her, and for her presence he was not prepared. But at the very moment
when he realized who it was, the ambassador's words sounded in his ears.
He understood only too well what the tone and words implied and the
blood rushed to his temples.

"Hartmut!" Frau Regine called again, looking uncertainly at her brother,
who still held her arm fast.

"We do not know him," he repeated in the same tone. "Must I repeat it to
you again, Regine?"

She understood his meaning now, and turned with a half-threatening,
half-pained glance from the son of her old-time friend, as she said
bitterly: "You are right. I was mistaken."

Hartmut drew himself to his full height, and an angry look flashed
across his face as he drew a step nearer.

"Herr von Wallmoden!"

"What is it?" answered the other in a sharp, but contemptuous tone.

"Your excellency has but forestalled me," said Hartmut, forcing himself
by mighty effort to speak quietly. "I came to request you not to know
me. We are strangers to one another."

Then he turned with a haughty, defiant air, and disappeared within the
little inn.

Wallmoden looked after him with knitted brow, and then turned to his