"But
I can't wish that your country may be victorious because my mother,
after all, was a Russian."
"I wouldn't ask that of you," said Ernst, with a laugh. "Even though it
is Prince Suvaroff's country, too?"
"There are Germans you do not like, I suppose--who are even your
enemies," said Fred. "Yet now you will forget all that, will you not?"
"God helping us, yes!" said Ernst. "You are right. Your heart must be
with your own. But you don't seem like a Russian, or I would not be
helping you."
Then Fred was off, going on his way into the darkness alone. Ernst had
told him which road to follow, telling him that if he stuck to it he
would not be likely to run into any troop movements.
"Don't see too much. That is a good rule for one who is in a country at
war," he had advised. "If you know nothing, you cannot tell the enemy
anything useful, and there will be less reason for our people to make
trouble for you. Your only real danger lies in being taken for a spy.
And if you are careful not to learn things, that will not be a very
great one."
Fred was not at all afraid, as a matter of fact, as he set out. Before
he had stepped across the mark that stood for the border he had been
hugely depressed.
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