Then he turned to his visitor.

"I am very sorry, _Monsieur le Baron,_ but two of your beeches
have already fallen. It cannot be helped now. But there shall be no
more of it, I promise you. Those young officers are--they are--let
us call them overzealous. I will transfer them to another post
to-morrow. The German command appreciates the correct conduct of
you and _Madame la Baronne._ Is there anything more that I
can do for you?"

"I thank your Excellency sincerely," replied the baron. Then he
hesitated a moment, as if to weigh his words. "No, _Herr General,_
I believe there is nothing more--in which you can help me."

The old soldier's eyelids flickered for an instant. "Then I bid
you a very good day," he said, bowing.

The baron hurried home, to share the big good news with his wife.
The little bad news she knew already. Together they grieved over
the two fallen trees and rejoiced under the golden shadow of their
untouched companions. The officers had called for wine, and more
wine, and yet more wine, and were drinking deep and singing loud
in the dining-room.

In the morning came an orderly with a despatch from headquarters,
ordering the prince and the count to duty in a dirty village of
the coal region. Their baggage was packed into the automobile,
and they mounted their horses and went away in a rage.