"You too, Egon?"
In the tone of the questioner who waited several minutes in vain for an
answer, there lay deep bitterness. "And you too, Egon, who have so
often told me that nothing should hamper the flight of the poet; that
he must break the fetters which would hold him to the ground. I did
that--and you would have done the same."
The Prince drew himself up with the firmness of decision.
"No, Hartmut; you are mistaken there. Perhaps I should have fled from a
strict school, but from the colors--never!"
Here it was again--the harsh words which he had already heard once
before--"fled from the colors." It forced the blood to his brow again.
"Why did you not become an officer?" continued Egon. "You could
have become one early at your home; you could have taken your leave
then at an age when life only commences. Then you would have been
free--honorably."
Hartmut was silent. His father had told him the same, but he had not
wanted to wait and submit himself to rules. A barrier had stood in his
way, and he simply threw it down unconcernedly. But he threw down duty
and honor with it.
"You do not know all that stormed upon me at that time," he replied,
heavily. "My mother--I do not wish to accuse her--but she has been my
doom. My father had separated from her in early life. I thought her
dead, when suddenly she entered my life and snatched me to her with her
burning mother love--with her promise of freedom and happiness. She
alone is responsible for that unfortunate breaking of my word----"
"What word?" interrupted Egon, excitedly. "Had you sworn to the
standard?"
"No, but I had given my father my word to return when he allowed me the
last conversation with my mother----"
"Instead of which you fled with her?"
"Yes."
The answer was almost inaudible and was followed by a long pause. The
Prince spoke never a word; but in his open, sunny face deep, bitter
pain was depicted--the bitterest of his life, for at this moment he
lost his so passionately loved friend.
At last Hartmut resumed, but he did not raise his eyes. "You understand
now why I want to force an entrance into the army at any price. Now
that war has broken out, the man can atone for the boy's sin. Therefore
I left Sicily immediately after the first threatening news, and flew as
in a storm to Germany. I hoped to be able to hasten to arms. I had no
idea of all the difficulties and hindrances which would be put in my
way. But you can put them aside, if you intercede for me."
"No, I cannot do that," said Egon, coldly. "After what I have heard
just now, this is impossible."
Hartmut turned deathly white and stepped up close to Egon with a
vehement gesture.
"You cannot? That means--you will not?"
The Prince was silent.
"Egon!" Wild, stormy entreaty was in the tone. "You know I have never
made a request of you--this is the first and last one. But now I
beg--entreat you for this friendly service. It is the relief from the
doom which has hung over me since that hour. The reconciliation with my
father--the reconciliation with myself--you must help me!"
"I cannot," repeated the Prince. "The rejection to which you have been
subjected may hurt you deeply--I believe it--but it is only just. You
have broken with your fatherland--with your duties--and that cannot be
mended so easily without anything further, when one has become of a
different opinion. You fled from the service of our standard--you, the
son of an officer! Now the army is closed to you, and you must bear
it."
"And you tell me that so calmly--so coldly!" cried Hartmut, beside
himself. "Do you not see that it is a question of life or death to me?
I saw my father again that day at Rodeck, when he hastened to the
deathbed of Wallmoden. He crushed me with his contempt--with the awful
words he threw into my face. It was that which drove me away from
Germany, which chased me ceaselessly from place to place. His words
went with me and made life a hell to me. I have greeted the war cry as
a deliverance. I want to fight for the fatherland which I once cast
from me, and now the door which is open to every one is closed to me
alone. Egon, you turn from me! Oh--there is only one way left for me!"
With a sudden, passionate motion he turned to the table, where the
Prince's pistols were lying; but the Prince sprang at him and tore him
back.
"Hartmut, are you out of your senses?"
"Perhaps I shall be so. All of you torture me beyond endurance."
Boundless despair lay in those words.
Egon, too, had turned pale, and his voice trembled as he said: "Before
it goes so far--I will try to find an opening in a regiment for you."
"At last! I thank you."
"However, I cannot promise you anything, for the Duke has to be put
altogether aside now. Besides, he leaves to-morrow for the battlefield.
Should he learn later on that you serve in his corps, we shall then be
in the midst of the storm of war, and one does not ask 'How' and 'Why'
in the face of a completed fact. But it may take days before the
decision arrives. Will you be my guest?"
Formerly the Prince would have accepted that as only natural and would
have been exasperated if his friend had refused; now he made the
inquiry, and Hartmut felt what lay in the cold question.
"No, I shall not remain in town," he replied. "I shall go to the
Forester at Rodeck, and I beg that you will send your answer there. I
can return here in a few hours."
"As you wish. Then you will not go to the castle?"
Hartmut gazed at him with a long, sad look.
"No; to the Forester's. Farewell, Egon."
"Farewell."
They parted without a pressure of the hand, without a further word, and
when the door closed behind him, Hartmut knew that he had lost the
friend who had idolized him. Judged here, too--and cast out! He had to
atone terribly for the old guilt.