Part 49 (1/2)
”It was no accident. I was at the Rodeck forestry and heard that you had been gone several hours; a terrible suspicion took possession of me and drove me to follow you. I was almost certain I should find you here.”
”You were seeking me? Me, Ada?” His voice trembled with emotion as he asked the question. ”How did you learn that I was at the forestry?”
”Through Prince Adelsberg, who was with me to-day. You received a letter from him this morning?”
”No, only some intelligence,” responded Hartmut, with drawn lips. ”The few short lines contained no word directed personally to me, only business, only a communication which the prince thought necessary to make--I understood it!”
Adelheid was silent; she had felt sure that those few lines would be as death to him. Slowly she stepped toward him in the shadow of a great tree, the wind blew so fiercely that it was a necessity to have such protection as the trees could afford; Hartmut did not seem to notice its increasing fury.
”I see that you know what those few lines contained,” he began again, ”but it was not new to you. You heard it all at Rodeck. Ada, when I saw you standing in the s.h.i.+mmering, ghostly light on that frightful night, and knew that you had seen me trampled in the dust--even my own father, who loathes me, would have been satisfied with my punishment.”
”You do him injustice,” said Frau von Wallmoden, earnestly. ”You saw him only when he was thrusting you from him with such iron relentlessness. I saw him afterwards when you had disappeared. He broke into the wildest anguish and I caught a glimpse of the father's heart which loved his son above all else on earth. Have you made no effort since then to convince him?”
”No, he would believe me as little as did Egon. He who has once broken his word destroys all belief in himself, no matter though he afterwards give his life in defense of truth. Had I met my death upon the battle-field, perhaps his eyes and Egon's would have been opened. Now when I fall by my own hand, the few who know my life will say, 'it was his guilt which drove him to despair, and forced him to commit the deed.'”
”No,” said Adelheid softly, ”one would not say it. I believe in you Hartmut, despite everything.”
He looked at her, and through the gray hopelessness of despair a gleam of the old light shone forth.
”You, Ada? And you tell me this on the very spot where you condemned me?
At that time, too, you knew nothing--”
”That was why I had a horror of the man to whom nothing was holy, who knew no law but his own pa.s.sions; but when I saw you pleading at your father's feet, I felt fate rather than guilt had led you astray. Since then I have known that you could not throw aside that unfortunate heritage of your mother. Rouse yourself, Hartmut! The way which I showed you then is yet open. Whether it leads to life or death--it leads onward and upward.”
Hartmut shook his head darkly!
”No, that has all gone by now. You do not know what my father did for me with his frightful words, what my life has been since then; but I will be silent, no one would understand. I thank you for your belief in me, Ada. My death will be easier.”
”G.o.d help us! You dare not do it.”
”What value has life for me?” said Hartmut with great excitement. ”My mother has marked me with a brand as of seething iron, and that mark closes every door to atonement, to salvation. I am alone, condemned, thrust out from my own countrymen. Why, even the poorest peasant can fight; that right is denied only to the criminal without honor, and such I am in Egon's eyes. He fears that I would only join with my own countrymen to betray them, to--be a spy!” He put his hands over his face, and his last words died out in a groan. Then he felt a hand laid gently on his arm.
”The stigma lies in the name of Rojanow. Abandon that name, Hartmut. I bring you that for which you so ardently long--your admission to the army.”
Hartmut gazed in unutterable astonishment at the speaker.
”Impossible! How could you?”
”Take these papers,” said Adelheid, drawing out a long sealed envelope which she carried under her cloak. ”You will answer the description of Joseph Tanner, twenty-nine years old, slender, dark complexion, dark hair and eyes. It's all right, you see; no one will question your right with these papers.”
She handed him the envelope which she held with a convulsive grasp, as if it were a costly treasure.
”And these papers?” he asked doubting yet.
”Belonged to the dead! They were given me for one who will not use them now, for he died to-day; and I will be forgiven if I save the living by their use.”
Hartmut tore open the envelope, the wind nearly blew the papers from his hand, so that it was with difficulty he could master their contents, while the baroness continued:
”Joseph Tanner had a small office at Ostwalden. This morning he had an unusually severe hemorrhage and died an hour after. Poor fellow, he had only time to leave a message with me for his old mother. I shall send her everything belonging to him, except these papers, which I, myself, obtained for him, and these I have kept for you. We rob no one; they would be of no use whatever to the mother. A severe judge might question my right, but I take all responsibility. G.o.d and my fatherland will forgive me.”