"Mentioning that your son--has gone away?"
The General nodded.
"An hour ago--from this station--to Sundin?"
"To Sundin?" repeated the General. Strange that he had not guessed that at once! If Ottomar intended to live, his first thought must naturally be revenge upon that scoundrel--or was it rather the last thing that he wished to accomplish before his death? He might have left it to his father; but, still, here was a gleam of light in the terrible darkness--a spark from the heart of the son, who was not, after all, so entirely lost, into that of the father. "It was not mentioned in the note," said he. He had raised his head a little, and a feeble fire shone in his sad eyes; there was some look in him again of the iron soldier with whom Uncle Ernst had had that terrible passage-of-arms the other day.
"Not mentioned?" said Uncle Ernst; "but, good heavens----"
He broke off suddenly; his face darkened, and his voice sounded harsher, almost as it had done that morning, as he continued:
"Then in his brief note. Captain von Schönau probably did not mention the circumstance that Herr von Werben undertook the journey in question with my daughter!"
The General drew himself up at these words, like a man who was about sharply to resent an unexpected insult. The looks of the two men met; but while Uncle Ernst's eyes blazed more fiercely, the General's sought the ground, as, with a faint groan, he sank back in his chair.
"Miserable man!" he muttered to himself.
"You have to thank this circumstance--I mean the intervention of my daughter--that he is still alive," said Uncle Ernst.