"Our boys may do it," said Evans, "but there are not many left." I lay back against the wall, pulled out a cigarette, and threw one to Evans. We could only wait. Suddenly outside we heard a stamp of feet, a hoarsely yelled order, "Fix bayonets!" another word of command, and a mass of men rushed past the window up the street, cheering madly.
"That's the ——s," cried a stretcher-bearer, who came in excitedly. "They have been sent up from the reserve."
The doctor came in. "We've got two more regiments up; we shall be all right now," he said.
For a moment the firing continued, then died down. Night came and found us still holding the village, and at ten o'clock the ambulance took us away.
THE STORY OF COUNT SEILERN
A Tragedy of the Hapsburgs
Assassinations, abductions, and scandals of every kind loom large in the records of the reigning Austrian house, and many of its crimes have not yet come to light, as this amazing story proves. But for the confession of an Austrian prisoner of war, anxious to relieve his mind of the burden that oppressed it, this latest instance of Hapsburg treachery would never have been heard of beyond the precincts of the Hofburg. "Le Matin," the well-known French newspaper, first drew attention to this officer's extraordinary story, which is here set forth in full, and as nearly as possible in his own words. It is a tragic tale indeed, a tale of love and duplicity in high places, which he told to the Wide World Magazine.
I—STORY OF THE VENETIAN NOBLEMAN