"I will answer you no more," said von Wendenstein, "such thoughts are too dismal for a first night in the field. But," he continued sitting up and looking into his friend's face, "I will confide something to you."
And half jesting, half smiling at some happy remembrance, he said,--
"I think I am in love."
"You?" cried von Stolzenberg, laughing, "it would not be for the first time; but the moment is ill-chosen."
"Why?"
"Because a good cavalry soldier when he goes into the field should leave no regrets behind him. Forwards! is the word, and a lover makes a bad soldier."
"I do not understand that," said von Wendenstein; "on the contrary, in battle, how happy it would make a man to feel a heart is beating for him, and following him with thoughts and good wishes, and if he distinguishes himself the brave soldier will feel greater pride, and then when he returns, oh! that must be delicious!"
"When he returns," said Stolzenberg gloomily. "But," he continued in a cheerful voice, "who is your new flame?"
The eyes which von Wendenstein had been directing towards the stars were turned upon his friend with a look of surprise, and he said in a somewhat hurt voice, as he threw himself back in the straw:
"New flame? what an expression! certainly I shall not tell her name!"