Walter gazed silently up to him. How strange it was! even this robust, thoroughly healthy nature, usually so unsusceptible to mental influences, at this moment seemed over-powered by a presentiment! Was it love for his master that gave him this instinct? He sought to guard himself against showing any weakness, he knew that the slightest token of weakness would quite rob the giant soldier before him of the little self-possession left him, and transform him into a sobbing child. "You are out of your senses!" he said half displeased, and with a faint attempt to laugh. "Is this the first time that I have gone into danger? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Frederic! I really believe you are weeping." Frederic did not answer, but he kept his clear-blue eyes fixed immovably on his master's face; at this moment, with a gift of introspection wonderfully enhanced, he saw that Fernow's glance did not accord with his words; he saw separation in it, and all subordination, all the military usage which for months long he had conscientiously observed, suddenly vanished; he saw before him only his professor whom he had so often nursed in illness, whom he had watched and guarded as a mother guards her child, who to him had been the one goal, the one object of life. He sobbed aloud, and a stream of tears gushed from his eyes. "Herr Professor," he cried piteously, "would to God I could be shot down instead of you! A calamity is to happen to-night; I know it. One of us will certainly fall." Walter smiled sadly and gently; he felt who this one would be; but the touching devotion of his servant in his parting hour, asserted its right. He now forgot all else, but not those long nights of illness during which Frederic had sat at his bedside, with a fidelity and self-renunciation he could never repay and never forget, and--in such a moment all arbitrary barriers fall, all chasms are bridged over--the officer threw his arms around his servant's neck and then warmly and affectionately pressed his hand. "Good-night, Frederic," he said softly, "Good-by! Whatever may happen to me, your future is provided for. Doctor Stephen has the requisite papers in his hands. And now--" he hastily drew himself up "now let me go, it must be!" Frederic obeyed. He hesitatingly let go the hand which he had held in both of his, and stepped back. Once again Walter waved him an adieu, and then hurried from the room. With bowed head, the poor fellow stole to a window. He saw enveloped in its military cloak the tall figure which, clearly defined in the moonlight, strode over the terrace; he heard the step grow fainter and fainter in the distance, until its last echo died away. Regretful tears gushed anew from his eyes; with incontestable certainty, he felt that he had seen his master for the last time. CHAPTER XXV. To the Rescue.