Part 54 (1/2)
The Sister started a little.
”I will stay,” she murmured. ”Send this despatch when you go out.
Can he live?”
They whispered together a moment, stepping softly to the door of the room where Lorraine lay.
”It can't be helped now,” said the surgeon, looking at Lorraine; ”she'll be well enough by to-morrow; she must stay with you. The chances are that he will die.”
The trample of the White Cuira.s.siers in the street outside filled the room; the serried squadrons thundered past, steel ringing on steel, horses neighing, trumpets sounding the ”Royal March.”
Lorraine's eyes unclosed.
”Jack!”
There was no answer.
The surgeon whispered to the Sister of Mercy: ”Don't forget to hang out the pest flag.”
”Jack! Jack!” wailed Lorraine, sitting up in bed. Through the tangled ma.s.ses of her heavy hair, gilded by the morning suns.h.i.+ne, her eyes, bright with fever, roamed around the room, startled, despairing. Under the window the White Cuira.s.siers were singing as they rode:
”Flieg', Adler, flieg'! Wir sturmen nach, Ein einig Volk in Waffen, Wir sturmen nach ob tausendfach Des Todes Pforten Klaffen!
Und fallen wir, flieg', Adler, flieg'!
Aus unserm Blute machst der Sieg!
Vorwarts!
Flieg', Adler, flieg'!
Victoria!
Victoria!
Mit uns ist Gott!”
Terrified, turning her head from side to side, Lorraine stretched out her hands. She tried to speak, but her ears were filled with the deep voices shouting the splendid battle-hymn--
”Fly, Eagle! fly!
With us is G.o.d!”
She crept out of bed, her bare feet white with cold, her bare arms flushed and burning. Blinded by the blaze of the rising sun, she felt her way around the room, calling, ”Jack! Jack!” The window was open; she crept to it. The street was a surging, scintillating torrent of steel.
”G.o.d with us!”
The White Cuira.s.siers shook their glittering sabres; the melancholy trumpet's blast swept skyward; the standards flapped.
Suddenly the stony street trembled with the outcrash of drums; the cuira.s.siers halted, the steel-mailed squadrons parted right and left; a carriage drove at a gallop through the opened ranks.
Lorraine leaned from the window; the officer in the carriage looked up.
As the fallen Emperor's eyes met Lorraine's, she stretched out both little bare arms and cried: ”Vive la France!”--and he was gone to his captivity, the White Cuira.s.siers galloping on every side.