"And we are in his hands here!" said Nigel.
"To-morrow, think you, Tall Captain, if I took the air on horseback without the walls, the Swede not yet being come up, that you could mount a charger and meet me by chance three leagues distance. If there were no guards out we might perchance slip further still and make our way----"
"To Znaim! Sure Wallenstein would make you one of his new captains, and Znaim would be a veritable city of refuge!"
Nigel drew in his breath. "Stephanie, you have a godlike courage! To Wallenstein! And yet why not? He will want officers. Here I am on the list of the sick. There shall I be serving the Emperor! It is a bold plan, Stephanie, but we must venture all, or be forever cravens!"
"To-morrow! Nigel! Heaven send not the Swedes too soon to close the gates. At midday three leagues away by the road from the eastern gate!"
"And to-morrow if it see not our wedding shall see the eve of the bridal!" She took Nigel by both hands, dealing as tenderly as with any babe, and looked upon him with such a look of mystery and love and motherhood in her eyes as caught him up into heaven and left him entranced while one might count a hundred. Her look smote through his eyes and on to his very soul, and put her impress there as it had been the seal of the greatest Empire of all the world.
Then they kissed in solemn troth-plight, and the Archduchess went down the stair leaving the room a darkness, though it was still broad day.
Not for the first time in his military life did Nigel feel lonely. In this town of Ratisbon he had many military comrades, but no friend who would be as a wall against which he could set his back when it came to the grim push of steel against a half-ring of foemen. In bonnie Scotland, had he sought to carry off a king's daughter, he could have raised a sturdy dare-all troop of kinsfolk, men of his blood and name, who would have broken down the West Port, scaled the crags of Edinburgh Castle, risking their necks and their lands in a desperate endeavour to win the guerdon for him of his heart's desire. And desperate though it might be, with the king's daughter willing, what Scottish noble would not have made the essay with a light heart? And here in Ratisbon was no one on whom he might rely for a stout arm and a reckless generosity of service.