in the deep snow. Priest and sacristan were gone long since,
and the house of God bore traces of demolition, for a deadly battle had
been fought on this height. The walls were standing and part of the
pointed roof; the rest had been carried away by shot and shell, and the
wind whistled through the shattered windows. Ice and snow covered the
surrounding wood, and a faint half-moon lit up the whole with a
ghastly, uncertain light.

It was a bitter cold night, like that memorable one at Rodeck. A deep
red flame lit up the horizon, but it was no northern light this time, no
purple glow to lessen the gloom, it was the signal of war, the deep,
blood-red flash such as went up from every village and hamlet in
Germany, rousing men to action, waving them on to battle and--to death!

A single guard stood at one of the lonely outposts--Hartmut von
Falkenried. His eyes were fixed on distant watch fires which from time
to time sent up their showers of sparks to heaven. In the distance,
warmth and light, here, ice and night. The cold which had been intense
all day strengthened with the night, and seemed to freeze out all life
from the solitary watch on duty. True there were other sentinels, at
various posts, but they were not accustomed to winters in the Orient or
in Sicily. Hartmut had spent no winters in the north since his boyhood's
days, and the cold seemed to freeze the very blood in his veins.

A deadly languor came over him, which was not the forerunner of sleep;
it crept into the limbs and closed the heavy eyelids. He fought it off
bravely, but it would return again and again as the icy air grew colder.
He knew what it meant and struggled bravely against it. Surely he would
not freeze to death.

His glance turned, as if seeking strength, to the little half-ruined
house of God. What were church and altar to him? He had cast all belief
from him long ago. Death was an eternal night, and life alone could give
him all he wished, full expiation of his early fault, the woman he
loved, the poet's crown, his father's blessing! But here he stood at his
post waiting an inglorious death, which he felt would meet him ere the
night was over. He would not swerve from duty, death might seek him and
find him--on guard.

Then in the distance he heard steps and voices which came nearer; they
waked him up from the lethargy into which he had fallen. He aroused
himself and grasped his gun more firmly, though he knew it was some one
from his ow