“What stratagem?” asked the Austrian and Feodor, simultaneously.

Gotzkowsky replied in a sorrowful tone to Feodor:  “Do not disguise yourself any longer, my son! you see it is useless.”  Then turning to the officer, he continued:  “We had hoped that he might escape detection in this Russian uniform, left here by the adjutant of General Sievers, who was formerly a prisoner of war in my house, but unfortunately the hat and cloak have betrayed him.”

Feodor von Brenda looked at Gotzkowsky with admiring wonder, and this rapidly invented ruse de guerre pleased him astonishingly.

It was a piquant adventure offered him by Gotzkowsky’s hate and cunning, and he did not feel inclined to throw away such an original and interesting chance of excitement.  He, the Russian colonel, and Count von Brenda, the favorite of the empress, degraded to a Prussian cannoneer, whose life was in danger!  His wilful and foolhardy imagination was pleased with the idea of playing the part of a criminal condemned to death.

“Well,” asked the Austrian officer, “do you acknowledge the truth of this statement, or do you deny being the cannoneer, Fritz?”

“Why should I deny it?” answered Feodor, shrugging his shoulders.  “This gentleman, who ought to have saved me, has already betrayed me.  I am the man whom you seek!”

With a scream of surprise, Elise threw herself toward her lover.

“No!” cried she, loudly, “no, he is—­”

Her father’s hand pressed heavily on her lips.  “Another word, and you are a murderess!” whispered he.

The officer looked suspiciously at them.  “You do not deny,” asked he of Feodor, “that you are he who directed such a murderous fire on our lines?  You do not deny that you are the artilleryman, Fritz, and that this cloak and hat belong to you?”

“I deny nothing!” replied Feodor, defiantly.

The officer called to some of his men and ordered them to shoulder arms, and take the prisoner in their midst; enjoining them to keep a sharp watch on him, and at the first attempt to escape, to shoot him down.  But when he demanded his sword of the colonel, the latter recoiled, shocked, and resisted.

He now became aware of his foolhardiness and rashness, and that he had not considered or foreseen the dangerous and perhaps dishonorable consequences.  However, as he had gone so far, he considered that it would be disgraceful and cowardly to retreat now.  He was also desirous of pursuing to the end this adventure which he had begun with so much boldness and daring.  He drew his sword, and with considerable strength breaking it in pieces, he threw them at the feet of the Austrian officer.

That officer shrugged his shoulders.  “Your insolence will only make your situation worse.  Remember, you are our prisoner.”

“He must and shall die!” shouted the soldiers, thronging around Feodor, angrily.

The officer ordered silence.  “He must die,” said he, “that is true; but we must first carry him to the general, to obtain the price offered for him.”