened the big gate without resistance when they were led away one by one. The last oats for the sparrows in the courtyard were scattered. Only the horse that belonged to the regiment still stood lonely in the empty stable. Its anxious neighing echoed from the high walls.
The orderly—the soldier who came every day with the regimental order—brought Meinhardis a big yellow envelope on which was written "Night ride" in German letters in fine official handwriting. Underneath the note, "To open at eight 15 P. M." And farther, "All gentlemen of the regiment have to be on horseback, equipped for field marching, in front of the lodgings of Lieutenant Colonel von Meinhardis at eight P. M."
It was his last service. He looked thoughtfully at the thick envelope. He signed the order-as he had done for thirty years-for the last time. The orderly stood at attention—as he did every day—turned around and was "dismissed" after a nod. Monsieur Girod opened the little door for him almost with a bow.
In the evening, the large yard was full of horses. The officers stood beside them, holding the reins. The conversation was subdued. A quiet excitement lay over everything. The horses were just as unaccustomed to stepping out into the darkness at this time of day instead of standing in the warm stable or lying down to rest in the straw as the gentlemen were unaccustomed to now not spending the evening at home or in the casino with a glass of wine.
Meinhardis moved to the window and called in more confident voice, "Captain von Allersleben."
A "yes, sir" came from the darkness. A sound of clattering hooves, mounting, and a short click were heard. Then the captain took his marching orders,
"Country road via Montjury. Then turn South-East, leave the forest on the left, pass a farm. Four milestones to the East, Sergeant Reichelt is standing and taking a report. More there."
One more "Yes, sir," and the Captain von Allersleben rides off calmly. He is still in possession of his electric torch, his map, his compass. But this all will be taken from him by Sergeant Reichelt when he finds him; he will be given another route of march and send on without anything. He may be able to wander around all night and be glad when he finds his way back home to the barracks at dawn.
In twenty minutes, Meinhardis dismissed the next one. Gradually, one by one, they withdrew. Manuela heard the hooves of the single horses slipping on the wet stones past her window. She knew how many there were and counted. Then she followed them in her mind's eye. There was marsh where they could get stuck. There were ditches. There was bog where they could get stuck. There were ditches. Roots that the horses tripped over, branches that tore the riders' caps off their heads. Riding in the dark in the forest. One could fall, and no one could find him. Were the horses afraid? Certainly. Now and then they neighed in the yard. Lela could hear that. She could also hear when Dad called out the names and gave the order in firm beautiful voice. Now it was the turn of the last one, then Dad could go to sleep. Because Dad didn't ride along when he started. She also heard Dad in the heavy boots entered his room—it was next to hers. She heard his footsteps on the stairs and then in the yard. Shortly after, the gate creaked once more.
This time Monsieur Girod really saluted by putting his hand to his cap. Meinhardis rode out with his head bowed. In the nocturnal street, the horse's steps sounded tiredly. They had no lead, they were going straight—somewhere. At first, lanterns waved next to him, then the track was soft. High chimneys of factories smoked at night, a blast furnace glowed. Then nothing more. The cold wind broke through the willows along the road. Then the horse took a leap and woke up the rider. Easy, easy! Oha! Don't be nervous, old boy, you'll be in the barracks tomorrow, and then you can always sleep at night, always!