He paused and listened. From the town there came a sound, distant but not to be mistaken--the crackle of firearms.
"Good God! those are shots!" cried Councillor Moser, starting up in terror, while the two men at his side hurried to the window.
The darkness prevented their seeing anything, but sight was superfluous in this case. A second, a third time came the sharp, quick, cracking sound--then all was still.
"The message would be useless now," said the young officer in a low voice, addressing the Baron. "They have opened fire already."
Raven answered not a syllable. He stood motionless, leaning with his hand on the table, his eyes directed towards the window; but, a minute later, as the other two came back from thence, he turned to the Burgomaster and said:
"You see it is too late. I cannot interfere now, if I would."
"I see," said the old man, with trenchant bitterness. "There is blood now between you and us, so all discussion is at an end. I have not a word more to say."
CHAPTER XIV.
If ever any one had cause to ruminate on the strange sport of destiny, that person surely was Councillor Moser; for wayward chance had played him as sorry a trick as could well be imagined. He, the most faithful subject of a most gracious sovereign, the incarnation of loyalty, the sworn foe of every revolutionary and democratic tendency, had lived to see the son of a traitor to King and State lodged beneath his roof, admitted to the sanctuary of his home--while, bitterest reflection of all, to the imprudent and overhasty conduct of his own daughter must he ascribe the calamity which had overtaken him.
There was no denying the fact that Agnes Moser had alone been to blame for what had happened, though, no doubt, she had been actuated by the most pious motives. Agnes had always looked on the short space of time which she was to spend in her father's house before entering on her chosen vocation, simply as an interval of preparation for the life that was to follow. The law-writer's sick wife was by no means the only person on whom she had bestowed her care and attention. Wherever comfort and consolation were needed, in the Castle itself or its immediate neighbourhood, there would be found this young girl, so rarely seen at other times, ready, in her quiet self-sacrificing way, to relieve the suffering and afflicted; and what, in another case, might have appeared singular and excited remark, was from her received as a matter of course. It was generally known that Councillor Moser's daughter was to take the veil; the sanctity of the future nun was about her, and this, added to her constant willingness to render help where help was needed, procured for her from all the dwellers in the Castle a degree of respect but seldom accorded to a maiden of seventeen. It seemed perfectly natural, therefore, that when the wounded men were brought up to the Castle, Fräulein Moser should take her part in the work of succour, and her proposal to have Dr. Brunnow, whose case was by far the worst, carried to her father's room, where she could attend to him herself, met with prompt and cordial acceptance. The Governor had given orders that every care and attention were to be shown the injured men, and more especially the young doctor, who had so nearly lost his life in the exercise of his professional duty, and surely he could be entrusted to no better hands than these. His precarious condition would oblige him to remain at the Castle for the present, whilst the two policemen, whose injuries were of a less serious nature, might be transported to the town on the following day. The major-domo caught at the chance of fulfilling his master's instructions so precisely. He gave his warm support to the plan which the young lady's feelings of Christian charity had suggested, and he had the satisfaction of finding that the Baron, when informed of the arrangement, appeared well pleased and spoke his full approval.