ged herself, like her husband, to protect them
at the risk of her life, if French soldiers should arrive, and search
the house for wounded Prussians.

"Now you are safe, and I can go," said Frederick Staps, when he was
again alone with his friends, their host having withdrawn to prepare
every thing that was necessary for the comfort of his guests. "I cannot
stay here any longer, for I have promised my father to proceed without
delay to Leipsic, and I must keep my pledge to him, as I shall keep it
to you. Farewell, friends; may God protect you, and may your deeds fill
the world with your glory, so that the poor merchant's apprentice in
Leipsic may also hear of it!"

"The poor merchant's apprentice is also a soldier of our grand army of
the future," said Schill; "we have enlisted him, and he will go and
fulfil his duty to his fatherland."

"Yes, you may depend on it he will do his duty," exclaimed Staps, "and
you will hear of him one day. Farewell, and, please God! we shall meet
again!"

"Yes, we shall meet again," said the two officers, cordially shaking
hands with the youth, and taking leave of him.

Staps left the room hastily. When he turned round once more at the door,
and greeted the friends with a nod, they saw that his eyes were filled
with tears.

The clergyman's wife now entered to serve up the dinner she herself had
prepared, and there was added a bottle of old Hock from the wine-cellar.

"In the first place, however," said the clergyman to Schill, "I must see
and dress your arm, sir; I am quite experienced in dressing wounds,
having taken lessons in surgery in order to assist our poor peasants in
case of injuries, and render it unnecessary for them to pay large
doctors' bills. Let me, therefore, be your surgeon, too."

Schill gratefully accepted his kind offer, and after his wife had
brought every thing necessary for dressing a wound, the clergyman
examined Schill's arm, and removed the coagulated blood from it.

"It is a very deep flesh-wound," he said, "fortunately the bone is
uninjured."

"Then I shall soon be able to use my arm again?" asked Schill, joyfully.

"Not for a few weeks yet, unless you wish to run the risk of losing it
entirely. Mortification might set in after the wound has commenced
ulcerating. Hence, you must be very cautious, and live as quietly as
possible. Your hands are now already burning, and your fever will be
very severe. Unfortunately, I have brought up my wine in vain.