Part 51 (1/2)

The old commandant called Zaklika to have a gla.s.s of beer and play the usual game of draughts. The sergeant who locked the doors and brought the key usually found them absorbed in the game, which lasted late into the night.

The evening was beautiful. Zaklika played absentmindedly, listening to the smallest noise in the castle, and the commandant, winning each time, laughed at him.

”What is the matter with you to-day?” he asked.

”I have a headache.”

Having played a few games, they began to chat. Wehlen filled his pipe.

The night was growing dark; they lighted candles. Henry was absent, and this was unusual.

”I am sure he went to town,” said the commandant. ”He is weary here, and I prefer him to go out rather than sigh at that proud lady, who imagines she is a queen and does not deign to look at anybody.”

Zaklika did not answer.

Everything was quiet in the castle, and the time at which the old corporal used to bring the keys was near; there was a knock at the door.

The old soldier, looking like a highway robber--a mercenary who had seen military service in every country, entered. He was pale, and his face was strangely twisted. The expression of it struck Zaklika; he was horrified.

The commandant did not like him. His name was Wurm.

”I have to make a serious report,” said Wurm.

”What is going on?” cried the commandant, rus.h.i.+ng from his chair.

”At this moment your nephew is running away with the Countess Cosel!”

The commandant rushed to the door like a madman.

”It is no use to hasten,” laughed Wurm savagely. ”I knew it would come to that, and I watched them; I am sure of a good reward.”

”It is an impudent lie!” cried the commandant.

”I have done my duty,” said Wurm coolly. ”At this moment the soldiers are keeping them in the pa.s.sage behind the chapel, and Captain Henry, who is so fond of giving me slaps on the face, will be shot.”

The corporal smiled with h.e.l.lish delight. The commandant trembled, and knew not what to do. The fear of his beloved nephew made him almost crazy.

”Captain von Zaklika,” cried he, ”help me! save him!”

”It cannot be done,” said the corporal. ”Tomorrow the King and the whole Court will know about it. Too many people have seen it. I have fixed everything right. I have avenged myself, and if you like to be avenged on me, I am ready for anything.”

At that moment there was a noise in the direction of the tower. The soldiers were conducting the prisoners. The Countess was pale, and Henry was staggering, for he had wounded himself with a pistol, and he would surely have killed himself had they not bound his hands.

Cosel was behaving like a mad woman; Henry stood quietly. The old commandant came to him wringing his hands. Zaklika was behind them; he pitied the poor boy who had fallen into the snare. n.o.body looked at Wurm, who smiled triumphantly and cynically.

The uncle was obliged to put his nephew into prison and send a report to Dresden. He was unable to write it himself; the old soldier cried like a child. He called the secretary, and, sobbing and cursing, he accused his nephew, begging for mercy and giving as a reason his youth, and putting his own services in the balance. He did not spare his own blindness; but finally he accused the corporal, who, instead of preventing the misfortune, dishonestly waited for it in order to profit by it.

The sentries were doubled, and they pa.s.sed the night in uneasiness.