“My boy was frequently moved to tears by the humiliation of his position,” continued the count.  “You will understand me when I say that it is a bitter thing to be helpless in the hands of an insolent and remorseless enemy.  On arriving at Carlsruhe, however, his face, which had been wounded by the brutality of his guard, was bound up by a young Bavarian subaltern who was touched by his appearance.  I regret to see that your eye is bleeding so.  Will you permit me to bind it with my silk handkerchief?”

He leaned forward, but the German dashed his hand aside.

“I am in your power, you monster!” he cried; “I can endure your brutalities, but not your hypocrisy.”

The count shrugged his shoulders.

“I am taking things in their order, just as they occurred,” said he.  “I was under vow to tell it to the first German officer with whom I could talk tete-a-tete.  Let me see, I had got as far as the young Bavarian at Carlsruhe.  I regret extremely that you will not permit me to use such slight skill in surgery as I possess.  At Carlsruhe, my lad was shut up in the old caserne, where he remained for a fortnight.  The worst pang of his captivity was that some unmannerly curs in the garrison would taunt him with his position as he sat by his window in the evening.  That reminds me, captain, that you are not quite situated upon a bed of roses yourself, are you now?  You came to trap a wolf, my man, and now the beast has you down with his fangs in your throat.  A family man, too, I should judge, by that well-filled tunic.  Well, a widow the more will make little matter, and they do not usually remain widows long.  Get back into the chair, you dog!

“Well, to continue my story—­at the end of a fortnight my son and his friend escaped.  I need not trouble you with the dangers which they ran, or with the privations which they endured.  Suffice it that to disguise themselves they had to take the clothes of two peasants, whom they waylaid in a wood.  Hiding by day and travelling by night, they had got as far into France as Remilly, and were within a mile—­a single mile, captain—­of crossing the German lines when a patrol of Uhlans came right upon them.  Ah! it was hard, was it not, when they had come so far and were so near to safety?” The count blew a double call upon his whistle, and three hard-faced peasants entered the room.

“These must represent my Uhlans,” said he.  “Well, then, the captain in command, finding that these men were French soldiers in civilian dress within the German lines, proceeded to hang them without trial or ceremony.  I think, Jean, that the centre beam is the strongest.”

The unfortunate soldier was dragged from his chair to where a noosed rope had been flung over one of the huge oaken rafters which spanned the room.  The cord was slipped over his head, and he felt its harsh grip round his throat.  The three peasants seized the other end, and looked to the count for his orders.  The officer, pale, but firm, folded his arms and stared defiantly at the man who tortured him.