“Refused?  And why?”

“Because he dared not acknowledge himself a German, and all strangers, especially Roumanians, are regarded with suspicion, and with justice, too.  We can’t be too cautious now, for fear of spies!”

“For God’s sake, what do you mean by that?” exclaimed Adelheid, who began to see toward what Egon was drifting.  He sprang up now in great excitement and came over to her side.

“If you wish to know, then listen to me.  Hartmut came to me and desired me to use my influence to get him into one of our regiments.  I refused at first, but he finally forced me to promise to do my utmost with a threat which I now think he had no intention of carrying into execution.  I kept my word, and went at once to a general officer whose brother had but recently returned from Paris where he was secretary of our legation.  This gentleman was present at the time of my visit, and as soon as he heard the name of Rojanow, asked many questions and then told us—­I cannot speak of it—­I have loved Hartmut more than any one else in the world, have almost adored him, his talents, his genius, and now I learn that this friend, who was all in all to me, is but a miserable, low wretch.  He and his mother served as spies—­spies, think of it—­in Paris.  Perhaps he would do the same in our army, and that was his object in striving to be admitted.”

He laid his hand over his eyes if to keep out the horrible picture.

There was something inexpressibly sad in the young man’s face and manner as he told how his idol had been shattered.  Adelheid rose, and supporting herself against a chair, spoke in an eager, excited, trembling tone.

“And what did he say when you accused him?”

“Rojanow, do you mean?  I haven’t seen him again and do not intend to.  It is better to spare both him and me.  He is at the Rodeck forestry awaiting an answer from me.  I sent him three lines telling him what I had learned, without one word of comment.  He has the letter by this time, I suppose, and that will be sufficient explanation.”

“God help him!”

“You speak sympathetically,” said the prince, sneering.

“Yes, for this is not the first time I have heard this terrible accusation.  His father threw it into his face during their interview.”

“Well, when his own father acknowledged the disgrace, surely—­”

“He is a sadly injured, deeply embittered man, and could have no unbiased judgment; but you, Hartmut’s friend, who stood so near him, should shield him from such an imputation!”

Egon looked with astonishment at the excited woman.

“That evidently seems an easy matter to you,” he said slowly.  “I could not do it.  There was too much to condemn in Hartmut’s life; he told me much himself that had seemed mysterious before, and I can find no excuse, no extenuating circumstances for his actions.  Even his denunciation of—­”