The next few days were gloomy with misty, rainy weather, and Count
Schlichting grumbled incessantly at the enforced idleness of his
command. Arno and Kurt employed the time in improving their knowledge
of each other, and passed many a pleasant hour together with Count
Styrum in exploring the park and gardens of the castle, which were
remarkably fine and spacious. On returning from one of these walks
about a week after their arrival at Assais, they found the castle
court-yard a scene of much bustle and excitement, and learned that
orders had arrived recalling the Saxon regiment to Nontron and
Chalus,--orders that had been received with enthusiasm, since they
pointed to a general massing of forces preparatory to a move upon the
French army of the north. The colonel came into the dining-hall with a
very cheerful countenance, and, taking his seat with the Uhlan captain,
Von Saeben, and several officers, drank a bumper to an energetic
continuance of the war, and to its speedy victorious termination.
The Uhlan captain alone was depressed, and with good cause; for while
the Saxon regiment was to take up its march to Nontron on the following
morning, the squadron of Uhlans was to remain at Assais until further
orders, to prevent the formation of bands of franctireurs in the
surrounding country. Although this was an honourable service, it was
one that could be crowned by no laurels, and life in the castle, after
the departure of the Saxon officers, would be by no means attractive.
The captain's only hope was that the colonel might be right in
declaring that before many days the Uhlans also would be withdrawn from
so advanced a post.
Kurt von Poseneck too was greatly disappointed at the prospect of
losing sight of Arno von Hohenwald. He had so rejoiced in the
new-formed friendship with his betrothed's brother, and now it was to
be thus nipped in the bud. As soon as was possible without
churlishness, Styrum, Arno, and Kurt withdrew from the circle of their
comrades on this last evening and passed together a farewell quiet
hour. When they separated Arno pressed Kurt's hand. "We shall perhaps
not see each other to-morrow," he said; "let us say farewell to-night;
only for a short time, I trust. When you send a letter to the Rhine
remember to send my greetings in it, and in return I will send yours to
Celia, and tell her that the greatest pleasure I have had during the
campaign has been to learn to know and to cordially like my future
brother-in-law. Farewell, Kurt!"
The three had lingered longer together than they had intended, and when
they separated at the foot of the staircase leading to Styrum's and
Arno's apartments perfect quiet reigned throughout the castle. Kurt's
room was at the end of a long corridor on this second floor, and as he
walked along it his steps sounded so loud in the intense stillness that
he took care to make his tread as light as possible, lest he should
arouse his sleeping comrades. The corridor was very long, and his room
lay next to his captain's, the windows of both looking out upon the
court-yard. The night had grown cloudy, and the long window before him,
that would have given some light if the weather had been clear, was of
no use to illuminate the darkness around him, but Kurt cared little
since he could not possibly miss his door, the second from the end on
his right. He had reached about the middle of the passage when his
attention was roused by a noise upon his left; he thought he heard
approaching footsteps. He paused and listened; yes, he was right; a
door opened softly upon his left; he had a momentary glimpse of a
spacious, dimly-lighted apartment, and Monsieur Gervais stood before
him holding a lantern, the light of which fell full upon the young
officer. The man was evidently much startled, but quickly regaining his
self-possession, bowed with the courtesy he always displayed to the
Prussian officers, and offered to light the lieutenant to his room,
excusing himself for having, under the impression that every one in the
castle had retired to rest, extinguished the lights.
He then preceded Kurt with his lantern, and only left him when he had
lighted the candle in the young man's room.
Why had the Frenchman been so startled, so evidently frightened, at
first sight of a Prussian officer? and whence came Monsieur Gervais?
These were questions which Kurt asked himself as soon as he was left
alone,--questions which he could not answer. It occurred to him that,
confident in their numbers, the officers quartered in the castle had
neglected many precautions that prudence would have suggested. Not one
of them had hitherto thought it worth while to explore all the rooms
and passages of the huge old castle. All had been content with the
comfortable quarters assigned them by Monsieur Gervais, and had not
reflected upon the facilities that the other rooms might afford for
concealing spies and traitors. Kurt determined to use the first
unemployed hours of the following day in exploring the castle
thoroughly, and particularly in ascertaining whence the door led at
which Monsieur Gervais had appeared. As far as he could judge at
present, the large room, of which he had had a glimpse, must be
traversed to reach the wing built out into the park, at present
inhabited by the Baron de Nouart.
With the determination to atone for a neglected duty he ceased to think
of Monsieur Gervais or of danger threatening him; he dwelt rather upon
Arno's last words to him; his heart beat at the thought that he had
accepted him as a brother-in-law, and Celia's lovely image accompanied
him to the land of dreams.
He never suspected that Monsieur Gervais was standing outside his
bedroom-door listening with bated breath to every movement of the young
officer, and that his ear was not removed from the key-hole until the
long, regular breathing inside told him he had nothing to fear from the
Uhlan's wakefulness. The enemy slept. Monsieur Gervais could now pursue
his way unmolested, but he would guard against a second surprise. He
put the lantern on the floor, took off his boots, and in his stockings
glided swiftly to the grand staircase, which he mounted to the very
topmost story of the castle, then through a labyrinth of lumber-rooms
he reached the door of a retired apartment; here he knocked softly
three times; a bolt inside was drawn and the door opened. "Is all
secure?" was whispered in the steward's ear.
"Yes; they are all asleep at last," was the whispered reply. "There is
no time to waste; take off your boots; you must go in your stockings as
I do."
"Whither are you taking me?" the man asked.
"Down-stairs and through the blue room to the Baron."
"Why not down the back-stairs, as I came up?"
"Because two sentinels were placed there this very after noon. Quick!
quick! we have no time to parley; the Baron has been expecting you for
more than an hour."
The maire, for it was Fournier, of whom Repuin had spoken to Sorr,
obeyed. In his stockings he noiselessly followed his conductor, who
cautiously guided him down the grand staircase to the door of the blue
room, at which Gervais had appeared before Kurt. When it had admitted
them and was closed behind them, the steward gave a sigh of relief. No
officers were quartered in this wing; he paused and handed the lantern
to the maire, saying, in a low tone, "Now you can find your way to the
Baron without my help. I will slip back to my room in the darkness."
"Are you not coming with me to the Baron?"
"No; it is unnecessary; he knows all that I have been able to discover;
he will tell you what you ought to know. Farewell, Monsieur Fournier; I
will go and pray the saints to get you safely out of the castle."
"I shall get off safely; at least these cursed Germans shall never
capture me alive, and woe to the man who attempts to detain me! I will
not die unavenged!"
The two men separated, and the maire pursued his way to the door of the
Baron's room, where he found instant admittance.
De Nouart was pacing restlessly to and fro; he had been awaiting
Fournier for more than an hour, and had begun to fear that some
accident had befallen him. "At last you are come!" he exclaimed. "I was
almost crazed with terror lest you had been discovered!"
"No one suspects that I am in the castle."
"Thank God! If I could but know you once in the forest and on the way
to our friends, I should indeed bless my lucky star! We have all taken
our lives in our hands, maire."
"And what of that? To-day or to-morrow what matter? I would rather it
were to-day, but that I have some hope of vengeance upon these accursed
Germans."
"You will have abundant opportunity for that," the Baron rejoined; "but
you have a long journey to make to-night."
"Be quick, then; tell me my errand and let me be gone," the man said,
gloomily.
"You can serve your desire for revenge upon your boy's murderers in no
way more surely than by carrying the important intelligence to Count
Repuin that the enemy is to depart to-morrow morning early for Nontron
and Chalus; the Uhlans only are to remain in Assais, and this probably
only for a few days. All this Gervais has learned from the colonel
himself. If Count Repuin has collected a sufficient force to make an
attack, he must be quick about it or he will find no foes in Assais."
The thought that the hated Prussians might escape lent wings to the
maire's resolve; he leaped from the window, as Count Repuin had
formerly done, and vanished the next instant in the mist. Again, as
formerly, did the Baron listen, lest a shot should tell of the
discovery of the fugitive, whom in truth he cared for as little as for
that other, and yet for whose safety he trembled. His anxiety was
unnecessary, the deep silence of the forest was unbroken.
He turned from the window and gave himself up to reflection upon the
dangers that encompassed him. Had he done right in apprising Repuin of
the intended departure of the Saxons? If the Count should make the
attack and be repulsed, would not Prussian vengeance first strike the
French inmates of the castle? It had been folly to incite the Count to
an attack! But no, whatever came of it he must keep his word to the
Russian. Prussian vengeance he might escape; the Russian's never. He
was bound body and soul to this man whom he hated; he could not free
himself from the chain.
His head ached with the thoughts that crowded upon him; he was terribly
weary and exhausted. There was one way to cure this dull pain, one
means to scare away this terrible weakness; but he had promised not to
use it. A single glass of the fiery liquid in the flask on the
sideboard would send the blood dancing in his veins again; a single
glass! Repuin was far away, there was not the slightest danger
threatening for the moment; was he an utter slave to the Russian? No;
he would endure it no longer. He poured out a glass from the flask and
emptied it at a draught. Ah, this was strength and courage to face the
future! Another and another. He had not slept o'nights of late, now he
began to feel delightfully drowsy. By the time the flask was finished
he had slipped from his arm-chair to the floor, where he lay until the
following day.