"Dead!" said poor Fritz, with a cry of grief; "he is really dead!" and he bent sorrowfully over the body of the fallen officer.

"But I must take him away!" he cried, with decision. "He must not stay here; at least I must be able to lead his poor old father and mother to his grave. How frightful to see his kind, beautiful eyes staring thus!"

he said, shuddering; "but where is he wounded? The head is unhurt. Ah!

here in the breast. His hand is pressed upon it; the blood still trickles. But I cannot look at his eyes!" he cried; "those dead, gla.s.sy eyes, which in life were so kind and merry!"

He bent down and laid his hand on the head of the slain, that he might gently close the eyes of his former playmate.

"G.o.d in heaven!" he cried, suddenly. "He lives, his eyelids moved!"

He folded his hands and gazed anxiously at the face before him.

The eyes really moved, they closed slowly, then they opened again; for one moment a ray of light seemed to light them up, then they grew staring and gla.s.sy as before.

Fritz Deyke sank upon his knees.

"Great G.o.d in heaven!" he said in a trembling voice; "if Thou wilt never in my whole life hear a prayer from me again, yet help me now to save my poor master!"

He seized his flask, opened the mouth of the wounded man, and poured into it a little brandy.

Then he anxiously awaited the result.

An almost imperceptible shiver pa.s.sed through the young officer's limbs; his eyes lived for a moment, and looked inquiringly at the young peasant; his lips were slightly parted; a red foam appeared upon them, and a deep sigh heaved his breast.

Then the eyelids closed, and the face lost the horrible starkness of death. But no further sign of life appeared.

"Now to get him to the town!" cried Fritz, raising the young officer in his strong arms and bearing him to his horse.

He climbed with difficulty into the saddle, still holding the motionless form; then he supported it before him with his right hand, whilst he held the bridle with the other.

He rode quickly across the fields to the town.

The squares broken by the dragoons, garde du corps, and cuira.s.siers, and the battery taken by Rittmeister von Einem made the last resistance on the side of the Prussians before they retreated entirely.

The Hanoverian central brigade pressed onwards, and soon the whole battle-field almost to Gotha was in possession of the Hanoverian troops.

The army, unfit to march, had made the most surprising, though alas!

aimless advances--the army unfit to fight, had fought--and won!

During the whole day the king and his suite had remained on the hill near Merxleben. He had not left the saddle for a moment. He had asked short questions about the fighting, which the gentlemen of his suite had answered; no information had come from the general in command, for the battle was fought by individual officers and their divisions, who would no longer retreat, and who had seized on the offensive, each where he thought he could act most decisively and effectively.

The king saw nothing; he heard the bullets hiss past him, the thunder of the cannon around him; but the varied living picture was wanting that enchains the mind with trembling excitement.

He was as motionless as a bronze statue; his face betrayed no trace of his inward emotion; his only inquiry was, could his soldiers see him?

At last the adjutant-general galloped up the hill, and brought the news that the enemy's centre was pierced, and the cuira.s.sier guards who had been held in reserve behind the king's position, rushed past with a loud "Hurrah!" to their royal leader, as they started across the plain in pursuit of the enemy. Finally, a staff officer arrived from the commanding general, announcing that the victory was decided in favour of the Hanoverian arms. Then the king drew a deep breath and said, "I will dismount."

A groom hastened to him; the king got off his horse. All the gentlemen around drew near him to express their congratulations.

"Many brave and faithful hearts have ceased to beat! G.o.d grant them eternal peace!" said the king, solemnly.

He stood for a moment in silent thought.

"I am somewhat exhausted," he then said; "is there anything to drink?"

Those nearest to him seized their flasks; they were empty.

"There is some sherry in our carriage," said Meding.

"And I have a travelling cup," cried Count Platen, taking a silver cup from a case.

Meding ran to the carriage, and soon returned with half a bottle of sherry and a little wheaten bread. He poured some wine into the small cup, and handed it to the king. He drank it, and ate a morsel of bread.

"Now I am strong again," he cried; "would to G.o.d that each one of my soldiers could say the same."

"I will move about a little," he then said, and taking Meding's arm he paced slowly to and fro, on the top of the hill.

"G.o.d has given our arms the victory," he said with emotion; "what is next to be done?"

"Your majesty," said Meding, "this n.o.ble blood will all have been shed in vain, if we do not march at once to Gotha, cross the railway, and endeavour to reach Bavaria."

The king sighed.

"Oh! that I could place myself at the head of my army and lead it onwards! They will make difficulties, raise obstacles. You know how many obstacles the general staff has already raised in the council of war."

He stood still, thinking deeply.

"Your majesty must command a protocol to be drawn up, that these obstacles may at least be stated in black and white," said Meding.

"It shall be done!" cried the king with energy. "You shall draw it up.

I am answerable to history for what occurs, and for what is neglected."

An aide-de-camp from the general in command galloped up.

"General von Arentschildt begs your majesty at once to take up your head-quarters in Langensalza."

"To horse!" cried the king.

The aide-de-camp hurried away, the horses were brought, and the royal party moved down from the hill across the battle-field.

The king was grave and calm as he rode towards the town. Heaps of dead bodies lay on the road near the mill, and the horses' hoofs were reddened by the blood which stood on the ground in great pools. The king saw it not. He heard the "hurrahs" of the soldiers he met, and the loud cheers with which they greeted him; no pride of victory kindled in his n.o.ble face; he sat on his horse cold and silent; he thought of the slain, who had bought him this victory with their lives, he thought of the future, and with anxious care he asked himself whether this victory would yield the fruit desired, and extricate the army from the dangerous position into which it had been led.

The royal head-quarters were established in the Schutzhaus at Langensalza.

Scarcely was the king a little refreshed, when he ordered the general in command, and the chief of the general staff to be summoned, and he invited General von Brandis, Count Platen, Count Ingelheim, with Lex and Meding, to be present at the council of war.

At about nine in the evening the officers a.s.sembled in the king's room.

The king urged an immediate march upon Gotha, but the general in command and the chief of the staff declared that the army was in such a state of exhaustion it could not march. In vain General Brandis pointed out that even for a tired army a short march of two hours and then excellent quarters in Gotha, was better than a bivouac in the fields without proper food; the chief of the general staff declared the march to be absolutely impossible, and the general in command refused to be responsible for its consequences. Both these gentlemen asked earnestly for permission to leave the council, as their presence with the troops was absolutely necessary.