CHAPTER XIV

The music rose and swelled and died away. Beneath the brilliant light there was clashing of beakers and joyous drinking of deep toasts in the intervals between the songs. At regular intervals Greif demanded silence and proposed the health of each of the other Korps, one by one, in the order of their precedence for the year. A couple of hours pa.s.sed in this way, and then the signal was given for the singing of the 'Landesvater,'

and the instruments struck up the stirring strain. Then at the head of each table rose the two eldest fellows, each with a pointed sword in his hand. In time with the music, they stood and struck their rapiers one against the other, exchanging caps at the last bars, and running the sharp blade through the embroidered velvet, so that the small head covering ran down upon the hilt. Next, while the others stood upon the floor, the two leaders mounted upon the bench behind each row, on opposite sides of the table, clashing their swords in time, high above the heads of the carousers; and as the verse ended, each s.n.a.t.c.hed the cap from the crown of the man who sat below him and ran it down his blade as he had previously done with his partner's. Reaching in due time the end of the board, the two stood crossing and recrossing their weapons, until all the others in the great hall had done the same and not one head remained covered. With this the first half of the 'Landesvater' was ended, and a solemn toast was drunk to the health of the sovereign. The second part was gone through in a similar manner, the leaders returning along the rows with the same ceremony and restoring to each man his own head covering at the conclusion of each verse. It is a strange old custom of which it is not easy to discover the origin, though the meaning is clear enough. Every man of the a.s.sembly pledges his head to live and die for his sovereign prince or king, and in a country where loyalty is a fact, and patriotism a pa.s.sion, the expression of both by an ancient ceremony is solemnly imposing. So great is the respect felt for the 'Landesvater' and the sincerity of those who take part in it, that even in such a mult.i.tude of recklessly gay youths, the strictest sobriety is required of all until it is over, and is exacted under penalties of considerable severity. Once over, the mirth and enjoyment proceed in an increasing ratio, though it is to the credit of the German student that his gaiety on these public occasions never degenerates into unbridled licence, and that while he sings, laughs and jests over his fiftieth gla.s.s, he maintains the outward forms of habitual courtesy towards his fellows, together with a sort of manly dignity not unworthy of his stern Gothic forefathers. The liquor is bland and almost harmless, and the heads are strong, and backed by iron const.i.tutions. The object is not intoxication but jollity, and there is a deliberation in the manner of attaining the end by spending eight or nine hours over it, which effectually prevents such scenes as occur at festive meetings where the time is limited and men make themselves beastly drunk in the attempt to be merry before midnight. There is no closing hour for the German students' carousals. The official part of the affair is declared to be at an end at twelve or one o'clock, but all may stay as long as they please, and many are still in their places when the day dawns.

Greif and Rex sat side by side at the head of the long table. It was long past midnight, but neither felt the need of sleep. Greif dreaded to go home, for he felt that he was taking his last leave of a life he loved. Rex, who was unnaturally calm, even for a man of his solid nerve, sat motionless beside his friend, emptying his huge beaker twice in every hour with unfailing regularity. He talked quietly but constantly, interspersing queer bits of cynicism and odds and ends of uncommon wisdom in his placid conversation. Greif knew by his manner that he was in reality sad and preoccupied, but was grateful for his pleasant talk, which blunted the keen edge of this rupture with first youth's a.s.sociations. From time to time Greif wondered rather vaguely whether his relations with Rex would continue in after life, and, if so, whether they would not be affected for the worse by the revelation of Rex's ident.i.ty. The excitement of the evening had perhaps momentarily expanded his natural generosity too far, and while he was quite aware that he could not now draw back from the friendship with honour, he was by no means sure that he might not afterwards regret his readiness to receive so kindly, as a cousin, him whom he had so much liked before he had been aware of the relationship. As he sat there, conversing with Rex, he attached an amount of importance to the situation which would have amazed him, had he known that of which both were ignorant, namely, that Rex was his half-brother as certainly as Rieseneck was half-brother to old Greifenstein.

The hours wore on till scarcely fifty students remained in the hall, and they of the st.u.r.dy kind who make very little noise over their amus.e.m.e.nts.

'Shall we go home, or stay till morning?' asked Greif at last, hesitating whether to light a fresh cigar or not.

'We might adjourn to your room,' suggested Rex. 'We can finish the night there.'

There was a stir near the door, and Greif looked round, idly at first, to see what was the matter, then with an expression of dismay. A man had entered the hall, a man with a ghastly face, who seemed to be making inquiries of the knot of Korps servants who waited for their tardy masters. Greif's eyes fixed themselves in the antic.i.p.ation of evil, when he saw that the fellow wore the Greifenstein livery and was one of his father's grooms. What was most strange was that he wore boots and spurs, as if he had ridden hard, though he could only have reached Schwarzburg by the railway.

'Karl!' cried Greif in a tone that made the man start. 'What are you doing here?'

Karl crossed the hall, his face growing paler than ever, and his teeth chattering. He had not had time to recover from the thought of what he had left behind him. His hands trembled violently as they grasped the military cap he held.

'Herr Baron--' he stammered, staring at Greif with wide and frightened eyes. 'Herr Baron--' he began again, trying to frame the words.

'Speak, Karl!' exclaimed Greif making a desperate effort to seem calm, though he instinctively dreaded the words which must fall from the man's lips.

The groom turned appealingly to Rex, who sat motionless in his place, scrutinising the messenger with his stony glance.

'My G.o.d!' cried he. 'I cannot tell him! Sir, are you a friend of the Herr Baron?'

Rex nodded, and laying one hand upon Greif's shoulder as though to make him keep his seat, rose and made a sign to the groom to follow him.

But Greif would not submit to be treated like a child, and sprang up, seizing the man's arm and drawing him nearer.

'I will hear it myself,' he said firmly. 'Is it my father?' he asked in uncertain tones. Karl nodded gravely.

'I caught the train as I jumped from the saddle,' he answered.

'My mother sent you?' asked Greif anxiously.

The groom shook his head, and his tremor increased, while he stared wildly about as though in search of some escape from his awful mission.

'Speak, man!' cried Greif, mad with anxiety. 'My father is ill--and you are here though my mother did not send you--speak, I say.'

'They are dead,' answered Karl in a low voice.

Greif sank into his seat and covered his face. Suddenly Rex's impenetrable eyes flashed, and he, last of the three, turned white to the lips.

'Is there another gentleman at Greifenstein?' he asked quickly.

'He is also with them, sir.'

'Dead?'

'He shot himself.'

Rex closed his eyes and held the table with his two hands, for he knew who the stranger had been. Seeing that Greif did not move, and supposing that Rex was a mere acquaintance, the man took courage to tell the story, speaking in a low voice to Rex.

'The gentleman arrived before dinner,' he said. 'Their merciful lordships dined together, but the butler said they left the table before it was time. Then they heard firing in the house. We broke the doors and found the Lady Baroness dead, in the room beyond the Herr Baron's study, and in the study the Herr Baron dead with a pistol in his hand, and the other gentleman dead with another pistol in his hand. I saw them. They had shot themselves as they sat in their chairs before the fire, but the fire was nearly gone out, though the lamp was burning. And then we saddled and rode, we four, one for the police, one for the doctor, one for Sigmundskron, and I for the railway, and here I am. You are a good friend of the young Herr, sir?'

'Yes, that I am,' answered Rex, starting as though from sleep.

'Then it would be best, sir, that you should tell me whither I should go, for the young Herr will be worse if he sees me.'

'Ask your way to the Red Eagle Inn,' said Rex, 'and stay there till we send for you.'

He gave the man a handful of loose coin, thoughtful of all contingencies, as he ever was.

'You need not talk about this horrible catastrophe,' he said, as he dismissed the frightened groom.

The latter disappeared as fast as he could, glad to get away from the sight of Greif's misery, and glad to have found some one to help him in telling his fearful tale. When he was gone Rex laid his hand upon Greif's shoulder, and spoke in a tone of quiet authority.

'Come with me,' he said. Greif rose to his feet like a man in a dream, and allowed Rex to put on his topcoat for him, and to lead him out of the almost deserted hall, through the group of servants who loitered at the door and made way respectfully for the pair to pa.s.s.

'Whither?' asked Greif as they stood in the cold street.

'To your room,' answered Rex, quietly pa.s.sing his arm through his friend's and gently urging him to move forward.

Greif did not remember afterwards how he had found his way from the hall to his lodging. Neither he nor Rex spoke during the quarter of an hour they employed in reaching the street door, but Rex's arm was aching with the effort of sustaining and directing his companion. He lit a taper and prepared to help him up the stairs. But the sight of the familiar entrance recalled Greif to himself and dissipated the first stupor of his grief. He ascended the steps firmly, though he went like a man overcome with fatigue, to whom every movement is difficult. Still silent, Rex lit the lamp in the small room, and began to help Greif to take off his mantle. But Greif pushed him aside gently and sat down as he was upon the well-worn chair. Rex went and sat himself down in a corner at some distance and waited. His instinct told him that his friend must have time to recover from the first shock before anything could be done. He shaded his eyes from the light with one hand, and thought of his own sorrow.

The silence was intense. It was as though the spirits of the dead, of the mother of both and of the father of each, were present in the commonplace chamber where sat their two sons, not knowing each other for brothers, though overwhelmed by the same calamity. It seemed as if the murdered woman and her dead murderers were standing silently in the midst of the small room, watching to see what should happen to those they had left behind.

At last Greif raised his white face and looked towards Rex.

'I must go,' he said simply.

'Yes,' answered Rex. 'We must bury our dead.'

Greif looked at him as though asking for an explanation of the words. He had not heard all the groom's story.

'My father is also with them,' said Rex, answering the unspoken question. Greif grasped the table and stared at his companion stupidly for a moment. Then all at once his pale face grew luminous and his eyes glittered.

'Rieseneck?' he cried, in a suffocated tone. 'Your father has slain mine and yet you are here--' He rose from his seat, half mad with horror, as though he would spring upon his friend. But the latter interrupted him, in a tone which enforced attention.

'Your mother is dead--G.o.d knows how. Your father and my father shot themselves, sitting in their chairs.'

Again Greif's head sank upon his clasped hands, and again the deadly silence descended upon the chamber.

The long December night was over and it was broad dawn when the two men got out of the express train at the station nearest to Greifenstein.