y long--your admission to the
army."

Hartmut gazed in unutterable astonishment at the speaker.

"Impossible! How could you?"

"Take these papers," said Adelheid, drawing out a long sealed envelope
which she carried under her cloak. "You will answer the description of
Joseph Tanner, twenty-nine years old, slender, dark complexion, dark
hair and eyes. It's all right, you see; no one will question your right
with these papers."

She handed him the envelope which she held with a convulsive grasp, as
if it were a costly treasure.

"And these papers?" he asked doubting yet.

"Belonged to the dead! They were given me for one who will not use them
now, for he died to-day; and I will be forgiven if I save the living by
their use."

Hartmut tore open the envelope, the wind nearly blew the papers from his
hand, so that it was with difficulty he could master their contents,
while the baroness continued:

"Joseph Tanner had a small office at Ostwalden. This morning he had an
unusually severe hemorrhage and died an hour after. Poor fellow, he had
only time to leave a message with me for his old mother. I shall send
her everything belonging to him, except these papers, which I, myself,
obtained for him, and these I have kept for you. We rob no one; they
would be of no use whatever to the mother. A severe judge might question
my right, but I take all responsibility. God and my fatherland will
forgive me."

Hartmut folded the papers carefully and hid them in his breast, then he
threw the wet locks back from his broad forehead, his father's forehead,
for that mark of the Falkenried blood was patent to the most careless
observer.

"You are right, Ada. I can never thank you enough for what you have done
to-day, but I will strive to deserve it!"

"I know that. God guard you from danger, and now good-bye."

"No, you cannot wish that for me!" said Hartmut sadly. "This battle of
life and death into which I go can ease my own conscience of a load, but
my father and Egon will never know, if I live, that I have fought for my
country, and the old stain will still be there. But if I fall, then you
can tell them that I fought under a strange name, and am at rest,
perhaps under foreign soil. They will at least have some respect for my
grave."

"You would fall?" asked Ada, with sad reproof in her voice. "Even if I
tell you that your death will be mine too?"

"Yours, Ada?" he cried excitedly, "and do you no longer turn in
abhorrenc