Since the first day on which Willibald had surprised them both, and they had been forced to take him into their confidence, Zalika had chosen a late hour in the afternoon, and a lonely place in the wood for her meetings with her son.  She was accustomed to meet him before the twilight began, in order that he might not attract attention by returning late to Burgsdorf.  He had always been punctual, but to-day his mother had waited already an hour, in vain.  What accident had detained him, or had their secret been disclosed?  Since a third knew it, she was prepared for such a contingency.

All was so silent in the wood that the rustle of her gown and her light footsteps as she walked to and fro, were the only sounds which greeted her ear.

Beneath the tall trees lay long nocturnal shadows; over the pond where there was more light, being free from shade, hung a faint vapory cloud, and over yonder in the meadows, where a pool of water, concealed by the mossy moorland, had formed, the mists had gathered still more thickly and hung like a gray-white veil over all the heath.  The air from the meadows was blowing damp and chill.

At last there was a light step, faint and uncertain—­then, as it came on quickly in the direction of the pond, firmer and more resolute.  Now a slender figure came in view, scarcely recognizable in the gathering darkness, and Zalika flew to meet her son, who, in the next minute lay in her arms.

“What has happened?” she asked amidst the wonted stormy caresses.  “Why are you so late?  I had begun to despair of seeing you to-day.  What detained you?”

“I could not come sooner,” Hartmut explained, still breathless, after his long run.  “I come from my father.”

Zalika drew back.

“From your father?  And he knows—?”

“All!”

“So he is at Burgsdorf?  Since when? who told him?”

The young man related in a few words all that had happened, but he had not finished when a bitter laugh from his mother interrupted him.

“Of course, they are all in the plot together to keep me from my child.  And your father?  He has threatened and punished you again as if you were a criminal, because you have been in your mother’s arms?”

Hartmut shook his head.  The memory of the moment when his father drew him to his breast was yet before him, despite all the bitterness with which the scene had ended.

“No,” he said sadly, “but he has forbidden me to see you again, and sternly commanded me to part from you.”

“And in spite of all, you are here?  O, I knew it!”

Her words had a joyful sound.

“Do not triumph too soon, mamma,” her son answered her bitterly.  “I only came to say good-bye.”

“Hartmut!”

“Father has given me permission to see you this time, and then—­”

“Then he will take you away again, and you will be forever lost to me.  Is that it?”