The war which had been fatal to so many, and made others old before their time, in spite of the victories and triumphs won, appeared to have been a source of rejuvenation to him. Although the white hair and deep furrows in the face remained, witnesses not to be erased of a painful time, yet the face had life in it again; the eyes had regained their old fire, and one saw now at the first glance that the man was not so old, but stood yet in the fulness and power of life.
Hartmut had not yet entirely recovered, as his appearance proved. The campaign had not made him younger. He looked older and graver, and the still pale face, with the broad red scar upon the forehead, spoke of a time of heavy suffering.
The wound in itself had not been serious, but had become so through the severe loss of blood, and the overexertion of the ride in the night of the severe cold, so that at first all hope had been abandoned, and it required months of careful nursing to give Hartmut back to life.
But the old Hartmut, the son of Zalika, with his wild blood and unbridled desire for freedom, had also died in this time of suffering. It seemed as if with the name Rojanow, which he had cast forever from him, the unfortunate inheritance from the mother had also been lost. The heavy, dark curls were just beginning to grow again, and the high, powerful forehead appeared more striking in its resemblance to his father.
But the young wife at his side bloomed in the fullest beauty of youth and happiness. Whoever had seen her in her cold hauteur--her icy, unapproachable manner, would hardly have recognized her in this bright, slender woman, in her light summer costume, with fresh forest flowers in her hand.
The smile and tone with which she spoke to her husband and father had never been known to Frau von Wallmoden; they had been learned only by Adelaide von Falkenried.
"Not any farther, now," said the General, pausing in their walk. "You have to take the return walk, and Hartmut must still be careful. The physicians request that he be very prudent."
"Father, if you only knew how depressing it feels to be considered an invalid still, when I already feel full of life and power! I am really well."
"Do not place in jeopardy again what has been so hardly won," continued the father. "You have not yet learned patience, but fortunately I know you are under Ada's supervision, and she is strict on this subject."
"Yes, had it not been for Ada, there probably would not have been anything to take care of," said Hartmut, with a look of deepest affection upon his wife. "I believe I was in rather a hopeless condition when she came to me."