"God bless you!" muttered Brockford, but not so low that Max could not hear it.
"My country is at war, and if she is to be victorious, every son who has the strength to wield a sword should rally to her assistance. It is my intention to go back and offer my services, not in the capacity of her king, but taking my place beside the humblest in the ranks. I place my life in the hands of God, and leave the issue with Him. If Pannonia is victorious, then I shall have proved my love for her, and it is possible that what you wish may some day come to pass. If not, then I shall have done what I shall always believe to have been my duty."
"In that case, I have a request to make," said Bertram nervously.
"What is it?" Max inquired. "It would be hard if I could not grant it, seeing that I already owe you a debt I never can repay."
"It is that, if you are going, you will allow me to accompany you?"
"You shall do so if you wish," said Max quietly, and as he said it he held out his hand, which the other took.
Two days later Max and Bertram sailed for Europe.
CHAPTER XIX.
Of the various vicissitudes which befell our unhappy country from the time that, egged on to ruin by unscrupulous men, she drove her sovereign across the border to seek an asylum elsewhere, it would be impossible for me to speak in anything like detail. It must suffice, therefore, that the long record of chicanery and blundering, of mismanagement and oppression found its climax in the war to which I referred at the end of the previous chapter. Dark as the outlook seemed, it was destined to become even blacker before many months were passed. The battles which marked the opening of the campaign have long since become a matter of history, partly by reason of the desperate heroism shown by our troops, but more, I fear, on account of the inability and blunderings of their leaders. How heartrending that time was to us I must leave my readers to imagine. Max seemed lost for ever; I was in exile, and yet we were compelled to remain inactive, watching our devoted country rushing headlong to the ruin which had been so long prophesied for it. Had it not been for the counsels of my friends I should have returned to Pannonia at the outbreak of hostilities, and have offered myself for service in her army in any capacity they might have chosen for me. This, however, I was earnestly implored not to do. Accordingly I remained in England, watching the struggle with an aching heart, dreading the worst, yet unable to do anything to avert the catastrophe I felt sure must come. Then came the chance I was so eagerly awaiting, and, as all the world knows, on the sixteenth of September, a most fateful day in Pannonia's history, the Republic was overthrown, and, at the unanimous wish of the country, I returned to act as Regent until my brother's whereabouts should be discovered. Of the emotions I experienced when once more I set foot upon Pannonian soil, I will not speak here. They are too sacred for the cold publicity of print.