"But it is not my fault," Willibald continued, in spite of the command.

"I have struggled manfully and tried truly to keep my promise during the whole time I was at Burgsdorf. I believed it would be possible; but then I came here and saw you again in 'Arivana' on that evening, and knew that the struggle had been in vain. I had not forgotten you, Fraulein Marietta--not for an hour--as often as I had tried to make myself believe it, and I shall not forget you all my life long. I shall confess this to Toni openly, and shall also tell my mother when I return to her."

The confession was made. The young lord, who could not manage the first proposal at Furstenstein alone, but had to be helped by his mother, now spoke as warmly and heartily--as openly and as truly--as a man must speak in such an hour. He had learned it suddenly, and with the helplessness which he shook off with such decision, there seemed to fall off, too, all his awkwardness and ridiculous manner.

He quickly approached Marietta, who had fled to the window, and his firm voice grew unsteady as he continued: "And now one question. You looked so pale when you opened the door for me, and your eyes spoke of tears. The affair may have been painful and mortifying to you; I can understand that, but did you also fear a little for my welfare?"

No answer, but low sobs.

"Did you fear for me? Only a little 'yes,' Marietta. You have no idea how happy you would make me."

He bent low over the young girl, who now slowly raised the small, bowed head. In her dark eyes there glowed a spark as of secret happiness. The answer was almost inaudible.

"I? Ach, I have almost _died_ of fear these last two days."

Willibald gave a joyful exclamation and drew her to his breast; but only for a moment, then she struggled from his embrace.

"No--not now. Go now, please."

He released her at once and stepped back.

"You are right, Marietta; not yet. But, after I have freed myself, I shall come again and ask for another 'yes.' Farewell."

He hastened away before Marietta had scarce recovered control of herself. She was aroused by the voice of Fraulein Berger, who, unnoticed by the two, had stood upon the threshold of the adjoining room for several moments, and who now approached in a state of horror.

"Child, for mercy's sake, what does it mean? Do you not consider----"

The young girl did not let her finish, but threw both arms around her neck and wept pa.s.sionately.

"Ah, now I know why I was so enraged at the time he suffered his mother to insult me. It hurt me so inexpressibly to believe him a coward; I have loved him from the first."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

In the house of the Prussian Amba.s.sador everything was in a state of preparation for the winter festivities. When Wallmoden had entered his present position, in the spring, society was already scattered in all directions for the summer, and immediately afterward occurred the sad event which had put an end to all festivities for them. These causes, however, were done with now.

The many halls and apartments of the Amba.s.sador's palace had been furnished with such splendor as Herbert's circ.u.mstances, made brilliant by his marriage, permitted; and it was his intention to have as magnificent a home as was possible to obtain. Their first grand reception was to take place next week, and in the meantime numerous calls were being made and returned.

The Amba.s.sador was also much occupied with his official duties, and, besides, there was one thing which ruined his peace of mind completely--the success of Arivana. If he had had doubts before about opposing Rojanow's publicity, it had now become quite impossible. The "adventurer" was raised upon the shield and his poetical spirit was being praised everywhere. The Court and society generally could not be forced now to drop him without subjecting themselves to mortification, and it was questionable, besides, if they would drop him at all, since only hints and vague remarks could be given. That grand success had made Hartmut almost unapproachable.

To add to the embarra.s.sment of the Amba.s.sador's position, Falkenried's arrival was expected in the near future, from whom the truth could not be kept, for fear he should hear it from outsiders.

The Colonel, of whose present trip nothing was known when Wallmoden had seen him in Berlin a short time ago, would be here in a few days and would make his headquarters at the Amba.s.sador's palace, since he was no stranger to Adelaide. She and her brother had, in a measure, grown up under his eyes.

When, ten years ago, the then Major Falkenried had been removed to the distant province, he had been stationed at a post in the small town lying in the immediate vicinity of the great Stahlberg works and dependent almost entirely upon them. The new Major was considered an excellent soldier, but a p.r.o.nounced man-hater, who enjoyed his duties only, occupying all his spare time with military studies, and who hated everything that came under the head of society.

As he was alone, he was excused from keeping an open house, and he exhibited himself only at houses where his position imperatively demanded it. Such consideration had to be shown the great manufacturer, who was the leader of the whole vicinity, and who received and entertained as guests the first and highest personages.

Stahlberg had been the only one whom the military man approached.

Although the grave and gloomy reticence of the Major excluded real friendship, yet the two men felt the highest esteem for each other, and the Stahlberg home was the only place where Falkenried appeared occasionally of his own free will.

He had had intercourse there for years and seen the two children grow up. Therefore Wallmoden was the more offended that Falkenried did not attend his wedding, but excused himself through pressure of official duties.

Adelaide knew little or nothing about the life of the Colonel. She considered him childless and heard only from her husband that he had been married early in life, but had been separated from his wife and was now a widower.

It was about a week after the return of the Wallmodens that Falkenried's arrival was announced to the young wife as she sat one day at her writing table. She threw aside her pen, arose quickly and hastened to her friend.

"You are heartily welcome, Colonel Falkenried. We received your telegram, and Herbert intended to meet you at the depot, but just at this hour he has an audience with the Duke, and is still at the palace, so we could only send the carriage."

Her greeting had all the cordiality which an old friend of her father's could wish, but Falkenried's response was not of a like kind. Coldly and seriously he accepted the offered hand and the invitation to be seated, as he thanked her for her welcome.

The Colonel had indeed changed, so much as scarcely to be recognized.

Were it not for the tall, muscular form and strong, firm carriage, one could have taken him for an old man. His hair--the hair of a man barely fifty years old--was white as snow, the brow furrowed deeply, and sharp lines were buried in the face, making it look ten years older. The features, once so expressive, appeared fixed and immovable now; the entire appearance and bearing bespoke stern, impenetrable reticence.

Regine's words, "The man is turned to stone," were only too true. One involuntarily gained the impression that he had become a total stranger to the world, and that all mankind had died off for aught that moved him--nothing was left except the duties of his vocation.

"Perhaps I have disturbed you, Ada," he said, using her old home name as he glanced at the writing table where lay a half-finished letter.

"There is plenty of time for that," replied the young wife, lightly. "I was only writing to Eugene."

"Ah? I am the bearer of love from your brother. I saw him the day before yesterday."

"I knew that he intended going to Berlin and to see you. He has not seen you for nearly two years now, and I, too, saw but little of you during our journey through Berlin. We hoped you would come to Burgsdorf, where we stayed for a few days, and I believe that Regine felt very hurt that you did not accept her invitation for this time, either."

The Colonel looked to the floor; he knew why he avoided Burgsdorf and its reminiscences. He had hardly been there twice since his return to the Capital.

"Regine knows how economical I have to be with my time," he replied, evasively. "But, to return to your brother, Ada; I should like to speak to you, and therefore I am glad to find you alone. What is the difficulty between Eugene and his brother-in-law? Has something happened to alienate them?"

A certain embarra.s.sment was visible in Adelaide's face at the question, but she answered lightly:

"Nothing especial; the two are not very congenial."

"Not very congenial? Wallmoden is nearly forty years his senior, and his guardian besides. Your brother will not be of age for several years. In such case the younger one must submit unconditionally."

"Certainly; but Eugene, although as good as gold, is only too often rash and pa.s.sionate as he has always been."

"Alas, so he is. He will have to change considerably if he wishes to fill, half as well as his father did, the important and responsible position which awaits him. But something else seems to be the trouble here. I made a casual remark about your marriage, Ada--which event, to tell the truth, surprised me, although I am on friendly terms with your husband--and said that I had not thought you had so much ambition; but at this Eugene burst out and defended you in the most pa.s.sionate manner, and spoke of a sacrifice which his sister had made for him. In short, he allowed himself to be carried away into words and hints which surprised me in the highest degree."

"You should not have paid any attention to it," said Adelaide, with visible emotion. "A young, hot head takes everything tragically. What did he tell you?"

"In fact, nothing definite. He seems to have given you his word to keep silent and not speak without your permission; but he seems to almost hate his brother-in-law. What does all this mean?"

The young wife was silent; the conversation seemed painful to her in the highest degree.

Falkenried looked at her searchingly as he continued: "You know it is not my way to inquire into the secrets of others. I take but little interest in the doings of people around me, but my friend's honor comes into consideration here; those remarks contain a crimination. Of course, I could not allow that, but when I remonstrated with your brother and threatened to speak to Wallmoden about it, he said: 'My Herr brother-in-law will explain the affair diplomatically to you. He has proved a very diplomat in it all. Ask Ada if you wish to learn the truth.' I ask you first, therefore; but if you cannot and will not answer, then I must speak to your husband, from whom I cannot keep such remarks."

He spoke in a cold and measured tone, without any excitement. The affair, apparently, caused him no interest whatever. He considered it necessary to take it up solely because a point of honor came in question.