Greif's costume is worth a word of description. He wore a close-fitting yellow jacket, heavily trimmed with black, white and yellow frogs and crossed cords, in the hussar fashion, and finished at the neck in the military manner with a stiff high collar. His legs were encased in tight breeches of white leather, and long polished boots with riding flaps were drawn above the knee. The long straight rapier hung in its gleaming sheath by his side, the colours of the Korps being done in velvet upon the basket-hilt. Over his right shoulder he wore a heavy silk scarf of the three colours, which was tied in a big knot near the sword-hilt.

Upon his bright hair a very small round cap, no bigger than a saucer, and richly embroidered with gold, was held in its place by mysterious means, involving the concealment of a piece of elastic beneath his short curls. Upon the table lay a pair of white leather gauntlets. The whole effect was theatrical, but in the surroundings for which the dress was intended, it could not fail to be both striking and harmonious. It displayed to the best advantage the young man's fine proportions and athletic figure, and where there were to be hundreds similarly arrayed, with only a difference of colour to distinguish their even ranks, the result could not differ greatly from a military parade. Indeed the costume is not more gaudy than many modern uniforms and is certainly as tasteful.

'I am sorry it is the last time,' said Greif sadly, as his friend finished the knot. Then he went to the window and looked once more at the dim outline of the cathedral spire and listened to the water rushing through its cold bed in the dusk far below. He knew that he should look out but a few times more. He did not know that this time was the last.

Rex was looking for his overcoat, and as he moved about the room he sang softly another stanza of the old song--

'Short and sweet this life of ours, Soon its cord must sever!

Death comes quick, nor brooks delay, Ruthless, he tears us away, No man spares he ever.'

'For heaven's sake, do not sing that song any more!' cried Greif. 'I am sad enough, as it is, without your cat's music.'

Rex laughed oddly.

'I am as sad as you,' he said, a moment later, with an abrupt change of manner. 'You do not act as though you were,' observed Greif. 'What are you sad about?'

'World-sorrow.'

'Has the vortex fallen ill?' inquired Greif ironically.

'It is likely to, I fear. Come along! It is time to be off. You must not keep everybody waiting.'

Something in the tone of his voice struck Greif and affected him disagreeably. He held up the light to Rex's face, and saw that he was pale, and that his strange eyes looked weary and lifeless.

'What is the matter, Rex?' he asked earnestly. 'Are you in any trouble?

Can I do anything for you?'

'Nothing, thank you,' answered the other quietly.

Greif set down the lamp upon the table and seemed to hesitate a moment.

Then he turned again and laid his hand upon his friend's arm.

'Rex, do you want money?' asked Greif. 'You know I have plenty.'

In the eyes of a Korps student the want of cash appears to be the only ill to which flesh is heir. Rex smiled rather sadly.

'No, I do not want money. I thank you, all the same.'

'What is it then? In love?'

'In love!' Rex laughed. 'I would tell you that soon enough,' he added carelessly. 'No--it is a more serious matter.'

'If I can be of no use to you--'

'Look here, Greif,' interrupted the other, 'we have grown to be good friends, you and I, during this term. You are going away, and I may never see you again. You may as well know why I fraternised with you so readily. I have had your friendship so far, and if I must lose it, I may as well lose it at once.'

Greif opened his bright eyes and stared at his friend in considerable astonishment. He thought that he knew him well, and he could not imagine what was coming.

'I do not see what could happen to cause that,' he answered.

'Do you remember that evening when you first came to my rooms?'

'Of course.'

'Have I gained any advantage from our acquaintance, excepting your society and that of your Korps? Think well before you answer.'

'Certainly not,' replied Greif. 'I am quite sure that you have not. What a foolish question!'

'It seems so to you, no doubt. But it is far from foolish. You say that you remember that evening well. Then you recollect that I told you I knew nothing of you or your family. I made certain predictions. Well, I made them according to the figure, as you saw by the unexpected arrival of that telegram. But I lied to you about the rest. I knew perfectly well who you were, whence you came, and what your father's half-brother had done.'

Greif had drawn back a little during the first part of this declaration.

At the statement that Rex had deceived him he started and drew himself up, his face showing plainly enough that his wrath was not far off.

'And may I ask your reasons for practising this deception upon me?' he inquired coldly.

'There is but one reason, and that is of a somewhat startling nature,'

returned Rex, leaning back against the table and resting his two hands upon it. 'You allow that I have got no personal advantage out of your friendship. I desired none. I only wanted to know you.'

'Why?'

'Because I am your cousin. My name is Rieseneck. I am the only son of your father's half-brother.'

Greif's eyes flashed, and the hot blood mounted to his face. The information was surprising enough, and his hatred of his uncle was likely to produce trouble.

'How did you dare to impose upon me in such a way?' he cried angrily.

'No one ever speaks to me of daring,' answered Rex, who seemed quite unmoved. 'I dare do most things, because I have nothing to lose but a little money, my good name of Rex, and my life. As for my not calling myself Rieseneck, I have not imposed upon you any more than upon any one else, by doing so. My father calls himself Rex, and I have never been known by any other appellation.'

'But you should have told me--'

'Doubtless, and so I have. It is true that I have chosen my own time, and that I have allowed myself the pleasure of knowing you before disclosing my ident.i.ty. You would have refused to have anything to do with me had you known who I was. After all, you are the only relation I have in the world, and I have asked you for nothing, nor ever shall.

I learned that you were a student here, and I came to Schwarzburg expressly to meet you. I noted your usual seat at the lecture where we met, and I put myself next to you with the intention of making your acquaintance. Now I have told you everything. You are at liberty to know me or not, henceforth. You prefer not to know me. Is it so? Well, I have done you no injury. Good-bye. I wish you good luck.'

Thereupon Rex took up his hat and with a slight inclination of the head went towards the door. His stony eyes did not turn to Greif, who might have seen in them a strangely pained expression, which would have surprised him. Greif hesitated between his sincere friendship for Rex and his horror of any one so closely connected with Rieseneck. It was very hard to choose the right course with so little preparation, and he was thrown off his balance by the sudden disclosure. But his natural generosity, combined with an undefinable attraction he felt towards the man, overcame all other considerations.

'Rex!' he called out, as his friend was already pa.s.sing through the doorway.

Rex stopped and stood still where he was, turning his head so that he could see Greif.

'Stay,' said Greif almost involuntarily. 'We cannot part company in this way.'

'If it must be at all, it were best that it were done quickly,' answered Rex, holding the handle of the door.

'It must not be done,' returned Greif in a decided tone. 'If I am attached to you, it is for what you are, not for what your father was, or is.'

'Think the matter over,' replied the other. 'I will wait, if you please.

I deceived you once. It is fair that I should submit to your decision now.'

He closed the door and went to the window, where he stood still, looking out into the dusk, and turning his back upon Greif. The latter paused an instant, and then came forward and laid one hand upon his friend's shoulder. He acted still under the same impulse of generosity which had first prompted him to keep Rex back.

'Rex--it depends upon you. If you will, we shall be friends as ever.'