"The situation is impossible, gentlemen! Impossible--even for my son. Guilty as he is, he cannot be so false to the blood of his ancestors as to determine to exist at the mercy of even his best and most generous friends; to live under the sword of the doubtful reputation that must precede and follow him whichever way he turned; to endure the scorn that any man might make him feel as he pleased, without the power of defending himself. "And it is impossible--to me. Suppose to yourselves that I were the president of a court of honour which had to decide upon this case; forget for a moment that I am a father--and you would, you must answer me that it is impossible." "I cannot forget it!" cried Schönau wildly; "I cannot!" "You must," returned the General, "as the Colonel here has already done." The Colonel was in the most painful embarrassment. The General was undoubtedly right, and he would thus be released from a very difficult position; and yet! and yet! "I have already expressed my most decided wish to arrange the affair without letting matters proceed to extremities," said he, "I hope the General may yet persuade himself of the possibility of so doing, however difficult I allow such a solution may be. Meanwhile, Herr von Werben is on leave of absence. Bills of exchange have, if I remember rightly"--the Colonel attempted a smile--"three days' law. Let us make use of this delay granted by the law; three days count for a great deal under some circumstances in the life of a man. Shall we leave the General alone now, my dear Schönau?" The two officers went silently down the street, with their heads bent, and from time to time pressing on their caps more firmly, which the storm that raged through the streets threatened to blow away. At the corner of the cross street Schönau said: "I must take a carriage from here, Colonel." "You are going to him?" "Yes, sir." "It is a hopeless case, my dear Schönau." "I fear so." "You will bring me news!" "Certainly, sir." "It is eleven o'clock now; I shall be at home till two." The Colonel pressed the Captain's hand with a warmth very unusual for him, turned up the collar of his overcoat, and went on down the street. Schönau's cab drove quickly up the side street. The General had remained standing at the door, to which he had accompanied the others, and listened mechanically to their steps upon the stone floor of the hall, then under the window of his room, and passing away down the street. Now he could hear nothing more, excepting the storm which was raging without. They were gone, these men of the highest honour, the representatives of his class, gone after pronouncing sentence upon the dishonoured and unworthy member of that class. And that sentence was--death. Death by his own hand. And his father must announce it to him.