. Egon appeared to be unconscious; the blonde hair was
thrown back, the eyes were closed, and under the mantle with which the
man had covered him was the blood-soaked uniform.

"Your highness!" said the old man in low, heart-rending tones. "Look at
me, speak to me! It is your old Stadinger."

The well-known voice found its way to the dying man's ear; he opened his
eyes slowly, and a faint smile crossed his face as he recognized his
faithful servant.

"My old ghost of the woods," he said softly; "and you are with me at the
last."

"But you'll not die, your highness," murmured Stadinger. His whole body
was in a tremble, but he never took his eyes from his adored master.
"No, you will not die, you will not die .'"

"Do you think it is so hard?" said Egon quietly. "Yesterday you were
quite right, a burden was on my heart, now it is light. Take a greeting
to dear Rodeck, and the forest, and to the lady of Ostwalden."

"To whom? To Frau von Wallmoden?" asked Stadinger, thinking he had not
heard aright.

"Yes, tell her I send her my last greeting; she must think of me
sometimes."

The words came slowly, brokenly, from the lips which would so soon
refuse to do further service, but there was no mistaking their full
significance. Eugen was startled when he heard his sister's name, and
bent over the dying man, who looked into the countenance which so
resembled Adelheid's, and again a smile lighted his face. Then he raised
his head and laid it heavily on the breast of his old ghost of the
woods, and the sunny blue eyes closed forever.

It was a short, painless battle with death, a peaceful falling to sleep.
Stadinger hardly breathed while life remained in the body of him he had
nursed as a babe and cherished as a man, but was to lose forever now.
When all was over the old man lost control of himself, and threw himself
in despair on the body of his beloved master, and sobbed like a child.

* * * * *

Yonder, on the other side of the mountain-pass, the clear, bright winter
sun lighted up the citadel which had just surrendered to the German
troops. The garrison which had occupied it were marching off prisoners
of war, while a portion of the victors were already on their way to the
fort.

General von Falkenried, surrounded by his staff, was standing in the
market-place of the little city, and was just on the point of marching
to the fortress. The helmets and guns of the men gleamed brightly