One afternoon, while Anton was sitting watching a game at dominoes, an old lieutenant, looking off his newspaper, called to the players, "Yesterday evening one of our hussars had two fingers of his right hand smashed. The ass who was quartered with him had been playing with his carabine, which was loaded. The doctor thinks amputation unavoidable. I am sorry for the fine fellow: he was one of the most efficient of our squadron. These misfortunes always happen to the best."
"What is the man's name?" asked Herr von Bolling, going on with his game.
Anton sprang up, making all the pieces on the table dance again, and asked where he was to be found.
The lieutenant described the situation of the Lazaretto. In a dark room, full of beds and invalid soldiers, Karl lay pale and suffering, and reached out his left hand to Anton. "It is over," he said; "it hurt me most confoundedly, but I shall be able to use the hand again. I can still guide a pen, and shall try to do every thing else, if not with the right hand, why, with the left. Only I shall never again cut a figure in gold rings."
"My poor, poor Karl," cried Anton; "it's all over with your soldiering."
"Do you know," said Karl, "I can stand that misfortune pretty well. After all, it was not a regular war; and when spring and sowing-time comes, I shall be all right again. I could get up now if the doctor were not so strict. It is not pleasant here," added he, apologetically; "many of our people are sick, and one must shift for one's self in a strange town."
"You shall not remain in this room," said Anton, "if I can help it. There is such an atmosphere of disease here that a man in health becomes quite faint; I shall ask permission to have you moved into my lodging."
"Hush!" said the other; "I do not yet know whether we shall get leave."
"I have one other request to make," said the soldier, at parting, "and that is, that you will write the circumstance off to Goliath, so as not to make him too uneasy. If he first heard of it from a stranger, he would go on like a madman, I know."
Anton promised to do this, and then hurried to the surgeon of the regiment, and next to his kind friend the captain.
"I will answer for his getting leave," said the latter. "And as, from the account of his wound, his dismissal from the service seems to me unavoidable, he may as well stay with you till he receives it."