Already Blanden saw the smoking furnaces of the foundry before him; there a flash quivers through the cloud of vapour; in conical flight the birds of death swept through, on right and left, fell into the trees, here and there penetrated the earth, struck the companions by his side, and stretched Blanden himself on the ground. He gazed into the night, as it descended upon his eyes--the night of death--but uttered not a word of lament. His last thought before his senses forsook him was the futility of his life, which was honourably terminated by death upon the battle-field. When he opened his eyes again amidst violent pain, he fancied he was still under the spell of a dream: had he awoke in India amongst the peris? His bewildered fancy led the favourite images of his waking dreams before his mind. A tear-bedimmed eye rested upon him, a slight form, wrapped in a cloak, bent over him. They were the eyes, it was the figure of Giulia; with a loud cry of joy she welcomed his awaking. But it was yet the day, the same day of the battle. Vollies rattled round the iron fort; where at other times the wheels of machinery revolved, now revolved the wheel of death. A gun-boat still lay upon the strand, the otters had moved nearer to Flensburg, but that one did not cease from its work of devastation. A cartridge rattled and fell into the beech and struck down a branch, which fell upon Giulia and cut her brow. She had bent over Blanden to shelter him. "Where am I? You here?" said he, half unconsciously. "Do not ask how." "Who brings you here?" "Charity and longing for death, but now there is not a moment to lose." She beckoned to two peasants, who stood close by with a little cart, and lifted Blanden into it, beside a wounded man who already lay there. Giulia seated herself upon the hard straw sack. They went along back streets to the inn of a neighbouring village, where several surgeons were in full employment. It was a long time before Blanden recovered from his wounds, which left him slightly lame for life. Giulia was once more his faithful nurse, she also followed him to the Danish captivity, into which he, with the other wounded men, had fallen. The feeling of belonging wholly to one another became quickened in both. From every side Blanden heard with what heroic valour Giulia had hastened into the battle field, how amidst shot and shells she had brought consolation, succour and relief to the wounded, an angel of mercy, whose memory would live for all ages in the hearts of the Schleswig-Holstein youth. For long both avoided speaking of their separation, its causes, of their later experiences. There would have been the risk of great agitation for Blanden, for both the danger of parting again, and yet both felt how painful an effect this would have upon their lives. At last Blanden had sufficiently recovered to be allowed to go out into the fresh air, and he, with others, had been already exchanged for Danish prisoners.