It makes me feel so small, so humble before their stoic endurance; tears come to my eyes and yet, because of the beauty of it, I have a great wish to thank God. Why should I be chosen to represent an ideal? Why should just I be the symbol? What right have I to stand above them, to buy glory with the shedding of their blood?... And always more tenderly do I pass from bed to bed.... That was at a time when hope still sang in every soul, when in the first enthusiasm all hearts beat in unison, when belief in glorious victory gladdened the day.... But much later, under widely different circumstances in quite another place, the same words were said to me by one who could not see my face, for that morning he had been trepanned; his bandaged head was lying in a pool of blood.... Some one told him that his Queen was beside him, that she had come to see him, to inquire about his sufferings; to help him if he needed help. A groping hand was stretched out toward me; I took it in mine, whispering words of comfort; bending low toward the parched lips that were murmuring something that at first I could not understand. The man had no face, no eyes; all was swathed in blood-stained cloths. Then, as though from very far, came the words, the same brave words: "May the great God protect you. May He let you live to become Empress--Empress of all the Rumanians!" IV--"I PRAYED TO GOD TO LISTEN" It was to me as though something very wonderful had quite suddenly descended upon the distress of my soul, something very holy, very beautiful; but that was almost more than I could bear.... Touching had been that wish when hope shone before us like a star, but now it was more than touching, it was grand and sacred, for it was pronounced at an hour when darkest disaster had overthrown our land, when inch by inch our armies were retreating before the all-invading foe. There in that chamber of suffering those dying lips still spoke of the hope they clung to, of the dream that, in spite of sacrifice, death and misery, one day must surely come true.... That dying man was but one of many, a voice out of the unknown, a martyr without a name; but his words had gone home to my heart. As I bent over him, laying my hand gently upon his crimson-stained rags, I prayed to God to listen to his wish; prayed that the blood of so many humble heroes should not be given in vain; prayed that when that great hour of liberation should sound at last an echo of the shout of victory that that day would sound over all our land should reach the heart of this nameless one beyond the shadow into which he was sinking, so that even beyond the grave he should still have a share in the glory his living eyes were not destined to see.... "WITH THE GERMAN ARMIES IN THE WEST"--VISITS TO THE GENERAL STAFF _Told by Sven Hedin, Noted Swedish Explorer--Authorized Translation from, the Swedish by H. G. Dewalterstorff_