The fête progressed; the assembly glided to and fro as Hartmut walked slowly and apparently purposelessly through the long suite of reception rooms. He, too, looked for some one, and was more successful than Egon. A hasty glance into the tower room, the entrance of which was partly concealed by heavy portières, showed him the hem of a white train which floated over the floor, and the next moment he had crossed the threshold.
Adelaide von Wallmoden was still sitting in the same position, and slowly turned her head toward the intruder. Suddenly she started, but only for an instant, then with her habitual composure she returned the deep bow of the young man who remained standing at the door.
"I hope I have not disturbed Your Excellency," he said. "I fear you came here for solitude into which I have broken suddenly, but it happens quite unintentionally."
"I only took refuge here from the smothering heat of the salons."
"The same cause brought me here, and since I did not have the honor to-day to greet you, permit me to do so now."
The words sounded very formal. Rojanow had drawn nearer, but remained standing at a respectable distance. Nevertheless, the start at his entrance had not been passed by unobserved by him. A peculiar smile hovered around his lips as he directed his eyes upon the young Baroness.
She had made a gesture as if to rise and leave the room, but seemed to remember in time that so sudden a move would look like flight. She remained seated and leaned over the plants. Absently she picked one of the large crimson japonicas as she replied to the question about her health, but that line of severe will-power appeared again, sharply and distinctly, just as in that moment when she stood in the middle of the brook. That day she had stepped without hesitation into ankle-deep water rather than accept the help which was offered her; but that had occurred in the forest loneliness. No such obstacle had to be overcome here in the ducal castle, filled with the pomp of a fête; but the man with the dark, consuming glance was here, and he did not remove his eyes from her face.
"Shall you remain at Rodeck any length of time?" asked Adelaide in the indifferent tone with which remarks are exchanged in society.
"Probably a few weeks longer. Prince Adelsberg will hardly leave his castle as long as the Duke is at Furstenstein. I intend to accompany him to the Residenz later on."
"And we shall then learn to know you as a poet?"
"Me, Your Excellency?"
"I learned so from the Prince."
"Oh, that is only Egon's idea," said Hartmut, lightly. "He has settled it in his mind that he must see my Arivana upon the stage."
"Arivana! A strange title."
"It is an Oriental name for an Indian legend, whose poetical charm had prepossessed me so strangely that I could not resist the temptation to form it into a drama."
"And the heroine of the drama is Arivana?"
"No; that is only the name of an ancient, sacred spot, around which this legend clings. The name of the heroine is--Ada."
Rojanow uttered the name softly, hesitatingly; but his eyes flamed up triumphantly, as he saw again the same slight quiver he had seen at his entrance. Slowly he approached a few steps, continuing: "I heard the name for the first time upon India's soil, and it had a sweet foreign sound for me, which I retained for my heroine, and now I learn here that the abbreviation of a German name is just like it."
"Of the name Adelaide--yes. I was always called so at home; but it is nothing peculiar that the same sounds return in different languages."
The words sounded repellent, but the young wife did not lift her eyes; she gazed fixedly upon the flower with which her fingers toyed.
"Certainly not," assented Hartmut; "I only noticed it. It was no surprise, since all legends are repeated in all nations. They have a greater or less difference in appearance, but that which lives in them--the passion, the happiness and joy of the people--that is the same everywhere."
Adelaide shrugged her shoulders.
"I cannot argue about that with a poet, but I do believe that our German legends possess other features than the Indian dreams of myths."
"Perhaps so, but if you look deeper you will find these features familiar. This Arivana myth, at least, has similar lines. The hero, a young priest who has consecrated body and soul to his deity--the sacred, burning fire--is overwhelmed by earthly love, with all its fervor and passion, until his priestly vow perishes in its intensity."
He stood quietly and respectfully before her, but his voice had a strangely suppressed sound, as if, hidden behind this narrative, there was another and secret meaning.
Suddenly the Baroness raised her eyes and directed them fully and seriously upon the face of the speaker. "And--the end?"
"The end is death, as in most mystic legends. The breaking of the vow is discovered, and the guilty ones are sacrificed to the offended deity; the priest dies in the flames with the woman he loves."
A short pause followed. Adelaide arose with a rapid movement. She apparently wished to break off the conversation.
"You are right; this legend has something familiar, if it were only the old doctrine of guilt and atonement."
"Do you call that guilt, gracious lady?" Hartmut suddenly dropped the formal title. "Well, yes, by man it is called guilt, and they too punish it with death, without thinking that such punishment can be ecstasy. To perish in the flames after having tasted of the highest earthly happiness, and to embrace this happiness even in death--that is a glorious, divine death, worthy a long life of dull monotony. The eternal, undying right of love glows there like signs of flame in the sky, in spite of all laws of mankind. Do you not think such an end enviable?"
A slight paleness covered the face of the Baroness, but her voice was firm as she answered:
"No; enviable only is death for an exalted, holy duty--the sacrifice of a pure life. One can forgive sin, but one does not admire it."
Hartmut bit his lips, and a threatening glance rested on the white figure which stood so solemn and unapproachable before him. Then he smiled.
"A hard judgment, which strikes my work also, for I have put my whole power into the glorification of this love and death. If the world judge like you---- Ah, permit me, gracious lady."
He quickly approached the divan where she had been sitting, where, with her fan, the japonica also had been left.
"Thank you," said Adelaide, stretching out her hand; but he gave her only the fan.
"Your pardon. While I was composing my Arivana on the veranda of a small house in India, this flower bloomed and glowed from its dark green foliage everywhere, and now it greets me here in the cold North. May I keep this flower?"
Adelaide made a half reluctant gesture.
"No, why should you?"
"Why should I? For a remembrance of the severe opinion from the lips of a lady who bears the lovely name of my mystic heroine. You see, gracious lady, that the white japonica blooms here also, delicate, snowy flower; but unconsciously you broke the glowing red one, and poets are superstitious. Leave me the flower as a token that my work, in spite of all, may find favor in your eyes after you learn to know it. You have no idea how much it means to me."
"Herr Rojanow--I----" She was about to utter a refusal, but he interrupted her, and continued in low, but passionate, tones:
"What is a single flower to you, broken carelessly, and which you will allow to fade as carelessly? But to me leave me this token, gracious lady; I--I beg for it."
He stood close beside her. The charm which he, as a boy, had unconsciously exerted when he made people "defenseless" with his coaxing, he, as a man, recognized as a power which never failed, and which he knew how to use. His voice bore again that soft, suppressed tone which charmed the ear like music; and his eyes--those dark, mysterious eyes--were fixed upon the girl before him with a half gloomy, half beseeching expression.
The paleness of her face had deepened, but she did not answer.
"I beg of you," he repeated, more lowly, more beseechingly, as he pressed the glowing flower to his lips; but the very gesture broke the spell. Adelaide suddenly drew herself up.
"I must ask you, Herr Rojanow, to return the flower to me. I intended it for my husband."
"Ah, so? I beg your pardon, Your Excellency."
He handed her the flower with a deep bow, which she accepted with a barely noticeable inclination of the head. Then the heavy white train glided past him, and he was alone.
In vain! Everything glided off this icy nature.
Hartmut stamped his foot angrily. Only ten minutes ago he had passed such harsh judgment on all women, without an exception, to the Prince. Now he had sung again that charming tune which he had tried so often successfully, and had found one who resisted it. But the proud, spoiled man would not believe that he could lose the game which he had won so often, when just here he was so anxious to win it.
And would it really remain only a game? He had not as yet accounted to himself for it, but he felt that the passion which drew him to the beautiful woman was mingled at times with hatred.
They were conflicting emotions which had been deeply stirred when he walked by her side through the forest--half admiring, half repellent. But it was just that which made the chase so interesting to the practised huntsman.
Love! The high, pure meaning of the word had remained foreign to the son of Zalika. When he learned to feel, he was living at his mother's side, she who had made such shameful play of her husband's love; and the women with whom she associated were no better. The later life which she led with her son, unsettled and adventurous, with no firm ground under their feet, had finally crushed out the last remnant of idealism in the young man. He learned to despise before he learned to love, and now he felt the merited humiliation given him to be an insult.
"Struggle on," he muttered; "you battle against yourself. I have seen and felt it; and the one who does that, does not conquer in such a struggle."
A slight noise at the entrance caused Hartmut to look up. It was the Ambassador who appeared on the threshold, casting a searching glance into the room. He came for his wife, whom he thought still there.
He started at sight of Hartmut, and for a moment seemed undecided. Then he said, half audibly: "Herr Rojanow."
"Your Excellency."
"I should like to speak to you privately."
"I am at your service."
Wallmoden entered, but took up his position so as to keep the entrance in view. It was hardly necessary, for the doors of the dining room had just been thrown open, and the whole assembly floated there. The salon adjoining the tower room was already empty.
"I am surprised to see you here," the Ambassador began in suppressed tones, but with the same insulting coldness which he had shown at the first meeting, and which brought the blood to the young man's brow. He drew himself up threateningly.
"Why, Your Excellency?"
"The question is superfluous. At any rate, I request you not to again force me into the position I was brought into a short while ago, when Prince Adelsberg introduced you to me."
"The forced position was mine," returned Hartmut, just as sharply. "I will not assert that you consider me an intruder here, for you, best of all, know that I have a right to this intercourse."
"Hartmut von Falkenriedwould have had a right, of course; but that has changed."
"Herr von Wallmoden!"
"Not so loud, if you please," interrupted the Ambassador. "We might be overheard, and it would surely not be desirable to you that the name I just now uttered should be heard by outsiders."
"It is true that at present I carry my mother's name, to which I surely have a right. If I laid aside the other, it happened out of consideration----"
"For your father," finished Wallmoden, with heavy emphasis.
Hartmut started. This was an allusion which he could not bear yet.
"Yes," he replied, curtly. "I confess that it would be painful to me if I were forced to break this consideration."
"And why? Your rôle here would be played out, anyway."
Rojanow stepped close to the Ambassador with a passionate gesture.
"You are the friend of my father, Herr von Wallmoden, and I have called you uncle in my boyhood; but you forget that I am no longer the boy whom you could lecture and master at that time. The grown man looks at it as an insult."
"I intend neither to offend you nor to renew old connections, which neither of us consider as existing," said Wallmoden, coldly. "If I desired this conversation, it was to declare to you that it will not be possible to me, in my official position, to see you in intercourse with the Court, and be silent when it would be my duty to enlighten the Duke."
"Enlighten the Duke! About what?"
"About several things which are not known here and which have probably remained unknown to Prince Adelsberg. Please do not fly into a passion, Herr Rojanow. I would do this only in an extreme case, for I have to spare a friend. I know how a certain incident hurt him ten years ago, which is now forgotten and buried in our country, and, if all this should come up again and be brought into publicity, Colonel Falkenried would die of it."
Hartmut blanched. The defiant reply did not cross his lips. "He would die of it." The awful word, the truth of which he felt only too well, forced aside for the moment even the insult of the remark.
"I owe my father alone an account of that occasion," he replied in a painfully suppressed voice; "only him and nobody else."
"He will hardly ask for it. His son is dead to him; but let that rest. I speak especially now of later years; of your stay at Rome and Paris, where you lived with your mother in lavish style, although the estates in Roumania had had to be sacrificed at a forced sale."
"You seem to be all-knowing, Your Excellency!" hissed Rojanow in great anger. "We had no idea that we were under such conscientious surveillance. We lived upon the balance of our fortune which had been rescued from the wreck."
"Nothing was rescued; the money was entirely lost--to the last penny."
"That is not true," interrupted Hartmut, stormily.
"It is true. Am I really better informed about it than you?" The voice of the Ambassador sounded cuttingly sharp. "It is possible that Frau Rojanow did not want her son informed of the source from which she derived her means, and left him in error about it intentionally. I know the circumstances. If they have remained unknown to you--so much the better for you."
"Take care not to insult my mother," the young man burst forth; "or I shall forget that your hair is gray, and demand satisfaction."
"For what? For a statement for which I can produce the proofs? Lay aside such foolishness, of which I shall take no notice. She was your mother, and is dead now; therefore we will go no deeper into this point. I should only like to put this question to you: Do you intend, even after this conversation, to remain here and appear in the circle into which Prince Adelsberg has introduced you?"
Hartmut had turned deathly pale at the hint of the muddy origin of his mother's means, and the numb terror with which he looked at the speaker betrayed that he indeed knew nothing about it. But at this last question he regained his composure.
His flashing eyes met those of his opponent, and a wild decision sounded in his voice as he replied: "Yes, Herr von Wallmoden, I remain."
The Ambassador did not seem to have expected this defiance; he probably thought to have accomplished the matter more easily, but he retained his composure.
"Really? Well, you are accustomed to playing a high hand, and you seem to wish here also--but hush! Some one is coming. Reconsider the matter, perhaps you will change your mind."
He quickly entered the adjoining room, in which the Chief Forester now appeared.
"Where have you hidden yourself, Herbert?" he asked, when he beheld the Ambassador. "I have looked everywhere for you."
"I wished to find my wife."
"She is already in the dining room, like everybody else, and where you are being missed. Come, it is high time that we get something to eat."
Herr von Schonan took possession of his brother-in-law in his ever jovial manner and went off with him.
Hartmut stood still in his place. He struggled for breath; the excitement threatened to choke him. Shame, hatred, anger, all floated wildly through his heart. That hint of Wallmoden's had hurt him terribly, although he but half understood it. It tore asunder the veil with which he had half unconsciously, half intentionally shrouded the truth. He had, indeed, believed that a remnant of their wealth, rescued from the wreck, had given him and his mother their income. But it was not the first time that he had shut his eyes to what he did not wish to see.
He had enjoyed life in deep draughts without calling himself to account for it when the hand of his mother had so suddenly torn him from the enforced paternal education into unlimited freedom; when he exchanged the routine of the strictest duties for a life full of intoxicating enjoyments. He had then been too young to judge, and later on--it was then too late; habit and example had woven too unyielding a net around him. Now, for the first time, it was being shown him clearly and unmistakably what the life was that he had led so long--the life of an adventurer; and as an adventurer he had been pointed out the exit from society.
But hotter than the shame of that burned the affront which had been given him, and hatred for the man who had forced this indisputable truth upon him. The unfortunate inheritance from his mother, the hot, wild blood which had once been fatal to the boy, welled up like a stream of fire, and every other thought went down in a sensation, wild and limitless, of thirst for revenge.
His handsome features were distorted beyond recognition when he finally left the room, with tightly closed teeth. He knew and felt but one thing--that he must have revenge--revenge at any price!
It was very late when the fête came to an end. After the withdrawal of the ducal couple, a general move for departure took place. Carriage after carriage rolled down the Schlossberg; the bright lights were extinguished, and Furstenstein began to shroud itself in darkness and silence.
In the apartments devoted to the Ambassador and his wife, however, the lights still burned.
Adelaide stood at the window in her rich robe of the fête and looked out into the night like one lost in thought, but it was with a peculiar, weary gesture that she leaned her head against the window panes.
Wallmoden sat at the writing table, glancing through some letters and dispatches which had arrived in the last hour. They seemed to contain important news, for he did not lay them aside with other papers to receive attention to-morrow morning, but grasped a pen and hastily wrote a few lines, then arose and quickly approached his wife.
"This comes unexpectedly," he said. "I shall have to go to Berlin."
Adelaide turned in surprise. "So suddenly?"
"Yes; I thought to accomplish this very serious affair by letter, but the Minister expressly desires a personal interview. Therefore I shall take leave of the Duke to-morrow morning for a period of about a week, and depart immediately."
The young bride's features could not be distinguished in the semi-darkness, but her breast heaved with a deep sigh, which betrayed a perhaps unconscious relief.
"At what hour do we leave?" she asked quickly; "I should like to notify my maid."
"We? This is entirely a business trip, and, naturally, I go alone."
"But I could accompany you."
"What for? You understand that it means an absence of only a week or two."
"No matter. I--I should like to see Berlin again."
"What a whim!" said Wallmoden, shrugging his shoulders. "I shall be so occupied this time that I could not accompany you anywhere."
The young wife had approached the table and now stood in the full light of the lamp. She was much paler than usual, and her voice had a suppressed sound as she returned: "Well, then, I shall go home. I should really not like to remain here alone at Furstenstein without you."
"Alone?" The Ambassador looked at her in astonishment. "You will be with our relatives, whose guests we are. How long have you been so desirous of protection? It is a thing I have not observed in you so far. I do not understand you, Adelaide. What is this strange caprice of wishing to accompany me at all hazards?"
"Accept it as a caprice, then, but let me go with you, Herbert; I beg of you."
She laid her hand entreatingly upon his arm, and her eyes were directed with almost an expression of fear upon her husband's face, whose thin lips parted in a sarcastic smile. It was that superior smile, which could be so insulting at times.
"Ah, so? Now I understand. That scene with the Princess has been disagreeable to you. You fear renewed annoyances, which will probably not fail to come. You must lose this sensitiveness, my child. On the contrary, you ought to be aware of the fact that this encounter alone puts you to the necessity of remaining here. Every word, every look is interpreted at Court, and a sudden departure on your part would give rise to all sorts of speculations. You have to hold your own now, if you do not wish to make your connections with the Court forever difficult."
The young wife's hand slipped slowly from his arm, and her look sank to the floor at this cool rejoinder to her almost beseeching entreaty--the first she had uttered in her short marriage.
"Hold my own," she repeated, in a low voice. "I do that, but I hoped you would remain at my side."
"That is not possible just now, as you see; besides, you understand in a masterly manner how to defend yourself. You have shown that to me as well as to the whole Court to-day, but I am sure the hint I gave you will be considered, and that you will be more cautious with your answers in the future. At any rate, you will remain at Furstenstein until I return for you."
Adelaide was silent. She saw that nothing was to be gained here.
Wallmoden stepped back to the writing table and looked at the document just received; then he grasped the sheet on which he had written the answer and folded it.
"One thing more, Adelaide," he said, carelessly; "the young Prince Adelsberg was constantly at your side to-night. He pays homage to you in rather a conspicuous manner."
"Do you wish me to decline these attentions?" she asked, indifferently.
"No; I only ask you to draw the necessary limit, so that no idle talk may ensue. I do not intend to cut short your social victories. We do not live in burgher circumstances, and it would be ridiculous in my position to play the jealous husband who views every attention paid his wife with suspicion. I leave this entirely to your own tact, in which I have unlimited confidence."
All of this sounded so tranquil, so sensible, so boundlessly indifferent, Herr von Wallmoden might, indeed, be exonerated from any thought of jealousy. The openly offered admiration of the young, charming Prince caused him no anxiety; he quietly left his wife to her "tact."
"I shall attend to this dispatch myself," he continued; "as we have a telegraph station in the castle since the Duke's arrival. You should ring for your mail, my child; you look somewhat fatigued and probably feel so. Good night."
He left the room, but Adelaide did not follow the advice. She had drawn near the window again, and a half bitter, half pained expression trembled on her lips. She had never felt so painfully as at this moment that she was nothing more to her husband than a shining jewel which one exhibits, a wife whom one treats with perfect politeness and attention because she brought in her hand a princely fortune, and to whom a request could be denied with equal politeness; a request which might have been so easily granted.
Night rested over the forest; the sky was cloudy and dark, with here and there a solitary star glimmering through the flying clouds. A pale face looked up to the gloomy sky; not with the cold, proud composure the world was accustomed to see, but with an expression of beseeching entreaty.
The young wife pressed both hands to her bosom, as if the pain and unrest were there. She had wished to flee from the dark power whose approach she had felt, and which was drawing the circles nearer and closer around her. She had wished to flee to her husband's protection. In vain! He would go away and leave her alone, and another remained--another, who, with dark, glowing eyes and thrilling voice, wielded such a mysterious, irresistible power. "Ada," the name with its sweet, foreign sound, floated near her like a spirit's breath. It was her name which the legend of the Arivana bore!
October had come, and autumn began to show its reign in a marked manner. The foliage of the trees bore gay tints; the country was wrapped, morning and night, in mist. The nights sometimes brought frost, while the days were unusually fine and sunny.
With the exception of that large fête which had collected the whole community, and the hunts, which were naturally prominent at this time of the year, no particular festivities took place.
The Duke, as well as his wife, loved to entertain small circles, and did not wish to disturb the quiet and freedom of their autumn visit with brilliant entertainments. On that account excursions were more often taken. The forest hills were being explored on horseback and in carriages, and the ducal table daily held a large number of guests. Adelaide von Wallmoden belonged to this small circle. The Duchess, who had learned in what manner her sister-in-law tried to make the position of the young Baroness more difficult, counterbalanced it with greater affability, drawing Adelaide into her presence at every opportunity; and the Duke, who wished to distinguish the Ambassador and his wife, was well satisfied with it.
Wallmoden was still in Berlin. The two weeks he had appointed for his trip had passed away, and yet nothing was said of his return.
One of the most frequent visitors at Furstenstein was Egon von Adelsberg, the pronounced favorite of his princely relatives; and his friend, Rojanow, was always honored with an invitation. The young Prince had prophesied correctly. Hartmut was like a shining meteor, whom all eyes followed with admiration, and of whom it was not expected that he should follow in the old beaten track of Court life.
He had read his Arivana to them at the request of the Duchess, and with it had gained a perfect triumph. The Duke had immediately promised him a performance of the drama in the Court Theatre, and Princess Sophie turned her special favor upon the young poet.
The surrounding Court circle, of course, followed the example of the princely people in this case only too gladly, for the charm he exercised was universal.
The hunting carriage of Prince Adelsberg stood before the castle of Rodeck. It was still early, and the misty October morning seemed to promise a clear, beautiful day. Egon had just appeared upon the terrace in full hunting costume and was speaking with the castle steward, who followed him.
"And so you wish to look at the hunt also?" he asked. "Of course, Peter Stadinger has to be wherever anything is to be seen. My valet has also asked leave of absence, and I believe the whole population of the Wald will turn out to-day to be at the hunting grounds."
"Yes, Your Highness, such things are not often to be seen," said Stadinger. "The great Court and gala hunts have become rare in our Wald. Hunting goes on everywhere, but then the gentlemen are mostly by themselves, like here at Rodeck, and if the ladies are not there----"
"Then it is unbearably tiresome," completed the Prince. "Quite my opinion; but you are otherwise prejudiced against womankind, and cry out if any one who has not reached a good old age comes within the borders of Rodeck. Have you changed your opinion in your old days?"
"I meant the high princely ladies, Your Highness," declared the old servant, with particular emphasis.
"The high princely ladies could only honor me with a visit upon the occasion of a drive. I cannot invite them, as I am a bachelor."
"And why is Your Highness still a bachelor?" asked Stadinger in reproachful tones.
"Man, I believe you also have matrimonial plans for me as well as the world has," laughed Egon. "Spare your pains; I shall not marry."
"That is not right, Your Highness," persisted Stadinger, who gave his master his title at least once in every sentence because it was "respectable" so to do, while at the same time he took the liberty of lecturing him upon every occasion; "and it is also unchristianlike, for matrimony is a holy state, in which one feels well off. Your sainted father was married--and so was I."
"Oh, of course, you too. You are even grandfather of a most charming granddaughter, whom you have most cruelly sent off. When does she come back, anyhow?"
The steward thought best to lose the last question, but he remained obstinately at his subject.
"Your Highness, the Duchess and the Princess Sophie are of the same opinion. Your Highness should consider the subject seriously."
"Well, since you exhort so paternally, I will consider it. But, concerning the Princess Sophie, she intends to drive to Bucheneck, which is the meeting place of to-day's hunt; it may be possible she will notice you there and may speak to you."
"Very probable, Your Highness," confirmed the old man, complacently. "Her Highness always honors me by speaking to me, because she knows me as the oldest servant of the ducal house."
"Very well. If the Princess should ask casually after the snakes and animals which I have brought back from my travels, you say that they have already been sent to one of my other castles."
"It is not necessary at all, Your Highness," Stadinger assured him, benevolently; "the most illustrious aunt already knows all about it."
"Knows all about what? Have you told her anything?"
"At your service. The day before yesterday, when I was at Furstenstein, Her Highness had just returned from a drive and graciously beckoned me to approach and asked me--Her Highness likes to do that----"
"Yes, Heaven knows!" groaned the young Prince, who already scented mischief. "And what did you answer?"
"'Your Highness may rest easy,' I said; 'we have only monkeys and parrots of the live animals in the castle. Serpents have never been there. A large sea serpent, though, was to have arrived, but he died on the voyage, and the elephants tore themselves lose at the embarking and ran back to the palm forests--at least, so His Highness says. To be sure, we have two tigers, but they are stuffed; and of the lions, there is only the skin, which lies in the armory. Therefore Your Highness may see that the beasts cannot break loose and do harm.'"
"Oh, but you have fixed things now with your chattering!" cried Egon, exasperated. "And the Princess, what did she say?"
"Her Highness only smiled and inquired what kind of female servants we had at Rodeck, and if the girls of this vicinity were among them; but I said then"--here Stadinger drew himself up consciously--"'The servants in service at the castle I have hired. They are all industrious and reliable; I have looked out for that. But His Highness runs when he puts eyes on them, and Herr Rojanow runs still more; and the gentlemen have never gone back into the kitchen since the first time they went there.' After that Her Highness was most gracious and condescended to praise me and dismissed me in the very highest satisfaction."
"And I should like to run you to perdition in the very highest dissatisfaction," the Prince burst forth, wrathfully. "You unlucky old Waldgeist, whathaveyou been doing again?"
The old man, who apparently thought that he had done his part extremely well, looked at his master in perplexity.
"But I have only said the truth, Your Highness."
"There are cases where one must not say the truth."
"So? I did not know that till now."
"Stadinger, you have quite an abominable way of answering. Have you told the Princess also that Lena has been in town for the past four weeks?"
"At your service, Your Highness."
"What is the matter with Stadinger again?" inquired Hartmut, who emerged from the castle, also dressed for the hunt, and who had heard the last of the conversation.
"He has committed a first-class foolishness," grumbled Egon, but he was met with bad success by the "oldest servant of the ducal house," who drew himself up, deeply offended.
"With your permission, Your Highness, I have not committed the foolishness."
"Do you mean perhaps that I have done it?"
Stadinger looked at his master keenly from the corner of his eye, after which he said deliberately: "That I do not know, Your Highness; but it may be so."
"You are a churl!" cried the Prince, hotly.
"Known for that through all the Wald, Your Highness."
"Come, Hartmut; nothing can be done with the old, grumbling bear to-day," said Egon, half laughing, half vexed. "At first he gets me into scrapes, and then he lectures me on top of it. May graciousness help you, Stadinger, if you give any more such reports!"
With which he entered the carriage with Rojanow. Stadinger remained standing in military position and saluted as was demanded by his idea of the respectful, for respect was the main thing, although he did not in the least think of giving in by so doing. His Highness, Prince Egon, had to do that; he could not come up with his Peter Stadinger.
Egon was evidently of the same opinion as he narrated the proceeding to his friend, and concluded with comic despair: "Now you can imagine what a reception will be mine from the most illustrious aunt. She has guessed that I wished to keep her away from Rodeck. My morals are rescued in her eyes, but at the expense of my veracity. Hartmut, do me the favor of showering your sweetest affability upon my revered aunt. If necessary, compose a poem for her as a lightning rod; otherwise the flash of her most high anger will annihilate me."
"Well, I should think you were weather-proof in this respect," quoth Hartmut. "You have had to have forgiveness for many similar escapades. The Duchess and the younger ladies will be at the chase on horseback, will they not?"
"Yes, they could not see much from a carriage. Do you know that Frau von Wallmoden sits her horse perfectly. I met her the day before yesterday as she returned from a ride with her brother-in-law, the Chief Forester."
"Ah, so? Well, one knows, then, where Prince Adelsberg will be to-day exclusively."
Egon, who had been reclining comfortably, straightened himself and looked at his friend inquiringly.
"Not so much sarcasm, if you please. Although you are not to be found so frequently in the presence of the afore-mentioned lady, and even pretend a certain coldness toward her, I know you too well not to see that we are only too much of the same opinion."
"And if it were so, would you consider it a break in our friendship?"
"Not in this case, where the object is unobtainable to both."
"Unobtainable!" That unpleasant smile again passed over his lips.
"Yes, Hartmut," said the Prince, seriously, "the beautiful, cold Aurora, as you have christened her, remains true to her nature. She stands far removed and unapproachable on the horizon, and the ice sea from which she rises is not to be penetrated. The lady has no heart; she is incapable of a passionate feeling, and this gives her this enviable security. Come, confess that here your power is wrecked. The icy breath has chilled you, and therefore you flee from it."
Hartmut was silent. He thought of those moments in the tower room, when he asked for the brilliant flower. It had been refused him, but it had not been an icy breath which came from the Baroness when she had trembled under the gaze of the beseecher.
He had since seen her almost daily, but had rarely approached her, although he knew that he held her under his spell now as before.
"Nevertheless, I cannot get free from this foolish infatuation," continued Egon, with a half dreamy expression. "It seems to me that life and warmth could grow up in that nature, and change the snow region into a blooming world. If Adelaide von Wallmoden were still free, I believe I should make the attempt."
Rojanow, who had been gazing into the misty forest, lost in thought, turned quickly and sharply:
"What attempt? Does that perhaps mean that you would offer her your hand?"
"You seem really horror-stricken at the idea." The Prince laughed aloud. "I meant that, indeed. I have no prejudice against the manufacturing world, like my most gracious aunt, whom such a possibility would indeed throw into convulsions. Strange to say, you seem to think so, too. Well, both of you may rest easy. His Excellency, the husband, has seized the prize; but he truly does not make a life of roses for her with his tiresome diplomatic face. Ah! but the man has had enviable good luck."
"Call no man happy before his death," muttered Hartmut under his breath.
"A very wise remark, and one not quite new to me. But you sometimes have something in your eyes which frightens me. Do not be offended, Hartmut; but you look like a demon at this moment."
Rojanow made no answer.
The road now left the forest, and yonder Furstenstein rose into view, where the ducal colors floated in the morning breeze. Half an hour later the carriage rolled into the castle court, where an animated scene reigned.
The entire force of servants was at hand; saddle horses and carriages were ready, and the greater number of invited guests had already arrived.
The start took place at the appointed hour, and the bright light of the sun, breaking through the mist, shone resplendent on the imposing cavalcade as it moved down the Schlossberg.
The Duke and Duchess led the party; then followed the numerous suite and the whole assembly of guests, and the grooms in full livery who were permitted to go.
Out through the sunny autumn morning into the forests and heights of the hunting preserves, where it soon became lively. Firing resounded on all sides; the flying game broke through the thickets or sped across the openings, now alone and now in droves, only to be reached finally by a ball; and the usually quiet forest gave back the echo of the chase.
The Chief Forester had ordered out the entire forester staff of the Wald, and had made all arrangements so excellently that it brought him great honor to lead the chase, which was not marred by any accident.
Toward noon a rendezvous was held at Bucheneck, a small ducal forest lodge situated in the midst of the Wald, and which could afford shelter in case of unfavorable weather. This was not necessary to-day, for the weather had turned out to be fine, only a little too warm for an October day. The sun burned so hotly as to render it unpleasant at luncheon, which was partaken of out of doors; but otherwise all passed off happily and unceremoniously, and a gay scene developed upon the large green meadow, at the border of which Bucheneck was situated.
The entire hunting cortege was assembled here. The Duke, who had been especially fortunate in the chase to-day, was in the very best of spirits. The Duchess chatted with animation to her surrounding ladies, and the Chief Forester beamed with pleasure, for the Duke had expressed his satisfaction in the most flattering manner.
Frau von Wallmoden, who was near the Duchess, was the subject of general admiration to-day. She was, without doubt, the most beautiful of all the assembled ladies, nearly all of whom needed rich dressing and candle-light to bring out their beauty. Here, in the bright, midday sun, in plain, dark riding habits, which permitted no colors or jewels, many an otherwise admired appearance faded. The young Baroness alone remained victorious in this simplicity. Her tall, slender figure looked as if formed for her habit, while the transparent clearness and freshness of her skin, and the shining blondness of her hair were even more to be admired in daylight than at the night fête. Besides, she had really proved herself an able horsewoman, who sat in the saddle with as much ease as security; in short, the "beautiful Aurora," as Frau von Wallmoden was now called in the court circle since Prince Adelsberg had given her that name, was admired on all sides, and received the more attention as it was known that she was to disappear for several weeks.
The Ambassador had notified his wife yesterday that his diplomatic work was now finished, but that he would utilize his presence in North Germany in looking after the Stahlberg works.
Important changes had been planned there, and new improvements spoken of, for which a final decision had to be made, and Wallmoden, as executor and guardian of the heir, had the deciding voice in it. His presence at the conference was indispensable; he had asked leave of absence from his office, and had notified the Duke of a return later.
At the same time he left it to his wife to decide whether she would remain at Furstenstein or take the trip to her old home with him, if she wished to see her brother. Now, after fully two weeks, no one could misconstrue her departure. The young wife had immediately chosen to go with her husband, and had notified the Duchess that she should leave on the morrow.