No! not that; only confirm what he must have already said to himself; only say: "Your father agrees to what you have already decided upon, and may God have mercy upon your soul!" He pressed his hands together, and heavy cold drops of sweat stood on his deeply-furrowed brow. "Must it be? oh God, my God, have mercy upon me! must it be?" But no word of comfort or hope came to him. All was dumb within him, in his burning head, in his panting breast, and through that dumb silence only the fearful words: "It must be!" When August entered the room at the sound of the bell, the General was sitting, turned away from him, at his writing-table, leaning his head upon his hand. On the round table behind him, on which he used always to put his finished papers, stood a box, and on the box lay a letter. August turned cold all over; it was the box in which his master kept the two beautiful old pistols which he had inherited from his father, and on which he set such great store. "My son is obliged to undertake a long journey," said the General; "and he will require my pistols. The key is in the letter. You will go to him at once, and take him the box and the letter; there is no further message, the letter contains everything. Afterwards I shall go away also; when you come back you will put up my things for a few days' absence." "Very well, General," said August, merely to say something, and so perhaps to get free of the horror which oppressed him. With mechanical obedience he had carefully taken up the letter and box, and stopped at the door. "Shall I say anything kind from you to the Lieutenant, sir?" There was a few moments' pause before the answer came. He mustered all his courage: "Tell him, I hope to God to be with him soon again." The faithful servant breathed again. He was satisfied now; whatever had happened between the General and the Lieutenant must be something very bad, much worse than it had ever been before, but if the General hoped to meet the Lieutenant again, and that very soon too, there was nothing to break one's heart over, and it would soon be all right, as the Captain had said indeed. But when August had left the room, the General let his head fall upon his clasped hands, and so sat for a long time, while his whole frame was shaken at times as if with ague, or at others a dull groan was forced from his oppressed breast, as he prayed for his son's soul, and took leave of that son of whom he had been so proud, and who might no longer live now with the shame that he had brought upon himself; the son whom he had so dearly loved, and whom he still loved, oh! how dearly! At last he rose, an old, broken-down man, with but one thing more for him to do on earth. For that, he knew that his strength would suffice.