The kind creature gave me a look charged with meaning, as much as to

say: "I know it, you've no need to apologize."

"Don't be alarmed," she said in an undertone. "Her brain fever has left

her extremely sensitive. And you must admit there's good reason on this

occasion. Look, she's coming round."

Aurora was opening her startled eyes. She saw us two bending over her

and memory came back. There must have been an expression of terrible

concern in our faces, for she smiled and held out a hand which I covered

with kisses.

"Forgive me, children, for giving you such a fright. Good Melusine,

always at her post when she's wanted! And you, dear friend, my thanks."

"You are not angry with me?" I pleaded.

She smiled and shook her head, giving me for answer the Russian saying:

"_Do the rooks hate the sun for showing up the sportsman's gun?_"

She added:

"Melusine, go and tell them that he'll stay to lunch."

To be present at Aurora's table was a signal honour. Melusine alone had

been thought worthy of it hitherto. It was not long before I learnt to

my cost how great the honour was. Meanwhile I only saw in it further

proof of the importance of my revelation.

One would have expected the meal to suffer from the effects of recent

events. It did not suffer in the least, and though Aurora's spirits

seemed a little forced, she was gay throughout. She talked about other

things the whole time. I admired her self-possession all the more,

because my secret was enough to have destroyed it altogether. In that

hour, big with the burden of coming events, I knew the joy of realizing

how indispensable I had become to the haughty princess, who had seemed

to ignore my very existence only five short months before.

When the coffee came Melusine rose.

"Where are you going?" the Grand Duchess inquired.

"To say that you won't be going calling this afternoon," she replied.

"Shan't I?" said Aurora, smiling. "I'm not so overcome as all that. Just

go and say that the car is to be ready at four instead of five."

"Four?"

"Yes. I want a few hours' rest before coming to fetch you at midnight,"

she said, turning to me.

Melusine and I stared at her.

"Does that surprise you?" she continued. "Do you call what you have just

told me important or not? Now this is what _I_ think. One person can

suffer from a delusion. It's highly improbable that two will. At

midnight, my friend, I shall knock at your door. Then you will have an

opportunity of proving your knowledge of secret springs. You understand,

now? Now, Melusine, go and order the car for four o'clock. I've twice

postponed my call on the good Burgomaster's wife, and I mustn't break my

word a third time."

There was so much authority in this order that Melusine went, casting a

long, imploring glance in my direction.

"Poor little girl," said the Grand Duchess. "That look gives me into

your care. Midnight, you understand, without fail."

"Madame," I said firmly, "I'll do anything your Highness wishes. I

understand your resolution. Indeed, I can only approve it. May I just

make two remarks? First, that it would be much better for me to come and

fetch you rather than that you should run the risk of meeting some one

in the corridors of the castle. In the second place, you should know

that the watch make their rounds at midnight. They may be a little early

tonight, and it is most advisable to avoid any chance of being disturbed

in so delicate an enterprise as ours."

"Very well," she said. "What then?"

"With your permission I'll be here at half-past ten. An hour will give

us plenty of time. Fräulein von Graffenfried can stay in your

apartments and receive any callers."

She smiled:

"If by that you mean Hagen, jealous young man, you may as well know that

he's due at his mess tonight, for one of those drinking-bouts for which

any good German would gladly sacrifice the Loreley."

"Hagen or another," I said, with a shade of irritation in my voice. "We

must provide for all emergencies."

"You're right, dear friend," she said gravely. "Then I'll expect you at

half-past ten."

* * * * * *

When I went back to my room after dinner I really thought the time to go

and fetch the Grand Duchess would never come.

At length ten o'clock struck, then quarter past. I went out quietly and

peeped through the library door. Good. There was no light. If Cyrus Beck

had unfortunately taken it into his head to work there that night we

should have had to begin all over again.

Half-past struck, but it took me barely two minutes to cut across the

garden. I wasn't late.

Very quietly I opened the door leading into the park. A puff of fresh

air braced me up.

As I was closing it again I started. A hand had just been placed on my

shoulder. At that moment I heard a voice:

"Professor Vignerte, I'm delighted to meet you!"

It was Lieutenant von Hagen.

The night was pitch-black, and we could not see each other. But I

thought I detected that the hand he had put on my shoulder was a little

unsteady. In an instant I recovered all my self-control.

"I thought you were at your mess," I said.

"I'm supposed to be," he replied. "But we all change our minds

sometimes. What about yourself? No doubt you intended to spend the

evening working in your room. Yet here you are."

"It's so stifling tonight," I said, "that I came into the garden for a

breath of air."

"In that case I don't suppose you'll mind having my company for your

walk."

This time I detected so much impertinent irony in his tone, that I saw

it was a case of putting all my cards on the table.

"I'm very much flattered by your attentions, Herr Lieutenant, but I

won't pretend that I wouldn't rather be alone."

He giggled. "_Quite_ alone?" he demanded.

A quarter to eleven had just struck. The sound made me furious. Was this

imbecile to wreck all our plans?

"What do you mean?" I asked angrily.

I realized his idea was to make me lose my self-control.

"Herr Professor," he said, "in Germany we hold one thing very sacred.

Our word of honour. I like to think that it's the same in France. I

won't trouble you any further if, here and now, you will give me your

word of honour that you have no appointment this evening with the Grand

Duchess Aurora."

I started. How much did this man know of what had happened? Once more I

restrained myself.

"Herr von Hagen, one of your novelists, Beyerlein, has written a very

bad book, 'The Retreat.' You and I are about to repeat the most absurd

scene in that book, with the difference that it does not concern the

daughter of a quartermaster-sergeant, but your sovereign, the Grand

Duchess of Lautenburg-Detmold. I'm surprised...."

"I know," he said in a hoarse voice. "And that's just why I intend ..."

"What do you intend? Tell me. Let's have it out!"

"To kill you, Herr Professor."

"And why, if you please?"

"Because you love her and because ..."

The red Hussar choked down a sob. His hand, on my arm, trembled

violently.

"Because?"

"Because she loves you."

I almost pitied him at that moment. But the Grand Duchess was waiting

for me in her room.

"I'm at your service, sir," I said. "Tomorrow, or any day you like."

"Tomorrow," he replied bitterly. "Do you think I'm going to give you a

chance of seeing her? She's waiting for you, I know. You haven't given

me your answer. I must have it now, sir. At once."

This was too much. I wrenched my arm away and thrust him aside with

great violence. He crashed into the wall.

He drew his sword.

I felt quite equal to snatching it from his hand and turning it against

him then and there. But I ran the risk of being wounded, and, besides,

there would be a commotion, a scene. That must at all costs be avoided.

"Herr von Hagen," I said in low tones, "listen to me. I know you

wouldn't be talking like this or trying to pick a quarrel, if you didn't

love the Grand. Duchess yourself."

"Sir," he replied, furious, "I forbid you ..."

"Just listen to me," I said, and there was a ring of impatient authority

in my voice which impressed him. "You love her, I repeat. I'm going now

to appeal as much to your love as to your loyalty as a soldier. The

Grand Duchess Aurora, that glorious woman, is in terrible danger

tonight. You must understand that. Every minute, every second, that you

make me lose increases that danger. On that I can give you my word of

honour here and now."

I saw that I had hit home.

"What do you mean, sir?" he murmured in alarm. "Danger?"

"Yes, Herr von Hagen. Go back to your rooms at once. Don't go to bed.

Perhaps Aurora of Lautenburg will need your help tonight."

He hesitated, then resigned himself to his lot.

"Very well, sir. I accept. I'll go back. But remember that if you've

deceived me ..."

"You need have no fear of that," I replied. "You must understand that

the little meeting you suggested just now must be postponed till

tomorrow morning if you like. I'm just as anxious for it as yourself."

"Until tomorrow, then," he said, smiling. "What time?"

"Six o'clock. At the Meilleraie bridge. It's a secluded spot and the

Melna is handy."

"What about weapons?"

"You can choose," I said. "I leave it entirely to you."

"By ourselves, of course," we said in the same breath.

He stood to attention, gave me a military salute, and vanished in the

darkness.

"At last!" I murmured, with a sigh of relief. Eleven o'clock was

striking as I entered the Grand Duchess's apartments.

* * * * * *

She was alone in her boudoir, standing, rather pale.

As I entered, my expression must have told her that something unusual

had happened, for she asked no questions as to why I was late.

"Anything serious?" she asked simply.

"Nothing, madame. But we must be quick. We've only just time."

As we reached the door leading to the staircase the door of Melusine's

room opened and Fräulein von Graffenfried appeared.

"What!" she said. "So soon?"

"Yes," said Aurora. "I forgot to tell you we decided to make it an hour

earlier. Don't be alarmed, dear. Stay here and don't let any one in. We

shall be back before midnight."

She kissed her on the forehead.

Torn with apprehension, and her beautiful eyes full of tears, Melusine

von Graffenfried had seized my hands.

"Swear to me no harm shall come to her," she begged. "I commit her to

your care."

"Come, come," said Aurora. "We've no time to lose. Turn out the light on

the staircase."

We went down into the darkness.

When we got to the landing, I felt the pressure of the Grand Duchess's

hand on my arm. She wasn't trembling, I can assure you.

"Are you armed?" she said.

"No."

"Child!" she murmured, and even as she spoke I could feel her hand

slipping something into the pocket of my jacket.

"It's a Browning, a good one. Don't hesitate to use it if the occasion

arises, against any one. I'll set you the example myself."

We were now at the bottom of the staircase. She was leading, and it was

she who opened the door.

"Well?" I said.

She had stopped, blocking the doorway. A dull cry escaped her.

"Didn't I tell you so! Oh, didn't I tell you so! He's a strong man, a

very strong man!"

"What is it?" I asked in terror.

To our right a huge red glare lit up the night sky. Half the castle was

on fire.

Against that background of flame the yews of the park stood out like

black cones. The water in the Persephone fountain gleamed black and red.

"But who could have told him that we should come tonight?" said the

Grand Duchess. "Only three of us knew: I, you and ... _she_."

For a few seconds we gazed at the tragic scene. Then noises began to be

heard in the palace, startled from its first sleep.

"Come," said Aurora, "let's go and see."

As we approached we ran into Hagen. He was flying down the steps of the

right wing like a maniac.

"You! You!" he almost screamed with joy on recognizing the Grand

Duchess. "I was terrified! I _am_ so thankful."

He kissed her hands frantically.

"Forgive me, forgive me!" he stammered, turning to me.

"Stay here with her," I said, and, running off, I made for the

banqueting-hall at top speed.

"Where's he going?" cried Aurora. "Stop him!"

But I was already too far. Crossing the banqueting-hall, I got into the

right wing of the castle. It was the left which was on fire, with the

library, and, of course, the armoury.

What was I thinking of? I had no very clear idea myself. Some force,

with which argument was useless, was urging me on. Some time later I

tried to reason out my action. In my room was my money, papers, a few

letters from my mother--my whole life, so to speak. Yet I'm certain that

not for one moment did I think that I was running such risks for things

like these.

Dense clouds of smoke shot with sparks were pouring out of the

first-floor corridor, at the end of which was the door of my room.

I met Kessel coming down. I heard him shout:

"Where are you going? The stairs are in flames. The corridor's burning!"

But I'd already left him far behind. I took off my jacket and wrapped it

round my head. I don't know how I managed to get to the door of my room.

I only remember that when I touched the handle I burnt my fingers.

Try as I might, I couldn't get the door open. The key turned in the lock

as usual, but the door resisted.

It was then that I noticed a stout iron bolt, screwed into the door at

one end and clamped to the wall at the other.

"So that's it!" I said, "and my window looks on to the ravine of the

Melna!"

I didn't even start I understood. I knew what I wanted.

"So you thought, sire, that I should be still in my room! Didn't you,

now?"

To come and go was but the work of a minute. When I was at the bottom of

the staircase a fearful crash was heard. The upper half of the whole

corridor had just collapsed.

When, wild-eyed and scorched, I got back to the Grand Duchess, several

groups had already collected in the park. A tall man was standing with

her and Hagen. It was the Grand Duke.

"Monsieur Vignerte," he cried rapturously, when he saw me. "Oh, what a

weight you've taken off my mind! Have you come from far?"

"Yes, indeed, sir, very far!" I replied, and nearly fell.

"Hold him!" cried Aurora to Hagen.

The little red Hussar obeyed.

"Look out!" the Grand Duke broke in suddenly. "That's exactly what I

feared."

Catching hold of his wife, he had suddenly jumped back a dozen yards or

so. We all followed suit, stupefied.

An enormous flame, purple and gold, shot up into the glowing sky,

followed by an appalling explosion. We saw the walls of the castle part

asunder, totter and then collapse with a crash. A shower of fragments of

every kind, wood and plaster, tiles and sparks fell on and around us.

Beside us Captain Müller, who had gone forward, was hit by something. We

saw him fall to the ground, with his head bleeding.

Professor Cyrus Beck's laboratory had just blown up.

The firemen turned up almost immediately and set to work to localize the

fire. In the Great Court behind we could hear the measured, muffled

sound of the garrison troops coming up at the double.

By one o'clock the fire had been got under. At half-past they were

bringing out the first corpses.

About two the first streaks of gold appeared in the sky and a serene

dawn shone forth.

Just then a stretcher, borne by four soldiers, came past us. We

recognized the body of the professor, terribly mangled.

The Grand Duke bent over it and took a long look. Then, throwing back

the cloth over the horrid vision, he murmured:

"This was bound to happen sooner or later, with an old fool like that."

Such was the funeral oration of Herr Professor Cyrus Beck, of Kiel

University.

* * * * * *

The Grand Duchess, Melusine and I went back to the left wing of the

palace. It was about six o'clock. The day already promised to be very

hot, for the summer sun rose red over the awful scene of desolation.

Melusine had joined us when the fire first began. She had spent the time

helping the Grand Duchess to attend to the injured firemen and soldiers,

who had been taken to the banqueting-hall.

Aurora hadn't a word to say as she walked, and, busied with the burden

of our own reflections, we respected her silence.

Suddenly she raised her head and smilingly showed me something in the

blue sky, already turning white with heat.

A bird, coming from the east, was flying above our heads. It had a

curious, jerky flight, now rising, now falling, the flight of birds with

short wings, like the quail and partridge.

It disappeared to our left in the depths of the English garden by the

Melna.

A second, then a third flew by and passed out of sight at the same spot.

Then a score or more followed.

"The first missel-thrushes," said Aurora. "They are going to the sorbs

of the Melna."

We had now reached her apartments. "Poor Melusine," she said in a

curious tone; "you're absolutely done up. You must go and rest. I'm

going to my bower to try and get a little recreation with those birds."

"I want to come, too," said Melusine.

"No, no!" replied the Grand Duchess. "Raoul Vignerte will come with me.

I've something to say to him. You _must_ go and rest. I order it. Just

bring me down my gun and some cartridges. Lend yours to Vignerte. He's

left his own behind, under the ruins of the castle."

The girl still insisted on going with us.

"Go!" said Aurora sternly.

Melusine left us. She seemed almost dead with fatigue and the strain.

To avoid disturbing the thrushes we took a winding path to the bower,

where I had had my first interview with the Grand Duchess of Lautenburg.

Every now and then we saw a thrush rise above the clumps of sorbs, take

a good look round and then drop down, satisfied.

When we were in the leafy tunnel I thought we should have to make some

kind of loophole, for the foliage was amazingly thick, and shut us in

with its green, almost opaque wall.

The Grand Duchess didn't seem to mind. She had not spoken a word as we

walked. Her face wore an expression of firm resolution. I hadn't broken

the silence either. What could I have said? I'm sure our thoughts were

the same at that tragic moment. What was the good of exchanging them?

Suddenly the set expression of her features relaxed a little. She began

to talk in low tones. I was astounded by her extraordinary conversation,

and the not less extraordinary notion of going there at such a moment to

shoot the birds, whose habits she was describing.

Her loaded gun lay across her knees, and she had a curious smile, which

made me think that the events of the night must have turned her brain.

This is what she said:

"Missel-thrushes. You know them well. They're like ordinary thrushes,

only larger. They're on you very much quicker. Very difficult to shoot,

though they don't look it. Treacherous creatures. You know they're near,

as we do now. But you can't see them. You guess where they are and when

to fire. I'm used to them myself. So when I say 'Fire,' and show you the

direction, you must fire. Don't worry about a target. You'll go and look

and there'll be a thrush on the ground."

She lowered her voice until it became a mere whisper, then, stretching

out her arm, she pointed to something, an imperceptible rustling in the

thick foliage.

"Fire!" she ordered, "fire, now, fire!"

"But I can't see anything," I said, disconcerted.

"Fool," she murmured. "I will then."

She raised her gun to her shoulder and fired.

A bang, then a terrible heartrending scream.

I trembled like the leaves which were still quivering under the shower

of lead.

Leaning on her smoking gun, the Grand Duchess said to me with a wan

smile, "Go and see...."

Obediently I staggered up and passed the green wall. Behind it, in a

pool of blood fast soaking into the ground, Melusine von Graffenfried

was writhing in her death agony, her face literally blown to bits by the

charge which she had received almost at point-blank range.

"What a ghastly accident!" I cried in a horror-stricken voice.

The Grand Duchess had come out of her bower.

One of Melusine's eyes was blown out, but the other was fixed on Aurora

with a mad look of terror and torture.

Aurora gazed at her coldly, and murmured the words of Hamlet after he

had killed Polonius:

"_I took thee for thy better!_"

With a horrible gasp Melusine expired.

For one moment the Grand Duchess stood motionless. The rigid lines in

her face almost terrified me. Not a tremor shook her at the

contemplation of the dead girl's glassy eye.

"Let's go back," she said at length, "we must let them know about this

fresh calamity."

From my trembling fingers she took the light, engraved gun which had

been Melusine's, and laid it down beside the corpse.

She signed to me to stay behind, and went off quickly.

Left alone with the corpse, at first I couldn't bring myself to look at

it.

My God! where was now that lovely smooth skin, that perfect oval face,

those melting eyes. Loathsome, bloody pulp of flesh, earth and hair.

Disgusting green insects were already buzzing round the horrid mass. I

cut a leafy hazel branch and kept brushing them off, much as the old

muffin men at home brush the flies off their trays with paper fans.

The Grand Duchess was soon back. Madame von Wendel, two or three

waiting-women and Melusine's maid came with her, weeping copiously. With

her usual self-possession she gave the necessary orders. Melusine's body

was placed on a stretcher and carried to the palace.

Just as we reached it we saw the Grand Duke coming to meet the sad

procession. He was on his way to visit the casualties of the night, when

he was informed of the new blow that had fallen upon the Court of

Lautenburg.

He rushed up visibly moved.

"Oh, madame," he said, pressing Aurora's hand, "what a dreadful

misfortune."

"Fate brings these catastrophes, sir," replied the Grand Duchess, with

wonderful self-possession.

"However did it happen?"

"How should I know, sir?" replied Aurora. "Truth to tell I know no more

about it than you yourself know of the origin of tonight's fire."

The blow went home, but the Grand Duke did not lower his head.

"You are right, what does it matter how it happened since the dreadful

results are only too self-evident? Let me associate myself with you in

mourning the terrible loss you have suffered in Fräulein von

Graffenfried's death."

"Terrible it is, sir," replied Aurora, "and that is why I hasten to

express my gratitude to you, since I have you to thank for the fact that

it is not utterly irreparable. Perhaps you had some forebodings of what

was to come when you decided to give me a second confidante in the

person of Monsieur Vignerte?"

Frederick-Augustus bit his lips. But his reply was terrible.

"I know, Madame, that you value M. Vignerte's services highly, and I am

delighted. And if Fräulein von Graffenfried's dreadful end moves me so

much, in its effect on yourself, it is because I know that there are

some things for which a woman is irreplaceable."

Such an exchange of envenomed condolences seemed to me almost

terrifying. Kessel, Colonel von Wendel, and the others who were standing

round, had no idea of the full meaning of the tragedy. I was at once

proud and dismayed to share such confidences. Memories of Professor

Thierry shot through my mind. I had promised him never to mix myself up

in the private affairs of the Lautenburg sovereigns!...

I did not know which to admire more, the portentous courtesy of the

Grand Duke, or the icy dignity of the Grand Duchess. I thought for a

moment that she would flinch and lose her self-possession under the

infamous insinuation he had just made. She did nothing of the kind, and

her reply was better than the attack that had provoked it:

"Irreplaceable you have rightly said, sir. And so it is with no idea of

his taking Melusine's place that I ask you to leave Monsieur Vignerte

entirely at my disposal. On the contrary, I rely on his devotion to help

me to preserve as vivid a recollection as possible of our dear dead

friend and the events of this tragic night."

She added:

"Owing to the fire M. Vignerte is actually without a roof. Will you

kindly allow him to be my guest from this day forth?"

The Grand Duke bowed.

"It shall be done, madame, according to your wishes. May his society

accord you a slight measure of that relief so necessary to your mental

health after the heavy blows the will of the Most High has seen fit to

inflict upon us."

Thereupon he left us.

In the Grand Duchess's boudoir, converted into a mortuary chapel, the

coffin was smothered under a mass of Circassian roses and iris, between

bowls from which the smoke of incense arose.

Aurora had wished to be alone with me to watch by the bier of her dead

friend. Callers who diffidently asked for admittance received short

shrift, I can assure you.

Dressed in a black Armenian tunic, she recited the beautiful prayers of

her faith in low tones.

I had not closed my eyes for two days, and about midnight I sank into a

chair worn out, and on the verge of collapse.

When I opened my eyes again the Grand Duchess was standing by me. In the

light of the tall candles soft flickering shadows passed over her face.

She put her hand on my forehead and murmured with a sweet, sad smile:

"You are tired out. Go to bed, dear friend, poor friend, whom I once

doubted."

Oh, human frailty! Sleep swept me off that night, a night I could have

spent entirely alone with her amidst the suggestive scent of funeral

wreaths in the very presence of death, from which anything can be

expected. I slept in Melusine von Graffenfried's room. The old,

half-witted waiting-woman came grumbling to change the sheets.

* * * * * *

It was on Tuesday, the 28th, that Melusine's obsequies were celebrated.

The Grand Duke, the Grand Duchess and Duke Joachim walked behind the

hearse, its white pall hidden under the fragrant glories of Daghestan.

I was lost in the crowd of officers, palace officials and leaders of

Lautenburg society. The Grand Duchess had ordered a squad of the 7th

Hussars to render the honours. By the Grand Duke's orders the great bell

of the cathedral beat time to the procession with its heavy measured

toll. A tall old man, with the ascetic face of a Moltke, in an ancient,

shiny black frock coat, came first, with a haughty and sullen lieutenant

in the blue uniform of the Brunswick Hussars. They were Richard and

Albrecht von Graffenfried, the dead girl's father and brother.

When the coffin entered the Temple of the Siegstrasse my very marrow

seemed to freeze. It made me shiver to think that Melusine, whose

voluptuous form seemed to cry aloud for the luxurious pomp of the

Catholic ritual, should have belonged to the reformed faith.

I had never been in a Protestant temple before. They are awful places.

Your very tears seem afraid to rise, lest they should freeze on your

eyelids.

Pastor Silbermann delivered a sermon, his thin form, in its uncouth

gown, reminiscent of the master of some masonic lodge emerging from a

kind of revolving pulpit. For some reason I could not fathom he had

selected from the Scriptures the incident of Jephthah's daughter.

Nothing could have been less appropriate to the frail departed than this

reference to the sacrifice of that dismal, austere Jewess.

For a whole half-hour the pastor expounded, with the indefatigable

enthusiasm of a mathematics' master the three conditions for the

equality of triangles.

When he came to the celebrated phrase, "_Strike this bosom which for

thee is unveiled_," my eyes sought the Grand Duchess. I saw she was

weeping.

We went from the Temple to the station in cars. The coffin, with its

fast-fading flowers, was put in a special carriage.

When I returned to the palace I met Lieutenant von Hagen in the Great

Gallery, as deserted at five o'clock in the afternoon as if it had been

midnight. He was pale and appeared as if he had been waiting for me.

"Monsieur," he said, in a low voice, "yesterday morning I waited for you

two hours at the La Meilleraie bridge."

"I had entirely forgotten our little meeting," I said. "I admit it

frankly."

"After this," he muttered quietly, "may I hope there'll be no more of

your troublesome lapses of memory?" And so saying he tapped my cheek

with the glove in his right hand.

I had some difficulty in keeping myself from retaliating with a good

sound cuff. His elaborate pretence of self-possession saved me.

"Sir," I said, "I shall be at your disposal at six o'clock tomorrow."

"Let us arrange everything now, if you please. No seconds, no witnesses,

of course. As you are the challenged party, what weapon will you

choose?"

If I had been less excited than I was this question would have been a

very awkward one. As it happened, I didn't hesitate.

"This," I replied, drawing the Grand Duchess's revolver from my pocket.

I could see it was a shock, but he concealed it.

"It's not exactly usual, is it?" he said. "But, after all, what does it

matter? All right. Seven shots at discretion, immediately after the

signal. What about the distance?"

"Ten paces," I replied, utterly indifferent to what I was saying.

A sickly smile wreathed his mouth.

"A duel to the death then, monsieur. It shall be as you wish."

He turned and left me.

I found the Grand Duchess in her room. I had not been there since the

tragedy. She beckoned to me to sit down, but did not speak. Gradually

darkness descended upon us. The lamp which burned before the ikon began

to glow. Melusine's guzla was still lying on the carpet. Our thoughts

were the same. They dwelt on that other glorious instrument of delight,

already a prey to the mysterious transformations of death, which also

would never vibrate again.

* * * * * *

When did Aurora sleep? Melusine alone could have known. We heard the

birds awakening at the first coming of dawn. The shrill piping of

finches and sparrows succeeded the plaintive note of the nightingale. I

wonder whether I should hear the birds wake on the morrow.

I realized that the time had come. It was contrary to etiquette, but I

said to Aurora:

"Forgive me for leaving you. I'm very tired." There was a tinge of

reproach in the look she gave me. I felt she was thinking that Melusine

was _never_ tired.

"If she only knew!" I said to myself. And for an instant I was almost

tempted to tell her everything.

I went back to my room and left it a few moments later, taking care to

go out through the Great Court, for fear lest she might see me from her

window.

It was not yet five o'clock when I reached the La Meilleraie bridge.

That hour's respite seemed to me an eternity of bliss. Never had earth

seemed so fair and life so dear as in those moments which I thought

might very well be my last.

I knew that Hagen was one of the finest swordsmen in the garrison. He

was also a crack pistol shot, while I--well, my education had been

confined to firing off two, perhaps three, dozen cartridges with a

revolver during my training periods as an officer of the reserve.

Leaning on the parapet I watched the Melna dashing over the boulders far

below me. Little silvery trout darted up out of the foaming water, and

reminded me of my trout-fishing days, ten years before, in the Ossau

stream, between Laruns and Pont de Béon.

Where was this river going? To join the Aller, which meets the Weser,

which flows into the North Sea, which joins the Channel, which is an arm

of the Atlantic, which receives the waters of the Adour, into which the

river of Pan, swollen by the Ossau stream, runs close by the blue hamlet

of Peyrehorade. Little German trout, little French trout. Foolish,

childish thoughts which carry the mind of a man facing death back

through the course of his life, and bridge the gulf between distant

epochs.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Herr Professor. But it's not yet

quite six o'clock."

Hagen! I hadn't seen him come. I'd almost forgotten him, in fact.

We both bowed.

"I've brought with me," he explained, "everything required for a meeting

without seconds."

He produced a fountain-pen and some paper.

"Revolvers being the weapon selected," he said, "I've brought mine. We

can draw lots if you like, but I think it's hardly necessary. The model

is the same. Now will you be good enough to sign this?"

He had taken the precaution of drawing up a statement, in my name and

his, wherein the two adversaries testified in advance that everything

had been quite fair and regular.

"In case there's an accident, this will save the survivor a good deal of

trouble," he thought fit to explain.

Officialism could hardly go further. All the same I was curious to know

how the signal was to be given. I couldn't help asking him.

He smiled, a smile full of self-satisfaction.

"I've seen to that all right," he replied.

With these words he opened a parcel containing an alarm-clock.

"I've set the alarm for ten minutes past six," he said. "You can test

it, if you like. When it goes off we will fire, changing places if we

like. It's all put down in the statement."

I couldn't say whether tragedy or absurdity was the more conspicuous

feature of the proceedings.

Hagen paced out the distance.

"Eight, nine, ten. Herr Professor, you're a little taller than I. Will

you pace it out too, and if you like, we'll take the mean."

"It doesn't matter," I said. "This is all right for me."

He bowed and drew his revolver from his pocket.

"Seven minutes past," he said. "We'd better take our places."

I toed the line he had drawn at the start. We were now face to face.

The clock was placed on the parapet of the bridge, where we could both

see its face. Its sharp ticking sounded above the distant roar of the

river.

I looked at my opponent. His eyes, bashfully cast down like those of a

girl, were fixed on my feet.

Nine minutes past six.

_He_ is listening for the sound, while I am looking at the hand, I

thought. Suppose the alarm went off too soon!

Suddenly I saw Hagen raise his head. His elegant self-possession had

left him, and a look of unutterable terror was stamped on his features.

I turned round, regardless of the fact that this movement might have

cost me my life. At that very moment the alarm went off, a loud buzz

that went on and on.

The Grand Duchess Aurora was behind me. Then I understood why the

officer hadn't fired.

Aurora was now standing between us.

"Will one of you gentlemen kindly explain the meaning of this curious

scene?" she said coldly.

There was no answer.

The document drawn up by Hagen was under the clock. She picked it up.

"I understand," she said, when she had read it. "Revolvers! Monsieur

Vignerte, you make very bad use of things you're trusted with.

Lieutenant von Hagen, my compliments to you. Your ingenuity is amazing."

Her voice was ironical, but now became very hard:

"Gentlemen, if this is your method of proving that devotion with which

you have never ceased to assail my ears, I may tell you that I have a

very poor opinion of it. You're a foreigner, Monsieur Vignerte, and

cannot be expected, perhaps, to know our duelling regulations. But they

are well known to you, lieutenant."

Hagen hung his head.

"In particular, you know that an officer of the 7th Hussars may not

fight without first obtaining his colonel's permission. Only a year ago

Lieutenant Techner was given thirty days' close confinement in a

fortress for breaking this rule. Have you forgotten?"

Hagen didn't answer.

"Go back and put on your uniform, Herr von Hagen. Then go to the

orderly-room and place yourself at the disposal of Major von Hougwitz

until you receive official notification of the fifteen days' confinement

to which I reduce your punishment in view of your services. You can go,

sir. Don't forget your clock."

Lieutenant von Hagen saluted his colonel, faced about and disappeared.

VIII

A dark form appeared at the entrance of our dug-out, through which the

chilly morning air was now stealing.

"It's five o'clock, sir."

It was the soldier of the party whom I had told off to wake us without

fail.

"We've half an hour before the attack," said Vignerte. "Let's go out.

I'll finish my story outside. I'm very near the end."

The stars had all vanished. One alone still twinkled low down in the

Eastern sky, waiting for daybreak to blot it out.

We sat down on a ledge projecting from the side of a ravine. It

commanded an excellent view of the line held by our Company, and we

couldn't have had a better position to follow the course of the coming

raid.

Close by us a soldier's lowly grave, a shadowy rectangle of dead

branches. On the little wooden cross I could read these words, already

almost obliterated by rain:

"Mohammed Beggi ben Smaël, Private, 2nd Tirailleurs. He died for

France, September 23rd, 1914. Pray for him."

I have seldom seen anything more moving than that little cross pleading

for a Christian prayer for the humble Mussulman soldier.

Vignerte, looking straight in front of him, was waiting for the moment

when the growing light would reveal the lie of the land. But that hour

was not yet come. Only the dark line of the heights occupied by the

enemy could be distinguished on the horizon.

OVER there is Hurtebise and Craonne, he said, and beyond it Laon, Saint

Richaumont and Goise. Farther still is La Capelle and the forest of

Nouvion, where we charged the White Cuirassiers. How often do my

thoughts fly over them to the sandy plains of Hanover and Lautenburg

where I have left Aurora? What is she doing in her room among her rugs

and her jewels? What have they done to her, my God!

When we returned to the palace after the scene on the La Meilleraie

bridge she said not a word to me. We had our breakfast together, then

she began to arrange large purple iris and white nigella in vases.

About ten o'clock she summoned one of her waiting women.

"Is Mademoiselle Marthe there?" she asked. Receiving an affirmative

reply the said:

"Show her in."

Mlle. Marthe came every year about this time to show the Grand Duchess

the last word in novelties from Paris. A delicate suggestion of the

Boulevard de la Madeleine seemed to enter with this good-looking, dainty

girl.

"Have you had a pleasant journey, child?" asked Aurora.

"I arrived last evening, madame," replied the girl. "Please excuse me

for intruding on your Highness so soon, but I have to go back this

evening."

"What have you got for me this year?"

Mlle. Marthe opened her boxes and revealed dainty jewellery, tulle fans,

vanity bags in velvet and moiré, diminutive stamp boxes, powder boxes,

patch-boxes--those Parisian fallals which make all others look cheap.

"Leave me these," said Aurora. "Tell Duvelleroy it will be all right. In

November I shall want a Watteau fan, or at any rate a Lancret. It must

be ready when I arrive in Paris."

"Your Highness shall have it," replied the girl confidently.

"Good. You had better take the five o'clock express this evening. You

will stay to lunch with me and tell me what the Rue de la Paix will be

doing this winter."

During the meal I admired the unaffected ease with which the little

Parisian girl replied to the Grand Duchess's questions. It made me proud

of my pretty fellow-countrywoman to see Aurora, who had so little love

for the women of Lautenburg, treat her as an equal. But how much greater

was my admiration for the self-possession of this princess, who, after

three days and nights such as would have broken a strong man, was able

to carry on light conversation about the thousand and one little trifles

of Paris fashions.

"You still recommend Cartier?"

"Yes, madame, they are still the best for hats."

"Laurence has left the Rue des Pyramids; she has a big establishment in

the Rue Auber. I shall probably give her a call."

"I should suggest Your Highness going there. Laurence specializes in the

export business. Most of her trade is with foreign houses."

It was a pleasure to hear all this small talk, a refreshing, idle

interlude in tragic events; it almost helped me to forget.

About three o'clock the Grand Duchess handed Marthe an envelope.

"This is for your journey, my dear. I don't want you to miss your train.

A car will take you back to your hotel, then on to the station. I am

quite satisfied. Don't forget my fan. Good-bye. I shall be calling on

you in November."

When the little ray of sunshine had vanished the Grand Duchess remained

a moment in thought, fingering the trifles that lay scattered about the

room. Then she said:

"Monsieur Vignerte, I have an important piece of news for you."

My reply was a look of hungry questioning.

"I have the honour to inform you," she continued, "that I have just

received a letter--a letter from Baron von Boose."

I showed my astonishment.

"Do you imagine," she said, "that dear little Marthe has come from Paris

solely to bring me Duvelleroy's baubles, charming though they are?"

* * * * * *

Friday evening. Eight o'clock. We had just finished dinner. A footman

entered with the evening post--a dozen letters--which he handed to the

Grand Duchess.

"Will you excuse me?" she said.

She looked at the seals of all the envelopes, then she opened one.

"That's it," she said when she'd read it.

She handed me the letter. It was a request for a subscription from some

philanthropical society in Hambourg. It informed the Grand Duchess that

there was to be a bazaar the following Monday for the benefit of working

class crèches.

"We will go," said Aurora quietly. "This is the signal I arranged with

Boose."

I had known everything for two days. She had told me that when I gave

her the document I had found in _Petermann's Mittheilungen_ she had

written to Baron von Boose in the Congo. I have never known what kind of

force she had brought to bear upon the man, but the fact remains that

the letter Marthe had brought told the Grand Duchess that he had just

left Africa. He was now at Hambourg. It could hardly be doubted that he

had important revelations to make.

"I've made it worth his while," she murmured with her wan smile.

"We will go tomorrow," she said.

She looked at me, reflected a moment and then said:

"'Tis a little late in the day perhaps, my friend, but I begin to have

scruples. I'm abusing your devotion. Do you realize that you have

embarked upon a dangerous undertaking?"

"And you?" I said.

"Oh, it's different with me. I am fighting for my liberty, which is more

to me than life. Besides, whatever happens, I am the Grand Duchess of

Lautenburg, and, more than that, a Tumene Princess. Behind me there is

the Czar and all the Russias. They would think twice in my case; but

you, dear friend! Think of Cyrus Beck. Think of Melusine. Why, for what

would you sacrifice yourself?"

There was such intensity of reproach in the look I gave her that proud

and haughty sovereign though she was, she hung her head.

"Forgive me," she murmured.

Then she added:

"Very well, we're agreed. We will start tomorrow. Ring. I must give the

necessary orders."

I pressed an electric bell. We heard steps. There was a knock at the

door.

"Come in," said Aurora.

The door opened.

"Oh!" was all the Grand Duchess said.

Lieutenant von Hagen had just appeared in the doorway. He was rather

pale and stood stiffly at attention, his right hand to his Kolbach, the

burnished chin-strap of which encircled his clenched jaw.

"Lieutenant von Hagen!" said Aurora when she had recovered from her

surprise. "Since when have officers under arrest acquired the habit of

leaving the citadel?"

Hagen stood like a rock and said nothing.

"Will you be kind enough to explain?... Your sentence has not been

remitted, so far as I know."

"It has, Your Highness!" murmured Hagen.

"It _has_!" cried the Grand Duchess. "Herr von Hagen, are you mad?"

"No, Your Highness," replied the little officer, in a low, insistent

voice. "My detention ceased this evening."

"Ceased!" exclaimed Aurora, beside herself. "Do you realize, Lieutenant,

how far this jesting may carry you? Do you know that one thing, and one

thing only, can remit a sentence of detention ordered by me?"

"I know it, Your Highness," said Hagen.

"And that one thing is ..."

"--WAR." The officer completed her sentence. It may strike you as highly

improbable, but the fact is that in the midst of the series of tragedies

which had just taken place at the Court of Lautenburg the great events

of the last week of July had passed almost unnoticed. We knew all about

the note to Serbia, of course, but since the night in the armoury

nothing had existed for us but the events I have described to you, not

even the Austrian Ultimatum, or the German "Kriegzustand." Nothing,

absolutely nothing. And now that one little word--War.

I looked at Hagen in stupefaction. He had exchanged his red cloak for

the grey-green field tunic.

Checking her surprise and trying to look as unconcerned as possible,

Aurora asked:

"War! Herr von Hagen? And against whom?"

"Russia, probably tonight, Your Highness," said the little officer.

"France, tomorrow, almost certainly. The Grand Duke arrived from Berlin

an hour ago, bringing with him the mobilization order for the Army

Corps."

Aurora went to the window and threw it wide open. It was stiflingly hot.

"I suppose, Lieutenant, that the Grand Duke commissioned you to convey

this important piece of news to me.... In that case I don't see why you

needed the escort of the four hussars I see down there at the door."

Hagen blushed violently, then turned pale. "Your Highness!" he murmured.

"What?" she said, with cold dignity.

"I have another duty to perform. Will you excuse me ..."

"Come, come, Lieutenant, don't be so nervous. If you are not even

capable of telling me your mission you'll never have the strength of

mind to carry it out. Tell me I'm a prisoner in my own palace. That is

so, isn't it?"

"Oh, Your Highness!" cried Hagen. "How could you think such a thing....

_I_, to accept such a ..."

"Then what is the trouble?"

The officer did not reply, but looked in my direction.

"Madam," I said, stepping forward, "please do not torture yourself thus.

Really, Herr von Hagen, it's so easy to say that you have been sent to

arrest me."

There was a pause.

"Is that true, sir?" said the Grand Duchess. Hagen hung his head.

"Can you explain the reason for this arrest?"

"Madam," said Hagen, recovering himself a little, "I am a soldier and

can only carry out my orders without questioning them. But it is not

difficult to understand. Monsieur Vignerte is French, and moreover, an

officer. France is mobilizing against us. We are told that French

aviators have already bombed ..."

"You are a soldier, sir, and obey the orders you receive," the Grand

Duchess interrupted. "That is as it should be, but are you quite sure

that you didn't suggest this particular order yourself?"

Hagen didn't answer, but the look of hatred he gave me was eloquent

enough.

The Grand Duchess turned to me sharply and said:

"Go and get dressed!"

She herself put on a long dark cloak. Then she went to her bureau. I saw

her rummage in it and bring out several objects which she slipped into

the roomy packets of the cloak.

"Herr von Hagen," she said, coming back, "are you to take Monsieur

Vignette to the citadel? At what time?"

"He must be there at ten o'clock, Your Highness."

With a smile of infinite scorn she put her hand on his shoulder.

"And so you actually thought," she said, "that I would let you lock him

up?"

There was overwhelming majesty in her look, her pose, her words. I saw

the officer hang his head. He trembled in every limb.

"Ludwig von Hagen," she continued, "a certain day, four years ago, I

learned that an officer of the 7th Hussars had cheated at cards. It

meant death and dishonour to him. The next day that officer's debts were

paid, the affair was hushed up and he himself, selected by me for my

orderly officer, astonished the whole garrison by his strange and rapid

change of fortune. Remarks were passed to which I paid no attention. You

know yourself that the sole motive of my action was my wish to rescue

from infamy a brave young man, who bore a great name and in whom I

believed.

"He, on the other hand," she said, pointing to me, "not only owes me

nothing, but indeed suffered at first from my indifference, nay, scorn,

the result of unworthy suspicions. He never showed any resentment.

Quietly, secretly he has been working for me. Perhaps he himself does

not know the full meaning of what he has done. But he certainly knew he

was risking his life. And now the man who owes me everything has come to

arrest the man to whom I owe everything!"

Tears ran down the face of the little hussar.

"What do you wish me to do?" he murmured in a tremulous, hoarse voice.

"I want you to pay the debt you owe me," replied Aurora. "The time has

come and you cannot complain, for you have brought it on yourself."

"Give your orders," he said. "I will obey."

"Go downstairs and begin by sending your men away. Find some pretext

which won't be awkward for you later on.

"Now go to the garage," she said, when he came back. "There are still

some chauffeurs about. Make them get out the big grey with a full supply

of petrol. Don't light the lamps. Bring it down below yourself. It is

now twenty minutes to nine. Be there at ten to."

Aurora laid a map out on the table and studied it. "It's obviously

shorter by Aix-la-Chapelle and Belgium," she murmured, "but I know the

Wiesbaden-Thionville route better."

"Are you ready?" she said.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Take you back to France, of course."

She added:

"I have put some money and a revolver in the pocket of your coat. You

can get anywhere with those."

Aurora was just beauty itself then, my friend. If you'd only seen her at

that moment you'd understand why I can't control my voice at this point.

There was a dull roar under the window. The _Benz_ was there.

"Come," said Aurora.

At that moment Hagen came in. His air of sullen annoyance had deserted

him now, I can tell you. He fell at the Grand Duchess's feet.

"You are going! You are going with him, for ever!" he murmured with a

sob in his voice.

She looked at him more kindly.

"If that is your idea, Herr von Hagen, it is all the more praiseworthy

of you to have obeyed. You may know, however, that I'm not going. I'm

bound to this place which I loathe by the task that still lies before

me. But for the moment my duty is to save him who has given up

everything for me."

"Oh, thank you! thank you!" said the young man.

"You had better wait a bit before thanking me," she said. "I presume,

Herr von Hagen, that you have your identity card and mobilization orders

on you?"

He rose, quivering with horror.

"My mobilization orders?" he repeated, deadly pale.

"Yes," she said calmly. "Oblige me by handing them over to Monsieur

Vignerte. We might be stopped between here and the frontier. Of course

I know that in all probability I shall only have to mention my name to

get through. But we might come across some stupid sentry. We must not

lose any time. Lieutenant von Hagen will be able to get anywhere. Come.

Quick!"

The officer was white as death. A terrible conflict was raging within

him.

"You are now taking my honour from me, Madam!" he blurted out at length.

"I should only be taking back what I gave you myself, Herr von Hagen,"

said Aurora, pitilessly. "But you mustn't exaggerate. It will be your

own fault if you are compromised. I ask but two things of you. First

that you wait until ten o'clock to give the alarm that we have gone.

Secondly, that you arrange matters so that they shall think we have

taken the Aix-la-Chapelle route. If the Grand Duke is shameless enough

to telegraph or telephone it must not be in our direction. Come.

Good-bye. I shall be back by this time tomorrow."

She held out a hand which he bathed with his tears.

"I may count on you, friend, mayn't I?"

Choking with emotion, he nodded.

I myself was utterly overcome and went forward to offer my hand to the

man who was risking everything for me at that moment. But he started

back and replied with a look of unutterable hatred.

"Monsieur, I pray God that we may meet again elsewhere--and soon."

Aurora shrugged her shoulders, and I heard her murmur something about

the stupidity of men. But she was already on the stairs. I followed her,

but not before I had had one last look at her room with its rugs, its

jewels, and its glorious, fading flowers.

"Get in," she said in a low voice.

I climbed into the great car and we started off.

As we sped over the La Meilleraie bridge the clocks of Lautenburg and in

the old tower of the castle were just striking nine.

* * * * * *

The road, an endless white ribbon, sparkled softly in the light of the

moon. It slipped beneath our wheels as the car whirled along at a giddy

pace. And every time we turned a corner I learned how amazingly sure

were the hands of the woman who was driving me.

The whole thing had happened so quickly that when I was once more in a

condition to take things in we had already done quite sixty miles. Then

Aurora's expression, "I shall be back by this time tomorrow," came to

mind, and I realized in a flash that in a few short hours I should be

separated from the Grand Duchess.

I did not rebel. The prodigious speed at which we were going lulled me

into a kind of helpless torpor which soon developed a curious bliss of

its own. Dark clumps of trees and funny little switchback bridges over

silvery rivers fled behind us. We passed a cart laden high with hay: a

few inches more to the left would have meant death. Death. I uttered

that word and glanced at Aurora's set face. Her gauntleted fingers

looked like thin, white bars on the steering wheel.

Suddenly my thoughts turned to the war. Was it really a fact? How should

I find my country? I confess to my shame that such was the intoxication

of speed, so great its power of tearing me from myself that I could not

concentrate my mind on that dreadful thought. At that hour I was wholly

indifferent to what the future might have in store for me.

A shaded electric lamp showed up every detail of the map, but Aurora

hardly looked at it once. She knew the way by heart I remember her

telling me that she had passed that way many a time when going to take

the waters.

She knew exactly at what point to make a detour round the towns whose

red halo emerged from the darkness to right and left, grew before our

eyes, was overtaken and disappeared in the night. Three or four times

she muttered: Cassel, Giessen, Wetzlar!

Cassel, Giessen, Wetzlar! What did I care?

The light from the lamp lit up a clock near the speedometer. But I could

not see the time. Thought had deserted me....

Without slowing down we went through a hilly town with houses hidden

among dark clumps of trees.

"Wiesbaden," murmured Aurora. "My villa," she remarked as we passed one

of these houses. "It's not yet one o'clock. We have come very well."

She turned to the right where the road forked. Far away on the left the

lights of a big city glowed in the night sky.

"That's Mainz," she said, "and here's the Rhine."

At top speed we crossed the sacred river by a suspension bridge. A dull

roar came up from below. Here and there, where the darkness was less

intense, we could see its green waters.

At the far end of the bridge we thought we heard an order. A hoarse,

"Who goes there!" Then, unmistakably, the sharp sound of a shot.

"They fired at us," said Aurora. "We must be getting near the frontier.

We must be a little more careful now."

I looked at the compass. We were going due west. The speedometer

registered 70. For the first time I had a real shock.

Aurora saw it and smiled.

"We were going 90 between Wetzlar and Wiesbaden," was all she said.

Soon another red glow appeared in the west.

"Thionville," said Aurora. "It must be crammed with troops."

To my great surprise I observed that she made no attempt to avoid this

town, as she had avoided the others. Our lamps were now lit and we were

making straight for the fortress, whose walls mounted higher and higher

into the sky.

The car slowed down. We passed houses, suburbs. Then came an imperious,

"Who goes there!" We stopped.

A dozen soldiers surrounded us. All of them were wearing the grey-green

uniform and covered helmet.

"Your papers," said the rough voice of a non-commissioned officer.

"I will show them to your officer," replied Aurora. "Please go and fetch

him."

He arrived in due course. He was a kind of blonde giant, very angry at

being disturbed in his sleep. When he saw we were civilians, politeness

vanished from his questions.

"Lieutenant," said the Grand Duchess dryly, "I must first ask you to

stop your men from breaking up my car with their rifle butts. Then

perhaps you will be good enough to look at this."

So saying she flashed the lamp upon the Lautenburg arms painted on the

door.

The officer started.

"Have I the honour of addressing Her Highness the Grand Duchess of

Lautenburg?" he said, stiffening to attention.

"You have, lieutenant," replied Aurora.

"I must ask Your Highness to excuse me," the man said in dismay. "Back

there!" he bawled to his men, thrusting back the foremost. "How can I

serve Your Highness?"

"Very easily," said the Grand Duchess. "I presume General von Offenburg

is still commanding at Thionville? I suspect His Excellency is not

asleep on a night like this. Be so good as to take me to him. Lend me

one of your men to come with us and show us the way."

The officer at once did what was required. He bowed very low, expressing

his regret that his duties did not permit him to conduct us himself.

The General in command of the fortress was not at headquarters, but in

the end we found him at the station with his staff. He was watching the

detraining of the troops at the platforms, which were literally black

with them. In the great square an enormous mass of guns projected their

antediluvian silhouettes on the night. I received an impression of sheer

numbers and brute force which made me shudder.

When an orderly officer had informed General von Offenburg of the Grand

Duchess's presence he came forward at once. He was a fine figure of a

man, in his long grey cloak with the scarlet collar. He bowed to Aurora

and reminded her that he had once had the honour of dancing with her in

Berlin. But with all his efforts he could barely conceal his

astonishment at our presence at that hour and in such a guise.

"Don't be too much surprised, General," said Aurora, with a smile. "As

soon as I heard of the great events in prospect in this quarter I felt I

could not remain at Lautenburg. I wanted to see and admire our men at

the frontier, and here I am, with my orderly officer Lieutenant von

Hagen, of the 7th Hussars," she said, presenting me.

I saluted as stiffly and punctiliously as I possibly could.

"Then why, Your Highness," exclaimed von Offenburg, "have you come this

way? There is nothing very interesting here. The 16th Corps is a rock

which nothing can move. Why did you not go round by Aachen?"

"Yes," she said. "That was suggested. Round by Aix-la-Chapelle ...?"

"Hadn't you heard that the whole army is being concentrated there?" the

General whispered.

"That's true," said Aurora. "But the Belgian frontier doesn't interest

me. I should never have forgiven myself if I had not seen the French

frontier at the very outbreak of war."

"I greet you as the intrepid colonel of the brave 7th Hussars," said von

Orenburg, kissing her hand. "Can I assist you in any way?"

"Most certainly you can," said Aurora. "Do you realize your sentries

arrested me off-hand just now? I ought really to ask you for an escort,

but I'm afraid my _Benz_ would be hard put to it to keep up with your

dragoons. May they take me as far as the outposts, and please give me

some kind of permit to save me from any more little accidents when I

come back. We must hurry on. It will soon be dawn, and I want to see the

first rays of sunlight on the frontier-posts."

The General had a permit brought. "There," he said, initialling it with

a flourish. "You've just got time. Villerupt, in France, is a mile and a

quarter from the frontier, and barely thirteen from here. You will be

there in less than half an hour. But don't expect to see any French

soldiers. Their Government has ordered them to withdraw two leagues from

the frontier, to avoid any accident likely to precipitate war," he

concluded with a coarse laugh.

Escorted by a half-troop of dragoons we made an impressive exit from

Thionville. When we had covered rather more than a mile on the

Audun-le-Roman road the Grand Duchess whispered in my ear:

"They are very kind, but I'm afraid we would find them a nuisance in the

long run."

And she let the car out to its top speed. Behind us, in the first faint

light of day, the dragoons were soon strung out, and, a moment later,

out of sight on the dark road.

The chilly breeze of dawn fanned my temples. My emotions now began to

overwhelm me. Indeed, at that moment I had not even a thought for her

for whom I would have sacrificed everything, the woman I was about to

leave for ever. I gazed before me at the little hills, which now began

to emerge, one by one, out of the yielding darkness. The amazing

originality of the manner of my return was forgotten, and I was

possessed by another sentiment, far stronger and more poignant.

I was wholly under its influence when the car stopped so suddenly as

almost to throw me on to the wind-screen. Without a word the Grand

Duchess pointed to a frontier post ten paces away on the right of the

road.

The spectacle of that six-foot post, one side white and black, the other

blue, white and red, was extraordinarily moving.

I looked at the Grand Duchess and a great joy filled me as I saw the

emotion in her set face.

It was not yet quite light. The car was now going very slowly. It was as

if Aurora wanted me to notice the little night flowers which trembled in

the wind on the sides of the banks.

Suddenly I caught hold of my companion's arm. The car stopped. Less than

two hundred yards away, at the top of a hill above the road, a

motionless horseman had just appeared, a dark silhouette against the

sky.

It was a French dragoon. We could see the buff cover of his helmet and

the red and white pennon on his lance. Then two more appeared, then ten,

then twenty, and they came forward at a canter to meet us.

"It is your turn to do the talking this time," said Aurora, with a

smile.

An officer came first. He was a tall young man, dark and rather pale.

His chin-strap drew a shining line across his black moustache. He

saluted us with his sabre and asked to see our permits.

"I must confess, monsieur," replied the Grand Duchess, "that I do not

possess anything of the kind, for I don't suppose you will be satisfied

with this which was given me by the German general in command at

Thionville," she said, showing von Offenburg's permit.

The young officer assumed an expression denoting that the occasion was

hardly suitable for trifling.

"Monsieur," continued Aurora, when she had satisfied herself at a glance

that for the moment I was completely unable to say a word, "there are

some things it would take too long to explain from a car to a horse in

the middle of the road. These are the facts. I am the Grand Duchess of

Lautenburg-Detmold. Monsieur Vignerte, my companion, is a French

officer, a lieutenant like yourself. I don't know whether in France you

have already taken the precaution of arresting Germans. But in Germany

we have been arresting Frenchmen since yesterday. This gentleman was

about to be arrested; I have brought him to you. That is all."

And, moved apparently by the look of amazement which had spread over the

dragoon's face, she added:

"I should, perhaps, say, monsieur, that I am Russian by birth, so you

need no longer doubt either myself or my immediate purpose."

The officer had dismounted. He bowed respectfully to Aurora, who had,

like myself, just stepped out of the car.

"Lieutenant de Coigny, 11th Dragoons, of Longwy," he said.

I introduced myself. We shook hands.

"You have come a long way, comrade. What shall we do with you?"

"You have a spare horse to lend him?" said the Grand Duchess. "Now, if I

may offer a little advice, take him at once to your civil or military

authorities. He has come straight from Germany, and knows much that may

be valuable to this country, where the flowers are lovely, but which is

never sufficiently on its guard, I think."

As she spoke she was looking at some wild roses hanging over the edge of

the bank. Lieutenant de Coigny plundered the thickest tufts and

collected a pink bunch which he handed to the Grand Duchess.

"Thank you, monsieur," she said, with a charming smile to the young man,

who was under the spell of her wondrous beauty. "Would you be good

enough to make your horses stand aside? The road is narrow, and I must

turn my car."

Then I utterly broke down.

Gone were my indifference of the night, my sudden emotion on entering

France once more. They were things of the past. One thought alone

obsessed me: in a quarter of an hour I should have lost her for ever.

Lieutenant de Coigny had made his men stand back. I heard the Grand

Duchess say to him in her soft, tender voice:

"Excuse him, monsieur, he has just suffered greater shocks than the war

will ever bring him."

And now I felt her hand on my brow.

"Courage, _ami_," she said, in low but firm tones. "You are going back

to your own home, your own fair land, a land I love. It will need you,

for the coming struggle will be terrible, much more terrible than you

can imagine. But you will know many glorious emotions, horses galloping

in the August sun; heaven-sent transports in which reason forsakes one,

everything, indeed, which could make a woman like myself regret I am not

a man.

"It will be terrible, very terrible. But over there, beyond the

frontiers, other horsemen are springing into the saddle, horsemen called

'Big Heads', with astrakhan caps, curving sabres and leaden whips, who

charge with their terrible cry of 'Huâ! huâ! huâ!' so that the

stoutest hearts fail and the strongest arms fling away their weapons the

better to flee the Cossacks of Tumene.

"Remember you have no cause for grief. And if you would have proof,

think of the fate in store for her who is returning to Lautenburg

without you."

"Alas!" I murmured through my tears. "Stay with us. Don't go back. Think

of what may happen to you there!"

I heard her voice and it was almost a hiss.

"Child, child, I thought that after knowing me so well you would have

learned a little of what hate can mean. Boose has come back. Have you

really forgotten the fireplace in the armoury, the letters from the

Congo, the whole treacherous mystery? Do you really think that just at

the moment when I am about to unravel the secret of the crime I shall

let the criminal go?"

My tears fell uncontrolled. Then suddenly a sensation of extreme relief

exalted my despair, as for one second I felt the touch of her lips upon

my forehead....

I started up with a terrible cry. Like one possessed I began to run

after her down the road till I stumbled and fell full length in the

ditch.

When I picked myself up, breathless and desperate, the car was nothing

but a tiny grey speck in the east.

* * * * * *

Thanks to the horse which one of Lieutenant de Coigny's dragoons had

given up to me I reached Audun-le-Roman about seven o'clock. There a car

was immediately requisitioned, and I was taken to Nancy.

I had expected that mobilization would already have been ordered in

France. But nothing had been done, and my mind became obsessed by the

memory of the tremendous preparations I had witnessed that night,

preparations which removed any lingering doubt.

We went straight to the Prefecture, and I was taken before the Prefect.

I told him as fully as possible everything I had seen and heard. He

listened to me with the closest attention, taking notes. When I left him

he was already telephoning to Paris the information I had given him.

I wandered about in the streets of Nancy, as my train was not leaving

until twelve midday.

Too harassed and excited to rest, I went into a café in the Place

Stanislas. When I put my hand in my pocket to pay I drew out the

note-case which Aurora had put there. I had never felt so well off as at

that moment when money, once the most coveted of possessions, seemed to

have lost all value for me.

I walked in a main street and stopped, all unconsciously, at a shop. I

went in and bought the clothes you see me in now. I was so stupefied

that I didn't even notice that for field service the blue tunic had

taken the place of the old black tunic with red collar.

At midday the train started for Paris. For the first time I saw all

those places that the retreat has engraved on our minds: Dormans, with

its bridge that we crossed on September 2nd in the added gloom of the

anniversary of Sedan; the lovely Jaulgonne road down which we chased the

enemy; Château-Thierry on the Marne, with its ruined castle perched up

on high, where we slept in a bed for the first time.

It was twenty minutes past five when the train drew up in

Château-Thierry station. There I learned the news of the general

mobilization. The wall of fire and steel which separated me from my

beloved sovereign of Lautenburg had at last been raised.

The atmosphere was heavy and thunderous when I got out at the Gare de

l'Est, but the great city of Paris was calm. Oh, Paris, once I had

feared so much for you when this terrible moment should come; your

excitability, your fits of passion, your very ardour, which might be

treason's opportunity. And now the hour had come and not even

assassination had shaken your quiet resolution, the assassination of the

man who had boasted that he could start or stop revolution at his will.

My mobilization orders had disappeared in the fire at the castle of

Lautenburg, but that didn't worry me much. I knew them by heart and

decided to leave next morning to rejoin the 18th Infantry at Pau.

I put on my uniform in a hotel bedroom and then, walking through the Rue

Lafayette, I made for the centre of the city.

People were much more excited than noisy. There were a good many

soldiers about, already officers like myself, but all of them had on

their arms mothers or wives who looked into their eyes with an

indescribable expression of pride and tenderness. But I was lonely and

alone on that tragic evening, even more lonely in that city than on the

night when I had left it.

I hadn't as yet any notion whither I was wending my way. But I began to

have some inkling when I had reached the Rue Royale with its brilliantly

lit terraces swarming with people. As I passed Weber's I thought of

Clotilde. "It's August. She hasn't got her white fox now. She must be

wearing a light silk blouse...." Then memories of the girl filled me with

loathing.

A pall of shadow was beginning to settle on the trees of the

Champs-Elysées under the darkening sky. I turned to the right and chose

the little alleys which remind you of a watering-place with their trees

and casinos. Cars stopped with a jerk before well-lit restaurants.

Commissionaires opened their doors.

I had reached the Avenue Gabriel, a dark tunnel of foliage. I walked up

it slowly. A feeling of unutterable anguish invaded my whole being. Soon

I saw lights in a restaurant window. On the door of that restaurant I

read the word "Laurent."

I sat down opposite that door, on the bench I knew I should find there.

My fingers groped over the rough surface of the back, striking here and

there the round, flat heads of the big nails.

At last they stopped. They had found what they wanted. I leaned down and

had no difficulty, though it was now quite dark, in deciphering the

three marks, those three letters "A. A. E." which the little Tumene

princess had once carved there.

EPILOGUE

"My story is told," said Vignerte.

He lapsed into silence and I respected his feelings. Then, little by

little, we both felt our thoughts wandering from the tragedy he had just

conjured up and concentrate on that other drama that was about to be

unfolded before our eyes.

It was a quarter to six. It was not yet light, though we felt that day

was at hand. The four runners, one for each section, had silently come

up behind.

Six o'clock!... The hour fixed for the attack. A minute passed, a minute

that seemed an eternity. Then the distant sound of a whistle reached our

ears. The 22nd were leaving their trenches.

There was about three hundred yards between their trenches and the horn

of the wood which our comrades were to clear. To cross a space of three

hundred yards, mainly on your stomach, requires a good quarter of an

hour.

The night was cold, but light clouds, already turning to burnished gold

in the grey eastern sky, promised a fine day. You can't imagine what a

tragic moment those minutes of breathless expectation are. And yet none

of those who have come back from the dreadful experience ever regret

having known it.

Suddenly a sharp shot rang out at the bottom of the valley. Then two,

three.... A German post had given the alarm, but too late, judging by

the time that had elapsed. Our men must have been on them.

Then to our right volleys crashed out, like a sheet of metal being

ripped in two. It was the 23rd Company, whose orders were to maintain a

steady fire on the Germans opposite with a view to holding them down and

preventing them from helping their comrades in distress.

Now the whole hostile line replied with nervous bursts which augured

well for us. Their shooting was bad and their bullets flew high above

our heads. Now and then a snapped twig fell beside us, like a leaf

fluttering to earth. Any one who has done any fighting in wooded country

knows what I mean.

The din had lasted about five minutes when, on our right, an enormous

flame shot up into the sky, illuminating all the heights opposite, and

then dying out in a shower of debris. At the same moment there was the

deafening roar of a terrific explosion.

"That's what we wanted," I murmured to Vignerte. "There was a mine

there, and they've fired it."

On our own bit of front the firing had begun again with redoubled

vigour. Then there was a sudden silence. A rocket went up from our

lines.

That rocket told our artillery that the 22nd had just got safely back to

its trenches and that its turn had now arrived. The barrage opened

immediately.

We could now hear the invisible monsters coming from behind, describing

their deadly curves above our heads. That roar gets louder and louder

and yet seems so slow, so terribly slow, that you can never explain how

it is you cannot see one of these birds that make such a tremendous

noise.

And then comes the end of the journey in the enemy's trenches, the blue

and red flame, the earth and debris flying heavenwards in a sulphur

column, the ear-splitting crash of the explosion.

Vignerte and I watched the effects of the bombardment through our

glasses.

All at once I heard some one calling me.

It was the runner between us and battalion headquarters. He came up, out

of breath with running.

"Sir! Sir!"

"What is it?"

"The Commandant wants you at once at his headquarters."

"I'm off," I said to Vignerte. "What news have you at your end?" I asked

the man. "Do you know if the raid of the 22nd succeeded?"

"Splendidly, sir. They only lost two men. They have blown up a mine,

destroyed the trench and brought back nearly forty prisoners. Very good

work, sir. But please come quickly. The Commandant is in a hurry."

I started at a run. There was a very decent communication trench leading

to battalion headquarters, situated some few hundred yards back. There

was only one place, a kind of open slope, which offered no cover. I

crossed it without quickening my pace, for at that moment the German

lines were silent under our bombardment, and I ran no risk.

The Commandant was standing at the door of his dug-out.

"Oh, there you are. I'm sorry to have made you run. But it is all owing

to the success of the 22nd."

"What can I do, sir?"

"Look here. You're an expert in German, while I have hardly touched the

beastly language since I left Saint-Cyr. We have here a prisoner of

rank. I've had a shot at questioning him, but can't get a word out of

him. Yet he could give us some mighty useful information. He's a major

in the Engineers, and it was he who was organizing the sap we've just

played Old Harry with. Coste got him, and he'll certainly get his

captaincy for it."

"A senior officer who can't speak French! That's an extraordinary

thing!" I said. "You know many of them pretend not to speak it."

"I do know, otherwise I shouldn't have sent for you. He won't be able to

pretend he doesn't understand the excellent German in which you'll

address him. There is the fellow."

I went into my Commanding Officer's dug-out, where I found the German

major, guarded by the two men of the 22nd who had brought him across

from the German lines. They were so proud of their achievement that they

couldn't help giving me the following piece of information:

"He shot poor Labourdette with his revolver. But with Lieutenant Coste's

help we got him at last."

He was a man about forty, with cold blue eyes and hard but intelligent

features. He hardly replied to the salute I gave him as I entered.

I put several questions to him, but without success.

"Monsieur," he said at length, in the very best French, "as I told you,

what is the good of these questions? I shall only tell you things that

don't matter, such as my name, which does not interest you. As for

military information, I am an officer. So are you. If you were in my

place, you'd say nothing, wouldn't you? Let me do the same."

He lapsed into his obstinate, scornful silence.

"We sha'n't get anything out of him," I said to my chief. "Hadn't he

anything on him, any papers, when he was taken?"

"Nothing at all," replied the Commandant helplessly.

"Didn't you find _anything_?" I said to the men.

"Nothing but this, sir," one of them replied, taking a crumpled piece of

paper from his pocket.

"Let me see it," I said.

The fragment he handed me was written in pencil and half illegible. It

was the draft of a letter. I had an electric shock the minute I began to

read.

The prisoner watched me with a sly look.

I stepped up to him, beside myself.

"I know your name, _now_, sir!" I said.

"That is very remarkable," he replied insolently, "for the paper you

have in your possession is not signed, and you are not a wizard."

"You wretch!" I burst out. "Your name is Ulrich von Boose, and you are

the murderer of the Grand Duke Rudolph of Lautenburg-Detmold."

His face turned deadly pale. His hands contracted convulsively. But he

had enough presence of mind to say to my chief in a quivering voice:

"I protest against this treatment, sir! Please be good enough to stop

your lieutenant from insulting an enemy prisoner. It's infamous!"

"Oh, don't you bother me!" shouted my chief. "But really, lieutenant,

what's all this about? What's in that paper?"

I had the greatest difficulty in controlling my feelings.

"Excuse me sir," I murmured. "I don't feel able to explain myself....

But would you be kind enough to send for Lieutenant Vignerte at once! He

knows all about this man, and can tell you everything."

"All right," grumbled my chief. "What a business!"

He gave the order.

At the sound of Vignerte's name the German had turned even paler. There

was rage and hatred in the look he gave me. If the two soldiers had not

held him tight he would certainly have flung himself upon me and tried

to snatch away the paper I was about to re-read with rather more

composure.

Once more, for the last time, I tell you this: I have seen too much of

your methods with others not to know what your intentions are as regards

myself. I agreed to go to the war. But the war is dragging on. Every day

I run the risk of never returning at all. No doubt that is exactly what

you want: after the Grand Duke, after the Grand Duchess, my turn, I

suppose! And then there'll be nothing to trouble your sleep.... I am not

such a fool as that. If, within fifteen days, I am not withdrawn from

the front and appointed to a staff post, with the rank to which I think

my services have entitled me, I can promise you _this_--a _detailed_

description of the whole affair will be _published_ by friends of mine,

in a large number of neutral or enemy papers, addressed to all those

whose enlightenment you have most reason to fear. And I can assure you

that it will be all the more credible because the documents will contain

a specimen of a handwriting which you know well.

The last sentence was in a totally different handwriting from that of

the rest of the letter. The latter was fine and spidery, the other big

and bold. I had been able to examine them both earlier in the night. One

was the handwriting of the letters written from the Cameroons by the

Grand Duke Rudolph, the other that of the sketch-map I had found in the

"Mittheilungen."

Everything was clear now, horribly clear. "Vignerte's going to know at

last!" I thought, in a transport of joy.

Then suddenly an icy sweat broke out from my temples. What price was he

going to pay for that knowledge! Fool that I was, I had forgotten that

she, too....

"He mustn't! He mustn't!..." I muttered.

Too late.

"There's Vignerte," said my chief, gazing out from the door of his

dug-out.

It was all over. The fatal step had been taken.

Day dawned, suffusing the earth with pink and blue tints. A thrush sang

on a shattered tree.

I soon saw Vignerte in the ravine below. He was coming up slowly. I

could see his tall, elegant form and, little by little, distinguish his

dark, clean-cut features.

"O God!" I cried.

"Come, sir," said my chief, "have you gone mad?"

And now Vignerte was only a hundred yards away. I saw him stride out as

he got to that open slope which still separated him from the Commanding

Officer's dug-out.

Then, from the clear depths of infinite distance a horrible sound came

out of nothing, and swelled to a great shriek. In the pallid sky an

invisible mass was approaching with the noise of a train entering a

station. The shriek grew louder and louder and we realized that the

hellish journey was to end on us.

We saw the men skip into their holes like so many frogs.

Surprised in the very middle of the bare slope, Vignerte had stopped.

Should he go on, or go back? We felt his fatal hesitation.

The shriek was now a roar of thunder.

"Vignerte!" I screamed frantically. "Lie down! For God's sake, lie

down!"

I saw him for one second more. He had not moved. Drawn to his full

height, and facing the approaching storm with a gentle smile of

acquiescence and ecstasy, he was gazing in rapt attention towards the

dawn.

Then came the crash.

A shower of stones and steel fragments fell on the roof of the dug-out

into which my chief had hastily pulled me at the last moment. When the

dreadful rain had ceased, we looked out, our eyes starting from our

heads with horror.

At the edge of the slope an enormous black crater now yawned with some

pathetic red and blue fragments on the far side.

Thus died Lieutenant Vignerte on October 31st, 1914, for love of the

Grand Duchess Aurora of Lautenburg-Detmold.

THE END