Count Adolphus saw it, and also saw the light suddenly eclipsed by a shadow; then flame forth again.  He saw the shadow, but did not suspect that it bore any relationship to his person or movements.  He only continued to look toward the castle, and to think of the past, taking farewell of his memories, farewell of the dreams of his youth!  He thought of the insult put upon him that dreadful night when he had been mocked and deceived by her whom he loved, and he vowed vengeance for the tortures endured by him that night!

“Forward, Waldow, forward!” He took his friend’s arm, and they pressed on.  The shadow behind them advanced when they advanced and stopped when they stood still.  Through the pleasure garden the pair proceeded with hurried steps, through the gate at the castle moat they entered upon the Willow-bank suburb, then down the deserted little streets of wretched huts.  They reached the great Willow-bank meadow without the walls, passing through a gate not far from the bridge over the Spree.

“Wallenrodt, are you here?” whispered Schwarzenberg.

“Yes, count, I am here.”

The tramp of horse’s hoofs, the voices of men speaking in whispers.

“Colonel von Rochow expects your grace.  The whole fortress is at your service.  He will defend you to the last man, and would rather blow the whole fortress into the air than surrender you to the enemy.”

“Yes, better be blown up by gunpowder, than fall into an enemy’s hands!” cries the count, vaulting with glad heart into the saddle.

“Are you ready, my friends?”

“Yes, we are ready.”

The count gave the word of command, “Forward!” and grasped tighter his horse’s reins.

“Halt! halt!” called a loud voice, and the shadow which had crept behind them now changed into the form of a tall and powerful man, who sprang through the gate and seized the count’s horse by the bridle.

“Back!” shouted Adolphus Schwarzenberg furiously.

“Halt! halt!” cried the other.  “You shall not escape.  In the name of Colonel von Burgsdorf I arrest you, Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg.”

“Who are you, poor man, who are you who dares to oppose me?”

“I am the police master Brandt.  I arrest you in the name of the Stadtholder in the Mark!”

“Wretched traitor!  You swore fidelity to my father, and have now become the tool of his enemies.  Hands off!  It will cost you your life!  Back!”

“No, I will not leave you, I arrest you.  You must stay here!”

“Let us make an end of this, count,” shouted von Waldow “The night is so pitch-dark that we can not distinguish friend from foe, else I would have shot him long ago.”

“For the last time, hands off my horse, or I shall shoot you.”

“For the last time.  Yield peaceably, or I shall shoot you.  Living or dead I must keep you, I have—­”