“And you say all this to me, so quietly, so coldly?” cried Hartmut fairly beside himself now.  “This is a matter of life and death to me.  I saw my father for the first time in over ten years at Rodeck when he hurried to Wallmoden’s death bed.  He scourged me with contempt and fearful words.  That was what drove me from Germany and sent me roaming through foreign lands, for his words went with me and changed my life into hell.  I hailed the war cry as my release.  I would fight for the land I had once deserted.  But you, you, who alone can open the door, shut it in my face.  Egon, you turn from me; only one course is left!”

He turned with a movement of despair to the table on which the prince’s pistols lay, but the latter pulled him back in affright: 

“Hartmut!  Are you mad?”

Egon was pale too, now, and his voice trembled as he said: 

“I cannot let that happen, I will do my best to get you into some regiment!”

“At last I thank you!”

“I cannot promise anything, for I must keep it from the duke.  He leaves to-morrow for the seat of war.  If he learns later that you are in the army, the excitement of war may prevent him asking the why and wherefore.  But it will be several days before I can know anything definite.  Will you be my guest until then?”

The prince had recovered his self-possession, and spoke as usual to his old friend; but Hartmut understood the undertone in this question.

“No, I will not remain in the city; I will go to the forestry at Rodeck.  You can send me word there, and I’ll be in the city in a few hours.”

“As you please.  Will you not go to Rodeck castle?”

Hartmut give him a long, sorrowful glance.

“No, I will stay at the forestry.  Farewell, Egon.”

“Farewell!”

So they parted without one pressure of the hand, without one cordial word, these two who had been more than brothers, and as the door closed between them Hartmut knew that he had lost the dearest friend of his life.  Here, too, he had been judged and sentenced!  Surely his punishment was being meted out to him with no scant measure!

CHAPTER XV.

A dark, misty vapor enveloped the forest like a veil, and from time to time the rain fell in torrents.  The tree tops swayed in the wind, and the raw, wet atmosphere reminded one of November rather than of midsummer.

The mistress of Ostwalden was in her forest home and alone; she had received news from her brother telling her he would march at once, and as her journey to Berlin to see him would be futile, she had been persuaded to remain in the south until after Willibald’s marriage.  The marriage had been a very quiet, simple affair, and Marietta had accompanied her husband to Berlin, where he was to join his regiment, and when he marched, she was to go to Burgsdorf, where her mother-in-law was again established.