On Guard.

'At what time shall we order the carriage?' the liveried servant was asked, who open ed the door.

' x\t 1 o'clock,' was tho answer,

Meanwhile the ladies wrapped in their cloaks, their heads bare or covered with a light veil, passed with their silken slippers along tlio carpet that was laid across the sidewalk. Tho governor of the fortress, Gen. yon Eronwiichter. was giving the first ball of the season. The front of the great gloomy official building was brilliantly lighted; torches were burning in the street; and two policomen kept apart the gaping crowd, so that the guests could pass unhindered through the open door, before which two grenadiers stood on guard, shouldering or presenting arms according to the rank of each new arrival. Carriage after crrriage rolled up ; aud there were many pedestrians, al most without exception in uniform. In the broad vestibule the young officers handed their cloaks to their hervants, and ordered them for the proper hour, and thenpassedon up the broadcarpetod flower decorated stair-way, looked once more at their dress in the great mirrors, and finally advanced with ceremonious bearing, carry ing their helmets under the left arm. In the first apartment, where the brightly-lighted suites of rooms extended on either hand, stood the governor, a tall, stately man, withjthick, short gray hair, aud a blonde beard. An abundant collec tion of high orders glistened on his breast. He received his guests with the extreme* cordiality. Each might have imagined that he had been especally invited, and that he was especially—indeed almost exclusively—welcome; in fact, it pften seemed as though tho old man wn3 even surprised afehaving thehappinessof receiv ing this or that gentleman or lady. ; Still there were differences : sometimes only one hand was extended —sometimes the offered hand was grasped between both those of the host; a significant look a quick nod, was indicative of much. The host, at other times a strict^ man, was always in the social and delighted mood when he entertained company, and his extreme friendliness was by no means a mere appearance or deception; with it all, he had tho consciousness that he represented tho chief porsouago of the state, and that therefore it was his duty to be condescending. Besides, like many j elderly officers, he greatly resembled the reigning sovereign ; and ho increased this resemblanco still futhor by accurately imitating the lattor's style of woaring his beard.

Beside the governor stood his only daughter, Gabrielle, and greeted the guests with as much courtesy as dignity—the more remarkable considering her youth. If the ancient Greeks had known the type of tho soldier's daughter, they would have made a modle of it; for the type has a peculiarity not easy to describe. It consists not only in an erect bearing and in caso of movement but also in a certain security of expression and manner, an accuracy of formality which nevertheless has an ulomcnt of careless coraradery and obvious appropriateness. These pecu liarities evidently have their origin in the confidence and certainly that attend liv ing in a limited circle, carefully graduated according to rank; among a class that, unlike all others, has made its ranks even outwardly recognizable in their various grades. Besides all this, however, Ga brielle was already doing the honors of the house for the third winter since she left the young ladies' seminary. Her fair head, with its blonde locks, its blue eyes, finely cut lips, and clearly chiseled features rested upon a beautifully rounded neck and bust ; she wore no jewelry ; she was simply dressed in white, with a red sash, and the movements of her figure were graceful and refined. 'Fraulein, may I have the honor of being put down for a dance ?' asked a young lieutenant with brown hair and brilliant brown eyes.

'Certainly. Will you write your name ? The German, if you will.' Only a slight glance from tho young man seemed to say—how very circum spect this littlo conversation was ! He wrote his name simply ' Hauensteiu,' for that he was a Ist lieutenant was as well known us that he was Baron yon Hauen stein. He retired, a gleam of joy passing over his bright young face, that soon' gave place to an expression of serious thought. He heard it said here and there how much it was to be regretted that this would be the last ball for a long time tbat w rould be graced by the bright pres ence of the governor's daughter—for it had been decided that she should become a maid-of-honor to the queen, whose first lady-in-waiting, the Countess Truben, was the sister of her dead mother.

The dancing began; the band was stationed behind an ivy-covered lattice in a neighboring room; nobody saw how the musicians toiled, only the merry dancing tunes were heard. Hauenstein passed by the most famous beauties, surrounded by their admirers as by a swarm of bees, without trying his fortune further. He put his dancing card in his breast-pocket— ho had nothing further to trouble about. He roamed about the rooms, pausing here and there before a painting, a statue, or somo other work of art; and at last he sat down in the rotunda, and turned over the leaves of an album that lay before him.

'So idle ?' said some one to him. He rose quickly and greeted the major of his regiment, explaining that he hardly felt in the humor for dancing, that evening.

' Yes, yes. I can understand it,' replied the major. ' I read it in the paper, to day, myself. It's painful—cruel, that's true. He was an abstinatc revolutionist, to be sure ; but after all there was a cer tain nobility—something distinguished— about him. Do you know whether he had any parents or near relations ?' ' Only a sister, but as far as I know she lives in France.' ' Did he tell you that himself?' * Yes.' ' He wanted to go to France, too ?' ' He didn't tell me anything ©f that; and I never asked him about anything which he didn't refer to of his own accord.'

The major laid his hand on Hauenstein's shoulder, saying : ' It isn't a good thing— or rather it is a good thing—that it's out of our line to trouble ourselves about the prisoners, or to enter into any relations with them, The officer of the guard is only to support the prison warden. We are not obliged to think what kind of material there may be keot in the build ing—whether ammunition or human beings. But come up into the smoking room ; there'll be some fun to be had here.' They went up into the next story; and here there was quite another scene. In the billiard-room, whore lively play was going on, group, of men wore sitting along the walls or at round tables. They were smoking and drinking; and the major beckoned to Hauenstein to set with him at a table whero several officers were already seated —among them the colonel of the regiment. They were talking of promotions, transfers, the new target practice —and now and then of various love-affairs. Just then an officer ex claimed :—■

' Ah, Hauenstein! You knew the Polo that's talked of to-day in the newspapers. I remember you told mo of him—'

' The major knew him, too.' 'But you delivered him up,' insisted tho other,

' Indeed ?' asked the colonel. How was that ?' Tell us the matter in detail.'

' You know,' Hauenstein began, ' that that the man —he was only 2J years old —had taken part in the revolution at tho capital, and had been sentenced to confinement in a fortress. He had an unusually lino voice; but when he first came he only sang at night, when he was allowed no light. He was afterward permitted to have one, on account of some application that I know nothing about.' ' Yes,' interrupted the major, ' I was commissioned to act in the matter, and so came into communication with tho pri soner. But pray go on.' 'He was allowed to study military works ; and, one day, when I was on guard, I fell into conversation with him, and found him a highly-cultured, im aginative man, but unfortunately sadly astray in regard to fixed convictions. Of course I soon gave up the attempt to convert him, for tbat was neither my place nor was I capable of it. He frankly confessed to mo that ho was educating himself in his loneliness to be a military leader; for he was determined, as soon as that which he termed ' freedom' called him to put himself at the head of tho revolutionary army. I requested him not to telle of this, and he courteously begged my pardon. I got him some music, too —after I had asked permission. He liked to read musical scores. He was not permitted to have any instrument, though he often petitioned for one ; but music, a common neutral ground, gave rise to many pleasant relations and discussions between us—-for he held that Germans and Italians were not made for political life, because they were more musical than anything else.' ' Strange!' interrupted the colonel. ' But go on —ho interests me greatly.'

Hauenstein continued : —■

'Thus, in the course of the year, a friend ly relation gradually grew up between us, so that the young man assured mo in ex travagant language of his gratitude to me, and vowed to visit me, the very hour that he secured his freedom. I made no an swer, but gave orders that if he should be announced he should bo told I was no at home. During the last six weeks he made marks upon the wall, and every day erased one; every one so obliterated brought the time nearer when his prison should open. I was in charge of the guard at the citadel, when, at 8 o'clock, the young Pole was to be released. Sud denly, at 5 o'clock, I was awakened; the superintendent of polico of the town was there, and with him two strangers. He gave me an order from the ministry, to deliver the young prisoner to these two men. I did not know what it meant —but I must say that it was a bitter task. I led the men into his cell; and when his eyes fell upon them he cried out in a pier cing voice : 'Those are my executioners ! And that you, of all men, should bo com pelled to give mo up to them! But no reproach rests upon you —I ask ypur par don.' I turned away; and tho two men walked behind him; while two soldiers with loaded muskets led the prisoner away between them. He did not look back—and—'

Hauenstein paused and drew a long breath;he felt that he had not borne himself in that strict military fashion to ward his superior which must not be for gotten even at a ball or in the midst of social excitement. He went on there fore :—

' What followed you have read in to day's paper. As the young man was car ried across the .Russian frontier he sought to escape, and was cut to pieces.'

*Itis a pity,' said the major; 'ho was as you have said, of a noble nature, in spite of—' ' Herr yon Hauenstein,' cried an ensign, approaching hastily, ' Fraulein yon Kronwatcher sends word that the cotillon is beginning.'

Hauenstein rose quickly and went down into the ball-room. Fortunately, he still arrived in ..time, for only the pre parations were in progress. * Why have you not danced all this time ?' asked Gabrielle.

' I was resting, to be so much the fresh er,' replied Hauenstein, collecting him self; and with Gabrielle he began to lead the dance. It was clear that several bright and merry figures had been agreed upon between them beforehand. Elderly ladies, sitting in raised arm-chairs along the walls, conversed together, and agreed unanimously that Hauenstein enjoyed special favor. It was true he was oi'good family, but wretchedly poor; Gabrielle seemed to prefer him; but it would be 'ridiculous beyond measure if he should imagine he could carry off the child just because the governor permitted him to play duets with her. One of the ladies, on whose sharply-marked features former beauty and present ambition were strong ly stamped, said, with a smile that challenged further social slander : 'It will be very beneficial for Fraulein Ga rielle to spend a while at court, to learn to keep in proper subordination. It is very dangerous for such a child to have her own way without contradiction in so greatja bouse, and Gabrielle has by nature her share of strength of will—which perhaps, borders on obstinacy.'

__so one answered her. Inthe mean time the young people asked nothing of the future—they seemed happy in the present. But still Gabrielle asked, during a pause: 'It seems to me thore is an irrepressible melancholy in your face, to-day. Cannot you tell me what troubles you ?' ' Not here —not now ! But I can say this much —it does not concern me personally.' ' Very well—then drive it out of your thoughts.'

And the yonng man seemed to succeed. As her last partner, Hauenstein received the favor of encourtng Gabrielle to supper. Tho table had been set in the ball-room, and the neighbouring apartments, as though by enchantment, after the last dance. Hauenstein sat by Gabrielle. She excused herself a moment, laid her large bouquet upon her chair, and said: 'As hostess, I am bound to look about and see that all is right.' She went, and Hauenstein gazed thoughtfully at the empty ahair and the flowers. Gabrielle returned and said:—

' You have that melancholy look again. Cannot you tell me what disturbes you ?' 'It is inappropriate here. Wo are so merry here that one can't believe there is anything sad in the world. And why shall we let it in? B"sides I need all my energy. I must go on guard at the citadel at 6 in the morning.' ' Is that so difficult ?' ' Not that.'

' Then it is something else that troubles you. Tell me, candidly ; can I help you, perhaps ? do something to lesson your gloomy mood ? If I can help, then tell me ; if not, forgot it now, and tell it to me another time.'

'You cannot help. I can tell you nothing. Yet you are right —away with all sadness ! Life is so bright! Let us drink to the wish that we may always find life as beautiful as now.' They touched their glasses. Tho ball was over. As cloaks were put on, one guest said to another that there had seldom heen so pleasant an evening ; and this appeared more conspicuously in the tone of sincerity with which all thank ed tho governor and his daughter. When Hauenstein took his leave, nothing further was said between him and Gabrielle. He only laid his hand, as he turned away, upon a May-flower fastened in his uniform. She had taken it from her bouquet and given it to him. In the street some comrades called to him : ' Hauenstein, come along. We're going over to the casino. Nordeck has lost three dozen of champagne on a bet. Come on!'

Haueustein excused himself; he was tired, and had to go on guard in the morn ing. Several of his comrades called after him : 'We are coming to look you up, to morrow evening, for a game of whisfc. Have a bowl of punch for us.' 11. It was a cold, wet autumn morning when Hauenstein marched up the hill with his company : for the citadel stood upon a hill in the midst of the .town. The battlements and casemates concealed the size of the inclosed plain, and the buildings erected on it. A considerable, number of prisoners were confined here —only a few because of duels, for the year in which this true story had its course was 1850 ; most of them had been condemned for political offences. Hauenstein relieved his comrade and his company, and had the list of prisoners brought to him. He looked long at a name that had been crossed off; but throwing back his head, he said to himself: ' The major was right—we must not ask what the material is—whether we are guarding munitions of war or human lives.'

Hauenstein was tired; and, after he had made rounds, he lay down upon the bench. He ordered the sergeant not to wake him if he fell asleep—the sergeant himself could see that everything was in order, But fye had hardly lain down

when he was suddenly awakened again. The keeper of the prison stood before him, and begged for assistance. • What is the matter ? Has a prisoner escaped P' ' Oh, no. But I don't know what to do further, and I promised the prisoner to bring you to him.' ' I have nothing to do with him.' ' That is what I told him, but tho man will do himself some injury if we don't quiet him; and his fate is such a sad one !' 'Who is it?' ' Numbor five.' Hauenstein looked at tho list. It was a former law-copyist from a neighboring village. Hauenstein dressed quickly, and went into the man's cell.

' Lieutencnt,' cried a man with a gray beard and harsh features, ' I shall go mad or die if you do not help me !' ' What is it ? What is the matter ?'

* I havo received a letter; my wife is on her death-bed. She calls unceasingly for me with her waning strength. Lieu tenant, I swear to you by the last that remains to me, by what I hold most sacred, by my respect for myself and for the truth, that I will be back by ten o'clock! Let me go out. Let me give my sorely-tried wife her last consolation.' ' You know what awaits me if I let you * I know it. And therefore I swear to you I will not be guilty of the most terribie thing on carth —and that most terrible thing would be that you should never believe in any human being again— I will not be guilty of it, though I perish. And therefore I implore you, let me free these few hours. At the precise minute I will be back again ! Lieutenant, you are my master, but you are also a son! You have a father—a mother ! There, the smoke rises—yonder—you can see it. Ah, if you could also hear the cry of dis tress that a dying woman sends up there— a loving wife! May it be a thousand fold repaid you sometime when you call such a loving wife your own! When you stand at the altar, an invisible bless ing will fall upon you! Think of nothing now but that you have a heart! I im plore you, and a dying woman cri9S to you with me!' * I will send the commandant a report at once.' ' That would ba to late.' ' I will send an escort with you.' ' That would betray you at once. 0 lieutenant! you feel my cruel case. Have the courage to believe a man ; your faith shall be justified! A desperate man cries to you—a dying woman cries with him ! Let me go for a few hours.'

' Good ; let it be so. Spend no further strength in words; you need all your powers. Give me your hand.' ' Here is my hand. Every word that I couid add would be a sin. My hand tells you all; and now not a moment more ; every moment may be the last.' The man was set free, and Hauenstein turned back into the guard-room. He did not meditate long over what had happened; he was soldier enough not to agitate himself over a step that had once been taken. He had acted on the im pulse of tho moment; the thing was over; and all further scruple was super fluous. He tried to sleep; he did not find it easy ; but at last youth and fatigue conquered. He was awakened ; it struck 10. ' Has the man from number five come back?' •No.'

' Go out and see if ho is not coming up the road. But come back at once.'

The orderly went out; but he came back directly, and announced that there was nothing to be seen. ' Go out again and look about ; I will come directly.' Hauenstein dressed himself, put on his saber, and went on to the drawbridge. One could see far out into the country and he had his glass, but he saw nothing. But yes—now he sees something! There comes the colonel, riding upon horseback, and behind him the orderly. The heated countenance of the young man grew stormy, and ke said to himself, ' It's all over with you now.' The colonel comes nearer and nearer ; he stops on the bridge, and asks: ' Why are you here ?'

' Colonel, I have committed a fault—a grave one.' And Hauenstein briefly stated what he had done.

' What has induced you to commit so grave an error? You know the cou seqences. I cannot be lenient with you. No longer ago then yesterday I remarked that you were not without sympathy for certain criminals. Go before me. Do you not hear me ? Go on, I will follow you.'

Jlauenstein went before him with bowed head; the soldiers fell in; the colonel dismounted; Hauenstein was relieved ; and inside, in the guard-room, he was made to give up his dagger and saber, and was put under arrest in the very cell where once the Pole had been confined. 'Hauenstein sat still and heavy hearted in his call, and his first thought was not of his own suffering, but of Gabriell's. How it will rend her heart! Yet it must be borne. What an im measurable gulf lies between to-day and yesterday ! And how is it possible that the man who spoke so movingly can be so treacherous ? Yes, it is true ; the men who would destroy the state, to whom no oath is sacred, who cannot keep faith with the great whole, how should they do so with the individual ? And the man said, 'I shall be responsible for it if you never believe in a man again!' Ridiculous! It

waseasyforhim to bear thaTS^>. With the bitterness of it all a W*? remorse and reproach of conscience 2? 0t upon the young man's breast. S suddenly he cried aloud:— ' You, too are a revolutiot.est x -''1 havo preverted and broken the hw fi cause you believe yourself justified l -t You have sought to shake the rock ; order-now it rol s down upon crushes you. And now it will runf mouth to mouth through tho .._*..■^ and the best they will say of it S?1 ' A pity about Hauenstein, that he i y be cashiered. He was a good soldier Ij had every expectation of getting into'S - general staff. But inwardly, y?u see 7 was m sympathy with the revolutionists' At the moment when Hauenstein J sitting in his cell, everything washing mood m the governor's house forty morning after a successful f<_te alwavsh. something especially pleasant about it and, owing to the numerous and welj trained servants, there was no trace ia thi rooms of the festivities on the night befor 1 The breakfast-room was comfortably arranged, and showed the .esthetic taste of the daughter of the house. A brieht open fire was burning in the fireplace and the bouquets of yesterday stood in'bo green "vases of Venetian glass upon thi table. As her father entered and greeted Gabrielle heartily, she said: 'It must have made you happy to fi66 how brightly and harmoniously the even ing passed. I believe the people who told us they had had a pleisanfc time. Bnt why do you look sogloomy ?,' . ' I 'I think you ought to have told me you should dance the cotillon with !_[s__. tenant Hauenstein, I remarked it and many others did, it seemed to me, Vhv did you do it ?' "■.;../ ' Why ? He is the best dancer in the garrison, and you like; him, too. Ton have often told me how good a comrade his father was.' * Yes, that is all very well, and there is nothing improper about it;but, aslsaid, it was conspicuous.' ' Conspicuous ?'

'Yes. You are my good, wise little girl; and I am no tryant of a father. I will only tell you that now you are going out into the world, and it would give me great pain if you were to do anything that you would perhaps repent hereafter. I should wish that no thought of yours should be given to another, but that yon should give your whole, full soul to him to whom you will, some day, belong: For your own sake, therefore, I wish that, before you learn to know the world and the world knows you, you should give no one any cause to hope. And in saving no one, my. child, remember I mean toun derstand yourself also. You see, do you not ?' -

Gabrielle assented silently. The governor did not press her for an answer, He knew in how true a spirit his child received every reminder of duty. The servant brought in several letters on a waiter. The governor took one up and said : " That is from Aunt Truben ; it is for you, Gabrielle.'

He gave her the letter, and Gabrielle opened and read it, while her father glanced hurriedly through those addresed to him. He laid the letters down, and asked : ' What does your aunt say ? tell me the main points of it.'

' She writes,' answered Gabrielle: "The princess was much pleased with your photograph, and finds you very like your deceased mother. JNowshe only wishes to see a letter form you that she may have a photograph of your mind as well. But I have none that I can show her. So write me What purports to be a letter, entirely addressed to me, but containing nothing that is unnecessary for the prin cess to know.' What shall I write ?' asked Gabrielle.

' Describe yesterday's ball. But write entirely without constraint; that is always the best way." While the governor was lighting his cigar, an orderly was announced. 'let him come in.'

Gabrielle went quickly out. . A young ensign entered the room, and announced what had happened. 'How is this possible ?' said the governor, half to him' self. How could he do it ? The thing lies utterly outside his power. The ensign carefully refrained from maing any reply until he was directly addressed ; and now the governor turned to him and said : 'Good! Go, now, and say I will come myself. He is already arrested?' ■

' Subject to your orders, sir,' The ensign went out, and the governor ordered his horse saddled. He did not hesitate long as to whether he should teU Gabrielle. He had her called, and said to her : ' Ist Lieutenant yon Hauenstein has violated the orders of the service most flagrantly. He will be court-martialed. He paused; Gabrielle did not flinch; she asked in a firm voice : * What has he done ?' . The governor told her briefly,andaddea: ' He will be sentenced to death, but he will not be shot.' . ' That, then, was what he had in wm and that is why he was so sad,' she cried; ' and how could he say that I could not help him ? I could have prevented him-"" he should have told me. And how cquld he so ruin our lite—so carelessly—so use lessly ?' The governor would have said , 'I»ear, my warning has come too late, even now, but he repressed it, and only said: 'Itl*, well, Gabrielle, that I am the only jOS* that hears that from your lips; audit

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