"No; to the Forester's. Farewell, Egon."
"Farewell."
They parted without a pressure of the hand, without a further word, and when the door closed behind him, Hartmut knew that he had lost the friend who had idolized him. Judged here, too--and cast out! He had to atone terribly for the old guilt.
CHAPTER L.
Over the Wald hung a dark, cloudy sky, which, from time to time, sent down showers of rain. Gray mists clung around the heights, and storms raged through the crowns of the trees. It was a regular autumn day in the middle of summer.
The mistress of Ostwalden was alone at her castle. She had received news from her brother that he had already left, and that the meeting planned between them could not take place. Therefore Adelaide had postponed her departure to be present at the marriage of Willibald and Marietta, which was quietly celebrated in the presence of the nearest relatives.
The young couple had left for Berlin, where Willibald was to join his regiment immediately. His young wife wished to remain near him the few days before the order came to march. From there she was to go to Burgsdorf, whither her mother-in-law had preceded her.
The morning hours had not yet passed when Prince Adelsberg drove up to the castle of Ostwalden. He had asked for leave of absence to-day to "arrange some important matters"; but the important matters did not carry him to Rodeck, but to Ostwalden. He came to say farewell to Adelaide, whom he had not seen since that first visit.
As his carriage entered the castle yard, they met the priest of the neighboring village with the holy sacrament, and attendant chorister. Apparently the last rites had been administered to one seriously ill. The Prince inquired to whom the sad visit had been paid, and learned that it was to one of the inspectors of the estate, and that the mistress of the castle was at present with the dying man; but the guest should be announced to her instantly.
Egon restlessly paced up and down the reception room, into which he had been shown. He had come here to obtain an assurance, without which he did not feel able to march into a campaign of life or death; and the uncertainty with which such a campaign was ever taken, must serve as apology for thus approaching a young widow still in deep mourning. It need not yet be a proposal. He wanted to take with him only a hope the promise of which had risen so brightly at their last meeting, when Adelaide had shown such warm interest in his sorrow about his absent friend. He did not dream that he had made a fatal mistake. Still, in spite of this, a deep shadow rested upon the face of the Prince, usually so cheerful. It was not the leave-taking which gave him pain, for he went to the battlefield with glowing enthusiasm and the happy faith of youth, which dreams only of victory, and rejects all dark prospects. Besides, he dreamed of another happiness in the future, which he wished to secure now.