This was true enough; but it left out of account the fact that, not long ago, Gerry had hoped himself some day to make “more of it”; and, later, he had not tried. Now, as he thought back he knew that Agnes had never loved him; and he had not loved her. This strange girl whom he had known at first as Cynthia, and then as Ruth Alden, had stirred in him not only doubts of the ideas by which he had lived; she had roused him to requirements of friendship--of love, let him admit it now--which he had not felt before. Their ride together away from Mirevaux, when he sat almost helpless and swaying at her side after she had saved his life, became to him the day of discovery of her and of himself. He could see her so clearly as her eyes blurred with tears when she told him about “1583;” and he knew that then he loved her. Their supper together at Compiègne became to him the happiest hour of his life. He had felt for her more strongly that evening of their last parting in the _pension_; but then the shadow of her great venture was over them. Everything which happened somehow reminded him of her. When he was out of the prison during the walks on parole and he passed groups of German civilians and overheard their remarks about America, he thought of her. The Germans were perfectly able to understand why France fought, and why England fought, and why Russia had fought; but why had America come in? Why was America making her tremendous effort? What was she to gain? Nothing--nothing material, that was. The enemy simply could not understand it except by imputing to America motives and aims which Gerry knew were not true. Thus from experience with the enemy he was beginning to appreciate that feeling which Ruth had possessed and tried to explain to him--feeling of the true nobility of his country. So, as he went on his walks in Germany, he was proud that his uniform marked him as an American. Prouder--yes, prouder than he could have been under any other coat! He had intended to tell her so; but now she was taken and in the hands of the Germans! They would execute her; perhaps already they had! From such terrors there was no relief but work--work in the tunnel, by which he must escape, and then save her, or die trying. A little more news arrived; the American girl was believed to be yet alive; that was four days ago. “We must work faster,” O’Malley enjoined after hearing this; and Gerry, who had not yet said anything about his private fears, learned that others in the camp also planned to rescue the American girl under sentence at the _schloss_. The camp--which in six months had not succeeded in getting one of their own number free--swore now to save the prisoner of von Fallenbosch. Such was the spirit of the _offizier-gefangenenlager_ of Villinstein. So Gerry told O’Malley and Lownes about Ruth Alden; and together they laid their plans. Two days later the Irishman grasped Gerry’s arm tightly. “We wait, bye, only for a moon.”