"Now, have a care, Herr Count. It will be a real pleasure for me to have
a shot at you."

CHAPTER XI.

The short November day was nearly over, and the twilight shadows were
lengthening rapidly, when Prince Egon, returning from a short walk,
entered his brilliantly lighted palace.

"Is Herr Rojanow in his rooms?" he asked a footman.

"Yes, your highness," the servant answered with a respectful bow.

"Then order the carriage for nine o'clock, to take us to the castle."

So saying Egon sprang quickly up the stairs, and hastened to his
friend's apartments, which were on the first floor, not far from his
own, and which were furnished with all the old-time magnificence of a
princely house. A lamp was burning on the table in Hartmut's little
study, and he himself, looking weary and dejected, was lying full length
upon a couch.

"He of the laurel wreath is taking his rest," said the prince, laughing,
as he entered the room and came quickly forward to his friend. "I can't
find fault with you this time, for you haven't had a minute's rest
to-day. There's something exciting in being the rising star in the
poet's heaven, but it's hard on the nerves, I must admit. People are
vieing with one another to do you honor. You certainly had an
overwhelming reception to-day."

"Yes, and we must go to the court to-night," Hartmut answered in a
tired, indifferent tone; evidently the prospect was not an enlivening
one.

"We must, indeed. The high and mighty desire to do homage to the hero of
the hour, my dear aunt at the head of them. You must know that she
thinks she's the embodiment of soulfulness and poesy herself, and that
she has discovered a responsive spirit in you Praise the Lord! She'll
leave me alone for a while, and if she gets very deep in her illusions,
she'll forget ail about the marriage plan, for the time at least; but
you seem to be very indifferent to the ducal favor which, by the way, is
quite pronounced. You hardly speak. Are you ill?"

"I'm tired. I wish I could escape from all the noise, and go to Rodeck."

"To Rodeck? That would be a fine place in the November mists and the
damp, leafless forests. Ugh, it gives me the horrors."

"All the same, I have a great longing for the dreary loneliness, and I'm
going there, too, after a few days; that is, if you have no objection."

"Well, I have very serious objections," retorted Egon crossly. "In
heaven's name what's the matter with you anyway? Now when t