The colonel made out a regular plan of campaign. Among his relations there had been a cousin, Otto von Krewesmühlen, the owner of a large property in Franconia. The poor wretch had passed more of his lifetime in Meran and Cannes than on his own estate; but he had married in spite of that for the sake of the entail, and unfortunately had married an acquaintance in the Riviera who also was not on the shores of the Mediterranean solely for pleasure. Two boys had been born to them, but Otto von Krewesmühlen had not long survived their birth. The eldest child had followed the father not only in the entail but also in the manner of his death, and the widow and the second son were only like two feeble flames which the wind of life permits out of charity still to flicker for a while. This cousin must serve to point the moral for his poor Mariechen, and help her to forget her young love in as painless a manner as possible. It happened fortunately that Marie kept up a correspondence with her Franconian relations. "I had something to ask you, Mariechen," began Falkenhein at supper. "Oh yes, of course; have you had any more news from your Aunt Krewesmühlen?" "No, father," answered the girl, "not since the last letter, which you remember." "I do not recollect quite well. Where was she then?" "At Cannes, I think. Or it might have been San Remo." "They have gone back again then?" "Yes, unfortunately. And my aunt wrote in perfect despair." The desired point had been reached; but his carefully-thought-out plan now seemed to the colonel inexpressibly clumsy and cruel. Nevertheless, he could not let the opportunity go by. "I am really very much grieved," he said. His voice sounded to himself hollow and flat, like an ill-tuned instrument. But he went on speaking painfully and with difficulty, whilst his fingers kept clutching his collar. "As a matter of fact, Otto von Krewesmühlen committed a crime in marrying at all. He is responsible for an enormous amount of trouble and sorrow. He would have done a better and a nobler thing if he had renounced the idea of happiness in marriage. We cannot but ask ourselves: Was not this marriage simply a source of misery?" He stopped. Marie looked at him thoughtfully. Everything was very still in the lofty dining room. The colonel felt as if his words must re-echo like a trumpet-call from the walls, and he lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "Of course it requires strength and self-control to give everything up when one is in love. But an honourable man should have both; he is equally to be pitied and respected. And imagine, Mariechen, dear Mariechen--one of our best friends--Senior-lieutenant Reimers--that's how it is with him--just as with poor Otto Krewesmühlen; but he--will renounce his happiness. He is a brave man." Falkenhein breathed more freely. Thank God! the mischief was out.