Three years later, when the name of General Bonaparte was fastbecoming a word of power in European history, I went abroad, andinfluenced by considerations which have nothing to do with my story,entered the Austrian army.
A younger son of a younger branch of an ancient and noble house, anddistantly connected, moreover, with more than one great Austrianfamily, I presented myself at the Court of Vienna under peculiarlyfavourable auspices. The Archduke Charles, to whom I brought lettersof recommendation, accorded me a gracious welcome, and presented mealmost immediately upon my arrival with a commission in a cavalrycorps commanded by a certain Colonel von Beust, than whom a moreunpopular officer did not serve in the Imperial army.
Hence, I was glad to exchange, some months later, into Lichtenstein'sCuirassiers. In this famous corps which was commanded by his uncle thePrince of Lichtenstein, my far-off cousin, Gustav von Lichtenstein,had lately been promoted to a troop. Serving in the same corps,sharing the same hardships, incurring the same dangers, we soon becamesworn friends and comrades. Together we went through the disastrouscampaign of 1797, and together enjoyed the brief interval of peacethat followed upon the treaty of Campo Formio and the cession ofVenice. Having succeeded in getting our leave of absence at the sametime, we then travelled through Styria and Hungary. Our tour ended, wecame back together to winter quarters in Vienna.
When hostilities were renewed in 1800, we joyfully prepared to jointhe army of the Inn. In peace or war, at home or abroad, we two heldfast by each other. Let the world go round as it might, we at leasttook life gaily, accepted events as they came, and went on becomingtruer and stauncher friends with every passing day. Never were two menbetter suited. We understood each other perfectly. We were nearly ofthe same age; we enjoyed the same sports, read the same books, andliked the same people. Above all, we were both passionately desirousof military glory, and we both hated the French.
Gustav von Lichtenstein, however, was in many respects, bothphysically and mentally, my superior. He was taller than myself, afiner horseman, a swifter runner, a bolder swimmer, a more gracefuldancer. He was unequivocally better-looking; and having to greatnatural gifts superadded a brilliant University career at bothGöttingen and Leipzig, he was as unequivocally better educated. Fair-haired, blue-eyed, athletic--half dreamer and poet, half sportsman andsoldier--now lost in mists of speculative philosophy--now given upwith keen enthusiasm to military studies--the idol of his soldiers--the beau sabreur of his corps--Gustav von Lichtenstein was then, andhas ever since remained, my ideal of a true and noble gentleman. Anorphan since his early childhood, he owned large estates in Franconia,and was, moreover, his uncle's sole heir. He was just twenty when Ifirst came to know him personally in Vienna in 1796; but his characterwas already formed, and he looked at least four years older than hisage. When I say that he was even then, in accordance with a familyarrangement of long standing, betrothed to his cousin, Constance vonAdelheim, a rich and beautiful Franconian heiress, I think I shallhave told all that need be told of my friend's private history.
I have said that we were rejoiced by the renewal of hostilities in1800; and we had good reason to rejoice, he as an Austrian, I as anEnglishman; for the French were our bitterest enemies, and we wereburning to wipe out the memory of Marengo. It was in the month ofNovember that Gustav and I received orders to join our regiment; and,commanded by Prince Lichtenstein in person, we at once proceeded, ingreat haste and very inclement weather, to fall in with the main bodyof the Imperial forces near Landshut on the Inn. The French, underMoreau, came up from the direction of Ampfing and Mühldorf; while theAustrians, sixty thousand strong, under the Archduke John, advancedupon them from Dorfen.
Coming upon the French by surprise in the close neighbourhood ofAmpfing on the 30th, we fell upon them while in line of march, threwthem into confusion, and put them to the rout. The next day they fellback upon that large plateau which lies between the Isar and the Inn,and took up their position in the forest of Hohenlinden. We oughtnever to have let them so fall back. We ought never to have let thementrench themselves in the natural fastnesses of that immense forestwhich has been truly described as "a great natural stockade betweensix and seven leagues long, and from a league to a league and a halfbroad."
We had already achieved a brilliant coup, and had our General knownhow to follow up his success, the whole fortune of the campaign wouldin all probability have been changed. But the Archduke John, though ayoung man of ability and sound military training, wanted that boldnesswhich comes of experience, and erred on the side of over-caution.
All that day (the 2nd of December) it rained and sleeted in torrents.An icy wind chilled us to the bone. We could not keep our camp-firesalight. Our soldiers, however, despite the dreadful state of theweather, were in high spirits, full of yesterday's triumph, andlonging for active work. Officers and men alike, we all confidentlyexpected to be on the heels of the enemy soon after daybreak, andwaited impatiently for the word of command. But we waited in vain. Atmidday the Archduke summoned a council of his generals. But thecouncil by-and-by broke up; the afternoon wore on; the early Winterdusk closed in; and nothing was done.
That night there was discontent in the camp. The officers lookedgrave. The men murmured loudly, as they gathered round the sputteringembers and tried in vain to fence off the wind and rain. By-and-by thewind ceased blowing and the rain ceased falling, and it began to snow.
At midnight, my friend and I were sitting together in our little tent,trying to kindle some damp logs, and talking over the day'sdisappointment.
"It is a brilliant opportunity lost," said Gustav, bitterly. "We hadseparated them and thrown them into confusion; but what of that, whenwe have left them this whole day to reassemble their scattered forcesand reform their broken battalions? The Archduke Charles would neverhave been guilty of such an oversight. He would have gone on forcingthem back, column upon column, till soon they would have been unableto fly before us. They would have trampled upon each other, throwndown their arms, and been all cut to pieces or taken prisoners."
"Perhaps it is not yet too late," said I.
"Not yet too late!" he repeated. "Gott im Himmel! Not too late,perhaps to fight hard and get the worst of the fight; but too late todestroy the whole French army, as we should have destroyed it thismorning. But, there! of what use is it to talk? They are all safe nowin the woods of Hohenlinden."
"Well, then, we must rout them out of the woods of Hohenlinden, as werouted the wild boars last Winter in Franconia," I said, smiling.
But my friend shook his head.
"Look here," he said, tearing a leaf from his pocket-book, and, with afew bold strokes, sketching a rough plan of the plateau and the tworivers. "The forest is pierced by only two great roads--the road fromMunich to Wasserburg, and the road from Munich to Mühldorf. Betweenthe roads, some running transversely, some in parallel lines, arenumbers of narrow footways, known only to the peasants, and impassablein Winter. If the French have had recourse to the great thoroughfares,they have passed through ere this, and taken up their position on somegood ground beyond; but if they have thrown themselves into the foreston either side, they are either taking refuge in thickets whence itwill be impossible to dislodge them, or they are lying in wait to fallupon our columns when we attempt to march through."
I was struck by the clearness of his insight and his perfect masteryof the situation.
"What a general you will make by-and-by, Lichtenstein!" I exclaimed.
"I shall never live to be a general, my dear fellow," he repliedgloomily. "Have I not told you before now that I shall die young?"
"Pshaw!--a mere presentiment!"
"Ay--a mere presentiment; but a presentiment of which you will someday see the fulfilment."
I shook my head and smiled incredulously; but Lichtenstein, stoopingover the fire, and absorbed in his own thoughts, went on, more, as itwere, to himself than to me.
"Yes," he said, "I shall die before I have done anything for which itmight be worth while to have lived. I am conscious of power--I feelthere is the making of a commander in me--but what chance have I? Thetimes are rich in great soldiers .... Ah, if I could but oncedistinguish myself--if I could but achieve one glorious deed before Idie!.... My uncle could help me if he would. He could so easilyappoint me to some service of danger; but he will not--it is in vainto ask him. There was last year's expedition--you remember how Iimplored him to let me lead the assaulting party at Mannheim. Herefused me. Von Ranke got it, and covered himself with glory! Now ifwe do have a battle to-morrow"....
"Do you really think we shall have a battle to-morrow?" I saideagerly.
"I fancy so; but who can answer for what the Archduke may do? Were wenot confident of fighting to-day?"
"Yes--but the Prince of Lichtenstein was at the council."
"My uncle tells me nothing," replied Gustav, drily.
And then he went to the door of the tent and looked out. The snow wasstill coming down in a dense drifting cloud, and notwithstanding theheavy rains of the last few days, was already beginning to lie uponthe ground.
"Pleasant weather for a campaign!" said Gustav. "I vote we get a fewhours' sleep while we can."
And with this he wrapped himself up in his cloak and lay down beforethe fire. I followed his example, and in a few moments we were bothfast asleep.
Next day--the memorable 3rd of December A.D. 1800--was fought thefamous battle of Hohenlinden; a day great and glorious in the annalsof French military history, yet not inglorious for those who bravelysuffered defeat and disaster.
I will not attempt to describe the conflict in detail--that has beendone by abler pens than mine. It will be enough if I briefly tell whatshare we Lichtensteiners bore in the fray. The bugles sounded to armsbefore daylight, and by grey dawn the whole army was in motion. Thesnow was still falling heavily; but the men were in high spirits andconfident of victory.
Divided into three great columns--the centre commanded by theArchduke, the right wing under Latour, and the left under Riesch--weplunged into the forest. The infantry marched first, followed by theartillery and caissons, and the cavalry brought up the rear. Themorning, consequently, had far advanced, and our comrades in the vanhad already reached the farther extremity of the forest, when we, withthe rest of the cavalry, crossed, if I may so express it, thethreshold of those fatal woods.
The snow was now some fourteen inches deep upon the ground, and stillfalling in such thick flakes as made it impossible to see twenty yardsahead. The gloomy pine-trees closed round our steps in everydirection, thick-set, uniform, endless. Except the broad chaussée,down which the artillery was lumbering slowly and noiselessly, nopaths or side-tracks were distinguishable. Below, all was white anddazzling; above, where the wide-spreading pine-branches roofed out theleaden sky, all was dark and oppressive. Presently the Prince ofLichtenstein rode up, and bade us turn aside under the trees on eitherside of the road till Kollowrath's reserves had passed on. We did so;dismounted; lit our pipes; and waited till our turn should come tofollow the rest.
Suddenly, without a moment's warning, as if they had sprung from theearth, an immense body of the enemy's foot poured in upon us from thevery direction in which our left wing, under Riesch, had lately passedalong. In an instant the air was filled with shouts, and smoke, andshots, and gleaming sabres--the snow was red with blood--men, horses,and artillery were massed together in inextricable confusion, andhundreds of our brave fellows were cut down before they could evendraw their swords to strike a single blow.
"Call up the Bavarian reserve!" shouted the Prince, sitting his horselike a statue and pointing up the road with his sword.
The next instant I was rolling under my own horse's feet, with amurderous grip upon my throat, a pistol at my head, and in my ears asound like the rushing of a mighty sea. After this I remember nothingmore, till by-and-by I came to my senses, and found myself, with somefive or six wounded cuirassiers, lying in an open cart, and beingtransported along a country road apparently skirting the forest. Ithought at first that I also was wounded and that we were allprisoners, and so closed my eyes in despair.
But as the tide of consciousness continued to flow back, I discoveredthat we were in the care of our own people, and in the midst of a longstring of ambulances bringing up the rear of the Imperial army. And Ialso found that, more fortunate than my companions, I had been stunnedand badly bruised, but was otherwise unhurt.
Presently Gustav came riding up, and with a cry of joy exclaimed:--
"How now, lieber Freund! No broken bones? All well and safe thistime?"
"All well and safe," I replied; "but sore from head to foot, andjolted almost to death. Where's my horse, I wonder?"
"Dead, no doubt; but if you can ride, take mine, and I'll secure thefirst I can get."
"Is the battle over?"
He shook his head.
"Ay," he said, gloomily. "The battle is over--and lost."
"Lost!--utterly?"
"Utterly."
And then, still riding beside the cart and bending towards me as herode, he told, in a few bitter sentences, all he knew of the day'sdisaster.
Moreau, the Generals Groucy and Grandjean, had, it seemed, lain inwait with the main body of his army at the farther end of the forest,where the great Munich and Wasserburg road debouches upon the openplain, in order to drive our forces back as soon as the heads of thefirst columns should emerge on that side; while Ney, prepared toexecute a similar manoeuvre with his division, was stationed for thesame purpose at the mouth of the other great chaussée.
Richepanse, meanwhile, separated by an accident from half his brigade,instead of retreating, advanced with great intrepidity, and fell uponus flank and rear, as I have said, when we least expected danger. Thusit was that the Imperial army was attacked and driven back upon itselffrom three points, and defeated with great slaughter.
"As for our losses," said Lichtenstein, "Heaven only knows what theyare! It seems to me that we have scarcely a gun or a baggage-waggonleft; while our men, herded together, trampled, cut down bythousands--Herr Gott! I cannot bear to think of it."
That night we retired across the Inn and halted upon the Tyroleanside, making some show of defence along the line of the river, in thedirection of Saltzburg. Our men, however, had none of the spirit ofresistance left in them. They seemed as if crushed by the magnitude oftheir defeat. Hundreds deserted daily. The rest clamoured impatientlyfor a retreat. The whole camp was in dismay and disorder.
Suddenly, none could exactly tell how, a rumour went about that Moreauwas about to attempt the passage of the Lower Inn.
This rumour soon became more definite.
The point chosen was distant some three or four marches from thatwhere we were now posted.
All the boats upon the Isar had been seized and sent down the river asfar as Munich.
From Munich they were about to be transported overland to the nearestpoint upon the Inn.
Two bridges of boats were then to be thrown across the river, and theFrench battalions were to march over to our attack.
Such was the information which the peasantry brought to our camp, andwhich was confirmed by the scouts whom we sent out in every direction.The enemy's movements were open and undisguised. Confident of successand secure in our weakness, he disdained even the semblance ofstrategy.
On the 4th of December the Archduke called another council of war; andsome hours before daybreak on the morning of the 5th, our whole rightwing was despatched to the point at which we anticipated an attack.
At dawn, Gustav, who had been out all night on duty, came in wet andweary, and found me still asleep.
"Rouse up dreamer!" he said. "Our comrades are gone, and now we cansing 'De Profundis' for ourselves."
"Why for ourselves?" I asked, raising myself upon my elbow.
"Because Riesch is gone; and, if I am not very much mistaken, we shallhave to fight the French without him."
"What do you mean? Riesch is gone to repulse the threatened attackdown the river?"
"I mean that my mind misgives me about that attack. Moreau is not wontto show his cards so plainly. I have been thinking about it all night;and the more I think of it, the more I suspect that the French havelaid a trap, and the Archduke has walked into it."
And then, while we lit our fire and breakfasted together off ourmodest rations of black bread and soup, my friend showed me, in a fewwords, how unlikely it was that Moreau should conduct any importantoperation in so ostentatious a fashion. His object, arguedLichtenstein, was either to mislead us with false rumours, and then,in the absence of Riesch's division, to pour across the river andattack us unexpectedly, or, more probably still, it was his design toforce the passage of the Upper Inn and descend upon us from the hillsto our rear.
I felt a sudden conviction that he was right.
"It is so--it must be so!" I exclaimed. "What is to be done?"
"Nothing--unless to die hard when the time comes."
"Will you not lay your suspicions before the Archduke?"
"The Archduke would not thank me, perhaps, for seeing farther thanhimself. Besides, suspicions are nothing. If I had proof--proofpositive .... if my uncle would but grant me a party of reconnoissance.... By Heaven! I will ask him."
"Then ask him one thing more--get leave for me to go with you!"
At this moment three or four drums struck up the rappel--were answeredby others--and again by others far and near, and in a few seconds thewhole camp was alive and stirring. In the meanwhile, Lichtensteinsnatched up his cap and rushed away, eager to catch the Prince beforehe left his tent.
In about half an hour he came back, radiant with success. His unclehad granted him a troop of twenty men, with permission to cross theInn and reconnoitre the enemy's movements.
"But he will not consent to let thee join, mein Bruder," said Gustav,regretfully.
"Why not?"
"Because it is a service of danger, and he will not risk the life of asecond officer when one is enough."
"Pshaw! as if my life were worth anything! But there--it's just myluck. I might have been certain he would refuse. When do you go?"
"At midday. We are to keep on this side following the road toNeubevern till we find some point narrow enough to swim our horsesover. After that, we shall go round by any unfrequented ways andbridle-paths we can find; get near the French camp as soon as it isdusk; and find out all we can."
"I'd have given my black mustang to be allowed to go with you."
"I don't half forgive the Prince for refusing," said Gustav. "Butthen, you see, not a man of us may come back; and after all, it's moresatisfactory to get one's bullet on the open battle-field than to becaught and shot for a spy."
"I should prefer to take my chance of that."
"I am not quite sure that I should prefer it for you," said my friend."I have gained my point--I am glad to go: but I have an impression ofcoming disaster."
"Ah! you know I don't believe in presentiments."
"I do know it, of old. But the sons of the house of Lichtenstein havereason to believe in them. I could tell you many a strange story if Ihad time..... But it is already ten, and I must write some letters andput my papers in order before I start."
With this he sat down to his desk, and I went out, in order to leavehim alone while he wrote. When I came back, his charger was waitingoutside in care of an orderly; the troop had already assembled in anopen space behind the tent; and the men were busy tightening theirhorses' girths, looking to the locks of their pistols, and gailypreparing to be gone.
I found Lichtenstein booted and spurred and ready. A letter and asealed packet lay upon the table, and he had just opened a locker totake a slice of bread and a glass of kirschwasser before starting.
"Thank heaven you are come!" he said. "In three minutes more I shouldhave been gone. You see this letter and packet?--I entrust them toyou. The packet contains my watch, which was my father's, given to himby the Empress Catherine of Russia; my hereditary star and badge as aCount of the early Roman Empire; my will; my commission; and my signetring. If I fall to-day, the packet is to be given to my uncle. Theletter is for Constance, bidding her farewell. I have enclosed in itmy mother's portrait and a piece of my hair. You will forward it,lieber Freund...."
"I will."
He took a locket from his bosom, opened it, kissed it, and gave it tome with a sigh.
"I would not have her portrait fall into rude and sacrilegious hands,"he said; "if I never come back, destroy it. And now for a partingglass, and good bye!"
We then chinked our glasses together, drank to each other in silence,clasped hands, and parted.
Away they rode through the heavy mire and beating rain, twenty pickedmen, two and two, with their Captain at their head. I watched them asthey trotted leisurely down the long line of tents, and when the lastman had disappeared, I went in with a heavy heart, telling myself thatI should perhaps never see Gustav von Lichtenstein again.
Throughout the rest of the day it continued to rain incessantly. Itwas my turn that night to be on duty for five hours; to go the roundof the camp, and to visit all the outposts. I therefore made up thebest fire I could, stopped indoors, and, following my friend'sexample, wrote letters all the afternoon.
About six in the evening the rain ceased, and it began to snow. It wasjust the Hohenlinden weather over again.
At eight, having cooked and eaten my solitary supper, I wrapped myselfin my rug, lay down before the fire, and slept till midnight, when theorderly came, as usual, to wake me and accompany me on my rounds.
"Dreadful weather, I suppose, Fritz?" I said, getting up unwillingly,and preparing to face the storm.
"No, mein Herr; it is a beautiful night."
I could hardly believe him.
But so it was. The camp lay around us, one sheet of smooth dazzlingsnow; the clouds had parted, and were clearing off rapidly in everydirection; and just over the Archduke's tent where the Imperial bannerhung drooping and heavy, the full moon was rising in splendour.
A magnificent night--cold, but not piercing--pleasant to ride in--pleasant to smoke in as one rode. A superb night for trottingleisurely round about a peaceful camp; but a bad night for areconnoitring party on hostile ground,--a fatal night for Austrianwhite-coats in danger of being seen by vigilant French sentries.
Where now were Gustav and his troop? What had they done? What hadhappened since they left? How soon would they come back? I askedmyself these questions incessantly.
I could think of nothing else. I looked at my watch every few minutes.As the time wore on, the hours appeared to grow longer. At twoo'clock, before I had gone half my round, it seemed to me that I hadbeen all night in the saddle. From two to three, from three to four,the hours dragged by as if every minute were weighted with lead.
"The Graf von Lichtenstein will be coming back this way, mein Herr,"said the orderly, spurring his horse up beside mine, and saluting withhis hand to the side of his helmet as he spoke.
"Which way? Over the hill, or down in the hollow?"
"Through the hollow, mein Herr. That is the road by which the HerrGraf rode out; and the river is too wide for them to cross anywherebut upstream."
"Then they must come this way?"
"Yes, mein Herr."
We were riding along the ridge of a long hill, one side of whichsloped down towards the river, while on the other side it terminatedin an abrupt precipice overhanging a narrow road or ravine, some fortyfeet below. The opposite bank was also steep, though less steep thanthat on our side; and beyond it the eye travelled over a wide expanseof dusky pine-woods, now white and heavy with snow.
I reined in my horse the better to observe the scene. Yonder flowedthe Inn, dark and silent, a river of ink winding through meadow flatsof dazzling silver. Far away upon the horizon rose the mystic outlinesof the Franconian Alps. A single sentry, pacing to and fro some fourhundred yards ahead, was distinctly visible in the moonlight; and suchwas the perfect stillness of the night that, although the camp lay atleast two miles and a half away, I could hear the neighing of thehorses and the barking of the dogs.
Again I looked at my watch, again calculated how long my friend hadbeen absent. It was now a quarter past four A.M., and he had left thecamp at midday.
If he had not yet returned--and of course he might have done so at anymoment since I had been out on duty--he had now been gone sixteenhours and a quarter.
Sixteen hours and quarter! Time enough to have ridden to Munich andback!
The orderly again brought his horse up abreast with mine.
"Pardon, mein Herr," he said, pointing up the ravine with his sabre;"but do you see nothing yonder--beyond the turn of the road--justwhere there is a gap in the trees?"
I looked; but I saw nothing.
"What do you think you see?" I asked him.
"I scarcely know, mein Herr;--something moving close against thetrees, beyond the hollow way."
"Where the road emerges upon the plain and skirts the pine-woods?"
"Yes, mein Herr; several dark objects--Ah! they are horsemen!"
"It is the Graf von Lichtenstein and his troop!" I exclaimed.
"Nay, mein Herr; see how slowly they ride, and how they keep closeunder the shade of the woods! The Graf von Lichtenstein would notsteal back so quietly."
I stood up in my stirrups, shaded my eyes with my hand, and staredeagerly at the approaching cavalcade.
They were perhaps half-a-mile away as the crow flies, and would nothave been visible from this point but for a long gap in the trees onthis side of the hill. I could see that they were soldiers. They mightbe French; but, somehow, I did not think they were. I fancied, Ihoped, they were our own Lichtensteiners come back again.
"They are making for the hollow way, mein Herr," said the orderly.
They were evidently making for the hollow way. I watched them past thegap till the last man had gone by, and it seemed to me they were abouttwenty in number.
I dismounted, flung my reins to the orderly, and went to where theedge of the precipice overhung the road below. Hence, by means of suchbushes and tree-stumps as were rooted in the bank, I clambered down afew feet lower, and there lay concealed till they should pass through.
It now seemed to me that they would never come. I do not know how longI waited. It might have been ten minutes--it might have been half anhour; but the time that elapsed between the moment when I dismountedand the moment when the first helmet came in sight seemedinterminable.
The road, as I have already said, lay between a steep declivity on theone side and a less abrupt height, covered with pine-trees, on theother--a picturesque winding gorge or ravine, half dark as night, halfbright as day; here deep in shadow, there flooded with moonlight; andcarpeted a foot deep with fresh-fallen snow. After I had waited andwatched till my eyes ached with staring in the gloom, I at last saw asingle horseman coming round the turn of the road, about a hundredyards from the spot where I was lying. Slowly, and as it seemed to me,dejectedly, he rode in advance of his comrades. The rest followed, twoand two.
At the first glance, while they were yet in deep shadow, and, as Ihave said, a hundred yards distant, I recognised the white cloaks andplumes and the black chargers of my own corps. I knew at once that itwas Lichtenstein and his troop.
Then a sudden terror fell upon me. Why were they coming back soslowly? What evil tidings did they bring? How many were returning? Howmany were missing? I knew well, if there had been a skirmish, who wassure to have been foremost in the fight. I knew well, if but three orfour had fallen, who was sure to be one of the fallen.
These thoughts flashed upon me in the first instant when I recognisedthe Lichtenstein uniform. I could not have uttered a word, or havedone anything to attract the men's attention, if it had been to savemy life. Dread paralyzed me.
Slowly, dejectedly, noiselessly, the first cuirassier emerged into themoonlight, passed on again into the gloom, and vanished in the nextturn of the road. It was but for a moment that the moonlight streamedfull upon him; yet in that moment I saw there had been a fray, andthat the man had been badly wounded.
As slowly, as dejectedly, as noiselessly, with broken plumes andbattered helmets, and cloaks torn and blood-stained, the rest cameafter, two and two; each pair, as they passed, shining outmomentarily, distinctly, like the images projected for an instant uponthe disc of a magic-lantern.
I held my breath and counted them as they went by--first one alone;then two and two, till I had counted eighteen riding in pairs. Thenone alone, bringing up the rear. Then ....
I waited--I watched--I refused to believe that this could be all. Irefused to believe that Gustav must not presently come galloping up toovertake them. At last, long after I knew it was in vain to wait andwatch longer, I clambered up again--cramped, and cold, and sick atheart--and found the orderly walking the horses up and down on thebrow of the hill. The man looked me in the face, as if he would fainhave asked me what I had seen.
"It was the Graf von Lichtenstein's troop," I said, by an effort;"but--but the Graf von Lichtenstein is not with them."
And with this I sprang into the saddle, clapped spurs to my horse, andsaid no more.
I had still two outposts to visit before finishing my round; but fromthat moment to this I have never been able to remember any oneincident of my homeward ride. I visited those outposts, without doubt;but I was an unconscious of the performance of my duty as a sleeper isunconscious of the act of breathing.
Gustav was the only man missing. Gustav was dead. I repeated it tomyself over and over again. I felt that it was true. I had no hopethat he was taken prisoner. No--he was dead. He had fallen, fightingto the last. He had died like a hero. But--he was dead.
At a few minutes after five, I returned to camp. The first person Imet was von Blumenthal, the Prince of Lichtenstein's secretary. He waswalking up and down outside my tent, waiting for me. He ran to me as Idismounted.
"Thank heaven you are come!" he said. "Go at once to the prince--theGraf von Lichtenstein is dying. He has fought a troop of Frenchlancers three times as many as his own, and carried off a bundle ofdespatches. But he has paid for them with his life, and with the livesof all his men. He rode in, covered with wounds, a couple of hoursago, and had just breath enough left to tell the tale."
"His own life, and the lives of all his men!" I repeated hoarsely.
"Yes, he left every man on the field--himself the only survivor. Hecut his way out with the captured despatches in one hand and his swordin the other--and there he lies in the Prince's tent--dying."
* * * *
He was unconscious--had been unconscious ever since he was laid uponhis uncle's bed--and he died without again opening his eyes oruttering a word. I saw him breathe his last, and that was all. Evennow, old man as I am, I cannot dwell upon that scene. He was my firstfriend, and I may say my best friend. I have known other friendshipssince then; but none so intimate--none so precious.
But now comes a question which I yet ask myself "many a time and oft,"and which, throughout all the years that have gone by since thatnight, I have never yet been able to answer. Gustav von Lichtensteinmet and fought a troop of French Lancers; saw his own twentycuirassiers cut to pieces before his eyes; left them all for dead upona certain hillside on the opposite bank of the Inn; and rode back intocamp, covered with wounds--the only survivor!
What, then, was that silent cavalcade that I saw riding through thehollow way--twenty men without their leader? Were those the dead whomI met, and was it the one living man who was absent?
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