After some hours the two friends were alone together in Wallmoden's
study. The latter had just made the unavoidable as well as painful
disclosure. He had told the Colonel under what circumstances Rojanow
was in the city, and had unveiled to him uncompromisingly everything he
knew of Hartmut's life and that of his mother, finally informing him of
her death.
He had feared this hour, but the result was quite different from what
he had expected. Mutely Falkenried leaned against the window with
folded arms and listened to the long explanations, without interrupting
by a word or gesture. His face remained cold and impassive; no quiver,
no motion betrayed that he heard those things which must bring anguish
to his heart. He was now also "a man of stone."
"I believed I owed these explanations to you," concluded the Ambassador
finally. "If I have kept what I knew of the fate of the two from you so
long, it was done solely that you might not be tortured unnecessarily
with what was hard enough for you to overcome. But you had to learn now
what has happened, and how matters stand at present."
The Colonel retained his position and his voice betrayed no mental
excitement as he replied:
"I thank you for your good will, but you could have spared yourself
these explanations. What is that adventurer to me?"
Wallmoden looked up amazed; he had not expected such a response.
"I thought it necessary to prepare you for the possibility of meeting
him," he returned. "As you have heard, Rojanow now plays an important
role; he is celebrated everywhere. The Duke is deeply wrapped up in
him. You might meet him at the castle."
"And what then? I do not know anybody by the name of Rojanow, and he
will not dare to know me. We should pass each other as strangers."
The Ambassador's gaze rested searchingly upon Falkenried's features as
if to fathom this real coldness or incomprehensible self-command.
"I thought you would receive the news of the reappearance of your son
very differently," he said, half aloud.
For the first time he intentionally used this title; hitherto he had
merely said Rojanow. But now, for the first time also, an emotion was
visible in the calm figure at the window. But it was an emotion of
anger.
"I have no son--remember that, Wallmoden. He died to me that night at
Burgsdorf, and the dead do not rise."
Wallmoden was silent; the Colonel approached him and laid his hand
heavily upon his arm.
"You said just now that it was your duty to enlighten the Duke, and
that you had not done so solely out of consideration for me. I
have, indeed, but one thing to guard in the world--the honor of my
name--which, through that exposition, would be at the mercy of the
world's raillery and scorn. Do what you think you must do--I shall not
hinder you. But--I shall also do what I have to do."
His voice sounded as cold as before, but it contained something so
awful that the Ambassador started up in affright.
"Falkenried, for heaven's sake, what do you mean? How am I to interpret
those words?"
"As you like. You diplomats define honor differently at times from us.
I am very one-sided about it."
"I shall keep silence inviolably, I pledge you my word," assured
Wallmoden, who did not understand the last bitter hint, for he had no
idea of Adelaide's confession. "I had decided on that before you came;
the name of Falkenried shall not be sacrificed by me."
"Enough, and now no more of it. You have prepared the Duke for what I
bring?" asked Falkenried, passing on to an entirely different subject
after a short pause. "What has he to say to it?"
Here again was the old iron, unbending will, which put aside all
questioning; but the sudden change seemed to be acceptable to the
Ambassador. He was, here as well as elsewhere, the wise diplomat who
dreaded nothing so much as public exposure, and who would never have
thought of exposing Hartmut, had he not feared that by a possible
leaking out of the truth later and of his knowledge of it, it might be
counted against him. Now, in the worst case, he could cover himself
with the promise he had given the father. Even the Duke must
acknowledge that he--Wallmoden--had had to spare his friend. The shrewd
Herbert knew how to calculate here, too.
The stay of Colonel Falkenried was only of short duration, and during
the time he had no rest. Audience with the Duke--conferences with high
military dignitaries, communications with his own embassy--all were
crowded within a few days.
Wallmoden was hardly less occupied, until finally everything was
settled. The Ambassador, and especially Colonel Falkenried, had reason
to be satisfied with the results, for everything had been successful
that was expected and desired by their government, and they could be
sure of the highest appreciation at home.
Only the most nearly connected circles knew that something important
was going on, and even in these circles only a few knew the full
importance of the conferences. Scarcely anything was noticed in public,
which, therefore, occupied itself only the more with its present
favorite, the poet of Arivana, whose incomprehensible behavior made him
so much more interesting in the Residenz.
Almost immediately after that brilliant triumph of his work he had
withdrawn from all praise and homage, and had gone into "forest
solitude," as Prince Adelsberg laughingly informed all questioners.
Where this solitude was, nobody learned. Egon assured them that he had
given his word not to betray the place of his friend's seclusion, for
he needed rest after all his excitement, but would return in a few
days. Nobody knew that Hartmut was at Rodeck.
* * * * *
Within the week, one cold winter morning, the carriage of Herr von
Wallmoden stood at his palace door. It seemed to be preparing for a
long excursion, for servants were carrying furs and travelling rugs to
it, while upstairs in the room where they had just breakfasted, the
Ambassador was taking leave of Colonel Falkenried.
"Until to-morrow evening, _auf wiedersehen_," he was saying as he shook
hands. "We shall be back by that time without fail, and you will surely
remain a few days longer?"
"Yes, since the Duke wishes it so particularly," answered the Colonel.
"I have so reported it to Berlin, and my report left on the same train
that carried yours."
"Yes, I believe they will be satisfied with these reports; but it
has been a hot time. We had no rest all those days. Now, fortunately,
everything is arranged, and I can afford to absent myself for
twenty-four hours to drive to Ostwalden with Adelaide."
"Ostwalden is the name of your new country home? I remember that you
spoke of it yesterday. Where is it situated?"
"About two miles from Furstenstein. Schonan drew my attention to it
while we were with him and I looked at the place at that time. It is
rather an extensive possession in the famous Wald, beautifully
situated, but the price was too high at first, which has delayed the
settlement. We have but now come to a final understanding."
"I believe Ada is not quite satisfied with your selection. She seems to
have something against the vicinity of Furstenstein," interrupted
Falkenried, but the Ambassador only shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
"A caprice, nothing more. At first Adelaide was quite delighted with
Ostwalden, but later she raised all sorts of objections--but I cannot
pay any attention to that. I shall probably remain there for
considerable periods, as I no longer like to travel far in the summer.
A country seat which is only four hours removed from town is therefore
of great value to me. The castle itself is in rather a dilapidated
condition at present, but something can be made of it. With appropriate
changes and additions it can be made a really superb residence, and I
intend doing that. I shall therefore look it over carefully, so that
the plans can be finished as soon as possible. I have not been there as
yet since I bought it."
He made his statements with much evident satisfaction over his plans.
Herbert von Wallmoden, who had originally possessed only a limited
fortune, and was compelled to expend it with great care, had suddenly
found it necessary to buy a sumptuous place in town, where he lived
only temporarily, and to have a princely villa for his summer
residence. But he did not find it necessary to consider the wishes
of his wife, whose wealth made it possible to him to play the great
land-owner.
Falkenried may have had such ideas while listening, but he did not
speak of them. He had turned graver and stonier, if possible, in the
last few days, and if he really asked a question or made a remark
during the conversation, one could see it was but mechanical, and
because he had to say something.
Only when Adelaide entered, perfectly equipped for the journey, he
arose promptly and offered his arm to lead her to the carriage. He
lifted her in, and Wallmoden, who followed her, leaned once more from
the carriage door. "We shall assuredly return to-morrow. Au revoir."
Falkenried bowed and stepped back; It was indifferent to him whether he
saw the friend of his youth again. This, too, had lost its interest;
but when he ascended the steps, he murmured half aloud; "Poor Ada, she
deserved a better fate!"