"Of course, because I march to France. But be content; I shall return a genuine model of sense and virtue, and then--then I shall marry, too."
"Really?" Stadinger cried in joyful surprise. "How glad the most gracious Court will be."
"That depends," teased Egon. "I may terrorize the most gracious Court with my engagement, and perhaps inflict cramps upon my most gracious Aunt Sophie with it. Don't look so stupid at this, Stadinger. You don't understand it, but I will permit you to crack your head over it during the campaign. But now go, and if we should not see each other again--keep your master in pleasant remembrance."
Stadinger's face took on the grimmest of wrinkles to hide the upwelling tears, but he could not succeed.
"How can Your Highness talk like that?" he muttered. "Shall I, an old man, remain perhaps alone in this world, and not see you any more--so handsome so young and happy! I could not live at that."
"And I have vexed you so much, old Waldgeist," said the young Prince, giving him his hand; "but you are right--we must think of victory and not death. But, when both come together, then death is easy."
The old man bent over his master's hand, and a tear fell upon it.
"I wish I could go, too," he said, under his breath.
"I believe it," laughed Egon; "and you would not look bad as a soldier, in spite of your snow-white hair. But we younger ones have to march now, and you old ones remain at home. Farewell, Stadinger----" He shook his hand cordially. "I really believe you are crying. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Away with tears and sad anticipations. You will yet read me another lecture."
"May God grant it!" sighed Peter Stadinger, from the depths of his heart. With wet eyes he looked once more into the youthful face, so full of life, smiling at him, so happy and sure of victory. Then he left sadly, with bowed head, realizing how much his young master had grown into his heart.