The Finanzrath sprang up in a rage, but his brother, without waiting for a reply, left the room. "Insulting!" Werner exclaimed, quite beside himself.
"Not one word against Arno!" the old Freiherr said, sternly. "Every word that he uttered found its echo in my soul, and I thank God that there is at least one Hohenwald who retains within him a sense of right and honour and a genuine love of his country. Not a word, Werner! I will hear no more of your disgraceful schemes; not now, at all events. I must be more myself than I am now when I speak with you again. Now leave me; I wish to be alone."
Werner hesitated for a moment, but judged it wisest to make no attempt at present to recover the ground he had lost. "I obey your commands, sir," he said; "I hope calm reflection will induce you to change your mind, and that it will also have its effect upon Arno."
After the angry dispute with his brother, Arno walked out into the garden, and, feeling the need of quiet to collect himself, took his seat upon a rustic bench nearly hidden in a clump of shrubbery. It was a favourite retreat of his, and from its seclusion he could overlook almost the entire garden. Here, then, he sat down, and resigned himself to thought. So buried was he in reflection that, although he was aware that Fräulein Müller and Celia came from the castle to take their morning walk, and passed quite near him, he did not heed them: his mind was filled with Werner's dark schemes.
Thus he remained for he could not tell how long, when he was suddenly roused from his reverie by the sound of the voice that never reached his ear without thrilling him to the heart. He looked up. Walking along a leafy side-path came Werner and Fräulein Müller; she was speaking, and looking, not at Werner, but upon the ground. Arno thought he perceived that her voice trembled, although he could not distinguish what she was saying.
Werner's reply was made in so low a tone that not a sound reached Arno's ear; he could only perceive its effect upon Fräulein Müller, and it aroused within him a feeling of indignation. There was pain that was almost agony expressed in Anna's face as she listened eagerly to her companion's whispered words. Werner spoke long and persistently, bending above Fräulein Müller the while, and devouring with passionate admiration the lovely downcast face. As the pair passed his retreat Arno caught two words from his brother's lips, "Count Repuin," and marked how colourless was Anna's cheek, down which a tear was trickling from beneath the drooping eyelid.