e
of these trees, for I confess I feel greatly exhausted, and my feet
refuse to carry me any farther. And how do you feel, comrade?"

"Do you believe," asked Schill, in a faint voice, "do you believe that I
should not have given vent to my anger at the impudence of that Corsican
who dares to revile our noble queen, if I had had sufficient strength to
speak? Let us sit down and rest. See, there is a splendid old oak. Let
us take breath under its shade."

They walked toward a large oak, which stood at the entrance of the wood,
and the foot of which was overgrown with fragrant green moss. Assisted
by Staps, the two officers seated themselves, and the roots, covered
with soft turf, served as pillows to their wounded heads.

"Oh, how delightful to rest on German soil under a German oak!" sighed
Schill. "I should like to lie here all my lifetime, looking up to the
rustling leaves, and dreaming! Amid the stillness surrounding us, it is
almost impossible to believe that we witnessed yesterday such wild
strife and bloodshed. Is all this reality, or have we had merely an
evil, feverish dream?"

"Touch your forehead; try to raise your right arm, and you will see that
it is reality," said Pueckler, laughing bitterly, "and if you should have
any doubt, let our young friend read the latest bulletin issued by our
_triumphator_. But will you promise not to interrupt him, nor to be
angry at what we are going to hear?"

"I promise you to be perfectly calm, for my weakness compels me to be
so. Read, friend Staps. But, pray, let us have the German translation,
for it would be a violation of the peaceful silence of the forest, and
of the sacredness of the German oak, if we should use here the language
of our enemies."

Frederick Staps sat down opposite the officers, on the trunk of a fallen
tree. Drawing a paper from his bosom, he unfolded it, and read as
follows:

"The battle of Jena has effaced the disgrace of Rossbach, and decided a
campaign in seven days. Since the ninth of October we have proceeded
from victory to victory, and the battles of Jena and Auerstadt have
crowned all. The Prussian army is dispersed--almost annihilated. The
king is wandering about without shelter, and the queen will now regret
with bitter tears that she instigated her husband to this senseless and
unjust war. Admirable was the conduct of our whole army, soul-stirring
the enthusiasm of the brave soldiers for their chieftain and emperor.
When there was