A PROMISE KEPT
The room in which John was confined contained only a bed, a chair and a
table. It was lighted by a single window, from which he could see
numerous soldiers below. He also heard the distant mutter of the cannon,
which seemed now to have become a part of nature. There were periods of
excitement or of mental detachment, when he did not notice it, but it
was always there. Now the soldiers in the grounds were moving but
little, and the air pulsed with the thud of the great guns.
He recalled again his promise, or rather threat, to Auersperg that he
would escape. Instinctively he went to the narrow but tall window and
glanced at the heavens. Then he knew that impulse had made him look for
Lannes and the _Arrow_, and he laughed at his own folly. Even if Lannes
knew where they were he could not slip prisoners out of a house,
surrounded by watchful German troops.
He heard the heavy key turning in the lock, and a silent soldier brought
him food, which he put upon the table. The man remained beside the door
until John had eaten his supper, when he took the dishes and withdrew.
He had not spoken a word while he was in the room, but as he was passing
out John said:
"Good-bye, Pickelbaube! Let's have no ill feeling between you and me."
The German--honest peasant that he was--grinned and nodded. He could not
understand the English words, but he gathered from John's tone that they
were friendly, and he responded at once. But when he closed the door
behind him John heard the heavy key turning in the lock again. He knew
there was little natural hostility between the people of different
nations. It was instilled into them from above.
Food brought back new strength and new courage. He took his place again
at the window which was narrow and high, cut through a deep wall. The
illusion of the Middle Ages, which Auersperg had created so completely,
returned. This was the dungeon in a castle and he was a prisoner doomed
to death by its lord. Some dismounted Uhlans who were walking across the
grounds with their long lances over their shoulders gave another touch
to this return of the past, as the first rays of the moonlight glittered
on helmet and lance-head.
He was not sleepy at all, and staying by the window he kept a strange
watch. He saw white flares appear often on a long line in the west. He
knew it was the flashing of the searchlights, and he surmised that what
he saw was meant for signals. The fighting would go on under steady
light continued long, and that it would continue admitted of no doubt.
He could hear the mutter of the guns, ceaseless like the flowing of a
river.
He saw the battery drive out of the grounds, then turn into the road
before the château and disappear. He concluded that the cannon were
needed at some weak point where the Franco-British army was pressing
hard.
Then a company of hussars came from the forest and rode quietly into the
grounds, where they dismounted. John saw that many, obviously the
wounded, were helped from their horses. In battle, he concluded, and not
so far off. Perhaps not more than two or three miles. Rifle-fire, with
the wind blowing the wrong way, would not be heard that distance.
The hussars, leading their horses, disappeared in a wood behind the
house, and they were followed presently by a long train of automobiles,
moving rather slowly. The moonlight was very bright now and John saw
that they were filled with wounded who stirred but little and who made
no outcry. The line of motors turned into the place and they too
disappeared behind the château, following the hussars.
Two aeroplanes alighted on the grass and their drivers entered the
house. Bearers of dispatches, John felt sure, and while he watched he
saw both return, spring into their machines and fly away. Their
departure caused him to search the heavens once more, and he knew that
he was looking for Lannes, who could not come.
Now von Arnheim passed down the graveled walk that led to the great
central gate, but, half way, turned from it and began to talk to some
sentinels who stood on the grass. He was certainly a fine fellow, tall,
well built, and yet free from the German stoutness of figure. He wore a
close uniform of blue-gray which fitted him admirably, and the moonlight
fell in a flood on his handsome, ruddy face.
"I hope you won't be killed," murmured John. "If there is any French
shell or shrapnel that is labeled specially for a prince and that must
have a prince, I pray it will take Auersperg in place of von Arnheim."
It was a serious prayer and he felt that it was without a trace of
wickedness or sacrilege. Evidently von Arnheim was giving orders of
importance, as two of the men, to whom he was talking, hurried to
horses, mounted and galloped down the road. Then the young prince walked
slowly back to the house and John could see that he was very thoughtful.
He passed his hand in a troubled way two or three times across his
forehead. Perhaps the medieval prince inside was putting upon the modern
prince outside labors that he was far from liking.
John's unformed plan of escape included Julie Lannes. He could not go
away without her. If he did he could never face Lannes again, and what
was more, he could never face himself. It was in reality this thought
that made his resolve to escape seem so difficult. It had been lurking
continuously in the back of his head. To go away without Julie was
impossible. Under ordinary circumstances her situation as a prisoner
would not be alarming. Germans regarded women with respect. They had
done so from the earliest times, as he had learned from the painful
study of Tacitus. Von Arnheim had received a deep impression from
Julie's beauty and grace. John could tell it by his looks, but those
looks were honest. They came from the eyes and heart of one who could do
no wrong. But the other! The man of the Middle Ages, the older prince.
He was different. War re-created ancient passions and gave to them
opportunities. No, he could not think of leaving without Julie!
He kept his place at the tall, narrow window, and the night was steadily
growing brighter. A full, silver moon was swinging high in the heavens.
The stars were out in myriads in that sky of dusky, infinite blue, and
danced regardless of the tiny planet, Earth, shaken by battle. From the
hills came the relentless groaning which he knew was the sound of the
guns, fighting one another under the searchlights.
Then he heard the clatter of hoofs, and another company of Uhlans rode
up to the château. Their leader dismounted and entered the great gate.
John recognized von Boehlen, who had taken off his helmet to let the
cool air blow upon his close-cropped head. He stood on the graveled walk
for a few minutes directly in a flood of silver rays, every feature
showing clearly. He had been arrogant and domineering, but John liked
him far better than Auersperg. His cruelty would be the cruelty of
battle, and there might be a streak of sentimentalism hidden under the
stiff and harsh German manner, like a vein of gold in rock. As von
Boehlen resumed his approach to the house he passed from John's range of
vision, and then the prisoner watched the horizon for anything that he
might see. Twice he beheld the far flare of searchlights, but nobody
else came to the château, and the night darkened somewhat. No rattle of
arms or stamp of hoofs came from the hussars in the grounds, and he
judged that all but the sentinels slept. Nor was there any sound of
movement in the house, and in the peaceful silence he at last began to
feel sleepy. The problems of his position were too great for him to
solve--at least for the present--and lying down on the cot he was fast
asleep before he knew it.
Youth does not always sleep soundly, and the tension of John's nerves
continued long after he lapsed into unconsciousness. That, perhaps, was
the reason why he awoke at once when the heavy key began to turn again
in the lock. He sat up on the cot--he had not undressed--and his hand
instinctively slipped to his belt, where there was no weapon.
The key was certainly turning in the lock, and then the door was
opening! A shadow appeared in the space between door and wall, and
John's first feeling was of apprehension. An atmosphere of suspicion had
been created about him and he considered his life in much more danger
there than it had been when he was first a prisoner.
The door closed again quickly and softly, but somebody was inside the
room, somebody who had a light, feline step, and John felt the prickling
of the hair at the back of his neck. He longed for a weapon, something
better than only his two hands, but he was reassured when the intruder,
speaking French, called in a whisper:
"Are you awake, Mr. Scott?"
It was surely not the voice and words of one who had come to do murder,
and John felt a thrill of recognition.
"Weber!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, it's Weber, Mr. Scott."
"How under the sun did you get here, Weber?"
"By pretending to be a German. I'm an Alsatian, you know, and it's not
difficult. I'm doing work for France. It's terribly dangerous. My life
is on the turn of a hair every moment, but I'm willing to take the risk.
I did not know you were here until late tonight, when I came to the
château to see if I could discover anything further about the numbers
and movements of the enemy. You must get away now. I think I can help
you to escape."
There was a tone in Weber's voice that aroused John's curiosity.
"It's good of you, Weber," he said, "to take such a risk for me, but why
is it so urgent that I escape tonight?"
"I've learned since I came to the château that the Prince of Auersperg
is much inflamed against you. Perhaps you spoke to him in a way that
gave offense to his dignity. Ah, sir, the members of these ancient royal
houses, those of the old type, consider themselves above and beyond the
other people of the earth. In Germany you cannot offend them without
risk, and it may be, too, that you stand in his way in regard to
something that he very much desires!"
Although Weber spoke in a whisper his voice was full of energy and
earnestness. His words sank with the weight of truth into John's heart.
"Can you really help me to escape?" he asked.
"I think so. I'm sure of it. The guards in the house are relaxed at this
late hour, and they would seem needless anyhow with so many sentinels
outside."
"But, Weber, Julie Lannes, the sister of Philip Lannes, is here a
prisoner also. She was taken when I was. She is a Red Cross nurse, and
although the Germans would not harm a woman, I do not like to leave her
in this château. Your Prince of Auersperg does not seem to belong to our
later age."
"Perhaps not. He holds strongly for the old order, but the young von
Arnheim is here also. His is a devoted German heart, but his German eyes
have looked with admiration, nay more, upon a French face. He will
protect that beautiful young Mademoiselle Julie with his life against
anybody, against his senior in military rank, the Prince of Auersperg
himself. Sir, you must come! If you wish to help Philip Lannes' sister
you can be of more help to her living than dead. If you linger here you
surely disappear from men tomorrow!"
"How do you know these things, Weber?"
"I have been in the house three or four hours and there is talk among
the soldiers. I pray you, don't hesitate longer!"
"How can you find a way?"
"Wait a minute."
He slipped back to the door, opened it and looked into the hall.
"The path is clear," he said, when he returned. "There is no sentinel
near your door, and I've found a way leading out of the château at the
back. Most of these old houses have crooked, disused passages."
"But suppose we succeed in reaching the outside, Weber, what then? The
place is surrounded by an army."
"A way is there, too. One man in the darkness can pass through a
multitude. We can't delay, because another chance may not come!"
John was overborne. Weber was half pulling him toward the door.
Moreover, there was much sense in what the Alsatian said. It was a
commonplace that he could be of more service to Julie alive than dead,
and the man's insistence deciding him, he crept with the Alsatian into
the hall. They stood a few minutes in the dark, listening, but no sound
came. Evidently the house slept well.
"This way, Mr. Scott," whispered Weber, and he led toward the rear of
the house. Turning the corner of the hall he opened a small door in the
wall, which John would have passed even in the daylight without
noticing.
"Put a hand on my coat and follow me," said Weber.
John obeyed without hesitation, and they ascended a half dozen steps
along a passage so narrow that his shoulders touched the walls. It was
very dark there, but at the top they entered a room into which some
moonlight came, enough for John to see barrels, boxes and bags heaped on
the floor.
"A storeroom," said Weber. "The French are thrifty. The owner of this
house had splendor below, and he has kept provision for it above, almost
concealed by the narrowness of the door and stair. But we'll find a
broader stair on the other side, and then we'll descend through the
kitchen and beyond."
"This looks promising. You're a clever man, Weber, and my debt to you is
too big for me."
"Don't think about it. Be careful and don't make any noise. Here's the
other stair. You'd better hold to my coat again."
They stole softly down the stair, crossed an unused room, went down
another narrow, unused passage, and then, when Weber opened a door, John
felt the cool air of the night blowing upon his face. When the attempt
at escape began, he had not been so enthusiastic, because he was leaving
Julie behind, but with every step his eagerness grew and the free wind
brought with it a sort of intoxication. He did not doubt now that he
would make good his flight. Weber, that fast friend of his, was a
wonderful man. He worked miracles. Everything came out as he predicted
it would, and he would work more miracles.
"Where are we now?" asked John.
"This door is by the side of the kitchens. A little to the left is an
extensive conservatory, nearly all the glass of which has been shattered
by a shell, but that fact makes it all the more useful as a path for
us. If we reach it unobserved we can creep through the mass of flowers
and shrubbery to a large fishpond which lies just beyond it. You're a
good swimmer, as I know--and you can swim along its edge until you reach
the shrubbery on the other side. Then you ought to find an opening by
which you can reach the French army."
"And you, Weber?"
"I? Oh, I must stay here. The Prince of Auersperg is a man of great
importance. He is high in the confidence of the Kaiser. Besides his
royal rank he commands one of the German armies. If I am to secure
precious information for France it must be done in this house."
"Come away with me, Weber. You've risked enough already. They'll catch
you and you know the fate of spies. I feel like a criminal or coward
abandoning you to so much danger, after all that you've done for me."
"Thank you for your good words, Mr. Scott, but it's impossible for me to
go. Keep in the shadow of the wall, and a dozen steps will take you to
the conservatory."
John wrung the Alsatian's hand, stepped out, and pressed himself against
the side of the house. The breeze still blew upon his face, revivifying
and intoxicating. The lazy, feathery clouds were yet drifting before the
moon and stars.
He saw to his right the gleam of a bayonet as a sentinel walked back and
forth and he saw another to his left. His heart beat high with hope. He
was merely a mote in infinite night, and surely they could not see him.
He walked swiftly along in the shadow of the house, and then sprang into
the conservatory, where he crouched between two tall rose bushes. He
waited there a little while, breathing hard, but he had not been
observed. From his rosy shelter he could still see the sentinels on
either side, walking up and down, undisturbed. Around him was a
frightful litter. The shell, the history of which he would never know,
had struck fairly in the center of the place, and it must have burst in
a thousand fragments. Scarcely a pane of glass had been left unbroken,
and the great pots, containing rare fruits and flowers, were mingled
mostly in shattered heaps. It was a pitiable wreck, and it stirred John,
although he had seen so many things so much worse.
He walked a little distance in a stooping position, and then stood up
among some shrubs, tall enough to hide him. He noticed a slight dampness
in the air, and he saw, too, that the feathery clouds were growing
darker. The faint quiver in the air brought with it, as always, the
rumble of the guns, but he believed that it was not a blended sound.
There was real thunder on the horizon, where the French lay, and then he
saw a distant flash, not white like that of a searchlight, but like
yellow lightning. Rain, a storm perhaps, must be at hand. He had read
that nearly all the great battles in the civil war in his own country
had been followed at once by violent storms of thunder, lightning and
rain. Then why not here, where immense artillery combats never ceased?
Near the end of the conservatory he paused and looked back at the house.
Every window was dark. There must be light inside, but shutters were
closed. His heart throbbed with intense gratitude to Weber. Without him
escape would have been impossible. He would make his way to the French.
He would find Lannes and together in some way they would rescue Julie,
Julie so young and so beautiful, held in the castle of the medieval
baron. In the lowering shadows the house became a castle and Auersperg
had always been of the Middle Ages.
The wind freshened and a few drops of rain struck his face. He stood
boldly erect now, unafraid of observation, and picked a way through the
mass of broken glass and overturned shrubbery toward the end of the
conservatory, seeing beyond it a gleam of water which must be the big
fishpond.
He turned to the left and reached the edge of the pond just as four
figures stepped from the dusk, their raised rifles pointing at him. The
shock was so great that, driven by some unknown but saving impulse, he
threw himself forward into the water just as the soldiers fired. He
heard the four rifles roaring together. Then he swam below water to the
far edge of the pond and came up under the shelter of its circling
shrubbery, raising above its surface only enough of his face for breath.
As his eyes cleared he saw the four soldiers standing at the far edge of
the pond, looking at the water. Doubtless they were waiting for his
body to reappear, as his action, half fall, half spring, and the roaring
of the rifles had been so close together that they seemed a blended
movement.
He was trembling all over from intense nervous exertion and excitement,
but his mind steadied enough for him to observe the soldiers.
Undoubtedly they were talking together, as he saw them making the
gestures of men who speak, but, even had he heard them, he could not
have understood their German. They were watching for his body, and as it
did not reappear they might make the circle of the pond looking for it.
He intended, in such an event, to leap out and run, but the elements
were intereceding in his favor. Thunder now preponderated greatly in
that rumble on the western horizon, and a blaze of yellow lightning
played across the surface of the pond. It was followed by a rush of rain
and the soldiers turned back toward the house, evidently sure that they
had not missed.
John drew himself out of the water and climbed up the bank. His knees
gave way under him and he sank to the ground. Excitement and emotion had
been so violent that he was robbed of strength, but the condition lasted
only a minute or two. Then he rose and began to pick a way.
The rain was driving hard, and it had grown so dark that one could not
see far. But he felt that the German sentinels now would seek a little
shelter from the wrath of the skies, and keeping in the shelter of a
hedge he passed by the stables, where many of the hussars and Uhlans
slept, through an orchard, the far side of which was packed with
automobiles, and thence into a wood, where he believed at last that he
was safe.
He stopped here a little while in the lee of a great oak to protect
himself from the driving rain, and he noticed then that it was but a
passing shower, sent, it seemed then to him, as a providential aid. The
part of the rumble that was real thunder was dying. The yellow flare of
the lightning stopped and the rain swept off to the east. The moon and
stars were coming out again.
John tried to see the château, but it was hidden from him by trees. They
would miss him there, and then they would know that it was he whom the
soldiers had fired upon at the edge of the pond. All of them would
believe that he was dead, and he remembered suddenly that Julie, who was
there among them, would believe it, too. Would she grieve? Or would he
merely be one of the human beings passing through her life, fleeting and
forgotten, like the shower that had just gone? It was true that he had
escaped, but he might be killed in some battle before she was rescued
from Auersperg--if she was rescued.
These thoughts were hateful, and turning into the road by which they had
come to the château he ran down it. He ran because he wanted motion,
because he wished to reach the French army as quickly as he could, and
help Lannes organize for the rescue of Julie.
He ran a long distance, because his excitement waned slowly, and because
the severe exercise made the blood course rapidly through his veins,
counteracting the effects of his cold and wetting. When he began to feel
weary he turned out of the road, knowing that it was safer in the
fields. He had the curious belief or impression now that the black
shower was all arranged for his benefit. Providence was merely making
things even. The soldiers had been brought upon him when the chances
were a hundred to one against him, and then the shower had been sent to
cover him, when the chances were a hundred to one against that, too.
He saw far to the south a sudden faint radiance and he knew that it was
the last of the lightning. The little feathery clouds, which looked so
friendly and pleasant against the blue of the sky, came back and the
moaning on the western horizon toward which he was traveling was wholly
that of the guns.
He heard a noise over his head, a mixture of a whistle and a scream, and
he knew that a shell was passing high. He walked on, and heard another.
But they could not be firing at him. He was still that mere mote in the
infinite darkness, but, looking back for the bursting of the shells, he
saw a blaze leap up near the point from which he had come.
A cold shiver seized him. The range was that of the château, and Julie
was there. The French gunners could have no knowledge that their own
people were prisoners in the building, and if one of those huge shells
burst in it, ruin and destruction would follow. The conservatory had
been a silent witness of what flying metal could do. He stopped,
appalled. He had been wrong to leave without Julie, and yet he could
have done nothing else. It was impossible to foresee a shelling of the
château by the French themselves.
The screaming and whistling came again, but he did not see any
explosion near the château. One could not tell much from such a swift
and passing sound, but he concluded that it was a German shell replying.
He had seen a German battery near the house and it would not remain
quiet under bombardment.
He had no doubt that the French gunners, having got the range, would
keep it. Somebody, perhaps an aeroplane or an officer with flags in a
tree, was signaling. It was horrible, this murderous mechanism by which
men fired at targets miles away, targets which they could not see, but
which they hit nevertheless. Every pulse beating hard, John shook his
fist at the invisible German guns and the invisible French guns alike.
Then he recovered himself with an angry shake and began to run again. He
knew now that he must go forward and secure a French force for rescue.
But no matter how much he urged himself on, a great power was pulling at
him, and it was Julie Lannes, a prisoner of the Germans in the château.
Often he stopped and looked back, always in the same direction. Twice
more he saw shells burst in the neighborhood of the house, and then his
heart would beat hard, but after brief hesitation he would always pursue
his course once more toward the French army.
He did not know the time, but he believed it to be well past midnight.
He had his watch, but his immersion in the fish pond had caused it to
stop. Still, the feel of the air made him believe that he was in the
morning hours. Shells continued to pass over his head, and now they
came from many points. He had seen or heard so much firing in the last
eight or ten days that the world, he felt, must be turned into a huge
ammunition factory to feed all the guns. He laughed to himself at his
own grim joke. He was overstrained and he began to see everything
through a red mist.
His clothing was drying fast, but his throat was very hot from
excitement and exertion. He came to a little brook, and kneeling down,
drank greedily. Then he bathed his face and felt stronger and better.
His nerves also grew steadier. There was not so much luminous mist in
the atmosphere. Ahead of him the crash of the guns was much louder, and
he knew that he had already come a long distance. It seemed that the
passing of the storm had renewed the activity of the gunners. The mutter
had become rolling thunder, and both to north and south the searchlights
flared repeatedly.
He heard the beat of hoofs, and he hoped that they were French cavalry
on patrol, but they proved to be German Hussars, Bavarians he judged by
the light blue uniforms, and they were coming from the direction of the
French lines. They had been scouting there, he had no doubt, but they
passed in a few moments, and, leaving his hedge, he resumed his own
rapid flight, continually hoping that he would meet some French force,
scouting also.
But he was doomed to a long trial of patience. Twice he saw Germans and
hid until they had gone by. They seemed to be scouting in the night
almost to the mouths of the French guns, and he admired their energy
although it stood in the way of his own plans. He came to a second
brook, drank again, and then took a short cut through a small wood. He
had marked the reports of guns from a hill about two miles in front of
him, and he was sure that a French battery must be posted there. He
reckoned that he could reach it in a half hour, if he exerted himself.
Half way through the wood and human figures rose up all about him.
Strong hands seized his arms and an electric torch flashed in his face.
"Who are you?" came the fierce question in French.
But it was not necessary for John to answer. The man who held the torch
was short, but very muscular and strong, his face cut in the antique
mold, his eyes penetrating and eager. It was Bougainville and John gave
a gasp of joy. Then he straightened up and saluted:
"Colonel Bougainville," he said, "I see that you know me! I have just
escaped from the enemy for the second time. There is a house in that
direction, and it is occupied by the Prince of Auersperg, one of the
German generals."
He pointed where the château lay, and Bougainville uttered a shout:
"Ah!"
"He holds there a prisoner, Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, the sister of the
great Philip Lannes, the aviator; and other Frenchwomen."
"Ah!" said Bougainville again.
"You will help rescue them, will you not?"
Bougainville smiled slightly.
"An army can't turn aside for the rescue of women," he replied, "but it
happens that this brigade, under General Vaugirard is marching forward
now to find, if possible, an opening between the German armies, and
you're the very man to lead it."
John's heart bounded with joy. He would be again with the general whom
he admired and trusted, and he would certainly guide the brigade
straight to the château.
"Is General Vaugirard near?" he asked.
"Just over the brow of this hill, down there where the dim light is
visible among the trees."
"Then take me to him at once."