He grasped the arms of his chair and made one or two efforts to rise, but could not do so.
“Anna!” he commanded, harshly, to his wife, “give me your arm. This officer will excuse me, I trust. I feel unwell.”
Franz von Kreuzenach went quickly over to his father, before his mother could rise.
“Father, I deeply regret having pained you. The truth is tragic enough——”
The old man answered him ferociously.
“You have not spoken truth, but lies. You are a disgrace to the rank of a German officer, and to my name. You have been infected by the poison of socialism and anarchy. Anna—your arm!”
Elsa’s mother stooped over her husband, and lifted his hand to her lips.
“Mein lieber Mann,” she said, very softly.
The old man rose stiffly, leaning on his wife’s arm, and bowed to Brand.