Beneath this flaming sky the snow-covered world lay cold and white. The aurora was shining in the fulness of its splendor!
Falkenried was so lost in the glory of the sight that he did not hear the opening and closing of the door of the ante-room. Carefully the partly closed door of his own room was now opened, but the one entering did not bring himself into view, but remained motionless upon the threshold.
Colonel Falkenried still stood at the window half-averted, but the flickering light of the candles which burned upon the table lighted his face distinctly; the strong, deep lines of the features, and the gloomy, careworn brow beneath the white hair.
Hartmut shivered involuntarily; he had not anticipated such a deep and awful change. The man standing in his prime, looked aged, and who had brought this premature age upon him?
A few moments passed in this deep silence, then a voice vibrated through the room half-audible, beseeching, and full of a tenderness suppressed with difficulty--a single word pregnant with meaning.
Falkenried started as if a spirit voice had reached his ear. Slowly he turned as if really believing he heard a spirit-haunting voice.
Hartmut quickly approached a few steps, then stood still.
He stopped short, for now he met his father's eyes; those eyes which he had feared so much, and what they now expressed robbed him of the courage to speak further. He bowed his head in silence.
Every drop of blood seemed to have left the face of Colonel Falkenried. He had not known--he had no idea that his son was under the same roof with him; the meeting found him totally unprepared, but it did not tear from him one exclamation, nor sign of anger or weakness. Rigid and mute he stood there and looked upon him who had once been his all. At last he raised his hand and pointed to the door.
"Go, I say." The command now sounded threatening.
"No, I shall not go!" cried Hartmut passionately. "I know that reconciliation with you depends upon this hour. I have offended you--how deeply and seriously I feel only now--but I was a boy of seventeen, and it was my mother whom I followed. Think of that, father, and pardon me--grant pardon to your son."
"You are the son of the woman whose name you bear--not mine!" said the Colonel with cutting scorn. "A Falkenried has no son without honor."