The antagonists were perfect swordsmen; the rapiers were now invisible, now like jets of light as the torchlight shot along them. Over the music of the steel, the wind in the pine-trees said "Hush!" and the barking of the fox still came from the far distance. At first you might have thought these two gentlemen were at play, till the fury subdued by science broke loose at last, and the rings and flashes of light and the clash of the steel spoke the language of the thing and the meaning of it. It was a duel to the death; and I, looking on, my soul on fire, agony in my heart, my hands thrust deep in the pockets of my caped overcoat, counted the bits of biscuit-crumbs in those same pockets, and made tiny balls from the fluff, and noted with deep and particular attention the extent of a hole in one of the linings. The interior of my overcoat-pockets marked itself upon my memory as sharply and insistently as the scene before me--such a strange thing is mind. Yet I knew that, if Von Lichtenberg was the conqueror, my father would die, and I would be left to the mercy of Von Lichtenberg. Yet, despite all my fears, oh, that heroic moment! The concentrated fury of the fight beneath the singing pines, lit by the blazing torches! Then, in a flash, it was over. Von Lichtenberg's sword flew from his hand; his arms flung out as though he were crucified on the air; and then, just as though he were a man of wax before a fiery furnace, he fell together horribly, and became a heap on the ground. The hammer of Thor could not have felled him more effectually than the rapier that had passed through his armpit like a ribbon of light. I ran to my father, and clung to him. General Hahn, on one knee, was supporting Von Lichtenberg in his arms. The Baron's face was clay-coloured, his head drooped forward, and his jaw hung loose. Hahn, with his knee in the armpit to suppress the terrible bleeding, called for a knife to rip the sleeve; and as they were doing it the stricken man came to and yawned. He yawned just as a man yawns who is deadly tired and half roused from sleep, and he tossed his arms just in the same way. He seemed to care about nothing, his weariness was so great. And then, just as a man speaks who is half roused and wants to drop asleep again: "Hahn." "I am here." "Ah, yes! I leave the child to your care and Gretel----" "Yes" "She is to be brought up just as I have done. Should she love him, the old tragedy will come again. She must never know love----" Then he yawned, and yawned, rousing slightly as they cut his sleeve to pieces in an attempt to reach the wound. He didn't seem to care. He spoke only once again: "Hahn!" "I am listening." The wind in the pine-trees, and the fox in the wood and the slobbering of the torches filled the silence. "I am listening." "He is dead," said Von der Goltz. CHAPTER XII WE RETURN HOME