To-day Falkenried was especially abrupt, in order that he might conceal his intense excitement from his son’s unpracticed eye.  But Hartmut saw only the earnest, unmoved countenance, and heard only the cold, severe accents as his father continued: 

“I have nothing for which to reprove you, for in this matter I have given you no commands and no word has ever been spoken on the subject between us.  But now I am forced to break the silence.  You have always believed your mother dead, and I have tacitly encouraged this belief, for I have wished to protect you from recollections which poisoned my life.  Your youth at least should be free, I said.  But I have not been able to carry out that plan, I see, so now you must learn the truth.”

The father paused a moment.  To a man of his sensitive feelings it was torture to discuss this subject with his son, but there was no option now, he must speak farther.

“When I was a young man I loved your mother devotedly, and married her against the wishes of my parents, who saw only unhappiness for me in a union with a woman from a foreign land.  They were right, the marriage was a most unhappy one, and was finally dissolved by my desire.  My son was awarded to me unconditionally, for it was my absolute right.  More I will not tell you, for I cannot denounce a mother to her own son, so let that be enough for you.”

Short and bitter as this declaration was, it made a singular impression upon Hartmut.  His father would not denounce his mother to him, to him, who heard daily the bitterest accusations and invectives against his father from her lips.

Zalika had, as might be supposed, cast all the blame of the separation upon her husband and his countless tyrannies, and her son, who had suffered so much from his father’s austerity, gave a willing ear to all her tirades.  And yet these few short, earnest words had more effect than all Zalika’s passionate outbreaks.  Hartmut felt instinctively on which side the truth lay.

“And now, to the main point,” Falkenried went on.  “What was the tenor of your daily interviews?”

Perhaps Hartmut had not expected this question; a deep red overspread his face, he was silent and cast his eyes on the ground.

“Ah, you do not care to repeat it.  I desire to know it.  I command you to answer me!”

But Hartmut was still silent; he only pressed his lips closer together, and looked defiantly at his father, who had come close to him now.

“You will not speak?  Perhaps a command from the other side keeps you silent?  No matter, your silence tells me more than any words.  I see how much you are estranged from me already; a little longer with such influences, and you would be lost to me forever.  These meetings with your mother are now at an end.  I forbid you to see her again.  You will go home with me to-day and remain under my protection.  Whether that appears cruel to you or not, it must be, and you must obey.”