Their
departure caused him to search the heavens once more, and he knew that
he was looking for Lannes, who could not come.
Now von Arnheim passed down the graveled walk that led to the great
central gate, but, half way, turned from it and began to talk to some
sentinels who stood on the grass. He was certainly a fine fellow, tall,
well built, and yet free from the German stoutness of figure. He wore a
close uniform of blue-gray which fitted him admirably, and the moonlight
fell in a flood on his handsome, ruddy face.
"I hope you won't be killed," murmured John. "If there is any French
shell or shrapnel that is labeled specially for a prince and that must
have a prince, I pray it will take Auersperg in place of von Arnheim."
It was a serious prayer and he felt that it was without a trace of
wickedness or sacrilege. Evidently von Arnheim was giving orders of
importance, as two of the men, to whom he was talking, hurried to
horses, mounted and galloped down the road. Then the young prince walked
slowly back to the house and John could see that he was very thoughtful.
He passed his hand in a troubled way two or three times across his
forehead. Perhaps the medieval prince inside was putting upon the modern
prince outside labors that he was far from liking.
John's unformed plan of escape included Julie Lannes. He could not go
away without her. If he did he could never face Lannes again, and what
was more, he could never face himself.
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