"For what?"
"Why, did I not say it?"
"For my wife, perhaps?" cried the ex-patient, starting up, hunger and thirst alike forgotten.
"That would have been a good idea!" thought Hanzli; "they might have done that, but they did not. It is for you yourself, my beloved master—for you alone that all this war is waging," he whispered, with upraised eyes, pointing with his long ape-like arms to his master, who had fallen on his back; for though he did not understand the circumstances of the affair, he was very much alarmed for all that.
He stared at Hanzli, and Hanzli stared at him; both seemed afraid of renewing the conversation.
"But why—what does the French Emperor want with me?" asked Vendel at last, in a voice faint with suspense and terror.
"Ay," replied Hanzli, "that is the thing! They have a great project about you, master. I saw the green csako hussars whispering together, and shaking their heads. 'That is the man,' I heard them say, 'and no other;' and I came as near as possible to listen who or what it could be, and what should I hear"—
"Well, and what did you hear?"
"They said—whispering as low as possible, that nobody might hear them—that the French Emperor would not cease devastating the land with fire and sword, until they delivered him up as a ransom"—
"Well?"