'Herminia says that Ernestine has never closed an eye since last night, which I am sorry to say, because if troubles can be slept upon they are curable. However, don't be alarmed about Ernestine,' he added, laughing, 'she's very low and sad, no doubt; but there is no chance of her drowning herself in Fastrada's pool below the Schloss--that odious pond where I used to puddle for many a day with a crooked pin and a string, catching many a cold, but never a fish.' 'Why, Heinrich?' 'For a very sufficient reason. There was none in it.' 'Do you think your mother will ever forgive me? 'Heaven alone knows. Time will show. She has the most absurd ideas concerning alliances and family rank. As for my father, he storms and gets into rages that I call apoplectic ones; but he'll sit in his study among the saddles, dogs' collars, and so forth, and smoke himself into quietude ere long. He is a wonderful hale and hearty old fellow for his great age; but he married late in life, and has only had a silver wedding, when his comrade, old Field-Marshal Wrangel, has had a golden one. And, then, you are a soldier, Carl--and to be a soldier is always a trump card with him. You have heard how he saved Blucher's life at Ligny?' 'Only vaguely.' 'It is a matter of history: Prussian history, at least; and was one of those impulses, or inspirations, which, if not acted on instantly, may never come again. It was at Ligny where the Prussians and French were engaged on the 16th of June, on that dreadful day of tempest; rain, and wind, when the British were retreating from Quatre Bras to their position at Waterloo. Victory was evidently declaring for the Emperor, when Blucher strove to arrest his success by consecutive charges of cavalry. In person he led on a regiment of Hussars, who were repulsed; his horse fell beneath him wounded, and the great Marshal could not be extricated, and the enemy were pressing on! The last of his flying Hussars had left the brave old man, who lay helpless on the ground; but his aide-de-camp, the Count, my father, resolving to share his fate, flung himself by Blucher's side, and covered him with his horse-cloak that he might not be recognised. Over them swept a brigade of Brass Cuirassiers, so named from the metal of their helmets and corslets. The routed Hussars rallied suddenly, wheeled about, and attacked their pursuers, and again passed their fallen leader, and the old Graf--a young Graf, then--in their pursuit of the French, whom they routed. My father instantly seized the opportunity. He dragged Blucher from under the fallen charger, mounted him on a dragoon horse, and thus saved his life!' While Heinrich, with something of exultation, was detailing this episode of the Count's early life, the thoughts of Carl were very far away from the events of Ligny and Waterloo.