'Whither?'
'To the French camp, before Elsace-Zaberne.'
'Alas!'
'Your rank forbids me even to hope,' said I.
'Then love will soon die.'
'Nay, nay! give me leave to seek a field where I may fall, if I cannot forget you. I leave this to-night, and take the road by Sarrebourg and Phalsbourg towards Alsace. Oh, Marie Louise! in memory of the love I have vowed and you have accepted, think of me sometimes; and in memory of the pleasant days we have passed—of all I hoped, and all that never can be—give me one kind kiss before I leave you for ever!'
We opened our arms, and were about to meet, when simultaneously we caught sight of a tall man, wearing a mantle and star, a long feather and sword, who stood between the parted arras of the doorway, observing us with sinister eyes, while quietly smoothing his large collar of fine Flemish lace, and lounging against the door-post.
'Count Pappenheim!' I exclaimed, instinctively placing my hand into my sword-hilt.
'At your service, Monsieur l'Abbé, or Monsieur Scaramouche, by the devil's death! which you please.'
How long had he been there? How much or how little he had heard of our interview, of her abhorrence for him and her love for me, of my route and purpose, I knew not. Quick as lightning, I asked these questions of myself, and sternly made a step towards him. He gave us a malicious smile, and with a bow of profound irony, said—