'Why are there tears in your eyes, Mademoiselle?' asked Charlie, with a kind smile.
'Because, Monsieur, I pity you.'
'Pity me!'
'Indeed I do, Monsieur. Most earnestly.'
'And why?'
'Because you are too young, and too good and kind, to be killed. Oh!' continued the girl, looking up in his face, 'I implore you to go home—home to your own England—home to your mother, if you have one, and leave these odious Prussians to fight their own battles.'
'It is too late, my pretty friend.'
'How so?'
'The die is cast that makes me—Prussian.'
'Will another horrible battle be fought to-day?' asked Monsieur de Caillé, who now made his appearance.