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 noble 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 Schützhaus 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 assembled 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. The council of war broke up without any result, and the king retired to rest after the fatigues of the day. The bivouac fires of the troops shone all around the town; and such merry songs, such cheerful voices rose on every side, it was hard to believe these were the exhausted soldiers who could not possibly undertake a two hours' march to Gotha, there to find rest and food. Fritz Deyke meanwhile had ridden to the town, carrying Lieutenant von Wendenstein before him, without knowing whether he was alive or dead. The young man lay heavily in his arms, his limbs hung helplessly down, and the wound in his breast bled afresh from the quick ride. The young peasant reached the town, but there had been fighting in the streets, and it seemed deserted by its inhabitants, who had shut themselves into the back rooms of their houses. "Where shall I find the best quarters?" he asked himself. "Perhaps they will take the greatest care of him in the hotel," he thought, after a moment's consideration, and he rode on in search of an inn. At a turn in the street he saw a large white house standing a little back, with a well-kept garden in front of it, and with various outbuildings beside it. Green jalousie blinds were closed over the windows.