"The obedient, humble servant." The General did not interrupt his son for some minutes, but as Ottomar still remained motionless, staring in front of him, his teeth pressing hard on his white lip, he stopped in his walk at the far end of the room, and asked: "Have you any idea who wrote that letter?" "No." "Have you the slightest suspicion that the lady whom it concerns----" "Good heavens!" exclaimed Ottomar impetuously. "I beg your pardon, but I am under the painful necessity of asking questions, as you do not appear disposed to give me the explanations which I expected." "What am I to explain!" asked Ottomar half defiantly; "the thing is true." "Short and conclusive," answered the General, "but not quite clear. At least, some points still require clearing up. Have you anything to reproach this lady with--I may call her so?" "I must beg you to do so." "Well, then, have you anything in the least to reproach this lady with, which, setting aside outward circumstances of which we will speak later, could prevent you from bringing her into Elsa's company? On your honour!" "On my honour, nothing!" "Do you know anything of her family, again setting aside outward circumstances, even the smallest fact, which would and ought to hinder any other officer who was not in your peculiar position from forming a connection with her family! On your honour!" Ottomar hesitated a moment; he knew absolutely nothing dishonourable of Philip; he only had the inborn instinct of a gentleman against a man who, in his eyes, is not a gentleman; but he would have considered it cowardly to shelter himself behind this vague feeling. "No!" said he moodily. "You have acquainted the lady with your circumstances?" "In a general way, yes." "Amongst other things, that you are disinherited if you marry a woman who is not of noble birth?" "No." "That was somewhat imprudent; however, I can understand it. But in a general way you say that she is aware of the difficulties which, under the most favourable circumstances, must stand in the way of a union between you and her?" "Yes." "Have you ever let her perceive that you have neither the will nor the power to remove these difficulties?" "No." "Rather have allowed her to believe, have probably assured her that you can and will set aside these obstacles?" "Yes." "Then you will marry her." Ottomar started like a horse touched by the spur. He had felt that this must and would be the end; and yet, as the words were spoken, his pride chafed against the pressure put upon his heart even by his own father. And in the background lurked again ghost-like the horrid sensation that he had had in the park; that he was weaker than she who so confidingly nestled in his arms. Was he to be always the weaker, always to follow, whether he would or no, always to have his path traced out for him by others? "Never!" burst from him.