mselves behind their chairs to
overlook the game.

Suddenly, with angry impetuosity, Arwed took one of his opponent's
knights with his king.

'Stop!' cried Kolbert, holding fast his officer. 'Your bishop will by
that movement remain uncovered, and I shall immediately take him.'

'Take him,' said Arwed. 'Your knight is troublesome to me, and must
die.'

'A mere exchange, for the sake of exchanging,--that is manifestly
contrary to the etiquette of the game!'

'It was not a mere exchange,' protested Arwed. 'You had a mischievous
plan. Had you led him out, I were lost. Your knight in the place where
he stood was worth more than an ordinary officer, and I could no longer
defend myself against him. Wherefore I exchanged to advantage, and I
should always do the same under like circumstances. Even if my opponent
lose no more than myself by the movement, yet I win temporary relief at
least, break up his attack, and compel him to resort to new
man[oe]uvres.'

'And to use the king like a subaltern officer is not civil,' grumbled
Kolbert.

'My king shall not keep himself behind the cannon, like a Persian
shah,' answered Arwed. 'Whenever necessity requires it, he must expose
himself as well as one of his soldiers.'

'A regular Charles XIIth,' cried some one behind him, with a scornful
laugh. Arwed turned suddenly round and perceived the chief engineer,
Megret, a Frenchman by birth, who with a satyr-like face was leaning
over the back of his chair.

'I thank you for the comparison, colonel, even though it was ironically
intended,' said the youth in a decidedly cutting tone. 'Would to God
that we all, not excepting even you, were able to imitate the elevated
character of our noble king in good and evil fortune; what accomplished
men should we then be!'

Megret bit his lips and retired to another table, where he got up a
company to play pharo.

'This is my first campaign,' proceeded Arwed with enthusiasm: 'and I
have seen the king in battle only twice in my life, but that has
furnished sufficient proof of his worth as a brave warrior and skilful
commander. He is always great, but when he has his sword in his hand he
is more than man--almost a demi-god--and one feels tempted to worship
him.'

'Not so, young man,' answered a hollow voice. 'That was a very improper
speech.'

Arwed recognised the voice as one he had heard before. Raising his
eyes, he saw behind Kolbert's chair a meagre man about thirty years of
age, in