led by necessity to run
the risk of taking a short rest.

The party seated themselves around a small fire. Sleep soon came to the
Duke's aid, and for awhile made him forget that he had again lost his
dukedom. The knight of Lichtenstein also slept. Maxx Stumpf von
Schweinsberg, resting his arms on his knees, concealed his face in both
hands, and it was uncertain whether he dosed, or whether he was
sorrowing over the fate of his unhappy master, which the day's battle
had so cruelly decided. Albert von Sturmfeder, though almost
overpowered with fatigue, resisted the power of sleep, and, being the
youngest of the party, volunteered to keep watch. Beside him sat his
faithful friend, the fifer of Hardt, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the
fire, and appeared to concentrate his thoughts in the words of a song,
whose melancholy strain he hummed to himself with a soft suppressed
voice. When the fire blazed up occasionally a little brisker, he cast a
sorrowful look at the Duke, to see if he still slept, and then
recommenced the same lamentable dirge.

"You are singing a very melancholy strain, Hans!" said Albert, whose
attention was excited by the peculiar tones of the song: "it sounds
like a death song or mourning dirge; I can't listen to it without
shuddering."

"Death may knock at every man's door at any moment," replied the fifer,
looking still more gloomily at the fire; "I like to occupy my mind upon
such subjects, for it often strikes me, I would prefer going out of
this world with similar thoughts in my mind."

"But how is it you think more upon death at this moment than at other
times, Hans? You were always a merry fellow at harvest time; and your
guitar never failed being heard at a wake. You certainly never sang a
death-song on such occasions."

"My happiness is gone," he answered, and pointed to the Duke; "all my
anxieties and troubles have been in vain. His star is set, and I----I
am his shadow; therefore nothing is left for me. If I had not a wife
and child, I would willingly die this very night."

"You were, indeed, his faithful shadow," said the young man, moved at
these words: "I have always admired your fidelity. Listen, Hans! it
will perhaps be some time before we see each other again; and having
now time and opportunity to converse together, tell me, if it be not
too much to ask, what has bound you so close and exclusively to the
fortunes of the Duke?"

The man was silent a few minutes, and trimmed the bu