Robert found no chance, however, and gave up hope of
saving the Count.
At last the day arrived when the Count's sentence was to be carried out.
Sleepless and sad, with his head resting on his hands, the Count sat in
his lonely cell. The warden had not considered it worth while to bring
him a light, and heavy darkness enveloped him. He thought of his wife
and his children. Not for himself did he suffer so much, but for those
who were so dear to him. He knew not where they were, and he was greatly
troubled about their condition.
While the noble Count sat lost in these thoughts, a loud shouting arose
in the corridors. Soldiers ran here and there, crying: "Save yourselves,
if you can. Fire! Fire!" This reached the Count's ears. All at once the
door of his cell was thrown wide open. Thick volumes of smoke and dust
poured in and dreadful flashes of light illumined his dark cell. A young
soldier stood before him, and cried: "Save yourself!"
Through the carelessness of a drunken servant, a fire had started in the
building. The soldiers had torn off their coats and weapons and had
hurried to put it out. Robert had seized the first opportunity that
afforded itself, had taken the clothing and weapons of a soldier, and
had hastened to the Count with them, saying to himself: "The only chance
to save him is to dress him as a soldier."
"Hurry, put on these clothes," said Robert. He helped the Count pull on
the coat, placed the hat on his head, buckled on his knapsack, and gave
him a musket.
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