"The bullet has lodged upon the rib," he said; "if he does not die from loss of blood and exhaustion he may recover. For the present he must have perfect rest; I cannot attempt to extract the bullet until he has in some measure recovered his strength." Margaret returned with warm water, linen, and a sponge. She then placed a small lamp upon the table, for it began to grow dark. The surgeon washed the wound, and poured some wine into his patient's mouth. A deep breath parted his lips, a faint tinge of colour came to his cheeks, and he opened his eyes. He looked with surprise at everything around him; his eyes closed again, and scarcely audibly he murmured "Auf Wiedersehn!" The young girl folded her hands, and raised her eyes, shining through tears to heaven. Fritz took off his cap, waved it in the air and opened his mouth wide, as if to shout the Hurrah! with which the lusty 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 cuirassier, 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 appetite 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 gratitude 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 passing 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."