Over on the other side of the mountain passes also the winter sun shone
clear and bright upon the new achievements which the victorious German
troops had acquired.
The negotiations with the commander of R---- had been brought to an
end, and the fortress had surrendered. The captive garrison moved out,
while a portion of the victors had already marched in.
General Falkenried stood in the main square of the lower town with his
staff, about to move also into the fortress. The helmets and arms of
the troops who were on their way into the citadel glittered in the
sunshine. Falkenried issued various orders, then took his stand at the
head of his staff and gave the signal to march.
But now there came a horseman in furious haste over the main road; the
noble animal he rode was covered with sweat and foam, and his sides
bled from the cruel spurs which had hurried him on and on when his
strength threatened to desert him. The face also of the rider was
disfigured by the blood trickling from beneath the cloth that had been
wound around the forehead.
He came flying, as if driven by a tornado, and everything fled from
before him until he reached the open square, dashed through the midst
of the officers straight up to the General. A few steps from the end of
the journey the strength of the noble horse failed, he broke down
completely; but at the same moment the rider sprang from the saddle and
hastened toward the commander.
"From the Commanding General."
Falkenried started at the first word. He had not recognized the
blood-covered face; he only saw that the man who dashed up as if for
life or death must bring an important message. But at the sound of that
voice, an idea of the truth flashed upon him.
Hartmut swayed and laid his hand for a moment on his brow; it seemed as
if he were about to break down, too, like his horse. But he recovered
with an effort.
"The General sends word to be cautious--betrayal is planned--the
fortress will be blown up as soon as its garrison has moved off. Here
is the dispatch."
He tore a paper from his breast and gave it to Falkenried. The officers
had become violently excited at the awful news, and pressed around
their chief as if expecting to hear from him confirmation of the
incredible report. But they had a strange sight before them.
The General, whose iron composure they all knew--who never lost control
of himself--had turned deathly pale, and stared at the speaker as if a
spirit had risen before him from the ground, while he held the paper
unopened in his hand.
"Herr General--the dispatch!"
One of the adjutants who understood the proceedings as little as the
others, gently reminded him; but it was enough to bring Falkenried back
to consciousness. He tore the dispatch open and glanced it over, and
was now again the soldier who knew nothing but his duty.
With full, firm voice he gave his orders. The officers galloped right
and left; signals and commands resounded in all directions, and in a
few moments the last detachment of soldiers came to a standstill. Upon
the fortress sounded the signal of alarm. Neither friend nor foe knew
what it meant. Did it not appear as if the so recently conquered place
was to be vacated at once? But the orders were executed with the usual
alacrity and dispatch; the movements were completed with perfect
composure, in spite of the haste, and the troops turned back into the
town.
Falkenried was still in the open square, giving orders, receiving
reports, watching and guiding everything with his eyes. But still he
found a moment's time to turn to his son, to whom he had not as yet
given any sign of recognition.
"You are bleeding--let it be bandaged."
Hartmut shook his head hastily.
"Later--I must first see the retreat--the rescue."
The awful excitement sustained him; he did not falter again, but
followed with feverish attention every movement of the troops.
Falkenried looked at him and then asked:
"Which way did you come?"
"Over the mountain passes."
"Over the passes! The enemy stands there."
"Yes, there they stand."
"And you came over that way?"
"I had to, otherwise the news would not have reached here in time. I
started only last night."
"But that is an heroic deed without an equal! Man, how could you
accomplish it?" exclaimed one of the higher officers, who had just
brought a report and heard the last words.
Hartmut was silent; only he slowly raised his eyes to his father. He no
longer feared the eyes he had feared so long, and what he read in them
now told him that here, too, he was free from that awful suspicion.
But even the greatest will power has its limits, and this was reached
with the man who had rendered almost superhuman assistance. The face of
his father was the last thing he saw--then it disappeared as behind a
bloody veil; something hot and wet flowed over his forehead--all became
night around him, and he sank to the ground.
And now resounded a crash, under the appalling force of which the whole
town trembled and quaked. The citadel, whose outlines had just stood
out sharp and clear against the blue sky, was suddenly transformed into
a crater, vomiting forth fire and destruction. In those walls a hell
seemed to open; showers of rocks and stones rose high in the air, only
to come down with thunderous clatter, and immediately there leaped and
flickered over all the huge pile of debris a giant pillar of fire and
smoke which rose up to the heavens--a terrible sign of flame!
The warning had arrived at the last possible moment. But, in spite of
it, there was a sacrifice of life, for whoever had been still in the
neighborhood of the citadel had been crushed or severely injured. Still
the loss was small in comparison with the incalculable disaster which
would surely have taken place had not the warning been brought.
The General, with his officers and nearly all his troops, had been
saved. Falkenried had made all the arrangements required by the
dreadful catastrophe with his usual promptitude and circumspection. He
was everywhere, and his activity and example succeeded in giving back
to the men who had been betrayed in the height of victory their
equilibrium. Only when the commander had done his duty did the father
seek his natural rights.
Hartmut still lay unconscious in one of the neighboring houses, into
which he had been carried when he sank to the ground. He neither saw
nor heard the father, who stood at his bedside with one of the
physicians.
Falkenried silently gazed down upon the pale face and closed eyes, then
turned to the physician.
"You do not consider the wound fatal?"
The doctor sadly shrugged his shoulders.
"Not the wound in itself, but the great overexertion of that life and
death ride--the heavy loss of blood, the bitter cold of the night. I
fear, Herr General, you must be prepared for the worst."
"I am prepared for it," said Falkenried, solemnly. Then he knelt down
and kissed the son whom perhaps he had found only to lose again; and
hot, burning tears fell upon the deathly white face.
But it was not granted the father to remain with his child for any
length of time; he was forced to leave after a few moments, requesting
the doctor once more to give his greatest care and skill to the
patient.
At the open square were collected the General's staff and other
officers, awaiting their chief. They knew he was at present with the
wounded man who had brought the warning, and whom nobody knew.
It had become known that he had come over the mountain passes, through
the midst of the foe--that he had ventured upon a ride the like of
which nobody in the army could imitate--and when the General at last
appeared, everybody gathered around him, questioningly.
Falkenried was deeply serious, but the rigid, gloomy look which his
face was accustomed to bear had disappeared and given place to an
expression which the attendant officers saw now for the first time. In
his eyes tears still glistened, but his voice sounded firm and clear as
he answered:
"Yes, gentlemen, he is desperately injured, and perhaps it was his last
ride that brought rescue to us. But he has done his duty as a man and a
soldier, and if you want to know his name--he is my son, Hartmut von
Falkenried!"