“A hard task,” said John, with meaning.

“So it will be,” said Lieutenant Schmidt, taking his meaning differently, “but the harder the task the better we Germans love it.  And now, Castel, here comes your passport.  Its little winged words will bear you safely to the headquarters of General Osterweiler thirty miles to the north and east, and there you’ll have to get another passport, if you can. Auf wiedersehen, Jean Castel.  Your forefathers were French, but you are German, good German, and I wish you well.”

Lieutenant Schmidt’s cheeks were very red just then, not altogether with the cold, and his benevolence had extended to the whole world, including the French and English, whom he must fight regretfully.

“Oh,” said John, as an afterthought, although he was keenly noting his condition, “while I was wandering in the snow of the big storm, I heard from a sentinel that one of our great generals and beloved princes.  Prince Karl of Auersperg, had passed this way with his train.”

Perhaps if Lieutenant Schmidt had not taken so much good Munich beer after a long fast he might have become suspicious, because it was not the question that an ordinary peasant and cattle-herder would ask unless the previous conversation had led directly to it.  But as it was he fairly exuded trust and kindness.

“Not here,” he replied, “but at a point further toward the west and north.  So great a figure as Prince Karl of Auersperg could scarcely go by without our hearing of it.  Colonel Stratz himself spoke of it in my presence.”

“I saw him once in Metz before the war.  A grand and imposing figure.  Perhaps I shall behold him there again in a few days.”

“I think not.  It was said that the prince was going to his estates in the east.  At least, I think I heard something of the kind, but it probably means that he was on his way to the eastern frontier.  Prince Karl of Auersperg is not the man to withdraw from the war.”

John’s heart dropped suddenly.  Would he be compelled to follow the prince halfway across Europe.  Oh, why had he left the Hotel de l’Europe even for a moment?  With Picard’s help he might have been able to hold off Auersperg and his followers, or a lucky shot might have disposed of the prince.  He felt it no crime to have wished for such a chance.  But strengthening his heart anew he took up the burden that had grown heavier.

“Auf wiedersehen, Lieutenant Schmidt,” he said, and whistling softly to himself he began his passage through the German lines, showing his passport more than a dozen times before he passed the last trench and rifle pit, and was alone among the hills behind the German lines.  He might have reached the railroad and have gone by train to Metz, but he preferred, for the present at least, to cling to the country, even at the risk of much physical hardship and suffering.

He still carried his blankets, and he was traveling through a region which had been much fought over in the earlier stages of the war.  Since the German lines were still in France some peasants had returned to their homes, but many houses were yet abandoned, their owners probably thinking that the tide of battle would roll back upon them, and that it was better to wait.