The time passed with incredible swiftness for all save for poor Herr von Hahn. Celia had so much to say to her lover that when Lucie reminded her that it was time to return she begged for "one more quarter of an hour, dearest Anna!" and was only pacified by the permission given to Kurt to accompany her to-day on the walk back to the castle.
Thus all turned their faces towards home. Celia wished the road were miles long. She went first with Kurt, and Lucie and her father with the Assessor followed them. The lovers paused at the gate of the court-yard; Kurt could go no farther. As Celia was looking back for Anna, her attention was diverted by the noise of a vehicle, and through an opposite entrance came a carriage that drew up before the steps leading into the castle hall. Two gentlemen descended from it,--one was Werner, the other an entire stranger to Celia "Anna," the girl said to her friend, who was still too far off to look into the interior of the court-yard, "Werner has come, and he is not alone,--there is a stranger with him."
The intelligence did not startle Lucie; she had feared that the Finanzrath and Repuin would reach the castle before her, but in another instant she stood by Celia's side, and recognized in the stranger not Repuin, but her miserable husband.
"Sorr is there himself; you will not now return to the castle?" her father, who instantly recognized his son-in-law, asked.
Lucie did not reply; she was too much dismayed to appreciate at first the result which a meeting with her husband in Castle Hohenwald might bring about.
"I yielded to your wish," said Herr Ahlborn, "when I supposed that Count Repuin would be the Finanzrath's companion; but since Sorr himself is here, doubtless with the intention of asserting a husband's rights, you must not lose a moment, but must follow me instantly."
"Only let me say one word of farewell, father."
"No, you must not expose yourself to such peril."
"What will the Freiherr think of me if I fly thus without a word? Herr von Sorr will not venture to malign me if I confront him in the Baron's presence."
"But he will demand his rights, and, in spite of his baseness, he has the law upon his side. You owe it to me, your father, as well as to yourself, to come with me. Fräulein Cecilia will carry your farewell to her father, and you can soon write to him and explain everything."
All that Celia, standing by in utter amazement at the words exchanged between father and daughter, could understand was, that the stranger with Werner, whom they called Sorr, threatened Anna with great danger, from which her father was entreating her to fly, and that her friend was unwilling to leave the castle without a word of farewell. Celia had often pondered the mystery of her friend's past, and was firmly convinced that whatever it might be Anna never could have been to blame.
"What are you saying?" the girl exclaimed, in great agitation. "Are you talking of leaving Castle Hohenwald without one word of farewell to dear papa and Arno? Oh, no, Anna! Indeed, you must not think of doing so. Whatever may be the evil intent of Werner and his companion, papa and Arno will know how to protect you."
"Fräulein Cecilia, do you really love my daughter?" Ahlborn asked, earnestly.
"Do I love her?" the girl rejoined. "She is my dearest friend. I owe to her all the happiness of my life." And her glance sought Kurt.
"Then, if you really love her, you will not try to persuade her to enter the castle, when I assure you solemnly that she will by so doing imperil the happiness of her life. Trust me, I implore you. You shall soon hear from us and learn all that want of time now forces us to conceal. Everything depends upon her leaving here with me without a moment's delay. Would you yet persuade her to remain?"
"No! no! you shall not stay, my darling Anna!" the girl exclaimed, more impressed by the old man's tone and manner than by his words. "If your happiness is at stake never think of us. I do not know how I shall live without you now that Kurt and Arno are both going to leave us, but not for worlds would I keep you. Go with your father, and I will tell papa how sorry you are not to say good-bye to him, and that you will soon write and explain everything."
Lucie was deeply agitated. Her heart rebelled at the thought of leaving the castle thus, but her reason told her that it was her only chance of safety, and she yielded to Celia's unselfish entreaty. At Herr Ahlborn's request the girl promised not to acquaint her father with Fräulein Müller's secret departure until late in the evening, and to state in answer to any inquiries concerning her that she had complained of headache and had gone to take a solitary walk.
The friends then took leave of each other with many tears, and Lucie, with her father and the Assessor, struck into the foot-path leading through the forest and village of Hohenwald to Grünhagen. Kurt lingered for one moment for a last embrace of his darling, and then, joining Lucie, walked silently by her side.
Lost in thoughts of Hohenwald and of what Arno would say when he heard of her flight, Lucie walked on swiftly. Suddenly she paused with a thrill of delighted surprise, for he of whom she was thinking stood before her.
Arno was on his way from the village of Hohenwald, and owing to the windings of the path was close beside the two gentlemen, who were in front of Kurt and Lucie, before he saw them. His surprise was great on beholding the Assessor, with whom he had formerly been slightly acquainted, and who now bowed profoundly, while his elderly companion accorded him a reluctant greeting by slightly raising his hat. Arno was about to accost them when he perceived, to his still greater astonishment, at some little distance, Fräulein Müller accompanied by Herr von Poseneck.
There had been another meeting in the forest, then. It had doubtless been arranged in the letter that had aroused his jealousy. His soul was filled with bitterness. How great had been his folly in trusting Anna's words rather than his own eyes! How she must have smiled at his futile irritation when she persisted in reiterating Poseneck's praises! What did she mean now? She suddenly stood still as she perceived him, and on her lovely face there dawned a brilliant smile as she held out to him both her hands. "What an unexpected pleasure!" she exclaimed.
He did not take her proffered hands, and would have passed on with a bow, but this she prevented. She took his hand. "We must not part thus, Herr Baron," she said, with so kindly a look that in a moment his bitter mood was changed; he carried her hand tenderly to his lips, and she did not withdraw it.
"You are displeased with me, Herr Baron," Lucie continued; "but you do me great injustice. Now that I see you I can in some measure explain the grief that my hasty departure from the castle causes me. I told my father--but you do not know my dearest father yet. This, father dear, is the Baron Arno von Hohenwald."
Herr Ahlborn was by no means pleased at this meeting in the forest; it must lead to explanations which he would fain have avoided. He uttered a few phrases of conventional courtesy, and regretted that the necessity for reaching A---- that very evening would prevent any prolongation of the interview. "I shall not fail," he added, "to communicate shortly by letter the reasons which make my daughter's sudden departure from Castle Hohenwald an imperative necessity."
All that Arno gathered from this was the fact--and it filled him with dismay--that Anna was to leave Hohenwald. "What!" he cried, "are you going, going to desert my father and Celia at the hour of their sorest need? No, Fräulein Müller, I cannot believe this. Tell me you will remain. My infirm old father and Celia cannot do without you, and I--but no, I will not speak of myself, of the wretchedness that the thought of not finding you here upon my return from the war would cause me. I will plead only for my father and Celia. Stay with us! do not forsake us!"
"It must not be. I cannot!" Lucie replied, in much agitation.
"Every moment is precious!" Ahlborn exclaimed, impatiently. "Farewell, Herr Baron! Lucie, take my arm."
"No, father; you must grant me a few minutes of private conversation with Baron von Hohenwald. I owe him some explanation of my conduct."
"Lucie, take care!"
"It must be, father; I cannot help it. I will follow you in a few minutes."
"You are your own mistress," Ahlborn rejoined, grumblingly. "You must do as you please, only I implore you to remember the danger that lies in delay."
He touched his hat to Arno, and then taking the Assessor's arm and accompanied by Kurt, he pursued the path until one of its windings screened Lucie and the Baron from their sight, when they paused and waited.
Lucie left alone with Arno, resolved not to leave him until she had justified herself in his eyes, and yet she was irresolute how to begin. Her cheeks glowed with shame at the idea of imparting to him the sad mystery of her life, and yet the precious minutes were flying; something must be said immediately.
"And you are really going to leave us?"
This simple question from Arno broke the silence and relieved Lucie's hesitation. "I must, Herr Baron," she replied. "I had hoped to find a home in Castle Hohenwald, but a sad fate has snatched it from me."
"Am I the cause of your flight?" Arno eagerly asked. "Do you so dread the few hours that are all I can yet pass in the castle? I leave it to-morrow. Do you hate me so bitterly?"
"I do not hate you," Lucie gently replied. And in her candid eyes, in the pressure of the little hand that still rested in his, Arno saw that she spoke the truth. "You are not the cause of my leaving Hohenwald. Your brother, who is now at the castle, will tell you the reasons for my flight."
"Werner? You have confided, then, in him?"
"No; an unfortunate chance betrayed to him my sad secret, and he has made sad use of it. Even without his interference I should have followed my father, who is restored to me after years of hopeless separation, but I should not have been forced to steal away thus, like a criminal, without one word of farewell to your father, who has treated me with such paternal kindness."
"You speak in riddles. I do not comprehend you."
"I will solve them for you," Lucie sadly replied. "You will comprehend all when I tell you that the man whom your brother has just introduced at Castle Hohenwald is the cause of my misfortunes, is my miserable husband, Herr von Sorr!"
Arno fairly staggered beneath the blow; he dropped Lucie's hand and gazed at her in horror. "You are--you--you are----"
He could not finish the sentence; hope seemed slain within him; his future was a blank.
"Do not be angry with me," Lucie said, taking his hand again. "I implore you not to be angry with me. I am so wretchedly unhappy. I could not part from you without telling you the whole truth. I have longed to do this so often, and I have bitterly repented ever coming to Hohenwald under a feigned name."
"Lucie, we are waiting!" Ahlborn called from the distance.
"Must I leave you without one word of forgiveness from you?" Lucie continued. She still held Arno's hand in hers and gazed at him with eyes of sad entreaty. Hitherto she had suppressed all expression of her sentiments towards him. Never in the intercourse of daily life at Hohenwald had she for an instant relaxed in the stern watch and ward that she kept over every gesture, every look that might encourage any hope in his mind. But this was a supreme moment; they were parting forever, and her heart clamoured for its rights.
Arno was profoundly agitated. Heart and mind were filled with tumult. Anna the wife of a wretch from whom she was forced to flee! He suddenly comprehended why she had denied him all hope; and now, as he looked into her imploring eyes and felt the soft pressure of her hand, the thought thrilled him with sudden ecstasy that she returned his love, that her lips and not her heart had rejected his affection, that she had but fulfilled a duty. He drew her closer to him, and for an instant, with a burning blush, she yielded to his embrace.
"Lucie! Lucie!" came Ahlborn's warning voice, in more impatient tones than before.
"You love me!" Arno whispered, all else forgotten in the overwhelming bliss of the moment.
Lucie extricated herself from his embrace. "We must part!" she said, sadly. "Fate divides us forever, but in this last sad moment let me implore you never to lose confidence in me, whatever you may hear upon your return to the castle!"
"Lucie! it is time we were gone!"
"I must go. We must part," she said. Once more Arno clasped her to his heart and kissed her passionately. She did not resist, but in an instant turned and hurried to her father. As she reached the winding in the pathway she turned, waved her hand, and then vanished in the forest.
Arno gazed after her like one in a dream, conscious only that just at the moment when the blissful certainty was his that she returned his love, she was lost to him forever. She was the wife of another, and Werner, his brother, had brought to Castle Hohenwald that other, her unworthy husband, from whom she had been forced to flee under a feigned name. In an instant he comprehended that it was his part to hasten to his father and espouse Lucie's cause. As he entered the castle garden he observed two persons walking to and fro on the terrace: one was his brother, the other then was Sorr.
The garden-walk wound among shrubbery, whence Arno could watch the man for a while without being perceived, and disgust stirred within him at the thought that a man so evidently steeped in low dissipation should be Anna's husband. He felt that he hated both him and Werner, who had brought him hither. Resolved to defend his love against them both, he soon reached the terrace.
Werner awaited his brother's approach, and intercepted his direct entrance to the garden-room. A malicious smile played about his lips as he laid his hand upon Arno's shoulder. "Are you in too great a hurry, Arno, to spare me a word of greeting when we have not seen each other for several days? I will only detain you for one moment, however, to present to you in Herr von Sorr a guest whom you will doubtless be glad to welcome when I tell you that he is so fortunate as to be the husband of the beautiful Frau von Sorr whom we have learned to know by another name. For reasons of which you shall be informed hereafter, Frau von Sorr thought fit to select our house for her abode under a feigned name. We know her as Fräulein Anna Müller."
Werner had arranged his sentence so that its conclusion should be a sudden revelation to his brother. He had exulted in the prospect of Arno's amazement and horror at the intelligence that Anna Müller was Sorr's wife, but to his astonishment his brother did not betray the slightest surprise, bestowing only a slight glance at the "guest," who, hat in hand, but in evident confusion, stammered various conventional phrases suitable, as he thought, to the occasion.
Werner could not understand Arno's unlooked-for composure, and when his brother coldly rejoined, "Frau von Sorr has already informed me of your bringing this gentleman to Hohenwald," he hastily exclaimed, "You have spoken with Frau von Sorr?"
"Not long ago."
"And she told you that I was at the castle with her husband?"
"Yes."
"She must have seen us then as we drove hither."
"Very probably."
"Why, then, does she not come to my father? She is evidently avoiding us. Where did you see her? My father has been waiting impatiently for her for more than half an hour."
"Indeed? Then it will gratify him to learn tidings of her."
And with these words Arno passed on into the garden-room; but in the doorway he observed that Werner and Sorr were following him; he paused therefore, and, barring the way, said, gravely, "The tidings that I bring of Fräulein Anna Müller are for my father's ear alone."
"Herr von Sorr certainly has a right to know where his wife is and what you have to say to my father with regard to her."
"The devil he has!" the Freiherr angrily exclaimed. "I told you before, Werner, that you are to remain out upon the terrace with your Herr von Sorr until I call you. No man in the world, and this Herr von Sorr least of all, has a right to hear what my son wishes to tell me alone. Understand that, Herr Finanzrath. Now go! I wish to be alone with Arno!"
Werner suppressed the angry retort that rose to his lips, and, withdrawing once more, paced the terrace impatiently with Sorr. He knew that when his father was as angry as at present there was nothing for it but to obey.
"What have you to tell me of Fräulein Anna? I will still call her by the name I love. I can hardly believe that she is the wife of that low-looking scoundrel," the Freiherr said, when Arno had taken his accustomed seat beside his chair.
His son as briefly and as simply as possible told of his interview with her in the forest,--how she had presented her father to him and told him that she was forced to flee from her unworthy husband. He also delivered Anna's farewell to the Freiherr, and her entreaty that no one would judge her harshly, but wait until a letter from her should explain all.
The old Baron interrupted his son frequently with exclamations of surprise and with questions, and when he had concluded, declared "It is a most extraordinary story, and I can make nothing of it; but I am glad you said nothing about her to those fellows outside, for Werner is evidently hand in glove with this precious Herr von Sorr. What they want I cannot imagine; perhaps you may guess when you hear that fellow's story." The Freiherr then related as briefly as he could the tale told him by Sorr, adding, finally, "I must do the man the justice to say that he acknowledged that he alone was to blame in his quarrel with his wife; he never accused her, and I might have put some faith in his protestations if it had not been for the scoundrelly hang-dog look of him. I don't believe one word of his repentance and change of life. There is a screw loose somewhere in his story about Count Repuin. If he had fought a duel with the Russian is it likely that Werner would bring his friend's mortal foe here? I had hoped to hear the truth from Fräulein Anna, but now that she has gone, what's to be done I don't know."
"Celia may tell us something."
"True, she may; that's an idea!" the Freiherr exclaimed. "She went with Anna into the forest. Go, Arno, and bring the child here."
Arno found Celia in her own room, and with difficulty persuaded her to accompany him to her father's presence; where, until Arno finally told her of his late interview with her dear Anna, she refused to give any information with regard to Fräulein Müller's disappearance. Then, however, she told the little that she knew; no more, indeed, than what Arno had already learned, that Anna was forced against her will to leave the castle instantly to escape a great peril, and that she would shortly write and explain all.
"We are no wiser than we were before," the Freiherr declared, when Celia had finished speaking. "We know that she has fled, but we do not know why or whither; there is some comfort in the thought that she is with her father, and the question now is, what is to be done with those two fellows outside. I must give them some answer." As he spoke, the Freiherr glanced towards Werner and Sorr, and observed to his surprise that they were no longer alone. A man, hat in hand, was handing Werner a letter. "Is that not Hesse, our old Inspector?" the Freiherr inquired of Arno. "Look, Arno, how agitated Werner seems; he must have received some important intelligence; yes, here he comes again, without waiting for a summons."
Werner, followed by Sorr, now hurriedly entered. "I can wait no longer, father," he said, approaching the Freiherr. "I must beg you to decide instantly. Important information which I have just received forces me to leave here immediately with Herr von Sorr. I trust Frau von Sorr will accompany us. Surely you will not deny a husband his rights,--will not compel him to have recourse to the law."
The Freiherr did not reply.
"I entreat you, sir, to delay no longer,--every moment is precious," Werner went on. "Any long stay here is fraught with peril for me."
"I will not delay you; go when you please."
"Shall I have come in vain? Will not Frau von Sorr accompany her husband?"
"I have no right to detain her."
"But you allow her to reside in the castle, while duty calls her to follow her husband. You sustain her in her disobedience to duty by permitting her to remain beneath your roof."
"What a shameful accusation!" Arno cried, indignantly, but his father interrupted him.
"Hush, Arno!" he said, authoritatively. "I will have no disputing between you brothers. My decision is made; I will not interfere between Herr von Sorr and his wife!"
"You will not shelter her, sir?" Werner asked.
"No!"
"Thank you. I expected no less of you."
A contemptuous smile played about the Freiherr's lips as he rejoined, "I am greatly flattered. Thus the whole matter is ended. You can find Frau von Sorr, and tell her from me that I can no longer permit her to stay in Castle Hohenwald. The rest is your affair, or rather that of Herr von Sorr, whom I must now beg to leave me. I am far from well, and will hear nothing further; therefore adieu to both of you. Find Frau von Sorr, compel her to go with her husband, or do what you please, only leave me in peace. Success to you, Herr von Sorr; adieu, Werner!"
The old man leaned back in his chair, and by an imperious wave of the hand dismissed his son.
Werner left the apartment, followed by Sorr, whose fulsome gratitude the Freiherr cut short by another impatient wave of the hand. As soon as they had left the room, Werner, still accompanied by Sorr, hurried first to the library where he hoped to find Lucie, and then up-stairs, where the maid informed them that Fräulein Müller had not been seen since four o'clock, when she had gone for a walk with Fräulein Celia; old Franz had searched both garden and park for her in vain.
Werner burst into a rage at this information of the maid's. "Arno saw her!" he exclaimed, when he was once more alone with Sorr in the castle court-yard. "He knows where she is, and must tell us where to find her." He then returned to the garden-room alone, leaving Sorr to await him in the court-yard. The reception he met with was of the coldest; his father swore he would not hear a word from him, Arno refused to answer any questions, and Celia continued her performance of one of her father's favourite sonatas without deigning even to look at him. He dared not linger longer in the castle,--there was nothing for it but to return to the court-yard, where the vehicle in which he had arrived stood ready for departure.
"We must go, Herr von Sorr," said Werner; "time flies. My father, brother, and sister are evidently in league with your wife; they know where she is, but utterly refuse to tell,--it would take hours to find her, and every moment is priceless."
"We cannot leave without my wife; I do not dare to confront Repuin without her."
"Then stay here; I am going," Werner resolutely declared. "I will not imperil my freedom by a fruitless search, and besides we may chance to meet her on our way. Will you come?" He opened the carriage-door and sprang in. Sorr hesitated a moment, and then followed him; the coachman whipped up his horses, and they galloped off at a rattling pace.
Not more than a quarter of an hour had elapsed when there appeared, on the road to the castle along which they had so lately passed, a mounted gendarme, preceding, by another quarter of an hour, an open barouche, in which sat three gentlemen, two officers and a civilian. Colonel von Schlichting, with his adjutant, Lieutenant von Styrum, and the famous, or, as some would have it, the notorious police official, the Geheimrath Steuber, from Berlin; a second civilian, his assistant, sat on the box beside the coachman.
The gendarme, when in sight of the castle, awaited the barouche, behind which came a detachment of mounted dragoons, and reported that he had seen nothing suspicious, no carriage either going towards or coming from the castle.
"The birds are probably not yet flown," the Geheimrath said, rubbing his hands and chuckling. "The castle can be approached only in this direction. I was afraid upon learning at the station that immediately after our arrival a carriage and a horseman had left it at full speed that they might have got wind of our coming, but now I rather think we shall find the entire band of conspirators, including Count Repuin, together."
The Geheimrath was evidently elated at the prospect of a good haul. There was a smile upon his ugly face, which, to Count Styrum, made it look uglier still, and his view was shared by Count Schlichting. Both officers were fulfilling a disagreeable duty; they had received their orders from the highest authority, and were instructed if the arrest of the Freiherr von Hohenwald were really unavoidable, to proceed with the greatest caution and delicacy. Count Schlichting and Count Styrum, the latter of whom was but just re-admitted to military service, had personally been informed by their august commander how painful it was to him to issue orders for a search of Castle Hohenwald, which might result in the arrest of the Freiherr and his son Arno in addition to that of the Finanzrath and Count Repuin, which had already been ordered. Stern necessity alone had overcome considerations which would else have prevailed even with the highest authorities, and both search and arrests were confided to the charge of the famous Geheimrath, who was at the head of all investigations of the treasonable combinations still existing after war had been declared. Thus the police official was, in fact, the leader of this expedition to Hohenwald, although for form's sake he appeared as the colonel's assistant, and this galled the old soldier, for the Geheimrath's past was more than questionable; he owed his lofty position entirely to his cunning. Schlichting would gladly have replied harshly to the exultation of the man who, with his old, wrinkled face and large, prominent eyes glaring through round spectacle-glasses, looked like nothing so much as a malicious and evil-minded kobold, but considerations of duty kept him silent. Styrum, however, felt bound by no such considerations, and when the Geheimrath went so far as to stigmatize all the inmates of the castle as conspirators he indignantly repeated the obnoxious word, and added, in a deeply offended tone, "You would do well, Herr Geheimrath, to be better informed before you apply such an epithet to the old Freiherr von Hohenwald or to my comrade and friend, the Freiherr Arno. As to the latter, I can vouch for his patriotism and devotion to his country; he is incapable of treason, and there is nothing but unfounded rumour, so far as I can learn, that can cause you to regard the old Freiherr as a conspirator."
The colonel nodded approvingly to the younger officer, while the Geheimrath looked at him with a smile half of pity and half of contempt as he replied, "It is the privilege of youth to trust and to hope; you must not wonder, however, that with my experience I am readier to believe in guilt than in innocence. This, however, shall not prevent me from searching with equal vigilance for proof of the innocence as well as of the guilt of those under suspicion. If your friend is, as you believe, innocent, his fate is in good hands; I am terrible only for the guilty."
"And you believe that Baron Arno may be guilty?"
"I believe nothing, Herr Count. I only know that there are incontestable proofs that the Finanzrath von Hohenwald has treasonable relations with Count Repuin and other French agents; that he has employed leave of absence granted him from official duty to make various expeditions from Castle Hohenwald to the large South German cities, always returning thither again, and that in his letters he has expressed the hope of winning over his father and brother to what he calls the 'good cause.' I know further that he has lately developed a feverish activity, and that this very morning he arrived at Station A---- in company with Count Repuin, the most dangerous of all the French agents, doubtless intending to visit Castle Hohenwald in order to mature with their associates those arrangements that cannot be confided to paper. Therefore you must not be offended, Herr Count, if an old police official makes use of the word 'conspirator' in designating these associates. If your friend Baron Arno is no conspirator so much the better, but at present his case has an ugly look, and I must warn you both, gentlemen, not to allow your belief in his innocence to betray you into any action detrimental to the success of our expedition hither."
"We know our duty, and need no reminder that it is to be fulfilled," the colonel haughtily replied.
"I am convinced of it, and beg to assure you that no 'reminder' was intended," Steuber rejoined, after which, leaning back in the carriage, he made no further attempts at conversation.
Arrived in the castle court-yard, the Geheimrath sprang out of the barouche with youthful agility, and after a few whispered words to his assistant, requested the colonel, who followed him somewhat less briskly, to place guards at every point of egress from the castle into the garden, and then to present him to the Freiherr von Hohenwald. "The sooner the search is begun," he added, "the more secure we are of results."
With the best grace he could muster the colonel ordered Styrum to place guards as required.
Meanwhile, old Franz, hearing the clatter of the horses upon the stones of the court-yard, made his appearance, staring in dismay at the strangers who dared, against his master's commands, thus to invade Castle Hohenwald.
"We wish to speak with the Herr Freiherr von Hohenwald. Conduct us to your master!"
Franz gazed open-mouthed at the man who uttered these words in an imperious tone. What, show a stranger into his master's room unannounced, and no permission asked! It was inconceivable.
"The Herr Baron cannot see any one."
"He will see us!"
"No; the Herr Baron has expressly ordered that no strangers are to be announced."
"You are not to announce us, but to conduct us to him!" And as he spoke, the man with the spectacles had so threatening an air that old Franz felt constrained to obey. "This way, then!" he said, sullenly, leading the way to the garden-room, followed by the colonel and the Geheimrath.
Fatigued and agitated, after Werner's departure the old Freiherr lay wearily back in his rolling-chair, his thoughts busy with Anna, who had so often sung him the very song that Celia was now beginning to play on the piano. Arno sat beside him silent and sad, listening to his sister's charming rendering of the well-known melody.
"It is past; and all is so different from what I had hoped," the Freiherr said, after a long pause, taking his son's hand and pressing it. "She has left us, and all my hopes are crushed."
"What were your hopes, father?"
"It is useless to speak of them." Another pause ensued; the old Baron sadly gazing at his son, who was again lost in thought. Then he spoke once more, "Tell me frankly, Arno, am I wrong in thinking that our Anna had grown very dear to you?"
At this unexpected question Arno hastily started from his seat, and paced the apartment to and fro, then paused and confronted his father. "Why ask such a question?" he said, reproachfully. "What is to you, father, or to any one, whether I loved or hated her? Our Anna, do you call her? Have you forgotten that she is the wife of that wretch whom Werner has chosen for his friend? She is Frau von Sorr! Do you know, father, that at times I think the thought will drive me mad!"
"I thought so!" the old Baron rejoined, taking his son's hand as he stood before him. "It has been so great a pleasure to me to watch you during these last few weeks. My Arno will be happy after all, I thought. I dreamed of her as the lovely mistress of Hohenwald, and now--now it is all over."
Arno did not reply. Again he paced the room restlessly to and fro, never heeding the unusual bustle that had arisen in the court-yard.
The Freiherr too was only aroused from his brooding reverie by the sound of footsteps in the hall and the sudden flinging wide of the doors to admit Count Schlichting, followed by the Geheimrath Steuber, while almost at the same moment steps resounded upon the terrace, and two dragoons with drawn sabres stationed themselves at the glass door leading to the garden. At this sight the old Baron's sadness was converted into violent anger. "Thunder and lightning, Franz! How dare you introduce visitors unannounced!" he exclaimed, furiously, to the old servant, who stood in the doorway quite uncertain which to fear more, his master or the terrible man in spectacles.
"Don't scold your servant, old friend," said Count Schlichting, approaching the Freiherr's rolling-chair and taking his reluctant hand. "He conducted myself and this gentleman hither only upon compulsion. And we do not intrude voluntarily upon your seclusion, but in obedience to an august command, which, I am sure, will be respected by the Freiherr von Hohenwald."
The Freiherr gazed at the colonel with flashing eyes. He had not seen him for more than fifteen years, and had not at first recognized him. Now he remembered his old friend well, but his anger was not diminished thereby, and he had to put the greatest restraint upon himself to suppress another outbreak. He looked from the colonel to the Geheimrath, and then out upon the terrace at the two dragoons stationed there, and the case suddenly became clear to him. He was not surprised that suspicion should attach to him in consequence of Werner's intrigues. True, he had never contemplated being arrested, but his anger died away when he reflected that the colonel was merely fulfilling his duty as a soldier, and he had no fear of consequences, for he was conscious of his innocence.
Quickly regaining his composure, he returned the pressure of the colonel's hand and said, "Those two blue fellows out there explain the 'august command' which brings my old friend here. It is not your fault that you must fulfil your duty, which, however, may perhaps allow you to inform me why the Freiherr von Hohenwald is arrested in his own castle."
"Not quite that yet, old friend,--no fear of that," the colonel replied, kindly. "My orders certainly are to arrest the Finanzrath, your eldest son, and Count Repuin, your guest, and to assist this gentleman, the Geheimrath Steuber, from Berlin, in the execution of his orders, which are to search the castle for treasonable matter. Until this is over I must indeed beg you not to leave this room."
"A request with which I shall have no difficulty in complying, since I am, as you see, confined to my rolling-chair," the Freiherr replied, with a smile.
"I see it with regret; but this gentleman also,--Baron Arno von Hohenwald, if I do not mistake,"--Arno bowed in silence,--"and the young lady,"--the colonel greeted Celia with chivalrous courtesy,--"I must entreat to remain here until my disagreeable duty is finished. The first and hardest part of it, unfortunately, concerns your eldest son and Count Repuin, for whom I am forced to make search."
"It will be fruitless," the Freiherr quietly replied. "My son Werner was in the castle, but he left it more than half an hour ago. Count Repuin I do not know. He has never been my guest."
"That is not true!" the Geheimrath exclaimed. "The Count certainly accompanied the Finanzrath to Hohenwald,--both must be concealed in the castle!"
"Sir! how dare you accuse me of falsehood!" the Freiherr burst out; but the colonel laid his hand upon the old man's shoulder and said, kindly, "Be calm, old friend. The Herr Geheimrath has in his zeal for duty made use of a wrong expression. He cannot mean to accuse of falsehood a nobleman whom he has been ordered to treat with the greatest consideration. He will apologize for his error."
This the Geheimrath immediately did, conscious that he was in the wrong, and never reluctant to make use of smooth words. Nevertheless he maintained that both the Finanzrath and Repuin were probably still in the castle, although without the Freiherr's knowledge. He chose his apologetic phrases so well that the old Baron was entirely appeased, and even condescended so far as to explain that a certain Herr von Sorr, and not Count Repuin, had been his son's companion, and that they had left the castle together about half an hour previously.
"For this you have my friend's word," the colonel remarked.
"The word of honour of the Herr Freiherr von Hohenwald will suffice me," the police official rejoined.
"My simple assertion must suffice you, sir," the old man burst forth again.
The Geheimrath looked keenly at him for a moment, and then said, with a courteous bow, "It is the word of a man of honour, and therefore a word of honour; it suffices entirely. May I now beg the Herr Baron to allow me to proceed in my search of the castle?"
"I have nothing to say; do your duty!"
"For the present, then, Herr Baron, I take my leave, only requesting that the colonel will accord me the assistance of his adjutant in my search, if he would himself prefer remaining here with his old friend, I hope shortly to be able to report to you the result of what I feel convinced will be a fruitless investigation."
This proposal was most welcome to the colonel, who rejoiced to pass the time with his friend instead of assisting in searching the castle, a duty that would have been extremely repugnant to the old soldier. He therefore acceded to all the Geheimrath said, and Steuber left the room.
Outside, his first care was to despatch his assistant upon a fleet horse, taken from one of the dragoons, to intercept the flight of the Finanzrath and Repuin, giving the man the most minute directions as to how this was to be done, and how he should procure the assistance necessary to his success in so doing.
Then he turned to old Franz, over whom two dragoons had mounted guard, and demanded his guidance over the castle. Poor Franz was so completely subdued by the martial array about him, and above all so terrified by the glance of the eyes behind the spectacles, that he obeyed with submissive promptitude. Encountering in the hall Count Styrum, who had just concluded the posting of his dragoons, Steuber detained him as he was about to pass on to the garden-room, and said, "May I pray you to follow me, Herr Count? The colonel has permitted me to demand your assistance in the search I am about to begin."
Styrum would gladly have refused to fulfil so disagreeable a duty; his pride rebelled against assisting in a search in his friend's house, but the Geheimrath, who suspected what was in his mind, soothed his wounded sense of honour by adding, "I do not ask you, Count, to take any part in this search, which indeed I now believe will be entirely fruitless. The aid I need, and which your superior officer permits me to require at your hands, consists simply in your presence as a witness during my search. Thus you are a substitute, as it were, for your friend Baron Arno von Hohenwald, to whom you may be able to render essential service. May I look for your kind compliance with my wish?"
"I am ready," Styrum replied, and, with old Franz for a guide, they betook themselves to Werner's apartment.
The Finanzrath, when he stayed at the castle, occupied a spacious room in a retired wing, where, between the windows, stood his writing-table with its many drawers and compartments. This immediately attracted the Geheimrath's attention. Upon it lay an unopened letter, which Steuber at once took possession of and coolly opened. Looking up as he did so, he smiled at the expression of an outraged sense of honour on Styrum's face, and then read the letter aloud. "Make no further attempt to win over your father and brother,--it might be dangerous. Unfortunately, some of our friends have been very imprudent. I have received trustworthy information that many of us are under strict surveillance. The greatest caution is necessary; a new associate could avail us little,--one traitor might ruin us. Your brother's friend, Count Styrum, has already applied for re-admission to the army; if your brother should do likewise, he will rank among our foes, not our friends. Therefore I must entreat you to acquaint neither your father nor your brother with any of our plans. More when we meet; until then be upon your guard!" "And this precious epistle is signed 'A,'" the Geheimrath added. "It tells me nothing new of the Finanzrath or his friends, but it hints strongly that neither the old Freiherr nor his younger son knows anything of the Herr Finanzrath's schemes. Do you still think I did wrong to open the letter, Count?"
Without waiting for a reply the Geheimrath went on to search in the most careful manner every drawer and pigeonhole of Werner's desk, but his trouble was vain. The drawers were all unlocked, but not one piece of written paper was to be found anywhere. "Hm! the Herr Finanzrath has been expecting me," Steuber muttered, impatiently. "There is nothing here, and I have searched everything except the waste-paper basket." Thereupon he proceeded to examine all the papers it contained, worthless scraps, one and all, until nothing remained except some small fragments at the very bottom of the basket. Then, while the Count looked on in impatient wonder, he carefully assorted these, perceiving that they consisted of two kinds of paper, one bluish and stiff, the other creamy and delicate, murmuring, as he did so, "There can hardly be more than two notes here, or the number of scraps would be greater."
Styrum's interest began to be aroused. Since the Geheimrath now seemed inclined to believe in the innocence of Arno and his father he was no longer so distasteful to the Count, who testified his awakening interest by drawing a chair up to the table and closely watching the arrangement of the fragments of paper. His attention flattered the Geheimrath, who showed himself in the most amiable humour. "We will first undertake the strong, bluish paper," he said; "there are fewer of the scraps, and our work will be comparatively easy. I fear, however, that we are very indiscreet; the writing here is a lady's, and I suspect we have to do with a love-affair." In a short time the sheet lay completely fitted together before the official, who rubbed his hands with his peculiar chuckle and said, "It is no love-letter; I was mistaken; but it is from a lady, and not even addressed to the Herr Finanzrath, but to Fräulein Adèle von Guntram, in M----."
"A letter to Adèle!" Styrum exclaimed. "Do you know Fräulein von Guntram, Count?" "Certainly; the letter is addressed to my betrothed." "Then the contents, which are quite incomprehensible to me, will interest you all the more; perhaps you may divine from them how the note came to be torn up in the Finanzrath's waste-paper basket." And he read: