The man shook his head sadly and pointed silently to the window, to which both officers hastened with fear and dread. But Stadinger lost no time. He dashed out down the stairs, into the little garden which lay before the house, and with a loud, bitter cry sank upon his knees at the side of a stretcher, upon which there lay a slender, youthful figure.
"Quietly," said the physician who had accompanied the sad group. "Control yourself--the Prince is seriously wounded."
"I see it," gasped the faithful old servant; "but not fatally--oh, say not fatally. Only tell me that, Herr Doctor!"
He looked up to the surgeon with such despairing entreaty that the latter had not courage to tell him the truth, but turned to the two officers who now hastened near and overwhelmed him with low, anxious questioning.
"A ball in the breast," he explained, in the same tone. "The Prince begged to be brought to his quarters, and we have used all possible care in the moving; but it will bring the end more quickly than I thought."
"Fatal?" asked Waldorf.
"Beyond a doubt."
The surgeon gave the bearers who prepared to take their charge into the house, a sign to desist.
"Stop, the Prince seems to have something to say to his old servant, and there are no moments to lose."
Stadinger saw and heard nothing of what happened at his side. He looked only upon his master.