The warm, golden light of a clear September day lay over the green ocean of forest, which stretched as far as the eye could reach. These immense forests had covered this part of Southern Germany for countless years; trees one hundred years old were no rarity among them. The whole bore the character of a mountainous forest, for hills and dales succeeded one another.
While the railroads spun their web all around the country, drawing one place after another within their grasp, this "Wald," as these miles and miles of wooded land were briefly called by the people, lay still and deserted, like a green island, almost untouched by the life and strife around.
Here and there a village rose from the forest green, or an old castle, almost in ruins, gray and dilapidated. There was one exception to it, in a powerful, old, gray edifice which stood upon a height and overlooked the whole vicinity. This was "Furstenstein," once the hunting lodge of the sovereign, but at present the habitation of the Chief of all the foresters.
The castle dated from the beginning of the last century and had been built with all the waste of space of that epoch when the hunting lodge of the Prince had to accommodate for weeks the whole court suite.
Furstenstein was only partly visible at a distance, for the forest covered all the castle mount, the gray walls, the steeples and bow windows lifting themselves from among the crown of green firs. The size of the old structure was only apparent when one stood before the entrance portal, for many additions belonging to later times were attached to it. It was to be understood that decay here was carefully kept back, for the numerous rooms of the upper floors were kept in readiness for the commands of the Prince, who came here occasionally in the fall.
The similarly extensive lower floor was given to the chief of the forest department, Herr von Schonan, who had lived here for years, and who knew how to make the loneliness agreeable by keeping a very hospitable house and by frequent sociable visitings in the neighborhood.
He was entertaining guests at present. His sister-in-law, Frau Regine von Eschenhagen, had arrived yesterday, and her son was also expected.
The two daughters of the house of Wallmoden had made very desirable matches, the elder one marrying the lord of the Burgsdorf estates and the younger one Herr von Schonan, who belonged to a wealthy South German family. In spite of the distance separating them, the sisters and their families had remained in intimate association, and even after the death of the younger one, which had occurred several years previously, these family connections were continued.
This friendship, however, had a quality of its own, for Herr von Schonan was always on the war-path with his sister-in-law. As both natures were terse and inconsiderate they came to a tussle at every opportunity, made up regularly, deciding to keep the peace in future, but the promise was broken just as regularly. A new difference of opinion would come up in the next hour, the dispute would be carried on with fullest passion, until it again raged with undiminished power.
Just at present a very unusual harmony seemed to prevail between the two, who sat upon the terrace before the entrance room.
The Chief Forester, who in spite of his advanced years, was still a very stately man, with strong, sunburned features and slightly gray but thick hair and beard, was leaning comfortably back in his chair, listening to his sister-in-law, who, as usual, was monopolizing the conversation.
Frau Regine was now near her fiftieth year, but had scarcely changed in the last decade. The years could not make much impression upon her strong physique; a little wrinkle perhaps here and there in the face, a few silver threads mingled with the dark hair; but the gray eyes had lost none of their keen clearness; the voice was as full and steady, the carriage just as energetic as formerly. It was very evident that the lady bore the sceptre in her domain now as before.
"As I said, Willy will be here in a week," she was saying. "He had not quite finished with his harvest work, but it will soon end, and then he will be ready for the betrothal. The affair has long been settled between us, but I decidedly advocated the delay, for a young girl of sixteen or seventeen years has all sorts of childish tricks still in her head, and cannot preside well over an orderly household. But Antonie is now twenty years old and Willy twenty-seven; this suits exactly. You are satisfied, are you not, brother, that we now arrange the betrothal of our children?"
"Quite satisfied," affirmed the Chief Forester; "and we are of the same opinion in all else concerning it. Half of my money will fall to my son after my death, the other half to my daughter, and you can also be at rest about the dower which I have set apart for the wedding."
"Yes, you have not been stingy about it. As to Willy, you know he has had possession of the Burgsdorf estates for three years. The money, according to the will, remains in my hands. After my death it will, of course, fall to him. The young couple will not be in need. Sufficient care has been taken for that; therefore all is decided."
"Yes, decided. We will celebrate the betrothal now and the wedding in the spring."
The thus far clear sky was darkened now by the first cloud. Frau von Eschenhagen shook her head and said dictatorially:
"That will not do, the wedding must occur in the winter, for Willy will not have time to marry in the spring."
"Nonsense! One always has time to marry," declared Schonan, just as dictatorially.
"Not in the country," persisted Frau Regine; "there the motto is, first work and then pleasure. It has always been so with us, and Willy has learned it, too."
"But I emphatically beg that he will make an exception in the case of his young wife, otherwise the deuce may take him!" cried the Chief angrily. "Besides, you know my conditions, Regine. My girl has not seen your son for two years; if he does not please her, she shall have a free choice."
He had attacked his sister-in-law in a most sensitive spot. She straightened herself to her fullest height in her offended motherly pride.
"My dear Moritz, I credit your daughter with some taste at least. Besides, I believe in the old custom of parents choosing for their children. It was so in our time and we have fared well with it. What do young people know of such important things? But you have always allowed your children their own way too much. One can see there is no mother in the house."
"Is that my fault?" demanded Schonan, angrily. "Should I have given them a stepmother? In fact, I wished to once, but you would not consent to it, Regine."
"No, I had enough of marriage with one trial," was the dry answer, which roused the Forester still more. He shrugged his shoulders sarcastically.
"Why, I shouldn't think that you could possibly complain of the late Eschenhagen. He and all his Burgsdorf danced entirely after your piping. Of course, you would not have gotten the upper hand of me so easily."
"But I should have had it in a month," remarked Frau Regine with perfect composure, "and I should have taken you under my command first of all, Moritz."
"What! you tell me this to my face? Shall we try it, then?" shouted Schonan in a passion.
"Thank you, I shall not marry a second time. Do not trouble yourself."
"I have not the slightest idea of it. I had enough of it with that one jilting; you do not need to do it a second time"; with which the Chief Forester pushed back his chair angrily and left.
Frau von Eschenhagen remained quietly seated. After awhile she called in a quite friendly manner: "Moritz!"
"What is it?" sounded crossly from the other side of the terrace.
"When is Herbert to come with his young wife?"
"At twelve o'clock," came the curt reply.
"I am glad of that. I have not seen him since he was sent to your capitol, but I have always said that Herbert was the pride of our family, whom one could parade anywhere. He is now Prussian Ambassador to His Excellency at your court."
"And a young husband of fifty-six years, besides," said Herr von Schonan scornfully.
"Yes, he took his time to marry, but then he has made a splendid match for all that. It was surely no little thing for a man of his years to win a wife like Adelaide, young, beautiful, rich----"
"And of burgher descent," interrupted Schonan.
"Nonsense! Who asks nowadays after a pedigree when a million is involved. Herbert can make use of it. He has had to get along with small means all of his life, and the position of ambassador will require more display than the salary will admit of. And my brother does not need to be ashamed of his father-in-law, for Stahlberg is one of our first industry men and a man of honor from tip to toe, besides. It was a pity that he died after the marriage of his daughter, for she has surely made a sensible choice."
"Pouf! You call it a sensible choice when a girl of eighteen takes a husband who could be her father?" cried the Chief, drawing near in the heat of the controversy. "Of course when one becomes a baroness and the wife of the Prussian Ambassador, one plays a big rôle in society. This beautiful, cool Adelaide, with her 'sensible' ideas which would do credit to a grandmother, is not congenial to me at all. A sensible girl who falls heels over head in love and declares to her parents, 'This one or none at all,' is much more to my taste."
"Well, these are beautiful ideas for a father!" cried Frau von Eschenhagen indignantly. "It is exceedingly fortunate that Toni has taken after my sister and not after you, for otherwise you might live to see the like in her. Stahlberg raised his daughter better. I know from himself that she obeyed his wish when she gave her hand to Herbert, and so, of course, it is all right and as it should be. But you do not understand anything about educating children."
"What! I, a man and a father, not understand the bringing up of children?" shouted Schonan, cherry-red with vexation.
The two were in the best possible condition to fly at each other again, but fortunately they were interrupted this time, for a young girl, the daughter of the house, stepped out on the terrace.
Antonie von Schonan could not be called exactly pretty, but she had a stately figure like her father and a fresh, blooming face, with light brown eyes. Her brown hair was folded in simple plaits around her head and her dress, although suitable to her position, was also plain. But Antonie was in those years when youth displaced every other charm, and as she drew near, fresh, healthy, stately in her whole appearance, she was exactly the daughter-in-law after Frau von Eschenhagen's own heart, and she nodded in a friendly way to her.
"Father, the carriage is returning from the station," said the young lady in a very deliberate, somewhat drawling tone. "It is already at the foot of the castle mount. Uncle Wallmoden will be here in fifteen minutes."
"What, tausend! They have driven like lightning!" exclaimed the Chief Forester, whose face brightened at the news. "Are the rooms all in order?"
Toni nodded as calmly as if that were a self-evident fact. As her father started off to look for the carriage which was to bring his guests, Frau von Eschenhagen said with a glance at the little basket which the young girl carried: "Well Toni, you have been busy again?"
"I have been in the kitchen garden, dear aunt. The gardener insisted that there were no pears ripe as yet, but I looked for myself and gathered a basketful."
"That is right, my child," said her future mother-in-law, highly satisfied. "One must have her eyes and hands everywhere, and never rely upon servants. You will some day be a splendid housekeeper. But now let us go. We will also meet the uncle."
Herr von Schonan was already in advance and just descending the wide stone steps which led to the castle court, when a man emerged from one of the side buildings and came to a standstill, bowing his greeting respectfully.
"Hallo, Stadinger; what are you doing at Furstenstein?" cried the Chief Forester. "Come up here."
The man obeyed the command. He walked actively with firm, erect carriage, in spite of his snow-white hair, and a pair of keen, dark eyes shone from his tanned face.
"I have been with the Herr Steward, Herr Oberforstmeister," he replied, "to ask if he could not let me have a few of his people to help me, for everything is topsy-turvy with us at Rodeck just now. We have not hands enough for the work."
"Ah, yes; Prince Egon has returned from his travels in the Orient; I heard of it," said Schonan. "But how does it happen that he comes to Rodeck this time, this small forest nook which offers neither room nor comforts?"
"Heaven alone knows that; one never dares ask why with our young Highness. The news came one morning, and the castle had to be put in order, good or bad. I have had pains and worry enough to get ready in two days."
"I believe that. Rodeck has not been inhabited for years, but now there will be life once more in the old walls."
"But the old walls will be stood on their head with it all," grumbled the castle keeper. "If you only knew how it looks there, Herr Oberforstmeister. The whole hunting hall is packed full of lion and tiger skins and all manner of mounted animals, and the live parrots and monkeys sit about in every room. There is such a noise and making of faces that one cannot hear a word at times; and now His Highness has announced to me, besides, that a whole herd of elephants and a large sea serpent are on their way here. I think apoplexy will overtake me."
"What is on the way here?" demanded Schonan, who could not believe his ears.
"A sea serpent and a dozen elephants. I have remonstrated with might and main. 'Your Highness,' I have said, 'we cannot house any more of the beasts, particularly not the sea serpent, for such a beast needs water, and we have no pond at Rodeck. As to the elephants--well, we will just have to tie them to the trees in the forest. If we cannot do that, I do not know what to do.' 'Good,' says His Highness, 'we will tie them to the trees, it will be a picturesque sight; and we will send the sea serpent to board at Furstenstein. That pond is large enough.' I beg of you, Herr Oberforstmeister, he will populate the whole neighborhood with those awful beasts."
The Chief Forester laughed aloud and patted the shoulder of the old man, who seemed to enjoy his special favor.
"But, Stadinger, did you really take that in earnest? Don't you know your Prince? It seems that he has not become more settled by his absence."
"No, really not," sighed Stadinger, "and what His Highness does not know, Herr Rojanow will surely find out. He makes it ten times worse. Oh, dreadful that such a madcap should fall to our lot!"
"Rojanow? Who is that?" asked Schonan, becoming attentive.
"Yes, that is what nobody knows exactly, but he is everything with us since His Highness cannot live without him. He found this friend somewhere back there in the heathen lands. The friend himself may be half a heathen or a Turk; he looks just like it, with his dark hair and his fiery eyes, and he knows how to command from the very bottom. He sometimes drives all the servants helter-skelter with his orders and actions, as if he was lord and master of Rodeck. But he is handsome as a picture--almost more so than our Prince, who has given strict orders that his friend has to be obeyed like himself."
"Probably some adventurer who takes advantage of the Prince. I can imagine that," muttered Schonan, continuing aloud: "Well, may God help you, Stadinger! I must go now to meet my brother-in-law. Do not let any gray hairs grow on account of the sea-serpent. If His Highness threatens you with it again, just tell him I would offer the Furstenstein pond with pleasure, but I must see it alive before me first."
He nodded laughingly at the old man, who looked much comforted, and walked toward the entrance portal.
Frau von Eschenhagen and her niece had also appeared, and the carriage now came in sight upon the broad forest road of the castle mount, rolling, a few minutes later, into the castle court.
Regine was the first to greet them. She shook her brother's hand so heartily that he drew back with a slight shudder. The Chief Forester remained in the background; he stood somewhat in awe of his diplomatic brother-in-law, whose sarcasm he secretly feared; while Toni allowed neither her uncle, His Excellency, nor his beautiful wife to rouse her from her composed deliberation.
The years had not passed Herbert von Wallmoden by as lightly as they had his sister; he had aged considerably; his hair had turned quite gray, and the sarcastic lines around his mouth had become more pronounced; otherwise he was still the cool, aristocratic diplomat--perhaps a few degrees cooler and more reticent than formerly. The superiority which he had borne to his surroundings seemed to have grown with the high position which he filled at present.
The young wife at his side would probably have been taken by every stranger for his daughter. He had truly shown good taste in his choice.
Adelaide von Wallmoden was, indeed, beautiful, although of that composed, serious beauty which usually aroused only calm admiration, but she seemed equal in every respect to the high position in life brought her by this marriage.
The young wife, scarcely nineteen years old, and who had been married but six months, showed perfect ease of manner--an unexceptional mastery of all forms, as if she had lived for years beside her elderly husband.
To his wife Wallmoden was politeness and attention personified. He now offered his arm to lead her to her room, returning in a few minutes to join his sister, who awaited him on the terrace.
The attitude of these two to each other was in many respects a strange one. The brother and sister were of the most pronounced opposites in appearance as well as character, and usually of opinion as well; but the blood relationship gave them, in spite of this difference, a feeling of closest union. This was evident as they sat together now after the long separation.
Although Herbert was somewhat nervous during the conversation, for Regine did not find it necessary to subdue her peculiar manner, causing him embarrassment more than once with her inconsiderate questions and remarks, he had long ago learned to consider that as unavoidable, and surrendered himself to it now with a sigh.
At first they spoke of the coming betrothal of Willibald and Toni, which had Wallmoden's full approval. He thought the match very suitable, and besides, every one in the family had been long acquainted with it.
But now Frau von Eschenhagen began an entirely different subject. "Well, and how do you feel as a husband, Herbert?" she asked. "You have certainly taken your time for it, but better late than never, and to speak the truth, you have had extraordinarily good luck in spite of your gray hair."
The Ambassador did not seem very well pleased at this allusion to his age. He pressed his thin lips together for a moment, and then replied with some sharpness: "You should really be a little more careful in your expressions, dear Regine. I know my age very well, but the position in life which I brought my wife as a wedding gift should counteract the difference of the years somewhat."
"Well, I should think the dowry she brought you was not to be slighted," remarked Regine, quite unconcerned as to the rebuke. "Have you already presented her at court?"
"Yes, two weeks ago, at the Summer Residenz. Mourning for my father-in-law prevented it before. We shall have open house in the winter as my position requires. I was most pleasantly surprised at Adelaide's manner at court. She moved upon the strange ground with an ease and composure which were truly admirable. I saw there again how happy my choice was in every respect. But I wish to inquire after several things at home. First of all, how is Falkenried?"
"Surely you do not need to ask me that? Are you not in regular correspondence with him?"
"Yes, but his letters grow shorter and more monosyllabic. I wrote him at length about my marriage, but received only a very laconic reply. But you must see him frequently, since he has been called to the position of Secretary of War. The city is near."
"You are mistaken there. The Colonel shows himself very rarely at Burgsdorf, and he is becoming more and more reticent and unapproachable."
"I am sorry to hear that; but he used always to make an exception of you, and I hoped much from your influence since he is back in your vicinity. Have you not tried, then, to renew the old intimacy?"
"I did at first, but finally had to give it up, for I saw that it was painful to him. Nothing can be done there, Herbert. Since that unfortunate catastrophe which both of us lived through with him he has changed into stone. You have seen him several times since then and know the ruin that has worked there."
Wallmoden's brow clouded and his voice was harsh as he returned: "Yes, that scoundrel--that Hartmut lies heavy upon his heart, but more than ten years have passed since then, and I hoped that Falkenried would return to sociable life in time."
"I have never had that hope; that blow went to the root of life. I shall never forget that evening at Burgsdorf while I live. How we waited and waited--first with restlessness and anxiety, then with deadly fear. You guessed the truth directly, but I would not permit myself to believe it--and Falkenried! I can see him yet as he stood at the window, looking fixedly out into the night pale as a corpse, with teeth tightly clenched, having for every fear expressed the one reply, 'He will come--he must come. I have his word for it.' And when, in spite of all, Hartmut did not come--when the night wore on and we finally learned upon inquiry at the railroad station that the two had arrived there in a carriage and taken the express train--God in heaven! How the man looked when he turned to leave, so mute and stiff! I made you promise not to leave his side, for I believed that he would blow his brains out."
"You judged him wrongly," said Wallmoden decisively. "A man like Falkenried considers it cowardice to lay hands on his life, even if that life has become torture to him. He stands up even to a lost post. Although what would have happened if they had let him go that time--I do not dare to surmise."
"Yes, I knew that he had asked for his dismissal, because to serve after his son had become a deserter did not accord with his ideas of honor. It was the step of despair."
"Yes, truly; and it was fortunate that his chiefs would not dispense with his military genius and force. The chief of the general's staff took the affair in his own hands and brought it before the king. They concluded finally to treat the whole unfortunate occurrence--at least as far as it could concern the father--as the act of a heedless boy, for which a highly deserving officer could not be held accountable. Falkenried had to take back his request for resignation, was transferred into a far-away garrison, and the affair silenced as much as was possible. It is, indeed, buried and forgotten now after ten years by all the world."
"It is not forgotten by one," finished Regine. "My heart burns sometimes when I think of what Falkenried was once, and what he is now. The bitter experience of his marriage had made him rather serious and unsocial, but occasionally the full charming amiability of his manner would break through, warm and hearty, from his inmost heart--all that is over. He knows now only the iron severity of duty--all else is dead. Even the old friendly relations have become painful to him. One has to let him go his own way."
She broke off with a sigh, which betrayed how near to her heart was the friend of her youth, and laying her hand upon the arm of her brother, she continued: "Perhaps you are right, Herbert, in that one chooses best and most sensibly in late years. You do not need to fear the fate of Falkenried. Your wife comes from a good race. I knew Stahlberg well. He had worked up to the heights of life with firmness and ability, and even as a millionaire he remained the upright man of honor he had ever been. Adelaide is the daughter of her father in every respect. You have chosen well and you my heartfelt wishes for your happiness."
Rodeck, the hunting lodge belonging to the possessions of the Prince of Adelsberg, was about two hours' distance from Furstenstein, in the midst of deepest forest loneliness. The small building, erected without much taste, contained at the most about a dozen rooms, whose old-fashioned and shabby furniture had been put in as good order as the short notice of the coming of the Prince permitted.
The little castle had not been inhabited for years and looked somewhat dilapidated, but when one emerged from the deep, dark forest into the opening, and beheld at the end of the wide green sward the old gray edifice with its tall, spiked roof and four steeples at the corners, it had truly something of the forest idyl about it.
The Adelsbergs had once been a reigning family, but a family that had long since lost its sovereignty. They had retained, however, the princely title, an enormous fortune, and a very extensive property. The once numerous family counted at present but few representatives; the main branch only a single one--the Prince Egon, who, as lord of all the family estates, besides being closely related to the reigning house through his late mother, played an important rôle among the nobility of the land.
The young Prince had always been considered a rover, who at times followed very eccentric notions and bothered himself very little about princely etiquette when he wished to follow some momentary whim. The old Prince had been very strict with his son, but his death made Egon von Adelsberg the sole master of his own will very early in life.
He had now returned from a tour in the Orient which had kept him in foreign lands two years, but instead of occupying the princely palace in town, or one of his other castles which were furnished with every conceivable splendor for a summer or fall visit, he took a notion to go to the old forest nook--the little half-forgotten Rodeck--which was not prepared for the honor of receiving its master, and could offer but scant accommodation.
Old Stadinger was right: one must never ask Prince Egon why. Everything depended entirely upon his momentary caprice.
In the morning of a sunny autumn day, two gentlemen in hunting costume stood upon the lawn at Rodeck talking with the castle-keeper, while a light open carriage stood upon the gravel road, ready for departure. At a casual glance the two young men bore a certain resemblance to each other. They had tall, slender figures, deeply tanned faces, and eyes in which glowed the whole fiery gayety and courage of youth, but upon closer examination the wide difference between them was apparent.
The Southern coloring of the younger one, who might, perhaps, be about twenty-four years old, was caused, apparently, by a prolonged stay under a hot sun, for the light, curly hair and blue eyes did not match it--they betrayed the German. A light beard, curly like the hair, framed a handsome, open face, which, however, did not follow any strict line of beauty. The forehead was rather too low, but there was something like bright sunshine in this face which charmed and won everybody.
His companion, several years his senior, had nothing of this sunny quality, although his appearance was more imposing. Slender like the younger one, he towered above him in height, and his dark complexion was not caused by the sun alone. It was of that olive tint which allows a pale face to still look fresh, and the blue-black hair which fell in thick waves over the high brow made the apparent paleness more noticeable. The face was beautiful, with its noble, proud lines so firmly and energetically pronounced, but upon it appeared also deep shadows lying over brow and eyes; such shadows as one seldom finds on youthful features.
The large, dark eyes, which had in their depths something gloomy, told of hot, unruled passions. In their flashing there was something uncanny but mysteriously attractive. One felt that they could charm with demoniac power; in fact, the whole personality of the man possessed this uncanny, entrancing charm.
"But I cannot help you, Stadinger," said the younger of the two gentlemen. "The newly arrived lot has to be unpacked and a place found for them. Where? that is your affair."
"But, Your Highness, if that is absolutely impossible?" argued the castle-keeper, in a tone indicating that he stood in rather familiar relations to his young master. "Not a nook is free any more in Rodeck. I have had trouble enough already to house the servants which Your Highness brought along, and now every day boxes large as houses arrive, and always it is 'Unpack, Stadinger,' 'Find room, Stadinger,' and in the meantime the rooms stand empty by the dozen in the other castles."
"Do not grumble, old forest spirit, but find room," interrupted the Prince. "The arrivals have to be put up here at Rodeck, at least for the present, and if the worst comes you will have to give up your own lodgings."
"Yes, certainly; Stadinger has room enough in his lodgings," joined in the second gentleman. "I shall arrange it myself and measure it all."
"And Lena can help you with it," added the Prince, supporting the proposal of his friend. "She is at home, is she not?"
Stadinger measured the gentlemen from head to foot, then answered drily:
"No, Your Highness, Lena is away."
"Where?" cried the Prince, starting up. "Where has she gone?"
"To town," was the laconic reply.
"What! I thought you intended keeping your grandchild at home all winter."
"That has been changed," replied the castle-keeper with imperturbable composure. "My old sister Rosa only is at home now. If you wish to measure my dwelling with her help, Herr Rojanow, she would consider it a high honor."
Rojanow glanced at the old man in no very friendly way, and the young prince said reproachfully:
"Now listen, Stadinger, you treat us in quite an unaccountable manner. You even take Lena away from us, the only one who was worth looking at. All else here in the female line have the sixties behind them, and their heads positively shake from old age; and the kitchen women you got from Furstenstein to help actually offend our sense of beauty."
"Your Highnesses do not need to look at them," suggested Stadinger. "I look out that the servants do not come into the castle, but if Your Highness goes into the kitchen like the day before yesterday----"
"Well, must I not inspect my servants at times? But I shall not go into the kitchen a second time--you have taken care of that. I have my suspicions that you have gathered here all the very ugliest of the Wald to celebrate my arrival. You ought to be ashamed, Stadinger."
The old man looked sharply and fixedly into his master's eyes, and his voice sounded very impressive as he answered:
"I am not ashamed a bit, Your Highness. When the late Prince, Your Highness' father, gave me this post of rest he said to me, 'Keep order at Rodeck, Stadinger--I rely upon you.' Well, I have kept order for twelve years in the castle, and in my house particularly, and I shall do that in future. Has Your Highness any orders for me?"
"No, you old, rude thing," cried the Prince, half laughing, half angry. "Make haste and get away. We do not need any curtain lectures."
Stadinger obeyed. He saluted and marched off.
Rojanow looked after him and shrugged his shoulders sarcastically.
"I admire your patience, Egon. You allow your servants very far-reaching liberty."
"Stadinger is an exception," replied Egon. "He allows himself everything; but he was not so much in the wrong when he sent Lena away. I believe I should have done the same in his place."
"But it is not the first time that this old castle-keeper has taken it upon himself to call you and me to order. If I were his master he would have his dismissal in the next hour."
"If I tried that it would turn out badly for me," laughed the Prince. "Such old family heirlooms, who have served for three generations, and have carried the children in their arms, will be treated with respect. I cannot gain anything there with orders and prohibitions. Peter Stadinger does what he will, and occasionally lectures me just as he sees fit."
"If you suffer it--such a thing is incomprehensible to me."
"Yes, it is a thing you do not comprehend, Hartmut," said Egon more seriously. "You know only the slavish submission of the servants in your country and the Orient. They kneel and bow at every opportunity, yet steal and betray their masters whenever they can and know how. Stadinger is of an enviable simplicity. My 'Highness' does not intimidate him in the least. He often tells me the hardest things to my face; but I could put hundreds of thousands in his hands--he would not defraud me of one iota of it. If Rodeck were in flames and I in the midst of it, the old man, with all his sixty years, would stand by me without a second thought. All this is different with us in Germany."
"Yes; with you in Germany," repeated Hartmut slowly, and his glance was lost dreamily in the dusk of the forest.
"Are you still so prejudiced against it?" asked Egon. "It cost me persuasion and prayers enough to get you to accompany me here--you fought so against entering German territory."
"I wish I had not entered it," said Rojanow, gloomily. "You know----"
"That all sorts of bitter remembrances have their origin here for you--yes, you have told me that; but you must have been a boy then. Have you not yet overcome the grudge against it? You have the most obstinate reticence, anyway, upon this point. I have not yet heard what it really was that----"
"Egon, I beg of you, leave the subject," interrupted Hartmut, harshly. "I have told you once for all that I cannot and will not speak of it. If you mistrust me, let me go. I have not forced myself upon you, you know that; but I cannot bear these inquiries and questions."
The proud, inconsiderate tone which he used toward his friend did not seem to be anything new to the Prince. He merely shrugged his shoulders and said pacifyingly:
"How irritable you are again to-day! I believe you are right when you insist that German air makes you nervous. You are entirely changed since you put foot on this soil."
"It is possible. I feel that I torture you and myself with these whims; therefore let me go, Egon."
"I know better! Have I taken so much pains to catch you, just to let you fly off again now? No, no, Hartmut, I shall not let you go by any means."
The words sounded playful, but Rojanow seemed to take them wrongly. His eyes lighted up almost threateningly as he returned:
"And what if Iwillleave?"
"Then I shall hold you like this."
With an indescribably charming expression, Egon threw his arm around his friend's shoulder. "And I shall ask if this bad, obstinate Hartmut can bring his conscience to desert me. We have lived together almost two years, and have shared danger and joy like two brothers, and now you would storm out into the world again without asking about me. Am I, then, so little to you?"
Such warm, heartfelt beseeching was in the words that Rojanow's irritation could not live. His eyes lit up with an expression which showed that he returned just as intensely the passionate, enthusiastic affection which the young Prince bore him, even if he was, in their mutual relationship, the domineering one.
"Do you believe that for the sake of any one else I would have come to Germany?" he asked in a low voice. "Forgive me, Egon. I am an unstable nature. I have never been able to stay long in any place since--since my boyhood."
"Then learn it now here at my home," cried Egon. "I came to Rodeck especially to show you my country in its entire beauty. This old edifice, which nestles in the midst of the deep forest like a fairy castle, is a piece of forest poetry such as you could not find in any of my other possessions. I know your taste--but I must really leave you now. You will not drive with me over to Furstenstein?"
"No; I will enjoy your much-praised forest poetry, which, it appears, is already tiresome to you, as you wish to make calls."
"Yes; I am no poet like you, who can dream and be enthused all day," said Egon, laughing. "We have led the life of hermits for a full week, and I cannot live on sunshine and forest perfume and the curtain lectures of Stadinger alone. I need people, and the Chief Forester is about the only person in the neighborhood. Besides, this Herr von Schonan is a splendid, jolly man. You will yet meet and know him, too."
He motioned to the waiting carriage, gave his hand to his friend, sprang to his seat and rolled away.
Rojanow looked after him until the vehicle had disappeared behind the trees, then he turned and took one of the paths which led into the forest. He carried his gun over his shoulder, but evidently did not think of hunting. Lost in thought, he walked further and further aimlessly, without noticing the road or direction, until deepest forest loneliness surrounded him.
Prince Adelsberg was right; he knew his friend's taste. This forest poetry took full possession of him. He finally came to a standstill and drew a deep breath, but the cloud upon his brow would not dispel; it grew darker and darker as he leaned against the trunk of a tree and allowed his eyes to roam about. Something not of peace or joy was depicted in those beautiful features, which all the sunny beauty around could not erase.
He saw this country for the first time; his former home was far removed in the northern part of Germany; nothing here reminded him directly of the past, and yet just here something awoke in him which seemed to have long been dead--something which had not made itself felt in all those years when he crossed oceans and countries, when intoxicating waves of life surrounded him and he drank with full thirsty draughts the freedom for which he had sacrificed so much--everything.
The old German woods! They rustled here in the south as up there in the familiar north; the same breath floated through the firs and oaks here which whispered there in the crowns of the pines; the same voice which had once been so familiar to the boy when he lay upon the mossy forest soil. He had heard many other voices since, some coaxing and flattering, some intoxicating and enthusiastic, but this voice sounded so grave and yet so sweet in the rustling of the forest trees--the fatherland spoke to the lost son!
Something moved yonder in the bushes. Hartmut looked up indifferently, thinking that some game was passing through, but instead of that he saw the glimmer of a light dress. A lady emerged from a narrow side path which wound through the forest, and stood still, apparently undecided as to the direction she ought to take.
Rojanow had started at the unexpected sight. It awoke him suddenly from his dream and called him back to reality. The stranger had also noticed him. She, too, seemed surprised, but only for a moment; then she drew near and said with a slight bow: "May I ask you, sir, to show me the road to Furstenstein? I am a stranger here and have lost my way in my walk. I fear I have wandered considerably from my path."
Hartmut had scanned the appearance of the young lady with a quick glance, and immediately decided to act as guide. Although he did not know the road about which she had asked--knew only the direction in which it lay--it troubled him but little. He made a deeply polite bow.
"I place myself entirely at your service, gracious Fraulein. Furstenstein is, indeed, rather far from here, and you cannot possibly find the road by yourself, so I must beg you to accept my escort."
The lady seemed to have expected the right direction to be pointed out, and the proffered escort was evidently not especially welcome, but she may have been afraid of losing her way a second time, and the perfect politeness with which the offer was made scarcely left her any choice. She bowed after a moment's hesitation and replied: "I shall be very much obliged to you. Please let us go."
Rojanow pointed out a narrow, half-covered path which led in the direction of Furstenstein, and entered it without further ado. He decided to retain his rôle as guide, for the little adventure began to interest him.
His protégé was, indeed, beautiful enough to make the encounter interesting. The pure, delicate oval of her face; the high, clear brow surrounded by shining blonde hair; the lines of the features--all was perfect symmetry, but there was something chilling in the strong regularity of these lines, which was rather increased by a mark of energetic will power most plainly pronounced. The young lady could not be more than eighteen or nineteen years old at the utmost, but she had nothing of the charm of mirth and gayety belonging to that age. The large blue eyes looked as calm and grave as if a girlish dream had never brightened them, and the same cold, proud composure was visible in the carriage and whole appearance.
This tall, slender figure affected one like a chilling breath. Her plain but elegant apparel showed that she belonged to the high classes.
Rojanow had time enough to observe her as he walked now behind her and now before, bending back the low-hanging bows, or warning of the unevenness of the ground. This narrow forest path was truly not comfortable, and proved itself not very appropriate for the toilet of a lady. More than once her dress was caught by the bushes; the veil of her hat was entangled in the boughs at every opportunity, while the mossy soil proved at times very damp and foggy.
All of this, however, was borne with perfect indifference, but Hartmut felt that he was not doing himself much credit with his post as guide.
"I am sorry to have to lead you over such a rough path, Fraulein," he said courteously. "I am really afraid of fatiguing you, but we are in the densest forest and there is no choice whatever."
"I am not easily fatigued," was the calm rejoinder. "I care little for the roughness of the road if it only leads to the desired end."
The remark sounded somewhat unusual from the lips of a young girl. Rojanow seemed to think so, and smiled rather sarcastically as he repeated:
"If it only leads to the desired end? Quite so--that is my opinion, but ladies are usually of a different mind; they wish to be borne softly over every inconvenience."
"All of them? There are also women who prefer to go alone, without being led like a child."
"Perhaps, as an exception. I prize the chance which gives me the good fortune of meeting such a charming exception----"
Hartmut was about to utter a bold compliment, but suddenly grew silent, for the blue eyes looked at him with an expression that made the words die upon his lips.
At this moment the lady's veil was caught again by a thorny bush, which held it fast relentlessly. She stood still, but hardly had her companion stretched forth his hand to disengage the delicate fabric, when she tore herself free with a quick motion of the head. The veil remained hanging in shreds on the bough, but his help had become totally superfluous.
Rojanow bit his lip. This adventure was developing quite differently from what he had expected. He had thought to play the agreeable in that bold, vainglorious manner which had become his second nature toward ladies, to a timid young being who trusted herself entirely to his protection, but he was being shown back to his proper place by a mere glance at his first attempt. It was made very clear to him that he was to be guide here and nothing else.
Who, then, in truth, was this girl who, with her eighteen or nineteen years, already showed the perfect ease of a great lady and who knew so well how to make herself unapproachable? He concluded to have light about it at any cost.
The narrow path now ended; they emerged into an opening, the forest continuing on the other side.
It was not easy to be a guide here, where one was as little acquainted with the country as Hartmut, but he would never confess his ignorance now.
Apparently quite certain, he kept in the same direction, choosing one of the wood roads which crossed through the forest. There must surely be a spot somewhere which would offer a free outlook and make it possible to find the right road.
The wider path now permitted them to walk side by side, and Hartmut took immediate advantage of it to start a conversation, which thus far had been impossible, since they had had to struggle with so many obstacles.
"I have neglected so far to introduce myself, gracious Fraulein," he commenced. "My name is Rojanow. I am at present at Rodeck, a guest of Prince Adelsberg, who enjoys the privilege of being your neighbor, since you live at Furstenstein."
"No; I am likewise only a guest there," replied the lady.
The princely neighbor seemed to be as indifferent to her as the name of her companion; at all events, she did not seem to consider it necessary to give her name in return, but accepted the introduction with that proud, aristocratic movement of the head which seemed to be peculiar to her.
"Ah, you live, then, at the Residenz, and have taken advantage of the beautiful fall weather for an excursion here?"
"Yes."
It sounded as monosyllabic and rebuking as possible, but Rojanow was not the man to be rebuked. He was accustomed to have his personality felt everywhere--to meet with consideration and importance, particularly among the ladies, and he felt it almost an insult that this oft-tested success was denied him here. But it excited him to enforce a conversation which apparently was not desired.
"Are you satisfied with your stay at Furstenstein?" he began anew. "I have not yet been there, and have only seen the castle from afar, but it seems to overlook the whole vicinity. A peculiar taste is needed, however, to find the country beautiful."
"And this taste does not seem to be yours."
"At any rate, I do not love the monotony, and here one has the same view everywhere. Forest and forest and nothing but forest! It is enough sometimes to create despair."
It sounded like suppressed resentment. The poor German forests had to atone for torturing the returned prodigal to such an extent that he had been upon the point several times of fleeing from their whispering and rustling. He could not bear it--this grave, monotonous tune of old times which the leaves whispered to him.
His companion heard, of course, only the sarcasm in the remark.
"You are a foreigner, Herr Rojanow?" she asked calmly.
A dark shadow passed again over Hartmut's brow. He hesitated for a moment, then replied coldly: "Yes, gracious Fraulein."
"I thought so; your name, as well as appearance, betrays it, and therefore your opinion is conceivable."
"It is certainly an unbiased opinion," said Hartmut, irritated by the reproach contained in the last words. "I have seen a great deal of the world, and have but now returned from the Orient. Whoever has known the ocean in its brilliant, transparent blue, or its majestic, stormy uproar; whoever has enjoyed the charm of the tropics, and been intoxicated with their splendor and coloring--to him these evergreen forest depths appear but cold and colorless, like all of these German landscapes, anyhow."
The contemptuous shrug of the shoulders with which he concluded seemed to finally arouse his companion from her cool indifference. An expression of displeasure flitted across her features, and her voice betrayed a certain excitement as she answered: "That is probably solely and entirely a matter of taste. I know, if not the Orient, at least the south of Europe. Those sun-glaring, color-shining landscapes intoxicate for the moment, certainly, and then they weary one. They lack freshness and strength. One can dream and enjoy there, but not live and work. But why argue about it? You do not understand our German forests."
Hartmut smiled with undeniable satisfaction. He had succeeded in breaking the icy reticence of his companion. All of his charming politeness had been without effect, but he saw now that there was something which could call life into those cold features, and he found it attractive to draw it out. If he offended by it, it did not matter; it gave him pleasure.
"That sounds like a reproof which, alas! I have to accept," he said, with an undisguised sneer. "It is possible that this understanding is wanting in me. I am accustomed to measure nature differently from most people. Live and work! It depends greatly upon what one calls living and working. I have lived for years in Paris, that mighty centre of civilization, where life throbs and flows in a thousand streams. Whoever is used to being borne on those sparkling waves cannot bring himself again into narrow,petitviews--into all those prejudices and pedantries which in this good Germany are called 'life.'"
The contemptuous stress which he put upon the last words had something of a challenge in it, and reached its aim.
His companion came to a sudden standstill and measured him from head to foot, while from the formerly cold, blue eyes there flashed a spark of burning anger. She seemed to have an angry reply upon her lips, but suppressed it. She only straightened herself to her fullest height, and her words were few and of icy, haughty reprimand.
"You forget, mein Herr, that you speak to a German. I remind you of it."
Hartmut's brow glowed dark-red under this stern reproof, and yet it was directed only to the stranger--the foreigner--who forgot the consideration of a guest.
If this girl had an idea who spoke so to her--if she knew! Hot, burning shame rose suddenly within him, but he was man of the world enough to control himself immediately.
"I beg your pardon," he said with a slight, half-sarcastic bow. "I was under the impression that we were exchanging only general views, which have the right of unbiased opinions. I am sorry to have offended you, gracious Fraulein."
An inimitable, proud and disdainful motion of the head assured him that he did not even possess the power to offend her. She shrugged her shoulders in a barely perceptible manner.
"I do not wish to bias your opinions in the least, but as our views are so widely different on this matter, we will do better to discontinue our conversation."
Rojanow was not inclined to continue it. He knew now that those cold, blue eyes could flash. He had wished to see it--had caused it to happen, and yet the matter had ended differently from what he had anticipated. He glanced with a half hostile look at the slender figure at his side, and then his eyes roamed resentfully again in the bitterly abused green depths of the forest.