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I asked him what he thought of the position of his country at the present moment. He smiled sadly and said:

"Here, in the hospital, we only know what the newspapers say; and, of course, they are very optimistic. We officers know perfectly what our forces and the forces of our enemies are. It is certain that we are going to struggle to the very last. You know how I, personally, love France; but, of course, I will go to fight again as soon as I am better—if I am ever in condition to fight."

He said this sadly, showing me his leg, which perhaps will be crippled for ever. And he concluded in French, the language we used to speak at a time we both thought an officer was only a kind of sportsman who wore a uniform. "Enfin même si c'est un suicide il faut l'faire et on va l'faire!" He gave me some introductions to officers still in Berlin, and we parted; our last word was au revoir.... Where and when we shall meet again, what our country will be then, the blood of how many thousand men will be wasted before that day is in the hands of a mysterious future.