"She's the witch who has done my lieutenant this mischief!" George cried indignantly. "She has brewed some witches' potion, these savages know how, and now the misfortune has come--he is in love with her."
Father Leonhard rose in utter consternation.
"Impossible? Gerald von Steinach, that quiet, thoughtful man, with his rigid sense of duty, possessed by such an infatuation--it can't be! What put the idea into your head?"
The young soldier advanced a step nearer and lowered his voice, though they were entirely alone.
"I knew it in Cattaro, but I did not want to believe it. The evening before our departure the lieutenant went once more to the commandant's and I was permitted to go with him to bid the young lady good-bye. But we did not see her at all, not even Herr Gerald; instead of that his future father-in-law and he were alone together in a room for an hour. I was standing in the dark ante-chamber when they at last came out; the colonel didn't see me, and I heard his farewell words:
"'I will not wrong you, Gerald; I myself believe that the whole affair is merely a foolish fancy on the part of Edith, but what you say does not soothe me, for it shows that you are not perfectly clear in your own mind. We part now, and you are going to encounter serious things; you will have ample time to test yourself. You have given me your word of honor that you will not write to your promised wife until you can say to her with entire sincerity: I did not love Danira, my heart belongs solely to you. If you can do that your bride will not be lost, for I rely implicitly upon your honor, and so will Edith. Now, farewell, I hope you will write soon!'"
Father Leonhard had listened in extreme suspense to this literal repetition of the conversation, now he asked hastily:
"Well, and--?"
"Well, your reverence, Herr Gerald has not written."
"Really? Are you sure?"