ess guns; and 11,669 officers and
363,326 men taken prisoners in battle and interned in Germany--not
counting 170,000 men of the garrison of Paris who must be held to have
surrendered to their conquerors, although these were not led away
captive like the others, who were kept in durance until the first moiety
of their ransom was paid!

But, Prince Bismark over-reached himself in grinding down the country as
he did. He thought, that, by fixing such an enormous sum for the
indemnity, France would be under the heel of Germany for years to come,
as the Prussian troops were not to leave until the money was paid.
Instead of which, by a general and stupendous movement of her
population, inflamed by a praiseworthy spirit of patriotism, the five
milliards were paid within a year and the French soil clear of the
invader--this being the most wonderful thing connected with the war,
some persons think!

Meanwhile, Madame Dort's anxiety to behold her son again at home and his
earnest wish to the same effect had to await gratification.

The news of the armistice before Paris reached Lubeck on the 30th
January; but it was not until March that the German troops began to
evacuate their positions in front of the capital of France, and nearly
the end of the month before the last battalion turned its face homeward.

Before that wished-for end was reached, Fritz was terribly heart-sick
about Madaleine.

After a long silence, enduring for over a month, during which his mind
was torn by conflicting doubts and fears, he had received a short,
hurried note from her, telling him that she had been ill and was worried
by domestic circumstances. She did not know what would become of her,
she wrote, adding that he had better cease to think of her, although she
would always pray for his welfare.

That was all; but it wasn't a very agreeable collapse to the nice little
enchanted "castle in Spain" he had been diligently building up ever
since his meeting with Madaleine at Mezieres:-- it was a sad downfall to
the hopes he had of meeting her again!

Of course, he wrote to his mother, telling her of his misery; but she
could not console him much, save by exhorting him to live in hope, for
that all would come well in good time.

"Old people can't feel like young ones," thought Fritz. "She doesn't
know what I suffer in my heart."

And so time rolled on slowly enough for mother and son; he, counting the
days--sadly now, for his return was robbed