From the hills came the relentless groaning which he knew was the sound of the guns, fighting one another under the searchlights.
Then he heard the clatter of hoofs, and another company of Uhlans rode up to the chateau.

Their leader dismounted and entered the great gate.
John recognized von Boehlen, who had taken off his helmet to let the cool air blow upon his close-cropped head.

He stood on the graveled walk for a few minutes directly in a flood of silver rays, every feature showing clearly.

He had been arrogant and domineering, but John liked him far better than Auersperg.

His cruelty would be the cruelty of battle, and there might be a streak of sentimentalism hidden under the stiff and harsh German manner, like a vein of gold in rock.