Fatigued and agitated, after Werner's departure the old Freiherr lay wearily back in his rolling-chair, his thoughts busy with Anna, who had so often sung him the very song that Celia was now beginning to play on the piano. Arno sat beside him silent and sad, listening to his sister's charming rendering of the well-known melody. "It is past; and all is so different from what I had hoped," the Freiherr said, after a long pause, taking his son's hand and pressing it. "She has left us, and all my hopes are crushed." "What were your hopes, father?" "It is useless to speak of them." Another pause ensued; the old Baron sadly gazing at his son, who was again lost in thought. Then he spoke once more, "Tell me frankly, Arno, am I wrong in thinking that our Anna had grown very dear to you?" At this unexpected question Arno hastily started from his seat, and paced the apartment to and fro, then paused and confronted his father. "Why ask such a question?" he said, reproachfully. "What is to you, father, or to any one, whether I loved or hated her? Our Anna, do you call her? Have you forgotten that she is the wife of that wretch whom Werner has chosen for his friend? She is Frau von Sorr! Do you know, father, that at times I think the thought will drive me mad!" "I thought so!" the old Baron rejoined, taking his son's hand as he stood before him. "It has been so great a pleasure to me to watch you during these last few weeks. My Arno will be happy after all, I thought. I dreamed of her as the lovely mistress of Hohenwald, and now--now it is all over." Arno did not reply. Again he paced the room restlessly to and fro, never heeding the unusual bustle that had arisen in the court-yard. The Freiherr too was only aroused from his brooding reverie by the sound of footsteps in the hall and the sudden flinging wide of the doors to admit Count Schlichting, followed by the Geheimrath Steuber, while almost at the same moment steps resounded upon the terrace, and two dragoons with drawn sabres stationed themselves at the glass door leading to the garden. At this sight the old Baron's sadness was converted into violent anger. "Thunder and lightning, Franz! How dare you introduce visitors unannounced!" he exclaimed, furiously, to the old servant, who stood in the doorway quite uncertain which to fear more, his master or the terrible man in spectacles. "Don't scold your servant, old friend," said Count Schlichting, approaching the Freiherr's rolling-chair and taking his reluctant hand. "He conducted myself and this gentleman hither only upon compulsion. And we do not intrude voluntarily upon your seclusion, but in obedience to an august command, which, I am sure, will be respected by the Freiherr von Hohenwald."