He waked in the early morning refreshed and invigorated mentally and physically. The weather was glorious, and most propitious for mountain travel on foot; Egon felt awaken within him an old longing for some days alone with nature in her grand, careless mood. It was long since he had felt so fresh and strong, and as he walked upwards among the odorous pines he calmly reflected upon his life at Castle Osternau. Could he return thither? He was able now to ponder the question quietly. His position there was uncertain; Pastor Widman's letter had raised doubts in Herr von Osternau's mind which an accident might reawaken, he might naturally make investigations as to his tutor's past, and then? The inevitable consequence would be the ruin of the false structure erected, as Egon was forced with shame to confess, upon falsehood. The unmasked impostor would be thrust in disgrace from the castle, despised by those whom he held so dear.
No, he could not expose himself to such a peril; if he returned he must confess the whole truth to Herr von Osternau. But could he do this? There rang in his ears all the words of disapproval and condemnation uttered by almost every member of the Osternau circle with regard to Herr von Ernau. Lieschen had called him a wretched, detestable man, and her father and mother had openly expressed their contempt for him. Should he say to them, "I am that Egon von Ernau whom you so despise!" Could he defend himself against the accusations brought against him? He had tried once to do so to Lieschen, and how incredulously she had shaken her lovely head! with what surprise, nay, dismay, she had looked at him! Had not his former life justified all that was said of him? Had he not given additional reason for it by carrying on a deception for weeks, living under an assumed name among those who had trusted him?
In imagination he saw Lieschen turning from him indignantly, as she exclaimed, "There is nothing I detest as I do falsehood!" He heard the Lieutenant's scornful laughter. And Bertha! Should she too witness his humiliation?
No; he could not return and run the risk of being discovered, nor could he confess his deceit. Both were alike impossible.
But if he did not return to the castle, what was he to do? Go back to Berlin! And why not? Formerly the thought of falling in with his father's plans had filled him with disgust; now his heart beat quicker at the thought of calling Bertha von Massenburg his wife.
And yet he hesitated and could come to no decision. Always in the midst of the intoxication of the senses that accompanied the remembrance of Bertha, a lovely girlish image would rise before his mental vision to calm and soothe him, and no sacrifice seemed to him too great to purchase a gentle word of pardon from Lieschen, one look of love from her eyes.
He could not decide. For three days he wandered about the mountains, pursuing those paths least frequented by tourists, and lodging at night in some lonely, retired little inn, determined to avoid any chance encounter with acquaintances. But on the fourth day of his wanderings he was slowly descending the agate rocks towards Hermsdorf, lost in thought, his eyes bent upon the ground, when he was roused from his revery by a clear, merry voice: "All good spirits praise the Lord! Positively this is a capital joke! Day before yesterday we buried you, Herr von Ernau, and to-day I meet you, sound in body and limb, upon this far from delightful ascent!"
Egon looked up startled. Before him stood an old acquaintance from Berlin,--Baron von Freistetten, a wealthy young nobleman, whom he had often met in society, and whom he had liked rather better than most of his associates, since in the preference shown him by the young fellow there could be no suspicion of interested motives.
Freistetten was in the act of making the ascent of the agate rocks, in company with a guide, and had paused for a moment to take breath, when he perceived Egon coming down towards him and instantly hailed him. All fatigue was forgotten; he hurried to meet him, and shook him cordially by the hand. "Upon my word, Ernau," he said, "this is the greatest pleasure I have had for years! I never believed you were dead, for did I not see you a month ago in Breslau? But when everybody insisted that your body had been found, and when I followed it to the grave, the day before yesterday, I thought I had been mistaken, and sincerely mourned you. Thank God! I was right at first. I am indeed delighted."
The young fellow's joy was so sincere that Egon could not but reciprocate his cordiality. Disagreeably surprised as he was at first at the encounter, several of the Baron's expressions had aroused his curiosity, and he agreed readily to the young man's proposal that they should find some shady spot for a half-hour's talk.