"Until the year 1848, our regiments had recruiting stations where soldiers were enlisted and received a good bounty. In a Gallician regiment which formed part of the garrison of the fortress--there were also Italian regiments in it--a very clever young Pole had been enlisted. He learned the drill, was a good horseman, and his captain wished that he would study German, in order that he might become an officer; but he did not care to do so, and said that he could not write. One day we learned that he had deserted. They found a letter from him, although he had said that he could not write. It was in choice French, thanked the captain for his kind treatment, and added that he had come and gone by the command of others, high in station.

For some days they spoke of the fact that the Russians were even more successful than we as spies. For this man had evidently joined us only in order to inform himself as to the disposition of the Gallicians. It did not strike me at first, but afterward I could not but notice the fact that they always talked to me about spies.

"A young Prince joined our regiment. He became an intimate a.s.sociate of mine, and seemed to take a special liking to me. My father seemed much pleased with this, but gave me less money than he had formerly done. I was obliged to borrow from the young Prince and to ask favors at his hands. Yes, the world is wise, if one only knew it at the right time. I found it out too late. Is it not ingenious, and does it not do all honor to the human intellect, to discover that it is well to incur an obligation in order to acquire more perfect confidence on the part of those to whom we owe a debt? Although the lynx out there is ever so cunning, it cannot do such work; that is reserved for the image of G.o.d.

"One day my father said to me--yes, my father--'Conrad, (that is my baptismal name), 'you are now employed at the officers' quarters; the adjutant of the post cannot be trusted; be careful that you get hold of something that involves him; but let it be in writing. That aroused my suspicions that something was wrong. One day, a fellow-officer said to me, 'There is a spy in our regiment,' and all the other comrades laughed. I challenged the one who had thus spoken to me, and--shot him.

"But I am antic.i.p.ating--I must first tell you of another matter. I always had a great desire to be a forester. I often begged my father to permit me to leave the army, but he would not consent. And I would have been so glad to marry and live quietly in the woods; for I had a child, a lovely, beautiful child.

"And then, on account of the duel, I was imprisoned in the citadel. No comrade visited me.

"When I left the prison, my child and the mother had vanished. She had received a letter, in my handwriting--my father knew how to imitate the writing of others--in which was contained a considerable sum, to enable her to emigrate--and she had left. A companion of hers in the ballet, who had been a suitor for her affection, and had, heretofore, been rejected, had accompanied her.

"My papers had been confiscated, and I feel quite sure that it was done at my father's instance, for he distrusted me, and wished to get me out of harm's way.

"Among them there was also a memento of my beloved; it was a little narrow red ribbon tied in a knot and torn off at both ends. She had given it to me in a happy moment, and I had fastened it on a sheet of paper and had written under it 'talisman.'

"All of my papers were returned to me, but not the ribbon. My father had sent it in the letter to my beloved, and had, moreover, written, in my name, 'By this sign I request you to obey the bearer of this in all that he may require of you.'

"My father said to me: 'She whom you call your wife has left by my orders.' Through a former friend of hers, I received a letter in which she asked me whether I had caused the child to be taken from her; because it had suddenly vanished about the time the vessel was leaving."

"What ails you? What alarms you?" suddenly exclaimed Rautenkron.

I controlled myself and begged him to go on with his story.

"I left my father and led an adventurous life. Pshaw! I have even been croupier at a gaming-table. And there I heard that my father was dead.

On the day before, I had seen him staking rouleaus of gold--he had not recognized me.

"By chance I made the acquaintance of Baron Arven, and through him I received the appointment of forester in his woods, after having, as a.s.sistant-forester, learned my profession from Hartriegel.

"I bear a strange name, and shall die with it. But, before I die, I shall put my living bones to use.

"I could not make up my mind, but now something has helped me to decide. The engineer whom you are employing down by the new mill which you are building is one of my victims. I recognized him at once, although he has changed greatly. I do not know whether he remembered me, but I almost believe that he did. He looked at me carelessly and then turned away. It is well that I have had a look at one of my victims. That destroyed the last traces of indolence and the desire to hide myself from the world. I must and will live. The French are coming. They have made all preparations to burn our woods. The little spectacled forest Junker--you know that I dislike him; he still acts, the proud and overbearing corps student, and, besides that, is happily married, has a fine hearty wife and boys like young wolves. I have always avoided him; but I met him to-day and he handed me the French newspaper, in which it is joyfully proclaimed that our woods will soon be in flames. When I read that, I fled. That was enough for me. I am a good shot. If they wish me to, I can single out my man among the enemy and bring him down at the first fire. The little forest Junker has promised to look after my duties as forester. He said that would be the same as helping in the war, as he could not leave home. Let him make a virtue of it if he chooses. My woods are in safe hands, and I can go."

He now requested me to use my influence with my son-in-law, the Colonel, and I faithfully promised that I would.

I asked him whether he had no memento of the mother and the child. He said that he had none.

"And has the child, perhaps, a keepsake from you?"

"I can remember none. But, yes! When I saw it for the last time, I brought it cakes in a satchel on which was embroidery representing a dog holding a bird between his teeth."

My hair stood on end.

"What was the name of your child?"

"Conradine."

"Then all agrees--Martella is your child."

And the man seized my arm as if he would break it, and gave a cry like a felled ox.

After a while, he regained his self-control. We hurried to the village.

On the way, he told me that he would now confess to me that he had had a letter from Ernst. He was in Algiers; had entered the army there and had become an officer. He had told me nothing about it, because he had thought it was of no use. Ernst had also given him messages for his betrothed: but he had always kept them to himself. "Spare me all reproaches," he concluded; "I am punished bitterly enough. Oh, if they had only been united! How shall I utter the word 'child,' and how can I listen to the word 'father'?"

When, after leaving the saw-mill, we began to ascend the hill, he called out in a hoa.r.s.e voice: "It was here, in this spot, that she stepped down from the wagon in the twilight. Here, by this very tree, I heard her voice. It was that of her mother--I could not believe it at the time. Here, by this very tree."

Rothfuss came towards us. "Have you seen her--is she with you?"

"Whom do you mean?"

"She is gone off with Lerz the baker, who has become a sutler. Oh, the d.a.m.ned hound!"

"Who?"

"Martella is gone!"

Rautenkron grasped a young tree by the roadside, and broke it in two; then he sank on his knees. We lifted him up.

"It is right thus. So it should be," he said. "Here, on this very spot--do you remember?--I warned you when your wife went to bring her home. Tell me, wise man, what was that? I heard something in her voice, and did not wish to believe it. Turenne," he said, turning to his dog, "you killed her dog. Be quiet; I told you to do it."

He followed us to the house, but did not utter a word on the way.

We went to her room. She had taken nothing with her but the embroidered satchel, which, before that, had always hung over the mirror; and also Ernst's prize cup. The clothes that she had inherited from my wife she had carefully arranged and placed to one side.

We asked Rothfuss how long it was since she had disappeared.

They had been hunting for her ever since the morning of the day before, but in vain. No sign of where she had gone could be found.

Rautenkron left the room and went out into the garden. He sat there for a long while, holding his rifle between his knees. I begged him to return to the house with me. He was looking on the ground, and did not raise his head. I asked him to give me his rifle. He looked up towards me, and, with a strange smile, said: "Don't be alarmed; I am not such a fool as to shoot myself."

I walked away. A little while afterward, I heard a shot, and hurried out again. Rautenkron sat there, holding his gun with both hands, but his beautiful brown spaniel lay dead at his feet.

When he saw me, he exclaimed:

"Now I am quite alone. I had intended to give Turenne to you, but it is better thus. The beast might have been stupid enough to long for me."

The sound of drums was heard from over the hills. The Colonel arrived with his regiment, and all hurried out to meet him.

And the Englishman stood at the brook, angling.

BOOK FIFTH.