"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, glassy 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. "God 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 glassy as before. Fritz Deyke sank upon his knees. "Great God 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 passed 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 cuirassiers, 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.