'Yes,' she said, blushing. 'I am proud to do so.'

What courteous answer he would have made to this I do not know. She had scarcely spoken before a deep voice on the farther side of the fire was heard to ask 'What of Count Pappenheim?'

The speaker was Von Werder, who had long sat so modestly silent that I had forgotten his presence. He seemed scarcely to belong to the party; though Fraulein Max, who sat on the Waldgrave's left hand, formed a sort of link stretched out towards him. Tzerclas had forgotten him too, I think, for he started at the sound of his voice and gave him but a curt answer.

'He is no general,' he said sharply. 'A great leader of horse he is; great at fighting, great at burning, greatest at plundering. No more.'

'It seems that you allow no merit in a German!' the Waldgrave cried with a sneer. He had drunk too much.

But Tzerclas was not to be moved. There was something fine in the toleration he extended to the younger man. 'Not at all,' he said quietly. 'Yet I am of opinion that, even apart from arms, Germany has shown since the beginning of this war few men of merit.'

'The Duke of Bavaria,' the same deep voice beyond the fire suggested.

'Maximilian?' Tzerclas answered. This time he did not seem to resent the stranger's interference. 'Yes, he is something of a statesman.

You are right, my friend. He and Leuchtenstein, the Landgrave's minister--he too is a man. I will give you those two. But even they play second parts. The fate of Germany lies in no German hands. It lies in the hands of Gustavus Adolphus and Oxenstierna, Swedes; of Wallenstein, a Bohemian; of--I know not who will be the next foreigner.'

'That is all very well; but you are a foreigner yourself,' the Waldgrave cried.

'Yes, I am a Walloon,' Tzerclas said, still quietly, though this time I saw his eyes flicker. 'It is true; why should I deny it? You represent the native, and I the foreign element. The Countess stands between us, representing both.'

The Waldgrave rose with an oath and a flushed face, and for a moment I thought that we were going to have trouble. But he remembered himself in time, and sitting down again in silence, gazed sulkily at the fire.

The movement, however, was enough for my lady. She rose to her feet to break up the party; and turning her shoulder to the offender, began to thank General Tzerclas for his entertainment. This made the Waldgrave, who was compelled to stand by and listen, look more sulky than ever; but she continued to take no notice of him, and though he remained awkwardly regarding her and waiting for a word, as long as she stood, she went away without once turning her eyes on him. The general s.n.a.t.c.hed a torch from me and lighted her with his own hand to our part of the camp, where he took a respectful leave of her; adding, as he withdrew, that he would march at any hour in the morning that might suit her, and that in all things she might command his servants and himself.

He had sent over for her use a small tent, provided originally, no doubt, for his own sleeping quarters; and we found that in a hundred other ways he had shown himself thoughtful for her comfort. She stood a moment looking about her with satisfaction; and when she turned to dismiss me, there was, or I was mistaken, a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt in her eye. After all, she was a woman.

CHAPTER XI.

STOLEN!

The night was still young, and when I had seen my mistress and her women comfortably settled, I sauntered back towards the middle of the camp. The three fires stood here, and there, and there, among the trees, like the feet of a three-legged stool; while between them lay a middle s.p.a.ce which partook of the light of all, and yet remained shadowy and ill-defined. A single beech which stood in this s.p.a.ce, and served in some degree to screen our fire from observation, added to the darkness of the borderland. At times the flames blazed up, disclosing trunk and branches; again they waned, and only a shadowy ma.s.s filled the middle s.p.a.ce.

I went and stood under this tree and looked about me. The Waldgrave had disappeared, probably to his couch. So had Von Werder. Only General Tzerclas remained beside the fire at which we had supped, and he no longer sat erect. Covered with a great cloak he lay at his ease on a pile of furs, reading by the light of the fire in a small fat book, which even at that distance I could see was thumbed and dog's-eared. Such an employment in such a man--in huge contrast with the noisy brawling and laughter of his following--struck me as remarkable. I felt a great curiosity to know what he was studying, and in particular whether it was the Bible. But the distance between us was too great and the light too uncertain; and after straining my eyes awhile I gave up the attempt, consoling myself with the thought that had I been nearer I had perhaps been no wiser.

I was about to withdraw, tolerably satisfied, to seek my own rest, when a stick snapped sharply behind me. Unwilling to be caught spying, I turned quickly and found myself face to face with a tall figure, which had come up noiselessly behind me. The unknown was so close to me, I recoiled in alarm; but the next moment he lowered his cloak from his face, and I saw that it was Von Werder.

'Hush, man!' he said, raising his hand to enforce caution. 'A word with you. Come this way.'

He gave me no time to demur or ask questions, but taking obedience for granted, turned and led the way down a narrow path, proceeding steadily onwards until the glare of the fire sank into a distant gleam behind us. Then he stopped suddenly and faced me, but the darkness in which we stood among the tree-trunks still prevented me seeing his features, and gave to the whole interview an air of mystery.

'You are the Countess of Heritzburg's steward?' he said abruptly.

'I am,' I answered, wondering at the change in his tone, which, deep before, had become on a sudden imperative. By the fire and in Tzerclas' company he had spoken with a kind of diffidence, an air of acknowledged inferiority. Not a trace of that remained.

'The Waldgrave Rupert,' he continued--'he is a new acquaintance?'

'He is not an old friend,' I replied. I could not think what he would be at with his questions. All my instincts were on the side of refusing to answer them. But his manner imposed upon me, though his figure and face were hidden; and though I wondered, I answered.

'He is young,' he said, as if to himself.

'Yes, he is young,' I answered dryly. 'He will grow older.'

He remained silent a moment, apparently in thought. Then he spoke suddenly and bluntly. 'You are an honest man, I believe,' he said. 'I watched you at supper, and I think I can trust you. I will be plain with you. Your mistress had better have stayed at Heritzburg, steward.'

'It is possible,' I said. I was more than half inclined to think so myself.

'She has come abroad, however. That being so, the sooner she is in Ca.s.sel, the better.'

'We are going thither,' I answered.

'You were!' he replied; and the meaning in his voice gave me a start.

'You were, I say?' he continued strenuously. 'Whither you are going now will depend, unless you exert yourself and are careful, on General John Tzerclas of the Saxon service. You visit his camp to-morrow. Take a hint. Get your mistress out of it and inside the walls of Ca.s.sel as soon as you can.'

'Why?' I said stubbornly. 'Why?' For it seemed to me that I was being asked all and told nothing. The man's vague warnings chimed in with my own fears, and yet I resented them coming from a stranger. I tried to pierce the darkness, to read his face, to solve the mystery of his altered tone. But the night baffled me; I could see nothing save a tall, dark form, and I fell back upon words and obstruction. 'Why?' I asked jealously. 'He is my lady's cousin.'

'After a fashion,' the stranger rejoined coldly and slowly, and not at all as if he meant to argue with me. 'I should be better content, man, if he were her uncle. However, I have said enough. Do you bear it in mind, and as you are faithful, be wary. So much for that. And now,' he continued, in a different tone, a tone in which a note of anxiety lurked whether he would or no, 'I have a question to ask on my own account, friend. Have you heard at any time within the last twelve months of a lost child being picked up to the north of this, in Heritzburg or the neighbourhood?'

'A lost child?' I repeated in astonishment.

'Yes!' he retorted impatiently. And I felt, though I could not see, that he was peering at me as I had lately peered at him. 'Isn't that plain German? A lost child, man? There is nothing hard to understand in it. Such a thing has been heard of before--and found, I suppose. A little boy, two years old.'

'No,' I said, 'I have heard nothing of one. A child two years old?

Why, it could not go alone; it could not walk!'

In the darkness, which is a wonderful sharpener of ears, I heard the man move hastily. 'No,' he said with a stern note in his voice, 'I suppose not; I suppose it could not. At any rate, you have not heard of it?'

'No,' I said, 'certainly not.'

'If it had been found Heritzburg way,' he continued jealously, 'you would have, I suppose?'

'I should have--if any one,' I answered.

'Thank you,' he said curtly. 'That is all now. Good night.'

And suddenly, with that only, and no warning or further farewell, he turned and strode off. I heard him go plunging through the last year's leaves, and the noise told me that he trod them sternly and heavily, with the foot of a man disappointed, and not for the first time.

'It must be his child,' I thought, looking after him.

I waited until the last sound of his retreat had died away, and then I made my own way back to the camp. As chance would have it, I hit it close to the servants' fire, and before I could turn was espied by some of those who sat at it. One, a stout, swarthy fellow, with bright black eyes, and a small feather in his cap, sprang up and came towards me.

'Why so shy, comrade?' he cried, with a hiccough in his voice.

'Himmel! There are a pair of us!' And he raised his hand and laid it on my head--with an effort, for I am six feet and two inches. 'Peace!'

and he touched me on the breast. 'War!' and he touched himself. 'And a good broad piece you are, and a big piece, and a heavy piece, I'll warrant!' he continued.

'I might say the same for you!' I retorted, suffering him to lead me to the fire.