"I never rejoiced more to draw mine!" said Arno, whom the colonel's expressions had evidently pained. "In 1866 I fought with bitterness, a German against Germans, and I left the service with a savage hatred for Prussia smouldering within me; to-day it is forgotten in love of country, of the German fatherland, of which Prussia is now the representative, standing foremost in the conflict with the arch-enemy of German freedom, and as the defender of our German Rhine against French greed of territory. If my brother can have forgotten the duty he owes to his country, it is all the more incumbent upon me to do what I can to wash away all stain of treason from the Hohenwald name."
"That you will surely do, my dearest brother!" Celia cried, with glowing cheeks. "Your fidelity will atone for Werner's treachery, and our father will bless you for vindicating the honour of his name."
The colonel looked at them with a smile as he stroked his gray moustache, and said, "Aha, I see clearly that Steuber's long nose will soon forsake Castle Hohenwald! You have cause to be proud of your pretty daughter and your son, old friend; still, we will not judge Werner; let every man be true to his own convictions. I hear with pleasure, Herr von Hohenwald, that you wish to re-enter the army. I am at your service in this matter; nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to have so brave an officer in my regiment, and I will, if you authorize me to do so, apprise the king of this when I take him the news to-morrow of our fruitless errand to Castle Hohenwald."
This offer Arno gladly accepted, and it was thereupon agreed that he should accompany the colonel to Dresden that he might immediately join his regiment. All of the little party in the garden-room, in the interesting conversation that ensued, quite forgot the object of the colonel's visit, and were only reminded of it after a long hour by the entrance of Count Styrum with the Geheimrath.
While Arno was greeting his friend with cordial delight, Steuber set the colonel's mind entirely at rest by his report, and by the request that the dragoons might be sent back to A---- and himself relieved of all further duty, since no possible suspicion could attach to any of the present inmates of the castle.
A quarter of an hour later the obnoxious official took his departure, while the colonel and Styrum, upon the Freiherr's earnest invitation, remained in the castle a few hours longer, that Arno might conclude his preparations for leaving, and accompany them to A----, there to take the night train to Dresden.
The time for parting came. The colonel and Styrum took leave of the old Baron and went down into the court-yard, where the carriage was in waiting. Arno was left alone for a moment with his father and sister. The old man was deeply moved. It evidently caused him an effort to release his son's hand from the firm clasp in which he held it, while a tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek upon his silver beard. "Farewell, Arno! farewell, my dear son, pride and delight of my age," he said, drawing his son gently down to him and, for the first time since that son had grown to manhood, pressing his lips to his brow. "Farewell, Arno!" he repeated. "Make me one promise before you go. If, when you return, I am no longer here, be a father to my Celia. I place her happiness in your hands. You must not sacrifice it to an hereditary prejudice, but make good a promise I gave our Anna, and if you ever meet Kurt von Poseneck in the war forget the family feud, and treat him kindly. For Celia's sake look upon him as a brother, for I have promised our Anna that when he comes back he shall be Celia's husband."
Celia threw her arms around her father's neck and burst into tears, but the old man gently put her away from him, and, paying no heed to Arno's look of startled inquiry, lay back in his chair. "Go, children!" he said, in a feeble voice. "You must leave me. This parting is almost more than I can bear. Celia, go with Arno to the carriage. Farewell, my dearest son! Your father's blessing be upon you in the coming struggle for the fatherland!"
CHAPTER XXI.
Months had passed since the beginning of the war; the German hosts had overrun France, and were girdling Paris with an iron ring, making its surrender but a question of time, while upon the ruins of the empire that had crumbled to decay at Sedan the young republic had been born to pursue with the energy of despair the strife that had been bequeathed to it by imperial policy.