"That which retreated first by the Limfiörd. Tilly overtook it, and forced every regiment successively to lay down its arms. The old corporal has sworn by our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, that ere Yule-day every inch of Danish earth shall be under the dominion of Ferdinand. Christian has fled with all his court—fled none know where, and Denmark is all but conquered! Kœningheim has sent word that Tilly expects to see me daily."
"Can all this be true, Baron Fœyœ?" I asked the steward incredulously, as he joined us at the castle gate.
"About as true as that the Norwegian bears speak very good Danish," he replied, twisting his yellow mustaches and looking spitefully at Carlstein.
"No doubt such tidings are very unpleasant for you, Herr Baron," replied the count, with a haughty and somewhat provoking smile; "but I beg again to assure you that all laid down their arms without firing a shot—all save the Scottish battalions of Lord Nithsdale and Sir James Sinclair of Murkle, who obtained leave to march into Sweden, and join the banner of the young and gallant Gustavus Adolphus."
"It is impossible!" said the stout baron passionately, as he stamped about in his calfskin boots; "it is impossible, and I will never believe it!"
"I had it from the best authority," said the count, still smiling; "Bandolo has been here."
"Bandolo!" I exclaimed; "I had quite forgotten that wretch."
"Well, then, he who is to Tilly what Father Joseph is to Richelieu, has been here."
"Bandolo here,—on this island of Falster?" said the baron, turning angrily to me. "Now, by the holy Dannebrog, mein Herr, your kilted sentinels must be no better than moles or blind bats!"
"A single company of soldiers cannot furnish sentinels for the whole island, Herr Baron," I replied, with some asperity; "there are here a hundred little creeks and bays where a boat may land a man unseen, and sail again. But I thought this rascal died at Heilinghafen."