Rather than suffer this wrong they agreed to restore it to its place, and, let it go to destruction upon its own terms.

March painfully rebuilt it where he had found it, and they went to bed with a bad conscience to worse dreams.
He remembered, before he slept, the hour of his youth when he was in Mayence before, and was so care free that he had heard with impersonal joy two young American voices speaking English in the street under his window.

One of them broke from the common talk with a gay burlesque of pathos in the line: "Oh heavens! she cried, my Heeding country save!" and then with a laughing good-night these unseen, unknown spirits of youth parted and departed.

Who were they, and in what different places, with what cares or ills, had their joyous voices grown old, or fallen silent for evermore?
It was a moonlight night, March remembered, and he remembered how he wished he were out in it with those merry fellows.
He nursed the memory and the wonder in his dreaming thought, and he woke early to other voices under his window.

But now the voices, though young, were many and were German, and the march of feet and the stamp of hooves kept time with their singing.