"My mother!" Rojanow started up suddenly and violently. "Do not speak of her in this hour--do not speak to me of my mother."

It was an outburst of mingled bitterness, of accusation and despair.

The mother was being judged by her son in this exclamation. He rejected her memory as a desecration of this hour.

Adelaide did not understand him; she saw only that she had touched a topic which did not admit of explanation, and she also saw that the man who stood before her now with this dark look--with this tone of despair--was a different being from that one who had approached her a quarter of an hour ago. It was a dark, mysterious depth into which she gazed, but it no longer caused her fear.

"Let us end this conversation," she said earnestly. "You will not seek a second one--I trust you. But one more word before we part. You are a poet. I felt it in spite of all when I heard your work, and poets are teachers of mankind. They can lead to happiness or destruction. The wild flames of your Arivana seem to burst forth from the depths of a life which you yourself seem to hate. Look there!" She pointed into the distance, which was now lighted up again in a flaming glow. "Those are also signs of flame, but they come from on high, and they point to another road---- Farewell!"

She had disappeared long ago, but Hartmut still stood as if rooted to the ground. He had not replied with one word--had made no motion; he only looked with hot, fixed eyes to where now one flash of lightning after another tore the clouds asunder, shrouding the whole country with a fiery cloak, and then he looked at the little forest lake which resembled so closely that one at Burgsdorf, with its waving reed and the deceiving, foggy meadow, which here also pressed so close to the water.

The boy had once dreamed among such whispering rushes of soaring up like the falcon of which his race bore the name, in boundless freedom--ever higher toward the sun--and at the same place the decision over his fate had been made on that dark autumn night, when the will-o'-the-wisp led its ghostly dance.

But the deserter had not risen to the sun--the earth had held him fast; the rich, green meadow had drawn him down deeper and deeper. He had felt at times that the intoxicating cup of freedom and life which the hand of his mother gave him was poisoned, but no precious memory shielded him; he did not dare to think of his father.

Over there in the distance the forms of cloud struggled and wrestled wilder and wilder; closer and closer together they drew, and in the midst of this struggle and this darkness the flames again burst victoriously--the powerful flames from on high.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

The winter social life had commenced at the Residenz, where the professional element played a conspicuous role. The Duke, who loved and encouraged art, took great pride in gathering renowned members of it into his presence, seeking to retain them in his capitol, and, of course, society followed largely in the same direction.

The young poet who was being so highly favored by the Court, and whose first large work was to appear on the court stage, was from the first an interesting person to everybody, and the tales which were told about him served to increase this interest.

It was very unusual for a Roumanian to compose his work in the German language, even when it was whispered that he had received his education in Germany. Besides that, he was the bosom friend, and the guest here in town also, of Prince Adelsberg, and all sorts of touching and wonderful stories were narrated about this friendship.

Above all, Hartmut's personality gave him a favored position wherever he went. The young, handsome, highly-gifted stranger, whom a half-romantic, half-mysterious air surrounded, had only to make his appearance even here to draw all eyes upon him.

The rehearsal of Arivana had commenced immediately after the return of the ducal party to the Residenz, under the personal supervision of the poet; while Prince Adelsberg, who in his enthusiasm for the work of his friend, had changed into a kind of manager, made life hard to the performers by all sorts of requests in regard to the filling of characters and the setting of the play.

He knew how to get his way, and the scenery and setting were brilliant; the roles were all filled by the first talent of the Court Theatre, and even the opera singers were called into service, since one of the roles required a rather extensive part of song. One could not expect this from an actress, therefore a young singer--Marietta Volkmar--was entrusted with it.

The performance of the play, which was to have taken place at a later date, was being hastened as much as possible, as guests were expected at Court, and the new drama, which toyed so poetically and airily with the Indian legend as a background, was to be performed before the ill.u.s.trious guests. An unusual success was antic.i.p.ated.

This was the state of affairs at the return of Herbert von Wallmoden, who was naturally painfully surprised. Although he had learned from a casual question to his wife that Rojanow still kept up his intercourse at Furstenstein, and although he had not counted upon a sudden disappearance on Rojanow's part which would necessarily have caused comment, still he had been of the firm opinion that in spite of his haughty decision to remain, Hartmut would consider it again and make his retreat as soon as Prince Adelsberg left Rodeck. Surely he would not dare to appear at the Prince's side at the Residenz, where his stay might be made impossible through those threatened "explanations."

But the Amba.s.sador had not counted upon the unyielding defiance of the man who ventured and dared a high game here. Now, after a few weeks, he found him in a favored position in every respect and in closest intercourse with the court society.

If now, just before the performance of the drama which the Duke favored so decidedly, and of which the whole town was already talking, one should publish the disclosures of the former life of the poet, it would touch all circles unpleasantly and appear malicious.

The experienced diplomat did not deceive himself about the fact that the deep displeasure which would doubtless take possession of the Duke would then fall back upon himself, because he had not spoken before at the first appearance of Rojanow. Nothing was left for him to do but to keep silence and await developments.

Wallmoden was far from having an idea that a heavy danger had threatened himself from that quarter. He supposed that his wife knew Hartmut only as a companion of Prince Adelsberg. She had never mentioned the name since, after her arrival in Berlin, she answered a seemingly careless question just as carelessly, and he had also kept silence. She must not and should not learn anything of those old connections which he had kept from her from the beginning.

But he dared not be silent toward his nephew, Willibald, if he did not wish to live to see another scene of recognition like that upon the Hochberg.

The young lord had accompanied his relatives to South Germany; was to remain but a few days at the Residenz, and go from there to Furstenstein to his betrothed, for the Chief Forester had specially requested that the visit, which was so suddenly broken off in September, should be finished now.

"You were here barely a week," he wrote to his sister-in-law, "and now I beg for my son-in-law a little longer. Everything has been put in order now at your much-loved Burgsdorf, and there is not much to do in November. Therefore at least send us w.i.l.l.y if you cannot get off. A refusal will not be accepted. Toni expects her betrothed."

Frau von Eschenhagen saw that he was right and was willing to send w.i.l.l.y--for she, of course, decided the matter. He had made no new attempt to rebel against the maternal ruling, and seemed, anyway, to have come to his senses completely again. He was, perhaps, more quiet than before, and threw himself with quite unusual zeal into his agricultural work after his return, but otherwise bore himself especially well.

He remained obstinate only upon one point: he would not speak with his mother about that "silliness" which had caused the sudden departure, and avoided every explanation concerning it. Apparently he was ashamed of that quickly-flaming affection, which probably had never been serious, and did not wish to be reminded of it.

He wrote frequently to his fiancee, and received just as punctual replies. The correspondence, however, was more of a practical than a tender nature, and mostly concerned plans for their future lives and farm arrangements; but one saw from this that the young lord considered his marriage, for which the day had been set, as quite decided, and Frau Regine, who deemed it her indisputable right to read all of the letters of the engaged couple, declared herself satisfied with them.

So Willibald received a gracious permission to visit his betrothed, which was now so much less hazardous since the dangerous little person--Marietta Volkmar--was at present at the Residenz, where her position kept her. But to be quite sure, Frau von Eschenhagen put her son under the protection of her brother, who, with his wife, had paid a brief visit to Burgsdorf upon his return from the Stahlberg works.

If Willibald, during the two or three days of his visit at the Residenz, remained at Wallmoden's house and went with them exclusively, no danger was to be feared.

The Amba.s.sador saw soon after his arrival that he would be forced to enlighten his nephew regarding Hartmut Rojanow, for the name was mentioned on all sides already the first day. w.i.l.l.y, who at that former time had been the confidant of the secret rendezvous of Hartmut and his mother, and knew her name, started upon hearing it, coupled with a remark that a young Roumanian was the gifted poet, which made him still more suspicious.

He glanced in perplexity at his uncle, who managed to signal to him just in time not to question any further, and who then embraced the first opportunity to tell him the truth.

He did this, of course, in the most inconsiderate manner, and presented Hartmut as an adventurer of the worst kind, whom he would in a very short time force to give up the role which he was playing here, without being in the least ent.i.tled to it.

Poor Willibald's head swam at the news. His bosom friend--to whom he had always been attached with the fondest affection, and to whom he still clung in spite of the harsh sentence which was being p.r.o.nounced upon him--was here in his immediate vicinity, and he was not to go to see him--was not even to recognize him if chance should bring about a meeting. Wallmoden especially impressed the latter upon his nephew, who, quite stunned, promised obedience and silence, as well toward Adelaide as to his fiancee and the Chief Forester; but he could not understand the thing by a long shot yet. He needed time for that as for everything.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

The day upon which Arivana was to be presented had arrived. It was the first work of a young author and quite unknown poet, but the circ.u.mstances made it a professional event, which was viewed by everybody with intensest interest.

From the earliest hour the Court Theatre was filled to its utmost capacity, and now the ducal couple also appeared with their guests to occupy the large court box. Although not formally announced, the performance had the character of a benefit, to which the brilliantly lighted house and the rich costumes and uniforms bore witness.

Prince Adelsberg, who appeared in the court box, was as excited as if he had written the drama himself. Besides, he found himself in as rare as joyful accord with his most gracious aunt, who had called him to her, and was speaking about the work of the poet.

"Our young friend seems to have caprices like all poets," she remarked.

"What a notion to change the name of the heroine at the last moment!"

"It did not happen at exactly the last moment," replied Egon. "The change was made at Rodeck. Hartmut suddenly took a notion that the name 'Ada' was too cold and pure for his fiery heroine, and so her name was changed forthwith."

"But the name Ada stands on the programme," said the Princess.

"Yes, but it has been turned over to an entirely different character of the drama, who appears only in one scene."

"So Rojanow has made changes since his reading at Furstenstein?"

"Only a few; the piece itself has remained quite the same, except the changing of names and that short appearance of Ada; but I a.s.sure Your Highness this scene which Hartmut has added to the play is the most beautiful thing he has ever written."

"Yes, of course, you find everything beautiful which comes from the pen of your friend," said the Princess, but the indulgent smile with which she dismissed the Prince showed that she was of the same opinion.