So after this time I will not send at all. But I must say good-bye to him, I must have his good-bye to carry me through my life. This once, then, Fritz, do it for me."
The tears rolled down her cheeks, which to-day were flushed out of their paleness to a stormy red; her eyes defied me even while they pleaded. I bent my head and kissed her hand.
"With God's help I'll carry it safely and bring his safely, my Queen," said I.
"And tell me how he looks. Look at him closely, Fritz. See if he is well and seems strong. Oh, and make him merry and happy! Bring that smile to his lips, Fritz, and the merry twinkle to his eyes. When you speak of me, see if he—if he looks as if he still loved me." But then she broke off, crying: "But don't tell him I said that! He'd be grieved if I doubted his love. I don't doubt it—I don't indeed; but still tell me how he looks when you speak of me, won't you, Fritz? See, here's the letter."
Taking it from her bosom, she kissed it before she gave it to me. Then she added a thousand cautions—how I was to carry her letter, how I was to go and how return, and how I was to run no danger, because my wife Helga loved me as well as she would have loved her husband had Heaven been kinder.
"At least, almost as I should, Fritz," she
