Lieutenant Waldorf re-entered the room, but left the door open. "Come
right in here," he called to the man hesitating outside. "Here is an
orderly from the Seventh Regiment with a report. Well, don't you hear,
orderly? Come in!"
The repetition of the order sounded very impatient. The soldier who
stood upon the threshold hesitated there, and had even made a start
back, as if he wished to return to the darkness outside. He now obeyed,
but kept close to the door, so that his face remained in the dusk.
"Do you come from the outposts at the Capellenberg?" asked Waldorf.
"At your command, Herr Lieutenant."
Egon, who had turned indifferently, started at the sound of that voice.
He made a hasty step forward, then stopped as if suddenly recollecting
himself, but his eyes were fixed with an almost terrified expression
upon the speaker.
As far as could be discerned in the semi-darkness he was a tall young
fellow in the coarse cloak of the common soldier, with helmet upon his
closely-cut hair. He stood there, rigidly immovable, and delivered his
report correctly, but his voice had a peculiarly choked, hollow sound.
"From Captain Salfeld," he reported. "We have seized a suspicious
character, dressed as a peasant, but probably from the French reserve,
who tried to steal into the fortress. What writings he had with
him----"
"Do come nearer," commanded Waldorf, impatiently. "We cannot half
understand you."
The soldier obeyed, drawing near to the officers. The light now fell
full and sharp upon his features, but his face bore an ashy paleness;
the teeth were tightly closed, and the eyes were fastened to the floor.
Egon's hand clutched the hilt of his sabre convulsively, and only by an
effort he suppressed the stormy exclamation which was forced to his
lips, while Stadinger, with wide-open eyes, glared at the man, who now
continued: "The writings which he had with him were not of much
account, but contained hints which he was probably to fill out
verbally. The Captain thinks that if he were strictly examined, more
could be learned, and asks now whether he shall send the prisoner here
or to headquarters."
The report was neither surprising nor unusual. It often happened that
suspicious people were seized. The enemy's reserve tried obstinately to
obtain connection with the fortress; perhaps they kept it up in spite
of all the watchfulness of the besiegers: but Prince Adelsberg seemed
to have to struggle for breath before he could give the answer.
"I beg the Captain to send the prisoner here. We shall be relieved in
two hours and then we march straight to headquarters. I shall attend to
the fellow."
"I hope he can be made to speak when he is seriously pressed," remarked
Waldorf. "He would not be the first whose heart had fallen when his
position became clear to him. Well, we shall see."
The soldier stood there awaiting his dismissal; not a muscle quivered
in his face, but neither did he raise his eyes from the floor. Egon had
now collected himself, and, retaining the assumed ignorance, he asked
in the curt tone of the superior:
"Do you belong to the Seventh Regiment?"
"At your command, Herr Lieutenant."
"Your name?"
"Joseph Tanner."
"Drawn?"
"No, volunteer."
"Since when?"
"Since the 30th of July."
"You have been in the whole campaign?"
"Yes, Herr Lieutenant."
"Very well; now take the message to your Captain."
The soldier saluted, turned upon his heel and left.
Waldorf, who had been a little surprised at the examination, but had
not attached any importance to it, looked after him, shrugging his
shoulders.
"Those out at the Capellenberg have the worst time of it. No rest by
day or night; taxed to the utmost, and with all that they are often
ordered to help the pioneer corps. The poor fellows work there in the
hard, frozen ground until the sweat runs in streams from their brows,
and their hands bleed. Our people surely are better off."
He left the room to appoint an orderly to guard the expected prisoner
and give him the necessary instructions; but Egon tore the window open
and leaned out; it seemed as if he should suffocate.
Then he heard Stadinger's voice behind him in subdued tones, which
nevertheless betrayed the greatest terror.
"Your Highness."
"What is it?" Egon asked without turning.
"Has not Your Highness seen?"
"What?"
"The orderly who was here just now. That was Herr Rojanow as sure as he
lives and breathes."
Egon saw that presence of mind was needed here, so he turned around and
said coldly: "I believe you see ghosts."
"But, Your Highness----"
"Nonsense! there may be a little resemblance. I noticed it myself,
therefore I wanted to know the name of the man. You heard that it was
Joseph Tanner."
"But still it was the real live Herr Rojanow," cried the unshakable
Stadinger, whose sharp eyes could not be deceived. "Only the black
locks were gone and the proud, haughty manner, but it was his voice."
"Get away from me with your fancies!" Egon broke out angrily. "You know
that Herr Rojanow is in Sicily, but here you want to trace him in an
orderly of the Seventh Regiment. It is truly worse than ridiculous."
Stadinger held his peace. It was, indeed, ridiculous and impossible,
and consequently was his young Prince so ungracious. He felt offended
that a common soldier should be confounded with his friend. And really
the haughty Rojanow, who understood how to command from the very
bottom of his heart, and had often chased all the servants at Rodeck
helter-skelter with his orders--and the orderly who had been snubbed by
Lieutenant Waldorf because he did not speak loud enough--were two ever
so different things. If only it had not been for the voice!
"Think, Your Highness," besought the old man, who was now wavering.
"I think that you are an old seer of spirits," said Egon more mildly.
"Go into your quarters and sleep away the fatigue of your journey, or
you will be finding some more resemblances. Good-night!"
Stadinger obeyed and took his leave. Fortunately he had not known
Joseph Tanner, who had only been at Ostwalden a few weeks, and the
encounter had put him in such a fright that the partly concealed
excitement of his master passed quite unnoticed by him. But he clung to
his doubts; the thing was strange--very strange.
When the Prince found himself alone he began to pace the floor in
violent excitement. So! what he had refused his former friend had been
enforced. Joseph Tanner! He plainly remembered the name, which had been
mentioned to him at Ostwalden, and he knew now whose hand had opened
for Hartmut the ranks of the army which had been closed to a Rojanow.
What will not the love of a woman attain!--a woman who desires to see
her love exonerated at any price. She herself had sent him out into
danger and death--to save him for life and--herself. Jealousy rose wild
and hot in Egon's breast at the thought, and with it that awful
suspicion, not yet overcome, raised its head again threateningly. Did
Hartmut really wish to atone only in this war? Was not his presence at
the outposts a danger, for which one was responsible if he kept it a
secret?
Then came back to the Prince's mind the pale, gloomy face of the man
to-night--the friend who had once been so dear to him, and who must
have suffered agonies of torture at this encounter, far exceeding his
imagination. He well knew Hartmut's unbending pride, and this pride was
now bowed low in the dust in that subordinate position day after day.
He had heard it; how out there on the Capellenberg they often worked so
hard that in spite of the icy weather the sweat poured in streams from
their brows, and their hands bled. This was what the spoiled, famed
Rojanow was doing; the man at whose feet the whole town laid its homage
only a year ago, and whom the house of the reigning Prince had
overwhelmed with distinction; and he was doing it of his own free will,
when the success of his poetical work afforded him the richest
revenues. And with it all, he was the son of General Falkenried!
Egon's breast rose under a deep but relieved breath. This view of it
was giving him back slowly his lost faith; all torturing doubts fled
before this. The old sin of the boy Hartmut was now being atoned for,
and the other more awful sin was the mother's alone--not his.