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.
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 littlesingvogel, 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.
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."
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,nowshe 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 thisWiedersehen.
"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--hemustunderstand the necessity of his step. But this friend was silent, and in this silence lay the sentence.
"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 himself. "Do you not see that it is a question of life or death to me? I saw my father again that day at Rodeck, when he hastened to the deathbed of Wallmoden. He crushed me with his contempt--with the awful words he threw into my face. It was that which drove me away from Germany, which chased me ceaselessly from place to place. His words went with me and made life a hell to me. I have greeted the war cry as a deliverance. I want to fight for the fatherland which I once cast from me, and now the door which is open to every one is closed to me alone. Egon, you turn from me! Oh--there is only one way left for me!"
With a sudden, passionate motion he turned to the table, where the Prince's pistols were lying; but the Prince sprang at him and tore him back.
"Hartmut, are you out of your senses?"
"Perhaps I shall be so. All of you torture me beyond endurance."
Boundless despair lay in those words.
Egon, too, had turned pale, and his voice trembled as he said: "Before it goes so far--I will try to find an opening in a regiment for you."
"At last! I thank you."
"However, I cannot promise you anything, for the Duke has to be put altogether aside now. Besides, he leaves to-morrow for the battlefield. Should he learn later on that you serve in his corps, we shall then be in the midst of the storm of war, and one does not ask 'How' and 'Why' in the face of a completed fact. But it may take days before the decision arrives. Will you be my guest?"
Formerly the Prince would have accepted that as only natural and would have been exasperated if his friend had refused; now he made the inquiry, and Hartmut felt what lay in the cold question.
"No, I shall not remain in town," he replied. "I shall go to the Forester at Rodeck, and I beg that you will send your answer there. I can return here in a few hours."
"As you wish. Then you will not go to the castle?"
Hartmut gazed at him with a long, sad look.
"No; to the Forester's. Farewell, Egon."
"Farewell."
They parted without a pressure of the hand, without a further word, and when the door closed behind him, Hartmut knew that he had lost the friend who had idolized him. Judged here, too--and cast out! He had to atone terribly for the old guilt.