They brought us a supper of mutton and rice and a bottle of gin about the hour of ten o'clock, and then they spread our beds upon the bare stone floor. These were of heavy blankets with a rude mattress beneath them. But they were beds for all that, and under any other circumstances they would have been a luxury. This night, however, we regarded them with indifference. Our brains were fired and our ears awake. Who would have slept under circumstances so tragic?
Perchance the impotence of our condition added to its bitterness. If we could have struck a blow in the cause; have buckled on our swords and gone out to deal with the merry old gentleman and his satellites, it would have been different: but to sit in that gloomy room, to hear the city's bells numbering the hours, to count the footsteps of the sentries and to pray for dawn—that was a torture beyond compare.
Not a mouthful of food had Léon eaten that day, nor could I persuade him to touch the mess they offered us. He spoke of Valerie always, delighting to remind me of the day when he had first seen her in Prince Nicholas's palace; or of that night when she had saved us at the tower, and of her courage during the dreadful days—indeed, of a thousand things which a lover had seen but older eyes had missed. To all of which I could but answer indifferently.
"She is clever," I would say. "She will know how to deal with your merry old gentleman." When he asked if we knew how to deal with him, there was nothing more to be said. The grim walls of the prison answered him; the chime of the distant bells was an irony.
So the night sped on. For an hour, I think about twelve o'clock, I flung myself upon the wretched bed and slept fitfully. My head was in a whirl, and vain dreams tormented me. At one time I thought that we had leapt down into the moat and that the icy water choked us. At another I was riding proudly into Elbing at the head of the Vélites. Upon this there came the voice of many crying "Vive l'Empereur!" and "Vive la France!" I heard a great rolling of drums and the welcome blare of trumpets. This roused me thoroughly, and sitting up I saw that Léon was standing at the window and that the dream indeed had come true.
"Good God!" cried I. "What is it? What do you hear, Léon?"
He answered me, still standing there.
"The French are in the city, mon oncle. Listen to that!"
His voice echoed a triumph which thrilled me. Instantly I was at his side listening to the familiar sounds. Never did the roll of a drum fall so pleasantly upon a man's ear.
"We are saved," said I, though heaven knows the hope of it was still but a dream.