or eight dead. Some died in fevers, some in deadly
chill; so that heat or cold might be the presage of death.

Zimmer said that all this proceeded from the evil drugs which the
doctors invented. "Do you see that tall, thin fellow?" he asked.
"Well, that man can boast of having killed more men than a field-piece;
he is always primed, with his match lighted; and that little brown
fellow--I would send him instead of the Emperor to the Russians and
Prussians; he would kill more of them than a whole army corps."

He would have made me laugh with his jokes if the litters had not been
constantly passing.

At the end of three weeks my shoulder began to heal, and Zimmer's
wounds were also doing well. They gave us every morning some good
boiled beef which warmed our hearts, and in the evening a little beef
with half a glass of wine, the sight alone of which rejoiced us and
made the future look hopeful.

About this time, too, they allowed us to walk in the large garden, full
of elms, behind the hospital. There were benches under the trees, and
we walked the paths like millionnaires in our gray great-coats and
forage-caps. The weather was magnificent; and we could see far along
the poplar bordered Partha. This river falls into the Elster, on the
left, forming a long blue line. On the same side stretches a forest of
beech trees, and in front are three or four great white roads, which
cross fields of wheat, barley and hay, and hop plantations; no sight
could be pleasanter, or richer, especially when the breeze falls upon
it and these harvests rise and fall in the sunlight like waves of the
sea. The increasing heat presaged a fine year and often, when looking
at the beautiful scenery around, I thought of Phalsbourg, and the tears
came to my eyes.

"I would like to know what makes you cry so, Josephel," said Zimmer.
"Instead of catching a fever in the hospital, or losing a leg or arm,
like hundreds of others, here we are quietly seated in the shade; we
are well fed, and can smoke when we have any tobacco; and still you
cry. What more do you want, Josephel?"

Then I told him of Catharine; of our walks at Quatre-Vents; of our
promises; of all my former life, which then seemed a dream. He
listened, smoking his pipe.

"Yes, yes," said he; "all this is very sad. Before the conscription of
1798, I too was going to marry a girl of our village, who was named
Margredel, and whom I loved better than all the world beside. We h