"I have received a bill for one hundred francs. Now for some white wine of Alsace. Let us try to get out."
"That is well thought of," said he, twisting his mustache and putting his pipe in his pocket. "I do not like to mope in a garden when there are taverns outside. We must get permission."
We arose joyfully and went to the hospital, when, the letter-carrier, coming out, stopped Zimmer, saying:
"Are you Christian Zimmer, of the Second horse artillery?"
"I have that honor, monsieur the carrier."
"Well, here is something for you," said the other, handing him a little package and a large letter.
Zimmer was stupefied, never having received anything from home or from anywhere else. He opened the packet—a box appeared—then the box—and saw the cross of honor. He became pale; his eyes filled with tears, he staggered against a balustrade, and then shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" in such tones that the three halls rang and rang again.
The carrier looked on smiling.
"You are satisfied," said he.
"Satisfied! I need but one thing more."