Leo did so. While the colonel walked up and down the room, muttering curses, not loud, but deep, upon the 'd----d democratic nonsense,' Leo wrote his resignation, and handed it to his superior officer.
The colonel read the paper through. "It is all in order," he said, "and shall be attended to. There is nothing else to be done now; but confound that scoundrel Bertram! and deuce take me if I don't find some way to reward him for his share in this business! I believe the dog knew your craze about duelling. Did you ever mention your cursed democratic ideas in his presence?"
"Of course he knows what my opinions are: we used to be friends."
"I thought so. The confounded coward could play the hero cheaply; but I've not done with him yet. He shall find it no joke to have driven my best officer from the service. But that will not bring you back again. I see well enough that with your principles you had better resign. And you had best leave K---- as soon as possible. Take a journey to get out of the way of all the gossip and fuss there will be. I'll give you a leave upon my own responsibility,--and goodbye. I can't help loving you, my dear fellow, though you are such a d----d democrat; and if ever you need a true friend, remember Oswald von Herwarth, who never will forget you at Gravelotte."
The old officer cleared his throat violently, and indignantly winked away a suspicious moisture from his eyes; then, pulling his cap low over his forehead, he stamped down-stairs without one more word of farewell.
Scarcely was Leo alone than he took up the picture which he had leaned against the wall, replaced it upon the easel, stepped backwards from it, and regarded it sadly. "So you send me out into the world!" he murmured. "It is your revenge upon me for my cowardly words of you in your absence; for it was cowardly so to do violence to myself. Your punishment is hard, but just. Now that I dare once more to gaze into the depths of those dark, girlish eyes, why are they not scornful and angry, but sad and dreamy?"
He stood for a while so lost in thoughts of the few moments he had spent in Eva's presence, and in contemplation of the picture, that he did not hear the door behind him open.
An aged officer, leaning heavily upon a stout bamboo cane, entered the room, and, standing still, gloomily surveyed the young man lost in revery before the picture; then as he glanced at a mirror hanging on the wall opposite the door, he saw reflected in its depths his own image and his son's. He was startled; the astonishing likeness between them, which he had never before admitted, struck him forcibly and painfully at the moment.
"So like, and yet so different!" the old man thought, "Yes, he is my son. I could not disown him if I would. My only son,--so like me,--and that he should disgrace our name,--'tis maddening!"
He stood for a moment silently watching his son, and then struck the floor violently with his bamboo cane. "Halloo, Herr Leo von Heydeck!" he cried. "Colonel von Heydeck requests the honour of a few words with you!"