Wilhelm was never tired of talking about the wonderland of the rising sun, of its gentle people and their wisdom, and Dr. Schrotter willingly told him about his manner of life and experience there.  So the peaceful days went by in the quiet schoolhouse at Tonnerre, the monotony being pleasantly relieved by visits from comrades, and letters from Paul Haber and the Ellrichs.  Paul was going on very well.  He was at Versailles, making acquaintances with celebrated people, and had nothing to complain of except that, in spite of the truce, he had no leave of absence to come and see his friend.  Frau Ellrich complained of the irregularity of their correspondence during the war.  Loulou wrote lively letters full of spirit and feeling.  She had been frightened to hear of his wound, but his convalescence had made her happy again.  She hoped that it would not leave him with a stiff leg, but even if it did it would not matter so much, as he neither danced nor skated.  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.  One morning, toward the end of February, as he was limping about the room on a stick, the adjutant came in and said: 

“I have brought you good news.  You have won the Iron Cross.”  As Wilhelm did not immediately answer he went on:  “Your captain has the first class.  He is now out of danger.  He has naturally surpassed you.  I may tell you between ourselves that it did not seem quite the thing, your being so cool about the colors; but the way in which you fetched the captain out was ripping.  Don’t be offended if I ask you why you exposed yourself for the captain when you refused for the flag?”

“I don’t mind telling you at all.  The captain is a living man, and the flag only a symbol.  A symbol does not seem to me to be worth as much as a man.”

The adjutant stared at him, and he repeated confusedly: 

“A symbol!”

Wilhelm said nothing in explanation, but went on: 

“I regret very much that I was not asked before I was proposed for the Iron Cross.  I cannot accept it.”