"And--Oswald?"
"I thought he had written to you?"
"Yes, but nothing about his plans for the future."
"Nor do I know anything about them. We have not exchanged three words with each other. I only know that he has been staying with Doctor Braun in town, to await what would come of the duel. I am glad he has chosen so well. His new friend, Braun, seems to be a man of as much character and cleverness as of goodness of heart. God grant that he may be a wiser Mentor for our Telemachus than I have been able to be, with the best will in the world. But now I must go, Melitta. Else my Almansor will beat his hoofs to powder. Have you anything more to do here?"
"No," said Melitta, "we can go."
"Will you often come to this place?"
"Hardly. I only wished to see if my orders had been attended to. You know, best of all, that the deceased, whom I came to see, has not been alive for me for long years, and, properly speaking, never."
"Then let us go, Melitta."
The baron took the arm of the young widow, and led her down the avenue. They did not say another word. Old Baumann opened the door of the carriage. Oldenburg helped Melitta in and stood a moment, hat in hand, by the open carriage. When the horses were about to start, Melitta gave him her hand; he pressed it to his lips. He remained motionless for a few moments, and looked after the carriage as it rolled away. Then he beckoned to his groom, mounted Almansor, and rode off at full speed in the opposite direction.
Two men had been watching this last scene, who had come into the graveyard at the very moment when Melitta and Oldenburg left through the gate opposite. They had placed a couple of wreaths on a new grave near the gate, on the side of the nobles. They were Oswald and Doctor Braun; both in travelling costume. They stood, arm in arm, on the steps of the church, and thus witnessed the parting scene between Oldenburg and Melitta. When the baron kissed Melitta's hand, an ironical smile passed over Oswald's pale, sunken face.