"The Privy Councillor von Ernau had risen, according to his wont, at eight in the morning, and, not at all according to his wont, had been desirous of breakfasting with his son, that he might consult him with regard to the arrangements for the celebration of his betrothal. He therefore sent to desire his son to come to him. The servant sent returned in a few minutes with Egon's man, who explained that his master had not returned home at all on the previous night, his bed was untouched, and upon his writing-table a letter had been found, addressed to his father, in his handwriting. This letter was handed to the Privy Councillor. He broke the seal, as he himself stated, with a trembling hand, but this last is doubtful. The letter contained only the words 'Farewell! E. von E.'
"'He has destroyed himself!' was the father's exclamation, as he hastened to Egon's rooms in company with the servant, and searched them through in hopes of finding some scrap of writing that might allay his apprehensions, but in vain. His first words seemed the only true explanation of his son's disappearance.
"Egon could not have left town for a journey, his servant had received no directions to prepare for a trip, and the young man's clothes were undisturbed, none were missing save those which he wore when last seen. A costly revolver, a favourite weapon of Egon's, was not to be found. Everything strengthened the Privy Councillor in the belief that his son had committed suicide. He had hitherto taken but a languid interest in his son, he had often indeed passed weeks without seeing him, although the same roof sheltered both; now the Privy Councillor suddenly assumed the part of a tender, agonized parent. He burst into loud lamentations over the terrible fate of his beloved son, he reproached himself for having driven him to put an end to himself. Nothing but despair at being forced to marry a girl whom he did not love could have driven Egon to such a horrible deed.
"These lamentations were publicly made, and by them Herr von Ernau attained a vast notoriety. He was quite given over to the rôle of tender, agonized parent. He played it before his servants at home and the clerks in his counting-room. In vain they all tried to soothe him, to represent that there was as yet no proof that his terrible suspicion was correct; in vain did his cashier declare that if Herr Egon had contemplated suicide he would not have drawn, as he had done the day before, twenty thousand marks from the bank. The Privy Councillor insisted that his son had shot himself, the drawing of the twenty thousand marks was an additional proof of the deed. Egon had wished to pay everything that he owed before his death, and had drawn the money for this purpose.
"Werner von Massenburg believed that the Councillor's loud lamentations were all dictated by his vanity, which was always urging him to seek notoriety at any price. At nine o'clock he had ordered his carriage and was driving about among all his intimate friends and acquaintances enacting the same scene over and over again, and declaring that the wretched proposed betrothal had driven Egon to despair. By noon the universal topic on 'Change was young Ernau's suicide and its cause, and the story flew like wildfire all through the town. An hour previously it had reached Werner, and he had hurried to the Councillor, with whom he had gone through a terrible scene. The Councillor, in his false, theatrical fashion, had cursed the unfortunate projected betrothal, and had heaped reproaches upon Werner, who, of course, was not slow in retaliating, until at last Ernau vowed angrily that if the faint hope that still existed should prove a certainty, and Egon be found to be alive, the hated betrothal should never take place.
"This was the sum of Werner's incoherent narrative. He cursed the Ernaus, father and son, and in his utter selfishness even found fault with Bertha for bringing him into this frightful difficulty by a too ready acquiescence in his plans. She must be completely compromised by the scandal, which was now known all over the town, and in a few days society would cast scorn upon the names of Massenburg and Ernau, and the wildest exaggerations of the story of Egon's suicide would be told everywhere.
"I tried to soothe Werner, but with small success. He left me at last with the task upon my hands of informing Bertha of what had occurred.
"This was unpleasant enough, but the girl made it as easy for me as possible. She listened to my account with great composure, only expressing her sorrow that her poor father should be disappointed in his dearest hopes. When my wife spoke indignantly of young Ernau, she shrugged her shoulders. 'I am sorry for him,' she said, in a tone expressive of quite as much scorn as pity; 'he is evidently one of those unfortunate men who, bred in the lap of luxury, have lost all force of character, all capacity to shape their destiny. He is certainly more to be pitied than blamed for shuffling off his life like a coward instead of opposing his father's schemes like a man.'
"I was glad that she so easily acquiesced in the inevitable, and I hoped that Werner's fear lest her reputation should suffer from what had occurred would prove groundless. To-day has, unfortunately, convinced me of the contrary.
"The scandal is full-blown. The whole story is talked of everywhere, and one of the morning papers tells it in detail, with all sorts of additions. It is hinted that Herr Egon von Ernau is the victim of a low money speculation on the part of a family of rank. Fräulein Bertha von Massenburg knew that he was in love with a girl of the middle class, but would not withdraw her pretensions because she did not choose to lose a wealthy parti. The young man had been led, by his love for his father, into giving his consent to the betrothal, in hopes that Fräulein von Massenburg would reject his hand when she learned that he loved another. Disappointed in this hope, he had recourse to his revolver.