Wallmoden was silent, but the colonel stepped up to him and laid his hand heavily on his arm.

“You mentioned just now that you felt it your duty to tell the duke, but consideration for me had kept you silent so far.  I have but one thing left to guard in the wide world, the honor of my name, and such an explanation on your part would stain it forever.  Do what you think is best.  I shall not prevent you, but—­I must then do what I think best.”

His voice sounded hard as ever, but there was a tone underlying his words which fairly frightened the ambassador.

“For God’s sake, Falkenried, what do you mean?”

“Do as you choose.  You diplomats have peculiar ideas of honor at times, with which ordinary mortals may not agree—­I leave it to you.”

“I shall be silent, I give you my word,” answered Wallmoden, to whom Falkenried’s words were enigmatical, for Adelheid’s confession was unknown to him.  “I had really decided on that before you came.  The name of Falkenried shall not be exposed to scorn or derision through me.”

“Well and good, then we need not discuss the subject farther,” said Falkenried.  Then, after a short pause, he began on quite a different subject.  “You have prepared the duke for what I bring him?  What does he say about it?”

Here was again the old, iron impenetrability which closed the door against all inquiry.  The change was a welcome one to the ambassador, who was here, as elsewhere, the diplomat, and disliked nothing more than unnecessary candor and straightforwardness, and who would never have thought of giving all this information to Falkenried, had not the danger of his friend learning it elsewhere been very great.  Now no matter what happened, he could say to the father, “I told you.  I warned you.”  Even the duke could not find fault with a man for sparing an old friend.  “Wise Herbert” understood how to answer them all.

Colonel Falkenried’s stay was limited, and there was so much to be done that he had scarcely time to breathe.

Audiences with the duke, consultations with prominent military officials, hours spent with certain members of foreign embassies, all these had to be crowded into a few days.  Wallmoden was scarcely less in demand until everything was arranged.  The ambassador, and more especially Colonel von Falkenried, had reason to be contented with the result, for they had acquired everything which they demanded for their government, and could count with full reliance on the duke.  It was whispered that some matter of more than ordinary import was on the tapis, but none of the gossipers knew what, and the few who did know kept their own counsel.

The author of “Arivana” was the favorite of the day, and people began to discuss his very erratic behavior.  Almost immediately after his glittering triumph he had turned his back upon all who had done him homage, friends and sycophants alike, and gone to the “wilderness,” as Prince Adelsberg explained to every one; where that wilderness lay, no one knew, for Egon had given his word to his friend that he would not reveal his retreat, and Hartmut had promised in return that as soon as he had had a little quiet and rest he would come back.  So no one knew that Herr Rojanow was at Rodeck.