Slowly the deadly sleepiness, which is not sleep, crept upon him; it made the limbs heavy as lead, and drooped the eyelids forcibly. He who was so terribly threatened, struggled against it with all his will-power; he tried to collect himself and move about; he succeeded for a moment, but exhaustion again approached, the end of which he knew.
Was it not even to be granted him to fall by a bullet?
Hartmut's glance turned to the half-destroyed house of God, as if beseeching help; but what were church and altar to him? He had cast faith from him long ago; only night with death stared him in the face, and life would have given him so much when the atonement should have been completed--possession of his love, the fame of a poet, and perhaps even reconciliation with his father.
But it was not to be. He must stand to his post and wait for the ignominous death which was creeping upon him from the icy darkness. Duty commanded and he--obeyed.
But in the distance sounded steps and voices which came nearer and nearer. They tore Hartmut from the semi-unconsciousness which had already begun to veil his senses.
He roused himself with an effort and made his gun ready, but it was his comrades who drew near. What did it mean? The hour for relief had not yet come; but in a moment a sergeant stood before him.
"Relief--command from headquarters brought by an officer," came the order.
The change was made and a sturdy peasant, who did not seem to mind the cold much, took Hartmut's place. As Hartmut was about to join the sergeant an officer approached him from the other side.
"Let the sergeant go on. I wish to speak to you, Tanner; follow me."
Prince Adelsberg, who did not wish the sentinel to witness the conversation, entered the chapel, into which Hartmut followed him.