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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Tell Rickerl von Elster that his king is making mischief," laughed the vicomte, "and he may go back to Berlin when he chooses." Then, smiling at the young, flushed faces, he leaned on his wife's arm and passed slowly along the terrace towards the house. "I wonder why Lorraine has not come?" he said to his wife. "Won't she come to-night for the dance?"
A vision of little Alixe came before him, blond, tearful, gazing trustingly at Sir Thorald's drooping mustache. It made him angry; he wished, for a moment, that he had Sir Thorald by the neck. This train of thought led him to think of Rickerl, and from Rickerl he naturally came to the 11th Uhlans.
"Then you are mine!" "Yes. May God spare you!" And Rickerl, loyal in little things, swung her gently to the ground again, unkissed. There was a flurry of gravel, a glimpse of a horse rearing, plunging, springing into the darkness that was all. And she crept back to the terrace with hot, tearless lids, that burned till all her body quivered with the fever in her aching eyes.
Some one shouted, "It's loaded with explosive bullets!" "Then drop it!" roared Rickerl. "For shame!" The crash of the rifle drowned his voice. The balloon's shadowy bulk above the forest was belted by a blue line of light; the globe contracted, a yellow glare broke out in the sky.
But she was still thinking of Rickerl, bless her little heart! Lady Hesketh waved him a demure adieu from the open window, relented, and gave his hand a hasty squeeze with her gloved fingers. "Take care of Lorraine," she said, solemnly; then laughed at his telltale eyes, and leaned back on her husband's shoulder, still laughing.
The chaise lurched and jolted; Rickerl, unconscious still, fell in a limp heap, but Jack and Lorraine held him up and watched the horses, now galloping under slackened reins. "There are houses there! Look!" cried Grahame. "By Jove, there's a Luxembourg gendarme, too. I I believe we're in Luxembourg, Marche! Upon my soul, we are! See! There is a frontier post!"
"War was declared to-day at noon!" And always the burden of the busy voices was the same, menacing, incredulous, half-whispered, but always the same "War! war! war!" Booted and spurred, square-shouldered and muscular in his corded riding-suit, Rickerl passed the terrace again after the last adieux. The last?
Then far away a light report startled the sudden stillness; a dark spot, suspended in mid-air, began to fall, swiftly, more swiftly, dropping through the night between sky and earth. "You damned coward!" stammered Rickerl, pointing a shaking hand at Von Steyr. "God keep you when our sabres meet!" said Von Steyr, between his teeth. Rickerl burst into an angry laugh.
Molly Hesketh had wept a great deal at first. She wept still, but more moderately. "My angel child!" she said, taking Dorothy to her bosom. Grahame took off his hat. The old people hurried to Jack's room above; Dorothy, guided by Lorraine, hastened to Rickerl; Archibald Grahame looked genially at Molly and said: "Now don't, Lady Hesketh I beg you won't. Try to be cheerful.
"Leave me! I'll not hang, I tell you." "No." The franc-tireurs were running towards them. "They'll kill us both. Here they come!" "You stood by me " said Jack, in a faint voice. Rickerl looked him in the eyes, hesitated, and cried, "I surrender! Come on! Hurry, Jack for your sister's sake!"
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