Truxton King

Late that night it was reported at the Castle that a large force of men were encamped on the opposite side of the river. A hundred camp-fires were gleaming against the distant uplands.

"The Grand Duke Paulus!" exclaimed Count Halfont. "Thank God, he did not come a day earlier. We owe him nothing to-day--but yesterday! Ah, he could have demanded much of us. Send his messengers to me, Colonel Quinnox, as soon as they arrive in the morning. I will arise early. There is much to do in Graustark. Let there be no sluggards."

A mellow, smiling moon crept up over the hills, flooding the laud with a serene radiance. Once more the windows in the Castle gleamed brightly; low-voiced people strolled through the shattered balconies; others wandered about the vast halls, possessed by uncertain emotions, torn by the conflicting hands of joy and gloom. In a score of rooms wounded men were lying; in others there were dead heroes. At the barracks, standing dully against the distant shadows, there were many cots of suffering. And yet there was rejoicing, even among those who writhed in pain or bowed their heads in grief. Victory's wings were fanning the gloom away; conquest was painting an ever-widening streak of brightness across the dark, drear canvas of despair.

In one of the wrecked approaches to the terrace, surrounded by fragments of stone and confronted by ugly destruction, sat a young man and a slender girl. There were no lights near them; the shadows were black and forbidding. This particular end of the terrace had suffered most in the fierce rain of cannon-balls. So great was the devastation here that one attained the position held by the couple only by means of no little daring and at the risk of unkind falls. From where they sat they could see the long vista of lighted windows and yet could not themselves be seen.

His arm was about her; her head nestled securely against his shoulder and her slim hands were willing prisoners in one of his.

She was saying "Truxton, dear, I did not love Eric Vos Engo. I just thought it was love. I never really knew what love is until you came into my life. Then I knew the difference. That's what made it so hard. I had let him believe that I might care for him some day. And I did like him. So I--"

"You are sure--terribly sure--that I am the only man you ever really loved?" he interrupted.

She snuggled closer. "Haven't I just told you that I didn't know what it was until--well, until now?"

"You will never, never know how happy I am, Loraine!" he breathed into her ear.