Rolunt tried negotiations here and there; he had become hoarse from much talking. At last he came to us with a cheerful countenance. A shrewd, energetic man, he had succeeded in obtaining a wagon, and we travelled through the country. During the entire night we drove over torn-up roads. In the distance we saw burning villages. How many hundreds of peaceful homes were there destroyed. We turned our eyes from the sight. We went through villages riddled with shot and shell, and through others, in which here and there a light shone, and where we halted to feed the horses, we were observed with ugly, threatening glances. But the country was safe; for it was everywhere occupied by detachments of our troops. We reached the village where the Colonel was reported to be lying. We inquired here and there, but found him not: he must be in the next village. Thither we now journeyed. We met an artillery corps, and had to move into a field and await its passing. This took a terribly long while. They mocked us and cried at us in sport as they passed, and we were almost beside ourselves with impatience. And still we sat there protected from the drizzling rain, while our soldiers were steaming like horses. Rolunt got out. He asked the officers of the column after the Colonel. They knew nothing of him; they had only just arrived from a long march. At last we were permitted to proceed. At the entrance of the next village, Bertha recognized a soldier of her husband's regiment. "Is your Colonel living?" she asked. "Yes, yesterday he was still alive." "And to-day?" "Don't know. Haven't heard anything about him." I felt confident that he was yet living. I could not think that the strong, powerful man could be dead, and my hopefulness helped to support Bertha. We reached the house from which the white flag with the red cross was floating. I commanded my daughter to remain seated in the wagon, and to inquire of no one until I returned. She gave me her promise, but she could not keep her word, and it was indeed requiring too much of her. She saw her husband's servant, and called to him, and the lad said, "The Colonel is living, but--" "But what?" "He is very low." We entered the house, and the first one we met was Annette. "Be composed, Bertha! he lives. I came here immediately on receiving the intelligence of his being wounded, that I might do all that was possible for him," she said. She embraced her friend, and added, that we could not see him: he could not bear the shock. The Professor begged that he, at least, might be admitted. Annette called the doctor, and he gave permission to the Professor to see the wounded man. Annette remained with us, and said, "The bullet has not yet been found." The shot had entered the breast just above the heart, only escaping it by a hair's-breadth.