It was autumn again, and the warm, golden light of a September day lay
upon the woodland, which stretched away like a green ocean as far as eye
could reach.
Hill and valley alternated with each other, all forest clad, and many a
mighty and moss-grown trunk in that great wilderness told of the forest
primeval which in the early days had covered all this part of South
Germany. Elsewhere in the land, railways had been built, until there was
scarcely a hamlet whose slumbers were undisturbed by the shrill scream
of the locomotive--but "the forest," as the people called it, remained
apart, cut off from the world, a vast territory many miles in width,
like a great, green island, unmoved by the waves of commotion and
progress from without.
Here and there amid the forest green a little village peeped out, or an
old castle reared its gray and weather-beaten battlements on high, as if
protesting against its impending decay. There was but one building in
the whole region which yet stood strong, intact and massive,
notwithstanding it was gray with age.
It was called Fürstenstein, and was originally built as a hunting box,
for the use of the sovereign. The duke's head forester occupied it all
the year round; and during the hunting season some members of the ducal
family always held court there for several weeks. It had been built in
the early part of the last century, with the lavish waste of room which
marked the style of that period. Standing on a high elevation, it
commanded a superb view over the surrounding country.
The approach to the castle allowed no view of its proportions, for woods
covered the hill upon which it stood, and in places tall fir trees threw
their shadows on tower and turret, so that one scarcely realized the
immensity of the building until he stood quite at the entrance gate.
There were also a number of little structures clustering around the main
edifice, which had been added at different periods. Time was not allowed
to make inroads here; everything was in perfect order and repair, and
the countless rooms on the second floor were always kept ready for the
prince, who took possession of them at any time.
The head forester, von Schönau, had occupied the immense ground floor
for years, and between filling his house with guests, and making
frequent visits to his neighbors, managed to have a very agreeable time,
notwithstanding the lonely situation.
He had visitors now; his sister-in-law, Frau Regine von Eschenhagen had
arrived yesterday, and her son was expected soon. The two daughters of
the Wallmoden family had made good marriages; while the elder married
the heir to Burgsdorf, the younger had wedded Herr von Schönau, the son
of a wealthy landed gentleman of a noble South German family.
The sisters, in spite of the distance which separated them, had always
maintained a close and affectionate intercourse, and since Frau von
Schönau's death, which occurred a few years after her marriage, Frau
Regine had kept up the intimacy with her brother-in-law.
It was a singular enough friendship which existed between these two, for
they always met, armed cap-a-pie, for battle. They were both strong,
inconsiderate natures, and every time they saw one another they
quarrelled, and as regularly made their peace again, always promising
there should be no further strife between them, which promise was kept
until their next dispute, for which some opportunity would give rise,
sometimes within an hour after their reconciliation, when another
pitched battle would begin, as passionate and wordy as the last.
At the present moment there seemed a truce between them as they sat on
the terrace in front of the reception room. The head forester, in spite
of his advancing years, was an erect, stately man, with strong, sunburnt
features; his hair and beard were slightly gray, but still luxuriant.
Now he leaned back in his chair listening to his sister-in-law, who
generally did most of the talking. Frau Regine was now in her fiftieth
year, but the last ten years had not changed her much; her life ran on
so smoothly and evenly.
A wrinkle was to be found here and there in her face, and silver threads
were weaving their way into her dark hair, but the gray eyes had lost
nothing of their clearness and sharpness, the voice was as full and
resolute as ever, and her bearing as erect and energetic as formerly.
"Willibald will be here in eight days," she was saying. "The harvesting
was not quite done; but everything will be finished within the week, and
then he can come to meet his bride. The matter has been settled between
us for a long time, but I was resolved to postpone it for some time, for
what did a young thing of sixteen or seventeen, with childish notions
still in her head know about the orderly direction of a household? Now
that Toni is twenty years old, and Will twenty-seven, it is all right.
Are you still perfectly satisfied that this betrothal is the best thing
for our children's future?"
"Perfectly satisfied," assented the head forester. "I think everything
is as it should be. One half my fortune will go, some day, to my son,
the other half to my daughter, and I think you may be well content with
the portion I have set aside as Toni's wedding gift."
"Yes, you have been very liberal. As to Will, he came into possession of
Burgsdorf three years ago; the remainder of the fortune remains, by the
will, in my hands, and at my death goes, of course, to him. But I've
seen to it that the young people won't suffer. I have made ample
provision for them."
"No need for haste. We are only going to celebrate the betrothal now;
the marriage won't be until next spring."
And now the first cloud appeared on the clear heaven of their perfect
harmony. Frau von Eschenhagen shook her head and said dictatorially:
"We won't postpone it any longer now. The wedding must take place this
winter. Willibald has no time to get married in the spring."
"Nonsense, a man always has time to get married," declared Schönau, just
as dictatorially.
"Not in the country," asserted Frau Regine. "There something else must
be considered; first work, then pleasure. That's always been the rule
with us, and that's what I've taught Will."
"I trust he'd make an exception as regards his young wife; otherwise
he's little better than a milksop," cried the forester, angrily. "Above
all, Regine, you must remember my stipulation. My Toni has not seen your
son for two years. If he does not please her--she has free choice, you
understand."
His speech touched his sister-in-law on her most sensitive point; her
motherly pride was outraged.
"My dear Moritz, I have more confidence than you, apparently, in your
daughter's good taste. As for the rest, I hold to the good old custom
that children should marry whom their parents select. It was that way in
our day, and we have found no cause of complaint. What do young people
know of such serious matters any way? But you have let your children
have their own way from the very start; any one could soon tell that
there was no mother in this house."
"Well, was that my fault?" asked Schönau, incensed. "Perhaps, I ought to
have given them a step-mother. I suggested it to you once, but you
wouldn't hear of it, Regine."
"No, I had been married once," was the dry answer, and it seemed to
increase the head forester's irritation. He shrugged his shoulders
spitefully.
"Well, I certainly think you had no cause for complaint against poor
Eschenhagen. He, and all his people at Burgsdorf danced when you piped.
With me you would not have ordered the regiment about so easily."
"In about four weeks," Frau Regine declared calmly, "you would all have
been under my command, Moritz."
"What! You say that to my face? Well, I'd just like to prove it for
once," retorted Schönau, full of wrath now.
"Thank you, I shouldn't care to marry a second time, so give yourself no
uneasiness."
"I can assure you I didn't mean an offer. I wouldn't think of such a
thing for a moment. One refusal was enough for me. So you need not
trouble giving me a second one."
With these words the master of the house rose, pushed back his chair
noisily, and left his guest abruptly. Frau von Eschenhagen remained
quietly sitting alone for some time, then she called out in a friendly
tone:
"Moritz."
"What is it?" he growled from the other side of the terrace.
"When are Herbert and his young wife coming?"
"At twelve o'clock," the voice had an ill-tempered ring yet.
"I am so glad. I have not seen him since he was sent to the South German
capital, but I have always maintained that Herbert was the pride of our
family, and he keeps up enough state for us all. Now you see he is
Prussian ambassador at your court, and is 'Your Excellency.'"
"And then he's a young husband of six and fifty, don't forget that,"
interrupted the forester spitefully.
"Yes, he took his time about marrying, but he made a dazzling match at
last. For a man of his years it was no easy matter to win such a wife as
Adelheid, young, beautiful, rich--"
"And of common birth," added Schönau.
"Stuff and nonsense! Who asks any questions now-a-days about birth when an
immense fortune stands behind it? Herbert can use money now, too; he has
been hampered for means his life long, and now, as ambassador, he needs
more to keep up the position than he could possibly supply. But my
brother need never be ashamed of his father-in-law. Stahlberg was at the
head of one of our greatest industries, and a man of honor, through and
through. It was a pity he died so soon after his daughter's marriage.
At all events they made a very sensible choice."
"So that's what you call a sensible choice, do you, when a girl of
eighteen marries a man old enough to be her father?" asked Schönau, who,
in the heat of discussion, came back to his sister-in-law again. "To be
sure she has a high place in society now, as the wife of His Excellency,
the Ambassador, and is a baroness and all that. But to me this
beautiful, cool Adelheid, with her 'sensible' ideas, which would do a
grandmother credit, is not at all sympathetic. A thoughtless maiden, who
falls over head and ears in love, and then declares to her parents,
'This one, or none,' suits me far better."
"Those are fine opinions for the father of a family to express," cried
Frau von Eschenhagen, much ruffled. "It's a good thing that Toni
inherited my sister's good sense, otherwise she would be coming to you
with some such a speech one of these days. But Stahlberg educated his
daughter better. I know it from himself. She was trained to follow his
wishes, and accepted Herbert at once when he offered himself. But of
course you know nothing about educating children; it stands to reason
that you should not."
"What? I, a man and a father, and know nothing about educating
children?" cried Schönau, red with anger. They were now both on the fair
way to have another pitched battle, when they were happily interrupted
by the appearance of a young girl, the daughter of the house, who
stepped out on the terrace at this moment.
Antonie von Schönau could never be called beautiful, but she had her
father's fine figure and a fresh, glowing face, with clear brown eyes.
Her nut-brown hair was laid in smooth braids around her head, and her
attire, although perfectly suitable for a girl of her station, was yet
quite simple. But Antonie was in the first bloom of youth, and that
charm outweighed all others. As she stepped out now, looking so fresh
and rosy and healthy, she was a daughter after Frau Regine's own heart,
and that lady immediately brought the strife to an end and gave her a
smiling nod.
"Father, the carriage is on its way back from the station," said the
young lady, in very deliberate, almost drawling tones. "It is at the
foot of the castle hill already, and Uncle Wallmoden will be here in
fifteen minutes."
"Bless me, they have driven quickly!" exclaimed her father, whose face
had cleared at the news. "Are the guest chambers in order?"
Toni nodded composedly, as if to say her duties were never neglected;
then, as her father left the terrace to watch the approach of the
guests, Frau von Eschenhagen, with a glance at the basket which the girl
carried on her arm, said:
"Well, Toni, you are always busy."
"I have been in the kitchen-garden, dear auntie. The gardener declared
there were no more ripe pears, so I went out to see for myself, and
picked a whole basket full."
"That's right, my child," said her future mother-in-law, highly pleased,
"you must keep an eye on the servants and use your hands, too,
occasionally, if you want to get on in this world. You'll make a fine
housekeeper. But come, now, we must go to meet your uncle, too."
Herr von Schönau was already far across the terrace, and was just
starting down the broad flight of stone steps which led from the castle
court, when a man stepped out from one of the side buildings, and stood,
respectful and silent, with his hat off.
"Well, Stadinger, is that you? What's brought you to Fürstenstein?" the
head forester called out. "Come here!"
Stadinger approached as commanded; in spite of his snow-white hair he
came forward with a firm, erect step, while a pair of sharp, dark eyes
peered out from his brown, weather-beaten face.
"I was with the castellan, Herr von Schönau," he explained, "and have
been asking him to lend us a few of his servants to help us, for we're
busy up to our eyes at Rodeck, and have not people enough for all the
work."
"Ah, yes, Prince Egon is back from his Oriental tour. I heard that
before," said Schönau. "But how does it happen that he's come to such a
small place as Rodeck, with little room and less comfort?"
Stadinger shrugged his shoulders. "Heaven knows! But our young prince
follows his own sweet will, and no one dare ask why. One morning the
news came, and the castle people hardly know whether they are standing
on their heads or their heels. I had enough trouble to get the place
ready in two days."
"I can believe that; no one has visited Rodeck for years, but the
prince's visit will put some life in the old walls, at any rate."
"Well, it turns everything topsy-turvey," growled the castle steward.
"If you only knew how we have been upset, Herr Schönau. The hunting-room
is crammed full of lion and tiger skins, and all sorts of stuffed
animals, and monkeys and parrots are sitting around in all the rooms.
The whole place is in such an uproar from them that one can't hear one's
self speak. And now his highness has just announced to me that there are
a troop of elephants and a great sea-serpent on the way. I think I
struck a blow at them, though."
"What is on the way?" inquired the head forester, who did not believe he
had heard aright.
"A sea-serpent and a dozen elephants. I have fought against them with
all my might. 'Your highness,' I said, 'we cannot accommodate any more
animals, and as to the sea-serpent, such a beast will need water and we
have no pond at Rodeck. And if the elephants do come we'll have to chain
them to trees in the forest, I know no other way.'"
"'That's just the thing' his highness answered, 'just chain them to the
trees, that'll be very wild and picturesque, and we'll send the
sea-serpent to board at Fürstenstein; the castle fish-pond is big
enough.' Herr Schönau, he will people the whole neighborhood with these
monsters, I believe."
The head forester laughed aloud, and gave the steward, who seemed to
enjoy his special favor, a hearty slap on the shoulder.
"But, Stadinger, have you really taken all this in earnest? You ought to
know the prince better. He certainly does not seem to come back any
steadier than he went away."
"No indeed, he does not," sighed Stadinger. "And what his highness does
not devise for himself, Herr Rojanow hatches for him. He is the worst of
the two. It's hard lines that such a dare-devil should be quartered on
us."
"Rojanow? Who is he?" asked Schönau, all attention now.
"I hardly know, but he's come with the prince, who cannot live without
him. He met this friend in some heathen country. Maybe he is a
half-heathen, or Turk; he looks enough like one, with his dark face and
strange eyes. And the fellow, with his airs and orders acts as if he
were the lord and master of Rodeck. But he's as handsome as a picture,
handsomer even than our prince, who, by the way has given orders that
Herr Rojanow is to be obeyed in all things just like himself."
"More than probable it's an adventurer with whom the prince is amusing
himself," murmured Schönau, and aloud he said: "Well good-bye,
Stadinger, I must meet my brother-in-law now, and don't lose any sleep
over the sea-serpent. When his highness threatens you with it again,
tell him I will gladly keep it for him in our fish-pond, but I must see
it alive first."
He nodded laughingly to the old steward and stepped down to the entrance
gateway. Frau von Eschenhagen and her niece were already there, and a
minute after he joined them, the carriage turned into the broad, smooth
road and was driven rapidly up to the great entrance.
Regine was the first to greet the travelers. She pressed her brother's
hand so heartily that he was forced to draw it back. The head forester
was somewhat diffident; he had a certain feeling of shyness in the
presence of his diplomatic brother-in-law, whose sarcastic tongue he
secretly feared. But Toni did not allow "his excellency" her uncle, or
his wife, either, to ruffle her wonted composure.
The years had not treated Herbert von Wallmoden so gently as they had
his sister. He had aged perceptibly; his hair was grey now, and the
sarcastic lines around his mouth had deepened. But he was the same cold
aristocrat as ever, perhaps even a shade colder and more distant. With
the exalted position to which he had attained, the feeling of
superiority, which had ever been his chief characteristic, seemed to
strengthen.
The young wife by his side was always taken by strangers to be his
daughter. Unquestionably the ambassador's choice had proved his good
taste. Adelheid von Wallmoden was indeed lovely, but her beauty was of
that chill, statuesque type which awakens only cold admiration, and she
seemed to have been born to occupy the position in the world to which
her marriage had raised her. The young bride, not quite nineteen, and
only six months a wife, exhibited a coolness of behavior and as complete
a knowledge of all the forms and obligations of her social position, as
if she had been at the side of her elderly husband for half a lifetime.
Wallmoden was politeness and attentiveness itself to her. He offered her
his arm now, after the first greetings were over, to conduct her to her
own apartments, and a few minutes later returned alone to the terrace to
have a talk with his sister.
The intercourse between this brother and sister was in many respects
very singular.
Regine was as uncouth in outward appearance as she was rugged in
character, and the direct opposite of her courtly brother in every
particular; but still, as they sat side by side now, after their long
separation, there was a look on both faces which told that the
mysterious bond of kinship was much to them both, despite the antagonism
which so often came to the fore.
Herbert was made rather nervous during their conversation, for Regine
did not think it necessary to refrain from brusque questioning or candid
comment, and her brother was frequently embarrassed and annoyed by both,
but he had learned from experience the uselessness of striving to check
her open speech, so gave himself up to the inevitable with a sigh. Of
course, among other things, she spoke of Willibald's and Toni's
betrothal, of which Wallmoden fully approved.
The subject had been worn threadbare long years ago, so there was little
really to be said. And now Frau von Eschenhagen branched off on another
theme.
"Well, Herbert, how do you feel now you're a married man?" asked his
sister. "You certainly were long enough about making up your mind, but
better late than never, and I must admit that for an old gray-head like
you, you have made a very good selection."
This frank reference to his age did not seem to please the ambassador;
he pressed his lips tightly together for a moment, and then answered his
sister sharply:
"My dear Regine, you should strive to use a little tact in your
conversation. I know my age well enough, but the position which I
occupy, and to which I elevated Adelheid by marriage, more than
compensates for the difference in our ages."
"Well, that's true enough, and the marriage portion she brought you is
not to be despised," assented Regine, quite unmoved by his sharp tones.
"Have you presented your wife at Court yet?"
"Yes, two weeks ago, at the summer Capitol. My father-in-law's death
prevented my doing so before. But this winter we must keep open house,
as my position demands it. I was greatly surprised and pleased at
Adelheid's behavior at Court. She acted with a calmness and proud
security, upon this entirely strange ground, which was worthy of all
praise. I was all the more convinced how wise my choice had been in
every respect. Well now, about home matters; before everything else,
tell me about Falkenried?"
"Well, what is there for me to tell? Don't you write one another
regularly?"
"Yes, but his letters are always short and monosyllabic. I wrote him of
my marriage, but his congratulations were very laconic. You must see him
frequently, since he has been made minister of war, as you are so near
the city."
A shadow darkened Regine's clear eyes, and she shook her head sadly.
"You are mistaken, the colonel scarcely ever comes to Burgsdorf. He
grows more reserved and unapproachable each year."
"I am sorry to hear it; he has always made an exception of you, and I
hoped you could use your influence to bring him often to Burgsdorf. Have
you made no attempt to renew the old intimacy?"
"I did at first, but I have finally given it up as hopeless, for I saw
that I was only annoying him. There is nothing to be done, Herbert.
Since that unfortunate catastrophe he has been turned to stone. You have
seen him several times yourself, since then, and know he lives bereft of
hope."
Wallmoden's face clouded darkly, and his voice was very bitter as he
replied: "Yes, that boy Hartmut has done for him, that's certain. It's
over ten years ago now, however, and I did hope Falkenried would take
some interest in life again by this time."
"I never hoped that," said Frau von Eschenhagen, earnestly. "The life
has all gone from the roots. I shall never forget, as long as I live,
how he looked on that fateful evening, when we waited and waited, first
with uneasiness and apprehension, then with deadly anxiety. You grasped
the truth at once, but I would not let you say a word while there was a
chance. I can see him now as he stood at the window staring out into the
night, with drawn features and face like death, and to every word of
ours only the one answer. 'He will come! He must come! I have his word.'
And when in spite of all, Hartmut did not come, and we repaired to the
railway station at daybreak, only to learn that they two, mother and
son, had taken the express train hours before. God preserve us, may I
never see such a look on a man's face again. I made you promise to stay
by him, for I thought he would put a bullet through his heart before the
day was over."
"You were wrong there," said Wallmoden with decision. "A man of
Falkenried's temperament would consider it cowardice to commit suicide,
even though the days of his life were one continued torture. I do not
venture to think what would have happened though, had he been allowed to
carry out his intention at that time."
"I know," interrupted his sister, "that he asked for his discharge,
because, with his keen sense of honor, he could not bear to serve
longer, after his son had become a deserter. It was a step prompted by
despair."
"Yes, and it was his only salvation, that he, with his military
knowledge and skill, was not allowed to sink into oblivion. The chief of
the General's staff took up the matter and brought it before the King,
and they decided that the father should not be allowed to sacrifice
himself for a boy's rash action, and that the service could not lose
such a highly esteemed officer. So they would not accept his
resignation, but permitted him to go to a distant garrison, where the
matter was never mentioned in his presence. Now, after ten years, it's
buried and forgotten by the whole world."
"With one exception," said Regine sorrowfully. "My heart aches whenever
I think of what Falkenried once was, and what he is now. The bitter
experience of his marriage made him gloomy and unsocial, but in good
time he recovered himself a little, and his whole soul turned to his boy
and his boy's advancement. Now everything is lost and the rigid, stark
fulfilment of duty is all that remains; all else is dead within him, and
as a sequence, all his old friendships have become painful to him--we
must let him go his own way."
She broke off with a sigh, as the face of her girlhood's friend came
before her mind's eye. Then laying her hand on her brother's arm, she
said in conclusion:
"Perhaps you are right, Herbert, when you say that a man chooses more
wisely when he has come to years of discretion. You need not fear
Falkenried's fate; your wife has good blood in her veins. I knew Herr
Stahlberg well; he worked earnestly and with capability, too, or he
would never have succeeded as he did in life. And he was ever an honest
man, even after he became a millionaire, and Adelheid is her father's
daughter, bone and sinew. You have chosen well for yourself, and I
rejoice with you from the bottom of my heart."
* * * * *
The little hunting castle of Rodeck which belonged to the princely house
of Adelsberg, lay but a few miles distant from "Fürstenstein," in the
midst of the deep forest. The small, plain building containing at most
but a dozen rooms, had been hastily prepared for the unexpected coming
of the prince. It had not been used for years, and had a neglected
appearance. But as one stepped out from the dark, gloomy forest upon the
light greensward, and saw the old building with its high, pointed roof,
and its four little towers guarding the corners, it seemed very
picturesque in its loneliness.
The Adelsbergs were old-time princes of the German empire who had long
since lost their sovereignty, but who still retained their princely
title, together with an immense fortune which included very great landed
possessions. The family had dwindled in number so that there were but
few representatives left, and only one in the direct line, Prince Egon,
and he as owner of the family estates and through kinship on his dead
mother's side with the reigning house, played a conspicuous part among
the nobility of the country.
The young prince was understood to be very wild and erratic, and a man
who was always forming eccentric attachments. He cared little for
princely etiquette, and followed the whim of the moment. The old prince
had held the reins with a tight hand, but at his death Egon von
Adelsberg became his own master, and since that time, had followed his
own free course without check or restraint.
He had just now returned from a two years' tour in the East, and instead
of going to his palace in the capital, or to one of his magnificently
appointed castles, always in readiness to receive him, no matter what
the season, he had, on the spur of the moment, decided upon this little
hunting castle of Rodeck, where he could not be comfortably housed, and
where the few retainers who took charge of the place, were ill-prepared
for such an honor. But as old Stadinger had said, no one dare ask why of
the prince; he did as the humor of the hour pleased him.
It was the morning of a sunny autumn day. Upon the broad velvety lawn,
two men attired in hunting costume, were standing talking to the
steward, while in the broad court a few yards beyond, stood a light,
open carriage, awaiting its owner's pleasure. The two young men seemed,
at a first glance, to resemble one another. Both had tall, slender
figures, deeply browned faces, and eyes in which the fiery arrogance of
youth burned fiercely; but a nearer view showed how totally dissimilar
they were, after all.
It was evident that the younger man, who was about twenty-four years
old, owed his dark complexion to his long residence beneath a fierce
sun, for his light, curly hair and blue eyes were not the fitting
accompaniments for such a browned skin, but were unquestionably German.
He had a blonde beard, curly like the hair which surrounded his
handsome, open countenance, but the face hardly coincided with one's
ideas of perfect beauty. The forehead was somewhat too narrow and the
features were not regular, but something in his expression reminded one
of clear sunshine, it was so good-natured and so winning.
His companion, who was a few years his senior, had nothing of this
sunlight in his face, although his appearance was undoubtedly the more
distinguished of the two. Slender, like his companion, he was much the
taller, and his dark skin was not the legacy of an eastern sun. It was
of that faint brown which makes the freshest face look pale, and the
blue-black hair, which fell in heavy locks on his high forehead, only
served to heighten this appearance of pallor. It was a beautiful face,
with its noble, proud lines so marked and expressive, but there were
deep shadows on it, too, on the brow and across the eyes, shadows found
but seldom in so youthful a countenance. The great, dark eyes in which a
shade of melancholy always lay, spoke of hot, unrestrained passion, and
the fire which blazed within them had a mysterious, unearthly
fascination. One felt that these orbs possessed some uncanny power, but
they were in accord with the man's whole personality, which had about it
something of this same strange witchery.
"Well, I cannot help you, Stadinger," said the younger of the men. "The
new cases must be unpacked and places found for the things. Where--that
is your business."
"But, your highness, it is absolutely impossible!" remonstrated
Stadinger, in a tone which showed that he was on a pretty sure footing
with his young master. "There's not an empty corner in all Rodeck. I
have had the greatest trouble already to house all the people your
highness brought with you, and every day chests bigger than a house are
arriving, and ever the same cry: 'Unpack that, Stadinger! Make a place
for this, Stadinger.' And hundreds of rooms empty in the other castles."
"Stop grumbling, you old ghost of the woods, and make places,"
interrupted the prince. "The chests that have come must be unpacked in
Rodeck for the time being at least, and if the worst comes to the worst,
you must find room in your own house for them."
"Yes, indeed, Stadinger has room and to spare in his own house for
them," it was the tall, dark man who spoke now. "And I'll superintend
the unpacking myself."
"That's a good plan," said the prince, heartily, "and Zena can assist
him; she is at home yet, I suppose?"
"No, your highness, she has gone away."
"Away!" cried prince Egon. "And where has she gone?"
"To the city," was the laconic answer.
"That won't do. You should keep your grandchild with you here at Rodeck
all winter."
"That matter seems to have arranged itself," answered the steward with
quiet dignity. "Just now my old sister, Rosa, is at home with me. If you
should come to my humble dwelling, Herr Rojanow, she would feel greatly
honored."
Rojanow gave him a glance which was anything but friendly, and the young
prince said sharply:
"Look here, Stadinger, you are treating us after a most unwarrantable
fashion. You send Zena away, for no reason in the world, and she's the
only one worth seeing about the whole place. There's not a woman in
Rodeck who isn't past sixty and whose head doesn't wobble from side to
side, and as to the belles of the kitchen whom you brought from
Fürstenstein to help us out, they're worse looking than our own people."
"Your highness need not look at them," suggested the steward. "I gave
strict orders that none of the maids were to come into the castle, but
if your highness goes to the kitchen, as you did the day before
yesterday--"
"Well, I must inspect my domestic arrangements once in a while. But I
won't go near the kitchen a second time, I promise you that. But I'm
provoked enough at you for having gathered together all the repulsive
looking creatures in the neighborhood as soon as you knew I was coming.
You should be ashamed of yourself, Stadinger."
The old man looked his young master full in the face, and his voice had
an impressive sound, as he answered: "I am not at all ashamed, your
highness. When that prince of blessed memory, your father, assigned me
to this peaceful post, he said to me: 'Keep everything quiet and orderly
at Rodeck, Stadinger; remember, I depend upon you.' Well, I have kept
everything in order around this castle for twelve years, and more
especially have I guarded those of my own household, and I mean to do so
for the future, too. Has your highness any other orders for me?"
"No, you old boor!" cried the prince, half amused, half angry. "Go on,
now; we don't need any sermon on morals."
Stadinger obeyed, he bowed low and marched off. Rojanow glanced after
him and shrugged his shoulders with a sneer.
"I admire your forbearance, Egon; you certainly permit your servants to
speak very freely--"
"Oh, Stadinger is an exception," declared Egon. "Of late days he has
allowed himself great latitude, but as to his sending Zena away he
wasn't far wrong. I'd have done the same thing in his place."
"It isn't the first time the old fellow has made so bold as to call us
both to account. If I were his master--he'd get his dismissal in this
same hour."
"I'm afraid if I attempted that, it would be all the worse for me,"
laughed the prince. "Such an old heir-loom, who has served three
generations already, and trotted me on his knee as a baby, deserves to
be treated with respect. I would gain nothing by commanding and calling
him to account. Peter Stadinger does what he pleases, and whenever it
suits him, reads me a little text into the bargain."
"How you can permit such liberties is incomprehensible."
"It is natural that you should not understand it, Hartmut," said his
friend, earnestly. "You only know the submissiveness of Sclavish
servants in your own home, and in the Orient. They kneel and prostrate
themselves whenever opportunity offers, and betray their masters at
every turn, when it can be done with safety. Stadinger is a man with no
civility in him. It doesn't make the least difference to him that I am
'your highness.' He is no respecter of persons, and has often said the
most insulting things to my face, but I could leave hundreds of
thousands in his hands, and he would guard every pfennig, and if Rodeck
were in a blaze, and I within it, his seventy years would not prevent
him plunging into the flames to rescue me--that's how it is with us in
Germany."
"Yes, with you in Germany," Hartmut repeated slowly, as he fixed his
eyes dreamily on the forest shadows.
"Are you as much prejudiced against us as ever?" asked Egon. "I had to
beg you hard enough to get you to come with me, for you seemed resolved
never to put foot on German soil again."
"I would I had not done so," said Rojanow, darkly. "You know--"
"That you associate bitter memories with my country--yes. You told me
that much, but you must have been a boy at the time. You should have
outgrown your dislike by now. You are, on this point, so obstinately
reserved, that to this day I have never learned what it is that you--"
"Egon, I beg you, drop the subject," said Hartmut, almost rudely. "I
have declared to you more than once, that I will not and cannot speak on
the subject of my early life. If you are suspicious of me, let me go; I
have not forced myself upon you, you know that, but I will not endure
this questioning."
The hard, proud tone which he used toward his princely friend, seemed
not unknown to the latter, who only shrugged his shoulders and said
appeasingly:
"How excited you get in a moment; I believe you are right when you
maintain that the air of Germany makes you nervous. You certainly have
changed since you set foot in the country."
"Possibly; I feel it myself, and I know I annoy you with my queer
tempers lately, so you'd better let me go, Egon."
"I will guard you well, instead. I did not catch you so easily that I
can let you fly again after all my trouble. So remember that, Hartmut,
for I won't let you go free at any price."
The words had a joking sound, but Rojanow seemed to resent them. His
eyes were dark, almost threatening, as he replied:
"But what if I will go?"
"But you won't, for I will hold you closer than ever." Egon laid his
arm affectionately on his friend's shoulder. "I wonder how this bad,
obstinate Hartmut can answer to his conscience for even thinking of
leaving me alone. Have we not lived together for nearly two years, and
shared the same dangers and pleasures like brothers? And now you talk
about deserting me, without even a question as to how I'll get along
without you. Do you think I value your friendship so little, dear old
fellow?"
The words were so warm and sincere that Rojanow's ill-temper was
conquered. His eyes lighted up at the mention of their long and close
friendship, and he answered in a voice which bespoke a sincere affection
for his friend:
"Do you think that any one but you could have drawn me to Germany at
all?" he said, softly. "Forgive me, Egon. I am an unstable nature and
have always been a rover since--since my boyhood."
"Well, learn to settle yourself here--here in my home," exclaimed Egon.
"I only stay at Rodeck that you may see its many and varied beauties.
This old building, hidden away in the midst of the forest, is a
veritable production of fairy-land, a woodland poem, such as you will
not find at any of my other castles. The others suit me better, though I
know this is to your taste. But now I must really go. You won't ride?"
"No, I will enjoy the much-praised poetry of these woods, which seem to
weary you so soon. You can make your visit alone."
"I'll admit I'm not a poet like you, who can muse and dream all day
long," said Egon laughing. "For a full week we have led hermits' lives,
but I cannot live on sunshine, woody odors and Stadinger's sermons any
longer. I must see my fellow-men, and the head forester is the only
gentleman in the neighborhood; and besides, Herr von Schönau is a
splendid, jolly fellow. You will like him when you meet him."
He jumped into the carriage, waved a parting greeting to his friend, and
was off. Rojanow looked after him until the vehicle had disappeared
behind the trees, then he turned and struck into a path which led into
the forest.
He carried a gun over his shoulder, but his thoughts were not bent on
sport. He went on heedlessly, with no idea of direction, and with no
thought of the distance which he was putting between himself and Rodeck,
which was each moment becoming greater.
Prince Adelsberg was right when he said he knew this wild, mountain
scenery was to his friend's taste. The very air had for him a certain
sorcery. He stood still at last and took some long, deep breaths, but
the cloud on his brow had not yet disappeared; it grew darker instead,
as he leaned against a tree and cast his eyes around him.
The beauty of the sunny, autumn day, the picturesqueness of the grand
old wood, could not bring to this handsome, joyless face one expression
of peace or content.
He saw this country for the first time; his boyhood's home lay far to
the north, and yet this place, so different from his father's birthplace
and his own, brought back the past with all its painful recollections,
and awakened anew within him feelings he had thought long dead and
buried. Feelings and thoughts which had never troubled him during the
long years in which by land or sea, he had drunk of that freedom for
which he had sacrificed so much.
The old German woods! They whispered here in the South, just as they had
done in the North; the same wind moved the branches of the fir and the
oak, and whistled through the tops of the distant pine trees. Yes, these
were the self-same voices which had once told all their secrets to the
willful boy lying on the mossy bank of the Burgsdorf fish pond.
There was a stir and sound as of some one moving between the trees.
Hartmut looked up indifferently, expecting to see an animal of some kind
spring out, but he saw instead the fluttering of a light gown between
the low bushes, and from a little side path, which he had not before
noticed, a young lady stepped out, almost in front of him, and stood
hesitatingly, evidently uncertain what direction to take.
Rojanow was roused from his dreaming by this unexpected apparition, and
the stranger caught sight of him at once. She appeared surprised, too,
but only for a second, then she stepped forward, and said, with a slight
bow:
"May I beg you, sir, to show me the way to Fürstenstein? I am a stranger
here and have lost my way, and am, I fear, far from the place I seek."
Hartmut had taken in at a glance the young lady's appearance; and
resolved immediately to become her guide. He did not know the way for
which she inquired, and only had a vague idea of the direction in which
the castle lay, but that troubled him little. He bowed gracefully as he
said:
"I place myself quite at your disposal, Fräulein. Fürstenstein is some
distance from here, and it would be impossible for you to find the way
alone. I must, therefore, beg you to allow me to accompany you."
The lady had expected nothing more than that the way would be pointed
out to her; this stranger's offer was not altogether agreeable, but she
feared she might lose her way a second time, and the perfect politeness
with which the offer was made, scarcely left her any choice. After a
moment's hesitation she bowed slightly and said:
"I thank you. Pray let us lose no time, then."