'He has never suffered more, I think,' said Rhineberg, after taking a long pull at his pipe, and watching the smoke thoughtfully as it ascended in concentric rings towards the lofty ceiling of the speise-saal, 'never, since that morning when the devilish _Extra Blatt_ had in it the mutilated telegram concerning the capture of Heinrich by the Francs-Tireurs.' 'And the severe wounding--was it not mortally?--of the Englander, Herr Pierrepont,' added Grunthal, with something in his throat that sounded, as Charlie thought, exceedingly like a chuckle of satisfaction. But Heinrich, his dear friend and comrade, had been taken by the Francs-Tireurs! Knowing, from experience, how the Francs-Tireurs and the Prussians were in the habit of handling each other, this was an event to cause him anxiety, but, as it happened, only for a few minutes. Would the death of the Count in any way release Ernestine from parental thraldom? Though he felt genuine sympathy for her natural grief, he could not very much regret the event; 'and yet,' thought Charlie, 'the poor old fellow was always kind to me.' 'It is most fortunate,' said Rhineberg, after a little pause, 'that the young Graf Heinrich is at home during such a terrible crisis.' 'Most fortunate for his mother, and all.' So Heinrich was at Frankenburg, and not with the old 95th before the walls of Paris! This was indeed most welcome news for Charlie! More than once he had been on the verge of speaking, as his curiosity had been keenly excited, but repressed the inclination; he did not wish that his presence in Aix should be known to the Countess, and to address Grünthal, his acknowledged rival, or competitor, rather, was altogether an intolerable idea, so quitting the speise-saal softly, he hastened to his own room. Then he wrote rapidly a long and explanatory letter to Ernestine, full of all the deepest, most tender, and passionate thoughts of his heart, telling her of his presence at Aix, and beseeching her to meet him. He recalled the dream in which she had asked him to meet him at Burtscheid. 'At Burtscheid, be it,' he wrote, 'at the same hour, dear, dear Ernestine, when last we met there; and I shall give you a strange souvenir of the war--the bullet that pierced my breast, and has been the means, perhaps, of keeping me so long from you. At Burtscheid, then, my darling.' This letter he despatched under cover to Heinrich, and felt more happy and composed than he had been since last he saw her. He knew that his letter would be delivered by the post at Frankenburg in the morning. Probably Heinrich would visit his hotel during the day, and he knew that at all risks--unless something most extraordinary intervened--Ernestine, who had such strength of will, would contrive to meet him in the old church. All the following day Charlie lingered about the Grand Monarque, but Heinrich never came; doubtless the business or calamity to which the Barons referred had detained him.