What a dreary winter they were having in Berlin! No balls, no parties, nothing but lint-picking, and their only dissipation the arrival of the wounded and the prisoners at the railway station.

And that was quite spoiled by the abominable newspaper articles on the subject--presuming to criticize ladies because they were rather friendly to the French officers! The French, whom one had known so well in Switzerland, must be of some worth, and it was the woman's part to be kind to the wounded enemy, and to intercede for human beings even in war, while the men defended them by their courage and strength.

Some of these Frenchmen were charming, so witty, polite, and chivalrous, that one could almost forgive them had they conquered us.

One's friends were suffering so much--one heard such dreadful things.

Herr von Pechlar had escaped without a hair being injured, and he already had an Iron Cross of the first class! She hoped that Wilhelm would soon get one too.
Up till now Wilhelm had not been able to answer this question decidedly.