"You don"t know?"
"No, on my honour, I don"t know."
"Did he give you a message for me before you left him?"
"Yes, these are his very words."
"Oh, speak, speak!" And Helen clasped her hands and sank on a chair in front of Benedict as though before a sacred messenger. A message from those whom we love is always sacred.
"Listen; he said to me: "The day is lost. Fate has overtaken the house of Austria. I am going to kill myself because it is my duty.""
Helen groaned.
"And I!" she murmured. "He did not think of me."
"Wait." He went on, "But you who are not tied to our fortune; you, who are fighting as an amateur; you, who are French when all is said, and done, it would be folly for you to kill yourself for a cause which is not your own. Fight to the last moment, then when you know that all resistance is vain, get back to Frankfort, go to Helen, tell her that I am dead, if you have seen me die, or that I am in retreat for Darmstadt or Wurtzburg with the remains of the army. If I live, I will write to her if I die, I die thinking of her. This is my heart"s testament, I confide it to you.""
"Dear Karl! and then...?"
"Twice we saw each other in the fray. On the bridge at Aschaffenburg, where he was slightly wounded in the forehead, then a quarter-of-an-hour later, between a little wood called Joli-Buisson and the village of Lieder."
"And there?"
"There he was surrounded by enemies, but he was still fighting."
"My G.o.d!"
"Then I thought of you.... The war is over. We were the last of Austria"s vital powers, her last hope. Dead or alive, Karl is yours from this hour. Shall I go back to the battlefield? I will search until I get news of him. If he is dead, I will bring him back."
Helen let a sob escape her.
"If he is wounded, I will bring him back to you, recovered I a.s.sure you."
Helen had seized Benedict by the arm, and looked fixedly at him.
"You will go on to the battlefield?" she said.
"Yes."
"And you will seek for him among the dead?"
"Yes," said he, "until I find him."
"I will go with you," said Helen.
"You?" cried Benedict.
"It is my duty. I recognize you now. You are Benedict Turpin, the French painter who fought with Frederic, and who spared his life."
"Yes."
"Then you are a friend and a man of honour. I can trust in you. Let us go."
"Is that settled?"
"It is settled."
"Do you seriously wish it?"
"I do wish it."
"Very well, then, there is not an instant to lose."
"How shall we go?"
"The railways have been destroyed."
"Hans will take us."
"I have a better plan than that. Carriages can be broken, drivers can be forced. I have the right man, a man who would break all his carriages and lame all his horses for me."
Benedict called, and Hans appeared.
"Run to your brother Lenhart. Tell him to be here within ten minutes with his best carriage and horses, and wine and bread. As you pa.s.s the chemist"s tell him to get bandages, lint, and strapping."
"Oh, sir," said Hans, "I must write that down."
"Very well, a carriage, two horses, bread and wine; you mustn"t forget that. I will see to the rest. Go." Then, turning to Helen, "Will you tell your relatives?" asked Benedict.
"Oh no!" she cried. "They would wish to prevent me from going. I am under the protection of the Virgin."
"Pray then. I will come back here for you."
Helen threw herself on her knees. Benedict went quickly out of the church. Ten minutes later he came back with all the necessary things for the dressing of wounds, and four torches.
"Shall we take Hans?" asked Helen.
"No, it must not be known where you are. If we bring back Karl wounded, a room must be ready for him, and a surgeon ready. Also, his arrival would cause agitation to your sister, scarcely well again, or to your grandmother, whose age must be taken into consideration."
"What time shall we get back?"
"I don"t know, but we may be expected at four in the morning. You hear, Hans? And if they fear for your young mistress--"
"You will answer," said Lenhart, "that they may be easy, because Benedict Turpin is with her."
"You hear, dear Helen. I am ready when you are."
"Let us go," she said, "and not lose a minute. My G.o.d! when I think that he may be there, perhaps lying on the earth under some tree or bush, bleeding from two or three wounds, and calling on me with his dying voice for help!" and in high agitation she went on: "I am coming, dear Karl, I am coming!"