ce into the dark cell, trying to make
out whether he could discover a forbidden object in it beside the
blanket and the water-pitcher, and then he turned to go. But Roese
hesitatingly and in humble tones said:

"Will the Herr Lieutenant permit me to make a respectful request?"

"Ask the guard if you want anything," answered the officer shortly,
and then descended the stone steps, his sword clanking.

The corporal on guard then turned and went back to Roese's cell.

"What is it you want?" he asked, with a show of good-nature.

"I should like to know, Herr Corporal, whether a letter from home has
arrived for me, and whether I could not have it!" answered Roese,
shyly.

"Well, my boy," laughed the corporal, "strictly speaking, that is
something not permitted--first serve your sentence, then you can find
out."

But as he scanned closely the features of Roese, who was of his own
squadron, and whom he rather liked,--noticing the melancholy face,--he
felt pity for the poor fellow. It was really a hard thing to spend
Christmas in jail for what probably was a mere oversight, or for what,
according to Roese himself, he had not even committed. Therefore he
said pleasantly:

"Well, I will inquire."

He locked the door, and sent a man to Roese's quarters with a request
to the corporal there to call on him. When the man came over he asked
him:

"Is there a letter for Roese?"

"A letter? No, but a package has come for him."

"Let me tell you!" whispered the corporal. "Open the box and bring
something of the contents over here. I feel sorry for the poor devil."

The other nodded and disappeared, soon to return with a letter that he
had found inside the package together with some dainty eatables. The
corporal took it all and brought it up to Roese, and then he told a man
to carry up a pail of coal to the cell.

In a few minutes the sheet-iron stove was aglow, and sent waves of
warmth into the cold cell. Roese stood in front of it, and by the
flickering light of the flames he slowly perused the letter of his
parents. While he read tears were streaming down his face. Then he hid
away under his pillow the other treasures,--a sausage and a
cake,--wrapped himself into his blanket and lay down to sleep. In his
dreams Roese was standing beneath the Christmas tree, and around him
were his dear ones at home.

The twenty-eighth of December was a day of mourning for the fourth
squadron.

All the men, including those who had j