Part 54 (1/2)

Stadinger saw and heard nothing of what was going on around him, he saw only his master. Egon appeared to be unconscious; the blonde hair was thrown back, the eyes were closed, and under the mantle with which the man had covered him was the blood-soaked uniform.

”Your highness!” said the old man in low, heart-rending tones. ”Look at me, speak to me! It is your old Stadinger.”

The well-known voice found its way to the dying man's ear; he opened his eyes slowly, and a faint smile crossed his face as he recognized his faithful servant.

”My old ghost of the woods,” he said softly; ”and you are with me at the last.”

”But you'll not die, your highness,” murmured Stadinger. His whole body was in a tremble, but he never took his eyes from his adored master.

”No, you will not die, you will not die .'”

”Do you think it is so hard?” said Egon quietly. ”Yesterday you were quite right, a burden was on my heart, now it is light. Take a greeting to dear Rodeck, and the forest, and to the lady of Ostwalden.”

”To whom? To Frau von Wallmoden?” asked Stadinger, thinking he had not heard aright.

”Yes, tell her I send her my last greeting; she must think of me sometimes.”

The words came slowly, brokenly, from the lips which would so soon refuse to do further service, but there was no mistaking their full significance. Eugen was startled when he heard his sister's name, and bent over the dying man, who looked into the countenance which so resembled Adelheid's, and again a smile lighted his face. Then he raised his head and laid it heavily on the breast of his old ghost of the woods, and the sunny blue eyes closed forever.

It was a short, painless battle with death, a peaceful falling to sleep.

Stadinger hardly breathed while life remained in the body of him he had nursed as a babe and cherished as a man, but was to lose forever now.

When all was over the old man lost control of himself, and threw himself in despair on the body of his beloved master, and sobbed like a child.

Yonder, on the other side of the mountain-pa.s.s, the clear, bright winter sun lighted up the citadel which had just surrendered to the German troops. The garrison which had occupied it were marching off prisoners of war, while a portion of the victors were already on their way to the fort.

General von Falkenried, surrounded by his staff, was standing in the market-place of the little city, and was just on the point of marching to the fortress. The helmets and guns of the men gleamed brightly in the morning sun as they marched in solemn order toward the citadel.

General von Falkenried, who had been giving various orders, now turned to his officers and gave the signal to move forward.

At that moment a rider came das.h.i.+ng down the main street at a mad galop.

His n.o.ble horse was covered with sweat and froth, and his flanks were bleeding from the sharp spurs which had been pressed into his side. The rider's face was covered with blood, too, which evidently came from a wound in the forehead which had been hastily bound with a cloth. As if fleeing before a storm, he heeded naught in his path, but rushed on in his mad ride toward the market-place where the commanding general was to be found.

Just a few steps from his goal the horse's strength gave out and he fell. But in the same instant the rider had sprung from the saddle, and hastened to the commander-in-chief.

”I come from General M----.”

Falkenried drew a sharp, quick breath; he had not recognized the blood-stained face, he only knew that the man must have come on some important mission, but the tone of the man's voice gave him some premonition of the truth.

Hartmut swayed for a moment and put his hand to his head--it seemed as if he, like his horse, would succ.u.mb at the last moment; but he gathered himself together for a final effort.

”It is a warning from the general--there is treachery, the citadel is to be blown up as soon as our men are in it--here are the dispatches.”

He tore the dispatches from his breast and handed them to Falkenried.

The officers were startled by the unexpected news, and gathered around their chief waiting the corroboration or denial of the statement just made, but a strange sight met their eyes. Their general, who never lost his presence of mind, no matter how unexpected or how dreadful the calamity which he faced, stood gazing at the orderly as if a ghost had risen from the earth, still holding the unopened dispatches in his hand.

”Herr General, the dispatches!” said one of the adjutants, half aloud.

He understood his leader as little as did the others. It was enough to bring Falkenried to his senses. He tore open the dispatches and learned their contents in a second, then again he was a soldier who thought of nothing but duty. He gave his orders in a loud, clear voice, the officers hurried hither and thither, cries of command were given, and signals sounded in every direction, and a few minutes later the division marching to the fortress was brought to a standstill, while the withdrawing garrison was also brought to a sudden halt.