Greifenstein | Page 6

also stiffened perceptibly. There was a moment's pause.
Perhaps it was in the hope of dissipating that awkward feeling which
somehow or other always made itself apparent when the Lady of
Greifenstein was mentioned, that her husband pulled out his case and
offered Greif a cigar.
'I have brought you a pipe,' said the latter, and as the carriage came up
to where they were standing he snatched his bag off the back seat. 'It
will make you feel young again,' he laughed, as he took a paper parcel
from the receptacle. 'It is a "Korps" pipe, colours and tassels and all.'
Greifenstein, one of whose favourite hobbies was the advantage of
pipes in general, was as delighted as a boy with the little gift, and
instantly produced a huge silver tobacco box out of the depths of his
shooting coat, from which he began to fill the china bowl.
'Thank you, my boy,' he said as he drew the air through the unlighted
pipe to assure himself that there was no obstruction.
Then he took out an old-fashioned flint and steel, lighted a bit of tinder

with a practised hand and laid it upon the tobacco. He made a sign to
the coachman, who urged his sturdy Mecklenburg horses up the hill
and was soon out of sight. The two men walked slowly forwards and
smoked in silence for a few minutes.
'When is Hilda coming?' asked Greif at last, when he thought he had
allowed a decent interval to elapse before putting the question which
chiefly interested him.
'She will come to-morrow, with her mother,' replied Greifenstein, not
noticing, or pretending not to notice, the faint blush that rose in his
son's face.
'I suppose we must wait another year,' remarked Greif with a sigh. 'It
seems absurd that at my age I should not have finished my education.'
'You will be glad, when you are married, that you have your military
service behind you.'
'I do not know,' answered the young man absently.
'You do not know!' exclaimed his father in surprise. 'Would you like to
go and live with Hilda in a garrison town while you served your year as
a volunteer?'
'I was not thinking of that. I have thought lately that, after all, I had
better take active service. Would you object?'
Greifenstein was taken by surprise and would possibly have uttered a
loud exclamation if he had not long ago schooled himself to be
incapable of any such breach of gravity. But he did not answer the
question.
'Father,' began Greif again after a pause, 'is it true that you ever had a
brother?'
Greifenstein's tough face turned slowly grey.
'A half-brother,' he answered with an effort. 'My mother married again.'

Greif glanced sideways at his father and saw that he was oddly affected
by the inquiry. But the young man had his own reasons for wishing to
know the truth.
'Why have you never told me that I had an uncle?' he asked.
'He is no uncle of yours, my boy, nor brother of mine!' answered
Greifenstein bitterly.
'I fought about him the other day. That is all,' said Greif.
'He is not worth fighting for.'
'Then the story is true?'
'What story?' Greifenstein stopped short in his walk and fixed his sharp
eyes on his son's face. 'What story? What do you know?'
'A man told me that your brother had been discharged from the army
with infamy--_infam cassirt_--and condemned to imprisonment, for
betraying some arsenal or armoury into the hands of the rebels in 1848.
I told him--well--that he lied. What else could I say? I had never heard
of the scoundrel.'
'You were quite right,' answered Greifenstein, who was very pale. 'I
never meant that you should know, any more than your mother. That is
the reason why we live in the country all the year. But I thought it
would come--I feared that some one would tell you!'
'I do not think that any one will repeat the experiment,' observed Greif,
turning away and looking down at the torrent, which was visible
between the trees. 'And what has become of this Herr von Rieseneck, if
that was his name?'
'He is alive and well. Rich, for anything I know to the contrary. He
escaped from the fortress where he was confined and made his way to
South America. I had not seen him for some time before that
disgraceful affair. We had quarrelled about other matters, and he had

entered the Prussian service.' 'I wish you had told me about him before.'
'Why should I? Do you think it is a pleasant subject for conversation?
As his name was not mine, thank God, there was a chance that you
might never know nor hear of him.'
'I see why you do