The Finanzrath, when he stayed at the castle, occupied a spacious room
in a retired wing, where, between the windows, stood his writing-table
with its many drawers and compartments. This immediately attracted the
Geheimrath's attention. Upon it lay an unopened letter, which Steuber
at once took possession of and coolly opened. Looking up as he did so,
he smiled at the expression of an outraged sense of honour on Styrum's
face, and then read the letter aloud. "Make no further attempt to win
over your father and brother,--it might be dangerous. Unfortunately,
some of our friends have been very imprudent. I have received
trustworthy information that many of us are under strict surveillance.
The greatest caution is necessary; a new associate could avail us
little,--one traitor might ruin us. Your brother's friend, Count
Styrum, has already applied for re-admission to the army; if your
brother should do likewise, he will rank among our foes, not our
friends. Therefore I must entreat you to acquaint neither your father
nor your brother with any of our plans. More when we meet; until then
be upon your guard!" "And this precious epistle is signed 'A,'" the
Geheimrath added. "It tells me nothing new of the Finanzrath or his
friends, but it hints strongly that neither the old Freiherr nor his
younger son knows anything of the Herr Finanzrath's schemes. Do you
still think I did wrong to open the letter, Count?"
Without waiting for a reply the Geheimrath went on to search in the
most careful manner every drawer and pigeonhole of Werner's desk, but
his trouble was vain. The drawers were all unlocked, but not one piece
of written paper was to be found anywhere. "Hm! the Herr Finanzrath has
been expecting me," Steuber muttered, impatiently. "There is nothing
here, and I have searched everything except the waste-paper basket."
Thereupon he proceeded to examine all the papers it contained,
worthless scraps, one and all, until nothing remained except some small
fragments at the very bottom of the basket. Then, while the Count
looked on in impatient wonder, he carefully assorted these, perceiving
that they consisted of two kinds of paper, one bluish and stiff, the
other creamy and delicate, murmuring, as he did so, "There can hardly
be more than two notes here, or the number of scraps would be greater."
Styrum's interest began to be aroused. Since the Geheimrath now seemed
inclined to believe in the innocence of Arno and his father he was no
longer so distasteful to the Count, who testified his awakening
interest by drawing a chair up to the table and closely watching the
arrangement of the fragments of paper. His attention flattered the
Geheimrath, who showed himself in the most amiable humour. "We will
first undertake the strong, bluish paper," he said; "there are fewer of
the scraps, and our work will be comparatively easy. I fear, however,
that we are very indiscreet; the writing here is a lady's, and I
suspect we have to do with a love-affair." In a short time the sheet
lay completely fitted together before the official, who rubbed his
hands with his peculiar chuckle and said, "It is no love-letter; I was
mistaken; but it is from a lady, and not even addressed to the Herr
Finanzrath, but to Fraeulein Adele von Guntram, in M----."
"A letter to Adele!" Styrum exclaimed. "Do you know Fraeulein von
Guntram, Count?" "Certainly; the letter is addressed to my betrothed."
"Then the contents, which are quite incomprehensible to me, will
interest you all the more; perhaps you may divine from them how the
note came to be torn up in the Finanzrath's waste-paper basket." And he
read:
"What will you think of me, dear Adele, if a few hours after writing my
last letter I tell you not to heed the request it contained? I hope
soon to be able to let you know why I do this, but I cannot tell you
to-day. I cannot leave Castle Hohenwald, and so you are relieved of the
burden of looking for another situation for me. Farewell, dear; you
will soon hear farther from your
"Lucie"
Styrum listened with the greatest attention, but, although his
betrothed had told him of the letter from Lucie in which she had
entreated that another position might be found for her, he could give
the Geheimrath no information as to why this letter, which had
evidently been written since, should be found in the Finanzrath's
waste-paper basket.
Steuber tossed it aside and began upon the creamy-coloured scraps, over
which he worked diligently for nearly an hour. When the letter lay
complete before him he uttered an involuntary exclamation of delight.
"This," he said, "is a very important document; it puts me upon a fresh
scent. It is addressed to Count Repuin, care of Colonel von Berngberg,
in Cassel. Colonel von Berngberg has never before been suspected of
hostility to the government; this is a reward for all the trouble we
have had." Again the malicious twinkle of his eyes, the joy he
evidently felt at the implication in treasonable schemes of a man
hitherto thought loyal, disgusted Count Styrum, who, on the spur of the
moment, said haughtily "I must pray you, Herr Geheimrath, to spare me
the contents of this letter; any prying into official secrets is of
course extremely distasteful to me as a soldier and officer."
Steuber looked up from his work for a moment and nodded kindly. "I
understand you, Count, but, unfortunately, I cannot relieve you from
the duty of listening. I am working under orders, and in the service
for the time of your superior officer, whom you now represent. Besides,
I will wager that you will not regret listening to the letter that now
lies before me. It was written by the Finanzrath, and afterwards, for
some unknown reason, destroyed by him; and it runs thus:
"I write in the greatest haste, my dear Count, to tell you that I have
received intimations, whether from a trustworthy source or not I cannot
say, that our correspondence is known and watched. It is better to be
careful: therefore do not intrust your letters to the post again. Send
them in the way you know of; it is more secure, although less speedy,
than the post. I will make one more attempt to win over my father and
my brother, but I tell you frankly that I fear it will be fruitless. My
father is no politician, and Arno is an idealist whose heart is set
upon a united Germany. If he should re-enter the service he will
probably fight against our friends. Indeed, he is so enthusiastic a
'patriot' that it is questionable whether it would be wise to attempt
to influence him. Always yours,
"'W. Von H.'"
As he finished it the Geheimrath looked up to his companion with a
smile of triumph. "Are you satisfied now with my work, Count?" he
asked. "We may inform Count Schlichting that there can be no possible
pretext for arresting the Freiherr or his son Arno; not a shadow of
suspicion rests upon them. What do you think? For my part I consider
our search ended; there is nothing more to be found here. Let us go and
report to the colonel. My task at Castle Hohenwald is over."
Count Schlichting felt a sense of relief when the Geheimrath left the
garden-room and he found himself alone with his old friend and his
children.
"This is but a sorry errand of mine here, Hohenwald," he said, seating
himself beside the Freiherr's rolling-chair; "but you must not take it
ill of me, since I accepted the part assigned me in hopes that you
would rather see a friend than a stranger, odious although his duties
might make him in your eyes. I am rejoiced that Werner got wind of our
coming and has vanished; now my hope is that that cursed Geheimrath may
poke his infernal nose wherever he chooses in the castle without raking
up any evidence against you and Arno."
"Have you any doubts on that head?" the Freiherr asked, bitterly.
There was a degree of embarrassment in the colonel's air as he replied,
"No, not that; but politics nowadays are puzzling. I have the greatest
confidence in you; but who can judge for others? Here's the Finanzrath
doubtless an excellent fellow in other respects, has dabbled in plots
and schemes which are now thought treasonable, but which may, at
another turn of the wheel, lead him to a ribbon and star. To-day a
warrant of arrest is out against him, but who knows whether in another
month he may not be held in high honour in Saxony and Southern Germany?
I should be very sorry if you, old friend, and your son, who fought the
Prussians bravely four years ago, had been led into any indiscretions;
but indeed I could not blame you, for, God knows, it is hard enough for
us Saxons to fight shoulder to shoulder with our former foes, against
those to whom we owe it that we are not to-day in the position of the
poor Hanoverians and Hessians. I am an old soldier, and go wherever my
king sends me; but I cannot say that this time I unsheathe my sword
with any enthusiasm."
"I never rejoiced more to draw mine!" said Arno, whom the colonel's
expressions had evidently pained. "In 1866 I fought with bitterness, a
German against Germans, and I left the service with a savage hatred for
Prussia smouldering within me; to-day it is forgotten in love of
country, of the German fatherland, of which Prussia is now the
representative, standing foremost in the conflict with the arch-enemy
of German freedom, and as the defender of our German Rhine against
French greed of territory. If my brother can have forgotten the duty he
owes to his country, it is all the more incumbent upon me to do what I
can to wash away all stain of treason from the Hohenwald name."
"That you will surely do, my dearest brother!" Celia cried, with
glowing cheeks. "Your fidelity will atone for Werner's treachery, and
our father will bless you for vindicating the honour of his name."
The colonel looked at them with a smile as he stroked his gray
moustache, and said, "Aha, I see clearly that Steuber's long nose will
soon forsake Castle Hohenwald! You have cause to be proud of your
pretty daughter and your son, old friend; still, we will not judge
Werner; let every man be true to his own convictions. I hear with
pleasure, Herr von Hohenwald, that you wish to re-enter the army. I am
at your service in this matter; nothing would give me greater
satisfaction than to have so brave an officer in my regiment, and I
will, if you authorize me to do so, apprise the king of this when I
take him the news to-morrow of our fruitless errand to Castle
Hohenwald."
This offer Arno gladly accepted, and it was thereupon agreed that he
should accompany the colonel to Dresden that he might immediately join
his regiment. All of the little party in the garden-room, in the
interesting conversation that ensued, quite forgot the object of the
colonel's visit, and were only reminded of it after a long hour by the
entrance of Count Styrum with the Geheimrath.
While Arno was greeting his friend with cordial delight, Steuber set
the colonel's mind entirely at rest by his report, and by the request
that the dragoons might be sent back to A---- and himself relieved of
all further duty, since no possible suspicion could attach to any of
the present inmates of the castle.
A quarter of an hour later the obnoxious official took his departure,
while the colonel and Styrum, upon the Freiherr's earnest invitation,
remained in the castle a few hours longer, that Arno might conclude his
preparations for leaving, and accompany them to A----, there to take
the night train to Dresden.
The time for parting came. The colonel and Styrum took leave of the old
Baron and went down into the court-yard, where the carriage was in
waiting. Arno was left alone for a moment with his father and sister.
The old man was deeply moved. It evidently caused him an effort to
release his son's hand from the firm clasp in which he held it, while a
tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek upon his silver beard. "Farewell,
Arno! farewell, my dear son, pride and delight of my age," he said,
drawing his son gently down to him and, for the first time since that
son had grown to manhood, pressing his lips to his brow. "Farewell,
Arno!" he repeated. "Make me one promise before you go. If, when you
return, I am no longer here, be a father to my Celia. I place her
happiness in your hands. You must not sacrifice it to an hereditary
prejudice, but make good a promise I gave our Anna, and if you ever
meet Kurt von Poseneck in the war forget the family feud, and treat him
kindly. For Celia's sake look upon him as a brother, for I have
promised our Anna that when he comes back he shall be Celia's husband."
Celia threw her arms around her father's neck and burst into tears, but
the old man gently put her away from him, and, paying no heed to Arno's
look of startled inquiry, lay back in his chair. "Go, children!" he
said, in a feeble voice. "You must leave me. This parting is almost
more than I can bear. Celia, go with Arno to the carriage. Farewell, my
dearest son! Your father's blessing be upon you in the coming struggle
for the fatherland!"