Voici le sabre de mon pere! Tu vas le mettre a ton cote! Apres lavictoire, j'espere Te revoir en bonne sante.....
The street lamps swayed; sometimes a dozen revolved on one post, andMaurice would stop long enough to laugh. How easy it was to walk! Allhe had to do was to lift a foot, and the pavement would rise to meet it.The moon, standing high behind him, cast a long, weird shadow, and hestaggered after it and cut at it with the saber. It was only when he sawthe lights of the royal palace and the great globes on the gate poststhat sanity returned. This sanity was of short duration.
"To the palace!" he cried; "to the palace! To warn her!" And he stumbledagainst the gates, still calling, "To the palace! To the palace!"
The cuirassiers who had been left behind to protect the inmates of thepalace, were first aroused by the yelling and singing of the students.They rushed out of the guard room and came running to the gates, whichthey opened. The body of a man rolled inside. They stopped and examinedhim; the uniform was theirs. The face they looked into was that of thehandsome young foreigner who, that day, had gone forth from the city, agay and gallant figure, who sat his horse so well that he earned theiradmiration. What could this mean? And where were the others? Had therebeen a desperate battle?
"Run back to the guard room, one of you, and fetch some brandy. Helives." And Lieutenant Scharfenstein took his hand from the insensibleman's heart. Pulsation was there, but weak and intermittent. "Sergeant,take ten men and clear the square. If they refuse to leave, kill! Madameis not yet queen by any means."
The men scattered. One soon returned with the brandy. Scharfensteinmoistened the wounded man's lips and placed his palm under the nose.Shortly Maurice opened his eyes, his half-delirious eyes.
"To the palace!" he said, "to the palace--Ah!" He saw the faces staringdown at him. He struggled. Instinctively they all stood back. Whatseemed incredible to them, he got to his knees, from his knees to hisfeet, and propped himself against a gate post. "Your life or mine!"he cried. "Come on; a man can die but once!" He lunged, and again theyretreated. He laughed. "It was a good fight!" He reeled off toward thepalace steps. They did not hinder him, but they followed, expectingeach moment to see him fall. But, he fell not. One by one he mountedthe steps, steadying himself with the saber. He gained the landing, oncemore steadied himself, and vanished into the palace.
"He is out of his head!" cried Scharfenstein, rushing up the steps. "Godknows what has happened!"
He was in time to see Maurice lurch into the arms of Captain von Mitter,who had barred the way to the private apartments.
"Carewe!... What has happened? God's name, you are soaked in blood!" VonMitter held Maurice at arm's length. "A battle?"
"Aye, a battle; one man is dead and another soon will be!" A transientlucidity beamed in Maurice's eyes. "We were betrayed by the nativetroops; they ran to meet Madame.... Marshal Kampf, Prince Frederick, andthe cuirassiers are prisoners.... I escaped. Beauvais, gave chase....Wanted to kill me.... He gave me this. I ran him through the throat....Knew him in South America.... He's dead! Inform the archbishop and herHighness that Madame is nearing the city. The king--"
"Hush!" said von Mitter, with a finger on his lip; "hush! The king diedat six o'clock. God rest his soul!" He crossed himself. "A disgracefulday! Curse the scheming woman, could she not let us bury him in peace?Prince Frederick's father refused to send us aid."
"I am dying," said Maurice with a sob. "Let me lie down somewhere; if Ifall I am a dead man." After a pause: "Take me into the throne room. Ishall last till Madame comes. Let her find me there.... The brandy!"
Scharfenstein held the flask to the sufferer's lips.
"The throne room?" repeated von Mitter, surprised at this strangerequest. "Well, why not? For what is a throne when there is no king tosit on it? You will not die, my friend, though the cut is a nasty one.What is an arm? Life is worth a thousand of them! Quick! help me withhim, Max!" for Maurice was reaching blindly toward him.
The three troopers who had followed Scharfenstein came up, and the fiveof them managed to carry Maurice into the throne room, and deposit himon the cushions at the foot of the dais. There they left him.
"Bad!" said von Mitter, as he came limping out into the corridor. "Andhe made such a brave show when he left here this afternoon. I have grownto love the fellow. A gallant man. I knew that the native troops were upto something. So did the Colonel. Ach! I would give a year of my lifeto have seen him and Beauvais. To kill Beauvais, the best saber in thekingdom--it must have been a fight worthy of the legends. A bad day!They will laugh at us. But, patience, the archbishop has something tosay before the curtain falls. Poor young man! He will lose his arm, ifnot his life."
"But how comes he into all this?" asked Scharfenstein, perplexedly.
"It is not for me or you to question, Max," said von Mitter, lookingdown. He had his own opinion, but he was not minded to disclose it.
"What are you going to do?"
"Perform my duty until the end," sourly. "Go you and help against thestudents, who have not manliness enough even to respect the dead. Thecowardly servants are all gone; save the king's valet. There are onlyseven of us in all. I will seek the king's physician; the dead are dead,so let us concern ourselves with the living;" and he limped off towardthe private apartments.
Scharfenstein hurried away to the square.
In the royal bedchamber a girl murmured over a cold hand. "God pity me;I am all, all alone!"
The archbishop was kneeling at the foot of the bed. In his heart was thebitterness of loss and defeat. His dreams of greatness for this clay!The worldly pomp which was to have attended it! Life was but a warmbreath on the mirror of eternity; for one the mirror was clear again.
The square soon grew quiet; the students and the cuirassiers had met forthe last time. In the throne room shadows and silence prevailed.Maurice lay upon the cushions, the hilt of the saber still in his hand.Consciousness had returned, a clear, penetrating consciousness. At thefoot of the throne, he thought, and, mayhap, close to one not visibleto the human eye! What a checkerboard he had moved upon, and now thecheckmate! So long as the pain did not diminish, he was content; asudden ease was what he dreaded. Life was struggling to retain its hold.He did not wish to die; he was young; there were long years to come; theworld was beautiful, and to love was the glory over it all. He wonderedif Beauvais still lay in the road where he had left him. Again he couldsee that red saber swinging high; and he shivered.
Half an hour passed, then came the distant murmur of voices, whichexpanded into tumult. The victorious army, the brave and gallant army,had entered the city, and was streaming toward the palaces. Huzzas roseamid the blaring of bugles. The timorous came forth and added to thenoise. The conquerors trooped into the palace, and Madame the duchesslooked with shining eyes at the throne of her forefathers.