Greifenstein | Page 7

not wish me to enter the army.'
'Yes,' answered Greifenstein laconically, and he once more walked
forward.
For some time neither spoke. Greifenstein's profound hatred of his
dishonoured brother was too deeply stirred to allow of his continuing
the conversation, and in a different way the younger man was quite as
much affected as his father. When the student with whom he had fought
had cast in his teeth the evil deeds of Kuno von Rieseneck, he had
unhesitatingly denied the story, thinking it a merely gratuitous insult
invented on the spur of the moment. No one present during the
altercation had thought fit to confirm the tale, and Greif had wreaked
his vengeance upon his enemy in the most approved fashion, in the
presence of the assembled 'Korps.' But the words had taken effect and
he had determined to learn from his father's lips whether they had any
foundation in fact. Being satisfied of the truth of the story, however, his
mood changed. No one who has not studied the character of the
German gentleman--the old-fashioned Edelmann--will readily
understand how directly he feels himself injured by the disgrace of a
relative even very distantly removed. He has often little enough in the
world but his name and his pride of caste, but as compared with the
former he holds his life as of no value whatsoever, and where the latter
is concerned he will suffer much rather than offend the exclusiveness of
his class by derogating from the most insignificant of its prejudices. He
is not afraid of poverty. No one can maintain the position of a
gentleman with more exiguous resources than often fall to his share.
Rather than leave the smallest debt of honour unpaid, he will
unhesitatingly take his own life. That a man should suffer himself to
live after doing such a deed as had broken Kuno von Rieseneck's career
seems to him a crime against humanity. He is often called avaricious,
because, like Frau von Sigmundskron, he is often very, very poor; but

he has never been called a coward, nor a traitor, by any man, or class of
men, who knew him. All gentlemen throughout the world are brothers,
it is true, for to be a gentleman is to be brave, honest, courteous, and
nothing more. But the gentlemen of different nations are like brothers
brought up in different schools. An Englishman who should demand
satisfaction by arms, of another Englishman, for a hasty word spoken in
jest, would be considered a lunatic in the clubs, and if he carried his
warlike intentions into effect with the consent of his adversary, and
killed his man, the law would hang him without mercy as a common
murderer. On the other hand, a German who should refuse a duel, or
not demand one if insulted, would be dismissed from the army and
made an outcast from society. And these things do not depend upon
civilisation, since modern Germany is probably more civilised than
modern England. They depend upon national character.
When Greif heard of his uncle's existence, and, at the same time, of his
disgrace, it seemed to him that a cloud had descended upon his own
brilliant future. He had long nursed in secret his desire for a military
life, and had often wondered at his father's unwillingness to discuss the
matter. He now suddenly understood the true state of the case and
realised, by the measure of his disappointment, the magnitude to which
his hopes had grown. But there was something more than this in the
despondency which seized upon him so quickly and would not be
thrown off.
'Does Hilda know this?' he asked, at length giving expression to his
thoughts.
Greifenstein did not answer at once.
'I do not think her mother would have told her,' he said after a time.
'But her mother knows.'
'And my mother does not?'
'No, nor never shall, if I can help it.'
If the two men spoke little on their homeward walk it was not for lack

of sympathy between them. On the contrary, if anything could
strengthen the strong bond that united them, it was the knowledge that
they had a secret in common which they must keep together.

CHAPTER II
To suppose that Hilda, at eighteen years of age, was like the majority of
young girls as old as she, would be to imagine that human character is
not influenced by its surroundings. She was neither a village Gretchen,
such as Faust loved and ruined, nor was she the omniscient damsel of
modern society. During the greater part of her existence she had lived
without any companions but her mother and the faithful Berbel. But she
had grown up in a wild forest country, in a huge dismantled stronghold,
of which the windows