never-to-be-forgotten day, and
now nature demanded rest. Lights yet glimmered from a few windows, and
these belonged to Colonel von Falkenried's and Frau von Wallmoden's
rooms, which were only separated by a long, narrow ante-chamber.

Falkenried was to accompany Adelheid to the city to-morrow. He had seen
her and Regine, and then had stood for a long time beside the body of
his old friend, who had parted from him with a careless good-by but
yesterday; who had been so full of plans and projects of his hopes and
ambitions for the future. Now everything was at an end. There he lay,
cold and stiff upon the bier. Falkenried stood at the window in his own
room; even this fatal accident had not moved him from his icy calm; he
had long looked upon death as a happy release. Life was hard, very
hard--but not death.

He gazed out into the silent winter night. The whole northern sky was
aglow with the dark red flame which started out of the darkness like a
sheet of fire. The stars blinked faintly, as through a purple veil, and
far beneath them all the earth lay cold and white and still.

Falkenried was so deeply wrapt in thought that he did not notice the
opening and closing of the door of the adjoining room. Softly his own
room door opened, but he did not look up nor see the tall figure
standing on the threshold.

The Colonel still stood by the window, though his face was but half
turned toward it, and the flickering of the candle on the table shone
across it. How deep and sad were the lines around the mouth; how
fearfully furrowed the high forehead beneath the white hair. Hartmut
shuddered unconsciously--he had not thought to find the change so great
nor so painful. This man who was yet in his prime, looked old, so old.
And who had worked this change? Several minutes passed in silence, then
a sound was heard in the room, half aloud and breathless; only one word,
but that one full of inexpressible tenderness:

"Father!"

The colonel started as if a voice from another world had fallen on his
ear. Then he turned slowly, but with an expression as though he expected
really to see a vision from the spirit-land.

Hartmut took a few quick steps forward, and then stood still. "Father,
it is I. I come--"

He was silent, for now he met his father's eyes--those eyes which he so
dreaded; and meeting them, he was robbed of all courage to speak
farther. His head sank and he was silent.

Every drop of blood seemed to have left the co