could never face himself. It was in reality this thought
that made his resolve to escape seem so difficult. It had been lurking
continuously in the back of his head. To go away without Julie was
impossible. Under ordinary circumstances her situation as a prisoner
would not be alarming. Germans regarded women with respect. They had
done so from the earliest times, as he had learned from the painful
study of Tacitus. Von Arnheim had received a deep impression from
Julie's beauty and grace. John could tell it by his looks, but those
looks were honest. They came from the eyes and heart of one who could do
no wrong. But the other! The man of the Middle Ages, the older prince.
He was different. War re-created ancient passions and gave to them
opportunities. No, he could not think of leaving without Julie!

He kept his place at the tall, narrow window, and the night was steadily
growing brighter. A full, silver moon was swinging high in the heavens.
The stars were out in myriads in that sky of dusky, infinite blue, and
danced regardless of the tiny planet, Earth, shaken by battle. From the
hills came the relentless groaning which he knew was the sound of the
guns, fighting one another under the searchlights.

Then he heard the clatter of hoofs, and another company of Uhlans rode
up to the chateau. Their leader dismounted and entered the great gate.
John recognized von Boehlen, who had taken off his helmet to let the
cool air blow upon his close-cropped head. He stood on the graveled walk
for a few minutes directly in a flood of silver rays, every feature
showing clearly. He had been arrogant and domineering, but John liked
him far better than Auersperg. His cruelty would be the cruelty of
battle, and there might be a streak of sentimentalism hidden under the
stiff and harsh German manner, like a vein of gold in rock. As von
Boehlen resumed his approach to the house he passed from John's range of
vision, and then the prisoner watched the horizon for anything that he
might see. Twice he beheld the far flare of searchlights, but nobody
else came to the chateau, and the night darkened somewhat. No rattle of
arms or stamp of hoofs came from the hussars in the grounds, and he
judged that all but the sentinels slept. Nor was there any sound of
movement in the house, and in the peaceful silence he at last began to
feel sleepy. The problems of his position were too great for him to
solve--at least for the present--and lying down on the