As the cuirassier rode past with the lifeless body in his arms, a fresh young voice cried, half in fear, half in compassion: "Ah! the poor young officer!" Fritz was touched by the sound of the voice, as well as by this mark of sympathy for his dear lieutenant, and looked up at the house. A young girl's pretty blonde head peeped from a half-opened shutter, but bashfully withdrew as the soldier looked up; the blind, however, was not entirely closed. Either the expressive voice, or the sympathy in the bright blue eyes still looking down through the small opening upon the strange and melancholy spectacle, caused the young man to conclude, that in this comfortable and well-to-do looking house he should find good quarters for his beloved officer: it was enough, he reined in his horse, and cried out-- "Yes, the poor young officer needs rest and care, and I demand quarters for him in this house." The words were short and commanding, for he belonged to the army who entered the town as victors; but the tone of voice was gentle and imploring, and it caused the young girl to open the shutter entirely, and to stretch out her head. At the same moment, a stout, elderly man, with a full red face and short grey hair, appeared, and looked down with displeasure at the Hanoverian soldier. "Quarters can be had in this house, if so it must be," he said, curtly and uncivilly; "but as to care, we have nothing to do with that, and there is nothing much to eat!" "I will see to that!" cried Fritz Deyke, "only come down and help me to carry in my lieutenant!" The old man withdrew from the window grumbling, whilst the young girl called out kindly, "I will get a bed ready at once for the poor wounded man, then we shall see what must be done next." And she disappeared from the window. The old man had opened the house door, and advanced towards the horseman. "I cannot bid you welcome to my house," he said, gloomily and harshly, "for you belong to the enemies of my king and country, but I am bound to give you quarters; and," he continued, looking compassionately at the pale young officer, "I would rather give quarters to the wounded than to the sound." "It is no question of friend or foe!" replied Fritz, in a conciliatory voice; "it is a question of Christian charity to a poor wounded man!" "Come then!" said the old man, simply, and walked up to the horse. Fritz Deyke let the lifeless form slide gently into the old man's arms; then dismounting, he tied his horse to the low garden railings, and together they bore the lifeless form to the house. "Up here," said the old man, pointing to the stairs which led from the hall to the comfortable rooms above. Fritz Deyke went up first, carefully supporting the lieutenant's head, whilst the old man followed, bearing him. They entered a long passage with doors on each side.