The Forest of Swords: A Story of Paris and the Marne by Joseph A. Altsheler (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

attention everywhere. The German note was discipline and obedience, obedience and discipline. A nation, with wonderful powers of thinking, it was a nation that ceased to think when the call of the drill sergeant came. Discipline and obedience had made it terrible and unparalleled in war, to a certain point, but beyond that point the nations that did think in spite of their sergeants, could summon up reserves of strength and courage which the powers of the trained militarists could not create. At least John thought so.

The long windows of the house threw back the last rays of the setting sun, and it was twilight when von Arnheim and his four captives entered the château. A large man, middle-aged, heavy and bearded, wearing the uniform of a German general rose, and a staff of several officers rose with him. It was Auersperg, the medieval prince, and John's heart was troubled.

Von Arnheim saluted, bowing deeply. He stood not only in the presence of his general, but of royalty also. It was something in the German blood, even in one so brave and of such high rank as von Arnheim himself, that compelled humility, and John, like the fierce democrat he was, did not like it at all. The belief was too firmly imbedded in his mind ever to be removed that men like Auersperg and the mad power for which they stood had set the torch to Europe.

"Captain von Boehlen took some prisoners, Your Highness," said von Arnheim, "and as he was compelled to continue on his expedition he has sent them here under the escort of Lieutenant Puttkamer. The young lady is Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, the sister of the aviator, of whom we all know, the woman and the peasant are her servants, and the young man, whom we have seen before, is an American, John Scott in the French service."

He spoke in French, with intention, John thought, and the heavy-lidded eyes of Auersperg dwelt an instant on the fresh and beautiful face of Julie. And that momentary glance was wholly medieval. John saw it and understood it. A rage against Auersperg that would never die flamed up in his heart. He already hated everything for which the man stood. Auersperg's glance passed on, and slowly measured the gigantic figure of Picard. Then he smiled in a slow and ugly fashion.

"Ah, a peasant in civilian's dress, captured fighting our brave armies! Our orders are very strict upon that point. Von Arnheim, take this franc tireur behind the château and have him shot at once."

He too had spoken in French, and doubtless with intention also. John felt a thrill of horror, but Julie Lannes, turning white, sprang before Picard:

"No! No!" she cried to Auersperg. "You cannot do such a thing! He is not a soldier! They would not take him because he is too old! He is my mother's servant! It would be barbarous to have him shot!"

Auersperg looked again at Julie, and smiled, but it was the slow, cold smile of a master.

"You beg very prettily, Mademoiselle," he said.

She flushed, but stood firm.

"It would be murder," she said. "You cannot do it!"

"You know little of war. This man is a franc tireur, a civilian in civilian's garb, fighting against us. It is our law that all such who are caught be shot immediately."

"Your Highness," said von Arnheim, "I have reason to think that the lady's story is correct. This man's daughter is her maid, and he is obviously a servant of her house."

Auersperg turned his slow, heavy look upon the young Prussian, but John noticed that von Arnheim met it without flinching, although Picard had really fired upon the Germans. He surmised that von Arnheim was fully as high-born as Auersperg, and perhaps more so. John knew that these things counted for a lot in Germany, however ridiculous they might seem to a democratic people. Nevertheless Auersperg spoke with irony:

"Your heart is overworking, von Arnheim," he said "Sometimes I fear that it is too soft for a Prussian. Our Emperor and our Fatherland demand that we shall turn hearts of steel to our enemies, and never spare them. But it may be, my brave Wilhelm, that your sympathy is less for this hulking peasant and more for the fair face of the lady whom he serves."

John saw Julie's face flush a deep red, and his hand stole down to his belt, but no weapon was there. Von Arnheim's face reddened also, but he stood at attention before his superior officer and replied with dignity:

"I admire Mademoiselle Lannes, although I have known her only ten minutes, but I think, Your Highness, that my admiration is warranted, and also that it is not lacking in respect."

"Good for you, von Arnheim," said John, under his breath. But the medieval mind of Auersperg was not disturbed. The slow, cruel smile passed across his face again.

"You are brave my Wilhelm," he said, "but I am confirmed in my opinion that some of our princely houses have become tainted. The harm that was done when Napoleon smashed his way through Europe has never been undone. The touch of the democracy was defilement, and it does not pass. Do you think our ancestors would have wasted so much time over a miserable French peasant?"

This was a long speech, much too long for the circumstances, John thought, but von Arnheim still standing stiffly at attention, merely said:

"Your Highness I ask this man's life of you. He is not a franc tireur in the real sense."

"Since you make it a personal matter, my brave young Wilhelm, I yield. Let him be held a prisoner, but no more requests of the same kind. This is positively the last time I shall yield to such a weakness."

"Thank you, Your Highness," said von Arnheim. Julie gave him one flashing look of gratitude and stepped away from Picard, who had stood, his arms folded across his chest, refusing to utter a single word for mercy. "This indeed," thought John "is a man." Suzanne was near, and now both he and his daughter turned away relaxing in no wise their looks of grim resolution. "Here also is a woman as well as a man," thought John.

"I hope, Your Highness, that I may assign Mademoiselle Lannes and her maid to one of the upper rooms," said von Arnheim in tones respectful, but very firm. "Here also is another man," thought John.

"You may," said Auersperg shortly, "but let the peasant be sent to the stables, where the other prisoners are kept."

Two soldiers were called and they took Picard away. Julie and Suzanne followed von Arnheim to a stairway, and John was left alone with medievalism. The man wore no armor, but when only they two stood in the room his feeling that he was back in the Middle Ages was overpowering. Here was the baron, and here was he, untitled and unknown.

Auersperg glanced at Julie, disappearing up the stairway, and then glanced back at John. Over his heavy face passed the same slow cruel smile that set all John's nerves to jumping.

"Why have you, an American, come so far to fight against us?" he asked.

"I didn't come for that purpose. I was here, visiting, and I was caught in the whirl of the war, an accident, perhaps. But my sympathies are wholly with France. I fight in her ranks from choice."

Auersperg laughed unpleasantly.

"A republic!" he said. "Millions of the ignorant, led by demagogues! Bah! The Hohenzollerns will scatter them like chaff!"

"I can't positively say that I saw any Hohenzollern, but I did see their armies turned back from Paris by those ignorant people, led by their demagogues. I'm not even sure of the name of the French general who did it, but God gave him a better brain for war, though he may have been born a peasant for all I know, than he did to your Kaiser, or any king, prince, grand duke or duke in all the German armies!"

John had been tried beyond endurance and he knew that he had spoken with impulsive passion, but he knew also that he had spoken with truth. The face of Auersperg darkened. The medieval baron, full of power, without responsibility, believing implicitly in what he chose to call his order, but which was merely the chance of birth, was here. And while the Middle Ages in reality had passed, war could hide many a dark tale. John was unable to read the intent in the cruel eyes, but they heard the footsteps of von Arnheim on the stairs, and the clenched hand that had been raised fell back by Auersperg's side. Nevertheless medievalism did not relax its gaze.

"What to you is this girl who seems to have charmed von Arnheim?" he asked.

"Her brother has become my best friend. She has charmed me as she has charmed von Arnheim, and as she charms all others whom she meets. And I am pleased to tell Your Highness that the spell she casts is not alone her beauty, but even more her pure soul."

Auersperg laughed in an ugly fashion.

"Youth! Youth!" he exclaimed. "I see that the spell is upon you, even more than it is upon von Arnheim. But dismiss her from your thoughts. You go a prisoner into Germany, and it's not likely that you'll ever see her again."

Young Scott felt a sinking of the heart, but he was not one to show it.

"Prisoners may escape," he said boldly, "and what has been done once can always be done again."

"We shall see that it does not happen a second time in your case. Von Arnheim will dispose of you for the night, and even if you should succeed in stealing from the château there is around it a ring of German sentinels through which you could not possibly break."

Some strange kink appeared suddenly in John's brain—he was never able to account for it afterward, though Auersperg's manner rasped him terribly.

"I mean to escape," he said, "and I wager you two to one that I do."

Auersperg sat down and laughed, laughed in a way that made John's face turn red. Then he beckoned to von Arnheim.

"Take him away," he said. "He is characteristic of his frivolous democracy, frivolous and perhaps amusing, but it is a time for serious not trifling things."

John was glad enough to go with von Arnheim, who was silent and depressed. Yet the thought came to him once more that there were princes and princes. Von Arnheim led the way to a small bare room under the roof. John saw that there were soldiers in the upper halls as well as the lower, and he was sorry that he had made such a boast to Auersperg. As he now saw it his chance of escape glimmered into nothing.

"You should not have spoken so to His Highness," said von Arnheim. "I could not help but hear. He is our commander here, and it is not well to infuriate one who holds all power over you?"

"I am but human," replied John.

"And being human, you should have had complete control over yourself at such a time."

"I admit it," said John, taking the rebuke in the right spirit.

"You're to spend the night here. I've been able to secure this much lenity for you, but it's for one night only. Tomorrow you go with the other prisoners in the stables. Your door will be locked, but even if you should succeed in forcing it don't try to escape. The halls swarm with sentinels, and you would be shot instantly. I'll have food sent to you presently."

He spoke brusquely but kindly. When he went out John heard a huge key rumbling in the lock.

CHAPTER XIV A PROMISE KEPT

The room in which John was confined contained only a bed, a chair and a table. It was lighted by a single window, from which he could see numerous soldiers below. He also heard the distant mutter of the cannon, which seemed now to have become a part of nature. There were periods of excitement or of mental detachment, when he did not notice it, but it was always there. Now the soldiers in the grounds were moving but little, and the air pulsed with the thud of the great guns.

He recalled again his promise, or rather threat, to Auersperg that he would escape. Instinctively he went to the narrow but tall window and glanced at the heavens. Then he knew that impulse had made him look for Lannes and the Arrow, and he laughed at his own folly. Even if Lannes knew where they were he could not slip prisoners out of a house, surrounded by watchful German troops.

He heard the heavy key turning in the lock, and a silent soldier brought him food, which he put upon the table. The man remained beside the door until John had eaten his