The Baron's Sons Part 19

"I know you from my son's letters," was the reply. "In your face and your words I read that you can be none other than Richard's betrothed.

But how did you learn all this,--that I was here, who I was, and that Richard was in danger?"

"I will tell you all," answered Edith, and she gave a hurried account of what she had overheard at her aunt's that evening. "But they were mistaken in me," she concluded. "They thought my spirit was broken and that they could do what they wished with me. But I ran away from them; I ran all the way here in the dark, and though I never saw you before, I knew you at once. G.o.d protected and guided me, and he will lead me still farther."

The speaker's pa.s.sionate words betrayed so much n.o.bility of soul that the baroness, quite carried away with admiration, put her arm around Edith's neck and let her eyes rest tenderly on the face of the girl who showed such true love for her Richard.

"Calm yourself, my child," said she, "and let us take counsel together. You see I am perfectly composed. This plot is to be carried out to-morrow morning, you say?"

"Yes, I am sure of it."

"Then half the night is still left for defeating it."

The girl clasped her hands with a beseeching gesture. "Oh, take me with you!" she begged.

The other considered a moment. "Very well," she replied, "you may come, too."

Edith clapped her hands with delight, while the baroness opened the door and called the market-woman.

"Frau Babi," said she, "we must set out at once, and this young lady will accompany us."

"Then she must wear another dress," interposed the old woman.

"And have you one for her?" asked the baroness.

"Oh, plenty of them." And with that Frau Babi raised the cover of an old chest and rummaged about for garments suitable for a young peasant girl's wear. She seemed to have an ample stock of old clothes.

"A charming little market-wench!" exclaimed the old woman, when she had wrought the desired metamorphosis. "And now for a basket to carry on her back. You never carried anything like that before, I'll warrant. But don't fear; I'll find you a light one and fill it with dry rolls that won't weigh anything. We two will manage the potatoes and onions."

Edith regarded it all as an excellent joke and hung her basket on her back in great good humour.

The clocks were striking two as the three women at length reached the Kaiserstra.s.se. At the barricade there was no guard visible. The investing forces here consisted only of a small detachment of cavalry whose main body was encamped at Schwechat; and cavalry is never used for storming barricades. Nevertheless, there were sharpshooters posted in the neighbouring houses to guard against a possible a.s.sault.

Thus the women were able to pa.s.s unchallenged.

It was a more difficult task, however, to get through the investing lines. But those who remember the Vienna of those days will recall the unfilled hollow between Hernals and what was then known as the Schmelz, designed to receive the water that flowed from the mountains after heavy rains. Hewn stones and wooden planks lined the sides of this depression. It was not a pleasant spot to visit, but it offered a good hiding-place to any one seeking concealment.

Frau Babi led the way down into this hollow, which was then, luckily, free from water. Climbing out on the farther side, she looked cautiously around and then bade the others follow her, first drawing up their baskets for them.

"Leave them here," said she. "The hussars are over yonder."

At a distance of two hundred paces could be seen a couple of men standing by a watch-fire, while beyond them, within the cemetery, five or six more fires were burning in a group, indicating the encampment of the squadron.

"I was right," added the old woman. "You two go on now; you won't need me any longer."

Taking Edith by the hand, Baroness Baradlay advanced toward the first watch-fire. The sentinels saw their approach, but did not challenge them until they were very near.

"Halt! Who goes there?" cried one of the hors.e.m.e.n.

"Friends," was the answer.

"Give the countersign."

"Saddle horses and right about!"

At this the hussar sprang from his saddle, approached the baroness, and kissed her hand respectfully. "We have been looking for you, madam," said he.

"Do you know who I am, Paul?"

"Yes, madam, and thank heaven you are here safely."

"Where is my son?"

"I will take you to him at once. And that pretty little creature?" he asked, in a low tone, pointing to Edith.

"She comes with me."

"I understand."

The old hussar left his horse in his comrade's care and led the two women toward a small whitewashed house which stood within the cemetery, and had formerly been used as the grave-digger's dwelling, but now served as Richard's quarters. He occupied a little room that looked out upon the city, and this room he had that moment entered after a late night ride.

"There they are again!" he cried, bringing his fist down heavily on the table, upon which the latest newspapers from Pest were spread out, showing a number of articles marked with red. "Into the fire with them!"

But, angry as he seemed to be at finding the papers thrust upon his notice, Captain Baradlay could not persuade himself to burn them unread; and having once begun to read, he could not stop. Resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, he read over and over again the marked pa.s.sages, his brow darkening as he proceeded.

"It is not true, it cannot be true!" he exclaimed, struggling with his feelings. "It is all false, it is utterly preposterous!"

At the sound of approaching footsteps, he crumpled the papers up in his hand. Old Paul entered, and Richard turned upon him in a pa.s.sion.

"What thieving rascal has been stealing into my room and leaving these infamous newspapers on my table?"

Paul made answer with his accustomed phlegm: "If you told me a thief had carried off something, I could understand it; but that a thief should bring you something is stranger than anything I ever heard of."

"A bundle of newspapers is smuggled through my locked door every day, and laid on my table. Who does it?"

"What do I know of newspapers? I can't read."

"You are trying to fool me, Paul," rejoined his master. "Don't you suppose I know that you have been learning to read these last three months? Who is your teacher?"

"Never mind about him. He was a trumpeter, a student expelled from his university, and he died yesterday. He had been at death's door for a long time. I begged him not to take all his learning with him to the next world, but to leave me some of it."

"And why did you want to learn to read?"

Straightening himself up, the old soldier answered firmly: "Captain, I could easily give you a false reply to that question. If I wished to deceive you, I could say I had learned to read because I wanted to be promoted. But I will tell you the truth: I have learned to read in my old age in order to know what is going on at home."

"So you too read this stuff? How does it get in here?"

"Never mind that now. I have to report that two ladies wish to speak with Captain Baradlay."

The astonished officer thought he must be dreaming when his old servant opened the door and he found himself face to face with his dear and honoured mother, while, peering out from behind her back, was seen the sweet young face of the girl he loved more than life itself.