Maurice took this opportunity to bend toward Fitzgerald."Have you anything of importance about you?" he whispered significantly.
"Nothing.But God send that no chambermaid change the sheet in my bed at the hotel.""Are they--"
"Silence." Fitzgerald saw the trooper next with his hand to his ear.
After a time the Colonel sang out: "Fifteen miles more, with three on the other side, men; we must put more life into us.Atrot for a few miles.The quicker the ride is done, baron, the quicker the surgeon will look to your arm."And silence fell upon the troop.Occasionally a stray horse in the fields whinneyed, and was answered from the road; sometimes the howl of a dog broke the monotony.On and on they rode; hour and mile were left behind them.The moon fell lower and lower, and the mountains rose higher and higher, and the wind which had risen had a frosty sting to it.Maurice now began to show the true state of his temper by cursing his horse whenever it rubbed against one of its fellows.His back was lame, and there was a dull pain in one of his shoulders.When he had made the rush for the door, clubbing right and left with the empty revolvers, he had finally been thrown on an overturned chair.
"Here, hang you!" he said to the trooper who held the bridle of his horse, "I'm cold; you might at least turn up my collar about my throat.""You are welcome to my cloak," said the trooper, disengaging that article from his shoulders.
"Thank you," said Maurice, somewhat abashed by the respectful tone.
The trooper offered his blanket to Fitzgerald.
"I wish no favors," said the Englishman, thanklessly.
The trooper shrugged, and caught up Maurice's bridle.
At length the troop arrived at the frontier.There was no sign of life at the barrack.They passed unchallenged.
"What!" exclaimed Maurice, "do they sleep here at night, then? Afine frontier barrack." He had lived in hopes of more disturbance and a possible chance for liberty.
"They will wake up to-day," answered the Colonel; "that is, if the wine we gave them was not too strong.Poor devils; they must be good and cold by this time, since we have their clothes.What do you think of a king whose soldiers drink with any strangers who chance along?"Maurice became resigned.To him the present dynasty was as fragile as glass, and it needed but one strong blow to shatter it into atoms.And the one hope rode at his side, sullen and wrathful, but impotent; the one hope the king had to save his throne.He had come to Bleiberg in search of excitement, but this was altogether more than he had bargained for.
The horses began to lift and were soon winding in and out of the narrow mountain pass.The chill of the overhanging snows fell upon them.
"It wouldn't have hurt you to accept the blanket," said Maurice to Fitzgerald.
"Curse it! I want nothing but two minutes freedom.It would be warm enough then.""No confidences, gentlemen," warned the Colonel; "I understand English tolerably well.""Go to the devil, then, if you do!" said Fitzgerald discourteously.
"When the time comes," tranquilly."Of the two I like your friend the better.To be resigned to the inevitable is a sign of good mental balance.""I am not used to words," replied the Englishman.
"You are used to orders.I am simply obeying mine.If I took you off your guard it was because I had to, and not because I liked that method best.Look alive, men; it's down hill from now on."A quarter of an hour later the troop arrived at the duchy's frontier post.There was no sleep here.The Colonel flung himself from his horse and exercised his legs.
"Sergeant," he said, "how far behind the others?""They passed two hours ago, Excellency.And all is well?"deferentially.
"All is indeed well," with a gesture toward the prisoners.
"I've a flask of brandy in my hip pocket," said Maurice."Will you help me to a nip, Colonel?""Pardon me, gentlemen; I had forgotten that your hands were still in cords.Corporal," to a trooper, "relieve their hands."The prisoners rubbed their wrists and hands, which were numb and cold.Maurice produced his flask.
"I was bringing it along for your sprained ankle," he said, as he extended the flask to Fitzgerald, who drank a third of it.
"I'd offer you some, Colonel, only it would be like heaping coals of fire on your head; and, besides, I want it all myself."He returned the emptied flask to his pocket, feeling a moderate warmth inside.
"Drink away, my son," said the Colonel, climbing into the saddle;"there'll be plenty for me for this night's work.Forward!"The troop took up the march again, through a splendid forest kept clear of dead wood by the peasants.It abounded with game.
The shrill cry of the pheasants, the rustle of the partridges in the underbrush, the bark of the fox, all rose to the ears of the trespassers.The smell of warm earth permeated the air, and the sky was merging from silver into gold.
When Napoleon humiliated Austria for the second time, one of his mushroom nobles, who placed too much faith in the man of destiny, selected this wooded paradise as a residence.He built him a fine castle of red brick, full of wide halls and drawing rooms and chambers of state, and filled it with fabulous paintings, Gobelin tapestries, and black walnut wainscot.He kept a small garrison of French soldiers by converting the huge stables partly into a barrack.One night the peasantry rose.There was a conflict, as the walls still show; and the prince by patent fled, no one knew where.After its baptism in blood it became known far and wide as the Red Chateau.Whenever children were unruly, they were made docile by threats of the dark dungeons of the Red Chateau, or the ghosts of the French and German peasants who died there.As it now stood, it was one of the summer residences of her Highness.
It was here that the long night's journey came to an end.
