“His writing table,” murmured Count Saxe. “He is not much of a writer.”
“The candles had been blown out. We surrounded him, and put a pistol to his head, and he wakened with a start. We said to him, ‘We want you, Count Saxe, 277 only. We have force enough to carry you all off—the house is surrounded, and we can bag every one of you—go with us quietly and we will let the small fry off. But we are prepared for a fight, if necessary, knowing you are but a handful.’ Then Count Saxe said, quite coolly: ‘I see there is no use in resisting. Let me but secure some private letters—’ which he proceeded to do, as well as he could in the darkness, and with the pistol still at his ear. My captain said to him—’I wonder, Count Saxe, that so experienced a general as your Excellency should have been so imprudent as to come here with scarce a corporal’s guard behind you.’ ‘True,’ answered Count Saxe, ‘but I am paying for my folly, as you see. I am ready, gentlemen.’ I never saw a man take his fate more pleasantly than Count Saxe—he delayed not a moment. He is now our prisoner, while I am yours—but I fancy we have rather the best of the bargain.”
We looked at each other, and Count Saxe said:
“That fellow, Gaston Cheverny, has infinite readiness. He saved the whole of us, and he shall have his promotion as soon as he is released. Meanwhile, my dear Lieutenant Brohl, make yourself entirely at home. You are a gallant young man, and I shall have pleasure in exchanging you for Captain Cheverny, waiving the difference of rank. So, both of you will get credit out of this night’s performance, although you did not get Count Saxe, for I am Count Saxe!”
I never saw such a change of countenance as came over that poor little sub-lieutenant. He caught the idea in a moment, that the Austrians had been badly fooled. I felt really sorry for the poor little fellow. His 278 eyes filled with tears, his lip trembled. He was a gallant boy and we all felt sorry for him. Count Saxe had him conducted to Gaston Cheverny’s vacant room, sent him some champagne, and assured him that his conduct should be brought to the attention of Prince Eugene.
The rain had not ceased, but day was sullenly breaking. I thought, before nightfall, Gaston Cheverny would be with us again. I did not dream of what Destiny was preparing for him, of which this was but the overture. Count Saxe, with that noble candor which was a part of his character, frankly admitted his imprudence in remaining at Hüningen, and declared that Gaston Cheverny should be amply rewarded for saving him; for there is no doubt the Austrians would have carried Count Saxe off, if they had only got into the right room.
As soon as the little Austrian lieutenant was up and dressed, I went into the room he had occupied to secure Gaston Cheverny’s papers until he should return. I felt sure that his pretense of securing them was only an ineffectual ruse to gain time. I found nothing on his table of the least consequence, except a letter to Francezka, sealed and addressed. Of this I took possession.
By nine o’clock in the morning, Count Saxe sent me across the river with a flag of truce, to Prince Eugene’s headquarters, to arrange for the exchange of Lieutenant Brohl for Gaston Cheverny. I was instructed to waive the required number of common men to make up the difference in rank, if that point were raised.
On reaching the Austrian lines, I was politely escorted to headquarters, where Prince Eugene, that little 279 great man, that mighty hunchback, received me courteously. I handed him Count Saxe’s letter and he took off his hat while reading it. He then said to me:
“Nothing has been heard of the expedition since it left last night. We feared the whole party had been captured.”