"With the taming of your wild animals," finished the Princess maliciously.

"No, with--with my travelling memoirs, which I intend to publish; and Hartmut composes melancholy songs. He has just now the material for a ballad under his pen, to which Your Highness drew his attention."

"Why, Herr Rojanow, have you really utilized the theme?" asked the lady, whose face now suddenly beamed with sunshine, as she turned to the young poet.

"Certainly, Your Highness. I am very grateful to you for the suggestion," said Hartmut, who had not the slightest idea what the subject was, but felt that he had to go into action now.

"I am glad of that. I love poetry and seek it at every opportunity."

"And with what understanding and appreciation!" cried Egon, enthusiastically. But he quickly embraced the opportunity of slipping away, leaving his friend behind as the victim. He hastened to the presence of the d.u.c.h.ess, which meant the presence of Frau von Wallmoden, where he seemed to feel decidedly better than with his most gracious aunt.

The chase was resumed after luncheon was over. It was now a hunt for large game, which was commenced with renewed zeal.

But the hitherto sunny weather changed in the afternoon. The sky grew cloudy and dark, but it remained warm, almost stifling, and a heavy bank of cloud arose in the west. It looked as if one of those late thunderstorms was preparing, which pa.s.sed at times over the Wald at this season.

The d.u.c.h.ess, with a portion of her attendants, had taken her stand upon a hill which seemed to afford the best view, but soon the chase took another quite unexpected direction, and the onlookers made ready to follow.

Frau von Wallmoden met here with a slight accident. The girth of her saddle suddenly broke and she sprang lightly from the stirrup, thus saving herself from a fall. It was not possible to continue her ride, for although the accompanying groom could have given her a horse, there was no lady's saddle at hand; consequently she had to give up further partic.i.p.ation, and decided to walk back to Bucheneck, to where one of the grooms would lead her horse.

Adelaide had requested the servant to precede her, and she lingered on the hill which had become quiet and lonely. It almost seemed that the accident had been welcome to her, since it relieved her from attending the chase to the end.

It is always a relief when one can drop a mask which has deceived the world and can breathe in solitude, if it only brings conviction of the heavy load one had to bear under that mask.

Where had the cold, proud calm vanished with which the young wife had entered her new home upon the arm of her husband? Now, when she knew herself alone and un.o.bserved, it could be plainly seen that she had changed much.

That strong will-line which had made her resemble her father so much had become more p.r.o.nounced, but besides that there was another line--a painful one--as of a person who has to struggle with secret torture and anxiety. The blue eyes had lost the cold, dispa.s.sionate expression. A deep shadow rested within them which also told of struggle and pain, and the blonde head drooped as if under an invisible but heavy load.

And yet Adelaide drew a breath of relief at the thought that this would be the last day she should spend at Furstenstein. By to-morrow she would be far from here. Perhaps there would be rest in the far removal of the dark power against which she had struggled now for weeks so painfully, and yet so vainly.

Perhaps she would get better if she did not see those eyes day after day, nor hear that voice.

When she should have fled from the enchanted circle the charm would have to break, and now at last she could flee--oh, the happiness of it!

The noise of the chase sounded in ever-increasing distance, and was finally lost, but steps now sounded in the forest which encircled the hill closely, and warned the young Baroness that she was no longer alone. She started to leave, but at the moment she turned the one approaching emerged from under the trees.

Hartmut Rojanow stood before her.

The meeting was so sudden and unexpected that Adelaide's composure was not proof against it. She retreated to the trunk of the tree, under the boughs of which she had been standing, as if seeking there a protection from this man, upon whom she gazed with fixed, fearful eyes--with the gaze of a wounded animal which sees the huntsman approach.

Rojanow did not seem to notice it. He saluted her and asked hastily: "You are alone, Your Excellency? The accident did not have any serious consequences?"

"What accident?"

"It was said you had a fall from your horse."

"What exaggeration! The girth broke, but I knew it in time to spring from the stirrup, while the horse stood perfectly still--that was the accident."

"G.o.d be praised! I heard something of a fall--an injury--and as you did not reappear at the chase I feared----"

He paused, for Adelaide's glance showed him plainly that she did not believe this pretense; probably he knew the whole occurrence and had learned why and where Frau von Wallmoden had been left behind. She now regained her composure.

"I thank you, Herr Rojanow, but your being at all concerned was not necessary," she said coldly. "You could have told yourself that had there been a real accident the d.u.c.h.ess and the other ladies would not have left me helpless in the forest. I am on my way to Bucheneck."

She attempted to pa.s.s him. He bowed and stepped aside as if to let her pa.s.s, but said in a low voice:

"Gracious lady, I have yet to ask your pardon."

"My pardon! For what?"

"For a request which I uttered thoughtlessly and for which I have had to suffer seriously. I only asked for a flower. Is that, then, so severe a transgression that one should be angry over it for weeks?"

Adelaide had paused almost without knowing it.

Again she was under the charm of these eyes--this voice, which held her fast as with magnetism.

"You are mistaken, Herr Rojanow. I am not angry with you."

"Not? And yet it is this icy tone I have always to hear since I dared approach you in that hour. You have learned, too, to know my work, for which I begged a recognition. You were present when I read it at Furstenstein. My Arivana was praised overwhelmingly on all sides, but from your mouth alone I heard no word--not one. Will you refuse it even now?"

"I thought we were hunting to-day," said Adelaide with an attempt to pa.s.s the subject by, "where it is surely not admissible to speak of poetical works."

"We have both left the chase; it is running now toward the Rodeck forest. There is only forest solitude here. Look at this autumn-tinted foliage which warns so mournfully of fleeting existence--the silent water down there, those thunder clouds in the distance. I believe there is a more endless amount of poetry in all this than in the halls of Furstenstein."

He pointed to the landscape which spread out before them, but no longer in the bright sunlight that had favored the chase at the beginning. Now it lay in the dim light of an overcast sky, which made even the gay foliage appear withered and dull.

They could see far out into the mountains, which, retreating on both sides, left the distance free. The endless ocean of forest crowns which only a few weeks ago waved green and airily in the breeze, now bore the color of the fall. They shone from the darkest brown to brilliant golden yellow in every shade all around, and shining red gleamed from the bushes and shrubs.

The dying forest adorned itself once more with deceptive splendor, but it was only the coloring of the pa.s.sing away and dying. All life and bloom were at an end.

Deep in the ravine lay a little forest lake, which, dark and motionless, seemed to dream in the wreath of reeds and rushes which surrounded it. It resembled strangely another pond that, far away in North Germany, lay in the midst of a pine forest--the Burgsdorf pond--which, like this one, ended in a meadow where rich green beckoned, nourished by the swamp and bog, hiding itself deceitfully beneath it, and drawing the ignorant one into its depth without hope of rescue.

Even now in daylight it seemed to breathe fog and twilight, and when night should descend the will-o'-the-wisp probably commenced here also its ghostly play.

At the horizon, where in clear weather the summits of the mountains were visible, towered now a dark bank of clouds. As yet in the distance, its stifling breath rested already over the Wald, and at times a dull light flashed from it.

Adelaide had not answered Hartmut's question. She gazed out over the country to avoid looking into the face of the man who stood before her, but she felt the dark, pa.s.sionate look which rested upon her face, as she had always felt it in the last weeks, as soon as Rojanow was in her presence.

"You are going away to-morrow, gracious lady," he commenced again. "Who knows when you will return and when I shall see you again? May not I beg for your opinion? May I not ask if my work has found grace in the eyes of--Ada?"

Her name again upon his lips; again that soft, veiled, yet pa.s.sionate, tone which she feared, and yet to which she listened as to enchanting music!

Adelaide felt that here she was a prisoner; there was no chance for flight. She had to look the danger full in the face.

CHAPTER XXIX.