“I have grown to be an old man,” he went on falteringly--“I have seen men lying on the field of battle--men on whose faces stood written distress and despair--such heart sorrow as I saw in the face of this child I have never seen before or since--never--never--” A deep stillness took possession of the wine-room where we were sitting. As the old colonel became silent and spoke no word more, the waiter rose softly from his corner and lit the gas-jet that hung over our heads; it had grown quite dark. I took up the wine bottle once more, but it was now almost empty--just one tear still crept slowly out--one last drop of the good blood. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Blood, by Ernst Von Wildenbruch