was well I was present, for all the warnings of others had no effect, and no one would have dared to talk so sharply to him as I allowed myself to do on the last occasion, which gave support to my words, when a knot of ten cuirassiers and fifteen horses of the Sixth Cuirassier Regiment rushed confusedly by us, all in blood, and the shells whizzed around most disagreeably close to the King.  He cannot yet forgive me for having blocked for him the pleasure of being hit.  “At the spot where I was forced by order of the supreme authority to run away,” were his words only yesterday, pointing his finger angrily at me.  But I like it better so than if he were excessively cautious.  He was full of enthusiasm over his troops, and justly so rapt that he seemed to take no notice of the din and fighting close to him, calm and composed as at the Kreuzberg, and constantly meeting battalions that he must thank with “Good-evening, grenadiers,” till we were actually by this trifling brought under fire again.  But he has had to hear so much of this that he will stop it for the future, and you may feel quite easy; indeed, I hardly believe there will be another real battle.

When you have of anybody no word whatever, you may assume with confidence that he is alive and well; for if acquaintances are wounded it is always known at latest in twenty-four hours.  We have not come across Herwarth and Steinmetz at all, nor has the King.  Schreck, too, I have not seen, but I know they are well.  Gerhard keeps quietly at the head of his squadron, with his arm in a sling.  Farewell—­I must to business.

Your faithfullest v.B.

 Zwittau, Moravia, July 11, ’66.

Dear Heart,—­I have no inkstand, all of them being in use; but for the rest I get on well, after a good sleep on camp bed with air mattress; roused at eight by a letter from you.  I went to bed at eleven.  At Koeniggraetz I rode the big sandy thirteen hours in the saddle without feeding him He bore it very well, did not shy at shots nor at corpses, cropped standing grain and plum-leaves with zest at the most trying moments, and kept up an easy gait to the last, when I was more tired than the horse.  My first bivouac for the night was on the street pavement of Horic, with no straw, but helped by a carriage cushion.  It was full of wounded; the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg found me and shared his chamber with me, Reuss, and two adjutants, and the rain made this very welcome to me.  About the King and the shells I have written you already.  All the generals had a superstition that they, as soldiers, must not speak to the King of danger, and always sent me off to him, though I am a major, too.  They did not venture to speak to his reckless Majesty in the serious tone which at last was effectual.  Now at last he is grateful to me for it, and his sharp words, “How you drove me off the first time,” etc., are an acknowledgment that I was right.  Nobody knew the region, the King had no guide, but rode right on at random, till I obtruded myself to show the way. * * * Farewell, my heart.  I must go to the King.