he inmates of the
palace, were first aroused by the yelling and singing of the students.
They rushed out of the guard room and came running to the gates, which
they opened. The body of a man rolled inside. They stopped and examined
him; the uniform was theirs. The face they looked into was that of the
handsome young foreigner who, that day, had gone forth from the city, a
gay and gallant figure, who sat his horse so well that he earned their
admiration. What could this mean? And where were the others? Had there
been a desperate battle?

"Run back to the guard room, one of you, and fetch some brandy. He
lives." And Lieutenant Scharfenstein took his hand from the insensible
man's heart. Pulsation was there, but weak and intermittent. "Sergeant,
take ten men and clear the square. If they refuse to leave, kill! Madame
is not yet queen by any means."

The men scattered. One soon returned with the brandy. Scharfenstein
moistened the wounded man's lips and placed his palm under the nose.
Shortly Maurice opened his eyes, his half-delirious eyes.

"To the palace!" he said, "to the palace--Ah!" He saw the faces staring
down at him. He struggled. Instinctively they all stood back. What
seemed incredible to them, he got to his knees, from his knees to his
feet, and propped himself against a gate post. "Your life or mine!"
he cried. "Come on; a man can die but once!" He lunged, and again they
retreated. He laughed. "It was a good fight!" He reeled off toward the
palace steps. They did not hinder him, but they followed, expecting
each moment to see him fall. But, he fell not. One by one he mounted
the steps, steadying himself with the saber. He gained the landing, once
more steadied himself, and vanished into the palace.

"He is out of his head!" cried Scharfenstein, rushing up the steps. "God
knows what has happened!"

He was in time to see Maurice lurch into the arms of Captain von Mitter,
who had barred the way to the private apartments.

"Carewe!... What has happened? God's name, you are soaked in blood!" Von
Mitter held Maurice at arm's length. "A battle?"

"Aye, a battle; one man is dead and another soon will be!" A transient
lucidity beamed in Maurice's eyes. "We were betrayed by the native
troops; they ran to meet Madame.... Marshal Kampf, Prince Frederick, and
the cuirassiers are prisoners.... I escaped. Beauvais, gave chase....
Wanted to kill me.... He gave me this. I ran him through the throat....
Knew him in South