“How could we refuse a few cherries,” said Caroline, “to the man that sheds his blood in our defence?  You must eat them all,” said she, while the tears streamed down her cheeks.  “Do, I entreat you!  Eat them all.”

He took some of the cherries and laid them on the table, near his wine-glass; but he had scarcely placed the glass to his lips when the trumpet sounded.  He sprang up and girded on his sword.

“That is the signal to march,” said he.  “I cannot wait one instant.”

Caroline wrapped the cherries in a roll of white paper and insisted that he should put them in his pocket.

“The weather is very warm,” said she, “and even cherries will be some refreshment.”

“Oh,” said the officer, with emotion, “what a happiness it is for a soldier, who is often obliged to snatch each morsel from unwilling hands, to meet with a generous and benevolent family!  I wish it were in my power, my dear child, to give you some pledge of my gratitude, but I have nothing—­not so much as a single groat.  You must be content with my simple thanks.”  With these words, and once more bidding Caroline and her mother an affectionate farewell, he took his departure, and walked rapidly out of sight.

The joy of the good family for their happy deliverance was, alas! of short continuance.  Some weeks after, a dreadful battle was fought near the village, which was reduced to a heap of ruins.  The mayor’s house was burned to the ground and all his property destroyed.  Alas for the horrors of cruel war!  Father, mother and daughter fled away on foot, and wept bitterly when they looked back on their once happy village, now but a mass of blazing ruins.

The family retired to a distant town, and lived there in very great distress.  The mayor endeavored to obtain a livelihood as a scrivener, or clerk; his wife worked at dressmaking and millinery, and Caroline, who soon became skillful in such matters, faithfully assisted her.

A lady in town—­the Countess von Buchenhaim—­gave them much employment, and one day Caroline went to this lady’s house to carry home a bonnet.  She was taken to the garden, where the countess was sitting in the summer-house with her sister and nieces, who had come to visit her.  The young ladies were delighted with the bonnet, and their mother gave orders for three more, particularly praising the blue flowers, which were the work of Caroline’s own hands.

The Countess von Buchenhaim spoke very kindly of the young girl to her sister, and related the sad story of the worthy family’s misfortunes.  The count was standing with his brother-in-law, the colonel, at some little distance from the door of the summer-house, and the colonel, a fine-looking man in a hussar’s uniform and with a star on his breast, overheard the conversation.  Coming up, he looked closely at Caroline.

“Is it possible,” said he, “that you are the daughter of the mayor of Rebenheim?  How tall you have grown!  I should scarcely have recognized you, though we are old acquaintances.”