Part 18 (1/2)

Wallmoden looked after him with knitted brow, and then turned to his sister. ”Could you not have restrained yourself, Regine? Why make a scene? This Hartmut exists no more for us.”

Regine's face showed clearly her intense excitement, and her lips trembled as she answered:

”I am no such staid diplomat as you, Herbert. I have not yet learned to be calm and indifferent when one whom I have for years imagined dead, or gone to ruin, suddenly springs up before me.”

”Dead? He was too young to make that a probability. Gone to ruin? That is indeed possible, judging from his life lately.”

”What do you mean?” asked his sister excitedly. ”What do you know of his life?”

”I know something of it. Falkenried is too dear to me to make me lose sight altogether of his son. I have never mentioned what I knew to either of you. But as soon as I returned to my post, ten years ago, I used my diplomatic position to ascertain what I could concerning them.”

”And what did you learn?”

”At first, only what we already knew, that Zalika had taken her son to Roumania. You knew that her step-father, our cousin Wallmoden, had died some time before, and after her divorce from Falkenried she always lived with her mother. From that time we heard nothing of her until she came to Germany to capture her son, but just before she came, as I learned, she inherited a large fortune by the death of her brother.”

”Her brother? I never knew she had one.”

”Yes, he was ten years her senior, and on attaining his majority had become master of a large estate. His mother's second marriage was childless and he never married. When he met with a sudden death while hunting, Zalika, being next of kin, fell heir to his large possessions.

As soon as she entered into possession, she began at once to plan how she could get her son. You know that part of the story. Then they pa.s.sed a few years in a wild, erratic life upon her Roumania estate, and they fairly flung money away in their extravagance. After that they became bankrupt, and mother and son went out into the world like gypsies.”

Wallmoden told all this in the same cold, contemptuous tone as that in which he had spoken to Hartmut and in Regine's face, too, was a look of abhorrence for the wife and mother who had fulfilled so ill the duties of her station. But she could not restrain the anxiety she felt for the son, as she asked:

”And since then? Have you heard nothing further?”

”Yes, on several occasions. Once when I was with the emba.s.sy at Florence, I heard her name mentioned incidentally. She was at Rome; then a year after that she was back in Paris again; and sometime later I heard that Frau Zalika Rojanow was dead.”

”So she is dead,” said Regine, softly. ”How did they live all these years?”

Wallmoden shrugged his shoulders. ”How do all adventurers live? Perhaps they had saved something from the s.h.i.+pwreck, perhaps they hadn't. At any rate she was to be found in the saloons of Rome and Paris. A woman like Zalika could always find a.s.sistance and protection. As a Bojar's daughter she had her t.i.tle of n.o.bility, and even the forced sale of her Roumanian estate, about which many knew, may have aided her to play her _role_. Society opens its arms only too willingly to such as she, especially when they have talent, and that Zalika undoubtedly had. By what means she lived is another question.”

”But Hartmut, upon whom she forced such a life, what of him?”

”He's an adventurer. What else could you expect?” said the amba.s.sador in his curtest tone. ”He inherited her temperament, and his life with her has developed the dormant tendency. Since his mother's death, three years ago, I have heard nothing of him.”

”And why did you keep all this from me?” said Regine, reprovingly.

”I wanted to spare you all I could. You had always given the boy too warm a place in your heart, and I thought it better to let you imagine him dead. Have you ever told Falkenried any of your idle speculations concerning him?”

”Once I ventured to speak of the past to him. I hoped to break through the icy reserve which he always maintains towards me now. He looked at me, I will not soon forget his eyes, and said with fearful impressiveness: 'My son is dead. You know that, Regine. We will let the dead rest in peace.' I have never mentioned Hartmut's name since then.”

”I suppose I hardly need counsel you to be silent when we return home,”

continued her brother. ”On no account let Willibald hear of this meeting, for he's so good-natured that he'd be off at once if he heard his boyhood's friend was in the neighborhood. It's much better he should know nothing about it. If there should be a second meeting I will just ignore the fellow. Adelheid does not know him; in fact she doesn't even know that Falkenried had a son.”

He broke off suddenly and arose, for his young wife and her escort emerged at that moment from the tower door. The prince greeted the amba.s.sador and his sister, whom he had met a day or two before, and asked quite innocently whether they had seen his friend Rojanow, who had disappeared from the tower a few moments before.

Wallmoden threw a warning glance toward his sister, who stared at the prince in surprise, and answered promptly and politely that he had seen no gentleman, and added that he was just on the point of going in search of his wife, as it was quite time they should return home. The order to the groom was given at once, and a minute later the prince was bowing low to the fair woman and her husband, whom he had accompanied to the carriage. He stood a full minute looking after them when the carriage rolled away.

Hartmut stood at the window of the little public room looking at the trio in the carriage, also.