Months had passed since the beginning of the war; the German hosts had
overrun France, and were girdling Paris with an iron ring, making its
surrender but a question of time, while upon the ruins of the empire
that had crumbled to decay at Sedan the young republic had been born to
pursue with the energy of despair the strife that had been bequeathed
to it by imperial policy.
The pretty village of Assais was among the foremost to declare itself
devoted to the republic, following the lead of the Marquise de Lancy,
the widowed chatelaine of the castle of Assais, who, although a Russian
by birth, was an enthusiastic supporter of the new government. Towards
the end of September, however, the Marquise had departed for England,
leaving the castle in the charge of a cousin, the Baron de Nouart, who
had arrived at Assais only a short time previously in company with the
brother of the Marquise, a Russian count. The Baron was reported to
have been so busy in Germany in the French interest that an asylum in
the castle of Assais was exceedingly welcome to him. His reputation in
this respect stood him in good stead with the villagers, who otherwise
were by no means favourably impressed by the appearance and manner of
the substitute of their fair chatelaine, which were those of a man of
dissipated life given over to the vice of drinking.
Assais had hitherto escaped any visit from the Prussian soldiery, but
its time of immunity had passed. One morning in October an officer of
Uhlans, with a small detachment of Prussians, spread terror in the
village by galloping through its principal street towards the castle,
where he demanded to speak with the Baron de Nouart. The Baron, who had
been apprised of the approach of the Prussians, had prepared to receive
them after rather a singular fashion. Retiring to his apartment, he had
donned a fiery-red wig, with a false beard and moustache of the same
colour, while a pair of dark-blue glass spectacles made the colour of
his eyes entirely undistinguishable. Thus disguised he appeared before
the young officer of Uhlans in the court-yard of the castle. The
officer scanned the strange figure before him rather curiously as he
asked whether he had the honour of addressing the Baron de Nouart, and
whether he could speak German. Upon being assured of the Baron's
identity, as well as of his inability to speak German, although he
understood it perfectly, the young man continued the conversation in
French, informing the Baron that a regiment of infantry and a squadron
of Uhlans were about to occupy Assais; that quarters must be provided
in the castle for the colonel, officers, and part of the men,--the rest
could be accommodated in the village. The more willing the inhabitants
showed themselves to receive the Prussian soldiers the less cause
should they have for complaint. Having delivered himself thus, and
having been assured by the Baron that the castle should be at the
disposal of the colonel when he arrived, the Uhlan departed with his
men to inspect the village accommodations.
The Baron was as good as his word. Towards evening, when Colonel von
Schlichting, with his officers, arrived, the preparations for their
reception were far more complete than was required by the rules of war.
The Baron kept himself in the background, and was visible only to the
Uhlan commander and the colonel, who was by no means favourably
impressed with the man who, hat in hand, received him in the castle
court-yard and in execrable German declared that he would gladly do all
in his power for the comfort of the German officers, but must request
to be allowed to retire, as he was a very sick man, most of the time
keeping his bed by the physician's orders. His servile demeanour
disgusted Count Von Schlichting; but he was obliged to admit that he
did not promise too much, so admirable was every arrangement for his
comfort.
At dinner, several of the officers expressed their surprise at finding
such luxurious quarters and such excellent wines in so secluded a spot,
and loudest in his praise was the Uhlan captain of horse, who had been
ordered with his squadron to the support of the Saxon regiment in the
work of ridding the surrounding country of the bands of franctireurs by
which it was infested. "There are no such quarters in all France!" the
captain cried, with enthusiasm; "such rooms, such a kitchen, and such a
cellar! Indeed, gentlemen, the Baron de Nouart deserves a toast for his
hospitality. He is not handsome, that there is no denying; but here's
to his health!"
The Saxon officers joined, laughing, in the Prussian captain's toast,
and even the colonel did not refuse it, although he drank it with no
genuine cordiality. He turned to Count Styrum, beside whom he was
sitting at the large round table in the dining-hall. "Are you as much
pleased with our host, Count, as are our Prussian comrades?" he asked,
in a tone too low to be heard by the others; "although I must confess
that our reception here has exceeded my expectations, I am most
unpleasantly impressed by our host; he reminds me of some one whom I
have seen, I cannot remember whom."
"That's odd," Count Styrum replied; "my own experience is the same. I
only saw the man for a moment, and at a distance, and yet it seems to
me that I have seen him somewhere formerly, though where I cannot for
the life of me remember."
"Are you sure?" the colonel asked.
"No, colonel; such fancies are very little to be relied upon. It struck
me, however, that the Baron beat a hasty retreat as soon as he espied
me, although I may have been mistaken there, too."
"It is a singular coincidence, however, and I begin to think that
Monsieur may have some reason for requesting that we will in future
communicate with him through his factotum Gervais."
The conversation was interrupted by Captain von Hohenwald, who came to
report that the men had been peacefully distributed among the
inhabitants both of Assais and of the neighbouring villages. Arno had
scarcely taken the place at table indicated to him by the colonel, with
whom he was a favourite officer, when the young Uhlan lieutenant, who
had brought the news of the approach of the regiment to Assais in the
morning, entered the dining-hall, and was presented by his superior
officer, Von Saeben, to Count Schlichting as Lieutenant von Poseneck.
Arno's attention was at once arrested upon hearing the familiar name.
He had never yet encountered Kurt von Poseneck,--Von Saeben's squadron
had joined Count Schlichting's regiment only two days previously, Kurt
reported that he had made a reconnoissance in all directions and had
found no traces of the enemy. This information convinced the colonel
that, for the present at least, there was no risk in enjoying to the
full the repose and hospitality offered at Assais.
And this the young officers certainly did. The best possible
understanding seemed to exist between the Prussians and Saxons, and the
hall resounded with mirth and laughter from the various groups into
which the large assembly soon divided.
One of these consisted but of three, Count Styrum, Arno von Hohenwald,
and Kurt von Poseneck. They had withdrawn to a corner of the hall and
were engaged in earnest conversation. How much there was to hear and to
tell! Arno felt every trace of the foolish hereditary prejudice fade
within him as he looked at the handsome young fellow, who showed in
every word and glance his pleasure in thus meeting his Celia's brother.
Only from Celia's letters had Arno heard of Kurt, who had written of
his advancement to the old Freiherr. Now Kurt was not only begged for
the story of his experience since the beginning of the war, but Arno
drew from him the account of his first meeting with Celia, and of how
Frau von Sorr--Arno felt the blood mount to his cheek at the name--had
learned by accident of the intimacy between them.
To that noble woman, Frau von Sorr, Kurt declared, glad indeed to make
a confidant of Celia's brother, did he owe it that his love for Celia
was no longer a secret. He had faithfully kept his promise never to
write to Celia, but he had written to Frau von Sorr two letters to be
forwarded to the Freiherr. One of these he feared had miscarried, as
Frau von Sorr had not alluded to it in her last letter to him.
Arno's heart beat furiously as he asked, with all the indifference he
could assume, "You correspond, then, with Frau von Sorr?"
"Yes. Frau von Sorr permitted me to write to her, and promised to
forward my letters to your father when there were any tidings of me to
be transmitted to Castle Hohenwald."
"Then you know where Frau von Sorr is at present, and how she has been
since leaving the castle?"
Kurt, all unmindful of the suppressed eagerness with which this
question was put, replied by giving a detailed account of Frau von
Sorr's departure from Gruenhagen for Berlin, whence she had retired with
her father to his beautiful estate, Kaltenborn, on the Rhine, not far
from S----, where she had found a secure retreat from her husband's
persecutions. On this score Herr Ahlborn was now quite easy, since Sorr
and the Finanzrath had both been obliged to flee the country as
proscribed traitors, and any return to Germany for them was impossible
until the war should be ended. In her last letter Frau von Sorr had
described her life with her father as all that she could desire,
telling Kurt that she, with various other women of S----, had
established a lazaretto for wounded soldiers, and that she had also
prepared accommodations at Kaltenborn for some few, for whom pure
country air might be specially desirable. She expressed a hope that
Kurt never might be wounded, but prayed him if he were and could
contrive it to be sure and be brought to her at Kaltenborn.
"And this," Kurt concluded, "I shall certainly do, if an unlucky bullet
should chance to lay me up for a time. I honour that woman from my very
soul; she is an angel!"
It was with difficulty that Arno restrained himself from chiming in
with Kurt's enthusiastic admiration; his respect for his sister rose on
the instant. What penetration and judgment she had shown in bestowing
her heart upon this excellent young fellow! As a reward he allowed Kurt
to read Celia's last letter,--a letter that transported the lover in
thought to the Hohenwald forest, so vividly did it bring his love
before him in all that makes girlhood bewitching.
Thus the hours flew by unheeded until the three friends found
themselves alone in the spacious hall, when, as they were not weary,
Kurt proposed a short walk before retiring to rest, and they all
sauntered out into the autumn moonlight that was flooding the garden
and park. They walked on aimlessly until, emerging from a thicket of
shrubbery, they saw before them one of the wings of the castle. All the
windows here were darkened except two upon the ground-floor directly
opposite them. The friends paused and gazed involuntarily into the
apartment thus revealed to them. It was a large room, luxuriously
furnished. In a cushioned arm-chair, beside a round table in the centre
of the apartment, sat the Baron de Nouart, and on the table, at his
elbow, stood a glass and a half-empty bottle.
Just as the officers emerged from the bushes some slight noise probably
attracted the Baron's attention. He raised his head, seemed to be
listening for an instant, and then arose hastily and drew close the
heavy curtains that had been open to admit the air.
"Let us turn round," Kurt said, in a low tone; "the Baron may else
suppose that we wish to spy upon him."
"Which would be a poor reward for the hospitality he has shown us,"
said Arno.
Styrum said nothing, but followed his companions, and not until they
had reached the open lawn before the balcony of the dining-hall did he
remark, "The Baron seemed in a great hurry to screen himself from
observation."
"Naturally," Arno rejoined; "he had good reasons for so doing. Unless I
am much mistaken, that was no wine-bottle at his elbow; it held good
cognac. A fellow at such night-work hardly likes to be seen."
"They told me in Nontron that he was an incorrigible drunkard; never
sober after noon," Kurt added.
Styrum shook his head; natural as was this explanation of the Baron's
conduct, it did not satisfy him. "He may be a drunkard," he said, "but
I am convinced that he had other reasons for drawing those curtains so
quickly,--the same probably that made him turn away this afternoon when
he saw me. I have surely seen that man somewhere; he knows me and fears
my recognition. What else did you hear about him in Nontron, Kurt?"
"Not much, but quite enough to justify any suspicion of his honesty. He
is said to be a distant relative of the widowed Marquise de Lancy, the
owner of the castle, where he made his appearance only a few weeks ago;
and although he is a zealous patriot, he is not, they say, a Frenchman,
but a Russian. They say, too, that he can speak German extremely well,
and yet this morning, when I addressed him in German, he could scarcely
reply in the same tongue, although he said that he understood it
perfectly. He is a suspicious character."
"I do not see any reason thus far for your distrust of him," Arno
observed.
"Nevertheless, the colonel shall learn what Kurt has told us," said
Styrum. "It is best to be upon our guard."
The friends then separated and betook themselves to repose.