"But is there shooting with it all?" asked Stadinger, with such anxious mien that the two officers laughed aloud.
"Yes, shots are being exchanged, too," confirmed Waldorf. "You seem to have great fear of them, yet you are at a safe distance."
"I?" The old man drew himself up, deeply offended.
"I wish I could be in the midst of it also."
"Perhaps to protect your much loved Highness. The Prince would decline that. You would hold on to his coat tails and cry continually, 'Take care, Your Highness, there comes a ball.' That would look fine!"
"Herr Lieutenant," said the old man, so seriously that the gay tease was silenced, "you should not do that to an old hunter who has often climbed after the chamois, and has fired his gun when he had scarcely a foot's breadth of ground to stand on; I feel so depressed and anxious to-day. I wish the day would end."
"Well, it was not meant so seriously," said Eugene, soothingly. "We believe you, Stadinger; you do not look like a man who is afraid. But you must not speak to us about your depressing presentiments. One does not think of them after one has stood so many times in the shower of bullets. When we are happily at home again, I will come to my sister at Ostwalden, and we will then be good neighbors with Rodeck. The Prince loves his old forest nook so well. And now abandon your anxiety, for there he comes already."
Rapid steps were heard on the stairs outside; the old man sighed with relief. But it was only Egon's attendant who appeared in the open door.
"Well, has His Highness arrived?" asked Waldorf; but Stadinger did not allow the man time to answer. He had cast one glance at his face--only a single one--then suddenly grasped his hand with a convulsive clutch.
"What is it? Where--where is my master?"