Fritz took off his cap, waved it in the air and opened his mouth wide, as if to shout the Hurrah! with which the l.u.s.ty young peasants made the meadows near Blechow or the large room in the inn echo again, but this Hurrah! did not come; the mouth closed again, the cap flew into a corner, only a thankful, happy expression replaced the melancholy look his face had hitherto worn. He had heard a sound of life from the lips of his dear lieutenant, he now hoped to save him.

"Well, well," said the surgeon cheerfully, "for the present you can only keep him quiet, and give him some red wine as often as possible, to repair the loss of blood; to-morrow I will try to extract the bullet."

He departed, accompanied by old Lohmeier.

Fritz, Deyke, and Margaret remained with the patient, and watched his breathing; with the greatest punctuality the young girl handed a spoonful of wine to the cuira.s.sier, who poured it carefully into the officer's mouth.

Old Lohmeier brought Fritz some cold supper and a draught of his own beer. The young man hastily despatched the supper, his appet.i.te was as good as ever, the beer he declined.

"I could not keep awake," he said.

"Now go to bed, Margaret," said her father, "we will tend the wounded man; sitting up at night will tire you."

"What is the loss of one night's sleep, father," said Margaret, "when a man's life is in danger? Let me stay, he might want something."

Her father did not gainsay her, and his look of satisfaction acknowledged she was right. Fritz Deyke said nothing, but he raised his large true-hearted blue eyes with an expression of grat.i.tude to the young girl's face.

Lohmeier seated himself in an armchair and soon nodded; the young people remained near the bed, and scrupulously carried out the surgeon's orders, watching with pleasure every fresh sign of life in their patient, sometimes a deep breath, sometimes a slight flush pa.s.sing over his pale face.

For a long time they sat in silence.

"You are a good girl," Fritz said at last, when she had just handed him a spoonful of wine, and he held out his hand to her in hearty friendship; "how thankful my lieutenant's mother will be to you, for what you have done for her son."

"Ah! his poor mother!" she said with emotion, responding to the warm pressure of his hand, whilst a tear shone in her clear eyes; "is she a great lady?"

Fritz Deyke imparted to her in low whispers all about the lieutenant's family, and the old house in Blechow, and he told her of beautiful Wendland, with its rich pastures and dark fir woods, and then of his own home, of his father, and the farm and acres; and the young girl listened silently and attentively to the soldier's words. The pictures they presented were so natural, so clear and so bright, and they were all gilded by the poetic shimmer surrounding the brave cuira.s.sier, who had saved his playmate in the b.l.o.o.d.y battle-field, and who now watched so anxiously over the life still so precarious.

The night pa.s.sed quietly in old Lohmeier's house. Loud, merry voices rang without, from the soldiers quartered in the town, and from the bivouacs, and when the old brewer sometimes woke he glanced benevolently at the young soldier and the wounded officer, whose presence prevented his house from being otherwise occupied, for all the troops had respected the words Fritz had written on the door. No one had knocked, but all had pa.s.sed it in silence.

The morning of the 28th June dawned brilliantly, as if to greet the victorious soldiers in their cantonments. Already all was movement at head-quarters. The king in a proclamation to the army had expressed in a few affectionate words his thanks for their exertions and courage.

Then the burial of the dead took place. They were interred, so far as they could be found on the battle-field, in the churchyard of Langensalza.

The king with his suite stood near the open graves, whilst the clergyman of the little town, in a few simple words, commended to eternal rest the warriors united in death, Prussians and Hanoverians; and the king, who could not see the brave men who lay at his feet, true soldiers of duty and of their rightful lord, stooped down in silence, seized a handful of earth, and with his own royal hand strewed the first dust upon the loyal dead.

"May the earth lay lightly on you!" whispered the king, and in a still lower voice he added, "Happy are they who rest in peace!"

Then he folded his hands, repeated the Lord's Prayer, and taking the arm of the crown prince, returned to the Schutzhaus.

On his way back, groups of soldiers who stood about greeted him with loud "Hurrahs!" and cries of "Forwards! forwards!"

The king bent down his head, a sorrowful expression appeared in his face.

As soon as he reached his room, he sent for the general in command. He was with the troops, and an hour pa.s.sed before he entered the king's apartment.

"Are the troops ready to march?" asked the king.

"No, your majesty! The army is done for, quite done for!" cried the general, striking his hand on his breast. "There are no provisions forthcoming, and the ammunition is scarcely sufficient for the first round."

"Then in your opinion, what is to be done?" asked the king, calmly and coldly.

"Your majesty!" cried Arentschildt, "the general staff is unanimous in declaring a capitulation to be unavoidable."

"Wherefore?" asked the king.

"The general staff is of opinion that the army cannot march," cried the general; "besides, overwhelming forces are drawing up on every side; from the north the outposts have sent in word that General Manteuffel is surrounding us; in the south General Vogel von Falckenstein has collected troops from Eisenach, and has cut off the road to Gotha."

"That would have been impossible had we marched on yesterday evening,"

said the king.

"An advance was impossible, as the general staff declared!" cried General von Arentschildt.

The king was silent.

"Your majesty!" cried the general, striking his breast; "it is hard for me to say the word--capitulate! but there is nothing else to be done. I beg your majesty's permission to commence arrangements with General von Falckenstein."

"I will send you my orders in an hour," said the king; "leave your adjutant here."

And he turned away.

The general left the room.

"It must be so!" cried the king sorrowfully. "The blood of all these brave men has flowed in vain. In vain has been all the pain, the anguish, and the toil--and why in vain? Because my eyes are dark; because I cannot lead my valiant troops as my forefathers have done, as the brave Brunswick--oh! it is hard, very hard!"

The king's face had a dark expression, he clenched his teeth, and raised his sightless eyes to heaven.

Then the anger vanished from his countenance, peace took its place, a sorrowful but gentle smile came to his lips. He folded his hands, and said in a low tone:

"My G.o.d and Saviour bore for me the crown of thorns; for me He shed His blood upon the cross. O Lord, not my will but Thine be done!"

He touched the golden bell which had been brought from his cabinet at Herrenhausen.

The groom of the chambers entered.

"I beg Count Platen, General Brandis, Count Ingelheim, with Herr Lex and Herr Meding, to come to me at once."

In a short time these gentlemen entered the room.

"You know the position in which we are placed, gentlemen," said the king; "we are surrounded by the enemy in superior numbers, and the general in command declares that the troops cannot march from exhaustion, that they are without either provisions or ammunition. He considers a capitulation unavoidable. Before I decide, I wish to hear your views. What do you think, Count Ingelheim?"

Gravely and with painful emotion, the Austrian amba.s.sador replied: "It is most melancholy, your majesty, after such a day as yesterday to speak of capitulation; but if we are really surrounded by superior forces, brought up since yesterday evening," this he said with emphasis, "it would be a useless sacrifice of many brave soldiers to resist, and no one could thus advise your majesty."

"If we could only send to Berlin," said Count Platen, "it might yet----"

"Your majesty," interrupted General Brandis, in a trembling voice, "if it were possible that like the Duke of Brunswick you could draw your sword, and ride yourself at the head of your army, I would still cry 'Forwards!' I believe we should cut our way through; but as it is----"

he stamped with his foot, and turned away to hide the tears that blinded his eyes.

The state-councillor Meding came close to the king.