‘And you are going to Sigmundskron to see her—to tell her—’
‘That it is all over.’ Greif completed the sentence.
Rex rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, staring at the fire. He knew what Greif meant without any further explanation, and he realised how much more his cousin would stand in need of comfort than before. But his active and far-sighted intelligence did not accept the necessity of breaking off the marriage. He approved of Greif’s wish to do so, and admired his courage, but at the same time he saw the utter desolation and gloominess of the life in store for him if he persisted in his intention. He held his peace, however.
‘You see that I could not do otherwise,’ Greif said at last. Still Rex answered nothing, and stared persistently into the flames, though his cousin was looking at him.
‘Would you,’ continued Greif, ‘if you were in my place, have the courage to offer such a name as mine to an innocent girl?’
‘You are as innocent as she,’ observed Rex.
‘Personally, but that is not the question. Would you bring her here to live in this house, to be a part of all the evil that has befallen me and mine?’
‘You can live where you please,’ said Rex philosophically.
‘And besides, by a very simple process of law you can call yourself by another name. Do away with the name and live in another place, and you are simply Greif and she is simply Hilda. There could be no question of doing her an injury. Names are foolish distinctions at best, and when there is anything wrong with them it is foolish not to get rid of them at once. Do you think that I would not marry as plain Herr Rex, though I am in reality the high and well-born Horst von Rieseneck? I have but to make application for a legal change, pay the costs and the thing is done.’
‘Outwardly, it is true. But the fact would remain. You are Rieseneck and I am Greifenstein, for all our lives, and our children will be Riesenecks and Greifensteins after us, if we marry. I would not lay such a curse upon any woman, much less upon one I love.’