“I have always tried to do my duty,” said von Mitter. He felt a small hand secretly press his.
“And you have always succeeded, Captain,” said a voice which made Maurice's foolish heart leap. “See, I am the first to give you your new rank. How you must suffer!”
“God bless your Royal Highness!” murmured the fellow, at once racked with pain and happiness. “But I am not the one you must thank for this night's work.”
The Marshal peered at the silent figure beyond the fireplace. Maurice was compelled to stand forth. “Ah!” said the Marshal.
“Yes,” went on von Mitter, “but for him no one knows what the end might have been. And I, thinking him one of the abducting party coming up from the rear, shot at him.”
The princess took a step forward, anxiety widening her dark eyes; and the swift glance added to the fever in the recipient's veins.... How beautiful she was, and how far away! He laid his hand on the top of von Mitter's chair.
“Monsieur Carewe,” said the Marshal, “seems to have plenty of leisure time on his hands—fortunately for us. You were not hit?”
“O, no,” said Maurice, blushing. He had discerned an undercurrent of raillery in the Marshal's tones. “The ball came close to my ear, that was all. It is strange how that fellow got away. I am positive that I hit him.”
“We shall find him,” said the Marshal, with a look at the newly-appointed Colonel which said: “Your straps hang in the balance.” He rubbed his nose. “Well, is your Royal Highness satisfied that there is no danger?”
“Yes, Marshal; but think, if he should have been killed! Ah, what does it all mean? What had this man against me, who have always been kind to him?”