The Baron Galetzoff had just returned from riding round the fortifications, and was about to throw himself on his couch for the night, when his servant entered the room to announce Count Erintoff. Throwing his cloak around him, he angrily arose to receive his guest.
“You come at an unseasonable hour, Count,” he said, with a harsh tone. “Am I to have no rest either from friends or foes? What brings you here?”
“I come with news which may interest you; but for your private ear, General,” returned the Count, looking at the servant who remained.
“Why stay you here? Begone, sirrah,” exclaimed the Baron to the man, who hastily disappeared. “Now, Count, your news,” he continued, turning to his guest, and relaxing his features a little. “It is late, and I would try to seek some rest; so pray no delay.”
“My news is not of much general importance,” returned the Count; “but to you, Baron, it may afford some satisfaction. At length I have found that immaculate officer, Lieutenant Stanisloff, tripping, if indeed I do not succeed in proving him a traitor. As he was to mount one of the outer guards to-night, it occurred to me that he might perhaps communicate with that arch-traitor, your once adopted son, whom, as I told you, I recognised among the horde of the mountain barbarians we were engaged with yesterday. I, therefore, having gone my rounds, waited for some time, and returned to his post; but when summoned, he did not answer: he was nowhere to be found. I, therefore, left my orderly to watch him, enjoining secrecy, and called others to witness that he was absent from his post, in the face of the enemy. My orderly has just come in to say, that after a long absence, he returned from the direction of the mountains. He is, therefore, entirely in your power; but I would not seize him without first consulting your wishes.”
“Then haste, seize him, and bring him here at once,” said the Baron. “To-morrow he shall die.”
The Count hurried off to obey, and during his absence, which lasted some time, the Baron strode up and down the room in an angry mood.
At length the Count returned with Thaddeus Stanisloff, his prisoner, strongly guarded.
“So, Lieutenant Stanisloff,” said the Baron, glaring fiercely at him, “you have been absent from your post when before the enemy. You have held conversation with an arch-traitor to the Emperor, and you are suspected of an intention to desert your colours.”
“Whoever accuses me,” exclaimed Thaddeus, returning the Baron’s look firmly, “speaks a foul and slanderous falsehood, if he says that I am, or ever have been wanting, in my allegiance to the Emperor.”