"Ah, that's why you came?" said Hartmut in a pained voice. "I thought for the moment it was the old friendship which had brought you. But, all the same, I am at your service. With what weapons do you fight?"
"That's an advantage for you. When we used to shoot at a target at Burgsdorf, you were a fine shot. I'll see the Count's second the first thing in the morning, and let you know of the arrangements at once; but I must write to you, for I won't enter Herr von Wallmoden's house."
Willibald only nodded. He had thought that his uncle's enmity would be returned in full by Rojanow, so considered it better to say nothing on the subject.
"Yes, write me," he answered. "You make what arrangements you deem fit. I have no experience in such matters, and leave it all to you. Here is the second's address. Now I must go. I have much to do yet--I must prepare for the worst."
He rose and held out his hand to his friend, but Hartmut did not see it. He sat with eyes fastened on the ground, as he said in a low, stifled tone:
"Wait a minute, Will--Burgsdorf is not far from Berlin--do you often see--"
The young heir was evidently embarrassed by the question; he had avoided the name of Falkenried all through the conversation, and he did not know that the father was expected in the city.
"No," he answered finally, "We don't see the Colonel at all."
"But he comes to Burgsdorf sometimes, does he not?"
"No--he keeps to himself, but I saw him by chance the other day with uncle Wallmoden in Berlin."
"And how does he look? Is he much changed in these last years?"
Willibald shrugged his shoulders: "He has certainly grown old. You would hardly recognize him with his white hair."
"White hair!" exclaimed Hartmut. "He is scarcely fifty-two years old--has he been ill?"
"No--not that I know. His gray hair came suddenly in a few months when he demanded that his resignation be accepted."
Hartmut grew pale and stared at the speaker with anxious eyes.
"My father wished to leave the army, he, heart and soul a soldier, devoted to his profession--in what year did that happen?"
"They would not accept it," said Will, evasively. "They sent him to a distant garrison instead, and for the last three years he has been minister of war."