Baron von Wallmoden’s carriage was drawn up on a cold, dark morning before the door of the Prussian ambassador’s residence.

This time the drive was to be a long one, for servants brought out furs and robes and piled them on the seats.  The ambassador, who had just risen from his breakfast, was taking leave of the Colonel.

“Well, good-bye until to-morrow night,” he said, holding out his hand.  “We’ll be back by that time, anyway, and you’ll remain for several days yet.”

“Yes, as the duke has requested it,” answered the Colonel.  “I sent my report off at once to Berlin; so a few days either way doesn’t matter now.”

“Of course not.  And they’ll certainly be well satisfied with your reports, too.  But we’ve had a few hot days with little time for rest.  Thank God, everything is arranged and we can breathe again!  I feel that I am free to leave the city now for twenty-four hours, so Adelheid and I will go to Ostwalden.”

“Ostwalden is the name of your new country seat?  I remember, you mentioned it yesterday, but I did not understand just where it was situated.”

“It lies about ten miles from Fuerstenstein.  When we were there in September, Schoenau called my attention to it.  It is situated in the most beautiful part of the celebrated forest, and suits me exactly.  They asked a ridiculous price for it, but since my return I’ve decided to take it and am going there now to make some final arrangements.”

“Ada does not appear too well pleased with your choice.  She seems to dislike the neighborhood of Fuerstenstein,” said the Colonel.  But Wallmoden shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“Just a whim, nothing more.  In the beginning Adelheid was in raptures over Ostwalden, and then later she raised every possible objection to the place; but I had gone too far to retreat.  I shall in all probability remain some time at my present post, and want to avoid long journeys in the summer.  So that a country seat which can be reached in four hours from town possesses great attractions in my eyes.  The castle has been sadly neglected of late years, and I’ll have to make many altertions.  But I have my plans for rebuilding and altering all arranged, and am going to make it one of the finest places in the country.”

He talked with great satisfaction over all he was to accomplish at Ostwalden.  Herbert von Wallmoden had possessed but a small fortune of his own, and had been forced to live very circumspectly all his life long, in consequence.  But now he could give free rein to his desire for splendor and display, and could talk of fine homes in city and country without thought of the outlay, or any consideration either for the whims of the young wife whose fortune he was spending with so lavish a hand.

Perhaps Falkenried thought of all this as he listened to his friend grown almost enthusiastic on the subject, but he said nothing.  He had grown more silent and stonier than ever, if that were possible, during the last few days.  And when he did ask a question concerning the every-day affairs of life, one felt it was merely mechanical, and that he scarcely cared whether he received an answer or not.