Deserted and empty stood the camp before Frederickshall, as Arwed and
the two other officers rode into it. Baggage-men and other camp
followers swarmed about the barracks, searching for whatever their late
inhabitants might have left behind them worth the finding. The flag of
Denmark waved from the Golden Lion, and some companies in the Danish
hunting dress were leveling the Swedish embankments and closing up the
trenches which it had cost so much time and trouble to open.
'What is that?' cried Arwed with surprise and displeasure. 'Has our
army been beaten, that they have raised the siege whose successful
termination was so near?'
'I had expected it,' answered lieutenant Bioernskioeld with a lowering
countenance: 'but not so soon. The army has marched back to Sweden.'
'How have the times changed!' said Arwed sorrowfully. 'Ninety years
ago, the dead Gustavus Adolphus inspired his army and urged it to
continual contests and glorious victories,--and now it seems that old
Swedish courage and the heroic spirit of her king have flown together,
and that the laurels gained under his guidance are yielded in shameful
flight.'
'I hope, captain,' said Baumgardt, scornfully, 'that you do not presume
to deride the commands of the fieldmarshal. Presumptuous censure of a
commander, is in the army called mutiny, and according to our articles
of war the punishment therefor is death.'
'You are now on duty, colonel,' said Arwed, with difficulty suppressing
his anger. 'I shall therefore hold myself prepared to answer your
reproach on a more suitable occasion.'
Some Danish rifle balls from the trenches at this moment whistling
about their heads, broke off the conversation. The horsemen silently
hastened out of the precincts of the deserted camp, and trotted briskly
towards the east, after the retreating army.