Four weeks had passed since the arrival of the strangers at the inn at Tausens; every day, favoured by the clear summer skies, they had made delightful excursions among the mountains, and still no one talked of leaving; Uncle Balthasar indeed, instigated thereto by Aunt Minni, who, in spite of her comfortable quarters, missed the luxuries of the villa in K----, had once or twice asked his niece how long she intended to stay at Tausens, but he had received no decided answer. The kindly old man, seeing how his pet was enjoying herself, would have been the last to wish to cut short her enjoyment, even had he not been so thoroughly at his ease as he was. For his own part he declared he never had been so much entertained as in the agreeable society in which he now found himself. Every evening the party at the inn was joined by the cousins from the castle, and by the judge, the forester, and the collector from the village, and Uncle Balthasar was in his glory. Also he spent as much time as he could with 'dear Guido,' only regretting that his favourite was not duly appreciated by the rest of the party. He gladly accompanied him upon his walks from time to time, never dreaming that the former dragoon's only reason for desiring his society was the hope that he entertained of gaining some certainty as to his future prospects from the old man's artless talk of Eva and her relations with Delmar and Leo.

In fact, poor Uncle Balthasar was deeply grieved that Delmar, Herwarth, and Leo should treat Bertram with such haughty reserve, and that Eva did not comport herself towards her lover as a girl should, but showed a decided preference for the strangers. The kindly soul therefore took care that Bertram should always have a place at the breakfast-table which made it possible for him to avoid all necessity of speaking with Delmar or Herwarth.

Such a seat Uncle Balthasar had provided, between himself and Aunt Minni, for his 'dear Guido' on a certain clear, rather cool morning in August, when the party had assembled upon the balcony at the Post. It was rather late, nearly nine o'clock; there was to be no long walk to-day, because the young people had made so distant an excursion the day before. Leo and Hilda had not come down from the castle, but had invited Eva and Delmar, with Herwarth and his betrothed, to spend the day with them in the castle garden and in seeing all that there was of interest within the old walls.

Conversation did not flow as easily as usual this morning. Herwarth and Aline talked, it is true, but Delmar sat gazing dreamily abroad over the valley, and Eva rarely spoke.

Paul had lately lost much of his former vivacity; he sometimes had no power to rouse himself and conquer his depression, and would sink into a revery, from which he awakened only when he observed Hilda regarding him with a look of trouble on her lovely face. Then perhaps for a while he would be as merry as ever, although this would not last long. He would leave the rest, lagging behind upon some side-path if they were walking, or absenting himself upon some slight pretext from the party on the balcony.

After a month of hard struggle Paul at last confronted a crisis in his fate. The goal which he lived to attain was reached. Between Leo and Eva there was now only the promise given by the latter to Bertram. The heart of each was laid bare to the other. It was in Paul's power to remove the obstacle that separated the lovers. Why did he hesitate to pronounce the word that would avail to do so? He excused this to himself by urging that he must first keep the promise given to Leo, whereby he was pledged to learn all that could be known of his past from Dr. Putzer. He did not confess even to himself that he dreaded keeping this promise; that he shuddered when he received from Dr. Atzinger, who was in constant attendance upon the sick man, daily intelligence of the slow improvement in his patient's condition; that his heart had throbbed fast when he heard that Putzer would soon be in complete possession of his faculties and able to receive Delmar's visit; and that on this very morning, as he sat silent at the breakfast-table, he was lost in gloomy reflection because Dr. Atzinger had reported on the previous day that he hoped on the ensuing morning to allow Delmar the long-talked-of interview with the sick man.

This visit Delmar was now anticipating with harrowing anxiety. In the sleepless night he had passed he had reviewed in detail every circumstance of the last few weeks. Four weeks since death would have been welcome to him, in view of the horrible certainty that Hilda was legally his sister, although bound to him by no natural tie; all that had given life an interest to him then had been the hope of insuring his friend's happiness; he thought this hope now upon the point of fulfilment, and yet a possible death seemed to him far from welcome now.

What had produced this change in the last month? Was his conviction that Hilda was legally his half-sister shaken? No, on the contrary it had been confirmed; after his conversation with Leo he had written to a prominent lawyer in K----, instructing him to make every possible inquiry as to Herr Delmar's place of abode and family circumstances before he had come to reside in K----; placing at his disposal the means for making these investigations thorough at any cost. The result had been such as to remove all doubt in Paul's mind, had any such existed, as to his relationship with Hilda.

The lawyer had established the fact that Paul Delmar, the son of Herr Delmar, had died a few days after his mother,--there were official records of this,--and also that Herr Delmar had established himself in K---- shortly after leaving his native place. He had brought to K---- with him a child, whose certificate of birth and baptism as his son Paul had been shown to the proper authorities. Of course, as the lawyer wrote, the fact that Herr Delmar had produced an adopted son as his own could be proved beyond a doubt; but this would never be done unless by Herr Paul Delmar's desire.

After this intelligence from his lawyer, Paul needed no confirmation from Dr. Putzer of his relation to Herr von Heydeck, but nevertheless he was determined to obtain it. Towards ten o'clock Dr. Atzinger made his appearance, and announced that his patient had exceeded his expectations by himself earnestly entreating that Herr Delmar would visit him.

When Paul heard this he sprang up from the breakfast-table and would have hurried away, when suddenly his glance fell upon Bertram, who was observing him narrowly. The thought instantly occurred to him that after this interview with Dr. Putzer he might not be able to endure another twenty-four hours in the society of his friends. Therefore before seeing the sick man Eva must be released from her bondage.

He stood reflecting for a moment, and then turning to Herwarth, Aline, and Eva, he begged them not to delay their visit to the castle upon his account; he should in all probability shortly follow them, although he might be detained longer than he anticipated by Dr. Putzer. Eva's offer to wait for him he decidedly refused to accept; and only when they had all promised to set off without him did he turn to Bertram, saying, "Before I see Dr. Putzer, Herr von Bertram, you will perhaps grant me the pleasure of fifteen minutes' conversation with you. Shall we walk?"

Certainly no invitation could have been more suavely and courteously expressed, and yet Bertram's face grew ashy pale, and his heart sank within him as he bowed and stammered a few words of assent to Delmar's proposal.

As soon as Paul had requested Dr. Atzinger to await him at Dr. Putzer's, he left the balcony and led the way, Bertram following, to the village street, where first he moderated his pace, that the ex-lieutenant might walk beside him.

"Do you know, Herr von Bertram, why I have thus requested your company?" he began.

"Indeed--Herr Delmar--I cannot conceive----"

A look of contempt from Delmar greeted these stammered words of denial. "Your embarrassment assures me that you are perfectly aware of what I wish to discuss," Paul continued. "I will therefore come to the point at once. Your unnatural relations with FrÄulein Eva Schommer must cease this very day,--this very hour!"

"Herr Delmar----"

"Do not interrupt me. Experience must have taught you that when I speak I mean what I say. For the last four weeks I have watched FrÄulein Schommer narrowly; there is no need to tell you that your betrothed abhors you, that she loves my friend, Leo von Heydeck, with all her soul, and that nothing but her inexorable sense of right withholds her from retracting the promise by which she bound herself to you. You know all this as well as I do. If you were a man of honour, such knowledge would suffice to induce you voluntarily to renounce----"

"Herr Delmar, you insult me! Remember your promise!"

"I promised you nothing, and I cannot conceive how the mention of a fact of which you are perfectly cognizant can insult you; but we will not quarrel about words. The fact is that you do not voluntarily dissolve an engagement which you never should have contracted, and that you thus force me to make use of the power over you which I possess. Listen then to a brief declaration of my intentions. Either you will, in order to preserve at least the semblance of honour, make known to FrÄulein Schommer in a letter that you release her from her promise, that you voluntarily dissolve the engagement between you, after which you will instantly leave Tausens, so that all further explanation may be impossible, or FrÄulein Schommer shall learn from me what reasons moved you to make your public apology to Leo von Heydeck, and I will present in K----, to be cashed, a certain forged check.

"If you do as I require I am ready to hand over to you a sum of five thousand thalers as soon as your letter is sent to FrÄulein Schommer. If you refuse, you will be expelled this very day from our circle, where there is really no room for a detected forger. Make your choice!"

Guido trembled with futile rage while Delmar went on speaking with calm decision. Had he only been alone with his foe, he would have throttled him. But they were walking along the village street, the observed of many eyes. Bertram knew that he was in his enemy's power, and he knew Delmar, and that his was no vain threat. He dared not make any resistance; he only hoped to gain time. He thought of the ebony casket, and of Nanette. If Delmar would only grant him a little time, a few days, he might bring the maid over to assist in his plans, now that she was daily yielding more and more to his influence. Therefore he suppressed all expression of anger; nothing could be wrung from this man by opposition; submission and entreaty must be tried.

"You are fearfully hard upon me, Herr Delmar," he said, with feigned humility. "Was it magnanimous to leave me so long in torment between fear and hope? I implore you to give me a few days in which to prepare myself for the step you demand of me. I will speak with my betrothed, and will entreat her to tell me frankly whether indeed she cannot look for happiness in a life spent by my side. And if, as I fear she will, she tells me that she cannot, that she can only give me her hand without her heart, and that her promise alone binds her to me, then I can fulfil your desire honourably, Herr Delmar. Why, after keeping me waiting for weeks without pronouncing judgment against me, do you suddenly insist upon handing me over to disgrace? Only give me a few days' respite, and I promise to do your bidding."

Paul's eyes gloomily sought the ground. A word of entreaty always had great weight with him; it was only where he met with resistance that he was hard. True humility and docility were sure to disarm him. Earnestly as he wished that Leo's fate should be decided, much as he desired to be at liberty to do as he pleased, it is more than probable that he would have yielded to Bertram's entreaty if a suspicion had not suddenly dawned upon him that the man meant to play him false. Why should he desire an interview with Eva? Did he hope to induce the wealthy heiress to buy her freedom from him? Such a scheme might well be attributed to the scoundrel, and Paul was convinced that Eva would be ready to sacrifice her entire fortune if by so doing the detested tie might be severed. The sudden suspicion steeled him against Bertram's entreaty, and he replied, "Not a day, not an hour, will I give you; you must decide upon the spot!"

One look into Delmar's calm, resolute face convinced Bertram that he had no respite, however short, to expect; he still might perhaps succeed in moving him in another respect, and with a profound sigh he continued: "You are terribly severe and cruel with me, Herr Delmar. How have I deserved such scant mercy at your hands? In a miserable moment of my life, a prey to despair, I was led to invoke destruction upon my head by that stroke of the pen. I was half frantic. I had to choose between disgrace and death by my own hand. Love of life conquered, and I forged that signature, an act which I have repented bitterly ever since. You then saved me from merited disgrace, for which I was inexpressibly grateful to you. I felt the wrong I had done you in handing you the forged check, and I was never without a sense of devotion to you as my saviour from dishonour. And yet you are now the one to invoke disgrace upon my head. Remember how you have punished me already. You forced me to public dishonour among my comrades, to resign from the army, to destroy all my hopes in life, and now you thrust me into the abyss from which a marriage with Eva would save me.

"You are enormously wealthy, and you know nothing of the misery of poverty; therefore you thrust me forth into the world with a paltry pittance of five thousand thalers. You offer me five thousand thalers as indemnification for what you take from me! Can five thousand thalers begin life afresh for me and worthily support the name I bear? Can I even live for a few short years upon such a sum? Be magnanimous, Herr Delmar, and let me have, not as a gift but as a loan, a sum sufficient to buy an estate upon the income of which I can live as a landed proprietor, and in time repay you. You will not miss it, and I shall be forever grateful to you."

With inexpressible contempt Paul regarded the speaker who thus in his servile entreaty for money laid bare all the meanness of his sordid soul. He would gladly have paid any sum to secure Leo's happiness, but to supply this aristocratic beggar with the means for a life of dissipation would in his estimation be a sin against humanity. Utterly disgusted, he turned away; he would have nothing more to do with the fellow. "Not a word more, Herr von Bertram!" he exclaimed, harshly; "you have heard my offer, which I now almost regret having made; you must now decide whether to accept or to reject it. You would squander fifty thousand thalers as quickly as five thousand at the gaming-table. I know that I was wrong in offering you money. But I did so, and will stand by my word, if you declare yourself ready this minute to do as I command you. The time which I was free to devote to you is past. I must have a simple 'yes' or 'no'! Answer me!"

"I implore you, Herr Delmar----"

"'Yes' or 'no'! Not another word! If you do not reply, I shall understand it as 'no,' and you must abide by the consequences."

Not yet could Bertram bring himself to utter the decisive 'yes.' He still hesitated, but Paul left him no time for further reflection. When Bertram paused he turned from him with contempt, and would have returned to the inn. His firmness conquered.

Bertram saw that all would be lost, and the promised five thousand thalers besides, if he did not instantly submit. He hastened after Delmar. "Yes, Herr Delmar!" he exclaimed, "I submit to your wishes; I confide in your magnanimity!"

"You have made prudent use of the last moment," Paul rejoined coldly; "follow me to my room."

Again he led the way, Bertram following him. At the door of the inn they met Aline, Eva, and Herwarth about to start for the castle. "I will soon join you," Paul said, as he passed them. Bertram never lifted his eyes from the ground, and they did not appear to notice him.

Arrived in his room, Delmar directed Bertram to his writing-table. "Sit there," he said; "take a sheet of paper, and write. I will dictate to you a letter that shall serve as the last chapter of the miserable romance of your betrothal. You shall extricate yourself from this wretched business as a man of honour; at least you shall appear such in FrÄulein Schommer's eyes. It is of course more than you deserve, and is probably great folly on my part; it is not done for your sake, but because I owe some reparation to FrÄulein Schommer for a former unjust estimate of her, and I should like to save her from the humiliating conviction that she has been betrothed to so utter a scoundrel as yourself. Therefore I will surround your brow with the halo of high-souled renunciation. Write!"

Bertram bit his lips, not daring to vent the rage that was consuming him. Without a word of reply he took up a pen, and wrote down the words which Delmar, standing behind him, dictated over his shoulder.

"Four terrible, agonizing weeks have I passed, weeks in which each day was torture to me. With every miserable hour I have become more and more clearly convinced that you, dearest Eva, have accorded me a right to remain near you as your betrothed only in consequence of a promise too hastily given. I have seen that your heart belongs to another, and that it never can be mine.

"I do not blame you; I only bewail the ill fortune that shatters all my life's fairest hopes. I should be indeed lost to all sense of honour if I attempted to hold you, my beloved Eva, to a promise given me when you were ignorant of your own heart. You, at least, shall not be unhappy. I give back to you the faith which your inexorable sense of rectitude forbids you to recall. I voluntarily release you from your engagement.

"I shall not, I cannot, see you again. It is with the deepest pain that I leave you, but there is some consolation for me in the thought that you will not think of me with hatred, but will accord me some measure of friendly remembrance in the knowledge that I have sacrificed my happiness to yours.

"Guido von Bertram."

The letter was written. Paul took it, and read it aloud, laughing bitterly as he finished it. "Excellent!" he said; "an epistle which might worthily find a place in any romance, and which is certainly not dear at five thousand thalers. Uncle Balthasar may still speak with genuine emotion of his 'dear Guido;' the fair Eva may think kindly of the noble self-renunciation that inspired the letter, and perhaps privately repent that she did the writer such injustice. Even Leo will shake his head, unable to conceive how such words could have been written by him who penned them. Seal it with your signet-ring, and I myself will deliver it to FrÄulein Schommer."

Bertram obeyed in silence. He sealed the letter and gave it to Delmar, who in return took from his pocket-book five thousand thalers in large notes, which he handed to the ex-lieutenant, saying, "Our business is now concluded, Herr von Bertram. I leave you, never to see you again. I myself will order a carriage for you from the postmaster. It will be at the door in five minutes; just in time for you to catch the midday train from the railway-station. In a quarter of an hour you will have left Tausens. Only upon this understanding; do I give you this money. I shall reclaim it if I find you still here when I return from a visit I am about to make in the village. And if you should dare to attempt to obtain an interview with FrÄulein Schommer, I shall ruthlessly use against you the forged check in my possession. Make haste with the packing of your portmanteau; you have but a quarter of an hour's time at the most."

Delmar expected no answer, and received none. Bertram swept up the pile of notes, and with a last look of hatred as his only farewell to Paul, hurried away to his room, where he locked himself in, while Delmar quietly went down-stairs and ordered Hansel to have a conveyance brought to the door for Herr von Bertram, who wished to catch the midday train. After which he proceeded to pay his visit to Dr. Putzer.

When Bertram found himself alone in his room, he no longer restrained the expression of the rage that possessed him. Muttering curses upon the failure of his schemes, he paced the floor like some caged wild beast. All was over! He was powerless in the grasp of his deadly foe; thrust forth thus into the world with a paltry pittance of five thousand thalers to atone for the millions he had lost.

How gladly he would have murdered his pitiless, inexorable enemy! But even in the midst of his paroxysm of anger he shuddered at the thought of Delmar's cold, quiet manner, which always had power to overawe his coward will.

His fate was decided; he must submit. The ebony casket again recurred to him. Just then there was a rustle in the next room. Eva and Aline had gone to the castle. Nanette must be there alone. Hitherto he had not thought of making her his accomplice in the theft; this now occurred to him. Only with her aid could he hope to make the coveted prize his own.

But if he did thus gain possession of it, would not suspicion instantly fall upon him? Eva would miss her treasure as soon as she returned from the castle, and Delmar would not leave her long in doubt as to who had stolen it. He pondered the matter. Eva could not possibly return from the castle before two a clock; she was to dine at three at the inn. But by two he might be far away. If he took the train to Toblach, and then drove to Schleuderbach, he could reach the Italian frontier before even a telegraphic message could be despatched in search of him, although Delmar should immediately institute a pursuit of the fugitive. Once across the frontier he would surely be able to elude all discovery.

What would Eva say when she found her precious casket missing and divined who had taken it? As he thought of the letter he had just written, and the contrast it formed to the act he contemplated, he laughed bitterly. But his time was short, every minute was precious, he dared delay no longer. He knocked cautiously at the door leading to the next room. The bolt was withdrawn, and Nanette opened it. She was received by him with a tender embrace. "My little darling," he said, "how fortunate I am in seeing you once more before I leave!"

The girl looked at him with terrified surprise. "What do you mean, Herr von Bertram? You are going away? How? Where?"

"I will tell you, my pet, and you only. I have just received intelligence that a suit has been instituted against me in K---- for leaving there without leave of absence from my superior officer. I am to be arrested here to-day and taken back a prisoner to K----. I must fly or I am lost; in a quarter of an hour I must leave Tausens."

"What will become of FrÄulein Schommer?"

"Do not mention her. I am glad to be rid of her even in this way. I hate her, but it breaks my heart to leave you. Oh, Nanette, if you really cared for me you would leave all and come with me! You should be my darling little wife, with nothing to do but enjoy yourself all day long!"

Nanette listened, speechless with rapture. Here was a proposal she had never ventured to hope for! A great gentleman, and the betrothed besides of her hated mistress, asked her to fly with him and be his wife,--his real wife,--a lady of rank! Her head grew giddy at the thought. She could hardly believe her ears.

But Bertram went on pouring forth his insidious protestations and entreaties until she could doubt no longer. And when he pointed to the ebony casket and said that it contained what would give them a careless, happy life in Italy, she made no resistance to his taking it from the table where it stood, and bewildered and submissive only asked whether they should not be found out. He soothed her with the assurance that they should both be far beyond the Italian frontier before the absence of the casket was detected or any pursuit thought of.

Before many minutes were past Bertram had won the girl over to his purpose; she consented to accompany him in his flight, she became his accomplice. By his directions she locked on the inside the door leading from Eva's room to the passage, and then followed her grand gentleman, who carried the casket, into his room where he locked the door of communication and put the key in his pocket.

Time was precious, and Bertram made haste to thrust the casket, which must be hidden from sight while he was leaving the inn, into his portmanteau. Here however he encountered an unexpected difficulty. On each side of the box was a large ornamented gilt handle, by which it had usually been lifted. These handles made the box too large for the interior of his portmanteau. As Bertram tried in vain to pack away the casket so that the small trunk would close, he muttered an oath. He could not possibly allow the box, which the postmaster and the inn servants knew to be Eva's property, to be seen in his possession, and there was no way of concealing it except by packing it into the portmanteau, which was too small for it. He tried to bend one of the metal handles, and as he did so it broke off in his hand. "So best!" he said, throwing it aside, and then wrenching off the other, which he also threw on the floor. The casket now fitted perfectly inside the portmanteau, filling it however so completely that Bertram was forced to leave most of his clothes behind him.

In a few minutes the portmanteau was locked, and Bertram himself carried it down to the conveyance which was awaiting him at the inn-door. The postmaster stood by it, cap in hand, expressing sorrow that the gentleman was about to leave him. His surprise was great when Nanette suddenly made her appearance in her bonnet and shawl and took her seat beside Herr von Bertram in the carriage.

"I will take this opportunity of driving to town," she said, observing honest Hansel's amazement. "I have several commissions to execute for my mistress, and I will come back towards evening in the carriage. Adieu, Herr Postmaster!"

"Drive on!" cried Bertram. "I must catch the midday train!" The driver cracked his whip, and the horses started at a rapid pace.

Hansel looked after the carriage as long as it was in sight, and then turned into the inn with a wise shake of his head. This sudden departure of the young nobleman, and so strangely accompanied too, did not seem to him just what it should be. But these great people from the city certainly did have many queer ways, and as long as Herr Delmar had ordered the carriage everything must be right, and thus Hansel forced himself to think.

He went up-stairs to see that Herr von Bertram had forgotten nothing in his room, and to his surprise found the door locked. This was vexatious. The Herr must have locked it absently and put the key into his pocket. Ten to one he would forget to give it to the driver when they reached the railway-station.

Hansel went grumbling and fetched his master-key, which opened all the bedrooms in the house; but when he entered Bertram's apartment he found it in a condition which greatly increased his misgivings with regard to the sudden departure. One or two suits of clothes and a quantity of linen lay about the floor in disorder. They could not have been forgotten; they must have been left behind intentionally. All these clothes had been brought to the inn in Herr von Bertram's portmanteau, and yet Hansel had noticed that it had looked much fuller without all these articles in it when the gentleman had put it into the carriage just now. Again Hansel shook his head; he did not know what to make of all this, and he resolved to ask Herr Delmar about it as soon as he returned to the inn.