"

The excited girl did not let her finish; she flung her arms around her
neck, and cried out, passionately:

"Ah, now I know why I was so angry when he allowed his mother to insult
me and did not take my part. It grieved me so to think he was weak and
cowardly, for I have loved him from the very first."

CHAPTER XII.

Extensive preparations for the approaching social season were being made
at the house of the Prussian ambassador. Wallmoden had entered upon the
duties of his present official position early in the past spring, but
his father-in-law's death following immediately after, and the summer
coming on, he had as yet done nothing to discharge the social
obligations incumbent upon him as the representative of a great
government. The magnificent house which he had taken was furnished with
great splendor. His marriage to an heiress made many pleasant things
possible to him now, and his great desire was to make his residence one
of mark in the southern capital. The following week he was to give his
first reception, and in the meantime, numerous visits had to be made.

The ambassador was busily engaged, also, in attending to certain
official matters of more than usual importance. With all his other cares
he was secretly annoyed at the result of the production of "Arivana." If
he had had any thought before of openly denouncing Hartmut Rojanow, such
denunciation was now almost impossible.

This adventurer had been so praised and so lauded and admired for his
poetical genius and talents, that just at present it was a matter of
doubt whether any statement which Wallmoden could make would have much
effect on the society and the court where the newly risen star was the
hero of the hour. Hartmut had risked much against Wallmoden's
threats--and won. The one thing which completed the ambassador's
discomfiture, and made his position extremely painful, was the coming of
Falkenried. It would be impossible to conceal his son's whereabouts and
doings from the father, and Wallmoden dare not let him learn them from
strangers. When they had met in Berlin, for a brief hour, neither knew
of the journey to the South which the Colonel would have to take almost
immediately. He was to be the guest of his old friend, for he also knew
Adelheid very well; she and her brother had grown up under his eyes.

When Major Falkenried had taken command of a distant garrison ten years
before, the little city where he was stationed had been