Over the Wald hung a dark, cloudy sky, which, from time to time, sent down showers of rain. Gray mists clung around the heights, and storms raged through the crowns of the trees. It was a regular autumn day in the middle of summer.
The mistress of Ostwalden was alone at her castle. She had received news from her brother that he had already left, and that the meeting planned between them could not take place. Therefore Adelaide had postponed her departure to be present at the marriage of Willibald and Marietta, which was quietly celebrated in the presence of the nearest relatives.
The young couple had left for Berlin, where Willibald was to join his regiment immediately. His young wife wished to remain near him the few days before the order came to march. From there she was to go to Burgsdorf, whither her mother-in-law had preceded her.
The morning hours had not yet passed when Prince Adelsberg drove up to the castle of Ostwalden. He had asked for leave of absence to-day to "arrange some important matters"; but the important matters did not carry him to Rodeck, but to Ostwalden. He came to say farewell to Adelaide, whom he had not seen since that first visit.
As his carriage entered the castle yard, they met the priest of the neighboring village with the holy sacrament, and attendant chorister. Apparently the last rites had been administered to one seriously ill. The Prince inquired to whom the sad visit had been paid, and learned that it was to one of the inspectors of the estate, and that the mistress of the castle was at present with the dying man; but the guest should be announced to her instantly.
Egon restlessly paced up and down the reception room, into which he had been shown. He had come here to obtain an assurance, without which he did not feel able to march into a campaign of life or death; and the uncertainty with which such a campaign was ever taken, must serve as apology for thus approaching a young widow still in deep mourning. It need not yet be a proposal. He wanted to take with him only a hope the promise of which had risen so brightly at their last meeting, when Adelaide had shown such warm interest in his sorrow about his absent friend. He did not dream that he had made a fatal mistake. Still, in spite of this, a deep shadow rested upon the face of the Prince, usually so cheerful. It was not the leave-taking which gave him pain, for he went to the battlefield with glowing enthusiasm and the happy faith of youth, which dreams only of victory, and rejects all dark prospects. Besides, he dreamed of another happiness in the future, which he wished to secure now.
The door opened to admit Frau von Wallmoden.
"I beg your pardon for detaining you so long, Your Highness," she said, after the first greetings. "It was probably told you that I was beside a deathbed?"
"I learned so upon my arrival," replied Egon, who had hastened to meet her. "Is the case really so serious?"
"Alas, yes! poor Tanner! He used to be tutor in a family in the neighborhood, but had to give up his position on account of a serious illness. At the request of the Chief Forester, I gave him employment in cataloguing my husband's library, which had been sent to Ostwalden, and it was hoped that he would quite recover in the easy office and the invigorating forest air. He was so grateful for it, and told me only yesterday how happy his mother was that he should be excused from military service, on account of not being yet quite well. But suddenly this morning he had a hemorrhage, and the physician tells me that he can live but an hour longer. It is awful to see a young life bleed to death like that!"
"And yet this will happen to thousands in the next few weeks," said Egon, gravely. "Have you been with the poor man?"
"Yes, at his request. He knew how it was with him, and wished to lay a prayer upon my heart for his old mother, who loses in him her only support. I have calmed his mind on that subject, but it was all I could do for him----"
One could see how deeply the scene at the deathbed had impressed the young widow, and Egon, too, felt deep compassion at the narrative.
"I come to say farewell," he said, after a short pause. "We march the day after to-morrow, and I could not deny myself a visit to you once more. I am happy to have found you here, as I understand you intend leaving soon."
"Yes, for Berlin. Lonely Ostwalden is so far remote, and in this time of feverish expectation one wishes to be as near the centre of communications and connections as possible. I am anxious about my brother, who has joined the standard."
Again a pause ensued, and the Prince was about to break it with expression of what lay so near his heart, when Frau von Wallmoden anticipated him with a question, asked with apparent indifference, but in a voice which trembled slightly:
"You were in much anxiety about the non-arrival of news of your friend at your last visit, Your Highness. Have you heard from him yet?"
Egon's eyes fell, and the shadow which had been dispelled during the conversation returned, heavily and gloomily, to his face.
"Yes," he replied, coldly. "Rojanow is back in Germany."
"Since the declaration of war?"
"Yes, he came----"
"To join the army! Oh, I knew it!"
The Prince looked at her amazed.
"You knew it, Your Excellency? I thought you had known Hartmut as a Roumanian only, and through me."
A deep blush suffused the cheeks of the young Frau von Wallmoden. She felt the exclamation had been a betrayal, but she quickly regained composure. "I became acquainted with Herr Rojanow last fall, when he was your guest at Rodeck," she answered, composedly; "but I have known his father for long years, and he---- I suppose your Highness knows all that has happened?"
"Yes, I know it now," said Egon, with heavy emphasis.
"Colonel Falkenried was a near friend of my father's and visited our house frequently, although I had never heard of his son. I had considered the Colonel childless until that awful hour at Rodeck, the day my husband died. Then I learned the truth, and was a witness of a meeting between father and son."
The Prince breathed a sigh of relief at this explanation, which dispelled the disastrous thought just dawning upon him.
"I understand your concern, then," he replied. "Colonel Falkenried is, indeed, to be pitied."
"He only?" asked Adelaide, struck by the harsh tone of the last words. "And your friend?"
"I have no friend--I have lost him!" cried Egon, with passionate pain. "What he confessed to me two days ago opened an abyss between us, and what I know now parts us forever."
"You judge the misdemeanor of a seventeen-year-old lad very severely. He must have been only a boy then."
A deep reproach lay in the words of the young widow; but the Prince shook his head vehemently.
"I do not speak of that flight and that breaking of his word, although they weigh heavily with the son of an officer. But what I heard yesterday--I see you do not yet know the worst, gracious lady, and how should you? Spare me this report."
Adelaide had turned pale, and her eyes, full of fear, hung fixed upon the speaker.
"I beg of Your Highness," Adelaide commenced again, "to tell me the truth--the whole truth. You said that Herr Rojanow had returned to join the army. I had thought he would--had expected it--for it is the only thing by which he can atone for his old guilt. Has he joined the standard already?"
"Happily it has not gone so far, and that has spared me a heavy responsibility," said Egon, with supreme bitterness. "He reported to several regiments, but was refused everywhere."
"Refused! But why?"
"Because he did not dare to confess himself a German, and because a very just suspicion was raised toward the strange Roumanian. One has to be cautious at the present time that no--spies may force their way into the ranks of our armies."
"For God's sake, what do you mean?" cried Adelaide, who began now to comprehend the situation.
Egon sprang up in great excitement and drew nearer.
"If you wish, then, to know it, gracious lady--listen. Hartmut came to me and requested me to use my influence to make the entrance into one of our regiments possible to him. I refused at first, but he forced me to consent by a threat which was hardly meant seriously. I kept my word and asked one of our higher officers, whose brother was secretary to our embassy at Paris and who had just returned from there with him. This gentleman was present at our interview. He heard the name, Rojanow--inquired further into the matter and gave me disclosures; I cannot repeat them. I have loved Hartmut as I have nothing else upon this earth--have almost idolized him. I let myself be carried away by the force of his genius, and now I learn that the friend who was everything to me is a monster; that he and his mother did service as spies at Paris. Perhaps he wished to do the same in our army!"
He covered his eyes with his hand, and there was something awful in the agony of the young man whose idol had been so ruthlessly shattered.
Adelaide had risen, and the hand with which she leaned upon the back of the chair trembled.
"And what have you--has he--answered to that?"
"Do you mean Rojanow? I have not seen him since and shall not see him again. I shall spare myself and him that much. He is now at the forestry at Rodeck and awaits my answer there. I have notified him in three lines of what I learned, without adding a remark or a word. He has probably received the letter and will understand it sufficiently."
"Good God! that will drive him to his death," Adelaide burst forth. "How could you do it! How could you judge the unfortunate one without hearing him!"
"The unfortunate one!" repeated the Prince cuttingly. "Do you really consider him that?"
"Yes, for I do not hear these awful accusations for the first time. His father cast them in his face at that meeting."
"Well, if even his own father accuses him----"
"The deeply offended, deeply embittered man! He cannot have an unbiased judgment, but you--the friend of Hartmut--you, who stood so near him--you ought to have stepped in and defended him."
Egon looked with questioning surprise upon the excited lady.
"You appear to wish to do so now, Your Excellency," he said slowly. "I cannot do it, for there is too much in Hartmut's life which confirms the suspicion. It explains everything to me that has hitherto seemed mysterious. These are quite decided facts upon which the accusation is based----"
"Against the mother! She has ever been the doom--the ruin--of her son; but he did not know the shameful work to which she had fallen; he lived at her side ignorant of it. I saw how he broke down when his father uttered the awful words--how he struggled against it as in a death struggle. That was truth--that was the despair of a man who is being punished more deeply than he has transgressed. That flight--that breaking of his word--robs him now of the faith of those who stand nearest to him. But if his father and his friend both so judge him--I believe in him!It is not true! He is not guilty!"
She had drawn herself fully erect in her stormy excitement. Her cheeks glowed; her eyes sparkled, and her tone and words contained that convincing passion which only love knows when defending the loved one.
Egon stood there transfixed and looked at her. There it was--the awakening, of which he had often dreamed, Fire and life glowed there now--a blooming world arose from the ice; but it was another who had called it forth.
"I do not dare to decide as to whether you are right, gracious lady," said the Prince in a toneless voice, after a brief silence. "I only know one thing. Whether Hartmut be guilty or not, he is enviable in this hour."
Adelaide shrank back; she understood the hint and lowered her head mutely before the reproachful glance.
"I came to say farewell," continued Egon. "I intended to add a question--a prayer--to this leave-taking, but that is over now. I have only to bid you farewell."
Adelaide raised her eyes, in which hot tears glistened, and offered her hand.
"Farewell, and may God take you in His care and keeping during the campaign!"
But Prince Adelsberg shook his head silently.
"What shall I do with life?" he finally cried in overwhelming sorrow. "I should like best--no, do not look at me so entreatingly! I know now that I made a fatal mistake, and I will not torture you with a confession; but, Adelaide, I would gladly die could I buy with death the look and tone you had just now for another. Farewell!"
Once more he pressed her hand to his lips, then hastened away.
The storm had increased in violence during the afternoon. It roamed in the forest, dashed among the open heights and chased the clouds over the sky with increasing wrath. It raged with full force around that forest height which had once witnessed such a significant encounter between two people, but the man who leaned there now alone and lonely at the trunk of a tree did not seem to feel it, for he stood immovable in the midst of it.
Hartmut's face was deathly pale; a stony, unnatural calm rested upon it, and the sparkle of the eyes had died out, while the hair fell heavy and damp over his brow. The storm had torn his hat from his head; he had noticed it as little as the rain which drenched him.
He had found himself at this place after hours of roaming through the forest--here, where a remembrance drew him unconsciously. It was the right place for his purpose.
The news which had been looked for so feverishly had finally come; no letter; nothing but a few lines without any preface, and with only the signature, "Egon--Prince Adelsberg." But in these lines there lay annihilation for him who received them. Cast out forever--judged by his friend without a hearing! Doom had awfully fulfilled itself in the son of Zalika.
The crashing of a huge limb which broke under the pressure of the storm and fell whizzing to the ground, aroused Hartmut from his despairing revery. He had not even started at the crash, but slowly turned his glance to the heavy mass which fell close to him. A foot nearer and it would have struck him--would perhaps have made an end of all the shame and torture in one moment; but death was not made so easy for him. That blessing came to him only who loved life--he who wished to throw it away must do so with his own hand.
Hartmut took the gun from his shoulder and put the butt to the ground; then he laid his hand upon his breast to find the right place. Once more he glanced up to the veiled skies with their scudding masses of clouds, and down to the little dark forest lake in the deceiving meadow, over which the fog clustered as at that time at home. The beckoning, charming will-o'-the-wisp had appeared to him there; he had followed the flame of the depths, and now it drew him down hopelessly; there was no further rising into the heights where other, brighter lights shone. A bullet in the heart and everything would be at an end.
He was about to grasp the trigger when he heard his name called in a tone of deadly anxiety. A slender figure in a dark cloak sprang toward him from the edge of the forest, and the weapon fell from his hand, for he gazed into the face of Adelaide, who stood trembling before him.
Moments passed without a word from either. It was Hartmut who recovered first.
"You here, gracious lady?" he asked with enforced calmness. "Are you out in the forest in this weather?"
"I should like to put the same question to you."
"I have been hunting, but the weather is unpropitious, and I was about to discharge my gun----"
He did not finish, for the sad, reproachful glance upon him told that the lie was in vain. He broke off and looked gloomily before him. Adelaide, too, gave up all pretense, and in her voice all her anxiety trembled as she cried: "Herr von Falkenried, what did you intend to do?"
"What would have now been done had you not interfered," said Hartmut, harshly. "And believe me, gracious lady, it would have been better if coincidence had brought you here a few moments later."
"It was no coincidence. I was at the forestry at Rodeck, and heard that you had been gone for hours. An awful presentiment drove me to look for you here. I was almost sure I should find you here."
"You looked for me? Me, Ada?" His voice shook at the question. "How did you know that I was at the forestry?"
"Through Prince Adelsberg, who called to see me this morning. You received a letter from him?"
"No, only a communication," returned Hartmut with quivering lips. "No single word was directed to me personally in the short lines; they brought only a communication in a business tone which the Prince thought necessary. I fully understood it."
Adelaide was silent; she had known it would drive him to suicide. Slowly she walked with him under the protection of the trees, for it was hardly possible to keep erect out in the open space in this raging storm, but Hartmut did not seem to feel it.
"You know the contents of the communication--I see that you do," he commenced again, "and it is not new to you, either. You overheard what happened that night at Rodeck, but believe me, Ada, what I felt at that moment when you stood before me in that ghostly glow which shone through that night, and it grew clear to me that I had been ground into the dust before you--what I felt might have satisfied even my father's vengeance, might have atoned for all my sin."
"You do him wrong," replied the young widow solemnly. "You saw him only in the stern, iron inflexibility with which he cast you from him. I saw him differently after you had gone. He broke down there in wild anguish; he then let me look into the heart of a despairing father who loved his son above everything. Have you not made an attempt since then to convince him?"
"No; he would believe me as little as Egon does. He who has once broken his word, has lost forever their faith, even if he would regain it with his life. Perhaps my death upon the battlefield would have enlightened them, but when I fall now by my own hand they will see in it only the deed of a despairing man--a guilty one--and will despise me even in my grave."
"Not everybody will do that," said Adelaide lowly. "I believe in you, Hartmut, in spite of everything."
He looked at her, and through the gloomy hopelessness of his soul there flamed something of the old fire.
"You, Ada? And you tell me that upon this spot where you cast me off? You did not know anything about me then----"
"And for that reason I shuddered before the man to whom nothing was sacred--who recognized no law but his will and his passions; but that winter night, when I saw you at your father's feet, showed me that you fell more through doom than guilt. Since then I have known that you can and must cast that unfortunate inheritance from your mother far from you. Rouse yourself, Hartmut. The road which I then showed you is still open; whether it leads to life or death--it leads upward."
He shook his head gloomily.
"No, that is past. You have no conception of what my father has done to me with his terrible words. What my life has been since then I--but let me be silent about it; nobody can grasp it; but I thank you for your faith in me, Ada. Death is made easier to me through that faith."
The young widow made a quick motion toward the weapon which lay at his feet.
"For God's sake, no! You dare not do that!"
"What am I to do with life?" Hartmut burst forth with terrible vehemence. "My mother has branded me as with a red-hot iron, and this closes to me every way to atonement--to salvation. I am cast out from the ranks of my people, where even the poorest peasant can fight; a privilege which is denied only to the dishonorable criminal, is denied also to me, for I am nothing else in Egon's eyes. He fears that I might become a traitor--a spy to my own brothers!"
He covered his face with both hands, and the last words died in a sob; then he felt a hand touch his arm gently.
"The brand is extinguished with the name Rojanow. Throw that from you, Hartmut; I bring you what you tried in vain to obtain--entrance into the army!"
Hartmut started and gazed at her in unbelief.
"Impossible! How could you----"
"Take these papers," interrupted Adelaide, drawing forth a package. "They are made out in the name of Joseph Tanner 29 years old, slender, with dark complexion, black hair and eyes--you see everything will suit--with these nobody will refuse you an entrance as a volunteer."
She gave him the papers, around which his right hand closed spasmodically as upon the most precious jewel.
"And these papers?" he asked, still doubting.
"Belong to a dead man. They were given me for another purpose, but the deceased has no further use for them and will pardon me if with them I save a living man."
Hartmut stormily opened the package. The wind almost tore the sheets from his hand and he was scarcely able to decipher the contents as the young widow continued:
"Joseph Tanner had a small office at Ostwalden, when seized with a hemorrhage this morning. He had but a few hours to live and gave me his last words and mementos for his mother. The poor woman shall receive everything--every letter, every scrap which can be a solace to her, but I have taken the official papers--for you. We do not rob anybody in doing this, for they are valueless to the mother to whom they now belong. Perhaps a strict judge would call that deceit, but I gladly shoulder the blame, and God will pardon it, and so will the fatherland."
Hartmut closed the case and hid it in his breast, which heaved under a deep, deep breath. Then he drew himself up and pushed the rain-soaked locks from the high brow, so like his father's--his only inheritance from the Falkenrieds, but which gave him an unmistakable resemblance to them.
"You are right, Ada," he said. "I cannot thank you in words for what you have done for me. Words have no power, but--I shall strive to deserve it."
"I know that. Farewell and--auf wiedersehen!"
"No, do not wish that," said Hartmut gloomily. "Death in battle can exonerate me to myself, but not to my father or Egon, for they would never hear of it; and if I remained among the living the old stain would return; but when I fall, tell them who rests under the foreign name. Perhaps then they will believe you and remove the curse from my grave."
"Do you want to fall?" asked Adelaide with plaintive reproach, "even if I tell you that you sadden me inexpressibly?"
"Sadden you, Ada!" he cried passionately. "Do you no longer shudder at my love--at the fate which drew us together? Oh, I might have possessed the highest happiness, for you are--free; but it comes near to me now for only a fleeting moment, and vanishes again into unattainable heights, like the form of the legend who bears your name in my drama. Nevertheless, it has approached me, and I may be permitted for once only to clasp it to me in farewell."
He drew her to him and pressed a kiss upon the brow of his love, who leaned against him sobbing.
"Hartmut, promise me that you will not seek death."
"No; but it will know how to find me. Farewell, my own Ada."
He tore himself away hastily. Adelaide remained alone. The storm roared above her head; the giant crowns of the trees moaned and swayed; the storm sang its wild song on and on, but suddenly over in the west there flamed a dark-red rent through the clouds. It was only for a brief moment--only one solitary ray of the sinking sun, but it shiningly illumined the forest height and the departing one, who turned once more and sent back a last greeting. Then the clouds massed together again, and the ray was extinguished.
The reddish, flickering glow of a wood fire lighted up the interior of a small, isolated house which had formerly served as a dwelling to a station-keeper, but was now pressed into service for the sentinels of the outpost. The room did not bear an expression of cosiness with its bare, smoked walls, low ceiling and small, barricaded windows, but the tremendous logs which flared and burned in the uncouth stone fireplace offered a very welcome warmth, for it was bitterly cold out of doors, and the whole country was buried in the snow of a severe winter.
The regiment here was hardly better off than their comrades before Paris, although they belonged to the Southern army corps.
At present two young officers were entering, and the one who still held the door open called laughingly to the one preceding: "Please bend down, Herr Comrade, or you might take our door frame along, for our villa is in rather a dilapidated condition, as you see."
The warning was not without need, for the giant figure of the guest--a Prussian Lieutenant of the Reserve--was not at all in proportion to the door. Nevertheless, he succeeded in entering safely and looked around at the four walls, while his companion, who wore the uniform of a South German regiment, continued: "Permit me to offer you a seat in our 'salon,' which is not so bad considering the circumstances. We have already had it worse during the campaign. So you are looking for Stahlberg? He is with my comrade out at the post, but will probably return directly. You will have to be patient for a quarter of an hour."
"With pleasure," assured the Prussian. "I see from that that Eugene's injury is really as slight as he reported. I looked for him in the hospital, and heard that he was making a visit to the outposts, but as we shall probably march on by to-morrow, I did not wish to let this opportunity pass by unimproved, and therefore came to see him now."
"His wound was indeed only slight--a shot in the arm, which is already far advanced toward healing, but will, nevertheless, disable him for service for a short time. You are a friend of Stahlberg?"
"Yes, and connected besides through the marriage of his sister. I see that you do not remember me, Your Highness. Let me give you my name--Willibald von Eschenhagen. We met last year----"
"At Furstenstein," interrupted Egon von Adelsberg quickly. "Certainly, now I remember you perfectly. It is remarkable how the uniform changes one; I really did not know you at first."
He glanced with a half-admiring look at the once awkward country squire who had appeared so ridiculous to him, but who now possessed a stately, military appearance.
It was not the uniform alone, though, which had changed Willibald so completely. What love had begun the campaign had finished by tearing him from the accustomed surroundings and circumstances. The young Baron had not only, as his Uncle Schonan expressed it, "become a man," but had developed into a true, genuine man.
"Our meeting at that time was a brief one," continued the Prince, "but nevertheless you will permit me to offer my congratulations? You are betrothed----"
"I believe you are under a mistake, Your Highness," interrupted Willibald with some embarrassment. "Although I had been introduced to you at Furstenstein as the future son-in-law of the house, but----"
"That has been changed," finished Egon, smiling. "I knew it, for the comrade of whom I spoke just now is Lieutenant Waldorf, the happy fiancé of Baroness Schonan. My words were meant for Fraulein Marietta Volkmar."
"At present Frau von Eschenhagen."
"What! You are already married?"
"Have been for five months. We were married just before marching orders came, and my wife is now at Burgsdorf with my mother."
"Then accept my congratulations on your marriage. But really, Herr Comrade, I ought to call you to account for the unwarrantable damage you have done to art. Please tell your wife that, as far as I can learn out here in the campaign, the entire Residenz still mourns her loss in sackcloth and ashes."
"I shall not forget it, although I fear the Residenz has not much time for such mourning at present. Ah, the gentlemen are returning--I hear Eugene's voice."
Steps were heard outside and the expected ones entered. Young Stahlberg greeted his relative with an exclamation of the most joyful surprise. He had not seen Willibald during the campaign, although both served in the same army corps. He still bore his arm in a sling, but otherwise looked well and happy.
Eugene did not possess the beauty of his sister, and the feature of decided will-power which the daughter had inherited from her father was missing. The son showed a gentle, more conciliatory nature in his appearance as well as demeanor, but still he resembled his sister closely, which might have been the cause of Prince Adelsberg's intimacy with him.
His companion, a handsome young officer with sparkling, saucy eyes, now approached, and the Prince performed the introduction.
"I will not fear that the gentlemen will challenge each other when I mention the names," he said, jestingly. "They are obliged to be called--so then, Herr von Eschenhagen--Herr von Waldorf."
"God forbid! For my part I am peace personified," cried Waldorf gayly. "Herr von Eschenhagen, I am glad to meet the cousin of my fiancée, and so much more so because he is already in the bonds of holy matrimony. We also would have liked to do as you did--marry before the march--but my father-in-law put on his grimmest mien and declared, 'Gain victory first and then marry.' Well, we have done the first continually for five months, and as soon as I return home I shall speedily ask for the second."
He cordially shook the hand of his bride-elect's former fiancé, then turned to the Prince.
"We brought along something for Your Highness--something we seized outside. Orderly of Rodeck, advance to His Highness--the Lieutenant, Prince Adelsberg."
The door opened, and in spite of the gathering twilight the Prince recognized the wrinkled face and snow-white hair of him who entered. He started.
"All good spirits defend us! It is Peter Stadinger!"
It was, indeed, the live Stadinger who stood before his young master. He did not seem to be wholly a stranger to the others, for although they now saw him for the first time, they greeted his appearance with the liveliest joy.
"Above everything, let us have light to take a good look at the 'Waldgeist' of His Highness," cried Waldorf, lighting candles and holding them with comical solemnity close before the old man.
Egon laughed.
"You see, Stadinger, what a well-known and frequently spoken of person you are here. Now let me introduce you in proper form. Behold here, gentlemen, Peter Stadinger--celebrated for his unequaled churlishness and his moral lectures, which make one quake. He probably thinks I cannot exist without them, and he will doubtless give to me here also upon the battlefield the satisfaction of this friendly habit. I hope that some of it will fall upon your heads, gentlemen--and now begin, Stadinger!"
But the old man, instead of obeying, grasped the hand of his master in both of his and said in a heartrending tone: "Ach, Your Highness, how we have trembled and feared for you at Rodeck!"
"Well, that is polite!" said Eugene Stahlberg, but the Prince assumed a displeased air.
"So? And you therefore took to your legs speedily and left everything to go topsy-turvy at Rodeck. I should not have thought you would neglect your duty like that!"
Stadinger looked at him in doubting perplexity.
"But I have come according to orders. Your Highness has written me to make haste and come and take Louis from the hospital--you would attend to the travel and everything. I arrived this noon, and found the lad as well as could be expected. The doctor thinks I can take him home with me in a week, for then all danger would be over. But the kindness Your Highness has shown to Louis and all the others from Rodeck who are in the army can never be told. May God reward you a thousand times!"
Egon withdrew his hand impatiently.
"It is 'Herr Lieutenant' now, remember that. I insist upon my military title--and what does this mean, now that when I count upon your churlishness you are meek as a lamb and give us a pathetic scene! I forbid it! This Louis, gentlemen, is a grandson of this old Waldgeist--a fine, brave fellow, but he has a sister who is much handsomer. I am sorry to say this senseless grandfather sends her away regularly when I go to Rodeck. Why did Lena not come along? You should have thought of bringing her."
This proved effective against the meekness and affection, which were as unusual as embarrassing.
Stadinger drew himself up rigidly and replied with his usual terseness: "I believed Your Highness had no time here in the war to think about such foolishness."
"Aha, now it is coming!" said the Prince under his breath to Waldorf, who stood beside him, but aloud he continued: "That is where you are very much mistaken. A fellow gets uncivilized in the war, and when I return home again----"
"Then Your Highness has promised to get married at last," reminded the old man in the most emphatic tone, which called forth general laughter among the young officers. Egon joined it, but his laugh sounded forced, just as did his reply:
"Yes, yes; I have promised, but I have reconsidered the matter in the meantime. I may keep my word in ten years or perhaps in twenty, but no sooner."
Stadinger, who in spite of the command would not have used the title of Lieutenant under any consideration, because that would be a humiliation to the ducal family in his eyes, flew into a high state of indignation and gave free vent to it.
"If I do not almost believe it! If Your Highness has really for once a sensible thought, it does not hold good for twenty-four hours--and your sacred father a married man, too! Man has to marry, anyhow, and all foolishness stops of its own accord after marriage."
"Now that he is in the run of it, gentlemen, let him moralize to you," cried Egon, and the young officers, to whom this was great fun, teased the poor Stadinger until he lost all respect and exhibited himself in the full halo of his admonitory nature.
Half an hour later Willibald and Eugene Stahlberg approached the Prince to take leave.
"You march on by to-morrow?" he asked.
"At daybreak. We march toward R----, where Major-General von Falkenried is stationed with his brigade, though it will take several days to reach there, for the whole country between here and the fortress is occupied by the enemy, and we have to clear our way."
"But tell the General, Willy, that I shall follow in at least a week," said Eugene. "It is bad enough that I have to remain behind so long on account of a shot wound not worth mentioning. Next week I shall report myself well, whatever the doctor may say, and after that I shall join my regiment without delay--I hope before the capture of R----"
"You must, indeed, make haste then," said Egon, "for resistance does not last long usually where General Falkenried stands; we have seen that often enough. He is always in front with his men always the first to storm a place, and has already won inconceivable things. It seems as if no impossibility exists for him."
"But he has the good luck to be always put in the front," grumbled Lieutenant Waldorf. "Now again he is to take R----, while we lie here, God knows how long. And he will take possession of it--there is no doubt of that--perhaps he has taken it already. News reaches us only by roundabout ways so long as the enemy stands between us."
He arose to escort the two gentlemen out, while the Prince remained behind.
Standing before the fire with folded arms, he gazed into it, and his face bore an expression not in accordance with the gayety which he had but now been showing. Seriously, yet gloomily, he looked into the dancing flames, and the shadow would not leave his usually sunny eyes.
He seemed to have forgotten the presence of Stadinger, but as the latter made himself heard by clearing his throat, he started.
"Ah, you are still here? Remember me to Louis and tell him I will come to see him again to-morrow. We don't have to say farewell yet, as you remain here for the present. You did not think we had such gay times here? Yes, one makes life easy as possible when one has to be ready every day to lose it."
The old man stood before his master and looked sharply into his eyes, then he spoke half aloud:
"Yes, the gentlemen were gay and Your Highness the gayest of all but you are not happy in spite of it."
"I? What do you mean? Why should I not be happy?"
"I don't know that, but still I see it," insisted Stadinger. "When Your Highness used to come from Furstenstein, or were up to all sorts of things with Herr Rojanow, you looked different and laughed different, and just now when you looked into the fire it seemed to me as if Your Highness had something very heavy upon your heart."
"Get away with all your observations!" cried Egon, to whom his old Waldgeist was again becoming uncomfortable. "Do you suppose we are always jolly? I should say that when one has the bloody battlefield always before the mind, earnest thoughts come near."
Nothing could be said to that, and Stadinger remained silent, but he could not be deceived. He knew quite well that something was wrong with his young master, and that something was hidden behind this ostensibly exhibited gayety.
Lieutenant Waldorf re-entered the room, but left the door open. "Come right in here," he called to the man hesitating outside. "Here is an orderly from the Seventh Regiment with a report. Well, don't you hear, orderly? Come in!"
The repetition of the order sounded very impatient. The soldier who stood upon the threshold hesitated there, and had even made a start back, as if he wished to return to the darkness outside. He now obeyed, but kept close to the door, so that his face remained in the dusk.
"Do you come from the outposts at the Capellenberg?" asked Waldorf.
"At your command, Herr Lieutenant."
Egon, who had turned indifferently, started at the sound of that voice. He made a hasty step forward, then stopped as if suddenly recollecting himself, but his eyes were fixed with an almost terrified expression upon the speaker.
As far as could be discerned in the semi-darkness he was a tall young fellow in the coarse cloak of the common soldier, with helmet upon his closely-cut hair. He stood there, rigidly immovable, and delivered his report correctly, but his voice had a peculiarly choked, hollow sound.
"From Captain Salfeld," he reported. "We have seized a suspicious character, dressed as a peasant, but probably from the French reserve, who tried to steal into the fortress. What writings he had with him----"
"Do come nearer," commanded Waldorf, impatiently. "We cannot half understand you."
The soldier obeyed, drawing near to the officers. The light now fell full and sharp upon his features, but his face bore an ashy paleness; the teeth were tightly closed, and the eyes were fastened to the floor.
Egon's hand clutched the hilt of his sabre convulsively, and only by an effort he suppressed the stormy exclamation which was forced to his lips, while Stadinger, with wide-open eyes, glared at the man, who now continued: "The writings which he had with him were not of much account, but contained hints which he was probably to fill out verbally. The Captain thinks that if he were strictly examined, more could be learned, and asks now whether he shall send the prisoner here or to headquarters."
The report was neither surprising nor unusual. It often happened that suspicious people were seized. The enemy's reserve tried obstinately to obtain connection with the fortress; perhaps they kept it up in spite of all the watchfulness of the besiegers: but Prince Adelsberg seemed to have to struggle for breath before he could give the answer.
"I beg the Captain to send the prisoner here. We shall be relieved in two hours and then we march straight to headquarters. I shall attend to the fellow."
"I hope he can be made to speak when he is seriously pressed," remarked Waldorf. "He would not be the first whose heart had fallen when his position became clear to him. Well, we shall see."
The soldier stood there awaiting his dismissal; not a muscle quivered in his face, but neither did he raise his eyes from the floor. Egon had now collected himself, and, retaining the assumed ignorance, he asked in the curt tone of the superior:
"Do you belong to the Seventh Regiment?"
"At your command, Herr Lieutenant."
"Your name?"
"Joseph Tanner."
"Drawn?"
"No, volunteer."
"Since when?"
"Since the 30th of July."
"You have been in the whole campaign?"
"Yes, Herr Lieutenant."
"Very well; now take the message to your Captain."
The soldier saluted, turned upon his heel and left.
Waldorf, who had been a little surprised at the examination, but had not attached any importance to it, looked after him, shrugging his shoulders.
"Those out at the Capellenberg have the worst time of it. No rest by day or night; taxed to the utmost, and with all that they are often ordered to help the pioneer corps. The poor fellows work there in the hard, frozen ground until the sweat runs in streams from their brows, and their hands bleed. Our people surely are better off."
He left the room to appoint an orderly to guard the expected prisoner and give him the necessary instructions; but Egon tore the window open and leaned out; it seemed as if he should suffocate.
Then he heard Stadinger's voice behind him in subdued tones, which nevertheless betrayed the greatest terror.
"Your Highness."
"What is it?" Egon asked without turning.
"Has not Your Highness seen?"
"What?"
"The orderly who was here just now. That was Herr Rojanow as sure as he lives and breathes."
Egon saw that presence of mind was needed here, so he turned around and said coldly: "I believe you see ghosts."
"But, Your Highness----"
"Nonsense! there may be a little resemblance. I noticed it myself, therefore I wanted to know the name of the man. You heard that it was Joseph Tanner."
"But still it was the real live Herr Rojanow," cried the unshakable Stadinger, whose sharp eyes could not be deceived. "Only the black locks were gone and the proud, haughty manner, but it was his voice."
"Get away from me with your fancies!" Egon broke out angrily. "You know that Herr Rojanow is in Sicily, but here you want to trace him in an orderly of the Seventh Regiment. It is truly worse than ridiculous."
Stadinger held his peace. It was, indeed, ridiculous and impossible, and consequently was his young Prince so ungracious. He felt offended that a common soldier should be confounded with his friend. And really the haughty Rojanow, who understood how to command from the very bottom of his heart, and had often chased all the servants at Rodeck helter-skelter with his orders--and the orderly who had been snubbed by Lieutenant Waldorf because he did not speak loud enough--were two ever so different things. If only it had not been for the voice!
"Think, Your Highness," besought the old man, who was now wavering.
"I think that you are an old seer of spirits," said Egon more mildly. "Go into your quarters and sleep away the fatigue of your journey, or you will be finding some more resemblances. Good-night!"
Stadinger obeyed and took his leave. Fortunately he had not known Joseph Tanner, who had only been at Ostwalden a few weeks, and the encounter had put him in such a fright that the partly concealed excitement of his master passed quite unnoticed by him. But he clung to his doubts; the thing was strange--very strange.
When the Prince found himself alone he began to pace the floor in violent excitement. So! what he had refused his former friend had been enforced. Joseph Tanner! He plainly remembered the name, which had been mentioned to him at Ostwalden, and he knew now whose hand had opened for Hartmut the ranks of the army which had been closed to a Rojanow.
What will not the love of a woman attain!--a woman who desires to see her love exonerated at any price. She herself had sent him out into danger and death--to save him for life and--herself. Jealousy rose wild and hot in Egon's breast at the thought, and with it that awful suspicion, not yet overcome, raised its head again threateningly. Did Hartmut really wish to atone only in this war? Was not his presence at the outposts a danger, for which one was responsible if he kept it a secret?
Then came back to the Prince's mind the pale, gloomy face of the man to-night--the friend who had once been so dear to him, and who must have suffered agonies of torture at this encounter, far exceeding his imagination. He well knew Hartmut's unbending pride, and this pride was now bowed low in the dust in that subordinate position day after day. He had heard it; how out there on the Capellenberg they often worked so hard that in spite of the icy weather the sweat poured in streams from their brows, and their hands bled. This was what the spoiled, famed Rojanow was doing; the man at whose feet the whole town laid its homage only a year ago, and whom the house of the reigning Prince had overwhelmed with distinction; and he was doing it of his own free will, when the success of his poetical work afforded him the richest revenues. And with it all, he was the son of General Falkenried!
Egon's breast rose under a deep but relieved breath. This view of it was giving him back slowly his lost faith; all torturing doubts fled before this. The old sin of the boy Hartmut was now being atoned for, and the other more awful sin was the mother's alone--not his.