or as if we were in the lap of Abraham; art,
poetry, and love, make our life beautiful, and the fare is ample;
though, unfortunately, we are on invalids' diet. No, you mustn't look
at what I am scribbling. Or rather, for all I care, you may look at the
thing as much as you like. A Rosenbusch, _seconda maniera_, or _terza_
rather, if I count in my classical period, my parting of Hector and
Iphigenia _a la_ David. Now, as you see, we are splashing about in
realism of the most modern sort--Father Wouverman will turn in his
grave, but I can't help that. And, after all, this pack of Turcos and
Zouaves are by no means to be despised. Magnificent contrasts of
color, set off by the vineyard scenery, and our own blue devils over
there--like a thunder-cloud. By Jove! it won't look bad, will it? Do
you know what the secret of modern battle-painting is, the clew to the
riddle, to find which I had first to have a hole shot in my thigh? The
episode, my dear fellow, nothing but the episode. Grouping in masses,
tricks of tactics--nonsense, a map would do just as well for that
purpose. But to condense in an episode the prevailing character of a
whole battle--that is the point. Those old fellows had an easy time of
it, for in those days a great, murderous battle was nothing but a
handful of episodes. Well, every man must accommodate himself to the
length of his blanket."

"Tours is long enough to keep you warm, old comrade-in-arms," replied
Schnetz, examining the ingenious sketch with great pleasure. "But how
goes it with your bodily progress?"

"Thanks. Fairly. In six or eight weeks I hope to prove myself quite a
lively dancer at my own wedding. I only wish," he added, in a lower
voice, with a slight movement of the head toward the other bed--"that
our friend over opposite had such bright prospects--"

"Herr von Schnetz!" they now heard Elfinger's sonorous voice say from
behind the screen--"You seem to have completely forgotten that there
are other people living on the other side of the mountain. Whom have
you brought with you? To judge from the step it is our brave baron.
Won't the gentlemen be so kind as to do a poor blind man the honor? You
will find some one else here who will be very glad to welcome my old
friends again."

At the first sound of these cheerful words, which moved him painfully,
Schnetz had stepped behind the screen and seized the hands the sick man
gropingly held out to him. Felix, too, approached. Elfinger could