“That is impossible; the discipline of our institution is so severe there could be no intercourse here of which I should not learn at once.”

Wallmoden did not seem to share his friend’s confidence.  He shook his head doubtfully.

“To speak openly, I regard it as a great mistake that you are obstinately silent toward your son concerning his mother and the fact that she is living.  When he learns it from some other source, what then?  And sometime you must tell him.”

“Perhaps, in a couple of years, when he’ll have to enter the world.  Now he’s only a student, a half-grown boy, and I cannot disclose to him the drama which was once played in his father’s house—­I cannot.”

“So be it.  You know the woman who was once your wife, and know what to expect from her.  I fear there is nothing impossible for this woman to accomplish.”

“Ah, I know her,” said Falkenried with intense bitterness, “and because I know her I will protect my son from her at any price.  He shall not breath the poisonous breath of her presence; no, not even for an hour.  I do not under estimate the danger from Zalika’s return, but as long as Hartmut remains at my side he is safe from her, for she will never come near me, I give you my word for that.”

“We will hope so,” answered Wallmoden, as he rose and reached out his hand at parting.  “But do not forget that the greatest danger with which you have to contend lies in Hartmut himself; he is in every trait the son of his mother.  You are coming over to Burgsdorf with him day after to-morrow, I hear?”

“Yes, he is to spend his short autumn vacation with Willibald.  I shall be able to remain a day only, but I’ll surely come for that time.  Good-bye.”

The secretary left the house, and Falkenried returned once more to the window, but he only gave a fleeting glance after his friend, who waved him a parting greeting, then returned gloomily to his own thoughts.

“The son of his mother.”  The words rang in his ears, but the thought was not new to him; he had known it a long time, and it was this knowledge which had furrowed his brow so deeply, and wrung from him many a deep sigh.  He was a man who could brave any outward danger; but against this unfortunate heritage of blood in his only child he had battled with all his energy for years, but in vain.

* * * * *

“Now I tell you for the last time that all this noise and confusion must come to an end, for my patience is finally exhausted.  Such goings on as we have had for the last three days are enough to make one think that all Burgsdorf is bewitched.  That Hartmut is full of mad tricks from his head to his feet.  When he once gets loose from the reins which his father holds tight enough, I’ll admit that, there’s no getting on with him, and of course you follow after him through thick and thin, and obey your lord and master’s slightest behest.  Oh, you are a fine pair.”