Here he is," she continued, as the retriever came into the room; and, going up to the side of the bed where Fritz was lying, put up his paws on the counterpane and licked his master's face, in the wildest joy, apparently, at his recovery and notice of him.

"He must have heard his name spoken, as I only just sent him out for a run with one of the men, for all the time you were so ill we could not get him to leave the room.
Now, doggie, lie down like a good fellow, and let us hear all about you." The retriever at once obeyed the girl, stretching himself on the floor at her feet, although close beside his master all the while.
Fritz then narrated the sad little episode of the battle of Gravelotte, and how he had found the dead body of the French officer with the dog keeping guard over it.
The girl wept silently as he went on.
"It must have been poor Armand," she said presently through her tears.
"Did you find nothing about him to tell who he was ?" "There was a little bag I saw round his neck," said Fritz; "I took it off the poor fellow before we buried him, and suspended it on my own breast afterwards for security, thinking that I might restore it some day to his friends, if I ever came across them." "Ah, that must be the little packet which got driven into your wound, and, stopping the flow of blood, saved your life, the doctor says.

I have kept it carefully for you, and here it is," cried the girl, hastily jumping up from her seat and bringing the article in question to Fritz.
"Open it," he said; "I haven't got the strength to do it, you know." Madaleine unfastened the silken string that confined the mouth of the bag, now stained with Fritz's blood; and then she pulled out the little silver ring it contained.
One glance was enough for her.
"Yes," she faltered through her sobs.

"It is the ring I gave him; but that was months before the date engraved upon it, `July 18th, 1870,' which was the day he said he would come back to Bingen, as then he would be of age." "And he never came, then ?" inquired Fritz.
"No, never again," said she mournfully.
"Ah, I would come if I had been in his place," exclaimed Fritz eagerly, with a flashing eye.

"I never fail in an appointment I promise to keep; and to fail to meet a betrothed--why it is unpardonable!" He had raised his voice from the whisper in which he had previously spoken, and its indignant tone seemed quite loud.
"Perhaps he couldn't come," said Madaleine more composedly.