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CASTLE HOHENWALD

A ROMANCE

AFTER THE GERMAN

OF

ADOLPH STRECKFUSS

AUTHOR OF "TOO RICH," ETC.

BY MRS. A. L. WISTER

TRANSLATOR OF "THE OLD MAM'SELLE'S SECRET," "THE SECOND WIFE,"
"TOO RICH," "MARGARETHE," "ONLY A GIRL," ETC.

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1906

CASTLE HOHENWALD.

CHAPTER I.

The music ceased. The gentlemen led their partners to their various chaperones, and then crowded out upon the balcony to enjoy the cool spring breeze, giving no attention to the remonstrances of their host, the President, who, when he found how little heed was paid to his warning against imprudence, turned away, declaring to his friend the colonel that there really was nothing to be done with the heedless young people of the present day. "They trifle with their health as if their nerves were of iron and illness impossible," he added, a little out of humour, perhaps, at the neglect of his advice.

"Why then, old friend, do you give a ball in April?" the colonel asked, laughing.

"Could I help being born on the 20th of April? My son and daughter insist upon my keeping up the old custom and celebrating the occasion by a ball. This year it is perfect folly, but then no one could foretell this early warm spring."

"Come, never trouble yourself about those young people; my officers have often braved more sudden changes of temperature in the field without being any the worse."

"But the Assessor? His constitution is none of the strongest."

"And suppose he does take cold; 'twill do him no harm. Come, come, let the young people alone. We were once not a whit more prudent ourselves."

And as he spoke the colonel took his old friend's arm and led him back into the ball-room, while the young officers upon the balcony, who had overheard all that had been said, laughingly grouped themselves about the Assessor, rallying him upon the anxiety with regard to his health manifested by the President.

"The President is right," said a black-bearded cuirassier, inclining his tall figure towards the slightly-built Assessor. "You ought to take care of yourself, my dear Assessor; the sensitive nature of which you so often tell us can never endure what our coarser constitutions brave with impunity. Put an end to the anxiety of your future father-in-law and leave the balcony, I beseech you."

"Herr von Saldern, I beg----"

"Do not make the fair Adèle a widow before she is a wife," chimed in another officer.

"Herr von Arnim, such remarks are very much out of place. It is true that I am peacefully disposed. I make no boast of it, for the gifts of nature----"

"Are variously distributed," Herr von Arnim interrupted the Assessor by completing his sentence. "Do we not frequently hear from your own lips how lavishly mother nature has endowed you, denying you the gift of a robust constitution alone? Spare your precious health,--preserve yourself for the fair Adèle, and for us, your tenderly attached friends; follow the kind President's advice."

The Assessor gazed helplessly at the laughing faces about him; he was the only civilian among these reckless young fellows, and he knew that any serious remonstrance would but provoke anew Arnim's love of chaff. The more prudent part was to laugh too and yield the field. This he did, leaving the balcony and re-entering the ball-room.

To his astonishment he here recognized an acquaintance whom he had not met for a long time, and he hastened across the room to greet him, doubly pleased, since, if Arnim should chance to rally him upon his flight, he could now declare that he had left the balcony to welcome the arrival of Count Styrum.

The Count, a man of about the age of thirty years, was standing in the background of the ball-room, in the doorway of one of the antechambers, thoughtfully contemplating the brilliant scene. The élite of the large provincial town was assembled in the President's rooms to-night, men high in office, with their wives and daughters, the officers of the garrison, and the most aristocratic of the county gentry.

The President enjoyed giving splendid entertainments, and his wealth and position entirely justified him in gratifying his taste in this direction. The hospitalities of his house were quite famous,--his balls had been mentioned with favour by royalty itself,--had not the Prince, upon a visit to the town, accepted an invitation to one of these birthday fêtes, and declared afterwards that he had never attended a more brilliant entertainment or seen a more charming collection of lovely women?

Count Styrum, too, thought that he had rarely seen so many lovely faces assembled in one room, and he gazed with delight at the charming groups laughing and jesting on all sides, wondering while he gazed whom he should pronounce fairest among so many that were fair. His doubt on this head vanished, however, as his eye fell upon a young girl seated upon a low divan near him.

He was quite lost for a moment in admiration of her beauty; the features might, it is true, have been more regular, but the face was indescribably lovely and attractive. The slightly pouting lips could surely smile charmingly, although now there were pensive lines about the mouth which accorded well with the melancholy expression of the large and eloquent brown eyes.

The Count felt an immediate and lively interest in this lovely girl; he had never seen her before, and yet he longed to know why she, the fairest among this gay throng, should look so sad and take apparently so little interest in what was going on around her.

She could hardly number twenty years; could she be preyed upon by any secret grief? What was she thinking of at this moment? Scarcely of the whispered words of the man on the low seat beside her, for she never looked at him, and even turned away from him with a gesture betokening that his conversation was anything but agreeable to her.

"I see I am right! It is really yourself, my dear Count. I thought you were in Rome or Naples, and am most heartily delighted to welcome you here!"

It was thus that the Assessor addressed the Count, who, in contemplation of the beautiful girl on the divan, had not noticed his approach. Now, however, he held out his hand, saying, not unkindly, and with a smile, "You here in the provinces, my dear Hahn? I had not expected to meet the lion of the metropolis here; how does it happen?"

The Assessor, greatly flattered by the question, conceitedly twirled his light moustache and tried to look as much as possible like a flaxen-haired lion of the metropolis; not very successfully, however. His face would look boyish in spite of the moustache, and his head barely reached to his distinguished friend's shoulder, as he replied, "I have been here two years. Just after your departure, when I had passed my third examination, I was appointed to the post of assessor here. It is true that we forego much in the provinces, where however the heart finds truer contentment than amid the whirl of the capital, and therefore I am abundantly satisfied with my present life, which, unfortunately, I must shortly resign, for I am ordered to Altstadt. It is difficult to tear one's self away from loved surroundings and companionship. I am endowed with more than my share of sensibility, I know; not that I would make a boast of it, for it is mine from the hand of nature, and her gifts are variously bestowed."

A smile hovered upon the Count's lips as he replied, "I am glad to find you unchanged, my dear Hahn. Of course you are entirely at home in this society, where I am a total stranger. Not a soul in the room do I know except my uncle Guntram and my cousins Adèle and Heinrich. You will tell me who all these delightful people are."

"With pleasure. I know all your uncle's guests. You know the poetry of my nature. I make no boast; nature's gifts are various, but as a poet nothing interests me more than the study of human feeling and aspiration. You have applied to the right quarter for information with regard to the character and circumstances of all these people."

"I am sure of it. I have always admired your obliging amiability no less than your profound study of character."

"You do me honour. I am obliging by nature, but I make no boast of it. Question me; I am quite at your service."

"To put you instantly to the test, tell me who is the charming girl dressed simply but elegantly in white, there, on the divan to my left, with brown hair and the wreath of snow-drops; the beautiful creature who evidently cares not one whit for all that the fellow with the black beard, leaning over her, is pouring so eagerly into her ear."

The Assessor listened with a smile to this enthusiastic description. "Evidently hit, my dear Count," he said.

"Not at all; but the melancholy on that charming face interests me excessively."

"Poor Frau von Sorr! She may well be melancholy."

"Frau? Impossible! You do not know whom I mean."

"Ah! yes I do. No one could fail to know from your description, and it is not to be wondered at that you take Frau von Sorr for a young girl: it is the same with every one who first sees her. She is just twenty-two and looks much younger."

"And the man talking to her is, I suppose, her husband."

"Not at all. That is Count Repuin, an enormously wealthy Russian, a bosom-friend of Herr von Sorr, and a gambler and spendthrift, who throws away his money by thousands. They say Herr von Sorr knows how to pick it up, and that is the secret of the friendship between them, and also why Sorr allows Repuin to pay such court to his wife."

"And does she encourage it?" Count Styrum asked. "How deceived one may be by a face! I thought hers so innocent and refined in expression."

"And the expression does not belie her," the Assessor rejoined. "Herr von Sorr is a despicable fellow enough, and bears the worst possible reputation; but scandal itself could not touch his charming wife. It is only on her account that he is endured in society in spite of his notorious past and his more than doubtful present. Your uncle would never have invited him here to-night except for the sake of his wife, who is the dearest friend of Fräulein Adèle."

"But the Russian----"

"Is desperately in love with her. He throws away incredible sums upon her worthless husband, while she sternly refuses to accept any of his attentions. My observation is naturally very keen. I make no boast of it, but it is; and I am convinced that at this moment that poor woman is suffering agonies because, without exciting observation, and for the sake of her good-for-nothing husband, she cannot repulse that fellow indignantly."

The Assessor's words increased the interest with which the beautiful Frau von Sorr had inspired the Count, and it was still further heightened by a little scene that passed unobserved by any eyes in the ball-room except his own and the Assessor's.

Frau von Sorr, who had hitherto endured, rather than heard, in perfect silence what her neighbour was saying to her, never even varying by a look the cold indifference of her bearing, suddenly turned upon him eyes flashing with indignation. The delicate colour in her cheek deepened to crimson, the beautiful lips unclosed as if to speak, when suddenly second thoughts seemed to assert their sway, and rising, with a look of inexpressible contempt at Repuin, she turned from him and walked slowly across the ball-room to join a group of young girls gathered about the daughter of the house, Adèle von Guntram.

"What does that mean, do you think?" Count Styrum asked the Assessor.

"It means that the fellow went too far, and she turned her back upon him."

"Poor young creature! she interests me, and I must hear more of her; pray tell me, my dear Hahn, what you know of her husband."

"Certainly. What I know everybody knows, and there can be no indiscretion in relating it; for the world I would not be indiscreet. In fact, I am discretion itself. I make no boast of it, but I am. Of course I may tell you what all the world knows. Well, then, Herr von Sorr is utterly worthless. In the last few years he has squandered his own considerable property and his wife's fortune upon all sorts of follies, and worse, in the capital. What he now lives upon no one knows. All sorts of strange stories are told about that. They may not all be true, of course, but there must be some foundation for them, since Lieutenant von Arnim lately declared that he would not play when Herr von Sorr kept the bank, and that he did not like to have him for next neighbour when he kept it himself, for it was so disagreeable to have to keep a sharp eye upon the pile of money before him."

"Rather strong, I should say."

"It was indeed; but no one expressed any surprise at Arnim's declaration; indeed, I heard it whispered that one night when he sat next Sorr at play a hundred-thaler note had unaccountably disappeared; as I said, the man's character, or want of it, is such that were it not for his lovely wife every respectable house in the town would be closed against him."

"But how did the fellow come to have so lovely a wife?"

"Six years ago, when he married Fräulein Lucie Ahlborn, his reputation was good; he was held to be a wealthy man of rank, and such he was, although even then he had squandered a large part of his property. Herr Ahlborn, his wife's father, was a rich manufacturer; he never thought of saying 'no' when Sorr applied for his daughter's hand,--he was probably flattered by the proposal,--and if he thought the young man rather wild, supposed that marriage would cure all that. Fräulein Ahlborn brought her husband a fine estate, which she had inherited from her mother."

"Was she forced into the marriage by her father?"

"Not at all. I do not know that she was very devoted to her bridegroom, but possibly she was, for he was a handsome enough young fellow,--his wild life has told upon him now,--but then he might easily have captivated the fancy of a girl of sixteen. This I grant, although I was a student then, visiting very frequently at Herr Ahlborn's, and a little in love with the fair Lucie myself, which did not prepossess me in favour of my fortunate rival. Neither I nor any one else dreamed that Sorr would ever sink so low as he has done. Everybody thought the match an excellent one, and regretted that the charming couple withdrew to the retirement of Frau von Sorr's estate to enjoy their conjugal felicity. Their seclusion, however, did not last longer than a few months. They then returned to town, where Sorr played like a madman, kept a costly racing stud, and spent huge sums upon a notorious ballet-girl, scandalously neglecting his poor wife, who, however, bore her sad fate with divine patience. Fortune dealt her its heaviest blows, for she lost her father, with whom she might have sought a refuge from her husband. Herr Ahlborn was ruined by the bankruptcy of a large business firm, and failed. There might have been some composition with his creditors, but being a man of an even exaggerated sense of honour, he gave up everything. Not one of his creditors lost a penny, but he forfeited his entire fortune. His business friends offered him money and credit wherewith to re-open his manufactory, but he could not endure the thought of beginning life again in a place where he had occupied so high a position. He became gloomy and misanthropic, even refusing to accept assistance from his daughter, who would gladly have given it to him. Taking with him but a small sum of money, the remnant of his large fortune, he left the scene of his former activity, ostensibly to sail for America. They say he never took leave of one of his old friends, but went, without even bidding good-bye to his daughter. This was more than four years ago, and nothing has since been heard of him; he has never written to his daughter, and she does not even know the name of the vessel in which he sailed from Germany. Shortly before his departure he declared that he would either return as a wealthy man or not at all. If he really went to America, which is doubtful, he may not have been successful; perhaps he is dead,--no one knows anything about him. His daughter mourned him deeply; but she soon needed to mourn still more deeply for herself for her miserable husband, after spending all his own fortune, did the same by hers, mortgaging her estate until it had to be sold. Since that took place, how he lives is a mystery. I have told you some of the current explanations of it, and I am sure you must now find it very natural that there should be an expression of melancholy upon Frau von Sorr's lovely face."

The doors of the adjoining supper-room were here opened, and the Assessor broke off his long narrative, saying, "Excuse me, my dear Count, for leaving you, but duty calls. Your charming cousin, Fräulein Adèle, has promised to allow me to take her to supper."

And bowing, he hurried towards the group of ladies, of which Adèle was the centre. He need not have been in any haste, however, for she herself, accompanied by Frau von Sorr, advanced to meet him, saying, with an enchanting smile that transported the little man to the seventh heaven, "I have a request to make of you, Herr von Hahn, and I am sure you will grant it."

"Ask what you will, Fräulein Adèle. You cannot ask what I shall not be proud to grant."

"I will not put your amiability to any severe test," she rejoined; "the fulfilment of my request brings with it its own reward. Pray take my dear Lucie, instead of myself, in to supper."

The Assessor was not altogether charmed, since he had engaged his fair partner for supper a week previously; but he was too courteous to allow a shade of disappointment to appear in his countenance, and his momentary annoyance vanished when Adèle continued, "We must be neighbours at supper, however; keep two places for me at your table, and I will follow you with my cousin, Count Styrum, who, not knowing the customs of our house, has, I fear, engaged no one to go with him to supper."

The Assessor was made supremely happy by her words and manner. Never had this charming creature, to whom for the time he was devoted heart and soul, treated him with such a degree of amiable confidence. He knew better than any one else how far he was from the attainment of his hopes, and therefore the badinage of his military friends had for him a peculiar sting; but now on a sudden his fair one's manner was such as seemed to him to justify his aspirations.

It was the custom at the President's to have the supper-room arranged with many small tables, accommodating each from four to eight persons, at which the guests seated themselves in groups selected among themselves beforehand. This obviated the necessity for caution lest the rules of precedence should be infringed,--a very important consideration in a provincial town,--and greatly promoted the ease and comfort of the guests.

With his head proudly erect, the Assessor conducted Frau von Sorr into the adjoining room, into which other couples were thronging. He soon found an unoccupied table, and was looking round for Count Styrum and Adèle, when Count Repuin approached, and, without according him any salute or attention, addressed Frau von Sorr. "Surely, madame, you cannot have forgotten that you promised me the honour of your society at supper?"

The Count uttered these words in a tone almost of menace, scarcely consistent with the rules of polite society. He was, as was evident from his flashing eyes and his dark frown, controlling himself with difficulty, and the Assessor was very much embarrassed. He was perfectly conscious of the obligation laid upon him to assert his right to escort to supper Frau von Sorr, whose hand still rested upon his arm, but such assertion was by no means easy,--the Russian's gleaming black eyes were so wrathful, and just at the moment the Assessor could not but remember the man's reputation as an unerring pistol-shot, and his great readiness to send a challenge.

Poor Herr von Hahn! He had a most uncomfortable sensation about the throat, somewhat as if his cravat had been suddenly tightened. He cleared it, but could scarcely utter a word; nevertheless something must be ventured, else what would Fräulein Adèle, what would all his acquaintances say? "Count Repuin, excuse me, but I have the honour of being this lady's escort----"

Count Repuin looked down upon him with undisguised contempt as he rather stammered than uttered these words, and then haughtily replied, with a coldness that was almost insulting, "I did not address you, sir. It was not of your mistake that I spoke, but of Frau von Sorr's. Of course you will yield me the right I desire as soon as madame accords it to me."

"Which I shall not do," Frau von Sorr interposed.

She had relinquished the support of the Assessor's arm, and stood tall and stately before the Count, meeting his eye with calm resolve, evidently ready to brave his anger.

Repuin's face flushed crimson,--he bit his lip, and said, with forced calmness, "Have you forgotten, madame, that by your husband's permission I this morning requested to be allowed to conduct you to supper to-night, and that you consented to my request?"

"I have forgotten nothing. Count Repuin, not even the words you addressed to me a few moments ago; let me beg you to leave me."

"I refuse to yield my right," the Count angrily retorted. "If you deny me thus, I must appeal to Herr von Sorr to support my claim."

"I think not, Count Repuin. My friend Frau von Sorr is, I trust, secure from all insult beneath my father's roof."

The words were Adèle von Guntram's. She had arrived, leaning upon Count Styrum's arm, just in time to hear Repuin's angry threat, and now, stepping to her friend's side, she turned to Count Repuin with a degree of dignity and resolution that added much to the Assessor's already great astonishment at such a manifestation on the part of so gentle and amiable a girl, and said, "You have permitted yourself to be carried away by your annoyance, Count, to the extent of addressing a lady in terms inconsistent with our German ideas of courtesy. I must beg you to apologise to my friend."

Count Repuin angrily compressed his lips, but he perfectly understood that he had gone too far, and that upon this antagonist he had not reckoned. If he would not entirely lose the game he was playing he must control himself, and, difficult although it might be, comply with Adèle's demand. He therefore smothered his rage, and, taking Adèle's hand and kissing it with respectful humility, he said, "You shame me, Fräulein von Guntram, yet I cannot but be grateful to you for recalling me to a sense of the duty which, according not only to German ideas, but also to those entertained in Russia and throughout the world, every gentleman owes to a lady whom he has been so unfortunate as to offend. I beg Frau von Sorr's pardon from my soul, and venture to hope for her forgiveness, the more confidently as my irritation was the consequence of my great disappointment at losing a pleasure which she will admit I had some right to anticipate."

Frau von Sorr heeded his apology no more than his threat, but turned to Adèle, who replied to his words and farewell bow by a cool and dignified curtsey.

As soon as he was out of hearing the young girl gave a sigh of relief "Thank Heaven, he is gone! He actually terrifies me, and I had to muster up all my courage to become my poor Lucie's defender. The man is indescribably odious,--Russian from head to foot,--rough, coarse, and brutally passionate one moment, courteous, smooth, and smiling the next, but always false and untrustworthy. However, he has gone, and we will not spoil our pleasure by thinking of him an instant longer. Cousin Karl, let me present you to my dearest friend, Frau von Sorr. My cousin, Count Karl Styrum, Lucie dear; and now let us enjoy our supper together."

CHAPTER II.

Count Karl Styrum had never been very fond of large entertainment, and had accepted his uncle the President's invitation on this evening only because he did not wish to be rude to a relative whom he had not seen for years. The ball had hitherto been rather a bore; he did not dance, and, stranger as he was in this society, he took little interest in watching others dance. The only figure that his eyes followed with any pleasure in the waltz was his cousin Adèle's, and he had intended to slip from the room unobserved, when her gracious and cousinly invitation to him to conduct her to supper frustrated his unsocial plan.

He could not refuse so amiable a proposal, but he promised himself but little entertainment in her society, since, although cousins, they were now almost entire strangers to each other. He had last visited his uncle, his mother's brother, ten years before, when Adèle was a pretty little girl with fair curls, whom he had made a pet of and called his little sweetheart. In the busy years that ensued he had almost forgotten her; indeed, he had hardly remembered her name. Now he had come to M---- to arrange a personal adjustment with his uncle of a lawsuit between them concerning an inherited estate. It had been the cause of a not quite friendly correspondence, and the Count had not looked forward to a renewal of intercourse with his relatives without some misgivings. He was all the more pleased, therefore, by the cordiality with which his uncle received him, and begged him to forget the odious lawsuit entirely, except when it absolutely demanded attention as a matter of business.

"I think, my dear Karl," the President said, when the Count first presented himself at his house a few days before the birthday ball, "we can manage to leave all quarrelling over mine and thine to our lawyers; let us do all we can to aid in the settlement of the question, but if this settlement be delayed, do not, for Heaven's sake, let it disturb the friendliness of our relations with each other any more than should our difference in politics, which latter, most unfortunately, embittered your father towards me during the last years of his life; to the day of his death he could not forgive me because we Prussians were victorious in 1866. I trust that you, Saxon soldier though you be, are more placable, and will reflect, as I do, that your dear mother was my favourite sister, and that we loved each other faithfully as long as she lived. It was not our fault, as we both thought, that our grand-uncle involved us in a lawsuit by an ambiguous will."

Count Styrum could not possibly fail to reciprocate so kind an expression of good will on his uncle's part. He did not, it is true, accept the pressing invitation extended to him to leave the hotel and make the President's house his home while in M----, but he promised to spend every spare hour beneath his roof. He did this the more readily since his cousins welcomed him as cordially as their father had done. On Adèle's part this amiability was certainly sincere, while Heinrich, who was an assessor in his father's office, probably acted in mere compliance with his father's wish in the matter. Adèle was thoroughly pleased with her cousin,--she knew nothing of the lawsuit, and cared nothing for politics,--Karl was to her simply the son of an aunt whom she had dearly loved, and with whom she could remember passing happy weeks, in Dresden, in her childhood, when "Cousin Karl" had always been so kind to her. During all the long years of absence she had never forgotten him, and she treated him now with a degree of sisterly familiarity which greatly pleased him. He would gladly have availed himself of his uncle's kindness to pay frequent visits to his relatives, but his stay in M---- was very short, and most of his time was occupied in interviews with his lawyers, who would not listen to a friendly adjustment of the matter in hand, so that until this evening he had scarcely done more than exchange a few cursory remarks with Adèle. He had been favourably impressed by her frank and easy gayety of manner, but she had not aroused in him any deeper interest, and he had accepted with some reluctance her invitation to be her escort to supper, since this would of necessity detain him longer than he had proposed to stay at the ball. Suddenly, however, his feeling with regard to her changed entirely, upon witnessing her spirited opposition to Count Repuin. How beautiful she was as she confronted the Count with indignation flashing from her eyes! and how lovely was the change in her expression when she turned to her friend with such tender affection! Involuntarily he compared the two young creatures before him.

A few minutes previously he would have pronounced Frau von Sorr the more beautiful of the two,--the most beautiful woman, indeed, whom he had ever seen; but now there was no doubt that the golden-haired Adèle, with her earnest eyes sparkling with anger and then melting with tenderness, was, if not the more beautiful, by far the more attractive. It was strange that never until this instant had he been impressed by this exquisite development of the pretty child into the lovely woman.

And now, when, after Count Repuin's departure, she gayly entreated her friends to forget the unpleasant scene they had witnessed, and when, seated at the supper-table, she did all that she could to dissipate Frau von Sort's melancholy and win a smile from her, she seemed to her cousin more enchanting than ever. She so managed the conversation that neither Frau von Sorr, who could not soon forget what had just occurred, nor the Assessor, who was rather ashamed of the part he had played, was obliged to talk much, while Count Styrum was drawn on to speak of his travels, and this all the more willingly as he felt he was seconding Adèle's efforts in so doing.

The Count had resigned from the army at the close of the war, and, that he might be prepared for the management of the large estates to which he was heir, had spent a year in attending the lectures at Tharandt. Then, in company with a former comrade in the army, who had been his fellow-student also, Baron Arno von Hohenwald, he had travelled for a year in Belgium, Holland, England, and Italy, being finally called home by the death of his father.

The Count was an admirable narrator as well as observer: no one could throw more interest than he into the details of his travels, and on this occasion he surpassed himself. Not only did Adèle listen with sparkling eyes, now and then asking an eager question, but Frau von Sorr was gradually aroused to attention and interest. The Assessor alone was very silent and not at all comfortable. In addition to the mortifying consciousness that he had failed entirely to undertake the defence of Frau von Sorr against Count Repuin, he could not help experiencing a decided envy of Count Styrum, who was thus monopolizing the conversation, and evidently making a favourable impression upon Adèle.

Although he enjoyed the proud consciousness that among the gifts with which kind nature had endowed him, and of which he would not boast, a talent for conversation which had frequently stood him in stead was most conspicuous, here he was undeniably thrown into the background, and this, too, in the presence of his adored Adèle. He several times attempted to divert the talk from these overrated adventures of travel, but without success, until at last, upon the frequent mention by the Count of the name of his companion, Arno von Hohenwald, he broke into the conversation with, "Do I understand you, Count? Are you really speaking of Baron Arno von Hohenwald? I can scarcely credit that you travelled for a year with that gloomy misanthrope, that inveterate woman-hater. And yet it must be so, for to my knowledge there is but one family of Hohenwalds in Saxony, and I ought to know, for I am distantly connected with them myself. I never judge others with severity,--it is not my nature,--but I cannot help pronouncing the Hohenwalds, that is, the old Baron and his son Arno, haughty, disagreeable, inaccessible people, who have very little intercourse with any one, not even their nearest relatives. The best of them all is Arno's brother Werner, the Finanzrath;[^[1]] it is possible to get along with him; but my cousin Arno?---- Really, I cannot understand how you managed to travel with him for a whole year."

"Your judgment of my friend is very harsh and unjust," Count Styrum replied, gravely. "And yet I cannot blame you for it, for there are few who know how to value Arno von Hohenwald, or who, indeed, have any knowledge at all of him."

"Of course; he is absolutely inaccessible. Can you deny that he is a perfect misanthrope, refusing to mingle in any society, and repulsing discourteously every advance made to him?"

"Arno is no misanthrope, but the warmest-hearted fellow and the truest and most loyal of friends. I grant that it is not easy to win his confidence, and that to the superficial observer he may seem to shun intercourse with others; he has no small change of conversation for that society where you, my dear Assessor, are in your element. In the army he had but few intimates, And took no part in our card-parties and the like entertainments. Nevertheless he was a good comrade whom every one liked, for all knew that when there was need of a friend's assistance it was sure to be found at the hands of Arno von Hohenwald, and we forgave his burying himself among his books while we pursued our pleasures. I alone of all his comrades could boast of any real intimacy with him, and I am proud to think that he considered me worthy of his friendship--his confidence."

"Oh, then he has certainly told you the story of his notorious love-affair with the rope-maker's pretty daughter, which ended in his being the furious woman-hater that he is! You must ask the Count to tell you that story, madame. I assure you it made quite a noise at the time at the Court of Saxony, where the Hohenwalds stood very high."

"I am not curious," Frau von Sorr observed.

"But I am!" Adèle interposed. "I confess, Karl, that I take great interest in your friend. I have heard much of him. Madame von Kleist is a cousin of the late Frau von Hohenwald, and the other day, at an afternoon party, she had such wonderful things to tell of the eccentricities of the old Baron and his son Arno, that the entire conversation finally turned upon the Hohenwalds, their lives and their peculiarities. Several of the ladies present were distantly connected with them, and they not only confirmed all that Madame von Kleist said, but contributed various anecdotes to show that the old Baron was no better than an ogre, and that the son Arno was following worthily in his father's footsteps. The old Baron, they said, lives in perfect solitude in Castle Hohenwald, never seeing a visitor, nor indeed any one beside his two sons and his daughter, except, perhaps, the village priest, who is the young girl's tutor. All sorts of tales are told of the way in which the old man has repelled his relatives' advances, as well as of his quarrel with his son Arno, whom he threatened to disinherit because he had betrothed himself to a pretty girl of the bourgeoisie. When the engagement was broken off Arno was reconciled to his father, having become a more terrible misanthrope and woman-hater than the old man himself. So you may readily imagine, Cousin Karl, how I should like, after all these stories, to hear as much of your friend as you can tell us without indiscretion."

Count Styrum looked annoyed. The gossiping Assessor had given a turn to the conversation that necessitated explanations which he would gladly have avoided. Since this turn had been given, however, he felt it due to his friend to disprove the false reports current with regard to the Hohenwalds. "There can be no indiscretion," he said, "in relating facts known to many, although I certainly would rather avoid doing so since I know my friend Arno's dislike of any discussion of his private affairs. However, the truth had better be told about them, that it may counteract these silly rumours with regard to the family, rumours which some of their connections, indeed, are not ashamed to circulate."

The Assessor turned red, feeling that the Count's words might well apply to himself, but he judged it wisest to take no notice of the reproof conveyed in them.

"The Hohenwalds," Karl began, "have furnished food for gossip to the Saxon aristocracy for many years. They are a singular race; their peculiarities have been inherited for generations, but the haughty Barons troubled themselves little as to what the world might say of them, and lived out their convictions with unshaken fidelity. It was a Hohenwald who, in Augustus the Strong's time, stood forth at the Saxon Court as the champion of good old German morality in social life, scourging with bitter words the wanton frivolity of the lovely court dames, and denouncing the extravagant luxury that ruined poor Saxony. All that saved him from persecution and perhaps imprisonment in Königstein was Augustus the Strong's own declaration that the Hohenwalds had always been fools--it was best to let them wag their tongues and pay them no heed. So Werner von Hohenwald was not sent to Königstein, but to his own castle, which he never left for many years, leading much the same hermit-life there as is led by his great-grandson to-day. Another Hohenwald, the father of the present Baron, distinguished himself in the early part of this century as a warm friend of Prussia and a bitter opponent of the Franco-Saxon alliance and of the first Napoleon, who would have had him shot but for the interposition of the king, who declared, as Augustus the Strong had done, that the Hohenwalds were fools, not to be too severely dealt with. He, too, was sent to live in undisturbed retirement in his own castle. The present lord, Baron Werner, resembles his forbears; like them he is unyielding, keen in word and in action, a steadfast, severe man, living according to his own convictions, and holding himself aloof from a world that does not share them. I do not know him personally, but I have heard so much of him from my friend Arno and from my own father, who was intimate with him many years ago, that I have a very vivid idea of him, I can see him in my mind's eye,--a tall, stout old man, his stern face framed in beard and hair of silver, from which the black eyes can flash terribly when he is angry, although they beam mildly enough when their gaze rests upon his darling, his daughter. It is said that in his youth, departing from the traditions of his family, he was a gay and genial man of fashion. As a wealthy landed proprietor, he passed his summers at Hohenwald, his winters in Dresden. At that time my father knew him well, and their friendship lasted for a number of years after the Baron married a Countess Harrangow. He seemed to live very happily with his beautiful wife, keeping open house, as well in Dresden in the winter as in summer upon his estate of Hohenwald, which is not far from the Prussian boundary. His wife's relatives visited him frequently, and often spent weeks beneath his roof, where they were upon the best of terms with the lord of the castle, although they were Prussians, and he a bitter enemy of Prussia and a great friend of Austria, never hesitating to declare his anti-Prussian sentiments in the presence of his Prussian guests.

"A few months after the birth of his youngest child--a daughter--there was a sudden and complete transformation in the Baron's manner of life, the cause of which was entirely unknown. He separated from his wife, who returned to her paternal home, where she received from the Baron a large yearly income, but whither she was not permitted to take her children, two sons and the baby daughter, who remained in Hohenwald. No one knows the reason for this separation; the Baron has never by so much as a word alluded to it, and all the reports concerning it circulated in Dresden society, where the affair of course made a great deal of noise, are utterly without foundation. Even the Baroness, who died within a year after the separation, without seeing either husband or children again, never assigned to her parents any reason for her expulsion--for that is the only term to be applied to it--from Hohenwald. The relatives of the Baroness, who had hitherto always found a welcome at the castle, did all they could to effect a reconciliation between husband and wife, but they were repulsed by the Baron with such harshness and severity that they never renewed their efforts. My father, too, fared no better. Relying upon the claims of long friendship, he complied with the wishes of the king, who regretted that the Baron should have so treated his wife's relatives, and expressed a wish that my father would use his influence with his friend, so that if no thorough reconciliation could be brought about, at least the public scandal of a separation without a divorce might be avoided. With some reluctance my father undertook the task thus assigned him. He could hardly refuse to do so, although he had but small hope of any good result. He went to Castle Hohenwald, where the manner of his reception showed him the hopelessness of his mission.

"The Baron met him with a dark frown. 'What is your business with me, Count?' he asked, without offering his hand. My father, embarrassed by a reception in such marked contrast to the terms of friendship upon which he had felt himself with the Baron, could not, of course, immediately explain the real cause of his appearance at Hohenwald, and spoke courteously of his desire to see a friend from whom he had been separated for some time; but the Baron interrupted him with, 'Pray take no unnecessary pains, Count. I am not fond of idle phrases, and declare to you once for all that I will suffer no one to meddle in my affairs. If you have been sent hither, repeat this to whoever sent you; if you are here of your own free will, take my words to heart. If in consideration of our former friendship you are inclined to do me a kindness, pray shield me from any further attempt to influence me. Say in Dresden that the gates of Castle Hohenwald are in future closed to all visitors; that I have irrevocably and forever broken with all my former acquaintances and friends!'

"It may easily be imagined that my father after this made no attempt to speak with the Baron, but left Castle Hohenwald immediately, never to return to it. From that day the gates of the castle have been closed to every one. One or two attempts were made by near relatives to see the Baron, but they were entirely unsuccessful,--the servants denied him to every one. So completely did he isolate himself from his former world that he answered no letters addressed to him except those relating solely to business. From that time he has led the life of a hermit in his castle, never leaving his estate, seeing no one except the pastor and the doctor. In spite of all this, his servants and the labourers employed upon the estate, as well as the poor of the neighbouring villages, will stoutly deny that he is a misanthrope; they represent him as the kindest of masters, the best of landlords. Therefore I would advise you, Herr von Hahn, to lay stress upon this fact in your future narratives with regard to the life of the Baron von Hohenwald."

"I shall most assuredly do so, my dear Count," said the Assessor; adding, "Justice demands it, and I could not do otherwise, for a love of justice is one of my characteristics. I make no boast of it, for the gifts of nature are various; but so it is, and I am indebted to you for your information with regard to the old Baron von Hohenwald, while I await with eagerness what you have to tell of the son, Baron Arno."

"You will have occasion to modify your judgment of him also, for, in spite of some eccentricities, Arno is one of the best and noblest of men. You have already laid perhaps more than sufficient stress upon the faults which prevent mere acquaintances from rightly estimating his excellence. There is nothing, therefore, for me to do but to explain how he came to share his father's eccentricity and to withdraw himself from society."

"He is a woman-hater, then?" Adèle asked, curiously.

"I cannot exactly contradict you. He shuns the sex for the fault of an individual, but I am sure you will judge him gently when you hear his story. I told you just now that he was a silent and reserved officer. One of our regiment who had been with him at school described him to me as the merriest of lads, always ready for any school-boy prank. But the separation of his parents seems to have made a profound impression upon him, destroying in him all the joyousness and geniality of youth. After his mother's return to her father, Baron von Hohenwald recalled Arno to Hohenwald from school in Dresden, and engaged as tutor for him the pastor of the village, a very earnest and learned man. Thus the boy grew up sharing his father's solitude; perhaps his father confided to him the cause of his lonely life; certain it is that never during our years of intimacy has Arno mentioned to me his mother's name. His relations with his father were most intimate and affectionate. Whatever cause the old Baron had for repudiating his wife, his anger was never visited upon her children. To them he has always been the most kind and indulgent of parents,--even to Arno's elder brother, who was much more of a stranger to him than the others, since he, Werner, was already a student in the university when Arno was recalled from school. The visits to Castle Hohenwald of the elder son, who embraced a diplomatic career, have been of necessity infrequent, so that naturally his father's heart does not cling to him as to the constant inmates of his household.

"His solitary life at Hohenwald fostered in Arno a love of retirement, which was manifest during his military life in Dresden, whither he went to join the army, by his father's desire, at the conclusion of his studies. He would have preferred to embrace one of the learned professions, but his father's wish was his law in this respect; and he made a capital officer, gaining both the respect and the esteem of his comrades and his superiors. He took lodgings in the house of a rope-maker, and, as he spent all his evenings at home, only leaving it to fulfil his military duties, he saw more of his hostess and her pretty daughter than would otherwise have been the case. The daughter, Rosalie, a young girl of sixteen, had been educated for a teacher, and her associates at school had taught her the air and bearing of a higher social rank than her own. How could a young man, who knew nothing of society and the world, fail to be attracted by a girl of extraordinary beauty and a fair degree of culture, and with manners far above those of her class? How could he suspect the utter want of moral training beneath so fair an exterior, or dream of the arts that were practised to attract him? You spoke, Herr von Hahn, of a 'love-affair with the pretty daughter of a rope-maker;' a very grave 'love-affair' it was for Arno, for he asked the girl in marriage of her parents, and of course received from them a glad consent to his wishes. Not only this, but, to the extreme surprise of Rosalie's parents, the old Baron von Hohenwald did not refuse to sanction the marriage. When Arno went to Hohenwald to tell his father of his betrothal, the old man was naturally enough dismayed at the prospect of such a misalliance. He represented to his son all the consequences of so fatal a step, the disapproval it would meet with in all quarters, the annihilation of all prospect of advancement in his profession, the scandal it would cause in aristocratic circles. But when Arno declared that his word was pledged, and that nothing would induce him to recall it, his father withdrew all opposition. He consented to the union, though he refused point-blank to repair to Dresden to see his son's betrothed, declaring that he should have time enough to make her acquaintance after the marriage.

"In Dresden the betrothal made a most disagreeable talk; Arno's comrades were beside themselves; they adjured him to resign all thoughts of the girl, hinting that she was quite unworthy of the sacrifice he was making for her. All that they said was to no purpose, however; and in several cases Arno was with difficulty prevented from calling to a bloody account those who dared to remonstrate with him. The colonel of our regiment, by advice from very high quarters, called upon Lieutenant von Hohenwald, but his representations availed nothing against my friend's obstinacy. Arno professed himself ready to request his dismissal from the army, but not to break his plighted faith. This offer on his part would doubtless have been accepted but that war with Prussia was imminent, and the services of so brave an officer as Arno von Hohenwald could not be spared. It was therefore intimated that the royal consent to his marriage would be accorded him provided he would accede to the king's wish that it should be postponed for a year. To this condition he consented, although the pretty Rosalie pouted and sighed, and her father and mother were quite indignant at the delay.

"During the short campaign that now took him from Dresden, Arno wrote frequently to his betrothed, without, however, receiving a word in reply, a circumstance for which his trusting nature found abundant explanation in the irregularity of the Bohemian postal arrangements. At Königgratz he was severely wounded; indeed, the newspapers reported him killed, and as such they mourned him for weeks at Castle Hohenwald. Meanwhile, he was lying unconscious in the hospital. I was in the same ward with him, only slightly wounded, however; I was soon sufficiently recovered to go to Dresden, on leave, to regain my strength there. When I left Arno his condition was still very critical; in one of his intervals of consciousness he sent a message by me to his betrothed, which I of course made it my duty to deliver as soon as possible. I found only the mother at home when I paid my visit to the rope-maker's, and she shocked and disgusted me by the want of feeling she displayed upon hearing that Arno was not dead, as had been supposed, but only dangerously wounded. She even appeared glad to learn that, in the event of his recovery, it must be months at least before he could come to Dresden. On the same day, however, all that was strange in her behaviour was fully explained to me by the physician whom I consulted with regard to my wound, and who had been a fellow-lodger of Arno's and his warm friend. As such he felt it his duty to acquaint me, the poor fellow's most intimate friend, with the wretched story that so closely concerned him, and that filled me with consternation and disgust. Arno had been infamously deceived both by his betrothed and by her parents, whose sole thought had been how to enrich themselves at whatever expense of honour and honesty. Some time before her betrothal to Arno, Rosalie had been secretly under the protection of a wealthy manufacturer in Dresden, her connection with whom, when the report of Arno's death seemed to her to free her from the necessity for concealment, became a day's theme for public gossip. She flaunted her disgrace abroad, meeting with no opposition from her parents in her downward career. There is no need to dwell upon the details of this miserable business; the investigations I felt it my duty to my friend to prosecute fully confirmed the physician's story. This being the case, what was I to do? Of course, I ought to acquaint Arno with the facts I had learned, and yet the knowledge of them might kill him in his present precarious state. I needed advice in the matter, and I turned for it to my friend's father. I wrote to him telling him all, begging him to come to Dresden to receive personal confirmation of the truth of what I wrote, and offering, if he desired it, to go immediately to Arno and inform him of his betrothed's worthlessness. I supposed that the Baron would reply to my letter in person, but he did not come to Dresden; by return of post I received a letter from him, expressing heart-felt gratitude to me. 'I need,' he wrote, 'no further confirmation: it is for my son to investigate this matter. Of course he will not condemn his betrothed without hearing her in her own defence. I suffer greatly from the gout, and cannot come to Dresden; besides, I do not think myself justified in forestalling my son in this matter.' He then begged me to fulfil my promise to go to Arno as soon as possible and tell him all. 'Do not be afraid,' he said, in conclusion, 'that you will retard my son's recovery in thus performing your duty as his friend. We Hohenwalds come of a tough stock, and know how to bear pain; it may perhaps bend, but it will not break us. Believe me when I tell you this.'

"He was right, as I found when a few days later, sitting at Arno's bedside, and finding him quite himself again, I tried to prepare him gently for what I had to say. He perceived instantly that I was the messenger of evil tidings, and briefly and firmly bade me speak out and tell him all that was to be told. I did so, and he listened in gloomy silence, with downcast eyes, asking no question, giving no sign, except the convulsive clinching of the hand that lay on the coverlet, of the storm of emotion raging within him. When I had finished, he looked up with eyes that seemed to read my very soul. 'I do not thank you,' he said. 'I cannot tell, before I have seen and learned for myself, whether you have rendered me the greatest service that one friend can render to another, or whether I must call you to account as my mortal foe. Until then we must part. Leave me now. I shall soon seek you out in Dresden, either to thank or----'

"I tried to soothe him, but he repulsed me sternly, and I returned to Dresden without seeing him again. His surgeon informed me that he considered his condition very alarming, that he feared the worst, and that at all events it must be months before he could leave the hospital. So I left him, filled with remorse for having followed the old Baron's advice; but scarcely four weeks had passed when one day Arno entered my room in Dresden. He looked terribly,--his dark eyes gleamed with unnatural brilliancy in his wasted countenance, his right arm was in a sling, while, although he supported himself upon a stout cane, he could scarcely stand. When I hurried towards him he sank, half fainting, into my arms, and I carried rather than led him to a lounge. He pressed my hand, and, as soon as he could speak, said, 'I thank you; you told me nothing but the truth, and yet not all the truth. You have saved me from a horrible fate, and I never will forget it. Add still further to my obligations to you by granting me one request: I entreat you never, never again to make the faintest allusion to that wretched girl.' I promised, and since that day not one word with regard to her has passed Arno's lips. How he parted from her I never knew. He had spent two days in ascertaining the truth of the story I had told him, and then came to my room, which it was long before he left again. His strength of will had sustained him until his purpose was fulfilled, and then he was utterly prostrated. For many a night I watched by his bed, hopeless as to his recovery, but in the end his vigorous constitution conquered. The old Baron was right.

"During his convalescence we often discussed our plans for the future. We both resolved to send in our resignations. I spare you our reasons for this course of action, for I know that you, my dear Assessor, are one of Prince Bismarck's most enthusiastic supporters, and that my lovely cousin Adèle, as the daughter of a Prussian official high in rank, could hardly appreciate the feeling that made it impossible for us to continue in the army after peace was concluded. Arno's political opinions so closely coincided with my own that our plans for the future were the same. For him, as for me, it was simply impossible to accept office under government, and so we determined to withdraw altogether from public life, to study the management of estates and to find our calling in the future in administering our own.

"I wrote to my father, and received his speedy approval of my resolution. Arno, as soon as he was strong enough, set out for Hohenwald. I proposed to accompany him, but to this he objected, telling me frankly that he could not invite even his dearest friend to Hohenwald; that his father's seclusion must be invaded by no stranger. He attained his wish, however; his father had no objection to make to his plans; and so we both went to Tharandt to study, and later travelled through Europe together, until my father's death called me home. Since then Arno has been living in Hohenwald, where, as he writes me, he has undertaken the management of his estates. I have not seen him, for Hohenwald is closed to every one; but we correspond constantly, and he has promised to pay me a visit shortly."

CHAPTER III.

The ladies had listened eagerly to Count Styrum's narrative. Frau von Sorr, indeed, was so impressed and interested by all that she heard of the Freiherr that she forgot for the moment the late disagreeable encounter with Count Repuin.

Adèle was no less interested. So absorbed was she in her cousin's account that she did not notice a certain restlessness that had begun to pervade the guests seated at the numerous small supper-tables. It was the invariable custom at the President's balls for the daughter of the house to give the signal for the renewal of dancing, by leaving the supper-room escorted by her cavalier. This duty the young girl, usually so attentive a hostess, had wellnigh forgotten, and she would have continued to question her cousin upon the subject that so interested her, had not her brother Heinrich reminded her that their guests were awaiting with some impatience the return to the ball-room. He left the table where he had been playing the part of host, and, standing behind his sister's chair, whispered in her ear, "You seem to have forgotten, Adèle, that it is high time the dancing began again."

"Why are you in such a hurry? You are not used to be so eager to dance," Adèle replied, in a tone of some annoyance.

"I speak for our guests, who have been looking impatiently for your leaving the supper-room, as you would have seen yourself had not interest in your conversation with our cousin made you blind and deaf to everything else. Let me beg you now to bestow a little attention upon others."

Although her brother's reproof might have been more amiably administered, Adèle felt the justice of what he said, and, rising instantly, begged Count Styrum to conduct her to the ball-room. The other couples followed her immediately, and the supper-room was soon emptied of all the guests with the exception of the elderly gentlemen, for whom the President now produced his choicest Havanas, and whose enjoyment of the evening only rightly began when, supper finished, they could linger over their wine with closed doors.

For those younger men who were not enthusiastic dancers, but who were fond of high play, Heinrich von Guntram had his own sanctum prepared. The gaming-table was set out, the champagne duly iced, and he only waited until the dancing should have begun to assemble there the chosen few. His father discountenanced gaming, and therefore there had been no mention of play before supper, but now that the President was occupied with his special friends, Heinrich dutifully danced once with his partner at supper, and then led the way to his room, followed by all those for whom gaming always formed part of an evening's entertainment.

"Are you tired of dancing, Count Repuin?" he asked the Russian, who stood in a doorway, gloomily watching Frau von Sorr as she was waltzing with the Assessor. "Come to my room and you will find a cigar."

"And cards?"

"Of course."

"Have you asked Sorr?"

"No; you know----"

"Yes, I know; but you will do me a great favour if you will ask him to join us."

This request embarrassed Heinrich; he did not like to spare the Russian from the card-table, for he always lost, when he did lose, with great equanimity, but he was naturally disinclined to extend his invitation to Sorr. "I have already asked Arnim," he said, hesitating, "and I am afraid----"

"Of his making a scene with Sorr," the Russian completed his sentence. "You need not be afraid. Whatever Arnim might say at the club with regard to Sorr, be sure that beneath your roof he will respect him as your guest. Indeed, you will greatly oblige me, Herr von Guntram, by asking Sorr."

"If you really wish it, of course I will do so," Heinrich replied; "but I would far rather that the invitation should come from you than from me. I could then excuse myself to Arnim, upon the plea that not I, but you, introduced him."

"Be it so," said the Count. "I will bring him with me, with your permission. All that Herr von Arnim said was that he would not play when Sorr kept the bank, and we can easily arrange that. I will not follow you with Sorr until half an hour has elapsed, and your game will have been begun when we arrive."

Heinrich assented; he left the Russian, and, as he passed through the ball-room, observed that Count Styrum was standing alone, looking on at the dancers. "You are no dancer, Count," he said, addressing him. "I think you did not dance before supper either."

"No, I never dance much; and just now, as you know, I am in mourning."

"It must bore you to look on at all this spinning and whirling. If you have not forsworn cards, cousin, you will find in my room a good cigar, excellent champagne, and a few very clever fellows."

"Do you play high?"

"Not at all, not at all. Count Repuin stakes rather large sums sometimes, but no one else among us does so, except perhaps Herr von Sorr, when he has any money, which is not often. The rest of us stake but little; we play merely to kill time."

Count Styrum cared very little for play. He had now and then won and lost small sums at a public gaming-table, but it had been more out of compliance with the wish of some friend who desired his companionship than from any interest in the game. He would have refused his cousin's invitation but that he was curious to know more of Herr von Sorr, and thought that no better opportunity could offer for meeting the man who was husband to the beautiful woman who had so interested him. He therefore followed Heinrich, who led the way to the room which he called his study, and presented him to the young men, mostly officers, there assembled. Count Repuin and Herr von Sorr were not yet present.

"Who is to keep the bank?" asked Herr von Saldern, who, impatient to begin, was already shuffling the cards.

"Let us take turns; each put in twenty-five thalers."

"Twenty-five thalers is too little. There are but ten of us, and that would only make two hundred and fifty thalers,' Herr von Saldern objected.

"Come, come, Saldern, you shall not insist upon high play," said Herr von Arnim. "Let us have a comfortable evening, and not dip too deep in one another's pockets. I agree to Guntram's proposal, but upon condition that the bank is kept only by one of those now present."

"But why?"

"Because I suspect that Sorr will find his way here before long; he has a wonderful scent for cards. I have declared that I will not play when he keeps the bank, and I will run no risks."

"You ought to be more careful in speaking of Herr von Sorr, my dear Arnim," Heinrich von Guntram remonstrated.

"Bah! I don't care that whether or not he hears what I say," said Arnim, snapping his fingers. "Besides, he ought to feel flattered by my fear of him. At all events, I am superstitious, and feel sure I shall lose my money if Sorr keeps the bank; so I repeat my condition, and will not take part in the game unless it be accepted."

"Well, well, it is accepted. Let us begin, and let Guntram be banker first!" the rest cried, impatiently, as they seated themselves at the table; and Guntram, after receiving twenty-five thalers from each of the players, began the game as banker. He had hardly drawn the first card when Count Repuin and Herr von Sorr made their appearance.

"I knew it!" Herr von Arnim whispered to Count Styrum. "Sorr scents cards ten miles off; no vulture could be keener. Pray, Herr von Sorr," he added, aloud, as the latter seemed inclined to take a seat between Arnim and Count Styrum, "be good enough to find a place the other side of the Count. I do not like to lose so agreeable a neighbour, and there really is no room on this side."

All eyes were turned upon Sorr, and every one looked for some hasty reply to Arnim's words, which were almost insulting from their tone and the manner in which they were uttered; but Sorr either did not or would not perceive intentional offence in them, and, merely saying, "You are right; there is more room here," placed a chair on the right of Count Styrum and took his seat in it.

This propinquity was not undesirable to the Count, who now had the best possible opportunity for observing the man of whom he had heard so much from the Assessor. As he did so he could not help saying to himself, "How could this man ever have won the affection of that charming woman?" Never had he been more disagreeably impressed by any one, and yet he could hardly tell why this was so. Herr von Sorr's features were regular; his fair full beard and curling light hair became him well; his blue eyes were fine in form and colour; but the expression of both features and eyes was to the Count most repulsive. An artificial smile constantly played about his finely-chiselled lips. His eyes never looked fairly into those of the man whom he addressed; there was an air of utter weakness and want of character about him; defects which, beyond all others, Count Styrum despised.

The game began, and was very moderately conducted. Count Repuin, who was seated opposite Sorr, beside Heinrich von Guntram, now and then staked a large sum, which he usually lost. Sorr staked but little; between him and Count Styrum on the table there was a little heap of silver and paper money, from which he took his stakes and to which he added his winnings; beside it lay the pocket-book of the Count, who, for want of small notes, had one of larger amount changed by the banker. The game interested him but slightly, and he had abundant opportunity to watch the players, who, in spite of the small stakes, gradually displayed an eagerness which was by no means allayed by the champagne with which the servant in attendance plied them.

The company began to grow noisy. Heinrich von Guntram, who had handed over the bank to Herr von Arnim, and who began to stake larger sums, cursed his luck loudly, and was laughed at by Arnim, who had a ready word of ridicule for all, and bidden to imitate the composure of Herr von Sorr, who won or lost with equal grace.

Herr von Sorr did not seem to hear Arnim's persiflage; his attention all appeared to be given to the game, and he showed a moderation in drinking which contrasted strikingly with the conduct of his friend Count Repuin, who emptied glass after glass of the champagne, which Sorr refused, confining himself to a few glasses of seltzer water. The wine, however, appeared to produce no effect upon the Russian; he seemed not at all excited and observant only of the game. But Styrum, who watched him narrowly, perceived that this was only seeming; that in reality Repuin's whole attention was given to Styrum's neighbour, Sorr.

Thus the game lasted for about an hour, when Repuin rose from the table. "I have had enough for to-night," he said, gathering up his money; "and you too, Count Styrum, seem but little interested. Shall we not, without disturbing the others, take a quiet cigar together in the next room and discuss--our Italian experiences, for example? I think we were at Naples at the same time."

Count Styrum was greatly surprised at being thus addressed. He did not know the Russian, to whom he had been but formally introduced. What could be his reason for desiring to converse privately with an entire stranger in the next room? He must have some special aim in view, although what this was Styrum could not divine. He hesitated to accept the invitation of the man whose behaviour towards Frau von Sorr had so disgusted him, but curiosity to know what the Russian contemplated conquered his reluctance, and, taking his offered arm, he accompanied him into the adjoining room, the door of which Repuin closed behind them.

"I thank you for accepting my invitation, Count," said the Russian, from whose face the courteous smile vanished as soon as they were alone. "You guess, of course, that I have sought this interview with you for a graver object than any discussion of Italian experiences. I shall therefore, without circumlocution, come to the point at once with a question which will doubtless strike you as very strange. Do you know how much money there was in the pocket-book which lay before you on the table, and which you have just put into your pocket?"

"Your question is indeed a strange one!"

"I will explain it immediately, if you will be so kind as to give me an answer."

"I cannot see what possible interest the amount of money that I carry in my pocket-book can have for you, Count Repuin, but, since you wish it, I can tell you about how much there was. When I sat down to play I had five one-hundred-thaler notes in my pocket-book; one of these I exchanged for two fifties; one of these again I put into my pocket-book, using the other for the game, so that, besides some small notes, the amount of which I cannot tell you, since I do not know how much I won or lost, my pocket-book must contain four hundred-thaler notes and one fifty."

"Thank you. I pray your patience for a moment, and you shall understand my apparently indiscreet question. Be so obliging as to take out your pocket-book and see whether it contains the sum you have mentioned."

"Count Repuin, this is a most extraordinary request!"

"It is; and if you insist, I will instantly explain it to you, but you would greatly oblige me by first glancing at the contents of your pocket-book; my demand can easily be complied with."

Styrum could not avoid granting a request couched in terms so courteous; he opened his pocket-book and counted his notes, finding, to his great astonishment, that they numbered only three hundred-thaler notes in addition to the fifty and the smaller sums.

"Well, is your money all right?" asked Repuin, who was watching him with eager interest.

"No; a hundred-thaler note is missing. It must have dropped on the floor when I changed the other. I will go look for it."

"Do not trouble yourself, Count; you will find nothing," the Russian calmly rejoined. "I will find it for you, and, in doing so, will entirely explain my apparently unjustifiable curiosity."

He awaited no reply from Styrum. Opening the door leading into the next room, he called, in an imperious tone, "Herr von Sorr, one word with you. Count Styrum wishes to speak to you."

A livid pallor overspread Sorr's countenance. Did he suspect what was coming? He started, and one hand sought his breast-pocket, but before it could reach it it was seized by Count Repuin and held as if in a vice. "Leave the contents of your pocket untouched," the Russian whispered in his ear. "Follow me instantly,--I command you!"

Sorr obeyed, following the Russian like a trembling slave.

"What is the matter?" was the question that hovered upon the lips of all, and that was uttered aloud by one of the young men at the table. Although Repuin's last words had been spoken in a tone so low as to reach Sorr's ears alone, all had heard his first authoritative summons and had seen Sorr's confusion as the Count had seized his hand, and all wondered what was the matter, although only one uttered the question.

"Something very disagreeable, most certainly," Heinrich von Guntram made reply. "In my opinion, gentlemen, we had better finish the game and go back to the ball-room as soon as possible. Let those three end their business as seems to them best; the less we know of it the better."

"But our bank!" Herr von Saldern exclaimed.

"Arnim, who is banker, will attend to all that, and see that each one receives his due proportion; will you not, Herr von Arnim?"

"'Tis already done, my dear fellow. You will take charge of Count Styrum's share," replied Arnim. "Be quick, gentlemen; here is your money. I agree with Guntram that the less we hear of what is going on in the next room the better. Let us go back to the ball-room. This scandalous scene will at all events convince our friend Guntram how unfit Sorr is to be admitted to the society of gentlemen, and we shall, I hope, be spared any association with him in future."

Count Repuin closed the door of the next room after Sorr, and then, turning to Count Styrum, said, "I will now give you the solution of the riddle I have just read you, Count." As he spoke he leaned against the closed door, and looked with disdainful contempt at the miserable wretch before him, who would evidently have fled from the room had not the Russian's tall form barred his egress.

Styrum had already taken a thorough dislike to Count Repuin, from witnessing his behaviour towards Fran von Sorr. Now, as he marked the triumphant malice that mingled with the contempt expressed in his face, this dislike deepened to what was almost a horror. He divined what would be the solution of the riddle of the lost money; he remembered all that the Assessor had said of Sorr, and, recalling the keen scrutiny that Repuin had bestowed upon Sorr's movements at the gaming-table, he could not doubt why the Russian had summoned the pale, trembling wretch before him. Still, he could not understand the triumph with which Repuin was regarding the detected thief. Was he not, according to the Assessor's report, the man's intimate friend? What reason could he have for sacrificing him merely to restore some lost money to a stranger? This riddle Styrum could not solve, for it was incredible that Repuin should act thus, simply from indignation at Sorr's dishonesty.

After a moment's pause the Russian turned to Styrum: "Do you now guess, Count, where your hundred-thaler note will be found? You do not reply? Well, I will tell you; it is at present in Herr von Sorr's breast-pocket, whither it was conveyed from your pocket-book, with immense dexterity it is true, but not dexterously enough to elude my vigilance. He is the thief,--does he dare to deny it?"

He did not dare. Repuin's words seemed to annihilate him, all the more that they were uttered by a man whom he had thought his friend. Pale and trembling, unable to articulate a word in self-defence, he bowed before the terrible fate that had thus overtaken him. All power of resistance seemed crushed out of him. In silence he awaited his sentence.

"Give back the stolen note to Count Styrum," the Russian ordered.

Again he obeyed; he was incapable of thought,--Repuin's iron will ruled him irresistibly. Automatically be put his hand into his breast-pocket, took out the note, and handed it to Count Styrum.

"I have kept my word," Repuin continued. "You are again in possession of the missing note. We must now consider what is to be done with this scoundrel. It is your part, as the sufferer by his theft, to decide this. Shall we deliver him over to justice and a jail? He is ripe for it; this is not his first crime of the kind, as his skill in committing it testifies. Let us take the gentlemen in the next room into council, and send for the police. What say you, Count?"

"For God's sake, have mercy upon me!" With this cry Sorr threw himself at the Russian's feet. But Repuin thrust him from him. "Hands off, scoundrel! To me you appeal in vain. There stands your judge!"

He pointed as he spoke to Count Styrum, and to him the wretched Sorr turned with clasped hands. "Spare me, Count!" he implored. "I have given you back the note. Have pity!"

Pity for the worthless creature who crawled thus in the dust after his detection Count Styrum could not feel. Why should he have any compassion upon the miserable worldling who had squandered his means in every kind of low dissipation and was now nothing more nor less than a common thief? He deserved mercy less than did the criminal whom want and misery had driven to steal. It was his duty to banish him from the society of honest men and deliver him over to a just punishment.

And yet, just at this moment, there presented itself to Count Styrum's mind a vision of the lovely young creature who, without a suspicion of the horrible fate impending over her, had but a short time before listened to his words with such interest. Would not a just sentence pronounced upon her husband crush her also? And Adèle,--Frau von Sorr was her dearest friend. What a blow her misery would inflict upon Adèle!

Thus Styrum was still undecided between the consideration he felt for Frau von Sorr and for his cousin's peace of mind and the evident duty of delivering over a thief to justice, when suddenly an idea occurred to him that caused him to waver no longer. What reason had Count Repuin for convicting his friend of a theft? Was he weary of a friendship which, as the Assessor reported, cost him so much money? Had the disdainful repulse he had but now received from Frau von Sorr incited him to revenge? Or did he hope by ruining the husband to plunge the wife into such misery that she would in the end be accessible to his degrading advances? He looked quite capable of so devilish a scheme.

"Decide, Count!" Repuin said, hastily. "What is done must be done quickly!"

"I have decided," Count Styrum replied. "We owe it to the hospitality extended to us beneath this roof to avoid a scandal which would be most painful to my uncle and to my cousin Adèle."

"And you will let the fellow go scot-free?" Repuin asked, gloomily.

"If we allow him to escape the legal penalty of his villainy, his sole punishment must be the memory of this hour, which, I trust, may serve him as a warning."

"Oh, Count Styrum, how shall I thank you!" exclaimed Sorr, to whose cheeks the colour began to return, as he attempted, but vainly, to take Styrum's hand.

"Spare me your acknowledgments," said Styrum, turning from him with disgust. "It is owing to no sympathy for you, but to consideration for the society in which I find you, that you are spared the punishment you deserve. Go,--take my advice, and leave my uncle's house on the instant. I trust I shall never meet you again beneath his roof."

Sorr would immediately have followed this counsel, but it was impossible, for Repuin, who was still leaning with folded arms against the closed door, did not stir. The Russian's eyes were gloomily fixed on the ground; evidently he was dissatisfied with Styrum's decision, and was considering whether or how he should combat it. As Sorr approached him he looked up. "You are in too great a hurry," he said, disdainfully. "You and I are not yet quits; we have a few points to discuss that would hardly interest Count Styrum. I left the decision in this matter to you, Count, since you were the injured party, and I bow to it, but I cannot suffer this man longer to frequent a society in which he is regarded as my friend, and where I must continually encounter him. The means that I shall use to prevent this will depend upon the result of a private conversation, which I must insist upon having with Herr von Sorr."

There was in these words so direct a request to be left alone with Sorr that Count Styrum could not but comply; he had no right to remain, although an imploring look from Sorr seemed to entreat him to do so. With a slight inclination to Repuin, who instantly made way, and even opened the door, he left the room.

Scarcely was he gone when Sorr raised his head. The degradation of the moment when his villainy had been unmasked in the presence of a stranger had robbed him of all power of self-defence; now that he found himself alone with the Russian he was once more able to speak; his wrath he might hope to appease. Although Repuin's savagely passionate nature had always impressed him with a kind of terror, he thought he could devise a means to pacify him, difficult as it might be. Extreme caution was necessary,--in Count Styrum's presence this means could not be mentioned, but now, let him but soothe his antagonist with hopes of the fulfilment of his wild desires and all might yet be well.

"How could you--you of all men--act as you have just done, Count?" Sorr began. "How have I deserved such treatment at your hands? You know how devoted I am to your interests, how grateful for all you have done for me,--that I should think no sacrifice too great to testify this gratitude to you, and yet you--you it is who would ruin me!"

Repuin looked down with haughty contempt upon the cringing figure before him. He had spent months in studying this man, and his servile, degraded soul was as an open book before him; he knew the precise value of all these asseverations.

"Spare me your protestations, Herr von Sorr," he replied, "they will avail you nothing. I did not detain you here to listen to your assurances of friendship and gratitude, but to put a stop to any such. I have lost my interest in the game which you and your beautiful wife have been playing with me. I must be done with it. Understand me,--I refuse to be any longer either your dupe or your wife's."

"I do not understand you. I----"

"You shall learn to do so. I know you. I have scrutinized your every action for months past; your very thoughts are laid bare to me; I knew, when I brought you to Guntram's room to-night, that you would deliver yourself into my hands, either by cheating or, as has been the case, by theft. I knew when Count Styrum left his pocket-book open before you how it would all end."

There was an expression of absolute horror on Sorr's face as he listened to these words. That Repuin's treatment of him was due to no sudden impulse, no outbreak of passion, but was the result of a cool, well-considered scheme, robbed him of all hope, and he stood before his savage persecutor and judge an image of despairing guilt.

A cruel smile hovered upon Repuin's lips; he was satisfied with the effect his words had produced; without awaiting a reply, he continued: "You thought to play with me, Herr von Sorr; you were but a tool in my hands,--a tool to be thrown away whenever it pleased me. I should have done so long since, but for certain considerations. I might have unmasked the thief in the little affair with that other lost note of Herr von Saldern's, which I see you remember, but the fruit was not quite ripe, and I disdained to shake the tree. I am not fond of violent measures. I prepare them for my use, but I use them only in cases of absolute necessity. So long as I hoped to win your wife to listen to my suit, and to purchase her husband's easy compliance with money and a show of friendship, I allowed you to go your way. I thought you wise enough to use your influence with your wife in my favour. I paid you well for such service; but to-day she has shown me that it is vain to attempt to proceed upon a friendly footing. She has offended, insulted me; the consequences be upon her head. For what has happened to-night you may thank your beautiful wife."

"What--what has happened?" Sorr exclaimed, marking with terror the savage gleam in the Russian's eyes.

"Your wife repulsed me with scorn and left me, when, after the dance to-night, I whispered a few passionate words in her ear; and although by agreement with you she was engaged to me for supper, she refused my escort, and took the arm of that fool, Von Hahn!"

"Impossible!" exclaimed Sorr. "When she promised me so faithfully! She shall atone for it; she shall make you ample reparation!"

"If your influence with your wife is so powerful, you should have exerted it earlier," Repuin said, with cruel scorn.

"How was I to know that Lucie would break her word? But you shall have satisfaction; I swear you shall. I do not deserve that you should punish me thus for Lucie's actions. I am your most devoted friend; ask of me what you will, and you shall be obeyed."

"I look for no less from you," Repuin replied, "though I certainly do not reckon upon your friendship or gratitude, but upon your fear. That you may know clearly what you have to expect, I will tell you plainly what I meant, and still mean to do. Entire frankness is the best policy between us. I love your wife passionately, madly; I have sworn that she shall be mine at all hazards. Though I should commit murder in pursuit of her, she shall be mine. You must separate from your wife. She must be left to me."

Sorr fairly staggered. He had, indeed, long known that Count Repuin loved his beautiful wife; he had built upon this love his hopes of mollifying the Count; but for this infamous demand he was not prepared. He had often made shameful capital of his wife's exquisite beauty when young men of fortune were to be decoyed to his house and to the gaming-table; his dissipated life had long since destroyed in him all ennobling affection for her; he felt no jealousy upon seeing her surrounded by admirers; he had even exulted when the wealthy Russian had been evidently conquered by her charms. And yet he was horrified by Repuin's demand; to comply with it would banish him from the world in which he had hitherto lived; who would take the slightest notice of him if Lucie were no longer his wife?

"What you ask is impossible!" he gasped, at last.

"Do not dare to talk of 'impossible' to me!" the Russian angrily exclaimed. "I require obedience of you, and if you refuse I will hand you over to justice. Count Styrum, if summoned to court as a witness, must tell what he knows, however unwilling he may be to do so. Your fate in such a case is certain. Your only alternative would be to send a bullet through your brains before you were arrested. If, however, you consent to my will, I will not only be silent, and engage that Count Styrum shall be silent, but I will also pay you ten thousand thalers down. You shall receive the money on the day when your wife becomes mine and we start for the Italian tour. You see I am magnanimous. I buy your wife of you when I might force you to give her up to me. Choose,--your fate is in your own hands!"

As Sorr looked up at the Count's face filled with savage resolve, he felt that all hope was lost. "My wife will never consent to it," he said, with hesitation.

"That would be unfortunate for you; but I am sure she will yield if you tell her the true state of the case. Describe to her her future as the wife of a convict. How will she live when her present support is closely confined behind bolts and bars? Upon the other hand paint to her the delights of a life by my side. There is no wish that she can frame that it will not be my joy to gratify. If the fair Lucie is not insane, I think that a just representation of the state of affairs--and this must be your task--will soon convince her of what choice she had best make."

"You do not know my wife," Sorr said, still hesitatingly,--he was afraid of arousing the Count's anger, and yet he dared not keep back the truth: "her pride transcends belief; she would prefer the most fearful fate, even death itself, to a life with you."

"Exert all your eloquence, Herr von Sorr, and I am convinced you will succeed. Remember the sword that is suspended above your head, and that you alone can avert its fall. But enough for the present; you will now return to the ball-room, only to leave it immediately with your wife upon whatever pretext you may devise,--a sudden indisposition or something of the kind. I owe it to Count Styrum that you spend not an instant longer than is absolutely necessary beneath this roof. You will inform your wife this very night of what has been agreed upon between us. I will wait no longer than to-morrow morning for the result. Come to me early and let me know what it is, and I will decide what is next to be done."

"Count----"

"Not another word! Your part is to obey; woe upon you if you fail! I shall expect you to-morrow morning by eight o'clock at the latest!"

With a haughty, scarcely perceptible nod, the Russian withdrew, and finding Heinrich's room--whence the gamblers had long since departed--empty, returned to the ball-room.

CHAPTER IV.

After supper there had not been the amount of gayety that was wont to distinguish the President's balls. The young people had begun to dance, and the elderly folk to enjoy the delights of card-room and smoking-room, when there was whispered through the assemblage a rumour that interfered greatly with the merriment of the evening. It was first heard in the ball-room; whence it originated no one could exactly tell, but there it was, flying from lip to lip. The younger men were seen to crowd around Guntram and the officers from Heinrich's room, whom they plied with questions, and although it had been agreed that no mention was to be made of the disagreeable circumstance that had occurred there, the dark rumour was not long in taking shape.

How it came about that first the elder ladies and then the younger portion of the assemblage learned it no one could tell, but it circulated everywhere in the ball-room, and finally penetrated to the smoking-room, where the older men left their cigars and cards and returned to the ball-room to ascertain what had happened.

They found the greatest excitement prevailing there; the band was still playing, it is true, but there were only a few couples on the floor, and these danced without enthusiasm, and apparently merely for form's sake.

And what was it all about? No one could precisely say. Had Count Repuin actually boxed Herr von Sorr's ears in Heinrich's room and called him a cheat and thief? Oh, no! it was not Count Repuin. He had interfered when Count Styrum, who had been robbed by Sorr, would have chastised the thief, and high words had passed between the two Counts. It would certainly end in a duel. This was the tale told to Adèle by the wife of Major Gansauge; but Frau von Rose, who stood by, declared that she had it from the best authority--her informant had begged that his name might not be mentioned--that there was not a word of truth in the whole story. It all came from Herr von Arnim's recklessly accusing Herr von Sorr of playing unfairly. Poor Herr von Sorr was very likely not so much to blame; he played high, to be sure, but, good heavens! plenty of people did that nowadays, and Arnim was probably irritated because Sorr's luck was better than his own. He had lost his temper, accused Sorr of cheating; Sorr had naturally resented it; a duel was impending; Count Styrum was to be Arnim's second, while Count Repuin was to act as poor Herr von Sorr's friend. It was outrageous that such an affair should disturb the gayety of one of the dear President's charming balls. Poor dear Lucie von Sorr was most to be pitied, for every one knew that Arnim was the best shot in the world and always killed his man. But there was Count Styrum just come back to the ball-room; he could tell all about it, if he only would.

Adèle listened with impatience to the contradictory statements of the two ladies. They were both noted gossips, and equally untrustworthy, but there must be something wrong, else how could the report of some kind of scene in Heinrich's room have circulated everywhere, even reaching the ears of Frau von Sorr, who, in some agitation, had begged her friend to discover the truth of the matter for her?

Heinrich, to whom his sister had first turned for information, had refused, somewhat roughly, to give her any satisfaction. "Old women's gossip," was his only reply, as he turned his back upon her. His manner only served to convince Adèle that there was some truth in the rumours she had heard, and anxiety for her friend Lucie induced her to pay some heed to the talk of the two old ladies in hopes of learning some fact of consequence. Her only satisfaction had been in hearing that her cousin, Count Styrum, could give her the information she desired. It was not easy, however, to enter into conversation with him, for immediately upon his return to the ball-room he was surrounded by eager questioners, each curious to know all that he could tell. In her friend's interest, however, Adèle was brave. She walked towards the group of gentlemen, who instantly made way for the lovely daughter of their host, and, accosting Styrum, said, "Cousin Karl, let me beg you to conduct me to a seat."

The Count instantly offered her his arm, and, while conducting her through the room, quietly remarked, "I suspect why you have sought me. You want to know the truth with regard to the occurrence in Heinrich's room, concerning which such wild rumours have got abroad with inconceivable rapidity. Am I not right?"

"Yes, cousin; I implore you to tell me the whole truth. My poor Lucie is quite beside herself with anxiety. Only see how pale she is! Never was there a woman so self-controlled as she. Look, she is smiling now, as she must so often when her heart is almost breaking; but she cannot quite conceal her torturing fear that something terrible has occurred. Take me to a seat beside her, that you may tell us both what has happened."

"That I cannot do," the Count replied, gravely. "I will willingly tell you all that I know, but I cannot describe to that most unfortunate woman the disgraceful scene which I was forced to witness. You are her most intimate friend, and yet I doubt if even you will be able to tell her the whole truth. With this I can acquaint only yourself, your father, and your brother."

Adèle looked around; she noted the curious eyes fixed upon the Count and herself; she knew that it would create gossip if she indulged in a longer tête-à-tête with her cousin, if she withdrew with him from the throng; but she would brave it all for the sake of her poor Lucie. "Let us go out upon the balcony," she said; "there is no one there at present; the gentlemen are all gathered about Heinrich and his friends."

It excited no little observation in the ball-room when Styrum led his cousin out upon the balcony.

"Look, look!" the major's wife whispered to her crony, Frau von Rose. "That is a little too strong. I know they are relatives and all that, but it is possible to presume too much upon such relationships. Out alone on the balcony with him! Who would ever have thought it of the little prude!"

"What are you thinking of, my dear?" Frau von Rose whispered in her turn. "Adèle is as good as betrothed to the Assessor von Hahn. I have it from a trustworthy source."

"Indeed! So much the more reason why she should not be out on the balcony alone with her handsome cousin. It is scandalous! Who would have thought of such things happening here at the President's! First this terrible Sorr story, and then such conduct on Adèle's part."

"But, my dear, we advised her to ask information of the Count."

"We?---- I beg pardon; I never should have advised any such thing; and if I remember rightly, you only mentioned that the Count could tell all about the matter if he would; you never hinted a word of advice. But of course Fräulein Adèle will blame you if her father scolds her for such behaviour, and very unseemly behaviour it is for a young girl to talk to a gentleman alone in a dark night upon a balcony."

"I myself do not think it exactly the thing, but there's no great harm in it. The balcony is as light as day from the lights in this room. You can see them both quite plainly. Look, Adèle is leaning against the iron balustrade, and the Count is standing at a respectful distance talking to her. He is telling her all about Herr von Sorr, it is plain to be seen; and at any rate, my dear, what affair is it of ours if Fräulein Adèle finds it convenient to talk more confidentially to her cousin on the balcony than she could here in the ballroom? She will know the particulars of the affair when she comes back, and we will make her tell us all about it."

While the elderly ladies in the ball-room were thus unfavourably discussing the interview on the balcony, Adèle was listening with painful interest to her cousin's story. She had long known of the evil reports circulated with regard to Sorr; they had been matter of discussion in the President's family circle, and her father had often declared that he could not ask to his house a man whose reputation was so bad. It was only in compliance with Adèle's entreaty that Sorr had been invited to this birthday ball, and this only when Heinrich, upon being consulted, had insisted that the silly stories concerning Sorr were false, that they were all inventions of Lieutenant von Arnim, who hated Sorr.

Adèle, too, had hitherto given little credit to what was said of Sorr; she knew that her friend led a very unhappy life with her husband, that his habits were extremely dissipated, and that he neglected his wife shamefully, but that he had ever been engaged in any dishonourable transaction she did not believe. Nevertheless, at times, when Lucie seemed oppressed with a sadness which no words of hers could relieve or lighten, doubts had occurred to her; doubts which, however, since Lucie never accused her husband, nor even alluded to him, the young girl had resolutely banished, defending Sorr against her father's suspicions, and treating all evil rumour concerning him as idle gossip.

Now she knew the truth; and her heart seemed to stand still as she learned that all that had been hitherto whispered of evil against Sorr was exceeded by the facts,--her Lucie's husband was a detected thief!

"My poor, poor Lucie!" she said, with infinite sadness, when Styrum had finished his narrative. "What will be done now? What does that dreadful Repuin mean to do?"

"I am not sufficiently familiar with the relations which have existed hitherto between Sorr and Count Repuin to answer that question," Styrum replied, "but I must confess that my first thought was that Repuin had brought about this catastrophe intentionally. I may do the Count injustice, for he acted as any man of honour would have done in his place. He could not suppress his knowledge of Sorr's theft, but he acquainted me with it with great tact, leaving it to me to spare the thief or to bring him to justice, and he acquiesced in my decision, that out of consideration for your father the fellow must be let alone. And no one can blame him for wishing to adjust without my assistance his own relations with Sorr, who has hitherto passed in society for his friend. He has only done his duty, and that in the most honourable manner. All this I admit, and yet I cannot help suspecting that he acted in accordance with a deep-laid scheme and in furtherance of his own evil designs. I can never forget the look the man cast upon Frau von Sorr when you took your friend's part so bravely, and the memory of it fills me with distrust of him. Therefore I had intended to tell you as soon as possible all that happened, and am especially grateful to you for this opportunity to do so, since you are in a position to judge whether any danger threatens your friend. She certainly must have told you much that will enable you to know this."

"Oh, if she only had!" said Adèle. "Unfortunately, it is not so. I love Lucie like a sister. When we were at school together she confided everything, even her very thoughts, to me: we had no secrets from each other; but I no longer possess her confidence. I know she loves me as well as ever, and if she could confide in any one, she would confide in me and let me share and soothe her sorrow. Therefore I cannot but hope for a return of the old intimacy. After her marriage I had not seen her for a long time, and our correspondence had flagged, when something more than a year ago she suddenly came here with her husband to live. Her first visit was to me, and I was indescribably happy to see her once more. She showed me all her old affection, but not her old confidence. I soon perceived that she was very unhappy,--she could not prevent my seeing that,--but to all my questions she returned evasive answers, and I only judged from common report that her marriage was an unhappy one, she has never spoken of it to me. And of her relations with Count Repuin I know only what my own observation has taught me. He has been for months Sorr's most intimate friend; they seemed inseparable. Sorr lives very quietly, he never gives large parties, but he frequently entertains a few friends, among whom, Heinrich has told me, Repuin is always to be found. He has paid assiduous court to my poor Lucie, never heeding the almost offensive coldness of her manner to him. I know how abhorrent his attentions are to her, although she has never mentioned him to me: I can read it in her eyes. This is all I know; you were a witness of the odious scene at supper to-night, it aroused in you the suspicion that troubles me also. My poor, dear Lucie! I am in despair at not knowing how to advise or assist her. I entreat you, dear Karl, to help me; my Lucie deserves to find faithful friends in her terrible misery. Tell me, what will happen,--what can we do?"

As she spoke, Adèle looked up at her cousin, her large, dark eyes glowing with entreaty and filled with tears. How beautiful her eyes were!--almost more beautiful now when their brilliancy was dimmed by those "kindly drops" than when sparkling with youthful gayety.

Count Styrum was wonderfully impressed,--Adèle's cordial confidence enchanted him. Frau von Sorr had already interested him; he was now resolved to do everything in his power to aid her in her misery. Adèle's friend could not be the accomplice of her unworthy husband.

But what could he do? He pondered this question in vain. "What will happen?" To this he could make no reply; he could not imagine what Repuin contemplated doing.

"You do not reply, Karl?" Adèle asked. "Will you not help me to protect my poor Lucie from that horrible Count Repuin, to stand by her in her misery?"

"With all my heart I will, my dear Adèle," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it so fervently that the girl withdrew it with a blush.

"I accept your promise," she said; "we are now allies, and I am convinced that you will be a help indeed. How we can aid my friend I do not yet know, but I am sure that in her great need she will accord me her full confidence, and appeal to me for help; then, Karl, I will summon you and remind you of your promise."

"And I will come. Ask of me what you will, you shall not ask in vain."

"I thank you from my soul; you inspire me with courage and hope. But look, cousin, there comes Repuin, followed by Sorr. Take me to Lucie quickly,--I cannot leave her alone!"

Repuin, as he entered the ball-room, looked around for Heinrich von Guntram. To reach him he was obliged to traverse the entire length of the room, and he waited several minutes to do this, since he did not wish to disturb the dancers. He paused in the doorway and let Sorr pass him, saying as he did so, "Good-night, my dear fellow," in a tone evidently intended to be heard by all about him. "I hope," he added, "that your terrible headache will be gone by tomorrow. Indeed, you ought to consult a physician. Pray give my regards to your wife."

He held out his hand to Sorr with a friendly nod, and then, turning to Assessor von Hahn, he forestalled the question which that worthy was about to address to him, by saying, "I am sorry for poor Sorr; he seems to me in a very bad way. See, Herr von Hahn, how pale he is! He only drank a couple of glasses of champagne, and they have given him a racking headache."

"Is his present ghastly appearance entirely the effect of champagne?" the Assessor asked, with a slight laugh.

"What else could it be? Do you think he can be seriously ill? I trust not."

"It seems, Count, that your great kindness of heart prompts you to endeavour to hush up this ugly story. I admire your amiability. I am naturally kind-hearted myself. I make no boast of it,--the gifts of nature are variously distributed; but it enables me to understand you, Count, and it makes it all the more painful for me to tell you that you never will succeed in crushing this scandal,--nothing else if talked of throughout the room. See how every one looks at Sorr, how his most intimate acquaintances avoid him, turning away as he passes them. Your kindness can avail that man nothing, Count; he is lost, branded, and he knows it; a guilty conscience speaks in every feature of his face."

Repuin had observed the same thing, and exulted to see the contempt with which Sorr was treated by those of his acquaintance whom he was obliged to pass in gaining his wife's side. What had taken place in Heinrich's room was already known here, then. The young officers had blabbed; they could not have told all, for they did not know all, but enough had been said to affect greatly Sorr's reputation.

This was just what he had intended, that Heinrich and his companions should suspect Sorr's guilt without being sure of it. He had hoped to find the ball-room filled with dark rumours, and his wishes were gratified. Sorr would now be convinced that it needed but a word from Repuin to annihilate him, and that his only hope for the future lay in implicit obedience to the Russian's commands.

He, however, feigned to be greatly amazed. "I do not understand you, Herr von Hahn," he said. "What ugly story is it that my discretion is to crush? Why should poor Sorr have a guilty conscience in addition to a bad headache? What has he done?"

"That you know best, Count."

"I am but a poor hand at guessing riddles, and must beg you not to propound them to me, but to tell me plainly what has happened. I must request an explanation in the interest of my friend Sorr."

The Assessor looked at the Count with a very puzzled air. He really did not know what to think. Arnim had given him a succinct account of what had taken place in Heinrich's study, and had added his opinion that "Sorr was now done for," since Repuin had doubtless detected him in cheating at the game. Arnim's trustworthiness was not to be questioned, but how did his story tally with the Count's behaviour? Surely Repuin would not call a detected cheat his friend?

The Assessor did not know what to believe; he was in a very disagreeable position. The only way out of it for him was to tell the Count what reports were current in the ballroom, and thus justify his over-hasty expressions.

"A most annoying misunderstanding," was the Russian's comment upon his communication. "I cannot, Herr von Hahn, explain the occurrence to you, since it concerns a private matter of Count Styrum's, to whom I have promised silence, but this rumour must be contradicted. Pray come with me, we will make use of this pause in the dance to seek out Herr Heinrich von Guntram, and I will explain matters as far as I may in his presence."

Repuin then walked directly across the room to Heinrich, the Assessor following him, joined by several of the gentlemen, who guessed Repuin's intention and were curious to know more of the scene in Heinrich's study. Thus the Russian was surrounded by quite an audience when he reached Heinrich, who was standing near the door of the balcony talking earnestly with Arnim and Herr von Saldern.

Heinrich replied but coldly to the Count's friendly address. He was very indignant that Repuin should have been the cause of so unpleasant a scandal beneath his father's roof upon this special evening; a scandal that had called forth a decided rebuke from the President with regard to the gaming in his son's apartment. He was also annoyed at the indiscretion that had given rise to such disagreeable rumours, and he visited this annoyance upon the Count, although he had but just entered the room and could not possibly have originated any of them.

Repuin took no notice of his cool reception. "I am sorry to disturb you, Herr von Guntram," he said, in a loud voice, "but I am forced to do so by a very unfortunate misunderstanding, which appears to be wide-spread. It concerns a conversation which took place between your cousin, Count Styrum, Herr von Sorr, and myself. May I beg you to ask Count Styrum to step here for one moment, that I may have his ratification of a declaration which I wish to make in your presence?"

Heinrich was surprised at the conciliatory tone adopted by the Russian, and he could not refuse to accede to his request. He beckoned to Count Styrum, who had returned from conducting Adèle to Frau von Sorr, and was standing near the balcony quietly surveying the assemblage.

"I have to my regret learned from Herr von Hahn." Repuin began when Count Styrum had drawn near, "that the aforesaid conversation between the Count, Herr von Sorr, and myself has given rise to various groundless reports, which I feel it my duty to contradict, in order that the serenity of this charming entertainment may not be disturbed by any silly gossip. I therefore declare, and beg all the gentlemen who hear me to take notice of what I say, that the conversation between Count Styrum, Herr von Sorr, and myself, which has given rise to all this talk, related solely to private personal matters, and ended, I trust, entirely to Count Styrum's satisfaction, so that we agreed to forget the whole affair, and not to speak of it again. I beg Count Styrum kindly to confirm this statement."

Styrum did not immediately reply. Could he confirm Repuin's words? They contained no falsehood, and yet they were calculated to deceive the hearers, who would infer from them that the question was of a personal disagreement, which, after a friendly adjustment, was to be forgotten. Did they not imply a justification of Sorr which Styrum neither could nor would ratify? What was Repuin's motive in thus gently treating the thief whom so short a time before he had seemed unwilling to allow to escape?

"May I ask for the confirmation of my words, Count?" Repuin asked again, on noticing Styrum's hesitation. "Have I not spoken truly?"

"What you have said is true," said Styrum, who could hesitate no longer, "but it might give rise to a further misunderstanding, which is under all circumstances to be avoided. I therefore add that there was no question of any quarrel."

"I did not mean to imply that there was, and state expressly that there was no talk of a quarrel between Count Styrum and Herr von Sorr. I believe this affair may now be considered as dismissed."

"Not quite, Count," Lieutenant von Arnim here interposed. "The affair has unfortunately acquired such publicity that it must be pursued a little farther. If you desire to re-establish as a man of honour Herr von Sorr, whom in the presence of many witnesses you treated as no gentleman should be treated by another, you must do it rather more formally. Your conduct towards Herr von Sorr exposed him to suspicions which nothing that either Count Styrum or you have said suffices to allay. I have no desire, Count, to meddle in your private affairs; I do not care to know what was the nature of the conversation to which you summoned Herr von Sorr after so unceremonious a fashion. I shall be quite content--so shall we all--if you and Count Styrum will simply declare 'We consider Herr von Sorr a man of honour.' Let me beg you to make this declaration, Count Styrum."

"I do not feel justified in making such a declaration," Styrum replied.

"Nor do I," Repuin added, "since I do not admit that any one has a right to demand of me a statement as to the honour of a gentleman."

"Your opinion is made sufficiently plain by your refusal," Arnim said, very gravely. Then, turning to Heinrich von Guntram, he added, "I think, Guntram, that you now owe it to yourself, to your family, and to all of us to require this Herr von Sorr to leave a society where there is no place for him."

"I protest against such a construction of my words!" exclaimed Repuin, with a dark glance at the lieutenant.

"No quarrelling, gentlemen, let me entreat," Heinrich von Guntram interposed. "We have had enough, and more than enough, annoyance for to-night. Have some regard for my father and my sister, Arnim, and recall your demand, compliance with which would only provoke a fresh scandal."

"There is no occasion for farther discussion," said Repuin. "Herr and Frau von Sorr are just leaving the room. I advised Sorr to go, he complained of a headache."

"A very prudent proceeding on Herr von Sorr's part," sneered Arnim. "He relieves our friend Guntram of a disagreeable duty. For the present the matter is settled. You must decide for yourself, Guntram, how to act in future with regard to this precious Herr von Sorr. Do not, gentlemen, allow this miserable affair to disturb our enjoyment any longer. The music is just beginning; let us at least have one more dance."

To this all were agreed, even Count Repuin, who was not sorry to be relieved from duty as Sorr's champion. Everything was taking the course he desired; his victim could no longer frequent this society; he was delivered over into the hands of his enemy.

Herr and Frau von Sorr had indeed left the ball-room before Arnim's last words. Their suburban dwelling was not far from the President's, it took scarcely a quarter of an hour to drive thither, but to Lucie the time appeared an eternity.

She leaned back among the cushions, whilst her husband looked out of the carriage window. Not a word did he address to his wife during the drive, nor did she once break the silence. She did not wish to question him to provoke an explanation, she would fain have avoided any such altogether. She knew nothing decided with regard to what had occurred at the President's. A few remarks, not intended for her ear, had hinted at a most disagreeable scene, in which her husband had been implicated, and in her anxiety she had applied to Adèle for information. Her friend, however, had no time to impart this, for scarcely had Count Styrum conducted her to Lucie when Sorr made his appearance, stating that he was not well, and that he wished to leave immediately, without any formal adieux.

A few words only Adèle had contrived to whisper into her friend's ear, few but significant. "Courage, dearest Lucie; remember, I am your devoted friend; trust me; whatever happens, I will stand by you."

What did these words mean? Lucie ran over in her mind the events of the evening, but found no explanation of them. Adèle could not know how insulting had been Count Repuin's presumption, or how sharply he had been reproved. But if she did not know, she perhaps suspected it, and therefore had her championship of her friend been so eager.

Had the Count perhaps had a quarrel with her husband? They had returned to the ball-room together, the Count with his head carried haughtily, Sorr, on the contrary, with an air that seemed to Lucie to express profound despair. Just so pale and downcast had he looked on the day when he told her that the last remnant of his property had been lost at the gaming-table, and that not his money only, but also his honour would be sacrificed if he could not quickly find means to pay his gambling debts. He threatened to put a bullet through his head if Lucie did not sign a power of attorney that placed her maternal inheritance, her whole fortune, at his disposal. He had promised then never to play again, and to alter his whole manner of life.

Lucie had long known that he had broken his word, that he had played away her property also, and she only called this scene to mind now because he had the same air of utter despair that had characterized him on this evening when he had followed Repuin into the ball-room.

What had happened? Should she ask him? No! Whither could such questions lead? He had long ceased to tell her the truth; and even were he to do so, she might well wish it untold. Even to guess at the dark ways by which he maintained his position in society was misery enough. Why should she wish to know the terrible truth? He must have been playing again; Repuin had probably lost, and some quarrel had ensued, which---- No, she would pursue such thoughts no further. She trembled to think that her husband might have revelations to make to her that would rob her of the last remnant of her peace of mind.

The carriage stopped; Sorr got out, and, without troubling himself about his wife, unlocked the door and entered the house. She followed him, and they ascended the stairs in silence. In the anteroom he lighted the two candles left in readiness for them. When they returned from an evening entertainment it was his custom, after lighting the candles, to retire to his room with a curt "good-night," but this he did not do. "I have something to say to you," he said, handing Lucie one of the candles. "I will go with you into the drawing-room."

She made no reply; her hand trembled as she took the light. She had a foreboding that a crisis in her destiny was at hand; that the communication which Sorr was about to make to her would be momentous both for her and for him.

He went first. In the drawing-room he placed the light upon the table, and then sank upon the sofa as if exhausted. He sat for a long time in silence, his head resting on his hand, his looks bent on the ground.

Lucie did not disturb him, but remained standing by the table in front of the sofa, silently watching him, marking the convulsive twitching of his lips, the terrible change in his countenance. She saw the struggle going on within him.

At last he seemed to have come to a determination. He looked up, but when he saw Lucie's dark eyes fixed searchingly upon him he instantly averted his own. He sprang up from the sofa and paced the room with hurried, irregular strides, pausing at last before his wife. He tried to look at her, but he could not meet her eye. It was inexpressibly difficult to speak the first word. He longed to have her question him, that he might reply, but Lucie was silent. He felt her keen glance watching his every movement, and at last he could endure it no longer.

This must end,--this terrible silence was not to be borne; he must break it by some word, no matter what. "I am ruined!" he said.

Castle Hohenwald: A Romance