words--yes?"

Willibald raised his eyes slowly and looked at the speaker. "You are
right, Fraulein. Toni must hear everything the whole truth. I had
already decided on that before I came here; but it will be a hard hour
for me."

"Oh, surely not," said Marietta, encouragingly. "Toni is good and full
of trust. She will believe your word and my word, that we are both
innocent in this affair."

"But I am not without guilt--at least toward my bride-elect," declared
Willibald, earnestly. "Do not look at me in such affright. You must
hear it later, anyway, and it is perhaps better that I tell you myself.
I am going to Furstenstein only to ask Toni"--he stopped short and drew
a deep breath--"to give me back my troth."

"For heaven's sake, why?" cried the young girl, horrified at this
explanation.

"Why? Because it would be wrong should I offer Toni my hand and
stand with her at the altar, with my heart as it is now. Because
only now do I see what the principal thing is for betrothal and
marriage--because----" He did not finish, but his eyes spoke so plainly
that Marietta fully understood the rest.

Her face suddenly colored crimson. She drew back and made a violently
repellent gesture.

"Herr von Eschenhagen, be silent; do not speak another word."

"But it is not my fault," Willibald continued, in spite of the command.
"I have struggled manfully and tried truly to keep my promise during
the whole time I was at Burgsdorf. I believed it would be possible; but
then I came here and saw you again in 'Arivana' on that evening, and
knew that the struggle had been in vain. I had not forgotten you,
Fraulein Marietta--not for an hour--as often as I had tried to make
myself believe it, and I shall not forget you all my life long. I shall
confess this to Toni openly, and shall also tell my mother when I
return to her."

The confession was made. The young lord, who could not manage the first
proposal at Furstenstein alone, but had to be helped by his mother, now
spoke as warmly and heartily--as openly and as truly--as a man must
speak in such an hour. He had learned it suddenly, and with the
helplessness which he shook off with such decision, there seemed to
fall off, too, all his awkwardness and ridiculous manner.

He quickly approached Marietta, who had fled to the window, and his
firm voice grew unsteady as he continued: "And now one question. You
looked so pale when you opened the door for me, and your eyes spoke of
tears. The affair may have been painful and mortifying to you; I can
understand that, but did you also fear a little for my welfare?"

No answer, but low sobs.

"Did you fear for me? Only a little 'yes,' Marietta. You have no idea
how happy you would make me."

He bent low over the young girl, who now slowly raised the small, bowed
head. In her dark eyes there glowed a spark as of secret happiness. The
answer was almost inaudible.

"I? Ach, I have almost _died_ of fear these last two days."

Willibald gave a joyful exclamation and drew her to his breast; but
only for a moment, then she struggled from his embrace.

"No--not now. Go now, please."

He released her at once and stepped back.

"You are right, Marietta; not yet. But, after I have freed myself, I
shall come again and ask for another 'yes.' Farewell."

He hastened away before Marietta had scarce recovered control of
herself. She was aroused by the voice of Fraulein Berger, who,
unnoticed by the two, had stood upon the threshold of the adjoining
room for several moments, and who now approached in a state of horror.

"Child, for mercy's sake, what does it mean? Do you not consider----"

The young girl did not let her finish, but threw both arms around her
neck and wept passionately.

"Ah, now I know why I was so enraged at the time he suffered his mother
to insult me. It hurt me so inexpressibly to believe him a coward; I
have loved him from the first."

                            CHAPTER XXXVII.

In the house of the Prussian Ambassador everything was in a state of
preparation for the winter festivities. When Wallmoden had entered his
present position, in the spring, society was already scattered in all
directions for the summer, and immediately afterward occurred the sad
event which had put an end to all festivities for them. These causes,
however, were done with now.

The many halls and apartments of the Ambassador's palace had been
furnished with such splendor as Herbert's circumstances, made brilliant
by his marriage, permitted; and it was his intention to have as
magnificent a home as was possible to obtain. Their first grand
reception was to take place next week, and in the meantime numerous
calls were being made and returned.

The Ambassador was also much occupied with his official duties,
and, besides, there was one thing which ruined his peace of mind
completely--the success of Arivana. If he had had doubts before about
opposing Rojanow's publicity, it had now become quite impossible. The
"adventurer" was raised upon the shield and his poetical spirit was
being praised everywhere. The Court and society generally could not be
forced now to drop him without subjecting themselves to mortification,
and it was questionable, besides, if they would drop him at all, since
only hints and vague remarks could be given. That grand success had
made Hartmut almost unapproachable.

To add to the embarrassment of the Ambassador's position, Falkenried's
arrival was expected in the near future, from whom the truth could not
be kept, for fear he should hear it from outsiders.

The Colonel, of whose present trip nothing was known when Wallmoden had
seen him in Berlin a short time ago, would be here in a few days and
would make his headquarters at the Ambassador's palace, since he was no
stranger to Adelaide. She and her brother had, in a measure, grown up
under his eyes.

When, ten years ago, the then Major Falkenried had been removed to the
distant province, he had been stationed at a post in the small town
lying in the immediate vicinity of the great Stahlberg works and
dependent almost entirely upon them. The new Major was considered an
excellent soldier, but a pronounced man-hater, who enjoyed his duties
only, occupying all his spare time with military studies, and who hated
everything that came under the head of society.

As he was alone, he was excused from keeping an open house, and he
exhibited himself only at houses where his position imperatively
demanded it. Such consideration had to be shown the great manufacturer,
who was the leader of the whole vicinity, and who received and
entertained as guests the first and highest personages.

Stahlberg had been the only one whom the military man approached.
Although the grave and gloomy reticence of the Major excluded real
friendship, yet the two men felt the highest esteem for each other, and
the Stahlberg home was the only place where Falkenried appeared
occasionally of his own free will.

He had had intercourse there for years and seen the two children grow
up. Therefore Wallmoden was the more offended that Falkenried did not
attend his wedding, but excused himself through pressure of official
duties.

Adelaide knew little or nothing about the life of the Colonel. She
considered him childless and heard only from her husband that he had
been married early in life, but had been separated from his wife and
was now a widower.

It was about a week after the return of the Wallmodens that
Falkenried's arrival was announced to the young wife as she sat one day
at her writing table. She threw aside her pen, arose quickly and
hastened to her friend.

"You are heartily welcome, Colonel Falkenried. We received your
telegram, and Herbert intended to meet you at the depot, but just at
this hour he has an audience with the Duke, and is still at the palace,
so we could only send the carriage."

Her greeting had all the cordiality which an old friend of her father's
could wish, but Falkenried's response was not of a like kind. Coldly
and seriously he accepted the offered hand and the invitation to be
seated, as he thanked her for her welcome.

The Colonel had indeed changed, so much as scarcely to be recognized.
Were it not for the tall, muscular form and strong, firm carriage, one
could have taken him for an old man. His hair--the hair of a man barely
fifty years old--was white as snow, the brow furrowed deeply, and sharp
lines were buried in the face, making it look ten years older. The
features, once so expressive, appeared fixed and immovable now; the
entire appearance and bearing bespoke stern, impenetrable reticence.

Regine's words, "The man is turned to stone," were only too true. One
involuntarily gained the impression that he had become a total stranger
to the world, and that all mankind had died off for aught that moved
him--nothing was left except the duties of his vocation.

"Perhaps I have disturbed you, Ada," he said, using her old home name
as he glanced at the writing table where lay a half-finished letter.

"There is plenty of time for that," replied the young wife, lightly. "I
was only writing to Eugene."

"Ah? I am the bearer of love from your brother. I saw him the day
before yesterday."

"I knew that he intended going to Berlin and to see you. He has not
seen you for nearly two years now, and I, too, saw but little of you
during our journey through Berlin. We hoped you would come to
Burgsdorf, where we stayed for a few days, and I believe that Regine
felt very hurt that you did not accept her invitation for this time,
either."

The Colonel looked to the floor; he knew why he avoided Burgsdorf and
its reminiscences. He had hardly been there twice since his return to
the Capital.

"Regine knows how economical I have to be with my time," he replied,
evasively. "But, to return to your brother, Ada; I should like to speak
to you, and therefore I am glad to find you alone. What is the
difficulty between Eugene and his brother-in-law? Has something
happened to alienate them?"

A certain embarrassment was visible in Adelaide's face at the question,
but she answered lightly:

"Nothing especial; the two are not very congenial."

"Not very congenial? Wallmoden is nearly forty years his senior, and
his guardian besides. Your brother will not be of age for several
years. In such case the younger one must submit unconditionally."

"Certainly; but Eugene, although as good as gold, is only too often
rash and passionate as he has always been."

"Alas, so he is. He will have to change considerably if he wishes to
fill, half as well as his father did, the important and responsible
position which awaits him. But something else seems to be the trouble
here. I made a casual remark about your marriage, Ada--which event, to
tell the truth, surprised me, although I am on friendly terms with your
husband--and said that I had not thought you had so much ambition; but
at this Eugene burst out and defended you in the most passionate
manner, and spoke of a sacrifice which his sister had made for him. In
short, he allowed himself to be carried away into words and hints which
surprised me in the highest degree."

"You should not have paid any attention to it," said Adelaide, with
visible emotion. "A young, hot head takes everything tragically. What
did he tell you?"

"In fact, nothing definite. He seems to have given you his word to keep
silent and not speak without your permission; but he seems to almost
hate his brother-in-law. What does all this mean?"

The young wife was silent; the conversation seemed painful to her in
the highest degree.

Falkenried looked at her searchingly as he continued: "You know it is
not my way to inquire into the secrets of others. I take but little
interest in the doings of people around me, but my friend's honor comes
into consideration here; those remarks contain a crimination. Of
course, I could not allow that, but when I remonstrated with your
brother and threatened to speak to Wallmoden about it, he said: 'My
Herr brother-in-law will explain the affair diplomatically to you. He
has proved a very diplomat in it all. Ask Ada if you wish to learn the
truth.' I ask you first, therefore; but if you cannot and will not
answer, then I must speak to your husband, from whom I cannot keep such
remarks."

He spoke in a cold and measured tone, without any excitement. The
affair, apparently, caused him no interest whatever. He considered it
necessary to take it up solely because a point of honor came in
question.

"Do not speak to Herbert about it, I beg of you," interrupted Adelaide,
quickly. "I shall have to explain to you, since Eugene allowed himself
to be carried away so far; but he has taken the matter too hard from
the beginning. There is nothing dishonorable about it."

"I hope so, since Wallmoden is concerned," said the Colonel, with
emphasis.

                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.

The young Baroness lowered her voice and evaded the eyes of her
listener as she commenced.

"You know that my engagement happened a year ago at Florence. My father
was even then very ailing, and the physicians desired that he should
remain in Italy during the winter. We went to Florence, intending to
stay two months, and then make further plans according to the wish of
the invalid. My brother had accompanied us, but was to return home at
the beginning of winter.

"We took a villa outside the city, and, of course, lived quite secluded.
Eugene saw Italy for the first time, and it was so mournful for him to
sit day after day in the lonely sick room, that I seconded his request
to go to Rome for a short time. He finally received permission. Oh, if
I had never done it! But I could not know how deeply his inexperience
would involve him then."

"That means that he followed up adventures, although his father was at
death's door."

"Do not judge so harshly. My brother was scarcely twenty years old
then, and had always lived under the eyes of a loving but very strict
father. The short freedom proved dangerous to him. The young German,
who had no knowledge of the world whatever, was enticed into circles
where high--and as it was afterward proved--false gambling was the
order of the day, and where a number of bad, but outwardly charming,
elements met. Eugene, in his ignorance, did not understand it, and lost
heavily, until suddenly the party was raided by the police. The
Italians defended themselves, and it ended in a fight, into which
Eugene, too, was drawn. He only defended himself, but he had the
misfortune to injure a policeman severely, and was arrested with the
others."

The Colonel had listened silently, with impassive face, and his voice
was as harsh as before as he said: "And Stahlberg had to live to see
this of his son, who had been a model until then?"

"He never heard of it; it was only a momentary losing of one's self--a
case of one misled, rather than guilty, and it will not happen again.
Eugene has given me his word of honor for that."

Falkenried laughed so scornfully that his companion looked at him in
consternation.

"His word of honor! Yes, why not? That is given as easily as it is
broken. Are you truly so trusting as to believe in the word of such a
young lad?"

"Yes, that I am," asserted Adelaide, in an injured tone, while her
eyes, earnest and reproachful, met the gaze of the man whose awful
bitterness she could not explain. "I know my brother. In spite of this
escapade, he is the son of his father, and he will keep his word to me
and to himself--I know it."

"It is well for you if you can still believe and trust. I have long
forgotten how," said Falkenried, in a low but milder tone. "And what
happened then?"

"My brother succeeded in being allowed to send me word immediately.
'Keep it from father, it would be his death,' he wrote. I knew better
than he did that our desperately ill father could not stand such news.
But we were alone in a foreign country, without friends or
acquaintances, and help had to be had instantly. In this extremity I
thought of Herr von Wallmoden, who at the time was at the embassy at
Florence. We had known him slightly before, and he had called directly
after our arrival and placed himself at our command, should we need the
help of the Ambassador. He had come to our house frequently, and now
hastened to me immediately upon receiving my request. I told him all,
and trusted him, beseeching his advice and help--and received it."

"At what price?" demanded the Colonel, with darkly contracted brows.

Adelaide shook her head.

"No, no; it is not as you think--as Eugene also believed. I was not
forced. Herbert gave me free choice, although he did not hide from me
that the occurrence was much worse than I feared; that those sums lost
in play must, nevertheless, be paid if one wished to keep the affair
from publicity; that, in spite of all, it might get into the courts, on
account of the injury to the policeman. He explained to me that he
might be brought into a wrong light if he mixed himself up in such
affairs. 'You desire me to save your brother,' said he; 'perhaps I can
do it, but I jeopardize my position--my whole future thereby. One
makes such a sacrifice, perhaps, only for his own brother, or--his
brother-in-law."

Falkenried arose suddenly and took a turn through the room. Then he
stood still before the young wife and said, in angry tones: "And you,
of course, believed that in your anxiety?"

"Do you mean that it was not so?" asked Adelaide, startled.

He shrugged his shoulders with a half-contemptuous expression.

"Possibly. I do not know these diplomatic reasons. I know only one
thing; Wallmoden has, indeed, proved himself a great diplomat in the
whole affair. What did you answer him?"

"I asked for time to think, everything had burst so upon me. But I
knew, that no moment was to be lost, and that same evening I gave
Herbert the right to act--for his brother-in-law."

"Of course," muttered the Colonel, with deep disdain; "the wise, shrewd
Herbert!"

"He obtained leave of absence immediately, and went to Rome," continued
the young Baroness, "returning in a week, accompanied by my brother. He
had succeeded in freeing Eugene and withdrawing him from the whole
affair. Even the newspapers did not mention the name of the young
German who had been involved in it. I do not know by what means it was
done. If one has powerful friends and does not need to spare money,
much is possible. Herbert had spent money lavishly on all sides and had
brought into use every advantage made possible to him through his long
years of diplomatic work. He also cancelled the gambling debts,
although with his own bond. He told me later that he had given half his
fortune for that purpose."

"It was very magnanimous, since by this sacrifice he won a cool
million. And what did Eugene say to this--trade?"

"He knew nothing of it, and soon returned to Germany, as had been
decided at first. From that time Herbert came to our house daily and
knew how to prepossess my sick father so well, that father finally felt
a desire for the union himself. Only then did Herbert begin his wooing.
I was grateful to him for giving it this turn, only Eugene was not
deceived. He guessed everything, and forced the truth from me. Since
then he has tortured himself with self-reproach and almost feels
hostility toward his brother-in-law, in spite of my repeated assurance
that I have never had cause to rue that step, and that I have in
Herbert the most attentive and considerate husband."

Falkenried's eyes rested intently upon the face of the young wife, as
if he wished to read her most secret thoughts.

"Are you happy?" he asked, slowly.

"I am content."

"That is much in this life," said the Colonel in the old, harsh tone.
"We were not born to be happy. I have done you wrong, Ada. I believed
the splendor of a high position, the desire to play a first rôle in
society as wife of the Ambassador, had made you Frau von Wallmoden,
but--I am glad that t judged you wrongly."

He stretched forth his hand. Some expression was now in the icy gaze
and an apology in the grasp of the hand.

"You know everything now," concluded Adelaide, with a deep breath, "and
I beg that you will not touch upon the subject before Herbert. You see,
there was nothing dishonorable in his dealings. I repeat to you that he
used neither force nor persuasion. I was forced only by the power of
circumstances. I could not expect that he would make such sacrifices
for a stranger."

"If a lady had sought me in such anxiety, I would have made the
sacrifices--unconditionally," declared Falkenried.

"Yes, you! I would have followed you also with a lighter heart."

The avowal betrayed, unconsciously, how hard had been the struggle
which the young wife had not mentioned by a word. But she spoke the
truth.

She would much rather have given herself to the gloomy, reticent man,
with his harsh and often offensive manner, if the sacrifice had to be
made, than to the ever polite and attentive husband, who, in the face
of her extremity--had traded with it.

"You would have had a hard lot then, Ada," said the Colonel, with a
grave shake of the head. "I am one of the men who cannot give or
receive anything more in this life. I have finished with it long ago.
But you are right; it is better to let that subject remain untouched
between Wallmoden and me, for if I wished to tell him my true opinion
about it--well, he will always be a diplomat."

Adelaide arose, breaking off the conversation, and tried to assume a
lighter tone.

"And now let me take you to your rooms at last. You must be exhausted
by the long trip."

"No, a single night's journey will not tire a soldier. Duty makes
harsher demands than that on us."

He drew himself up straight and firm; one could see that his physical
strength was yet unbroken. Those muscles and sinews seemed like steel.
It was the features alone that bore the mark of age.

The eyes of the Baroness lingered upon them thoughtfully, especially
upon the brow which was so deeply and heavily furrowed and yet was
formed so high and powerful under the white hair.

It seemed to her as if she had seen that brow somewhere else, under
dark locks; but there could not be a sharper contrast than between this
too early aged, care-lined face and that youthful head with the
foreign, southern beauty and the uncanny light in the eyes. Yet it had
been the same brow over which the lightnings had flamed on that lonely
forest height; the same high, powerful curve; even the blue veins which
were so pronounced at the temples--a strange, incomprehensible
likeness!

                             CHAPTER XXXIX.

After some hours the two friends were alone together in Wallmoden's
study. The latter had just made the unavoidable as well as painful
disclosure. He had told the Colonel under what circumstances Rojanow
was in the city, and had unveiled to him uncompromisingly everything he
knew of Hartmut's life and that of his mother, finally informing him of
her death.

He had feared this hour, but the result was quite different from what
he had expected. Mutely Falkenried leaned against the window with
folded arms and listened to the long explanations, without interrupting
by a word or gesture. His face remained cold and impassive; no quiver,
no motion betrayed that he heard those things which must bring anguish
to his heart. He was now also "a man of stone."

"I believed I owed these explanations to you," concluded the Ambassador
finally. "If I have kept what I knew of the fate of the two from you so
long, it was done solely that you might not be tortured unnecessarily
with what was hard enough for you to overcome. But you had to learn now
what has happened, and how matters stand at present."

The Colonel retained his position and his voice betrayed no mental
excitement as he replied:

"I thank you for your good will, but you could have spared yourself
these explanations. What is that adventurer to me?"

Wallmoden looked up amazed; he had not expected such a response.

"I thought it necessary to prepare you for the possibility of meeting
him," he returned. "As you have heard, Rojanow now plays an important
rôle; he is celebrated everywhere. The Duke is deeply wrapped up in
him. You might meet him at the castle."

"And what then? I do not know anybody by the name of Rojanow, and he
will not dare to know me. We should pass each other as strangers."

The Ambassador's gaze rested searchingly upon Falkenried's features as
if to fathom this real coldness or incomprehensible self-command.

"I thought you would receive the news of the reappearance of your son
very differently," he said, half aloud.

For the first time he intentionally used this title; hitherto he had
merely said Rojanow. But now, for the first time also, an emotion was
visible in the calm figure at the window. But it was an emotion of
anger.

"I have no son--remember that, Wallmoden. He died to me that night at
Burgsdorf, and the dead do not rise."

Wallmoden was silent; the Colonel approached him and laid his hand
heavily upon his arm.

"You said just now that it was your duty to enlighten the Duke, and
that you had not done so solely out of consideration for me. I
have, indeed, but one thing to guard in the world--the honor of my
name--which, through that exposition, would be at the mercy of the
world's raillery and scorn. Do what you think you must do--I shall not
hinder you. But--I shall also do what I have to do."

His voice sounded as cold as before, but it contained something so
awful that the Ambassador started up in affright.

"Falkenried, for heaven's sake, what do you mean? How am I to interpret
those words?"

"As you like. You diplomats define honor differently at times from us.
I am very one-sided about it."

"I shall keep silence inviolably, I pledge you my word," assured
Wallmoden, who did not understand the last bitter hint, for he had no
idea of Adelaide's confession. "I had decided on that before you came;
the name of Falkenried shall not be sacrificed by me."

"Enough, and now no more of it. You have prepared the Duke for what I
bring?" asked Falkenried, passing on to an entirely different subject
after a short pause. "What has he to say to it?"

Here again was the old iron, unbending will, which put aside all
questioning; but the sudden change seemed to be acceptable to the
Ambassador. He was, here as well as elsewhere, the wise diplomat who
dreaded nothing so much as public exposure, and who would never have
thought of exposing Hartmut, had he not feared that by a possible
leaking out of the truth later and of his knowledge of it, it might be
counted against him. Now, in the worst case, he could cover himself
with the promise he had given the father. Even the Duke must
acknowledge that he--Wallmoden--had had to spare his friend. The shrewd
Herbert knew how to calculate here, too.

The stay of Colonel Falkenried was only of short duration, and during
the time he had no rest. Audience with the Duke--conferences with high
military dignitaries, communications with his own embassy--all were
crowded within a few days.

Wallmoden was hardly less occupied, until finally everything was
settled. The Ambassador, and especially Colonel Falkenried, had reason
to be satisfied with the results, for everything had been successful
that was expected and desired by their government, and they could be
sure of the highest appreciation at home.

Only the most nearly connected circles knew that something important
was going on, and even in these circles only a few knew the full
importance of the conferences. Scarcely anything was noticed in public,
which, therefore, occupied itself only the more with its present
favorite, the poet of Arivana, whose incomprehensible behavior made him
so much more interesting in the Residenz.

Almost immediately after that brilliant triumph of his work he had
withdrawn from all praise and homage, and had gone into "forest
solitude," as Prince Adelsberg laughingly informed all questioners.
Where this solitude was, nobody learned. Egon assured them that he had
given his word not to betray the place of his friend's seclusion, for
he needed rest after all his excitement, but would return in a few
days. Nobody knew that Hartmut was at Rodeck.

                           *   *   *   *   *

Within the week, one cold winter morning, the carriage of Herr von
Wallmoden stood at his palace door. It seemed to be preparing for a
long excursion, for servants were carrying furs and travelling rugs to
it, while upstairs in the room where they had just breakfasted, the
Ambassador was taking leave of Colonel Falkenried.

"Until to-morrow evening, _auf wiedersehen_," he was saying as he shook
hands. "We shall be back by that time without fail, and you will surely
remain a few days longer?"

"Yes, since the Duke wishes it so particularly," answered the Colonel.
"I have so reported it to Berlin, and my report left on the same train
that carried yours."

"Yes, I believe they will be satisfied with these reports; but it
has been a hot time. We had no rest all those days. Now, fortunately,
everything is arranged, and I can afford to absent myself for
twenty-four hours to drive to Ostwalden with Adelaide."

"Ostwalden is the name of your new country home? I remember that you
spoke of it yesterday. Where is it situated?"

"About two miles from Furstenstein. Schonan drew my attention to it
while we were with him and I looked at the place at that time. It is
rather an extensive possession in the famous Wald, beautifully
situated, but the price was too high at first, which has delayed the
settlement. We have but now come to a final understanding."

"I believe Ada is not quite satisfied with your selection. She seems to
have something against the vicinity of Furstenstein," interrupted
Falkenried, but the Ambassador only shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

"A caprice, nothing more. At first Adelaide was quite delighted with
Ostwalden, but later she raised all sorts of objections--but I cannot
pay any attention to that. I shall probably remain there for
considerable periods, as I no longer like to travel far in the summer.
A country seat which is only four hours removed from town is therefore
of great value to me. The castle itself is in rather a dilapidated
condition at present, but something can be made of it. With appropriate
changes and additions it can be made a really superb residence, and I
intend doing that. I shall therefore look it over carefully, so that
the plans can be finished as soon as possible. I have not been there as
yet since I bought it."

He made his statements with much evident satisfaction over his plans.
Herbert von Wallmoden, who had originally possessed only a limited
fortune, and was compelled to expend it with great care, had suddenly
found it necessary to buy a sumptuous place in town, where he lived
only temporarily, and to have a princely villa for his summer
residence. But he did not find it necessary to consider the wishes
of his wife, whose wealth made it possible to him to play the great
land-owner.

Falkenried may have had such ideas while listening, but he did not
speak of them. He had turned graver and stonier, if possible, in the
last few days, and if he really asked a question or made a remark
during the conversation, one could see it was but mechanical, and
because he had to say something.

Only when Adelaide entered, perfectly equipped for the journey, he
arose promptly and offered his arm to lead her to the carriage. He
lifted her in, and Wallmoden, who followed her, leaned once more from
the carriage door. "We shall assuredly return to-morrow. Au revoir."

Falkenried bowed and stepped back; It was indifferent to him whether he
saw the friend of his youth again. This, too, had lost its interest;
but when he ascended the steps, he murmured half aloud; "Poor Ada, she
deserved a better fate!"

                              CHAPTER XL.

In the meanwhile everything pursued its usual course at Furstenstein.
Willibald had been there a week. He had arrived two days later than had
been expected, but the injury to his hand was the cause of that.
According to his explanation it had happened through his own
carelessness, and the hand was already rapidly getting well.

The Chief Forester found that his future son-in-law had changed much
for the better during the short intervening time of his absence, and
that he had become much more earnest and decided; and he remarked to
his daughter with the highest satisfaction: "I believe that Willy is
only now commencing to be human. One notices directly when his lady
mamma is not standing commandingly at his side."

But Herr von Schonan did not have much time at his disposal to notice
the engaged couple, as he was at present overwhelmed with official
duties. The Duke had ordered several changes in the forest government
to be made according to the suggestions of the Chief Forester, who was
now zealously occupied in executing all of them.

He saw and heard daily that Antonie and Willy were on the best terms,
so he left them mostly to themselves.

Meanwhile in the house of the doctor at Waldhofen care and anxiety had
made their appearance. The sickness of the doctor, which at first had
given no cause for fear, suddenly took a dangerous turn, which was
augmented greatly by the age of the patient. He had called persistently
for his granddaughter, and she had been telegraphed for. She had at
once obtained leave of absence--her rôle in Arivana was filled by
another--and she hastened without delay to Waldhofen.

Antonie showed a touching fidelity to her friend at this time. Day
after day found her at the home of the Volkmars to console and cheer
Marietta, who clung to her grandfather with her whole soul.

Willibald seemed to be likewise necessary at these consolations, for he
accompanied Toni regularly, and the Chief Forester thought it quite
natural that "the poor little thing" was being consoled and helped to
the best of their ability, more especially as she had suffered so
unmerited an insult in his house, for which he could not to this day
forgive his sister-in-law.

Finally, after three long, sorrowful days and nights, the doctor's
strong constitution conquered; the danger was passed, and hopes of a
full recovery were entertained.

Herr von Schonan, who was cordially attached to the doctor, was
heartily glad of it, and so everything seemed to have come into the
best of order.

But threatening weather arose from the north. Without a word of warning
Frau von Eschenhagen suddenly appeared at Furstenstein. She had not
taken time to stop in town where her brother lived, but came directly
from Burgsdorf, and burst like a hurricane upon her brother-in-law, who
sat in his room very comfortably reading the paper.

"All good spirits--is it you, Regine?" he cried, amazed. "This is what
I call a surprise; you ought to have sent us word."

"Where is Willibald?" demanded Regine in a dangerous tone, by way of
answer. "Is he at Furstenstein?"

"Of course, where else should he be? I believe he has announced his
arrival here to you."

"Let him be called--immediately."

"But what is the matter?" asked Schonan, noticing now for the first
time his sister-in-law's excitement. "Is there a fire at Burgsdorf,
or what? I cannot call Willy to you this moment, for he is at
Waldhofen----"

"Probably at Dr. Volkmar's--and she is probably there, too."

"Who is 'she'? Toni has, of course, gone with him. They visit that poor
little thing daily--Marietta--who was quite despairing at first. I must
speak a word with you on this point, Regine. How could you offend the
dear girl so deeply, and in my house besides? I only heard of it
afterward, or----"

A loud, angry laugh interrupted him. Frau von Eschenhagen had thrown
hat and cloak upon a chair and now drew close to her brother-in-law.

"Are you to reproach me because I tried to avert the evil which you
have brought upon yourself? Of course you have always been blind and
would never listen to my warnings--now it is too late."

"I believe you are not in your right mind, Regine," said the Forester,
who really did not know what to think of it all. "Will you be so kind
as to tell me what you mean?"

Regine drew forth a newspaper and handed it to him, pointing with her
finger to a paragraph.

"Read!"

Schonan obeyed, and now his face also grew red in angry surprise. The
article, which was dated from the South German Residenz, read as
follows:

"We have just learned that a duel with pistols took place last Monday,
very early in the morning, in a remote part of our park. The opponents
were a well-known resident, Count W--, and a young North German
landowner, W--v. E--, who is visiting his relative here--a high and
distinguished diplomat. The cause of the duel is reported to be a
member of our Court Theatre, a young singer who bears the best of
reputations. Count W-- was injured in the shoulder. Herr v. E-- carried
off a slight wound in the hand, and departed immediately."

"Thunder and lightning!" burst forth the Chief Forester, violently.
"The betrothed of my Toni has a duel for Marietta's sake! So this is
the cause of the injured hand which he brought with him! This is
charming, indeed! What else do you know about it, Regine? My paper did
not notice it."

"But mine did; it was copied from one of your papers, as you see. I
read it yesterday and hastened here at once. I did not even stop to see
Herbert, who cannot have known anything about it, or he would have
notified me."

"Herbert will be here at noon," said Schonan, throwing the paper
angrily upon the table. "He is at Ostwalden with Adelaide, and has
written that he will return by Furstenstein and stop over a few hours.
Perhaps he is coming on this account, but that does not change anything
in the matter. Has that boy--that Willibald--gone crazy?"

"Yes, that he has," assented Frau von Eschenhagen in like anger. "You
made fun of me, Moritz, when I exhorted you not to let your child
associate with an actress. Indeed, I had no idea that matters could
take such a turn until the moment I discovered that Willy--that my
son--was in love with Marietta Volkmar. I snatched him instantly from
the danger and returned to Burgsdorf. This was the reason of our sudden
departure, which I kept from you, because I considered Willy's
condition as a passing fancy. The boy seemed to have returned to his
senses completely. I would not otherwise have permitted him this
journey; and to be surer still, I placed him under the protection of my
brother. He cannot have been more than three or four days in town, and
now we must live to see this!"

Quite exhausted, she threw herself into an arm-chair. The Chief
Forester began to stride about the room vehemently. "And this is not
the worst yet," he cried. "The worst is the farce which the boy is
playing with his betrothed here. My child goes to Waldhofen day after
day, consoling and helping wherever she can, and the Herr Willy always
runs along, and uses the opportunity as a rendezvous. That is too
outrageous! You have raised something nice in that son, Regine."

"Do you think I make excuses for him?" demanded Regine. "He shall
answer to us both--I have come for that. He shall learn to know me."

She lifted her hand as if making a vow, and Schonan, who was still
racing through the room, repeated angrily: "Yes, he shall learn to know
us."

Then and there the door opened, and the betrayed bride-elect entered
into this wild excitement--calm and serene as usual, and saying in the
most innocent way: "I have just heard of your arrival, dear aunt; you
are very welcome."

She received no answer, but from both sides instead sounded the
question: "Where is Willibald?"

"He will be here directly; he has gone to the castle gardener for a few
moments, as he did not know of his mother's arrival."

"To the gardener! Perhaps to get roses as before," burst forth Frau von
Eschenhagen; but the Chief Forester opened his arms and cried in
pathetic tones:

"My child! my poor betrayed child! Come to me come into your father's
arms."

He attempted to draw his daughter to his heart, but Regine came upon
the other side and also attempted to draw her to her breast, crying out
in just as pathetic tones: "Compose yourself, Toni. An awful blow
confronts you, but you must bear it. You must show your betrothed that
he and his betrayal are an abomination to your deepest soul."

This stormy sympathy was rather startling, but fortunately Antonie had
strong nerves. So she freed herself from the double embrace, stepped
back, and said with calm decision: "I do not think it so. I begin only
now to really like Willy."

"So much the worse," said Schonan. "Poor child, you do not know yet;
you have no idea of anything! Your betrothed has had a duel for
another's sake."

"I know that, papa."

"For Marietta's sake," explained Frau von Eschenhagen.

"I know it, dear aunt."

"But he loves Marietta!" cried both in accord.

"I know that, too," replied Toni, with superior mien. "I have known it
for a week."

The effect of this explanation was so crushing that the two furious
people became silent and looked at each other in consternation. Toni
continued with imperturbable composure:

"Willy told me everything directly upon his arrival. He spoke so
beautifully and truly that I wept with emotion. At the same time a
letter arrived from Marietta, in which she begged my pardon, and that
was still more touching. So nothing was left to me but to give back to
Willy his promise and freedom."

"Without asking us?" exclaimed Regine.

"The asking would not have been of any use here," said Toni, calmly,
"for I could not marry a man who tells me that he loves another. We
have therefore quietly dissolved our engagement."

"So? And I learn it only now? You have become very independent
suddenly," cried her father angrily.

"Willy intended to speak to you the next day, papa, but he could not
have remained here any longer after such an explanation, and just then
occurred the serious illness of Dr. Volkmar and Marietta's arrival. She
was in despair poor Marietta! and Willy's heart almost broke at the
thought of leaving her alone in this anxiety and of going away without
knowing what turn the illness would take; so I proposed to him to keep
quiet for the present, until the danger should be past; but I went with
him to Waldhofen daily, so that he could see and console Marietta. They
have been so grateful to me--those two. They have called me the
guardian angel of their love."

The young lady seemed to find this very touching, too, for she carried
her handkerchief to her eyes.

Frau von Eschenhagen stood stiff and rigid as a statue, but Schonan
folded his hands and said with a resigned sigh: "May God bless your
kindness, my child! but such a thing has never happened before. And you
have arranged the affair very smoothly, I must confess. You have sat
and looked quietly on while your betrothed made love to another girl."

Antonie shook her head impatiently. Apparently she liked the rôle of
guardian angel, and found her position one she could fill without any
great exertion, since her affection for her betrothed had always been a
very cool one.

"There was no sign of love-making, as the doctor was too seriously
ill," she returned. "Marietta cried incessantly and we had plenty to do
to console her. Now you see and understand that I am not at all
betrayed, and that Willy has acted openly and honestly. I asked him
myself to be silent to you, and, in fact, the matter concerns us
only----"

"Do you think so? It is therefore of no concern to us?" interrupted the
Chief Forester furiously.

"No, papa. Willy is of the opinion that we need not mind our parents in
this matter at all."

"What does Willibald mean?" demanded Frau von Eschenhagen, who regained
her speech at this unheard-of assertion.

"That each must love the other before marrying, and he is right,"
declared Toni, with unusual vivacity. "It was not in our engagement at
all--in fact, we were not even consulted--but I shall not permit it
another time. I see now what it means for two people to love each other
with all their heart, and how remarkably Willy has changed through it.
I, too, want to be loved as Marietta is loved, and if I do not find a
man who loves me exactly like that--then I shall not marry at all."

And after this remark Fraulein Antonie walked out of the room with much
decision and a highly elevated head, leaving father and aunt in an
indescribable condition.

The Chief Forester was the first to regain composure, but suppressed
vexation was still in his voice as he turned to his sister-in-law and
said: "Your boy has managed nicely, I must confess, Regine. Now Toni
wants to be loved also, and begins to get romantic ideas in her head,
and Willy seems to be far gone already in that respect. I actually
believe he has managed to make this second proposal by himself."

Frau von Eschenhagen paid no attention to this bitter hint of her
interference at the former time. Her face bore an expression which
promised nothing good.

"You seem to look upon this affair from a comic standpoint," she said.
"I take it differently."

"That will not help you any," returned Schonan. "When such a model son
commences to rebel, the affair is usually hopeless, especially when he
is in love. But I am curious to know how Willy behaves himself as a
lover--it must be a remarkable sight!"

                              CHAPTER XLI.

Herr von Schonan's curiosity was to be immediately satisfied, for Willy
now appeared. He had heard of the arrival of his mother and was
therefore prepared for anything, for that there must be something
especial to bring her to Furstenstein so unexpectedly, he knew. But the
young lord did not shrink back this time as he did two months ago, when
he timidly concealed the rose in his pocket. His bearing betrayed that
he was determined to take up the unavoidable contest.

"Here is your mother, Willy," commenced the Chief Forester. "I suppose
you are very much surprised to see her here?"

"No, uncle, I am not," was the answer, but the young man made no
attempt to approach his mother, for she stood there like a threatening
storm cloud, and her voice rumbled like distant thunder as she said:
"So you know why I have come?"

"I at least guess it, mamma, even if I cannot understand how you have
heard----"

"The papers have told all--there it lies," interrupted Frau von
Eschenhagen, pointing to the table, "and, besides, Toni has told us
everything--do you hear? everything!"

She pronounced this last word in an annihilating tone. Willy was not
moved from his composure, but replied tranquilly:

"Well, I shall not have to tell you, then. I should have spoken to
uncle to-day about it."

This was too much. The storm cloud burst now with thunder and
lightning; it loaded and discharged with such vehemence over the head
of the young lord that really nothing seemed left for him to do but to
disappear quickly under the ground, which could not bear a person of
his kind any longer.

But he did not disappear; he only bowed his head to the storm, and when
it finally subsided--for Frau Regine had necessarily to draw breath
some time--he drew himself up and said: "Mamma, please let me talk."

"You want to talk? that is remarkable," declared Schonan, who was not
used to such efforts from his daughter's betrothed; but Willibald
actually began, hesitatingly and uncertainly at first, but he gradually
acquired firmness in speech and bearing.

"I am sorry that I have to offend you, but it could not be helped. I am
just as innocent about the duel as Marietta is. She was being followed
by an impertinent fellow persistently. I protected her and chastised
the offender, who sent me a challenge, which I never could nor would
decline. I have to beg Toni's pardon alone for loving Marietta, and I
did that immediately upon my arrival. She heard everything and gave me
back my pledge. Indeed, we have broken our engagement much more
independently than we formed it."

"Oh, ho, is that meant for us?" cried the Forester angrily. "We did not
force you--both of you could have said no if you had wished."

"Well, we do that now as a supplement," returned Willibald, so quickly
that Schonan looked at him amazed. "Toni came to the same conclusion
that custom alone is not sufficient for marriage, and if one has
learned to know happiness, one wants to possess it also."

Fran von Eschenhagen, who had not yet quite regained her breath,
started at these words as if bitten by a snake. It had never entered
her mind that a second engagement would follow the first, now broken.
She had never contemplated this most awful of possibilities.

"Possess it," she repeated. "What do you wish to possess? Does that
mean perhaps that you want to marry this Marietta--this creature----"

"Mamma, I beg you to speak in a different tone of my future wife," her
son interrupted her, so gravely and decidedly that the angry mother
stopped indeed. "Toni has given me freedom; therefore there is no wrong
in my love for Marietta, and Marietta's reputation is blameless--I am
convinced of that. Whoever hurts or offends her has to answer to me,
even if it should be my own mother."

"Hear, hear! the boy is coming out," murmured the Chief Forester, with
whom the sense of justice overpowered his vexation, but Frau von
Eschenhagen was far from listening to justice.

She had thought to crush her son with her appearance, and now he
offered her resistance in this never before heard of manner.

His manly behavior tried her most, as she recognized by it how deep and
powerful was the feeling which could change him so completely.

"I will spare you the enforcement of it toward your mother," she said
with boundless bitterness. "You are of age, and master of Burgsdorf. I
cannot prevent you, but if you really bring this Marietta Volkmar there
as your wife--then I leave."

This threat did not miss its aim. Willibald started and drew back.

"Mamma, you speak in anger."

"I speak in deepest earnestness. As soon as an actress enters the house
where I have lived and worked for thirty years--where I had hoped to
lay my head down for its final rest--I shall leave the house forever.
She may reign there then. You have the choice between her and your
mother."

"But, Regine, do not force it to such a conclusion," Schonan tried to
pacify her. "You torture the poor boy with this cruel 'either--or.'"

Regine did not listen to the exhortation. She stood there white to the
lips, her eyes immovably fixed upon her son, and she repeated
unyieldingly:

"Decide for yourself--this girl or me."

Willibald had also turned pale, and his lips quivered painfully and
bitterly as he said in a low tone:

"That's hard, mamma; you know how I love you, and how you hurt me with
your going away; but if you really are so cruel as to force me to
choose, well then"--he straightened himself with decision--"then I
choose my betrothed."

"Bravo!" cried the Chief Forester, forgetting entirely that he was one
of the offended ones. "Willy, I feel like Toni. I begin only now to
really like you. I am positively sorry now that you will not be my
son-in-law."

Frau von Eschenhagen had not expected such a turn of affairs. She had
trusted in her old power, which she now saw fall into fragments, but
she was not the woman to give in. She would not have bent her obstinate
will even if her life had depended upon it.

"Good! then we have finished with each other," she said curtly, and
turned to go without heeding her brother-in-law, who followed her,
trying to pacify her; but before they reached the door it was opened
and a servant entered with a hasty announcement:

"The steward of Rodeck is outside and begs----"

"I have no time now," stormed the impulsive Schonan. "Tell Stadinger I
cannot speak with him at present. I have important family affairs----"

He did not finish, for Stadinger already stood upon the threshold,
having followed the servant closely, and said in a peculiarly
suppressed tone: "I come about a family affair also, Herr Chief
Forester, but it is a sad one. I cannot wait, but must speak to you
immediately."

"But what is it?" asked Schonan, mystified. "Has something happened?
The Prince is not at Rodeck so far as I know."

"No, mein Herr. His Highness is in town, but Herr Rojanow is there and
sends me. He begs you and Herr von Eschenhagen to come to Rodeck
immediately, and you, gracious lady"--he glanced at Frau von
Eschenhagen, whom he knew from her former visits to Furstenstein--"you
would do well to come likewise."

"But why? What has happened?" cried Schonan, now really disturbed.

The old man hesitated; he had apparently been charged to break the news
gradually. Finally he said: "His Excellency, Herr von Wallmoden, is at
the castle, and the Frau Baroness also."

"My brother!" interrupted Regine with apprehension.

"Yes, gracious lady. His Excellency fell out of the carriage, and now
he lies there unconscious, which means to the physician we called in
great haste that the matter is dangerous."

"In God's name! we must go at once, Moritz," cried the frightened lady.

Herr von Schonan had already grasped the bell rope and pulled it.

"The carriage as quick as possible!" he cried to the servant. "How did
it happen, Stadinger? Tell us what you know."

"The Herr Baron was coming from Ostwalden with the gracious lady,
intending to come to Furstenstein," responded Stadinger. "The road, you
know, leads through the Rodeck tract not far from the castle. Our
Forester, who was with some of his subordinates in the Wald, fired a
few shots, and a wounded deer dashed across the road in wild flight
just by the carriage. The horses took fright and ran--the driver could
not hold them. The two Foresters who saw it ran after them. They heard
the Frau Baroness beg her husband: 'Remain seated. Herbert! for God's
sake, no, do not jump,' but His Excellency seemed to have lost his head
entirely. He tore the door open and jumped. At the wild pace they were
going he fell, of course, with full force, and against a tree. The
driver succeeded in bringing his horses to a standstill not far at a
bend of the road. The Frau Baroness, who was not hurt, hastened to the
place of misfortune as quickly as possible, and she found the poor
gentleman there seriously injured and unconscious. The Forester's
people carried him to Rodeck, which was near by. Herr Rojanow has
looked after everything that could be done at the moment, and now he
sends me to bring you the news."

It was natural that under the pressure of this heart-rending news the
recent bitter family quarrel should cease instantly. In great haste
they made ready for departure. Antonie was called and informed, and as
soon as the carriage drove up the Chief Forester and his sister-in-law
hastened downstairs.

Willibald, who followed with Stadinger, detained him on the steps for a
moment and asked in a low tone: "Has the doctor given his opinion? Do
you know anything more about it?"

The old man nodded sadly, and answered also in low tones: "I stood near
when Herr Rojanow asked him in the ante-room. There is no hope--the
poor Excellency will not live through the day."

                             CHAPTER XLII.

The little hunting castle of Rodeck, which lay so cold and lonely in
the first December snowy days, had seldom seen such excitement as
to-day.

It was about noon when the two Foresters, whose firing was the innocent
cause of the disaster, brought the injured Ambassador to the house.
They had known that the longer march to Furstenstein was impossible, so
they turned toward Rodeck, which lay scarcely a quarter of an hour's
walk from the place of the accident.

Hartmut Rojanow, who was at the castle, was immediately called, and had
made the necessary arrangements with quick decision. The rooms which
Prince Adelsberg usually occupied were put at the disposal of the
Baroness, and a messenger was despatched on horseback for the nearest
physician, who, fortunately, was easy to reach.

When the doctor's statement allowed no hope, Stadinger was sent to
Furstenstein to summon the relatives, who soon arrived, but only to
find Herr von Wallmoden dying. He did not regain the consciousness
which he had lost in that awful fall; he lay there immovable,
recognizing no one; and when the day drew to a close all was over.

The Chief Forester, with Willibald, returned to Furstenstein toward
night. He had sent a telegram before leaving Furstenstein, to notify
the Embassy of the sad accident which had befallen its chief, and now
had to follow it with the announcement of his death.

Frau von Eschenhagen had remained at Rodeck with her brother's widow.
To-morrow preparations would be made to carry the body to the Residenz,
and the two ladies wished to remain at his side until then.

Adelaide, who had proved so courageous during the danger, and who had
done her full duty at the bedside of her husband, seemed, now that this
duty was over, to give way entirely under the sudden and prostrating
blow. She was stunned and dazed by the awful accident.

                           *   *   *   *   *

At the window of his room, which was in an upper story, stood Hartmut,
gazing out into the desolate forest, which glittered so ghostly in the
dim starlight. Yesterday had brought the first snow, and now everything
was stiff in its cold embrace. The large lawn in front of the castle
was deeply covered; the trees bent heavily under their white burden,
and the broad branches of the firs were bowed to the ground.

Up there in the dark night sky, star after star shone in calm splendor,
and far off on the northern horizon dawned a slight rosy light, like
the first greeting of the dawn. And yet it was night cold, icy cold,
winter night, in which as yet no ray of the coming day could fall.

Hartmut's eyes were riveted upon the mysterious glow. In his heart,
too, it was dark, and yet something dawned there, fair and low,
like the dawn of the morn. He had not seen Adelaide von Wallmoden
since that fatal hour upon the forest height, until he met her
to-day at the side of her husband, who had been borne, bleeding and
unconscious--dying--into the castle.

This sight forced back every remembrance, and demanded assistance to
the extent of his power. He had not entered the death chamber, and had
only received the doctor's report; neither had he appeared upon Frau
von Eschenhagen's arrival, but later on had spoken with the Chief
Forester and Willibald. Now everything was decided. Herbert von
Wallmoden was no longer among the living, and his wife was a widow--was
free.

A deep breath agitated Hartmut's breast at the thought, and yet nothing
joyful was in it, although his feelings had undergone a change since
the hour he ventured his highest stake and--lost.

But that hour had proved to him the deep abyss which was open between
them even now that the bond of Adelaide's marriage was broken. She had
"shuddered" before the man who believed in nothing--to whom nothing was
sacred, and he was the same man he had been then.

He had offered an apology without words in the creation of the added
portion of Arivana which bore her name, but Ada had floated back to the
heights from which she had come with her cry of warning, and mankind,
with their glowing hate and love, remained upon earth.

Hartmut Rojanow could not force the hot, wild blood which flowed in his
veins into a quiet movement; he could not bow to a life full of strict
obedience and duty--neither did he wish to. For what had the genius
which won his way everywhere been given him, if it could not lift him
over the duties and barriers of every-day life?

And yet he knew that those large, blue eyes pointed inexorably to the
hated path--that would never do.

The red glimmer over the forest yonder had turned darker and risen
higher. It looked like the reflection of a powerful fire; but that
calm, steady light came from no fire. Immovable it stood in the north;
mysterious, high, and far removed--an aurora in approaching splendor.

The rolling of a carriage coming near in great haste broke Hartmut from
his revery. It was past nine o'clock; who could arrive at such an hour?
Perhaps it was the second physician who had been sent for in the
afternoon, but who had been away from home; perhaps some one from
Ostwalden, where the news may have already been carried.

Now the carriage turned the corner of the lawn; the wheels crunched
upon the hard, frozen ground, and the vehicle reached the main entrance
of the castle.

Rojanow, who to-day represented the master of the house, left his room
and started to meet the new arrival. He had reached the stairs which
led down to the entrance hall, and put his foot upon the first step,
when he suddenly shuddered and remained rooted to the spot.

Down there a voice spoke which he had not heard for ten long years; it
was suppressed, and yet he recognized it at the first moment.

"I come from the Embassy. We received a dispatch this afternoon, and I
took the first train to hasten here. How is he? Can I see Herr von
Wallmoden?"

Stadinger, who had received the newcomer, replied in such low tones
that the import of his words was lost to Hartmut, but the stranger
asked hastily: "I do not come too late?"

"Yes, mein Herr. Herr von Wallmoden died this afternoon."

A short pause followed, then the stranger said, huskily but firmly:
"Lead me to the widow--announce Colonel von Falkenried."

Stadinger turned to go, followed by a tall figure in a military cloak,
of which one could see only the outlines in the dimly-lighted hall.

The two figures had long ago disappeared in the lower rooms, and still
Hartmut stood leaning on the baluster, looking downward. Only when
Stadinger returned alone did he collect himself and retire to his room.

Here he walked restlessly for a quarter of an hour. It was a hard,
silent conflict which he waged. He had never been able to bend his
pride; had never humbled himself, but he had to bow low before his
deeply offended father--he knew that. But again a burning, absorbing
longing overcame him, becoming all-powerful and finally conquering. He
drew himself up resolutely.

"No, I will not shrink like a coward now. We are under one roof; the
same walls surround us; now it shall be ventured. He is my father and I
am his son."

                             CHAPTER XLIII.

The castle clock struck twelve in slow, hollow strokes. Deathlike
stillness lay over the forest outside, and it was as still in the house
where a corpse lay. The steward and servants had retired, as had Frau
von Eschenhagen. Exhausted nature demanded its due. She had made the
long, tedious journey from Burgsdorf without stop, and had lived
through the hard, trying day.

Only a few windows were dimly lighted; they belonged to the rooms which
had been appointed to Frau von Wallmoden and Colonel Falkenried, which
lay near together, separated only by an ante-room.

Falkenried intended to accompany the widow back to the Residenz on the
morrow. He had spoken with her and Regine, and had stood for a long
time beside the body of his friend, who only yesterday had called to
him so confidently, "_auf wiedersehen_"--who had been so full of his
projects and plans for his future and his newly acquired possessions.
Now all this had come to an end. Cold and stiff he lay upon his bier,
and cold and gloomy Falkenried now stood at the window of his room.
Even this awful accident was not able to shake his stony composure, for
he had long ago forgotten to consider death a misfortune. _Life_ was
hard--but not death.

He looked silently out into the winter night and he, too, saw the
ghostly glimmer which lighted the darkness out there. Dark-red it now
glowed upon the distant horizon, and the whole of the northern sky
seemed penetrated by invisible flames.

Redlike, as through a purple veil, twinkled the stars. Now a few
distant rays shot up, growing more numerous, and rising always higher
to the zenith.

Beneath this flaming sky the snow-covered world lay cold and white. The
aurora was shining in the fulness of its splendor!

Falkenried was so lost in the glory of the sight that he did not hear
the opening and closing of the door of the ante-room. Carefully the
partly closed door of his own room was now opened, but the one entering
did not bring himself into view, but remained motionless upon the
threshold.

Colonel Falkenried still stood at the window half-averted, but the
flickering light of the candles which burned upon the table lighted his
face distinctly; the strong, deep lines of the features, and the
gloomy, careworn brow beneath the white hair.

Hartmut shivered involuntarily; he had not anticipated such a deep and
awful change. The man standing in his prime, looked aged, and who had
brought this premature age upon him?

A few moments passed in this deep silence, then a voice vibrated
through the room half-audible, beseeching, and full of a tenderness
suppressed with difficulty--a single word pregnant with meaning.

"Father!"

Falkenried started as if a spirit voice had reached his ear. Slowly he
turned as if really believing he heard a spirit-haunting voice.

Hartmut quickly approached a few steps, then stood still.

"Father, it is I--I come----"

He stopped short, for now he met his father's eyes; those eyes which he
had feared so much, and what they now expressed robbed him of the
courage to speak further. He bowed his head in silence.

Every drop of blood seemed to have left the face of Colonel Falkenried.
He had not known--he had no idea that his son was under the same roof
with him; the meeting found him totally unprepared, but it did not tear
from him one exclamation, nor sign of anger or weakness. Rigid and mute
he stood there and looked upon him who had once been his all. At last
he raised his hand and pointed to the door.

"Go!"

"Father, listen to me----"

"Go, I say." The command now sounded threatening.

"No, I shall not go!" cried Hartmut passionately. "I know that
reconciliation with you depends upon this hour. I have offended
you--how deeply and seriously I feel only now--but I was a boy of
seventeen, and it was my mother whom I followed. Think of that, father,
and pardon me--grant pardon to your son."

"You are the son of the woman whose name you bear--not mine!" said the
Colonel with cutting scorn. "A Falkenried has no son without honor."

Hartmut was about to burst forth at this awful word; the blood rose hot
and wild to his brow, but he looked upon that other brow beneath the
hair bleached like snow, and with superhuman effort controlled himself.

The two believed themselves alone during this interview in the
stillness of the night--surely everything was sleeping in the castle.
They had no idea that a witness was there.

Adelaide von Wallmoden had not retired to rest. She knew that she could
find no sleep after this day which had so suddenly and disastrously
made her a widow. Dressed still in the dark traveling suit which she
had worn on the unfortunate drive, she sat in her room, when suddenly
Colonel Falkenried's voice reached her ear.

With whom could he be speaking at such an hour? Was he not a total
stranger here? And the voice sounded so strangely hollow and
threatening.

She arose in alarm and entered the ante-room which separated the two
sleeping apartments--for only a moment, she thought--only to see
that nothing had happened; then she heard another voice which she
knew--heard the word "Father," and like lightning the truth flashed
upon her, which the next words confirmed. As if paralyzed, she remained
standing there, every word reaching her through the partly closed door.

"You make this hour hard for me," said Hartmut with painfully sustained
composure. "Be it so--I have not expected it otherwise. Wallmoden has
told you everything. I might have known it, but then he could not keep
from you what I have sought and won. I bring to you the laurel of the
poet, father--the first laurel which has come to me. Learn to know my
work; let it speak to you, then you will feel that its creator could
not live and breathe in the constraint of a vocation which kills every
poetical emotion; then you will forget the unfortunate error of the
boy."

Here again it was Hartmut Rojanow who spoke thus with his overweening
self-consciousness and pride, which did not leave him even in this
hour; the poet of Arivana, for whom there existed no duties--no
barriers; but he encountered a rock here, upon which he shattered.

"The boy's error!" repeated Falkenried, just as harshly as before.
"Yes, they called it so to make it possible for me to remain in the
army. I name it differently, and so does every one of my comrades. You
were to have been an ensign. In a few weeks it would have been
desertion of the standard by law also. I have never considered it
anything else. You had been raised in the strict discipline of honor of
our caste, and knew what you did, for you were no longer a boy. _He who
flees secretly from the military service which he owes his fatherland
is a deserter; he who breaks a vow--a given word--is without honor. You
did both!_ But of course you and your kind pass over such things
easily."

Hartmut clenched his teeth; his whole body trembled at these merciless
words, and his voice sounded hollow, choked, as he answered:

"Enough, father. I cannot bear it. I wished to bow before you--wished
to submit--but you yourself drive me from you. This is the same cruel
sternness with which you drove my mother from you. I know it from her
own lips. Whatever her later life was, and however through it my own
has developed--this severity alone has been the cause of it."

The Colonel folded his arms, and an expression of unspeakable disdain
quivered around his mouth.

"From her own lips you know? Possibly. No woman has sunk so deeply but
she would try to veil such a truth from her son. I did not wish to
pollute your ears at that time with this truth, for you were innocent
and pure. Now you will probably understand me when I tell you that the
separation was a demand of honor. The man who stained my honor fell by
my bullet, and she who betrayed me--I pushed from me."

Hartmut became white as death at this disclosure. He had never thought
that. He had fully believed that only the harshness which lay in his
father's character had caused the separation. The remembrance of his
mother fell lower and lower; he had loved her just as ardently as she
had loved him, even when he felt at times that she was his ruin.

"I wished to protect you from the poisonous breath of this presence and
influence," continued Falkenried. "Fool that I was! You were lost to me
even without the coming of your mother. You bear her features; it is
her blood that courses through your veins, and it would have demanded
its dominion sooner or later. You would have become anyway what you are
now--a homeless adventurer, who does not recognize his fatherland and
his honor."

"This is too much!" burst forth Hartmut wildly. "I shall not permit
myself to be so abused, even by you. I see now that no reconciliation
between us is possible. I go, but the world will judge differently from
you. It has already crowned my first work, and I shall force from it
the appreciation which my own father keeps from me."

The Colonel looked at his son--something awful was in the glance; then
he said icily and slowly, emphasizing each word: "Then take care also
that the world does not learn that the 'crowned poet' did a spy's
service two years ago at Paris."

Hartmut shrank as if hit by a bullet.

"I? In Paris? Are you out of your senses?"

Falkenried shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

"Acting besides? Do not trouble yourself--I know all. Wallmoden proved
to me what rôle Zalika Rojanow and her son played at Paris. I know the
origin of the means by which they continued the life they were
accustomed to when their wealth was lost. They were very much sought
after by the commissioners, for they were exceedingly apt, and they who
bought their services received them."

Hartmut stood as if lifeless. So this was the awful solution of the
problem which Wallmoden had given him that night in his hint. He had
not understood its meaning then, but sought the solution in another
direction. This was it, then, which his mother kept from him--from
which she had diverted him with caresses and coaxings whenever he
put a suspicious question. She had sunk to the last, most disgraceful
lot--and her son was branded with her.

The silence which now ensued was awful; it lasted for minutes, and when
Hartmut finally spoke again his voice had lost its sound--the words
came brokenly, almost inaudibly, from his lips:

"And you believe--that I--that I knew about this?"

"Yes," said the Colonel, coldly and firmly.

"Father, you cannot--must not do that. The punishment would be too
terrible. You must believe me when I tell you that I had no idea
of this disgrace--that I believed a part of our wealth had been
saved--that--you will believe me, father?"

"No." Falkenried remained rigid and unbending as before.

Beside himself with anguish, Hartmut fell upon his knees.

"Father, before everything that is sacred to you in heaven or in
earth--oh, do not look at me so terribly. You drive me frantic with
that look! Father, I give you my word of honor----"

An awful, wild laugh from his father interrupted him.

"Your word of honor as at that time at Burgsdorf. Get up--abandon
acting; you do not deceive me by it. You went from me with a breaking
of your word--_you return with a lie_. Go your own way--I go mine. Only
one thing I request of you--command you. Do not dare to use the name of
Falkenried by the side of the branded one of Rojanow. Never let the
world know who you are. When that happens my blood will be upon you,
for then--I end with life!"

With a loud cry Hartmut sprang to his feet and approached his father,
but Falkenried repelled him by a commanding gesture.

"Do you think that I still love life? I have borne it because I had
to--perhaps I considered it my duty; but there is one point where this
duty ends; you know it now--act accordingly."

He turned his back upon his son and walked to the window. Hartmut did
not speak another word. Mutely he turned to go.

The ante-room was not lighted, yet it was filled with the glow
of the blazing skies outside, and in this glow stood a woman--deathly
pale--with eyes fixed with an indescribable expression upon the one
approaching.

He glanced up and a single look showed him that she knew all. This was
the last. He had received his mortal humiliation before the woman he
loved--had been thrown into the dust before her!

Hartmut did not know how he left the castle, how he reached the open
air. He only felt that he should stifle in those walls--that he was
driven forth with fury and power. He found himself at last under a fir
tree, which bowed its snow-covered limbs over him. It was night in the
forest--cold, icy winter night, but up there in the sky the mysterious
light shone on and on with purple power, with quivering rays, which
united at the zenith into a crown.

                             CHAPTER XLIV.

It was summer again. July had commenced, and in the hot, sun-parched
days the forest mountains beckoned irresistibly with their cool
shadows, and the green, airy splendor of their dales and heights.

Ostwalden, the estate which Herbert von Wallmoden had purchased
immediately before his death, and had not been permitted to live in for
even one summer, had since then rested in solitude. But a few days ago
the young widow had arrived there in company with her sister-in-law,
Frau von Eschenhagen.

Adelaide had left the South German Residenz shortly after the death of
her husband and returned home with her brother, who had hastened to her
side at the news of her husband's death. Her short married life had
lasted but eight months, and now the wife, not yet twenty years old,
wore the widow's veil.

Regine had been easily persuaded to accompany her sister-in-law. The
once absolute mistress of Burgsdorf had stood to her "either--or," and
as Willibald proved just as obstinate, she had made her threat true,
and had moved to town even during the first period of mourning for her
brother.

But Frau von Eschenhagen deceived herself if she thought to gain her
end by this last move. She had hoped that her son would not let it come
to a real separation, but it was in vain that she let him feel the full
bitterness of the separation. The young master had had full opportunity
to prove that his newly awakened independence and love were not mere
momentary feelings.

He tried everything to make his mother reconsider, but when he did not
succeed, he showed a like stubbornness, and mother and son had not seen
each other for months.

However, his engagement with Marietta had not been made public as yet.
He believed he owed his former fiancée and her father too much respect
to allow a second betrothal to follow too soon upon the heels of the
first. Besides, Marietta was bound by contract to the theatre for fully
six months, and as her betrothal was to remain a secret for the
present, she could not obtain an earlier release. Only now had the
young girl returned to her grandfather at Waldhofen, where Willibald
was also expected.

Of course Frau von Eschenhagen knew nothing about this or she would
hardly have accepted the invitation which brought her into the
neighborhood.

The day had been so warm and sunny that only late afternoon brought
cooler air, but the road to Ostwalden was mostly shady, as it lay
through the forests of Rodeck.

Two horsemen were now on this road; one in gray hunting jacket and
hat--the Chief Forester, von Schonan; the other a slender, youthful
form clad in a distinguished looking summer suit--Prince Adelsberg.
They had met by chance and learned that both were bound for the same,
destination.

"I should not have dreamed of meeting you here, Your Highness," said
Schonan. "It was said that you would not visit Rodeck at all this
summer, and Stadinger, with whom I spoke the day before yesterday, did
not know a syllable of your near arrival."

"No; and he cried Ach! and Weh! when I fell upon the house so
unexpectedly," replied Egon. "It would not have needed much to make him
show me from my own door, because I followed my dispatch instantly, and
nothing was prepared for me. But the heat at Ostend was well-nigh
unbearable. I could not stand the glowing sands of the beach any
longer, and was overcome by an irrepressible longing for my cool, quiet
forest nook. God be thanked that I have gotten away from the heat and
fuss of a watering place!"

His Highness was pleased not to tell the truth in this case. He had
hastened here from the beach of the North Sea to enjoy a certain
"neighborhood" of which he happened to hear. Stadinger had mentioned in
a report, in which he asked for permission to make some changes at
Rodeck, that these same arrangements had already been made at
Ostwalden, where Frau von Wallmoden dwelt at present.

To his surprise, instead of the expected permission, his young master
arrived in person after three days. The Prince had not known anything
better after this news than to throw over all his summer plans.

The Chief Forester did not seem to believe the pretext, for he remarked
somewhat sarcastically: "It surprises me, indeed then, that our Court
stays at Ostend so long. The Duke and Duchess are there; also Princess
Sophie, with a niece--a relative of her late husband, I hear."

"Yes, a niece." Egon turned suddenly and looked at the speaker. "Herr
Chief Forester, you, too, want to deliver congratulations to me--I see
it in your face--but if you do that I shall challenge you instantly
here in the midst of the forest."

"Well, Your Highness, I do not intend to bring a duel upon myself,"
laughed Schonan, "but the newspapers already speak quite openly of an
approaching or already consummated engagement, which suits the wishes
of the princely ladies."

"My most gracious aunts wish many things," said Egon coolly. "Their
most obedient nephew, though, is often of a different opinion, alas;
and it has been the case this time also. I went to Ostend upon the
invitation of the Duke, which I could not refuse, but the air did not
agree with me at all, and I cannot risk my health so recklessly. I felt
the first symptoms of sunstroke, which would certainly have taken me
off, so I decided, then, in good time----"

"To take yourself off," finished Schonan. "This is like Your Highness,
but now you can count upon a three-fold displeasure."

"Possibly. I shall bear it in solitude and self-banishment. I intend,
besides"--here the young Prince drew a very solemn face--"to give all
my attention this summer to my estates--especially Rodeck. A change in
the building shall be made there--Stadinger has already written me
about it, but I considered a personal surveillance necessary."

"On account of the chimneys?" asked Schonan dryly. "Stadinger thought
that as the chimneys smoked last winter, he would like to have new ones
built."

"What does Stadinger know about it?" cried Egon, vexed that his old
"Waldgeist" had again gotten ahead of him with his most uncomfortable
love for truth. "I have very grand plans for beautifying---- Ah, here
we are!"

He started his horse into a quicker gait and the Chief Forester
followed his example, for Ostwalden indeed lay before them.

The extensive changes with which the late Wallmoden had intended to
convert Ostwalden into a splendid show place had not been made; but the
old ivy-covered castle, with its two side turrets, and the shady,
although somewhat neglected park, possessed a picturesque charm. It was
understood that the present mistress intended neither changes nor a
sale of the property, for to the heiress of the Stahlberg wealth a
villa more or less was of no consequence.

Upon their arrival the gentlemen learned that Frau von Wallmoden was in
the park; but Frau von Eschenhagen was in her room. The Prince allowed
himself to be announced to the lady of the house, while the Chief
Forester first looked up his sister-in-law, whom he had not seen since
the previous winter. He went to her apartments and entered without more
ado.

"Here I am," he announced in his usual unceremonious manner. "I don't
need to be announced to my Frau sister, even if she seems to hold me at
arm's length. Why did you not come along, Regine, when Adelaide drove
to Furstenstein the day before yesterday? Of course, I do not believe
the excuse which she brought me in your name, and have now come two
hours' riding on horseback to ask for an explanation."

Regine offered him her hand. She had not changed outwardly in these six
or seven months. She still bore the same strong, self-reliant
appearance and decided way, but her former serenity and cheerfulness,
which, in spite of her brusquerie, were so winning, had disappeared
from her manner. If she never acknowledged it under any circumstances,
it was plainly to be seen that she suffered because her only son grew
strange to her--the son to whom once his mother's love and will had
been all things.

"I have nothing against you, Moritz," she replied. "I know that you
have retained the old friendship for me in spite of all that has been
done to you and your daughter; but you ought to understand how
embarrassing it is to me to visit Furstenstein again."

"On account of the dissolved engagement? You ought to be consoled about
it at last. You were present and saw and heard how easily Toni took
matters. She was decidedly better pleased with her rôle of 'guardian
angel' than with that of fiancée; and she has tried several times to
change your mind by her letters, just as I have; but we both have been
unsuccessful."

"No; I know how to value your rare magnanimity."

"Rare magnanimity!" repeated Schonan, laughing. "Well, yes, it might
not happen often that the former fiancée and prospective father-in-law
put in a good word for the recreant betrothed, so that he and his
sweetheart may gain the maternal blessing. But for once we are thus
superior in our frankness; and besides, both of us came to the
conclusion that Willy, in fact, has only now become a sensible person,
and this has been accomplished solely and alone by--yes, I cannot help
it, Regine--by the little Marietta."

Frau von Eschenhagen frowned at this remark. She did not consider it
best to answer it, but asked in a tone that plainly betrayed her wish
to change the subject: "Has Toni returned? I learned through Adelaide
that she had been at the Residenz, but was daily expected home."

The Chief Forester, who had accepted a seat in the meantime, leaned
back comfortably in his chair.

"Yes, she returned yesterday, but with a second shadow, for she brought
some one along, who she insists must and shall be her future husband,
and he insists upon it likewise with such emphasis, that really nothing
is left for me to do but to say Yes--Amen!"

"What! Toni engaged again?" asked Frau von Eschenhagen in surprise.

"Yes, but this time she managed it all by herself; I did not have an
inkling of it. You will remember that she took it into her head at that
time that she, too, wanted to be loved in a surpassing manner, and
enjoy the usual romance of it. Herr Lieutenant von Waldorf seems to
have attended to that. He has, as she told me with highest
satisfaction, sunk on his knees before her, and declared he could not
and would not live without her, while she gave him a similar touching
assurance, and so forth. Yes, Regine, it will not do any longer to lead
the children by the apron strings when they become of age. They imagine
that marriage is solely their affair, and really they are not so far
wrong about it."

The last remark sounded very suggestive, but Regine overlooked it
completely. She repeated thoughtfully:

"Waldorf? the name is quite strange to me. Where did Toni get
acquainted with the young officer?"

"He is my son's friend and he brought him home with him at his last
visit. In consequence of that an acquaintance with his mother was
begun, which ripened until she invited Toni to visit her some weeks,
and there and then the falling in love and engagement took place. I
have nothing to say against it. Waldorf is handsome, jolly, and in love
up to his ears. He does seem to be a little volatile, but he will
settle down when he gets a sensible wife. The model boys are not after
my taste; they are the very worst when they do get wild, as we have
seen in your Willy. Waldorf will get his discharge in the fall, for my
daughter is not suited for a lieutenant's wife. I will buy an estate
for the young couple, and the wedding will occur at Christmas."

"I am so glad for Toni's sake," said Frau von Eschenhagen, cordially.
"You take a burden from my heart by this news."

"I am glad, too," nodded the Chief Forester, "but now you ought to
follow my example and take a burden from the hearts of a certain
other couple. Be reasonable, Regine, and give in! The little Marietta
has remained true, although she was on the stage. Everybody praises
her blameless conduct. You do not need to be ashamed of your
daughter-in-law."

Regine arose suddenly and pushed her chair back.

"I beg you once for all, Moritz, to spare me such requests. I shall
stand firm at my word. Willibald knows the condition under which alone
I will return to Burgsdorf. If he does not fulfil it--the separation
remains."

"He knows better," said Schonan dryly, "than to give up his bride-elect
and marriage solely because she does not suit his Frau mamma. Such
conditions are never fulfilled."

"You express yourself very amiably indeed," returned Frau von
Eschenhagen angrily. "Of course, what do you know of the love and
anxiety of a mother, or of the gratitude her children owe her? All of
you are ungrateful, inconsiderate, selfish----"

"Oho! I beg you, in the name of my sex, to refrain from such
vituperations," interrupted the Chief Forester hotly; but suddenly he
reconsidered and said: "We have not seen each other for seven months,
Regine; we really ought not to quarrel the first day again--we can do
that later on. Let us therefore leave your refractory son alone for the
present, and speak of ourselves. How do you like it in town? You do not
exactly look so very well satisfied."

"I am exceptionally satisfied," declared Regine with great decision.
"What I need only is work. I am not used to idleness."

"Then create work for yourself. It rests solely with you to again step
to the head of a large household."

"Are you commencing again----"

"I did not mean Burgsdorf this time," said Schonan, playing with his
riding whip. "I only meant--you sit all alone in town, and I shall sit
all alone at Furstenstein when Toni marries--that is very tiresome! How
would it be--well, I have already explained it to you once before, but
you did not want me then. Perhaps you have bethought yourself better
now. How would it be if we should make the third couple at this double
wedding?"

Frau von Eschenhagen looked gloomily to the floor and shook her head.

"No, Moritz. I feel less like marrying now than ever."

"Already a 'No' again!" shouted the Chief Forester wrathfully. "Is this
a second refusal you give me? At first you did not want me because your
son and your beloved Burgsdorf had grown too near your heart, and now
when you see that both get along very well without you, you do not want
me because you do not '_feel like it_.' Feeling does not belong to
marrying, anyhow only some sense is wanted; but if one is
unreasonableness and obstinacy personified----"

"You woo me in a very flattering manner, indeed," interrupted Regine,
now wrathful also. "It would be an exceedingly peaceful marriage if you
act like this as a suitor."

"It would not be peaceful, but neither would it be tiresome," declared
Schonan. "I believe we could both stand it. Once more, Regine, do you
want me or do you not want me?"

"No; I do not care to '_stand_' a married life."

"Then let it alone!" cried the Chief Forester furiously, jumping up and
snatching his hat. "If it gives you so much pleasure to say 'No'
forever, then say it. But Willy will marry in spite of you, and he is
right; and now I shall be the best man at the wedding just to spite
you."

With which he rushed off, quite beside himself at this second jilting,
and Frau von Eschenhagen remained behind in a similar frame of mind.
They had really quarrelled again at the first _Wiedersehen_, and even
the second refusal could not be left out of this friendly habit.

                              CHAPTER XLV.

Meantime Prince Adelsberg was with Frau von Wallmoden in the park. He
had begged her not to interrupt her outing, and so they both walked in
the shade of the huge trees in the cool, green twilight, while out on
the meadow lay still the glaring sunlight.

Egon had not seen the young widow since the death of her husband. The
formal visit of condolence, which he had made after the accident, had
been received by Eugene Stahlberg in the name of his sister, and then
they had left the city immediately.

Adelaide wore, of course, the widow's mourning; but her companion
thought he had never seen her so beautiful as to-day in the deep,
sombre black and crepe veil, beneath which the blonde hair glimmered.
His glance passed repeatedly over this beautiful blonde head, and
always the question recurred: What has really happened to these
features that they look so entirely different?

Egon had only known the lady at whose side he now walked in that cool,
haughty composure which had made her so unapproachable to him and the
world. Now this coldness had disappeared, and he saw and felt but could
not decipher the strange change which had taken its place.

The young widow could not possibly mourn so deeply and seriously for a
husband who was so far removed from her in age, and who, even had he
been young, could never have given her the love youth demands, with his
practical, coldly calculating nature. And yet there lay over her whole
appearance the expression of secret suffering--of a sorrow which was
mutely but painfully borne.

Where did this mysterious line come from, this soft light of the eyes
which seemed to have learned but now to know tears?

"It always seems to me as if life and fire could glow there and
transform the snow region into a blooming world," Prince Adelsberg had
once exclaimed in jest. Now this transformation had taken place,
slowly, almost imperceptibly. But this soft, half-painful expression
which replaced the former seriousness, this dreamy look, gave a charm
to the young woman which, with all her beauty, had been missing
before--a charming, gentle grace.

At first the conversation touched upon indifferent things only, the
questions and answers that were customary and formal. Egon narrated
incidents of happenings during the winter at Court and in town, and
then offered the same explanation of his sudden arrival which he had
given the Chief Forester, speaking of the unendurable heat at Ostend
and of his longing for the cool, still forest solitude.

A fleeting smile which quivered over the lips of his companion told him
that she believed this pretext as little as had the Chief Forester, and
that the notice in the papers had also been seen by her. He grew
unaccountably vexed about it and studied how he could remedy the
mistake, here where he could not be so plain-spoken, when Adelaide
suddenly asked: "Shall you remain alone at Rodeck, Your Highness? Last
summer you had a--guest with you."

A shadow passed over the face of the young Prince. He forgot the rumor
of his engagement and his anger about it at this remark.

"You mean Hartmut Rojanow?" he asked, gravely. "He will hardly come, as
he is in Sicily at present, or at least was there two months ago. I
have had no news from him since, and do not even know where to write
him."

Frau von Wallmoden bent down and picked some flowers growing at the
wayside as she remarked: "I thought you were in lively correspondence
with each other."

"I hoped so at the beginning of our separation, and it is not my fault;
but Hartmut has become a perfect mystery to me lately. You were witness
of the brilliant success of his 'Arivana' at our Court Theatre; it has
since then been reproduced at several other theatres. The play is
conquering by storm wherever it appears, and the author withdraws from
all these triumphs--almost flees from his rising fame--hides from all
the world, even from me. Let who can comprehend it!"

Adelaide had regained her former erect carriage, but the hand which
held the flowers trembled slightly, while her eyes were directed upon
the Prince in breathless expectancy.

"And when did Herr Rojanow leave Germany?" she asked.

"At the beginning of December. Shortly before that he had gone to
Rodeck for a few days immediately after the first appearance of his
drama. I considered it a caprice and yielded. Then he suddenly returned
to my house, in town, in a condition of mind and body which really
frightened me, and announced his departure; listened to no entreaties,
answered no questions, but remained firm about going, and really left
like a whirlwind. Weeks passed before I heard of him; then he sent me
occasional letters, which, if rare enough, at least kept me aware of
his whereabouts, and I could answer him. He went to Greece, where he
strayed now here, now there. After that he went to Sicily, but now all
information has stopped, and I am in the greatest alarm."

Egon spoke with suppressed excitement. One could see how deeply the
separation from his passionately loved friend hurt him. He did not
dream that the young widow at his side could have given him an
explanation of the mystery. She knew what drove Hartmut to wander
restlessly from land to land; what made him shudder before the famous
poet's name which bore that secret but awful stain. But it was the
first news she had heard of him since that disastrous night at Rodeck,
which had discovered everything to her.

"Poets are sometimes differently constituted from common mortals," she
said, slowly plucking to pieces one of her flowers. "They have the
right sometimes to be incomprehensible."

The Prince shook his head, incredulously and sadly.

"No, it is not that; this comes from an entirely different source. I
felt long ago that something dark--mysterious--lay in Hartmut's life,
but I never inquired into it, for he would not suffer the slightest
touch on this point, and he kept silent persistently. It is as if he
stands under a doom, which gives him no peace or rest anywhere, and
which springs upon him suddenly when one thinks it buried and
forgotten. I received this impression anew when he took leave of me in
wild agitation; it was impossible to hold him. But you cannot imagine
how I miss him! He has spoiled me with his presence for over two years
and with all the advantages of his rich, fiery nature which he gave
lavishly. Now everything has become desolate and colorless to me, and I
do not know at times how I can bear life without him."

They came to a standstill, for they had reached the limit of the park.
Green meadows lay before them in the sunlight, and over yonder rose the
heights of the forest mountains. Adelaide had listened in silence,
while her gaze was lost in the far distance; but now she turned
suddenly and stretched out her hand to her companion.

"I believe you can be a very sacrificing friend, Your Highness. Herr
Rojanow ought not to have left you; perhaps you could have saved him
from this--doom."

Egon could not believe his senses; the warmth of the heartfelt
tone--the eyes in which a tear glimmered--the whole, almost passionate,
sympathy with his sorrow surprised as much as it delighted him. He
grasped the hand fervently and pressed his lips upon it.

"If anything can console me for Hartmut's departure, it is your
sympathy!" he cried. "You will permit me to use the privilege of a
neighbor and come occasionally to Ostwalden? Do not deny me this, as I
am so lonely at Rodeck, and I came here only and solely----"

He checked himself suddenly, for he felt that such a confession was not
appropriate but an offense, as he saw plainly.

The young widow withdrew her hand quickly and drew back. It had
required only this moment to transform her again into "Aurora."

"To flee from the heat and noise of a watering place like Ostend," she
finished coolly. "You said so, at least, a little while ago, Your
Highness."

"It was a pretext," declared the Prince, gravely. "I left Ostend only
to put an end to certain rumors which were connected with my stay
there, and which even found their way into the papers. They were
positively without foundation so far as I am concerned, I give you my
word, Your Excellency."

He had quickly embraced the opportunity to dispel the error which he
did not wish to suffer at this place at any price, but the result did
not come up to his expectation. Frau von Wallmoden had again wrapped
herself up in her old, unapproachable manner and made him suffer for
his premature haste.

"Why this solemn explanation, Your Highness? As it was only a rumor, I
understand just as fully as your other neighbors that you wish to
retain the privilege of choice. But I believe we must return to the
castle, as you said that my brother-in-law had come with you, and I
should like to see him before he leaves."

Egon bowed assent, and tried obediently to accept the indifferent and
every-day tone by which he was made aware that he should not be
anything more here than a "neighbor." He took the first favorable
moment at the castle to make his excuses, which were immediately
accepted, but not without an invitation to come again had been given,
and that was at present the most important thing.

"Blamed haste!" he muttered as he galloped away. "Now I shall be kept
as distant as ever, perhaps for weeks. As soon as one tries to approach
the woman a little nearer--the ice stares into one's face. But"--and
here the face of the Prince lit up--"but at last the ice commences to
melt. I saw and felt it in that tone and look. I must be patient
here--the prize is worthy one's perseverance."

Egon von Adelsberg did not dream that this look and tone, upon which he
built his hopes, were for another, and that she wished only to hear
from that other when the permission to call again had been given.

                             CHAPTER XLVI.

July had only half gone when the world, which seemed but now to repose
in deepest calm, was suddenly startled from this peace. A lightning had
flamed up on the Rhine, the glare and uncanny light of which reached
from ocean to the Alps. A war-cloud stood heavy and threatening in the
west, and soon the cry of war resounded through the land.

It broke over Southern Germany like a whirlwind--tore men from their
field of action, changed all conditions and overthrew all plans. Where
a week ago comfort and security reigned, men were now grasped and
carried away by storm.

At Furstenstein the daughter of the house was celebrating her
betrothal, but she had to take leave of her betrothed, who hastened to
his regiment.

At Waldhofen, where Willibald was expected for a long visit, he
appeared suddenly in stormy haste to see Marietta once more in the few
days which remained before he, too, should be called away.

At Ostwalden, Adelaide prepared for departure, to once more embrace the
brother who had hastened to join the standard.

Prince Adelsberg had left Rodeck at the first news of war, and hurried
to the Residenz, which he reached at the same hour as the Duke. The
world seemed all at once to have gotten an entirely changed face, and
the people with it.

In the little garden of Dr. Volkmar's house stood Willibald von
Eschenhagen, talking earnestly and impressively with the grandfather of
his fiancée, who sat before him upon a bench, and did not seem to be
acquiescent to what Willy was explaining.

"But, my dear Willy, this is precipitation without an equal," the good
doctor said, shaking his head. "Your engagement with Marietta has not
yet been made public, and now you want to be married heels over head.
What will the world say to it?"

"The world finds everything explained under the present circumstances,"
returned Willibald; "and we cannot go after outside considerations. I
have to go to war, and it is my duty to secure Marietta's future in any
case. I cannot bear the thought that she should have to return to the
stage after my death, or should be dependent upon my mother's mercy.
The fortune to which I am heir is in my mother's hands, who disposes of
it exclusively. I possess as yet only the entailed estates which, in
case I die, go over to a side branch of the family; but our family law
secures the widow of the lord of the estates a rich dowry. If it should
not be granted me to return from battle, I want to give my fiancée at
least the name and position in life to which she has a right. I cannot
go to the war contentedly until this has been arranged first."

He spoke quietly, but with much decision. The awkward, timid Willibald
could not be recognized in this young man, who overlooked the situation
so clearly and pleaded so earnestly for his wishes to be granted.

He had had, however, a school of independence in those last six months,
when he had been put entirely upon his own resources, and had his
firmness continually tried in the contest with his mother; and one
could see that he had learned something in this school.

His outward appearance was also more prepossessing; in fact, as the
Chief Forester expressed it, he had only now become a man.

Dr. Volkmar could not resist these arguments. He well knew that if the
war took away her betrothed, Marietta would again be without means and
without protection; and a burden fell from his heart at the thought of
her secure future. Therefore he gave up all argument and only asked:
"What does Marietta say to it? Has she given her consent?"

"Yes; we decided on it last night, directly after my arrival. Of
course, I did not speak to her about security and widowhood, for she
would have been beside herself if I had dwelt at length upon the case
of my death; but I told her that in case of my being wounded, she, as
my wife, could hasten to me without preliminaries or companions, and
could remain with me, and this decided her. We should have had but a
quiet wedding, anyway."

His face clouded at the last words, and the doctor said, with a sigh:
"Yes, indeed, none of us would have been inclined to celebrate the
wedding with festivities if the couple had to go to the altar without
the blessing of the mother. Have you really tried every way with her,
Willy?"

"Everything," replied the young lord, solemnly. "Do you think it will
be easy for me to miss my mother on such a day? But she has left me no
choice, therefore I must bear it. I shall now take the necessary steps
instantly, and in anticipation thereof have brought my papers with me."

"And do you believe that a marriage can be possible on such short
notice?" asked the doctor, doubtfully.

"At this time, yes. The formalities have been reduced to the
necessities, and all preliminaries are dispensed with where a hasty
marriage is desired. As soon as Marietta is my wife, she will accompany
me to Berlin, where she will remain until my regiment leaves. Then she
will return to you until the close of the war."

Volkmar arose and gave Willibald his hand.

"You are right; it is perhaps best so under the present circumstances.
Well, my little _singvogel_, so you will really marry as quickly as
your betrothed wishes?"

The question was addressed to Marietta, who now entered the garden. Her
pale cheeks showed the trace of tears, but it was with an exceedingly
happy look that she flew into Willibald's open arms.

"I am ready at any time, grandpapa," she said, simply. "The
leave-taking will be easier to us after we belong to each other and you
give your blessing."

The old gentleman looked half sadly, half happily upon the young
couple, who wished to be united before their sad separation should so
quickly take place. Then he said, with emotion: "Well, so be it: marry
then with my blessing. I give it to you from my inmost heart."

Everything necessary was then quickly discussed. The marriage was to
take place as soon as possible, and, of course, quietly and simply.
Willibald intended to go to Furstenstein to-day to notify the Chief
Forester of the settled plan.

Dr. Volkmar left them to make a call upon a patient, and Willibald
remained alone with his fiancée. They had not seen each other for so
long, and now the future lay dark and threatening before them. But the
next few days belonged to them, and they were happy in this thought, in
spite of everything.

                             CHAPTER XLVII.

Engaged in their subdued chatting, they did not notice that the house
door was opened, and some one came with slow, rather hesitating steps
along the hall, until the rustle of a woman's dress upon the gravel
path made them listen, and suddenly both sprang to their feet.

"My mother!" cried Willibald, in joyful surprise; but at the same time
he put his arm around Marietta as if he wished to protect her from a
renewed attack, for Frau von Eschenhagen's face seemed hard and gloomy,
and her bearing did not look like reconciliation.

Without noticing the young girl, she turned to her son:

"I learned through Adelaide that you were here," she began in a rather
harsh tone, "and I only wanted to ask how everything is at Burgsdorf.
Have you looked for a steward during your absence? One does not know
how long the war will last?"

The joyous expression on the face of the young lord vanished. He had
really hoped for a different greeting at this unexpected appearance of
his mother.

"I have arranged everything to the best of my ability," he replied.
"The greater part of my people have been called to enlist; even the
inspector has to leave in a few days, and a substitute cannot be had
now. Work must therefore be reduced to the necessities, and old Martens
will overlook everything."

"Martens is a goose," said Regine, in her old, terse way. "If he takes
the reins, everything at Burgsdorf will go topsy-turvy. Nothing else is
left for me to do but to go there myself and look after things right."

"How? You would?" cried Willibald. But his mother cut him short.

"Do you think I would let your possessions go to nothing while you are
in the war? It will be securely cared for in my hands--you know that. I
have held the reins there long enough and will do it again--until you
return."

She still spoke in the hard, cold tones, as if she wished to exclude
every warmer feeling. But now Willy stepped up to her, with his arm
still around his bride-elect.

"You will take care of my worldly possessions, mamma," he said,
reproachfully; "you will take them under your protection. But for the
best and dearest thing that belongs to me you have no word nor look.
Have you really only come to tell me that you will go to Burgsdorf?"

Fran von Eschenhagen's harsh reticence could not hold fast at this
question. Her lips trembled.

"I came to see my only son once more before he goes to war--perhaps to
death," she said, with painful bitterness. "I had to hear from others
that he had come to say farewell to his bride. He did not come to his
mother, and that--that I could not bear."

"We should have come," cried the young lord; "we should have made one
more attempt to win your heart before leaving. See, mother, here is my
bride-elect--my Marietta. She is waiting for a friendly word from you."

Regine threw a long look upon the young couple, and again her face
quivered painfully as she saw how Marietta pressed shyly, but
confidently, to the man in whose protection she knew herself so secure.
Maternal jealousy stood a last, hard struggle; but finally she allowed
herself to be conquered. She stretched out her hand to the young girl.

"I offended you once, Marietta," she said, in a half-stifled voice,
"and did you a possible wrong that time; but for that you have taken
from me my boy, who, until then, had not loved anybody but his mother,
and who now loves nobody but you. I believe we are quits."

"Oh, Willy loves his mother as dearly as ever," Marietta said heartily.
"I best know how he has suffered under the separation."

"So? Well, we will have to agree with each other for his sake," said
Regine, with an attempt at playfulness, which did not quite succeed.
"We shall be in a great deal of anxiety about him soon, when we know
him in the battlefield; care, anxiety, will be plentiful then. What do
you think, my child? I believe we could bear it easier if we worry
about him together."

She opened her arms, and the next second Marietta lay sobbing upon her
breast. Tears glittered also in the eyes of the mother when she bent
down to kiss her future daughter-in-law; but then she said in the old,
commanding tone: "Do not cry; hold up your head, Marietta, for a
soldier's fiancée must be brave--remember that."

"A soldier's wife," corrected Willibald, who stood by with beaming
eyes. "We have just now decided to be married before I leave."

"Well, then, Marietta really belongs to Burgsdorf," declared Regine,
who was hardly surprised, and seemed to find this decision quite in
order. "No arguments, child. The young Frau von Eschenhagen has nothing
to do further at Waldhofen, except as she comes for a visit to her
grandfather. Or are you perhaps afraid of your grim mother-in-law? But
I believe you have in him"--she pointed to her son--"a sufficient
protection, even if he is not at home. He would be capable of declaring
war upon his own mother if she did not bear his little wife upon her
hands."

"And she will do that, I know it. When my mother opens her heart, she
does it perfectly."

"Yes, now you can flatter," Frau von Eschenhagen said, with a rebuking
glance. "So you go with me to your future home, Marietta. You need not
worry about the duties; I will attend to that. When I go away again it
will be different; but I see already that Willy will hold you like a
princess all your life long. It is right with me, just so he returns to
us safe and sound."

She reached out her hands now to her son, and those two had perhaps
never been in a closer or more loving embrace than to-day.

When the three entered the house, a quarter of an hour later, they met
the Chief Forester, who actually started back at the sight of his
sister-in-law. Regine marked his surprise with the liveliest
satisfaction.

"Well, Moritz, am I still the most unreasonable, obstinate person?" she
asked, offering her hand. But Schonan, who had not recovered from his
jilting, kept his behind him, and muttered something incomprehensible.
Then he turned to the young couple:

"So? And now you are to be married in hot haste. I met Dr. Volkmar just
now and he told me about it; so I came to offer myself as best man. But
perhaps that will not be acceptable, since the Frau Mamma is at her
post."

"Oh, you are just as cordially welcome, uncle," cried Willibald.

"Well, yes, I can just be used as a secondary person in a marriage,"
grumbled the Chief Forester, with a reproachful glance at Regine. "And
so there will be a marriage before the war? One must say, Willy, you
have marched with seven-league boots from your practical Burgsdorf into
romance, and I should never have looked for it in you. However, my Toni
is just as intent upon romance. She and Waldorf would have liked best
to marry like this in steaming haste before marching orders came, but I
have vetoed that, for circumstances are different with us, and I do not
care to already sit at home, lonely as an owl."

He glanced again with the very grimmest expression at Frau von
Eschenhagen, but she approached him now, and said, cordially: "Do not
bear malice, Moritz. So far we have always made up again. Let us forget
this quarrel also. You see, at least, that I can say 'Yes' for once,
when the whole happiness of my boy depends upon it."

The Chief Forester hesitated a moment longer, then grasped the offered
hand and pressed it cordially. "I see it," he acknowledged, "and
perhaps you will now forget altogether that blamed 'No,' Regine, about
another point."

                            CHAPTER XLVIII.

The Steward of Rodeck stood in the study of Prince Adelsberg's palace,
in the Residenz. He had been called there to receive various orders and
plans before the departure of his young lord.

Egon, who already wore the uniform of his regiment, had given him
verbal instructions, and now dismissed the old man.

"Keep the old forest nook in good order for me as heretofore," he
concluded. "It is just possible that I may go to Rodeck for a few hours
before I leave, but I hardly believe so, for the order to march may
come any day. How do I please you in my uniform?"

He arose and drew himself up to his full height. The slender, youthful
form looked well in the uniform of a lieutenant, and Stadinger measured
him with admiring eyes.

"Real splendid!" he assured the Prince. "It is a pity that Your
Highness is not a soldier by profession."

"Do you think so? Well, I am one now, body and soul. Service in the
field will come rather hard to me, and I will have to get used to it
first. But it does not hurt when one is under strict discipline."

"No, Your Highness, it will not hurt you at all," remarked Stadinger,
with his terrible truthfulness. "When Your Highness travels about for
years in the Orient with a great sea serpent and a whole herd of
elephants, or when you run away from the most gracious Court at Ostend
because you do not want to marry at all--nothing comes of that but
only----"

"But only stupidity," completed the Prince, wisely. "Stadinger, I shall
severely miss one thing in the campaign--your boundless tiresomeness.
You want to give me a last curtain lecture--I see it in your face--but
will spare you the trouble. Remember me rather to Lena when you get
home. Is she back at Rodeck now?"

"Yes, Your Highness, _now_ she is there," said the old man, with heavy
emphasis.

"Of course, because I march to France. But be content; I shall return a
genuine model of sense and virtue, and then--then I shall marry, too."

"Really?" Stadinger cried in joyful surprise. "How glad the most
gracious Court will be."

"That depends," teased Egon. "I may terrorize the most gracious Court
with my engagement, and perhaps inflict cramps upon my most gracious
Aunt Sophie with it. Don't look so stupid at this, Stadinger. You don't
understand it, but I will permit you to crack your head over it
during the campaign. But now go, and if we should not see each other
again--keep your master in pleasant remembrance."

Stadinger's face took on the grimmest of wrinkles to hide the upwelling
tears, but he could not succeed.

"How can Your Highness talk like that?" he muttered. "Shall I, an old
man, remain perhaps alone in this world, and not see you any more--so
handsome so young and happy! I could not live at that."

"And I have vexed you so much, old Waldgeist," said the young Prince,
giving him his hand; "but you are right--we must think of victory and
not death. But, when both come together, then death is easy."

The old man bent over his master's hand, and a tear fell upon it.

"I wish I could go, too," he said, under his breath.

"I believe it," laughed Egon; "and you would not look bad as a soldier,
in spite of your snow-white hair. But we younger ones have to march
now, and you old ones remain at home. Farewell, Stadinger----" He shook
his hand cordially. "I really believe you are crying. You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. Away with tears and sad anticipations. You will
yet read me another lecture."

"May God grant it!" sighed Peter Stadinger, from the depths of his
heart. With wet eyes he looked once more into the youthful face, so
full of life, smiling at him, so happy and sure of victory. Then he
left sadly, with bowed head, realizing how much his young master had
grown into his heart.

The Prince cast a glance at the clock. He was to go to his superior,
but saw that he had almost an hour yet, so he reached for the
newspapers and plunged into the newest dispatches and reports.

A rapid footstep sounded in the ante-room. Egon looked up in surprise.
Servants were not in the habit of making such a noise, and callers were
always announced. But this caller did not need any announcing, as all
the servants knew. All doors were open to him in the house of Prince
Adelsberg.

"Hartmut, is it you?"

Egon sprang to his feet in joyful surprise, and cast himself on the
breast of the newcomer.

"You back in Germany, and I have no idea of it! You wicked monster, to
leave me for fully two months without news of you! Have you come to say
good-by to me?"

Hartmut had neither returned the greeting nor the stormy embrace.
Silently and gloomily he suffered both, and when he spoke at last, even
his tone betrayed nothing of the joy of this _Wiedersehen_.

"I came straight from the depot. I hardly dared hope to find you still
here, and yet everything depends upon it for me."

"But why did you not announce your return to me? I wrote you
immediately after the declaration of war. You were still in Sicily
then, were you not?"

"No; I left there as soon as war seemed unavoidable, and did not
receive your letter. I have been in Germany a week."

"And you come to me only now?" said Egon, reproachfully.

Rojanow did not notice this reproach. His eyes rested upon his friend's
uniform with almost a jealous expression.

"You are already on duty, I see," he said, hastily. "I also intend to
enter the German army."

Egon evidently expected something entirely different. He retreated a
step in boundless surprise.

"In the German army? You--a Roumanian?"

"Yes, and therefore I have come to you. Will you make it possible for
me?"

"I?" asked the Prince, whose surprise grew greater and greater. "I am
nothing more than a young officer. If you are really in earnest in this
strange resolve, you must go to one of the standing posts of command."

"I have already done that at various places. I have tried it even in
your neighboring state, but they will not accept the stranger. They
demand all sorts of papers and references, which I do not possess, and
torture me with endless questions. Everywhere suspicion and mistrust
affront me. Nobody will understand my resolve."

"To speak the truth, Hartmut, I don't understand it, either," said
Egon, solemnly. "You have always showed such a deep antipathy to
Germany--you are the son of a country whose higher circles know only
French education and customs--which stands in sympathy exclusively with
France. The mistrust of strangers is easily understood. But why do you
not turn directly to the Duke, and personally accomplish your desires?
You know how prepossessed he is with the poet of 'Arivana.' It will
cost you only an audience, which will be granted you at any time, and
an order from him will remove every difficulty and admit every
exception."

Rojanow's glance fell, and his clouded brow grew darker as he replied:
"I know that, but I cannot ask anything from that side. The Duke would
put the same questions as all the rest, and I could not withhold the
answer from him, and the truth--I cannot tell it to him."

"Not even to me?" asked the Prince, stepping up to him and laying his
hand on Hartmut's shoulder. "Why do you insist so persistently upon
entering our army? What do you look for under our colors?"

Hartmut passed his hand across his brow, as if to wipe something away
from there. Then he replied, heavily and huskily:

"Salvation--or death."

"You return as you went--a puzzle," said Egon, shaking his head. "You
have hitherto refused every explanation. Can I not now learn your
secret?"

"Obtain me an entrance into your army, and I will tell you everything,"
Rojanow cried in feverish excitement. "No matter under what conditions,
only see that it is granted me. But do not speak to the Duke nor to a
general, but turn to one of the lower commanders. Your name, your
relationship with the reigning house makes your word powerful. They
will not answer Prince Adelsberg with a 'No' when he himself speaks for
a volunteer."

"But the same question will be put to him as to you--you, a Roumanian."

"No, no," cried Hartmut, passionately. "If I must confess it to you--I
am a German."

The effect of this disclosure was not as great as Hartmut might have
feared. The Prince looked at him for a moment, amazed.

"I have thought so at times, for the one who could compose an Arivana
in the German language did not get this language by education, but had
grown up with it. But you bear the name Rojanow----"

"The name of my mother, who belonged to a Roumanian--Bojar's family. My
name is--Hartmut von Falkenried."

His own name sounded strange in his ears, for he had not pronounced it
for years; but Egon grew attentive at the name.

"Falkenried? That was the name of the Prussian Colonel who came on that
secret mission from Berlin. Are you any connection of his?"

"He is my father."

The young Prince looked compassionately upon his friend, for he saw how
terribly hard this confession came to him. He felt that a family drama
was hidden here, and, too delicate to investigate further, he only
asked: "And you do not want to proclaim yourself the son of your
father, not a Falkenried? Every Prussian regiment would be open to you
then."

"No, they would be closed to me forever. I fled from the cadets' school
ten years ago."

"Hartmut!" Absolute terror was in the exclamation.

"Do you also, like my father, consider me worthy of death for it? You,
of course, have grown up in freedom and have no conception of the iron
rule which reigns in these institutions; of the tyranny with which one
is bent under the yoke of blind obedience. I could not stand it. I was
forced to freedom and light. I begged--entreated my father--but in
vain. He held me fast in the chain--when I broke it, and fled with my
mother."

He uttered this, all with wild, desperate defiance; but his eyes rested
anxiously upon the face of his listener. His father, with his severe
ideas of honor, had sentenced him; but his friend, who idolized him,
who in passionate enthusiasm admired his genius and all that he did--he
_must_ understand the necessity of his step. But this friend was
silent, and in this silence lay the sentence.

                             CHAPTER XLIX.

"You too, Egon?"

In the tone of the questioner who waited several minutes in vain for an
answer, there lay deep bitterness. "And you too, Egon, who have so
often told me that nothing should hamper the flight of the poet; that
he must break the fetters which would hold him to the ground. I did
that--and you would have done the same."

The Prince drew himself up with the firmness of decision.

"No, Hartmut; you are mistaken there. Perhaps I should have fled from a
strict school, but from the colors--never!"

Here it was again--the harsh words which he had already heard once
before--"fled from the colors." It forced the blood to his brow again.

"Why did you not become an officer?" continued Egon. "You could
have become one early at your home; you could have taken your leave
then at an age when life only commences. Then you would have been
free--honorably."

Hartmut was silent. His father had told him the same, but he had not
wanted to wait and submit himself to rules. A barrier had stood in his
way, and he simply threw it down unconcernedly. But he threw down duty
and honor with it.

"You do not know all that stormed upon me at that time," he replied,
heavily. "My mother--I do not wish to accuse her--but she has been my
doom. My father had separated from her in early life. I thought her
dead, when suddenly she entered my life and snatched me to her with her
burning mother love--with her promise of freedom and happiness. She
alone is responsible for that unfortunate breaking of my word----"

"What word?" interrupted Egon, excitedly. "Had you sworn to the
standard?"

"No, but I had given my father my word to return when he allowed me the
last conversation with my mother----"

"Instead of which you fled with her?"

"Yes."

The answer was almost inaudible and was followed by a long pause. The
Prince spoke never a word; but in his open, sunny face deep, bitter
pain was depicted--the bitterest of his life, for at this moment he
lost his so passionately loved friend.

At last Hartmut resumed, but he did not raise his eyes. "You understand
now why I want to force an entrance into the army at any price. Now
that war has broken out, the man can atone for the boy's sin. Therefore
I left Sicily immediately after the first threatening news, and flew as
in a storm to Germany. I hoped to be able to hasten to arms. I had no
idea of all the difficulties and hindrances which would be put in my
way. But you can put them aside, if you intercede for me."

"No, I cannot do that," said Egon, coldly. "After what I have heard
just now, this is impossible."

Hartmut turned deathly white and stepped up close to Egon with a
vehement gesture.

"You cannot? That means--you will not?"

The Prince was silent.

"Egon!" Wild, stormy entreaty was in the tone. "You know I have never
made a request of you--this is the first and last one. But now I
beg--entreat you for this friendly service. It is the relief from the
doom which has hung over me since that hour. The reconciliation with my
father--the reconciliation with myself--you must help me!"

"I cannot," repeated the Prince. "The rejection to which you have been
subjected may hurt you deeply--I believe it--but it is only just. You
have broken with your fatherland--with your duties--and that cannot be
mended so easily without anything further, when one has become of a
different opinion. You fled from the service of our standard--you, the
son of an officer! Now the army is closed to you, and you must bear
it."

"And you tell me that so calmly--so coldly!" cried Hartmut, beside