"No, that has all gone by now. You do not know what my father did for me with his frightful words, what my life has been since then; but I will be silent, no one would understand. I thank you for your belief in me, Ada. My death will be easier."
"God help us! You dare not do it."
"What value has life for me?" said Hartmut with great excitement. "My mother has marked me with a brand as of seething iron, and that mark closes every door to atonement, to salvation. I am alone, condemned, thrust out from my own countrymen. Why, even the poorest peasant can fight; that right is denied only to the criminal without honor, and such I am in Egon's eyes. He fears that I would only join with my own countrymen to betray them, to—be a spy!" He put his hands over his face, and his last words died out in a groan. Then he felt a hand laid gently on his arm.
"The stigma lies in the name of Rojanow. Abandon that name, Hartmut. I bring you that for which you so ardently long—your admission to the army."
Hartmut gazed in unutterable astonishment at the speaker.
"Impossible! How could you?"
"Take these papers," said Adelheid, drawing out a long sealed envelope which she carried under her cloak. "You will answer the description of Joseph Tanner, twenty-nine years old, slender, dark complexion, dark hair and eyes. It's all right, you see; no one will question your right with these papers."
She handed him the envelope which she held with a convulsive grasp, as if it were a costly treasure.
"And these papers?" he asked doubting yet.
"Belonged to the dead! They were given me for one who will not use them now, for he died to-day; and I will be forgiven if I save the living by their use."