verish with excitement. "I care not under what conditions, only get me
in the army. Don't speak to the duke or to any of the generals, only get
me into some subordinate command. Your name, your kinship to the
reigning house will make your recommendation of great value. They will
not be captious when Prince Adelsberg solicits a place for a friend."

"But they'll be sure to ask me the same questions they asked you. You
are a Roumanian--"

"No, no!" exclaimed Rojanow, passionately. "Have you never seen, never
felt that--I am a German?"

The effect of this declaration was not so great as Hartmut had feared.

The prince looked steadily at him for a minute, then he said:

"I have thought that for some time. The man who wrote 'Arivana' never
learned the German language as part of his education; it was born in
him. But you bear the name of Rojanow--"

"That was my mother's name, she belonged to a Roumanian Bojarin family.
My own name is--Hartmut von Falkenried."

"Falkenried? That was the name of the Prussian officer who came from
Berlin with the secret despatches to the duke. Is he a kinsman of
yours?"

"He is my father."

The prince glanced sympathetically at his friend, for he saw how it
wrung his very soul to make this confession. He felt that here lay
hidden a family drama, and desirous to avoid all show of curiosity
concerning it, he only said:

"Take your own name as the son of your father; then every regiment in
Prussia will be open to you."

"No, that would close them forever--I ran away from the cadet academy
over ten years ago."

"Hartmut!" There was atone of horror in the exclamation.

"Ah, you are like my father. You regard me as a criminal. You who were
reared in freedom know naught of the severities and restraints of that
institution, of its tyrannies, to which every one within its walls has
to bow in blind obedience. I endured it as long as I could, then I left
it, for my soul demanded freedom and light. I appealed to my father in
vain; he but tightened the chains--so I tore them apart and went away
with my mother."

His manner was wild and excited as he told his short, fateful story; but
his eyes, anxious and watchful, never left his listener's face. His
father, with his fierce, severe code of honor, had cursed him, but his
friend, who adored him, who had professed such a deep admiration for his
genius, surely he would understand him, and how he had been driven to
take such a step. But this fr