“Not in France nor in Austria. But this man was an Englishman; they leave legacies of friendship.”
The Colonel walked to the window and looked down into the gardens. He remained there for a time. Von Wallenstein eyed him curiously. Presently the soldier returned to his seat.
“We are crossing a chasm; a man stands in our way; as we can not go around him, we, being the stronger, push him aside. Eh?”
“You would not kill—” began the minister.
“Let us use the French meaning of the word `suppress.' And why not? Ambition, wherever it goes, leaves a trail of blood. What is a human life in this game we play? A leaf, a grain of sand.”
“But, since the prince promises to liquidate the debt, what matters it if the Englishman comes? It is all one and the same.”
“Within twenty, nay, within fifteen days, what may not happen?”
“You are ambitious,” said von Wallenstein, slyly.
“And who is not?”
“Is a Marshal's baton so much, then, above your present position? You are practically the head of the army.”