.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I ask you to give me your words of honour, that
what I am about to say shall never pass your lips."

He waited for them to speak. They looked first at each other and then at
him. At last they gave him their assurance that his wish should be
respected.

"I have fought it out by myself," he said, "and have come to a
conclusion. I shall return to Pannonia at once!"

"God bless you!" muttered Brockford, but not so low that Max could not
hear it.

"My country is at war, and if she is to be victorious, every son who has
the strength to wield a sword should rally to her assistance. It is my
intention to go back and offer my services, not in the capacity of her
king, but taking my place beside the humblest in the ranks. I place my
life in the hands of God, and leave the issue with Him. If Pannonia is
victorious, then I shall have proved my love for her, and it is possible
that what you wish may some day come to pass. If not, then I shall have
done what I shall always believe to have been my duty."

"In that case, I have a request to make," said Bertram nervously.

"What is it?" Max inquired. "It would be hard if I could not grant it,
seeing that I already owe you a debt I never can repay."

"It is that, if you are going, you will allow me to accompany you?"

"You shall do so if you wish," said Max quietly, and as he said it he
held out his hand, which the other took.

Two days later Max and Bertram sailed for Europe.

CHAPTER XIX.

Of the various vicissitudes which befell our unhappy country from the
time that, egged on to ruin by unscrupulous men, she drove her sovereign
across the border to seek an asylum elsewhere, it would be impossible
for me to speak in anything like detail. It must suffice, therefore,
that the long record of chicanery and blundering, of mismanagement and
oppression found its climax in the war to which I referred at the end of
the previous chapter. Dark as the outlook seemed, it was destined to
become even blacker before many months were passed. The battles which
marked the opening of the campaign have long since become a matter of
history, partly by reason of the desperate heroism shown by our troops,
but more, I fear, on account of the inability and blunderings of their
leaders. How heartrending that time was to us I must leave my readers to
imagine. Max seemed lost for ever; I was in exile, and yet we were
compelled to remain inactive, watching our devote