The little hunting castle of Rodeck, which lay so cold and lonely in
the first December snowy days, had seldom seen such excitement as
to-day.
It was about noon when the two Foresters, whose firing was the innocent
cause of the disaster, brought the injured Ambassador to the house.
They had known that the longer march to Furstenstein was impossible, so
they turned toward Rodeck, which lay scarcely a quarter of an hour's
walk from the place of the accident.
Hartmut Rojanow, who was at the castle, was immediately called, and had
made the necessary arrangements with quick decision. The rooms which
Prince Adelsberg usually occupied were put at the disposal of the
Baroness, and a messenger was despatched on horseback for the nearest
physician, who, fortunately, was easy to reach.
When the doctor's statement allowed no hope, Stadinger was sent to
Furstenstein to summon the relatives, who soon arrived, but only to
find Herr von Wallmoden dying. He did not regain the consciousness
which he had lost in that awful fall; he lay there immovable,
recognizing no one; and when the day drew to a close all was over.
The Chief Forester, with Willibald, returned to Furstenstein toward
night. He had sent a telegram before leaving Furstenstein, to notify
the Embassy of the sad accident which had befallen its chief, and now
had to follow it with the announcement of his death.
Frau von Eschenhagen had remained at Rodeck with her brother's widow.
To-morrow preparations would be made to carry the body to the Residenz,
and the two ladies wished to remain at his side until then.
Adelaide, who had proved so courageous during the danger, and who had
done her full duty at the bedside of her husband, seemed, now that this
duty was over, to give way entirely under the sudden and prostrating
blow. She was stunned and dazed by the awful accident.
* * * * *
At the window of his room, which was in an upper story, stood Hartmut,
gazing out into the desolate forest, which glittered so ghostly in the
dim starlight. Yesterday had brought the first snow, and now everything
was stiff in its cold embrace. The large lawn in front of the castle
was deeply covered; the trees bent heavily under their white burden,
and the broad branches of the firs were bowed to the ground.
Up there in the dark night sky, star after star shone in calm splendor,
and far off on the northern horizon dawned a slight rosy light, like
the first greeting of the dawn. And yet it was night cold, icy cold,
winter night, in which as yet no ray of the coming day could fall.
Hartmut's eyes were riveted upon the mysterious glow. In his heart,
too, it was dark, and yet something dawned there, fair and low,
like the dawn of the morn. He had not seen Adelaide von Wallmoden
since that fatal hour upon the forest height, until he met her
to-day at the side of her husband, who had been borne, bleeding and
unconscious--dying--into the castle.
This sight forced back every remembrance, and demanded assistance to
the extent of his power. He had not entered the death chamber, and had
only received the doctor's report; neither had he appeared upon Frau
von Eschenhagen's arrival, but later on had spoken with the Chief
Forester and Willibald. Now everything was decided. Herbert von
Wallmoden was no longer among the living, and his wife was a widow--was
free.
A deep breath agitated Hartmut's breast at the thought, and yet nothing
joyful was in it, although his feelings had undergone a change since
the hour he ventured his highest stake and--lost.
But that hour had proved to him the deep abyss which was open between
them even now that the bond of Adelaide's marriage was broken. She had
"shuddered" before the man who believed in nothing--to whom nothing was
sacred, and he was the same man he had been then.
He had offered an apology without words in the creation of the added
portion of Arivana which bore her name, but Ada had floated back to the
heights from which she had come with her cry of warning, and mankind,
with their glowing hate and love, remained upon earth.
Hartmut Rojanow could not force the hot, wild blood which flowed in his
veins into a quiet movement; he could not bow to a life full of strict
obedience and duty--neither did he wish to. For what had the genius
which won his way everywhere been given him, if it could not lift him
over the duties and barriers of every-day life?
And yet he knew that those large, blue eyes pointed inexorably to the
hated path--that would never do.
The red glimmer over the forest yonder had turned darker and risen
higher. It looked like the reflection of a powerful fire; but that
calm, steady light came from no fire. Immovable it stood in the north;
mysterious, high, and far removed--an aurora in approaching splendor.
The rolling of a carriage coming near in great haste broke Hartmut from
his revery. It was past nine o'clock; who could arrive at such an hour?
Perhaps it was the second physician who had been sent for in the
afternoon, but who had been away from home; perhaps some one from
Ostwalden, where the news may have already been carried.
Now the carriage turned the corner of the lawn; the wheels crunched
upon the hard, frozen ground, and the vehicle reached the main entrance
of the castle.
Rojanow, who to-day represented the master of the house, left his room
and started to meet the new arrival. He had reached the stairs which
led down to the entrance hall, and put his foot upon the first step,
when he suddenly shuddered and remained rooted to the spot.
Down there a voice spoke which he had not heard for ten long years; it
was suppressed, and yet he recognized it at the first moment.
"I come from the Embassy. We received a dispatch this afternoon, and I
took the first train to hasten here. How is he? Can I see Herr von
Wallmoden?"
Stadinger, who had received the newcomer, replied in such low tones
that the import of his words was lost to Hartmut, but the stranger
asked hastily: "I do not come too late?"
"Yes, mein Herr. Herr von Wallmoden died this afternoon."
A short pause followed, then the stranger said, huskily but firmly:
"Lead me to the widow--announce Colonel von Falkenried."
Stadinger turned to go, followed by a tall figure in a military cloak,
of which one could see only the outlines in the dimly-lighted hall.
The two figures had long ago disappeared in the lower rooms, and still
Hartmut stood leaning on the baluster, looking downward. Only when
Stadinger returned alone did he collect himself and retire to his room.
Here he walked restlessly for a quarter of an hour. It was a hard,
silent conflict which he waged. He had never been able to bend his
pride; had never humbled himself, but he had to bow low before his
deeply offended father--he knew that. But again a burning, absorbing
longing overcame him, becoming all-powerful and finally conquering. He
drew himself up resolutely.
"No, I will not shrink like a coward now. We are under one roof; the
same walls surround us; now it shall be ventured. He is my father and I
am his son."