But even the greatest will power has its limits, and this was reached with the man who had rendered almost superhuman assistance. The face of his father was the last thing he saw--then it disappeared as behind a bloody veil; something hot and wet flowed over his forehead--all became night around him, and he sank to the ground.
And now resounded a crash, under the appalling force of which the whole town trembled and quaked. The citadel, whose outlines had just stood out sharp and clear against the blue sky, was suddenly transformed into a crater, vomiting forth fire and destruction. In those walls a hell seemed to open; showers of rocks and stones rose high in the air, only to come down with thunderous clatter, and immediately there leaped and flickered over all the huge pile of débris a giant pillar of fire and smoke which rose up to the heavens--a terrible sign of flame!
The warning had arrived at the last possible moment. But, in spite of it, there was a sacrifice of life, for whoever had been still in the neighborhood of the citadel had been crushed or severely injured. Still the loss was small in comparison with the incalculable disaster which would surely have taken place had not the warning been brought.
The General, with his officers and nearly all his troops, had been saved. Falkenried had made all the arrangements required by the dreadful catastrophe with his usual promptitude and circumspection. He was everywhere, and his activity and example succeeded in giving back to the men who had been betrayed in the height of victory their equilibrium. Only when the commander had done his duty did the father seek his natural rights.
Hartmut still lay unconscious in one of the neighboring houses, into which he had been carried when he sank to the ground. He neither saw nor heard the father, who stood at his bedside with one of the physicians.
Falkenried silently gazed down upon the pale face and closed eyes, then turned to the physician.
"You do not consider the wound fatal?"
The doctor sadly shrugged his shoulders.
"Not the wound in itself, but the great overexertion of that life and death ride--the heavy loss of blood, the bitter cold of the night. I fear, Herr General, you must be prepared for the worst."
"I am prepared for it," said Falkenried, solemnly. Then he knelt down and kissed the son whom perhaps he had found only to lose again; and hot, burning tears fell upon the deathly white face.