The hard, proud tone which he used toward his princely friend, seemed not unknown to the latter, who only shrugged his shoulders and said appeasingly: 

“How excited you get in a moment; I believe you are right when you maintain that the air of Germany makes you nervous.  You certainly have changed since you set foot in the country.”

“Possibly; I feel it myself, and I know I annoy you with my queer tempers lately, so you’d better let me go, Egon.”

“I will guard you well, instead.  I did not catch you so easily that I can let you fly again after all my trouble.  So remember that, Hartmut, for I won’t let you go free at any price.”

The words had a joking sound, but Rojanow seemed to resent them.  His eyes were dark, almost threatening, as he replied: 

“But what if I will go?”

“But you won’t, for I will hold you closer than ever.”  Egon laid his arm affectionately on his friend’s shoulder.  “I wonder how this bad, obstinate Hartmut can answer to his conscience for even thinking of leaving me alone.  Have we not lived together for nearly two years, and shared the same dangers and pleasures like brothers?  And now you talk about deserting me, without even a question as to how I’ll get along without you.  Do you think I value your friendship so little, dear old fellow?”

The words were so warm and sincere that Rojanow’s ill-temper was conquered.  His eyes lighted up at the mention of their long and close friendship, and he answered in a voice which bespoke a sincere affection for his friend: 

“Do you think that any one but you could have drawn me to Germany at all?” he said, softly.  “Forgive me, Egon.  I am an unstable nature and have always been a rover since—­since my boyhood.”

“Well, learn to settle yourself here—­here in my home,” exclaimed Egon.  “I only stay at Rodeck that you may see its many and varied beauties.  This old building, hidden away in the midst of the forest, is a veritable production of fairy-land, a woodland poem, such as you will not find at any of my other castles.  The others suit me better, though I know this is to your taste.  But now I must really go.  You won’t ride?”

“No, I will enjoy the much-praised poetry of these woods, which seem to weary you so soon.  You can make your visit alone.”

“I’ll admit I’m not a poet like you, who can muse and dream all day long,” said Egon laughing.  “For a full week we have led hermits’ lives, but I cannot live on sunshine, woody odors and Stadinger’s sermons any longer.  I must see my fellow-men, and the head forester is the only gentleman in the neighborhood; and besides, Herr von Schoenau is a splendid, jolly fellow.  You will like him when you meet him.”

He jumped into the carriage, waved a parting greeting to his friend, and was off.  Rojanow looked after him until the vehicle had disappeared behind the trees, then he turned and struck into a path which led into the forest.