"No," Egon replied, "I did not think of that. I have not yet decided what to do, and I must pray you to keep my secret, and inform no one that you have seen me."
"I shall do no such thing!" Freistetten exclaimed, indignantly. "That would be to make myself an accomplice in what offends my sense of right. Indeed, Ernau, you must return to Berlin; it would be unpardonable to allow your father to believe any longer that he has lost his only son. I know that your relations with him were never very cordial, but he is your father, and you owe him a son's duty. If you refuse to return to Berlin, I shall cut short my mountain excursion and go there myself to tell your father that his son is alive."
Freistetten had arisen, and now signed to his guide that he was ready to go on.
"Decide, Ernau," he said, gravely; "your decision will govern mine."
Egon had hoped for some chance that should force him to a resolution; his wish was fulfilled; his hesitation between Castle Osternau and Berlin was at an end. He was not angry with Freistetten for his severe, almost insulting, words: he was justified in using them.
"I thank you, Freistetten," he said, likewise rising. "Your admonition is harsh, but I will lay it to heart. Continue your tour; I promise you to go directly to Berlin from Hirschberg. Since I am, half unwillingly I admit, forced to take upon me the old yoke, I will do so without delay. Farewell!"
The young men separated with a warm grasp of the hand, and Egon walked on down into the Hirschberg valley. With a heavy heart he went his way back to the old life. Now that he was resolved not to return to Castle Osternau, existence there appeared to him in the rosiest light; he longed for each one of those of its inmates who had grown dear to him; he could not bear the thought of parting from them without one word of farewell, one prayer for pardon for having deceived them.
Lieschen's image accompanied him on his way; it seemed to beckon him on. He felt an intense desire to hasten to Castle Osternau, if only for a day, an hour, that she might decide whether he should remain there, or return to Berlin.
He lodged for the night in a little inn seldom visited by strangers. He could not sleep when he first retired to his room; the effort to abide by his resolve chased sleep from his eyelids. At last he sat down and wrote two farewell letters, one to Herr von Osternau, the other to Herr Storting. In the latter he enclosed the payment of the little debt for which Storting had so readily gone surety in Breslau. Both letters he posted the next morning before starting for Berlin, thus destroying all possibility of a return to Castle Osternau. He then grew calmer; the struggle was over, he hesitated no longer.