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