ROSE HARTMANN, COUNTESS VON WALDBERG.
Suddenly a terrible suspicion flashed through his mind. He remembered Frederick's urgent appeal for money on the previous day. But no! The idea was too horrible. It was impossible. The boy was certainly a thorough scapegrace, but not that! No, not that! The unhappy father dashed the letter down on the table and began pacing up and down the room in an agony of incertitude and doubt. Could his son be guilty? The solution of the mystery was contained in that envelope. Would he be justified in opening it? The whole honor of the ancient house of Waldberg was at stake. It was absolutely necessary that he, as its chief, should know whether or not one of the principal members thereof was a common thief. If so it was his duty to mercilessly lop off the rotten branch of the family tree. After long hesitation he finally seized the letter, and with one wrench tore open the envelope. As he did so an exclamation of horror and disgust escaped his blanched lips, for several Prussian bank-notes of considerable value, which he immediately recognized as his property, fell at his feet on the carpet.
It is impossible to describe the intense misery of the wretched father when he found that the thief who was being tracked by the Neapolitan police was no other than his first-born. For several hours he sat at his writing-table, his gray head bowed in grief and almost prostrated by this awful discovery. For a long time he was totally unable to decide what was to be done, and, indeed, had Frederick presented himself before him at that time he would have been almost capable of killing him with his own hand in his paroxysm of anger and shame.
Shortly after darkness had set in, Franz entered Frederick's room and handed him a sealed letter addressed in his father's hand. Glancing at its contents the young man uttered a cry of despair and terror, and springing to his feet was rushing toward the door, when Franz quietly placed himself with his back against it, saying:
“His excellency's orders are that the Herr Graf must not leave this room under any pretext until the hour of departure. I have his strict commands to remain with the Herr Graf and to prevent him from communicating with anybody in the house.
The old soldier's lips quivered as he spoke, and his eyes were full of tears. For it cut him to the very heart to see the suffering depicted on the lad's face, and what between his loyalty and devotion to his master and his affection for the young man whom he had carried about in his arms as a child, he was in great distress.
Frederick groaned, and picking up his father's letter read it over once more. It ran as follows:
“You have betrayed and robbed me! You are not only a deserter, but also a thief. I intercepted your letter to the woman you call your wife, and feeling myself justified under the circumstances to open it I found therein the proofs of your crime. You will leave my house to-night forever. The proceeds of your robbery will keep you for some time from want. It will be all that you will have to depend on, for having become an outlaw by your desertion, and your attack on your colonel, the Prussian Government will never permit you to enter into possession of your mother's fortune. You never need hope to see me again, or to hold any further communication with me or mine. You are no longer a child of mine. I solemnly renounce you as my son. May God Almighty keep you from further crime.
“Count H. von Waldberg.”