Hartmut passed his hand across his brow, as if to wipe something away from there. Then he replied, heavily and huskily:
"Salvation--or death."
"You return as you went--a puzzle," said Egon, shaking his head. "You have hitherto refused every explanation. Can I not now learn your secret?"
"Obtain me an entrance into your army, and I will tell you everything," Rojanow cried in feverish excitement. "No matter under what conditions, only see that it is granted me. But do not speak to the Duke nor to a general, but turn to one of the lower commanders. Your name, your relationship with the reigning house makes your word powerful. They will not answer Prince Adelsberg with a 'No' when he himself speaks for a volunteer."
"But the same question will be put to him as to you--you, a Roumanian."
"No, no," cried Hartmut, passionately. "If I must confess it to you--I am a German."
The effect of this disclosure was not as great as Hartmut might have feared. The Prince looked at him for a moment, amazed.
"I have thought so at times, for the one who could compose an Arivana in the German language did not get this language by education, but had grown up with it. But you bear the name Rojanow----"
"The name of my mother, who belonged to a Roumanian--Bojar's family. My name is--Hartmut von Falkenried."
His own name sounded strange in his ears, for he had not pronounced it for years; but Egon grew attentive at the name.