"I have enough to think about," returned the soldier "I'm getting old,
and one thing troubles me."

"What's that, my good fellow?"

"Why, you see, baron, I'm not alone here."

"Not alone?"

"No, sir--I--have--I have a little child here."

"I never knew you were married, Karl."

"Nor was I, your honor. For I always thought an infantry soldier ought
to be in marching order, and never have more baggage than he could
carry in his knapsack. No, no; the child is none of mine."

"But it is related to you," said the baroness.

"It is my grandchild, madam," replied the soldier, fixing his eyes on
the lady; "and the child of as brave a man as ever faced the fire of
the enemy. He might have been a field marshal, for the matter of that.
I saw him at Oberstadt when the hussars went down to charge the
enemy's light cavalry. Faith, madam, they made daylight shine through
their ranks. Their curved sabres cut them up as the sickle does the
corn. I saw him, the girl's father, madam, go into that affair with
the hussars; but he came not out safe. It was pitiful to see his
uniform all dabbled with blood, as he lay on the ground, and to see
his pale lips quivering, as he prayed for water. I gave him the last