of honour, even apart from the consideration that if Rieseneck came
back he would ultimately be obliged to confide in her. But, on the
other hand, there was a possibility that Rieseneck might not come back,
after all, and in that case, if he had told her everything, he would
have submitted himself to a painful humiliation without necessity. He
resolved to keep his own counsel and at the same time to ask his wife
no questions.

Rieseneck was in South America, but Greifenstein had no reason for
supposing that the person whose possible return so greatly disturbed
Clara had betaken himself to so distant a country. He might be in
Italy, in France, in England, anywhere within eight and forty hours'
journey. He might therefore arrive at any moment after the
proclamation.

But no stranger came, though the days became weeks, and the weeks
months, until it was almost time for Greif to go back to Schwarzburg.
Greifenstein began to think that the problematical personage was dead,
though Clara evidently did not share his opinion, for she never
regained her former manner. Under any other circumstances Greifenstein
would have enjoyed the change, the absence of irrelevant interruption,
the rest from her unnatural laughter, the gravity of her tired face. He
was far from being satisfied, however, and his earnest mind brooded
constantly over the possibilities of the unknown future. His situation
was the harder to bear because he could not explain it to his son, the
only human being for whom he felt a strong natural sympathy. It would
have seemed like teaching the boy to suspect his mother of some evil.

Greif secretly wondered what was happening in his home. The atmosphere
was unbearably oppressive, and if he had not been able to spend most of