The Sign Of Flame Part 14

This forest loneliness had, however, something fascinating in it. It was touched by the first slight breath of autumn; that touch which has not yet brought withering and death, but has only steeped the landscape in richer coloring. Here and there brilliant red and gold flashed through the bushes, but the forest itself still rested fresh and aromatic in its green dusk.

Beneath the crowns of the century-old trees bending gracefully toward each other, deep, cool shadows glided, and in the openings golden sunshine lay glistening on the flowers which bloomed here in the light.

Occasionally in the distance the bright mirror of a small pond glittered, resting lonely, as if lost in the midst of the deep forest.

Through the profound quiet all around could be heard the low rustling of the mighty trees and the humming and singing of thousands of insects that seemed to float upon the rays of the sun: all of those mysterious voices which are heard only in solitude--the sweet, dreamy language of the forest. It lured and coaxed irresistibly with its green depths, which stretched endlessly, always further and further, as if it wished to keep forever within its charm the two now walking through it.

But suddenly quite an unexpected obstacle appeared before them. Dashing and roaring from the thickly grown heights, a broad forest brook made a way for itself with merry haste through bushes and rocks.

Rojanow paused in his walk and took in the situation with a quick glance, but as nowhere could a ford or bridge be discovered, he turned to his companion.

"I fear we are in trouble; the brook seems to put an end to our path.

It is usually easy to cross on the moss-covered stones at the bottom, with some care, but yesterday's rain has covered them completely."

The young lady was looking anxiously for some crossing place. "Would it not be possible further down?" she asked, pointing down the stream.

"No, for the water is deeper and more rapid there. We must cross here at this place. Of course, you cannot go through the water. You will permit me, Fraulein, to carry you over?"

The offer was made with perfect courtesy and reserve, but Rojanow's eyes flashed triumphantly. Chance was avenging him now on the unapproachable one, who would not suffer his a.s.sistance even in the disengaging of her veil from a thorn bush. She had now to entrust herself unconditionally to his help, there was no choice but to allow herself to be carried in his arms to the other bank.

He drew near as if the permission sought had been granted, but she recoiled.

"I thank you, Herr Rojanow."

Hartmut smiled with an irony which he took no pains to conceal. He was master of the situation now and intended to remain so.

"Do you desire to turn back?" he asked. "More than an hour would be lost, whereas if we cross here the other side will be reached in a few moments. You can trust yourself to my arms without fear--the crossing will be quite without danger."

"I think so, too," was the calm reply, "and therefore I shall try it alone."

"Alone? That is impossible, Fraulein!"

"Impossible to walk through a forest brook? I do not consider that a particularly heroic deed."

"But the water is deeper than you think. You will get a thorough wetting, and besides--it is really impossible."

"I am not effeminate in the least and do not catch cold easily. Be so kind as to go first. I will follow."

That was plain enough, and sounded so commanding that remonstrance was not possible. Hartmut bowed a silent a.s.sent and waded through the water, which could do no damage to his high hunting boots.

It was indeed, rather deep and violent, so that he had to be careful in getting a firm foothold upon the stones. A slight smile played around his lips as he stood on the other bank and awaited his companion, who had refused his protection so haughtily. Let her try coming alone; the water would frighten her; she would not be able to battle with it, and would be compelled to call him to help her in spite of her reluctance.

She had followed him without hesitation. With her delicate, thin boots offering no resistance whatever, she already stood in the water, which was cold, but she seemed scarcely to feel it. Catching up her dress with both hands, she advanced carefully and slowly, but quite surely, to the middle of the brook.

But here in the midst of the dashing, foaming flood, it required the firm step of a man to hold its own. The slender, soft foot of the lady searched in vain for a hold upon the slippery stones. The high heels of the dainty boots were as much of a detriment as the dress, the hem of which was caught by the waves.

The courageous pedestrian apparently lost the confidence hitherto displayed. She slipped several times and finally stood still. A questioning glance flew over to the bank where Rojanow stood, firmly decided not to lift his hand to help her until she asked for it.

She may have read this resolution in his eyes, and it seemed to give her back instantly her failing strength. She stood immovable a moment, but the determined expression in her features was in full play.

Suddenly she slipped from the flooded stones into water a foot deep, where she now, indeed, gained terra firma directly on the bottom of the brook, and could walk unmolested to the other bank. She grasped a branch of a tree, instead of Hartmut's offered hand, and by its aid swung herself to dry land.

Naturally she was very wet. The water ran from her dress, which she had released from her grasp without consideration, but with perfect unconcern she turned to her escort and said: "Shall we continue on our way? It cannot be very far to Furstenstein."

Hartmut did not return a syllable, but something like hatred sprang up within him for this woman, who would rather slip into the cold flood than trust herself to his arms. The proud, spoiled man whose brilliant traits had heretofore won all hearts, felt so much more keenly the humiliation which was forced upon him here. He almost cursed the whole encounter.

They walked on. From time to time Rojanow threw a glance upon the heavy, wet hem of the dress which trailed on the ground beside him, but otherwise he bestowed his whole attention upon the surroundings, which seemed to get lighter. This forest thickness must end some time!

His supposition was correct. He had been successful in his leadership, for the path taken at random proved the right one. In about ten minutes they stood upon a slight elevation which offered a free outlook. Over yonder, above an ocean of treetops, rose the towers of Furstenstein, while a broad road, which could be plainly seen, wound to the foot of the castle mount.

"There is Furstenstein," said Hartmut, turning for the first time to his companion, "although it will be about half an hour's walk from here."

"That is of no consequence," she interrupted him quickly. "I am very grateful to you for your guidance, but I cannot now miss the road, and I should not like to trouble you further."

"As you wish, gracious Fraulein," Rojanow said, coldly. "If you desire to dismiss your guide here he will not force himself upon you."

The reproach was understood. The young lady herself might feel that a man who had guided her through the forest for hours might well deserve a different dismissal, even if she found it necessary to keep him at a distance.

"I have already detained you too long," she said graciously, "and since you have introduced yourself, Herr Rojanow, let me give you my name also before we part--Adelaide von Wallmoden."

Hartmut started slightly and a burning blush covered his face as he repeated slowly, "Wallmoden!"

"Is the name familiar to you?"

"I believe I have heard it before, but it was in--in North Germany."

"Most probably, for that is my husband's home."

Unmistakable surprise was depicted in Rojanow's face as the supposed young girl announced herself a married woman, but he bowed politely.

"Then I beg your pardon, gracious lady, for the wrong address. I could not antic.i.p.ate that you were married. In any case, I have not the honor of knowing your husband even by name, for the gentleman who was then known to me was already advanced in years. He belonged to the diplomatic corps, and his name was, if I am not mistaken, Herbert von Wallmoden."

"Quite right; my husband is at present Amba.s.sador at the court of this country. But he will be anxious about my long stay. I must not tarry longer. Once again, my thanks, Herr Rojanow."

She bowed slightly and took the descending road. Hartmut stood motionless, looking after her, but an ashy paleness was on his face.

So--he had hardly set foot upon German soil before there met him a name and connection with old times which was at least painfully disagreeable to him.

Herbert von Wallmoden, brother of Frau von Eschenhagen, guardian of Willibald, and friend of----

Rojanow suddenly broke off in his thoughts, for a sharp, painful stab sank into his breast.

As if to throw something from him he straightened himself, and again the harsh, offensive sarcasm trembled around his lips, over which he had such masterly command.

"Uncle Wallmoden has made a fine career at least," he murmured, "and seems to have had good luck besides. His hair must have been gray a long time, and yet with it he conquers a young, beautiful girl. Of course an amba.s.sador is always a good match, hence the cool, aristocratic manner which does not consider it worth the while to bend to other mortals. Probably the diplomatic school of the husband has educated his chosen one especially for this position. Well, he has succeeded admirably."

His eyes still followed the young wife, who had already reached the foot of the hill, but now a deep furrow appeared in his brow.

"If I should meet Wallmoden here--and it can scarcely be avoided--he will recognize me beyond a doubt. If he then tells her the truth--if she learns what has happened--and looks at me again with that look of contempt----" In wild, out-breaking wrath he stamped his foot upon the ground, then laughed bitterly.

"Pah! what do I care? What does this blond, blue-eyed race, with their indolent, cold blood, know of the longing for freedom--of the storm of pa.s.sions--of life in general? Let them pa.s.s judgment upon me! I do not fear the meeting. I shall know how to hold my own."