He felt a
small hand secretly press his.
"And you have always succeeded, Captain," said a voice which
made Maurice's foolish heart leap. "See, I am the first to give
you your new rank. How you must suffer!"
"God bless your Royal Highness!" murmured the fellow, at once
racked with pain and happiness. "But I am not the one you must
thank for this night's work."
The Marshal peered at the silent figure beyond the fireplace.
Maurice was compelled to stand forth. "Ah!" said the Marshal.
"Yes," went on von Mitter, "but for him no one knows what the
end might have been. And I, thinking him one of the abducting
party coming up from the rear, shot at him."
The princess took a step forward, anxiety widening her dark eyes;
and the swift glance added to the fever in the recipient's
veins. . . . How beautiful she was, and how far away! He laid
his hand on the top of von Mitter's chair.
"Monsieur Carewe," said the Marshal, "seems to have plenty of
leisure time on his hands--fortunately for us. You were not hit?"
"O, no," said Maurice, blushing. He had discerned an
undercurrent of raillery in the Marshal's tones.
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