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