"But is there shooting with it all?" asked Stadinger, with such anxious mien that the two officers laughed aloud.

"Yes, shots are being exchanged, too," confirmed Waldorf. "You seem to have great fear of them, yet you are at a safe distance."

"I?" The old man drew himself up, deeply offended.

"I wish I could be in the midst of it also."

"Perhaps to protect your much loved Highness. The Prince would decline that. You would hold on to his coat tails and cry continually, 'Take care, Your Highness, there comes a ball.' That would look fine!"

"Herr Lieutenant," said the old man, so seriously that the gay tease was silenced, "you should not do that to an old hunter who has often climbed after the chamois, and has fired his gun when he had scarcely a foot's breadth of ground to stand on; I feel so depressed and anxious to-day. I wish the day would end."

"Well, it was not meant so seriously," said Eugene, soothingly. "We believe you, Stadinger; you do not look like a man who is afraid. But you must not speak to us about your depressing presentiments. One does not think of them after one has stood so many times in the shower of bullets. When we are happily at home again, I will come to my sister at Ostwalden, and we will then be good neighbors with Rodeck. The Prince loves his old forest nook so well. And now abandon your anxiety, for there he comes already."

Rapid steps were heard on the stairs outside; the old man sighed with relief. But it was only Egon's attendant who appeared in the open door.

"Well, has His Highness arrived?" asked Waldorf; but Stadinger did not allow the man time to answer. He had cast one glance at his face--only a single one--then suddenly grasped his hand with a convulsive clutch.

"What is it? Where--where is my master?"

The man shook his head sadly and pointed silently to the window, to which both officers hastened with fear and dread. But Stadinger lost no time. He dashed out down the stairs, into the little garden which lay before the house, and with a loud, bitter cry sank upon his knees at the side of a stretcher, upon which there lay a slender, youthful figure.

"Quietly," said the physician who had accompanied the sad group.

"Control yourself--the Prince is seriously wounded."

"I see it," gasped the faithful old servant; "but not fatally--oh, say not fatally. Only tell me that, Herr Doctor!"

He looked up to the surgeon with such despairing entreaty that the latter had not courage to tell him the truth, but turned to the two officers who now hastened near and overwhelmed him with low, anxious questioning.

"A ball in the breast," he explained, in the same tone. "The Prince begged to be brought to his quarters, and we have used all possible care in the moving; but it will bring the end more quickly than I thought."

"Fatal?" asked Waldorf.

"Beyond a doubt."

The surgeon gave the bearers who prepared to take their charge into the house, a sign to desist.

"Stop, the Prince seems to have something to say to his old servant, and there are no moments to lose."

Stadinger saw and heard nothing of what happened at his side. He looked only upon his master.

Egon seemed to be unconscious. The light hair had become disheveled, the eyes were closed, and beneath the cloak with which he had been covered, and which had partly fallen open, the blood-stained uniform could be seen.

"Your Highness," besought Stadinger, softly, according to the doctor's warning, but with heartbreaking accents, "only look at me! Speak to me!

It is I--Stadinger."

The well-known voice found its way to the ear of the desperately wounded man. Slowly his eyes opened, and a slight smile flitted over his features as he recognized the old man who knelt at his side.

"My old Waldgeist," he whispered, "did you have to come--to see this?"

"But you will not die, Your Highness," murmured Stadinger, his whole body a-tremble, but never removing his eyes from his dying master; "no--do not die--surely not!"

"Do you think that it is hard?" said Egon, calmly. "Yesterday--you saw quite correctly--my heart felt heavy; but now it is light. Give my love to Rodeck--and to my forests and--to her, too, the mistress of Ostwalden."

"Whom? Frau Wallmoden?" asked Stadinger, almost terrified at this turn.

"Yes--take her my last greeting--tell her to think of me sometimes."

The words came painfully--brokenly--from the lips which seemed to almost refuse their duty; but they left no doubt as to the meaning of the last greeting.

Eugene had started when he heard the name of his sister, and now bent low over the dying man, who saw the brother of Adelaide--recognized the features which resembled hers so much--and again a smile pa.s.sed over his face. Then he leaned his fair head quietly and calmly on the breast of his old Waldgeist, and the beautiful blue eyes closed forever.

It had been a short, painless struggle--almost a falling asleep.

Stadinger had not moved--had not uttered a sound, for he knew it would hurt his young master, whom he had borne in his arms as a child, and who now drew his last breath in those arms. But, when all was over, the composure of the old man gave way. He threw himself despairingly upon the body and wept like a child.

CHAPTER LVIII.

Over on the other side of the mountain pa.s.ses also the winter sun shone clear and bright upon the new achievements which the victorious German troops had acquired.

The negotiations with the commander of R---- had been brought to an end, and the fortress had surrendered. The captive garrison moved out, while a portion of the victors had already marched in.

General Falkenried stood in the main square of the lower town with his staff, about to move also into the fortress. The helmets and arms of the troops who were on their way into the citadel glittered in the sunshine. Falkenried issued various orders, then took his stand at the head of his staff and gave the signal to march.

But now there came a horseman in furious haste over the main road; the n.o.ble animal he rode was covered with sweat and foam, and his sides bled from the cruel spurs which had hurried him on and on when his strength threatened to desert him. The face also of the rider was disfigured by the blood trickling from beneath the cloth that had been wound around the forehead.

He came flying, as if driven by a tornado, and everything fled from before him until he reached the open square, dashed through the midst of the officers straight up to the General. A few steps from the end of the journey the strength of the n.o.ble horse failed, he broke down completely; but at the same moment the rider sprang from the saddle and hastened toward the commander.

"From the Commanding General."

Falkenried started at the first word. He had not recognized the blood-covered face; he only saw that the man who dashed up as if for life or death must bring an important message. But at the sound of that voice, an idea of the truth flashed upon him.

Hartmut swayed and laid his hand for a moment on his brow; it seemed as if he were about to break down, too, like his horse. But he recovered with an effort.

"The General sends word to be cautious--betrayal is planned--the fortress will be blown up as soon as its garrison has moved off. Here is the dispatch."

He tore a paper from his breast and gave it to Falkenried. The officers had become violently excited at the awful news, and pressed around their chief as if expecting to hear from him confirmation of the incredible report. But they had a strange sight before them.

The General, whose iron composure they all knew--who never lost control of himself--had turned deathly pale, and stared at the speaker as if a spirit had risen before him from the ground, while he held the paper unopened in his hand.

"Herr General--the dispatch!"

One of the adjutants who understood the proceedings as little as the others, gently reminded him; but it was enough to bring Falkenried back to consciousness. He tore the dispatch open and glanced it over, and was now again the soldier who knew nothing but his duty.

With full, firm voice he gave his orders. The officers galloped right and left; signals and commands resounded in all directions, and in a few moments the last detachment of soldiers came to a standstill. Upon the fortress sounded the signal of alarm. Neither friend nor foe knew what it meant. Did it not appear as if the so recently conquered place was to be vacated at once? But the orders were executed with the usual alacrity and dispatch; the movements were completed with perfect composure, in spite of the haste, and the troops turned back into the town.

Falkenried was still in the open square, giving orders, receiving reports, watching and guiding everything with his eyes. But still he found a moment's time to turn to his son, to whom he had not as yet given any sign of recognition.