ulein."

But in the day of battle, when Wilhelm with his company stood for the
first time in the line of fire, the "Fraulein" was perhaps the firmest
of them all. The hissing balls made apparently no more impression on
him than a crowd of swarming gnats, and the only moment his courage
left him was when he thought he might be thrown into a ditch, which the
rains had turned into a complete puddle. He remained standing when all
the others lay down, and the captain at last called out to him, "In the
devil's name, do you want to be a target for the French?" making him
seek shelter behind a little mound, which left him nearly as uncovered
as he was before. And after hours of solid exertion, straining nerves
and muscles to the utmost, when peace came with night, Wilhelm began a
tiring piece of work with sticks and brushwood, out of pity for a weary
comrade.

On the strength of these first days before the enemy his position as a
soldier was established. A few harmless jokes were made on the march
and in the camp on Wilhelm's anxiety as to the removal of mud on his
clothes, and on the example he set in going out at night to save the
dead and wounded enemy from plunder, but the whole company loved and
admired the "Fraulein."

The officers, however, did not entirely share this feeling. This
lieutenant was not smart enough. They did full justice to his courage,
but thought that he was wanting in alertness and initiative. He lacked
the proper campaigning spirit, and they found it chilling that he
should be so distant in his manners after so long a time together.
Another said that Lieutenant Eynhardt went into action like a
sleep-walker, and his calmness had something uncanny about it. The
captain was not pleased with him, because he had no knowledge of
business; as far as example went he was the worst forager in the whole
regiment. If a peasant's wife complained to him, he would leave
empty-handed a house whose cellars were stocked with wine, and larders
with hams one could smell a hundred yards off. It was all the more
provoking as he could speak French perfectly, an accomplishment which
no one else in the regiment could, to the same extent, boast of. It
came even to a scene between him and the captain, who said angrily to
him after a fruitless search in a new and well-to-do village in
Champagne: "A good heart is a fine thing to have, but you are an
officer now, and not a Sister of Mercy. Our men have a right to eat,
and if yo