Having thus roughly summarised the events that occurred between the time that Max and Bertram had decided to see service in Pannonia, and my return to that country, I must now follow the record of my brother's doings. Of all the strange events in Max's life, there was not one stranger or more characteristic of him than his decision in this matter. It was on the 31st of July, that is to say, a fortnight before the battle of Depzig, the same in which our forces suffered such a disastrous defeat, that he set foot with his faithful companion upon his native soil. A week later, as if to make amends, General Groplau, with a zeal and gallantry that is beyond all praise, met and defeated a force of the enemy much greater than his own. It was with his army that Max took service, not as became his rank, but in the capacity of a private soldier. That he and his companion had seen service before soon became apparent, but little did anyone guess that the stalwart, handsome man, who did not know the meaning of the word fear, who was never tired, and whose only apparent desire was to be placed where the danger was greatest, was none other than their king. During the first month of his new life he was present at no less than three battles, in each of which he displayed conspicuous heroism. Brave as our soldiers were, such valour as his could scarcely fail to have passed unnoticed. But it was not until that dreadful day when Gredlau was lost, and all the officers of his own regiment had been killed, and he had rallied what remained of the men, continuing the fight until they were nearly all disabled and shot down, that any recognition of his bravery was afforded him. Then he was summoned to the general's presence. He had been wounded in the arm, and was still weak from loss of blood.
"Your conduct has been reported to me," said the general, who, being a brave man himself, could recognise courage in others. "I can only regret that your efforts were not rewarded with success. I am proud to offer you a commission in the regiment you have served so well. I know of no man who has a better right to it."
Max saluted.
"Pardon me, general," he said respectfully, but firmly, "but—but, with your permission, I must decline the honour."
"Decline the honour!" cried the other in surprise, and also with some asperity. "What do you mean? Surely you understand the honour that has been done you?"
"I understand perfectly," Max replied. "Yet I would prefer to remain as I am."
Whatever the general's thoughts may have been, it is certain that his surprise equalled them. His experience of men had shown them to be more ready to seek rewards than to decline them. However, he had no time to analyse such a phenomenon just then.
"As you please, as you please," he answered. "Remain in the ranks if you prefer it. It seems to me, however, that you are throwing away the one chance of your life."
Then calling one of his aides-de-camp, he turned his attention to another matter, and Max, having saluted, returned to his bivouac. But though the general appeared to have set the matter aside, it did not seem as if he had altogether forgotten it, for later on, commenting on the incident, he said to one of his officers, "That man's face worries me. He is like a person I have seen before, but I cannot, for the life of me, think whose face it is, or where I met its owner."
On two other occasions Max came even nearer to being discovered. A week or so later he was on sentry duty, when a man, who had for many years acted as intermediary between the Count von Marquart and our father in England, stopped his horse and addressed a question to him. For a moment Max thought he could scarcely fail to recognise him, but the beard he wore, and the uniform of a private soldier must have changed his appearance, for the officer passed on without comment. The third occasion, however, was more desperate than either I have yet described.