He was silent awhile, deep in memories of the past. Then he said: "If I have lingered over these childish reminiscences it is because I have not my Blondchen any longer. On one of our wandering excursions we were caught in a heavy shower of rain, and became wet through. My sister was taken ill with rheumatism, and eight days afterward we buried her in the churchyard." The mother soon followed Blondchen. Sorrow over the child, and homesickness, combined with weak health, proved too great a strain. Wilhelm remained alone with the dispirited and sorrowful old father, whom he never left except for his three years' military service in the field. Then the father, to shorten the time of separation, accompanied the army (in spite of his seventy years) as an ambulance assistant. The following year he died, and Wilhelm was left alone in the world. Loulou was not wanting in heart, and she had as much feeling as it is proper for an educated German girl to show. By an involuntary movement, she held out her hand, which Wilhelm caught and kissed. They both grew very red, and she looked wistfully at him with her eyes wet. Had he understood the look, and been of a bold nature, he would have clasped the girl to his breast and kissed her. Her red lips would have made scarcely any resistance. But the confusion of mind passed quickly, the light afternoon sunshine and the sight of the people passing through the breach in the castle wall brought him to full consciousness, and the dangerous step was not taken. Loulou recovered her sprightliness, and going back to his story asked him, "So you have been in a campaign?" "Certainly." "Did you become an officer?" "No, fraulein, only a 'vize-Feldwebel.'" "Have you fought in a battle?" "Oh, yes, at Burkersdork, Skalitz, Koniginhof, and Koniggratz." "That must have been frightfully interesting. And have you ever killed one of the enemy?" "Happily not. It does not fall to the lot of every soldier to kill a man. He does his duty if he stands up in his place ready to be killed." "Have you any photographs of yourself in uniform?" He looked at her surprised and said: "No, why?" A roguish smile, which at the last question had curled at the corners of her mouth, broke into a merry laugh. "I wanted to know whether you marched into battle with your curls, or whether you sacrificed them to the fatherland?" Wilhelm was not offended, but said simply: "Dear young lady, appearances give you the right to make fun--" "Ah, don't be angry, I am ill-mannered." "No, no, you are quite right; but, believe me, I only wear my hair long so as to save myself the trouble of going to the hairdresser's. If I dared imagine that I should be less insupportable with a tonsure--"