passed out of the porch, and we supposed that he had betaken himself to the gardens, there to fight his battle. Old Sapt, having done his work, suddenly turned talkative.
"That moon there," he said, pointing his square thick forefinger at the window, "is a mighty untrustworthy lady. I’ve known her wake a villain's conscience before now."
"I've known her send a lover's to sleep," laughed young Bernenstein, rising from his table, stretching himself, and lighting a cigar.
"Aye, she’s apt to take a man out of what he is," pursued old Sapt. "Set a quiet man near her, and he dreams of battle; an ambitious fellow, after ten minutes of her, will ask nothing better than to muse all his life away. I don't trust her, Fritz; I wish the night were dark."
"What will she do to Rudolf Rassendyll?" I asked, falling in with the old fellow's whimsical mood.
"He will see the Queen's face in hers, cried Bernenstein.
"He may see God's," said Sapt; and he shook himself as though an unwelcome thought had found its way to his mind and lips.
A pause fell on us, born of the Colonel's last remark. We looked one another in the face. At last Sapt brought his hand down on the table with a bang.
"I'll not go back!" he said sullenly, almost fiercely.
