“Sir, it is a long while since we have heard of the King of Sweden at Stralsund,” remarked the sentry, not moving from his post.
“Call out the guard,” said the stranger imperiously. “I must pass.”
His companion, a slight, fair young man, wrapped in a heavy furred mantle, now spoke.
“Fellow, do not keep us here parleying this bitter night—we have ridden from Hungary to Mecklenburg, and it is sixteen days since we saw a bed.”
The guard had now turned out into the narrow gate space, and the officer asked the strangers their business.
“Sir,” said the first speaker, “we bring dispatches from the King of Sweden.”
“The Governor is in bed,” said the officer, “you must wait till daybreak.”
“Sir,” cried the traveler, with a flash of terrible blue eyes from the shadow of his laced hat, “if you do not go at once and wake General Dücker you will all be punished to-morrow.”
The officer admitted them into the town at this, but was still inclined to refuse to wake the Governor.
“My God!” murmured the fair young man. “Is this journey to have no end?”