There was something in this dull submission that had a more powerful effect than could have been produced by the most passionate asseverations. Michael was impressed by it. He knew that Raoul possessed sufficient physical courage to defend to the death what he did not choose to resign, had it been in his possession; and, stepping up close to him, he laid his hand upon his arm. "Count Raoul Steinrück, in the name of the man from whom we both are sprung I demand of you the truth. The papers upon which the safety of our army depends are not in your possession?" "No!" said Raoul, firmly; and once more his down cast eyes were lifted to meet his questioner's gaze. "And Clermont has them?" "Doubtless they are in his hands." "Then I am losing time here; he must be pursued and overtaken. The train that brought me here leaves in half an hour. I must go to the station." He turned to go, but the young Count detained him. "Take me with you! Give me a place in the military train. Our paths are the same----" "No, they are not!" Michael interrupted him, coldly. "Stay behind, Count Steinrück. I may perhaps be compelled to demand the papers of Herr von Clermont pistol in hand, and at the decisive moment you might possibly remember again that he is your 'nearest friend,' and the brother of the woman whom you 'love to madness.'" "Rodenberg, I give you my word of honour----" "_Your word of honour?_" The emphasis that Michael gave to these words was so crushing that Raoul stood mute, as the captain went on in the same pitiless tone,-- "If you have not been guilty of the worst of crimes you have permitted it, and even shielded it from discovery. Either act is high treason; the accomplice is as bad as the thief." He went without a backward glance. As he passed through the hall a door opened, and Valentin appeared, stood for a moment mute with astonishment, and then advanced hastily. "Michael! Is this you?" "Your reverence!" was the rejoinder, in the same tone of astonishment. "You here?" "That I ask you. You appointed the day after tomorrow, and if Hertha had not in her anxiety hastened her journey----" "Hertha here? With you? Where is she?" Michael eagerly interrupted him; and when the priest pointed to the door in the upper story opening upon the staircase, the young officer heard no more, but rushed up the steps, tore open the door, and in another instant clasped Hertha in his arms. But this interview had to be as brief as it was passionately tender. Rodenberg clasped his betrothed to his heart, but his first word to her was one of farewell. "I cannot stay. I only wanted to see you, to snatch one moment of bliss. I must go." "Go?" Hertha repeated, clinging to him, half dazed with sudden joy and dread. "Now, in this first moment of reunion? You cannot." "I must," he insisted. "Perhaps we may see each other again the day after to-morrow." "Only perhaps! And if we do not? Can you not spare me a moment for farewell?"