The sun in rising sometimes has this effect on the dying, and before closing for ever their eyes look for the last time upon the sun. This idea came to Helen. "Oh, Heaven!" she murmured, with sobs. "Is he breathing his last sigh?" Benedict left the oar for a moment and went to Karl. He took his hand, felt his pulse; and found it imperceptible. He listened to his heart; it seemed to be still. At each test Helen murmured: "Oh, Heaven!" At the last test he shared her doubts. He took out a lancet, which he always carried, and pricked the shoulder of the wounded man, who did not feel or move; but a feeble drop of blood appeared. "Be of good courage, he is still alive," he said, and again took up his oar. Helen began to pray. Since the evening, no one had eaten but Fritz. Benedict broke a piece of bread and gave it to Helen. She refused it with a smile. They reached Offenbach, and could see Frankfort in the distance silhouetted against the sky. They were due there at about eight o'clock. At eight o'clock, in fact, the boat stopped at the landing-place by the bridge. Soon they saw Lenhart and his carriage, and close to him a litter. They raised the wounded man with the same precautions as before, put him in the litter, and drew the curtains round him. Benedict wished Helen to go in Lenhart's carriage; the bodice of her dress was stained with blood. She wrapped herself in a large shawl and walked beside the litter. To save time she asked Benedict to go and seek for the same doctor who had attended the Baron von Bülow, Doctor Bodemacker. She herself crossed all the town from the Sachsenhausen Strasse to her mother's house, following the litter which bore Karl. People watched her pass with astonishment, and went to question Fritz who walked behind. And when he said it was a _fiancée_ who was following the body of her lover, and as every one knew that Fräulein Helen von Chandroz was engaged to Count Karl von Freyberg, they recognized the beautiful young lady, and stepped back bowing respectfully. When they reached the house the door was already open. Her grandmother and sister were waiting on each side of the door, and as she passed Helen took a hand of each. "To my room!" she said. The wounded man was taken to her room and laid on her bed. At that moment Doctor Bodemacker arrived with Benedict. The doctor examined Karl, and Benedict looked on with anxiety almost equal to Helen's. "Who saw this man before me?" asked, the doctor. "Who bound his wounds?" "A regimental surgeon," answered Helen. "Why did he not tie the artery?" "It was at night, by torchlight, in the open air; he did not dare. He told me to get a cleverer man, and I came to you." The surgeon looked at Karl uneasily. "He has lost a quarter of his blood," he murmured. "Well?" asked Helen. The doctor bent his head. "Doctor," cried Helen, "don't tell me there is no hope: it is always said that people quickly recover lost blood."