"Herr General, the dispatches!" said one of the adjutants, half aloud. He understood his leader as little as did the others. It was enough to bring Falkenried to his senses. He tore open the dispatches and learned their contents in a second, then again he was a soldier who thought of nothing but duty. He gave his orders in a loud, clear voice, the officers hurried hither and thither, cries of command were given, and signals sounded in every direction, and a few minutes later the division marching to the fortress was brought to a standstill, while the withdrawing garrison was also brought to a sudden halt.
Now the alarm signal was sounded from the citadel. Neither friend nor foe knew what it signified, only the newly conquered fort must be evacuated at once. The orders were carried out promptly. Despite the haste there was no disorder; the troops turned to march back to the city as they marched from it.
Falkenried still stood in the same place issuing orders, receiving communications, while with glance and word he watched and guided all. But he found a minute's time to turn to his son, he to whom he had given no sign of recognition.
"You are bleeding—your wound must be bound."
Hartmut shook his head.
"Later; first I must see the retreat and know we are saved."
The fearful excitement kept him up. He swayed no more, but watched with feverish impatience every movement of the troops. Falkenried looked at him, then he said:
"Which way did you come?"
"Over the pass."
"Why, the enemy hold it," cried the General.